#over the years THIS is the one they really fucking nailed and i am incredibly grateful

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

#happy world bipolar day to all my bp babies #(more thoughts at the end of the tags) #shameless #shamelessnet #shamelessedit #ian gallagher #cameron monaghan #*macygifs #bipolar disorder #hello pals how are we doin #i made this gif set in july of 2023 and never posted it because 1) i was terrified to share it and potentially see Bad Takes in the tags #and 2) because my hyperfixation was waning. and while both of those things are still mostly true (the fixation comes and goes) #i feel like it's really important to share as ian's bipolar storyline was not only so vital to his character it was a bit of representation #that isn't often given to the disorder and those (like myself) who live with it every single day #world bipolar day is a day where we can both celebrate ourselves and our resilience and also raise awareness of the reality of the disorder #which is both terrifying and beautiful at its core. this disease is not a death sentence or a sentence to an unfulfilled and miserable life #while there are challenges galore when it comes to balancing life with this disorder it IS possible to live a full and productive life #and i think it's really important to have representation of that in media - and while shameless dropped the ball on a LOT of storylines #over the years THIS is the one they really fucking nailed and i am incredibly grateful #i first started watching shameless while in the midst of a major depressive episode and i was later (finally) diagnosed during an extended #hypo/manic episode - this show and ian's storyline got me through so much and made me feel so seen and validated in my struggles #world bipolar day is also vincent van gogh's birthday (happy birthday buddy) who was posthumously diagnosed with bipolar disorder #and who experienced both depressive and hypo/manic episodes during his lifetime (and was regularly institutionalized) #it takes a lot of help and support to keep us going. it takes the support of our family and friends and *most* of all #it takes patience and kindness and understanding - which is so so so easy to give if you are willing to love and listen #so please. be willing. listen to our stories. be patient with us. show us love without conditions. support us in any way you can. #we are worth it #i promise #anyway. that's really all i wanted to say. happy world bipolar day to those who celebrate (me) and may all of us living with this disorder #go on to live happy fulfilling beautiful magical lives

[macsimagines]

I cannot thank you enough for now incredibly you bring my silly little ideas to life~

May I request for Yan! Shin, Izana, & Ran on how they are as a husband to their darling and how they are as fathers? (like them after they’ve finally achieved their Yandere dreams of marrying their darling and having kids with them and everything ) ʚ♡ɞ

TW: YANDERE CONTENT, MINORS DNI, BABY TRAPPING, MANIPULATION, COERCION

Yandere!Shinichiro Sano

Is so happy that you've made him a husband and father. It wasn't easy trying to convince you to go out with him, but eventually he called in enough favors and 'saved' you enough times that you relented and dated him for a short period.

Short because after that he tried very hard to get you to marry him and when it was obvious you weren't going to relent he eventually started to just poke holes in condoms and simply waited for the great news.

"Oh? You're pregnant? Well shucks, looks like I gotta take responsibility. When are you moving in?"

Ya he's not hiding the fact that he's all too pleased to put a ring on you and have a baby in you. But he does his best to provide and make you happy.

He comes home with flowers all the time, just cause, and sometimes he'll bring your son with him to the shop. "You need a break baby, I can take over today."

Shinichiro loves having JR. around. He of course loves his son, but it does help he's the perfect combination of you and Shinichiro.

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

He had to force you to marry him. You had tried to leave him and he wasn't going to let you live any kind of life without him. Those first few years were less than marital bliss.

The fighting, the screaming, the crying. It was honestly hell. Izana almost let himself think you weren't worth the trouble but he was kidding himself if he thought he could live a life without you.

That all changed when he found out you were pregnant. Now it was real, now he couldn't afford to fuck up.

"Y/N, I know you hate me, I can accept that, but please for our babies sake, lets make this work."

Izana is like a changed man, he's kinder and even gentle. He can tell you're still resentful and bitter, but he'll accept that. He just wants his child to feel loved and know he did all he could to make that happen.

You finally go into labor early, Izana doesn't know why or what he did wrong but this was obviously his fault. He was going to loose you both. You really were going to leave him and take the one thing he wanted most in the world with you.

But you pull through. You and his precious and perfect daughter. She's puny in his hands, even for a newborn, just barely bigger than his own palms, but she's perfect. And he'll never let her go.

"Hey, princess. You don't know how happy I am to finally meet you."

Yandere!Ran Haitani

Made you his wife after he found out you had his Twins. One boy and one girl. His brother was the one that had to break the news to him about it 4 years after he had told you to get lost.

"Hey bro, remember that trick that said you knocked her up?" "That bitch? Like I'd ever forget to wear a condom." "...You might wanna have a look at her insta."

Well shit. Obviously the rubber ripped because he was staring at his little clones on your feed. It was very apparent he was the father only a fool would deny it.

"You ain't my dad!" Your son hisses at him "Ya! You ain't!" Your daughter will parrot back. Clearly introducing himself as their father while they were beatingtheshitoutof playing with other kids wasn't the best idea.

"Our hair is pretty an' black!" "Ya! Yours is purple and ugly!"

Ran might not like how the kids are giving him shit, but he certainly does love the idea of another infamous pair of Haitani siblings running amok in Roppongi.

He also doesn't like the fact that you try to fight him tooth and nail for him to not bother your family. "Our family baby, C'mon. Let me take responsibility."

You have no choice but to relent to his threats of custody and courts, knowing damn well you don't have the connection he does.

And he doesn't love the fact that you're a huge bitch to him or the fact that his twins seem to live and breath violence more than he and his bother did back in his youth. But he must admit he thinks it's way more hot how cold and unforgiving you are compared to your old self. You keep him entertained at least.

"Guess who just had to bail our little ankle biters outta jail~ Why not thank your husband for a job well done."

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere izana #yandere izana kurokawa smut #yandere ran haitani

[pippin-katz]

Alright, I have mostly restrained myself, but I cannot stay quiet any longer. There is a question that has been eating at me...

Whose fucking idea was it to have Henry (Nicholas) constantly grabbing Alex's (Taylor's) hair?!

Note: I'm adding this in after finishing writing this because this was supposed to be a relatively short post, and then it spiraled out of control, so if you want to listen to me gradually lose my sanity over this question, feel free to keep reading, cause it is admittedly funny lmfao

Another Note: This is me being overly sarcastic and hyper cause it’s funny for me to think about that situation. This is supposed to be a funny post. I said that at the end, but I’m adding it here too.

Listen, remember what they said about the intimate scenes: they were planned down to every detail. Remember what Nicholas said about having conversations with Taylor, Matthew, and Robbie about boundaries, what was okay, and not okay. Remember that they have A LINE IN THE FILM ABOUT HENRY GRABBING HIS HAIR (iconic).

Do you see it? Do you see where this is going?

The hair pulling/grabbing is not random. It doesn't happen in just the New Year's kiss to set up a funny line later.

It happens all the time.

Even in soft moments, Henry has a hand in his hair.

The hair grabbing gets its own shot in their love-making scene.

Consistent small actions (twisting a ring, biting nails, drumming with fingers, etc.) are character habits. They're things that they do all the time, subconsciously or for a decisive reason, usually if you know that action causes a specific response that you want for any reason.

There's a coworker that drives you crazy, so you purposefully hum really loudly whenever they're in the room to piss them off. Your friend has a sensitivity to the color red, so on days you know you're going to see them, you avoid wearing it. Your partner has muscle cramps, so you massage their shoulders whenever you're standing behind them.

These habits usually start as conscious decisions, then gradually become subconscious, hence the term "habit". You've been doing something for so long or for frequently enough that you do it while on "autopilot".

I think it's pretty obvious why this action happens. It's because A: Henry likes feeling of his hair, and/or B: Alex likes when someone touches his hair. Note: This could be in any context, not just sexual; running fingers through it, washing it, styling it, etc.

Either you figured out what I am going to say, and you're wondering why I'm blabbering on so much, or you're just confused about where I'm going with this at all, so here's where it all clicks together.

When you have a character, habits are something you give them to give them more personality, more insight into their mentality through subtle things they do. It's something the director/writer/actor chooses to give to the character.

BUT - nothing in the intimacy scenes happen without being discussed and agreed upon.

This isn't like Nicholas fidgeting with the signet ring to show Henry's nerves. This isn't like Taylor frequently making little hand gestures (peace signs, finger guns, tapping the side of his glass, etc.) because Alex has undiagnosed ADHD and that's one way to physically imply it.

They can do those things without being told or given "permission" because it's their portrayal of the character, it doesn't effect anyone else, and small details like that are typically up to the actors, unless the director is incredibly strict.

BUT - AGAIN WITH FEELING - NOTHING IN THE INTIMACY SCENES HAPPEN WITHOUT BEING DISCUSSED AND AGREED UPON.

That means that someone, one of the four of them, brought up grabbing his hair as a suggestion, and further more, Taylor (and Nick, but obviously Taylor's consent is more important in this specific case) was fine with it.

Think about it. Think about them sitting around a table discussing the kinds of stuff that Matthew and Robbie would want to see, and what Nick and Taylor would be okay with. Think about the fact that one of them was sitting there, and looked at the other three, and said: "What if Henry grabs Alex's hair a lot?"

And then the four of them had to sit there, and talk, in depth, about what that would mean.

*inhale*

Who... the fuck... said it?

WHO SAID IT?!

Did Matthew and Robbie present it as part of the initial planning?? Or did one of them look Taylor and Nick in the eye and say it?? Did Nick throw it out there as something he thought Henry would do?? Was it Taylor??? Since it's his hair???

Cause it's not just like, running Nick running his fingers through it, combing it during some tender moment, like when Alex talks about his father being an immigrant.

HE FUCKING GRABS IT.

What the fuck were these conversations like?! I cannot think of a single way to have that conversation where someone wouldn't have to say something that would make me make me go UHHH-

What? So - Matthew's like "how do you guys feel about touching each other's hair?" -and they're like "what, you mean like running our fingers through it?" -and he's like "nah yanking it while you're making out"

Like... what do you say to that?! - "oh which one of us would do it to the other?" -and what, did Taylor fucking volunteer?? Just like - "he can pull my hair, it's chill" - WTF?!

Or did he suggest it in the first place, like they were discussing things that would that could be part of Alex and Henry's dynamic and he's just like - "he could pull my hair?" -and the other three just stared at him for a second, because wtf that's a intensely intimate action to suggest?!

Hair touching in general is really intimate, in like, every context, at least I think to most people, and definitely to me. Most people wouldn't just let someone, even someone they were friends with, start playing with their hair or touching their head. I wouldn't even let my best friend randomly touch my head; I would instinctually try to bite their hand off (not a joke). Maybe I'm a slight bit more touch-repulsed than most, but I feel like it's safe to say that the majority of people don't want their hair and head being touched, grabbed, or played with unless they say so.

And again, they do it CONSISTENTLY. It's not a one and done scene. It is an actual dynamic between Alex and Henry they chose to establish.

SO I ASK AGAIN: WHOSE IDEA WAS IT?!

I'm looking at you four, Matthew, Robbie, Taylor, and Nicholas. I know it was one of you cheeky bastards that suggested it. One of you brought it up, and the rest of you were like "sure".

I will be forever haunted by this mystery, as I doubt I will ever get an answer.

Note: Please don't take this super seriously. I'm not trying to imply anything; I'm literally just joking around cause the concept of having that conversation boggles my mind lol

#lol you thought my next essay would be another one shot analysis #but autistic and have adhd #so you have to wait lmfao #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb thoughts #alex claremont diaz #taylor zakhar perez #henry hanover stuart fox #nicholas galitzine #matthew lopez #robbie taylor hunt #firstprince

[its-time-to-write]

hi there! (ok FIRST AND FOREMOST i need to tell you that i am obsessed with your writing. you are by far my favorite jamie tartt writer, you characterize him perfectly and nail his speech mannerisms! not an easy feat! so thank u for writing what you do and for sharing it with us!!!! <333333 ok now that i've gotten that off my chest) if you're taking requests right now i'd love to see your take on a (slowburn?) enemies to lovers fic with jamie!!

I don’t know why I take simple little prompts and turn them into angsty monstrosities. This one makes up for the lack of plot in my other fics, and I’d like to apologize in advance😬

Oh also I am the queen of commas, in case you didn’t know 😇😇

flipped the script

It cannot be considered murder if you’re provoked. It would be considered doing the world a favor. 

And by god, you are going to fucking murder Jamie Tartt.

He does absolutely fucking nothing but make your life fucking miserable and you’re fucking losing it.

The only thing you’d agree on is when it started. It was 4am and he was yelling at someone called Roy and you had to be awake in two hours for a fucking conference, and you’d only just fallen asleep at 1am.

So you marched out of your house to the sidewalk where your prick neighbor was arguing with his prick coach and told him to shut the fuck up or I’m calling the police.

He opened his mouth to retort, changed his mind, then made a snide comment about your choice of outfit while you glared at him. His prick coach had the decency to apologize and smack Jamie on the head, so you said, “You’re fine, Roy, I’ll see you at work next week,” and Roy said, “Ah shit, you have that fucking conference, yeah?” and you said yeah then flipped off Jamie as you walked away.

You really hadn’t had many interactions with Jamie before, but you knew him before you started your job as an administrative assistant for AFC Richmond since you were, after all, living right next to each other.

Your last job had paid incredibly well; you were basically the go-to girl for your last company for two and half years. You compiled all relevant information from the day and presented to your boss so he would be caught up on the company’s inner workings. You were observant when it came to valuable (or toxic) employees, and had gained a reputation for being an invaluable asset.

But your old boss was retiring and you were ready for something new, so you began looking around. You found a job at AFC Richmond, assisting a Mr. Higgins and just generally making sure his job ran smoothly so the club could run smoothly. 

It was mostly paperwork, but you enjoyed it. You collected data from all different departments and then ran it by Higgins and Ms. Welton. You weren’t above coffee runs; it was nice to get out sometimes and Ms. Welton would put your coffee on her bill. You got to take your lunch breaks with them and talk and laugh, and be appreciated, which is something you didn’t often get.

The nature of your job demands a certain level of… professionalism, shall we say, which can be misconstrued as coldness. You’re not. You’re just young and trying to be taken seriously, which is why it’s nice to be known both in a personal and professional capacity by Higgins and Ms. Welton. Higgins has even invited you over for family dinner and you’d invited his family over to yours. His boys had absolutely lost their minds at the amount of nerf guns you had stashed in each room, courtesy of your brother who often liked to drop by unannounced when he knew you were home and get you in the back of the head. Sometimes you regretted giving him a key, but not enough to take it back.

All that to say, it was a relatively seamless transition to AFC Richmond. You and Jamie would exchange a neighborly nod if you saw each other, but that was absolutely it. 

—

The next incident is, uh, kind of your fault.

Remember the brother-and-nerf-guns thing?

Yeah.

Your brother had sneaked over on a Sunday (parked around the corner so his car wouldn’t be seen on your security cameras) and you were chasing each other around the house. Your sister-in-law had warned you he was coming over (he asked her to drive him), so you were prepared and hiding in the bushes. He was nonchalantly walking on the sidewalk, hands in his hoodie, when you popped out and got him right in the chest then booked it into your house, which led to a solid fifteen minutes of running and yelling, with the occasional, “Ow, you jerk!” that siblings are always saying but never really mean.

The incident occurs when you’re once again in your front yard running from your brother. You look back to assess how far away he is when smack, you run into someone and feel their beverage go flying.

It’s Jamie, and his bright pink drink is now all over his clean white hoodie.

You both stop and glare at each other. 

You had stopped feigning civility after the 4am thing, so the glare is standard procedure.

Jamie says, “What the fuck?” as your brother comes careening to an abrupt halt.

You’re still glaring. “Why are asking me ‘what the fuck?’ You’re the one walking around here with that fucking awful drink that’s probably going to kill your internal organs. I mean seriously, it cannot be safe to consume something that bright.”

“Says the girl who’s addicted to diet soda.”

“Says the girl who’s fucking pissed that her sidewalk is stained fucking bright pink. How the fuck am I supposed to clean this?”

Jamie’s face is red now, and yours is too.

“A), it’s a fucking public sidewalk and b), what about my fucking sweatshirt? This cost more than your shitty car!” he shoots back, and that’s the moment a line is crossed.

“We live in the same goddamn neighborhood,” you hiss, “so shut the fuck up with your stupid elitist footballer bullshit.”

“Oi, at least I’m not a fucking stuck-up, self-righteous big-shot with no friends!”

You’re not sure what would have happened next because your brother grabs you by the arm and hauls you back inside, waving apologetically to Jamie. All the fight goes out of you as soon as the door shuts.

“What the ever-loving hell was that?” he asks. He never did like using the word “fuck.”

—

What the ever-loving hell was that? Well, it’s actually quite simple. In the seven months you’ve been at Richmond, you haven’t really made any friends.

Yes, you have Ms. Welton and Higgins, but that’s not the same as having people the same age as you to go out with and watch movies and drink and dance and just be stupid and unwind with. 

You’re not even necessarily looking for friends at Nelson Road, just friends somewhere. The problem is, you’re not even sure how to go about it. You’ve spent the last decade of your life (yes, decade) working your ass off to get where you are now. Fourteen year-old knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. You had hustled through school, made connections, grew your resume, and saved every fucking penny until you landed a job that you were definitely under qualified for, but you had nailed the interview. You weren’t sure why your boss decided to take a chance on you, until he told you later he saw the same spark his daughter had in your eyes.

His daughter, who had become a multi-millionaire on her own by the time she was twenty-seven.

So, because someone saw the grit in your eyes of all places, you had a chance to make a fuck ton of money and have a fuck ton of benefits.

You made more connections, including a realtor who set you up with your current home at a price that was insane to normal people, but a steal to the rich. You were signing papers before it was even officially on the market.

It had been labelled as a “fixer-upper,” but that meant a little bit of scuffed paint and slightly outdated utilities. 

And it was yours.

It all came at a price though, didn’t it?

That price was not seeing your family often, sleeping poorly, and no real friends.

That’s why your brother makes it a point to come around. He knows that your lack of contact does not equate a lack of love.

Not everyone saw it that way. You’d lost all your friends at this point, labeled a bitch and a workaholic. So, you though, why the hell not just lean into it. You could be a bitch and a workaholic if it got things done. It was easier to harden the shell around your heart than let people in again.

—

Ok, maybe taking out all that anger on Jamie isn’t healthy, but hey, he’s the one fighting back so hard. 

Things keep happening. His foot is stuck out just enough to make you stumble as you pass each other in the hallway, your car is parked on the street just enough so he can’t get into his garage, ferocious glares are exchanged. Any conversation you are forced to have is laced with sarcastic, biting remarks that only serve make you close off even more. 

The worst part? You’re both fucking brilliant at hiding it. 

You’d have to be, especially at AFC Richmond under Ted Lasso’s command. If he got wind of this, he’d be all over it trying to fix it and neither of you want that. 

You see, Jamie’s a little bit fucked up too.

—

You’ve been at AFC Richmond for a year, and you’ve hated Jamie Tartt for eleven months.

Yet somehow, you’re in fucking Paris. 

Not with just Jamie, of course, but the whole team.

Rebecca’s basically given you a paid vacation because there isn’t much for you to do here. It’s great, the city of lights or something, but you can’t enjoy it. 

You’re in your room on the floor, becoming slowly dehydrated from crying.

Everything is all fuzzy and you’re incredibly disoriented, so you think you might be hallucinating when you hear a knock on the door.

It happens again, more insistently, and you think it’s probably Rebecca so you drag yourself up off the floor, wipe your eyes, and open it to find Jamie Tartt standing in front of you, clearly wishing to be anywhere else.

He’s staring at the top of the doorframe as he says, “Coach sent me to see if you want to go out with the lads tonight,” looking down only when you’ve left his statement unanswered for far too long.

His look of annoyance changes as he clocks your puffy eyes and red nose. 

“You alright?” he asks and you don’t even have the heart to say, obviously, don’t I look it? so you just nod and move to shut the door. 

Jamie blocks it with his hand and pushes it back open, then past you into the room.

It’s pristine, all marble and gold; and far too big for you. You would have preferred something smaller, something less empty. Something less cold. 

All you can do is stand there mutely in your t-shirt and sweatpants, watching your worst enemy clatter around in the room’s fridge looking for a water bottle.

He retrieves one and hands it to you, cap unscrewed.

You don’t ask if he’s spit in it, just take a sip and look at him with dead eyes.

“You look like shit,” he observes, breaking the silence. 

It’s not a dig. You’ve heard enough condescension from his lips to know when he’s fighting.

You shrug.

“You gonna say something?” Jamie asks, and that’s enough to get you going.

“You’re the one who’s in my room,” you say and instead of firing back, Jamie grins. 

“We can go to mine if you want, love,” he winks and in a terrible, awful, panic-inducing moment, you are thrown completely off your guard.

How the fuck are you supposed to reconcile this Jamie Tartt with the awful neighbor you hate? And is he- flirting? Surely not.

He registers your face going through a million expressions in an instant and sobers.

“Go sit,” he says, and you comply without thinking. You’re cross-legged on the couch and he thumps down next to you. He’s not close enough that you’re touching, but you can feel the heat radiating off his body. It’s funny, because you feel so cold. You wonder for a moment if your heart has actually turned to stone and that’s why you’re shivering.

You hear someone say, “My ex is here,” and are horrified to realize that you’re the one talking, and not only that, but you’re continuing. 

“He fucking… knew I’d be here. I saw him in the lobby. He acted like it was some great coincidence, but he was never a great liar. And… he’s here with his girlfriend. Fiancée, I guess. Because he’s proposing to her tonight. They’ve known each other less than a year, and he’s proposing to her. I saw him in the lobby looking like this while he’s in a fucking suit and all I can think about is the fact that he broke up with me because I wouldn’t put out because I wasn’t ready. And how he said he wasn’t the marrying type.” You pause.

“I broke my back making time for him. Everyone thinks I’m a workaholic and maybe I am, but I make time for the people I love. I made time for him. It sounds funny to say, especially how I am now, but he’s why I don’t anymore. Make time, I mean. Nobody notices I’m gone anyway. Or when I’m around. Or anything I do unless I’m doing something for them.”

You risk a look at Jamie. He’s studying your face with an intensity you’ve never seen and you look down to find his hand in yours, and you wonder how that happened. Your knuckles are white from gripping it but he’s holding it back and it gives you just enough of a boost to keep going.

“I don’t even want the money for myself. Like, I’m able to buy expensive shit and that’s cool, but the only reason I have a house that big is because my brother and his wife have a shit-ton of kids, and sometimes they need a break. So they can come over to mine and run around and have space and be wild for a week and I don’t care. They won’t let me give them money, so I have to think of creative ways to help them out. I only have nephews- they each have their own trust fund. It’s not that big right now, but it’s growing. It’ll be a lot by the time they’re each eighteen. And my parents… They died when I was fourteen. It was a stupid car accident, this freak thing with the brakes even though they’d just had the car serviced a week before. My brother was twenty one and newly married because he’s an idiot and he was in love. He and his wife let me live with them.”

You shake your head. “No, that’s not right, they didn’t just let me live with them, they took care of me. Bought me clothes and fed me and let me have my own room even though I said I could sleep on the couch. They could barely afford things for themselves, but they made sure I had what I needed. That’s why I threw myself into work and pushed people away. It’s for them, because I know I can never repay them. But I want to, even if they won’t let me.”

You’re done speaking, finally, and your face is bright red. It normally is when speaking to Jamie, but that’s from the sheer anger you usually feel from having to deal with him. This time it’s different. It’s from the embarrassment of being vulnerable in front of someone.

Jamie hasn’t said anything the whole time, just let you hold his hand. Your knees are touching now, and you realize that one of you must have shifted to make that happen.

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Why are you here, Jamie?” you ask softly. “You hate me. I don’t even know why I told you all that.”

He looks straight into your eyes. “I don’t hate you,” he says simply.

That’s enough to fully shatter the shell around your heart, and you’re shaking with silent sobs again as Jamie pulls you closer, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

—

You fall asleep like that, and you’re not sure at which point Jamie left. But when you wake up, you’re in your bed under a blanket. You think maybe you dreamed the whole thing until you see the note on your nightstand in messy handwriting.

I meant what I said.

—

Neither you nor Jamie comment on it, but something has changed. You don’t hate him anymore. He sits next to you on the plane back and cracks jokes, and you have a weird opportunity to apologize. He tells you he’s sorry too, explains about his dad, and you form a strange bond of repressed anger as a way to deal with hurt. 

Ted is right, forgiveness is the way to go.

—

Jamie Tartt makes it a point to ask you to go out with the lads every time they do group activities. You meet Rebecca’s friend Keeley, basically the only other girl, and pretty soon she’s invited herself over for girl’s nights. Jamie recognizes Keeley’s car the second time it happens and walks over to say hey. She invites him in, and suddenly he’s a fixture at girl’s night. His movie recommendations are shit, but his skincare products are not.

Since things at AFC Richmond aren’t as hectic as you’re used to, you start to pick up some of your old hobbies. Cooking, for example. You get your hands on a copy of Jamie’s diet plan and start experimenting with ways to make it more interesting. So now he’s at yours for dinner more often than not. 

He pops his head over the fence one Saturday afternoon, hearing young voices all morning. Your nephews are over and playing football in the backyard while your brother and sister-in-law deep clean their house. You’re sitting under an umbrella with the baby in your arms and a pitcher of water, when you hear Isaiah, the oldest, say, “Whoa! Is that Jamie Tartt?” 

You look up from Daniel’s tiny giggly face to see Jamie hanging over your fence and waving. You roll your eyes and grin back.

“Wanna come over?” you call, and the words are barely our of your mouth before he’s hopped over and starting to steal the ball from your four walking nephews.

They’re at it for a good thirty minutes before he calls time-out and is jogging over to you, all sweaty and grinning. 

“Didn’t know you were good with kids,” he says.

“Could say the same thing about you,” you shoot back.

He grabs water then makes a silly face at Daniel, who giggles and waves his arms. You laugh and kiss the baby on the top of his head, which makes him gurgle. You look up to see Jamie watching you strangely, so you wrinkle your nose at him. “What?” you say, but before he can open his mouth to respond, Jesse is pulling on Jamie’s hand, telling him the time-out is over.

—

Your next interaction of note happens after your third consecutive Richmond match. You don’t usually go to them, as it’s not required and you didn’t really care. But since you’ve been hanging out with the team, you find yourself taking Rebecca up on her offer to sit in the owner’s box. It’s three days until the next match and you’re looking for Jamie so you can eat lunch together. You find him in the locker room of all places and hand him his bag of food, yet another one of your experiments.

You’re starting to get really good revitalizing Jamie’s meal plan.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and you both miss the looks exchanged between Ted and Beard in their office.

Jamie puts down the lunch and says, “Oi, I got you something.” He reaches into his locker and pulls out a Richmond jersey.

“It’s new, it ain’t one of mine, but now you can wear it to matches.”

You shake it open to see it’s a Jamie Tartt jersey, and this makes you unreasonably happy.

Jamie’s grinning too, and it’s the rare kind of grin where his teeth look sharper and his eyes flash.

You hug it to your chest and say, “I’ll be sure to wear it Saturday,” before you and Jamie head to the café to eat.

— 

Keeley, of course, has comments about the jersey. You pretend not to understand what she’s saying.

—

It’s girls night again, and you and Jamie are pulling snacks out of his cabinets when your phones ding at the same time. It’s Keeley on your groupchat.

Can’t make it babes, something’s come up.

You make a comment involving the words “Roy Kent,” and riffing on her excuse, which makes Jamie laugh.

“I guess I’ll head back to mine,” you say, but Jamie tilts his head and says, “Or you could just… stay,” so you do.

You’re on his couch again, like the night you stopped hating him: your back agains his chest as you rub your thumb absentmindedly on his tattooed forearm.

You’re midway through the movie and explaining to Jamie the limited plausibility of it happening in real life, when he says a soft, oh shit as you pause to take a breath.

“What?” you say, sitting up. “Is everything alright?”

Jamie rubs a hand across his face. “You’re gonna fucking hate me again.”

You squint. “Not sure that’s possible. You’ve got too much dirt on me.”

Jamie just groans. “Nah, you’ll hate me. But I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

He grabs your hand and looks you straight in your eyes, giving you goosebumps.

“I’m fucking in love with you,” he says, and your brain still functions just enough to crash your lips into his.

You’re on top of him and his fingers are tangled in your hair, but as your fingers ghost his waistband, he stills and grabs your hand.

You freeze too, afraid you’ve crossed a line, but Jamie says, “I’m not fucking you for the first time on my couch. We’re going to do this proper,” and then he’s whisking you off your feet and up the stairs.

—

You know that fucking someone you work with is a line you said you’d never cross. But he was your neighbor first, and you’re in love, so it doesn’t count. You’re lying on Jamie’s bed gasping for air after god knows how long and all you can say is, “fuck me.”

Jamie smirks. “Thought I just did, babe, but I’ll go again,” and you’re seeing stars for the third time that night.

He’s sucking a line across your collarbone when you say, “Wait!”

Jamie is off of you in a moment, and you feel strangely empty.

“You alright?” he asks, all concern.

“I never said it back,” you explain. Jamie’s still confused.

“I love you too. You said you’re fucking in love with me. I’m in love with you too. Just thought I should make it clear.” 

Jamie’s looking at you all strange again, eyes dark, so you roll him back on top and let him devour you.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine

[unoriginal-and-dumb]

INTRO POST.

Hi, im UNO

I have a lot of names you can call me any version of my username. I’m an adult artist, I’ve been drawing seriously for (checks my awesome lightning McQueen watch) 5 years and animating for about 3! I’m primarily self taught, but am currently taking some college classes. I really like cartoons, games, and anything to do with space or cosmic horror

Please don’t tag my posts as ship art unless I specify it as such

I made that infected design!! Came all the way from my head to My math homework paper. Anywhere else you see a similar design is likely inspired from mine (which is fine, it’s only kinda weird when people start crediting someone else errr…. Don’t like that)

You don’t have to read all this, it’s just some stuff about me ⬇️

I do a lot of things other than regretevator, but since it’s my current hyperfixation it kinda just takes over everything

I have special interests in dead space, alien, the thing, nine inch nails, and pizza tower. I always fall back on those with the same love as usual so don’t be surprised seeing anything like/relating/or just of those

I am diagnosed ADHD, autism too I’m very very very INCREDIBLY INSANELY quiet and awkward with 1 on 1 conversations when I don’t know the person personally, sorry guys I may as well be a brick wall though. I am also generally a very private person

I don’t normally give two fucks about sharing sexuality but I feel it does explain things. I am VERY aromantic and UNBELIEVABLY asexual. Extremely sex repulsed, and I wouldn’t say romance *repulsed* but I am maybe just one step below it. It can get pretty bad and sometimes just ruins my day unfortunately. That’s why I ask people to please never tag my posts as ship art unless I do so!!

^ I am very nitpicky with it, but I do like certain ships to a degree! I enjoy Split and Bive, The Noise and Noisette, and a few others.

My page is welcoming to everyone, except for typical Dni criteria, no proshippers no hate none of that. I just wanna post my art and idk be annoying online 😄

I have never once in my god damn life made an intro post and I have never once wanted to either. HOWEVER, a lot of people have been mixing me up with like 2 other people and I don’t like that and neither do they believe it or not.

I’m hoping that introducing myself at all will help perhaps end that!

[heartsofminds]

Blooming (III)

“Scoot over then.”

(Y/N)’s eyes almost explode out of her skull. “You want me to what?”

“Jesus, chick. It was just a suggestion,” he chides, “Getting your panties all in a twist because I won’t sleep but then won’t let me sleep? Kinda counterintuitive, don’t you think?” or Rooster gets caught up from a hospital bracelet and she finally gets that kiss she wanted. 

Warning: Contains curse words and mentions of an age gap. 

A/N: Welcome back to part three of the Blooming series! I’m so incredibly excited to share this with you all. Thank you much for your continued support and patience. Stay tuned for more of the Blooming-verse as part four will be out soon! But for now, enjoy 10.8k words about the story of Rooster Bradshaw facing his relationship fears. 

Blooming, Blooming II

i. 

(Y/N) considers herself to be a private person. 

She’s an extremely private person, actually. But that’s only until someone wants to get information out of her and gives her that look. You know, the pointed one with the raised eyebrows and the slight smirk, the corners of their mouths serving as picks to the lock of all her inner thoughts. 

She swore she could give Ella Enchanted a run for her money by how quickly she would fess up if simply asked for the truth. 

(Y/N) partly blames herself but mostly blames her parents. Growing up in a military household with a greatly admired and high-ranked father meant that honesty and excellence were never not expected from her. And after the dissolution of her parents’ marriage, growing up with her helicopter mother who didn’t believe in keeping secrets put a nail in the coffin for her sub rosa thoughts and actions. 

Her high school friends joked around with her saying that they could never sneak out or drink or do anything outside of the agenda she had told her mother before leaving the house because the minute that someone with authority asked her for the truth, (Y/N)’s mouth was running a mile a minute with the hurried apologies following suit after. She simply couldn’t help it, and her upbringing paired with her innate desire to always do good and always do what was expected of her cemented her truth telling tendencies even farther. 

And so when she comes home in a stormy mood after being out past three AM and slams Penny’s guest bedroom door shut (waking Amelia up in the process who had school in the morning), her god sister knew something was up and was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

Amelia is mischievous and so fucking precocious. She had been raised around adults all her life so how could she not be? 

She didn’t know what the kids table at Thanksgiving looked like or what watching cartoons on a Saturday morning felt like. Hell, (Y/N) doesn’t think Amelia has ever played with a goddamn Barbie doll ever in her life, let alone relished in the thrill of going to a Build-a-Bear Workshop. 

She, much like her twenty-one year old god sister, liked the more “classic” things in life. They liked Raisin Bran and sudoku puzzles. They liked older 80s movies in comparison to their more modern remakes. They liked playing Scrabble and checkers. 

And while (Y/N)’s “refined” taste (which, the more she thought about it, really happened to emulate all that of an eighty year old man who resided in a nursing home) came from her own father and didn’t make an evident appearance until she was an older teenager, Amelia had always been this way. 

Because of that, Amelia was a bit of an odd ball to her peers but (Y/N) loved it. Her parents had split when she was eight and because of her father’s age and her mother’s anxiety towards parenting, they never dared having another kid after (Y/N). So when her Aunt Penny announced that she was having a baby,(Y/N) was more than ecstatic. 

She still remembers damn near exploding from joy when she found out Amelia was going to be a girl. 

Amelia was the closest thing (Y/N) has to a sibling and despite the seven year age gap, they’re so extremely close. It’s unusual; to have someone so much younger than you somehow be on the same page all the time but with (Y/N) and Amelia, there are no questions or genuine thinking required to read each other’s minds. 

They just knew how to. 

And despite how much (Y/N) adores Amelia or how much Amelia looks up to (Y/N), they irritate each other like no other. Getting under each other’s skin is each of their favorite pastimes and in true sister fashion, they go from ruthless screaming matches to braiding each other’s hair while sharing funny stories about their day. 

When the fighting gets really bad, (Y/N) usually drives to the closest Dunkin Donuts and buys Amelia her usual; wordlessly leaving it outside of her bedroom door. Amelia usually slips a note under (Y/N)’s door with a “One free ‘Yell at me’ coupon,” which makes (Y/N) laugh and embrace her in a huge hug stating, “I only yell with love,” which makes both of them bust out laughing at how ridiculous they both are. 

Even though Amelia is rather mature for a fourteen year old and her and (Y/N) basically share the same brain cells (even though they both joke about letting the other have ownership over them the day of a huge exam), she’s still a kid. And boy, does Amelia do all the shit that kid sisters tend to do. 

She doesn’t mean to be, but Amelia is fucking nosy. She’s always hated being out of the loop. In her humble opinion (which, okay she does admit that she’s only fourteen and that her credentials in the age category aren’t looking too hot), being the last to know is the deadliest punch in the gut. Being blindsided is the absolute worst, and if she can do anything to prevent it, she will. 

So as she lies in bed at three fifteen in the morning because (Y/N) came home pissed and slammed her door shut, Amelia knew something was up. (Y/N) had big emotions, but not big actions. Someone or something must have had to really piss her off for her to act that way and because she’s so goddamn private, Amelia knows that she won’t spill unless she absolutely has to and she won’t unless she’s made to sweat. 

And that’s what Amelia plans to do. 

The younger girl is spitting her toothpaste in the sink of the bathroom that stands between her bedroom and the guest bedroom when she notices that (Y/N)’s sour mood carries over to that morning. 

The door is closed and there’s no sign of life other than the faint sound of ocean waves in the background that (Y/N) has to put on in order to calm her mind to be able to sleep. It’s a quarter till eight, and (Y/N) being in bed still is extremely odd.

Amelia knows that (Y/N) is usually up and awake by now; having done her morning run or sunrise yoga or whatever the hell she usually does before Amelia gets ready to leave for school. She’s usually sitting on the porch with her mom by now, those ceramic mugs that have some cringey ass quip printed on them and sipping raspberry tea while they gab about life and college and boys. 

But she isn’t, and Amelia almost convinces herself it’s a good idea to knock and see if her god sister is awake before she chickens out. Her thoughts are interrupted by (Y/N) swinging the door open harshly. 

Her hair is thrown up messily and the dark circles under her eyes say that the ocean wave white noise she had on did little to assist her into slumber. The collar of the gray USD Law sweatshirt she has on sat crooked on her shoulder and her sleeping shorts are twisted. Another noticeable sign that it was a more than rough night is shown through the one sock on (Y/N)’s foot and the other being bare. 

She rubs at her face with her sweatshirt sleeve and shoots daggers at Amelia with her eyes; as if she was saying “I dare you to fucking speak to me right now” to her god sister. (Y/N) brushes by without as much of a wave or a “Good morning.”

So yeah, she’s fucking pissed and cranky. 

And Amelia is clever but sometimes her curiosity goes against her own best interest. Was it smart to follow (Y/N) to the kitchen when she had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Absolutely not, but Amelia always claimed that smart was something that she is occasionally, and not something that she is all the time. 

Also, she just had to get to the bottom of this. 

The honey-blonde teenager holds her breath as she waltzes into the kitchen, finding (Y/N) aggressively shaking the bag of Special K cereal into a ceramic bowl. Amelia goes to the fridge and gets out the almond milk. She shakes it and puts it next to (Y/N) who mumbles out a weak, “Thanks.” before filling her bowl and stabbing at her cereal with her spoon. 

Amelia leans on the counter, eyes lasered in on the back of the older girl’s head. She was gonna get her to talk and the only way to do so is to corner her. But right now her god sister’s rage emulates that of a rabid raccoon and she’s animal control with no equipment. 

She knows she’ll get her head bit off, but the void she has in her life that’s absent of her own drama desperately needs to be filled and she’ll be damned before she’s left out of anything going on with the people living in her own house. 

“Are you gonna fucking speak, Meals? Or are you just gonna stare laser beams in the back of my fucking skull like a dumbass?” (Y/N) grumbles and she knows that what she said is mean and uncalled for, but she’s just really not in the mood for her kid sister’s shenanigans today. 

Bradley Bradshaw really pissed her off last night and the feelings she feels are burning her up from the inside out. (Y/N)’s hurt, embarrassed, even because who the fuck does that? Who flirts and flirts and flirts and then unloads all their childhood stories before almost kissing her goodnight and then dipping out because she’s “too young”? 

“Too young” her ass. She’s a woman, for Christ’s sake. A smart, likable, kind (okay, well maybe not right now with how she just answered Amelia, but usually she is) young woman who is going to law school and is a college graduate. 

She’s not too young. Amelia is too young; especially to be butting her nose into (Y/N)’s business the way she is. 

(Y/N) knows that Amelia is just dying to ask her what’s wrong; hopeful to get a taste of whatever drama is brewing in the older girl’s life. She can see it now - the slightly upturned eyebrows and the small open mouthed gasp that Amelia does when she’e intently listening. She also folds her hands together in front of her and hangs on to every word that’s being said because Amelia ponders long and hard over what she hears and psychoanalyzes everything about it. 

(Y/N) would say that she hates that about Amelia but can never find herself to because she knows that she’s the same exact way. Her god sister’s nosy tendencies are simply learned behavior. 

So as she stabs at her cereal and almost grinds her teeth as she chews because of how angry she is, she tries to find it within herself to withhold taking out her anger on Amelia. She almost throws her a bone and lets her in on what had happened, but realized that she’d have to omit so many details that Amelia would never be satisfied and would keep picking and picking and picking until she finally broke and (Y/N)’s just not ready for that. She’s not letting her fourteen year old god sister know how embarrassed she is. She’s not letting her know how little sleep she got over the entire situation or how irritated and disrespected she feels.

“Wow. Aren’t you a goddamn ray of sunshine this morning,” Amelia snarls back, already having enough of (Y/N)’s piss poor attitude. (Y/N) may be pissed, but she’s not the one who got woken up at three in the morning because of some hissy fitted rage party. . 

(Y/N) drops the cereal off of her spoon back into the abyss of milk. She sets her utensil down before turning her head to the side, adjusting her vision so she can see Amelia a little bit better. 

“Language. You know how your mom and I feel about you cussing,” is all she can manage to say and seriously, when did Amelia get so sassy? 

Amelia rolls her eyes. She may be younger than (Y/N), but she’s certainly not a child. She’s always been told she’s mature for her age, so why is her god sister acting like the seven year age gap is a big deal now? And besides, she already has a mom and a dad. 

She doesn’t need (Y/N) trying to fill in for what’s missing.

“So it’s okay for you to say an entire dictionary of cuss words but the second I say some “is it or not” cuss word you’re lecturing me?” 

(Y/N) rolls her eyes. She’s totally, absolutely, positively not in the mood today. “If you’re trying to be nosy and play Nancy Drew or whatever you’re doing, please don’t try it,” she snaps, “M’not putting up with your bullshit today, Meals. Go find something else to do.”  

Amelia raises her eyebrows. “Seriously?” she quips, “You wanna be like that with me when I’m not the one who pissed you off?” 

(Y/N) groans because great; not only is she pissed, but now her appetite is ruined. “You’re pissing me off right now because you won’t butt out. Leave me the fuck alone.” She slides the stool away from the bar top counter and puts her bowl in the sink. 

She’ll just come back and clean it later. She just seriously needs to get away from Amelia right now because she’ll explode if she’s around her pestering god sister for any longer. 

“And you’re pissing me off because someone obviously peed in your Cheerios and you’re making it everyone else’s problem.” 

(Y/N) rolls her eyes again and starts to stalk back up the stairs. She knows that she’s being childish and she can’t believe that she’s about to argue with a fucking middle schooler, but she’s standing her ground. The last thing she needs is Amelia teasing her relentlessly about Bradley Bradshaw and how he basically curved the fuck out of her the night prior. 

Amelia follows her. (Y/N)’s not getting away from her without any answers just yet; especially taking into account that she really just wants to know what’s wrong with (Y/N) and how she can help. She may be nosy, but she also has a conscience.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” (Y/N) damn near growls. God, why did Amelia have to be so damn stubborn? “I’m obviously mad and you’re not making my day any better!” 

“Can’t you just not get all pissy and aggravated and slam doors at fucking-” (Y/N) shoots her a death glare before Amelia corrects herself. 

The cussing, right.

“Freaking. I meant freaking. You can’t just be all mad and slam doors at freaking three AM when I have school and you know I was asleep,” Amelia continues, “That’s just crappy, (Y/N), and I would never do that to you.” 

(Y/N) stands at the top of the stairs and angrily huffs. Amelia has a point and a pretty fair one at that but she’d rather die than back down now. That’s (Y/N)’s problem in a nutshell; she’s too goddamn hardheaded but also strives on being a people pleaser and if you asked her (or anyone on the street, really) that would be considered a combination for disaster. 

“And I would never put my nose in business that’s clearly yours. Fuck off, Meals.” 

(Y/N) stomps back to her bedroom and slams the door even harder than she had the night previously. She’s so enraged and she feels so stupid. She’s never been this embarrassed over a boy since she was a freshman in high school and she knows she’s being childish and she knows that what she said to Amelia isn’t fair or kind in the slightest, but she can’t help but fall back into that “being mad at the world” teenage narrative she had thought she left behind. 

Hell, she’s only not been a teenager for two years but the amount of growth that she’s done since then has just drastically taken a decline. She feels like she’s sixteen again and fighting with her mother about a stupid boy who convinced her to sneak out or break her curfew or lie about where she was going or whatever melodramatic teenage drama bullshit that seems like a big deal at the time but ceases to pose a real threat the minute you move out of your parents’ home. 

Amelia groans in frustration before turning on her heel. She’s not sure if her irritation is because of her lack of sleep or because (Y/N) is being, for lack of better term, a total bitch right now. The teenager slings her backpack over her shoulder, and stomps obnoxiously to her front door. 

(Y/N) lays on her stomach and puts back on the ocean wave sounds she had turned on late last night and her stomach drops when she realizes that that was the background noise to the memory that had Bradley Bradshaw cupping her face and telling her that she’s too young. 

ii. 

Jake Seresin had really done it this time. 

It wasn’t a secret that him and Bradley weren’t the greatest of friends. 

Well, actually, scratch that. 

Rooster and Hangman weren’t friends at all and that fact was made so obviously apparent to anyone who found themselves in the same room with the two pilots for longer than fifteen seconds. 

The constant banter and low blows, the “joking” that wasn’t really a joke, the more than aggressively sarcastic handshakes and back pats; it was a limbo contest of who could go the lowest without one of them jumping up and trying to beat the brakes off the other. 

It’s stupid, they know, but what else is expected when you’ve been told you were great all your life? Competition obviously rises and “survival of the fittest” starts to kick in and the sooner you can push someone out, the sooner you can be pushed into the vacancy that person had left. 

Jake is charismatic and can get anyone to do his bidding if he so much as put his hand on their shoulder and stared deep into their eyes. He has a talent for getting anyone to follow him, but he’s selfish and extremely reckless. Jumping off the bridge is certainly his idea until his loyal followers do so, and then he bails after realizing how stupid the idea was in the first place. He’s a leader who never asks for a crowd, and that’s evident once he leaves them hanging. 

Hence, the call sign, Hangman, but that doesn’t take a genius to decipher.

And call Bradley old school but that’s definitely not how military men should be and it drives him absolutely insane. 

Bradley is more calm and is the literal epitome of a dad, but a good one. He listens intently and gives everyone his full attention. He’s stubborn but adaptable. He takes his time and plays it safe always, even when he knows that he should take a risk every now and then. He’s always looking out for other people and is constantly sacrificing his happiness and successes for the well-being of others. 

Bradley is a skilled pilot; the patience and meticulous practice made him so whereas Jake was good because he was a natural (by some freakish fluke of nature). The difference between the two is their confidence and Bradley can’t wrap his head around how Jake gets a thrill from putting himself and his team in constant danger, and Jake can’t understand why Bradley acts as if he’ll spontaneously combust every time his F-18 goes up in the air. 

Bradley has a tendency to parent everyone else and he never means to, and it always just sort of happens, but being told what to do (which makes joining the Navy an odd career path for him) is one of Jake’s biggest pet peeves. It’s just annoying, Hangman thinks, how Rooster corrals everyone and is constantly playing dad. 

Jake already has a father; he doesn’t need a guy who’s only four years older than him trying to parent him. 

Their rivalry started as just friction. They have vastly different personalities and it’s not like any of that isn’t okay. It wasn’t like either of them had to be best friends after graduation. But then Jake realized that “Holy fuck,” Rooster was good and then Rooster realized that “Holy shit,” Jake was good.

And the innate, primal need to succeed, to prove who was better and who would come out on top, just started one day and it never stopped. It was a conscious effort at first, but then it spiraled into a muscle memory-like performance. 

They competed over everything. They competed over who could get their flight gear on the fastest. They competed on who could lift heavier and for longer durations of time. They even fucking competed to see who could complete a crossword puzzle fastest.  

Jake and Bradley know that they’re ridiculous and that the dick measuring contests that they always seemed to be having were quite childish for grown men. They shouldn’t be fighting like rowdy first graders at recess after eating a lunch packed full of sugar, but they can’t help it and they would rather die than lose and let the other having bragging rights.

But then somewhere along the road the competition changed into an uncontrollable beast; a means to be watching each other constantly to see what could make the other tick and thus a new game was created: Who could make who lose their composure first? 

To be totally fair, Bradley started the war by moving Jake’s things one day after a training session. He hadn’t meant to move the items in a way that would’ve set the pilot off, but he did and then Jake came barreling in and freaking the fuck out because his water bottle and shirt were placed in a different stall than he had originally put them. The thought to fess up and apologize definitely crossed Bradley’s mind, but he withheld. 

He liked seeing Jake frantic and upset. He liked knowing that he could toy with him and that he could make the blond sweat if he truly wanted. Bradley was raised better than that, he had known, and he’s sure his mother and father were looking down on him with some disappointment about being so mean, but fuck it. 

Jake Seresin was like a canker sore when you’re eating salt and vinegar chips; annoying and downright painful to be around. 

Over the years and time spent freakishly observing each other, they had learned quite a bit. Bradley hated the sound of teeth scraping against utensils and Jake made sure to find a seat near Bradley but never next to him, and would bite the hell out of his fork whenever he ate his dinner. Jake loathed the sound of styrofoam rubbing together, so whenever Bradley would get handed a styrofoam to go box, he always made sure to be around Jake before opening and closing the box repeatedly. Jake knew he was doing it on purpose but couldn’t help but wonder how the hell someone could find the willpower to open and shut a fucking takeaway box over and over and over again. 

And yes it was annoying and yes it garnered many eye rolls from their friends, but it was entertaining and always kept the pair busy. If anything, it was like a big brother, little brother relationship; irritating the hell out of each other but never going too far. 

Except this wasn’t a big brother, little brother relationship and that they were both, in fact, fighting to be the big brother because big brothers always have more respect.

And they usually never went too far until one day, Jake just did. 

He was raised by a more than conservative Baptist pastor in Texas, and Jake knew that his parents would have a cow if they ever pieced together that he was having premarital sex; let alone, premarital sex that was with someone else’s girlfriend. He was raised better and he knew it, but he was also raised in a family full of sisters and if there’s one thing he learned from having five older ones, everything was an eye-for-an-eye. 

So when Bradley off-handedly joked about fucking Jake’s ex-girlfriend one day, he couldn’t help but let the comment grind his gears until his gears started turning on the perfect way to get back at the brunette pilot. 

While what Bradley said was a joke and was exactly just that, Jake was plotting, and he wasn’t joking in the slightest. So the true hatred and resentment started when a leggy red-head (That amazed Jake with how flexible she was because goddamn, girls can bend like that?) was scratching at his back and calling him “daddy” in a supply closet, and he can truly say that that exact moment was when he knew that there were no limits to the competition he and Bradley Bradshaw had. 

“An eye for an eye” it was, and “an eye for an eye” it would always be. 

So when he notices the tension between Captain Mitchell and Rooster, Hangman can’t help but find him studying the two. He notices the golfball like bulge that emerges from Rooster’s jaw whenever he has to speak to Maverick. He notices how Maverick’s eyes nervously dart across Rooster’s face; as if he’s searching for answers in the younger man’s features without having to ask him questions. 

Jake is always looking and always scheming; even going as far to ask Phoenix if she thinks Bradley is acting weird to which she rolls her eyes and says, “If this is you trying to get under his skin, please leave me out of it. Had enough of you two dumbasses in flight school. I don’t need this shit now.” And then she slammed her locker shut before slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder and leaving the base for the day. 

But little to her knowledge did she know that her answer gave Jake all the information he needed. Phoenix had a protective streak to her, but she never stuck up for someone unless she felt they couldn’t do it themselves. So with the aggravated body language coming from Rooster and Maverick’s interactions in the past two days they had been training and Natasha’s head biting whenever he asked her a simple question, Jake Seresin had an sparkle in his eye and his smirk saying that he was up to no good. 

He snoops around the headquarters for more evidence to further solidify his suspicion and what he finds truly falls upon him like a lucky accident. 

It manifests itself as a labeled picture on the wall with Maverick Mitchell and Goose Bradshaw, arms slung across the back of each other’s necks along with Admiral Kazansky and various other pilots whom he’d encountered from his time floating from base to base; the Top Gun class of 1986. 

And holy fucking shit, did Seresin have some ammunition for Bradshaw. 

He likes to play dumb; like all he happens to be is a pretty face with a hot body but no one is that dense to not give Hangman credit for being intelligent. So he waits to unleash his findings until he knows Rooster is at one of his most vulnerable moments. 

He waits and waits and waits and then he strikes, which sends the entire fleet of pilots into a fit of gasps and has Bradley beet red and ready to wring his neck. 

Jake Seresin wasn’t afraid of many things, but the absolute anger and rage encapsulated in Bradley Bradshaw’s face was a look he had never seen before; even when he had been caught fucking that red head all those moons ago. This was different and he swears Bradley’s eyes are completely black with fury and his body emitting so much heat that Jake feels like he’s on fire himself the minute the other pilot has him by his collar. 

The knife was already plunged and it was too late to back out now; no matter how truly terrified he was of Bradley in that moment. He knows he should quit, but a job half done isn’t a job well done. 

And in true asshole-ish Hangman fashion, he has to be calm and collected and to twist the knife even more he adds a, “You know he’s not cut out for this mission,” which makes Bradley completely seethe and molt into one with his anger. 

Jake softly grins to himself as soon as the altercation is broken up and Maverick announces that they’re done for the day. He knows that he won and Bradley lost. 

Bradley can feel it too and he’s so inexplicably pissed, but nothing makes him feel more angered than the deceased father he never had the pleasure of getting to know and the stand-in, who let him down and let an entire fifteen years pass with Bradley thinking he didn’t believe in him. 

iii. 

(Y/N) likes to tell herself that she doesn’t hold grudges; that she’s understanding and empathetic and “noble.” 

Her entire life was wrapped up in achieving the nirvana of selflessness and she doesn’t know if it’s because she was raised by such charitable and giving people or if she was born with some freakish gene that always made herself put her well-being last no matter what. 

She was the kindergartener who would cry in solidarity whenever a kid scraped their knee on the playground. She was the third-grader who donated all her birthday presents to kids whose families were in need. She was the middle schooler who still invited everyone in the class to her birthday parties (even if they were weird or cruel or just downright annoying, but she could never find herself rejecting anyone). She was the high schooler who offered everyone rides home after soccer practice despite her mother yelling at her for “wasting” her gas. 

She was the girl who was always said to be kind and helpful with a sweet heart and bright eyes. 

But here she is on a Tuesday night at 11 PM about to crush a shot glass in her bare hand because of some stupid comment some pilot said about her age. If she could punch Bradley Bradshaw square in the face and break his stupid aviator sunglasses (and maybe his nose too, but then she figures that that’s too much harm to wish on someone), she would with no hesitation.

The main problem she’s finding with directing her anger is that Bradley wasn’t rude about it. What he said about her being too young wasn’t some idiotic flirtatious remark that came off creepy. It wasn’t an insult. It wasn’t even a true comment, and from the way he said it, it almost seemed like it was a thought he had had that was never supposed to grace her ears; as if he was thinking hard and his thoughts were too loud for his liking. 

There are better things to be upset about and she knows this, but she still can’t help but feel the hot anger in her chest. It’s the same kind of anger that flourishes when you’re just on the cusp of getting what you want and it’s pulled away from you; taunting you as the picture of it grows blurrier and blurrier and you’re left screaming because you’re so damn frustrated; because you were so fucking close. 

And yeah, (Y/N) does admit she’s being dramatic, but she can’t remember ever wanting someone’s attention so badly before. The last boy who she found enticing cheated on her after two and a half years together, and that was during the summer of her Junior year of college. Nevertheless, the disrespect still hurts her feelings if she thinks about it too hard and the lack of sex she’s had since then was almost insulting. 

So sue her if she was hoping Bradley could provide her with a few orgasms and some cuddles. He also wasn’t a bad storyteller and despite her anger, she wasn’t blind. He was hot as hell, too. 

But she just can’t get over the way he held her cheek that night. The way that his hazel eyes found her’s; searching for a reason to say what he said. She can still feel the gentle squeeze of his palm on her face. Her ex-boyfriend had tried to make that their “thing” when they had first started dating and it always made her uncomfortable. 

He was too rough, too unthoughtful, and ultimately too unfaithful. She thinks her feeling borderline disgusted by her ex cupping her cheek was a foreshadowing of him cheating on her. It was ironic how he was holding her face with that same hand and then smushing the face of another girl into a pillow soon after. 

But Bradley was different. 

His actions were slow and thoughtful. He was gentle, almost like a child holding his mother’s good China and not wanting to drop it. Bradley was cautious and sweet and that was something that (Y/N) had never truly experienced with a man; no matter how interested or in love with her she thought he was. 

She was dying for him to kiss her and dead she is because he didn’t. 

“You’re too young.” 

It echoes in her head and she finds her face growing hotter and her knuckles getting more white the harder she squeezed the shot glass she had in her hand. Her age and Bradley’s disdain for it rings in her ears as if it's a fact and it is one, which is the shittiest part about it all. 

“You’re too young,” patronizes her mind as if she wasn’t successful and brilliant and mature. 

“You’re too young,” taunts her and embarrasses her, as if she’s ten years old again and being banished to the kids’ table at Thanksgiving. 

“You’re too young,” screams at her as if her lack of experience and lack of opening herself up to the world is the reasoning behind why things never seemed to ever work out for her. 

And the pressure of the thoughts her mind is bogging her brain down with starts to shut off her oxygen. She can’t see the empty bar. She can’t feel the shot glass in her hand. She can’t even feel her heart beating. 

Her knuckles are white from trying to hold on for some explanation, some reason, why she can’t seem to shake this statement and there’s no other thoughts floating around in her brain that allow her to dislodge it. 

“Fuck you, Bradley Bradshaw,” she thinks. 

And she squeezes her hands together so tight that she’s snapped out of her hateful thoughts when she feels a shooting pain in her left hand and oh fuck. 

The scarlet flowing from her palm sends her into a panic and her face turns white. 

Holy shit, there’s no way this is happening. 

There’s no way this is happening at 11:15 PM on a Tuesday night while she’s closing at the Hard Deck with no one else around. 

“Penny is gonna fucking skin me alive,” she thinks, the blood dripping down her baby blue tube top-covered torso the closer she pushes her wound to her chest. The fabric is stained purple from how quickly her blood is absorbing into it. 

Napkins, she needs napkins. 

And she frantically scans the bar for a table that has a dispenser on it, knowing that Penny doesn’t keep any at the bar top. Her eyes look around almost comically before landing on the man of the goddamn hour: Bradley fuckface Bradshaw who has his eyes wide and his mouth gaped open. 

“Holy shit! What did you do?” 

iv.

Bradley knows he should stop coming to the Hard Deck when they close, but he needs to see Penny. 

He figures showing up unannounced at her house isn’t the best way to go; especially considering he hadn’t been there in close to fifteen years. It doesn’t matter if he sends her a Mother’s Day card each year or knows that she would never turn him away. Something about it doesn’t sit right with his soul. 

He tends to not do a lot of things if it doesn’t settle right in his stomach. 

He’s usually calm. He’s usually collected. He usually has it all together but ever since he received orders to come back to Miramar, he’s been losing it. The bags underneath his eyes are prominent and he’s been averaging a total of four hours and twenty-two minutes of sleep each night (per the Sleep Cycle app on his phone which he knows isn’t very accurate but he can certainly feel the exhaustion so he’ll let it slide). 

Bradley was really set off today with Jake and Maverick and the lack of sleep he’s been experiencing. He needed guidance. Truthfully, he needed his mother and he would have rather died than admit that when she was still alive and he was a prideful eighteen-year-old, but here he is now at thirty-five with an ache in his chest and a hole he’s not quite figured out how to fill. 

Penny Benjamin, his old babysitter, is the closest thing he had to a mother now and he just has to find her. 

So Bradley barrels into the Hard Deck and slams the door open on his quest to find Penny and figure out why the fuck he’s feeling this way. 

The jukebox has been turned off and all the stools are stacked on the tables. The Hard Deck is a sorry excuse for a hangout spot at this hour and the smell of draft beer and scotch that usually soaked the atmosphere was gone; dried up like water spilled on the sidewalk on a hot day. 

Bradley wrinkles his nose, using his curved pointer finger to roughly rub the end of it; a nervous tick he developed when he was a kid. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous to see Penny. She was comforting and sweet; the best kind of woman and someone who Bradley could say he trusted with his entire life. He used to say the same about his Uncle Maverick, but like they say, things change. 

And things change indeed when he bursts through the doors and sees Penny nowhere in sight. 

Well, fuck. (Y/N) is Penny’s replacement, he guesses. 

The avalanche of actions tumbles down on him the minute he sees her; baby blue tube top sitting perfectly pretty on her body and her shoulders slightly shiny from either sweat or leftover tanning oil she may have put on earlier in the day. The sight makes Bradley’s mouth water with want and dry with embarrassment, simultaneously. His eyes drink in the sight of her face and his palms can feel the ghost of her cheek he held the night before. 

(Y/N) has a frown on her face and is dissociating. The shot glass in her hand and the purple rag she has in the other serve as simple distractions for her hands. Bradley takes in how she doesn’t look up at him and how white her knuckles are - almost like she’s holding onto dear life to keep her from spazzing out. 

And then it clicks that she’s probably angry with him and Bradley, despite his better judgment, decides that he needs to do some damage control. 

He’s such a fuck up, he thinks, and he can’t afford to fuck someone else up in the process too.

“(Y/N)?” he asks softly, cautiously approaching the bar top; eyes swimming in her appearance to see if she was okay. 

She doesn’t meet his gaze. She just stares ahead, her fingers gripping the glass in her hand so hard that her arms are shaking. 

“Hey! Are you okay?” Bradley asks again, footsteps approaching her cautiously. 

A small pop, a sound that could be made by someone stepping on some small fragments of glass with their boots on, can be heard and Bradley is just astonished. The crimson falling from her hand gives proof of what she had just done; her eyes widening comically and her face looking solemn like a child who had just been caught stealing cookies from the jar. 

Her face is drained of color and Bradley figures it still hasn’t clicked that he’s in front of her. She clutches her hand to her chest and the fabric of her shirt is covered in blood. Bradley’s never done well with blood and other things like that; almost threw up all over himself whenever he would skin his knees when he was little. 

But his instincts kick in and he lives up to his call sign: Rooster. He’s about to corral her and protect her the best he can. He has to. 

“Holy shit! What did you do?” he yells, rushing towards her. 

She looks at him wide-eyed and no words can rush out of her gaping mouth. She looks fearful and shocked. While he suspects her injury isn’t extremely drastic (okay well getting a shot glass crushed in your hand has to hurt like a bitch, he admits), she’s bleeding a lot and she’ll definitely need stitches. 

“I-I don’t know. Fuck, my hand,” she pauses before turning to him again, “Fuck! Penny’s gonna kill me! I got blood all over the bar. Oh my God, she’s gonna skin me!” 

Rooster shrugs off his Hawaiian shirt and pulls the white tank top underneath off by its straps. He needed to get her something to help her apply pressure and absorb the blood. He knows that the thin, poor excuses for napkins Penny has at the bar won’t do much to help, and asking her to take her tube top off to wrap around her hand would be a little too much. 

She definitely can’t have on a bra with that top. He had been around enough girls in his life to know that for a fact and besides, it wasn’t like he was here to make her uncomfortable purposely. 

“No she won’t,” he comforts. He has his shirt in one hand and folds it vertically to maximize the surface area. 

“Here,” he directs, taking her arm gently and inspecting her wound, and God, did that glass cut fucking deep. 

Two deep cuts carved their way into her left hand and the pools of crimson flowing from them tell Bradley all that he needs to know. 

She indefinitely needs stitches. 

Bradley wraps the tank top around her palm and instructs her to hold it tight. She presses her lips in a faint line and tries to calm herself. 

One deep breath in, one deep breath out. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, the-

“Where’s your purse? I’m taking you to the ER.” 

She narrows her eyes at him. Now he wants to play hero, she thinks. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this situation at all. 

“I can drive myself,” she snaps. 

He chuckles and shakes his head and she instantly feels patronized. It was the kind of laugh her babysitters used to do whenever she asked if ten was a grown-up age. Newsflash, it wasn’t and she came to know that pretty quickly, but not before she felt the fury and embarrassment of being chortled at; especially when she had done nothing amusing. 

“Really? You want blood all over your car? And what’re you gonna do about using your turn signals,” he tries to reason, “You don’t have the fingers to do that, chick.” 

And God, does she want to punch him in his stupid, handsome face. 

“Fuck you,” she mumbles underneath her breath. No matter how upset she was, she couldn’t not agree that he had some valid points. Being a bitch got Amelia pissed at her earlier. The last thing she needs is to be left hanging with glass in her hand with no ride home because of her own childish emotions. 

Thank God he didn’t hear her. 

“Where’s your purse? I’m locking up and taking you to the hospital.” She opens her mouth to argue with him again, to insist that she can call an Uber or Penny, but Bradley shuts her down. 

“Non-negotiable.” 

She puts her head down like a scolded puppy and points to the back by the kitchen with her uninjured hand. 

Rooster offers her a warm smile. “Good girl,” he says, patting her shoulder as he walks past her to grab the bag from the back. 

He tosses the keys to his Bronco on the bar top. “If you want, you can start the car. Just promise not to drive off with it?” He offers her a weak smile. 

(Y/N) puffs and exhales her annoyance. “Can’t promise I’ll be there still once you lock up.” 

Bradley knows that she won’t take off. She can be snippy and has proven it to him time and time again with her quick remarks and her attitude toward him right now, but to her core, she’s a good person. She would never intentionally do something like that to anyone; no matter how pissed off they had made her. 

As he hears the front door to the Hard Deck open and close with (Y/N)’s exit, he looks up at the clock. It reads 11:30 PM and fuck, waking up tomorrow is gonna be a pain in the ass, he knows. But he would rather have a late night with her than his own thoughts. 

And yeah, Bradley Bradshaw thinks he can start to get used to the smart ass girl sitting in the passenger seat of his car right now. 

v. 

“Are you planning on buttoning up your shirt anytime soon? I’m sick of the nurses coming by and gawking at you,” (Y/N) gripes, “Giving you all the attention when I’m the one with my hand damn near hanging off.” 

Bradley scoffs. “You’re being dramatic. And besides, this is kind of your own fault. No one told you to turn into the Incredible Hulk and crush a shot glass with your bare hand.” 

The emergency room is bustling with people; moms in labor, car accidents left and right, and people coming in screaming in pain. There’s no way her low “high” maintenance stitches would be taken care of any sooner than later. That was predetermined the minute they decided to drive instead of calling an ambulance. 

It’s nearing 2 AM and (Y/N) is still clutching Rooster’s white (well, dark red now) tank top in her left hand and with a sulky frown on her face. Her ass hurts from the vinyl plastic that serves as an awful mattress that makes up an ER bed. She knows that Bradley is more than uncomfortable from the way he shifts constantly in the mossy blue chair next to her bedside. 

She ignores his statement. What she had done was rather childish and she can’t come to grips with it herself, so what does she look like telling the person who caused her rage-induced tantrum? 

“You’re sunburnt,” she states. That’ll have to do for now. Bradley already knows a lot about her. He doesn’t need to know everything. 

“In a sexy Baywatch kinda way?” he jokingly asks and (Y/N) gives him a soft laugh. 

“No. Your chest is pink,” she continues, “More of a Patrick Star kind of way.” 

“You like it though.” 

“We’re here to fix my hand. Not your self-confidence.” 

Bradley laughs before starting to button his shirt up. “You’re a hoot, chick.” 

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows. In the past two and some hours she’s spent with Bradley Bradshaw (and the various other times she’s been with him, but she’s not sure that those can actually count for something) she’s learned a lot about his mannerisms. 

He’s always tapping his foot or rubbing his hands up and down his thighs when he’s sitting down. He uses old people's jargon. He leans on his right arm more than his left and he’s always checking his watch. When he gets tired he mumbles and then swipes his hand over his face before sitting up straighter. 

A big yawn comes from his pink lips and (Y/N) knows that she should speak up. He has to be up at five AM tomorrow morning for training at six. He should at least be able to go home and get some sleep. 

“Bradley?” she softly asks. 

“Hmm?” he answers, slouching down in his seat a little bit more but instantly shooting up to sit straight. 

(Y/N) chuckles softly and Bradley can’t deny that the sound makes his heart melt the smallest bit. 

“You can go home if you need to. I’ll get stitched up and figure out a ride.” 

Rooster sits up straighter; confusion plaguing his features. “Why would I leave you here?” 

Her eyes widen. Holy shit, he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. 

“You have to be up early tomorrow. Just go home. I’m a big girl,” she flexes the small and albeit mushy muscles of her right arm, “I can handle it.” 

“Are you kidding? A shot glass took you out. No way I’m leaving you at the hospital by yourself.” 

And like how it was at the Hard Deck, the look he shoots her tells her that what he said is “non-negotiable.” He was staying, driving her home, and that was final. 

“You need sleep, Bradley. You can’t just pull an all-nighter and then go and operate a plane. That’s just dangerous,” she lectures and Bradley lets out a yawn during her sentence. 

She almost says some snide remark about him being rude and how she’s not that boring but Bradley beats her to fill the silence with his voice. 

“Scoot over then.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes almost explode out of her skull. “You want me to what?” 

“Jesus, chick. It was just a suggestion,” he chides, “Getting your panties all in a twist because I won’t sleep but then won’t let me sleep? Kinda counterintuitive, don’t you think?” 

She’s at a loss for words but he can’t have the final say. No one else could ever have the final say with her. 

“Be my guest,” she says as she scoots over on the ER cot and makes enough space for him to lay down. 

Rooster smirks to himself. He didn’t think that would work, let alone work on her. She doesn’t know it and he sure as hell will never tell her, but his heart was racing during that entire interaction. The rejection would have been rather embarrassing; especially considering they didn’t know how soon she could get stitched up and that he promised to drop her off at home.

He slides onto the bed next to her but he’s too broad. His shoulder is nudging her off the bed and he knows that she’s uncomfortable but is such a giver that she won’t say so and would let him fall asleep like that if he really wanted to. 

But Bradley’s not an asshole (at least he isn’t one consciously) so he speaks up after he clears his throat. 

“Yeah, this isn’t gonna work. Not at all,” he says and turns his head to the side to look at her. Her eyes tell him that “Well no dip, shit.” but he knows that she wouldn’t dare say it out loud. Not right now when she feels indebted to him for driving her to the hospital and staying with her while she waits. 

He nudges her shoulder before sliding back out of the bed. Bradley reaches for her right hand. “Here, budge up.” 

He pulls her up as if she weighs nothing and she stands in awe as he lays down first on the bed but spreads his legs. And oh, now she knows what he’s doing. 

“Come lay down with me. You deserve to sleep some, too,” he says and she cautiously meanders her way to lay between his legs; her back pressed to his chest and her head falling into the crevice between his neck and shoulder. 

“Won’t your arm fall asleep or something? I just don’t wanna be a bother.” 

Bradley lets out a puff of air before wrapping both his arms around her front. His hands are joined together beneath her sternum. 

“(Y/N)?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up and go to bed.” 

She rolls her eyes but she can’t fight him on it. And as they lay there she can hear the soft snores of the older man laying behind her and allows herself to drift off to a comatose state as well. 

vi. 

The doctor comes in about an hour after they doze off. 

She’s a short woman with dark hair and tan skin; some crow's feet by her eyes and the skin on her hands slightly thinned. She looked kind and motherly and as she pulls the curtain back softly, she finds the two dead to the world in their slumber. 

Doctor Tharp has to stop herself from audibly cooing. 

The position (Y/N) and Bradley are in makes her think of her and her husband years ago. Lovebirds, she thinks, and while she would rather sit there and stare at them in awe, she knows that she has to get this poor girl stitched up and sent on her way home as soon as she can. 

She nearly had a cow when she had heard that they had been waiting to see a doctor for stitches since 11:30 the night before. How the hell they had slipped through the cracks? She doesn’t know, but she makes a mental note to be extra kind to them while she performs her services. 

Doctor Tharp gently shakes (Y/N) awake; the younger girl stirring with a gasp and some anxiousness before a hand is placed on her shoulder. 

“Good morning, (Y/N). Have a good rest?” the doctor asks and (Y/N) hopes that this is who is going to stitch her up and send her on her merry way. 

“It was okay. Would’ve been better if bozo here wasn’t snoring in my ear the entire time,” she answers and that makes Doctor Tharp laugh softly. 

“Let’s get you stitched up,” she says, and (Y/N) unwraps Bradley’s arms from around her midsection and scoots closer down the bed to be near the tray that holds the instruments needed for her stitches. 

Doctor Tharp numbs the area with lidocaine and asks her to move her fingers and her thumb on her left hand and as she starts suturing the wound and picking out the shards of glass left in her skin, she finds things to talk about with the younger girl. 

(Y/N) tells her the basics that she’s seemed to be telling everyone older than the age of twenty-one these days; that she just graduated from undergrad and that she was going to law school in the fall, that she’s not from here and visiting her godmother, that she loves California and doesn’t know why she left it. 

And Doctor Tharp knows she shouldn’t and it goes against her own beliefs but she just has to know who the young man sitting behind (Y/N) is and wants to comment on how sweetly he was holding her just a few moments prior. 

“You and that boy are such a sweet couple,” she says and (Y/N)’s eyes bulge out of her skull. 

“Oh me and Bradley? No. No, no,” she starts and she knows that she’s rambling. She does it quite a bit when she gets nervous and doesn’t know what to say. 

Her damn Ella Enchanted gene is kicking in. 

“We’re just friends. Sorta just met a week and some change ago,” she answers and while what she said wasn’t a lie in the slightest (they were friends and they did just meet not that long ago) she can’t help but feel the ache in her heart that adds that she wants more than a friendship from him. 

But she can’t risk sounding ridiculous or getting ahead of herself before the race even starts, so she leaves her statement at that; just a statement and not a wish. 

“Well, you’re quite cute friends, then.” Doctor Tharp says. She can tell that what she had said had made (Y/N) uncomfortable. 

Too far. 

It takes (Y/N) all of ten minutes to get stitched up before Doctor Tharp pats her arm with a smile and tells her that she’ll have the papers for proper care at the front desk. 

“You take care. Of yourself and your heart,” the older woman says and (Y/N) knows that she should find some wisdom in her words, but they almost sound like a sort of doomed prophecy. 

Whatever, she thinks. She’s just excited to get home and to sleep in the comfort of her own bed. 

“Bradley,” (Y/N) whispers, shaking his bicep to get him to stir. He’s like a lump on a log, soft snores coming from his mouth and his head thrown back. His arms have crossed themselves over each other and made a home on his chest to replace the space (Y/N) had taken up before she moved. 

“Bradley!” (Y/N) shakes him again. 

He still sits asleep; completely dead to the world. 

(Y/N) twists his nipple through his shirt and bingo. He wakes up with a scream and shoots daggers at her with his glassy eyes. 

“M’all stitched up. We can go now,” she says and they exit the stall and make their way to the front desk where the charge nurse goes over how to properly clean her stitches and that she’d need to be back at the hospital in a week to get them removed. 

She gives the charge nurse a weak smile and her and Bradley walk back outside to his parked Bronco; the ocean breeze making the night sky chilly and (Y/N) shivers. He notices as he opens the passenger door to let her in. 

He rounds his way to the front and locks the doors before sliding into his seat. 

“Cold?” he questions and she gives him a slight nod. 

He purses his lips before turning the key in the ignition and starting the car. His hand instantly finds the heat dial and turns it up and they pull out of the parking lot. 

“Penny’s house. Right?” he breaks the silence again and (Y/N) nods, leaning her head on his window. 

The fifteen-minute ride from the hospital to Penny’s driveway is quick; the stillness of the night comfortable and washing them in warmth. 

His Bronco is parked in the driveway before (Y/N) turns to him again. 

“Before I go, I have to ask one more favor,” she says and Bradley raises his eyebrows in amusement. 

“Not gonna ask me to donate a kidney to you or something like that. Right?” he jokes and she playfully rolls her eyes at him. 

“No, you dinky dink. I just need you to rip my hospital bracelet off. They put it on my right hand and I can’t use my left to cut it off.” 

Bradley reaches over and takes her hand without hesitation and pulls at the plastic band wrapped around her wrist. 

“Thank you,” she sheepishly praises, “Thank you for everything. I could never owe you enough.” 

Rooster grins, all the anguish of the day forgotten with the dopey-eyed grin he gives her. 

He doesn’t say anything. He just holds her palm in his hand; the action muscle memory and leans forward; their forehead resting against each others. 

Her breath hitches in her throat because she swears to God if he doesn’t kiss her tonight she might rip out her stitches with her teeth and jump off of Penny’s goddamn roof. 

“Please,” (Y/N) whimpers and she didn’t mean for her request to be said out loud. 

Thankfully, Bradley ignores her words. She doesn’t know how she would live down the embarrassment of that one if he did manage to bring it up just then. 

He presses their lips together. His lips are plush and soft; the right amount of dry and moist. They move in sync with hers, molding together like the perfect puzzle. His kiss is deep but gentle, all-consuming but allowing her space if she wanted it. He kisses her once. Twice. Three times. And then he pulls away, his hand still on her cheek as he licks his slips subtly. 

She’s certain Bradley Bradshaw needs to add “perfect kisser” to his resume if he hasn’t already. 

“Didn’t take you as a beggar, chick,” he says, and fuck, there it is. That smart alecky remark she was waiting for. 

“If that’s the case, I’ll go inside and not give you my number,” she teases and Bradley feigns a gasp. 

“You wouldn’t. Don’t leave me out to dry now. Your blood was all over my shirt at some point. Too late to turn back now.” 

She gives him a toothy smile; one that’s reserved for her happiest and flirtiest moments. 

(Y/N)’s grabbing a napkin from the middle counsel of his car and a pen from his cupholder. She scribbles her phone number down on the napkin with a cute, “Text me! :)” written after it. 

She gets out of the Bronco and shuts the door, damn near running inside and waving at Bradley through the window of the living room where she can see his car in view. 

Bradley just shakes his head and smiles with glee. 

vii. 

One thing Natasha Trace was proud of was how well she could read people. 

Any boyfriends her sisters ever brought home didn’t have to get the stamp of approval from her father. Oh no, they had to get the stamp of approval from her. 

And she had always been right. She knew the ones who lied about their jobs or the ones who were chronic cheaters (because they had done it so much they were pros at hiding it, just not from Natasha) or the ones who were just downright fucking nuts. 

So if she can read people she had barely spent ten minutes with and could draw up a pretty good judgment of character, she knew that her analysis of people she knew well was never wrong. 

When Bradley Bradshaw, her right-hand man and one of her best friends, pulls up to her government-supplied housing in his Bronco at 5:25 the morning after his huge blowup at Hangman, she knew something was off. 

He didn’t have that shitty cassette mixed tape playing like he usually does and he’s basically inhaling a peach-flavored Red Bull. The thing about Bradley and energy drinks was that Bradley never drank them unless he was about dead from exhaustion. 

And from their text exchange last night, he was home at 8 PM and had all the intentions of going to bed soon. 

And well shit, that was apparent to be a lie. 

He’s uncharacteristically quiet. Rooster wasn’t a morning person but once he was awake, he was awake and was always ready to chat which drove Phoenix absolutely crazy, but the silence they’re sitting in on their way to base is deafening. She knows something is up, yet she can’t quite put her finger on it. 

“Good sleep?” she asks, testing the waters to see if Bradley would lie to her.

He curves his pointer finger and rubs it against the tip of his nose. This bastard was about to lie to her. 

She can feel it. 

“Great, actually,” he says with no delay so she knows that he’s not telling the truth. 

Phoenix knows that Rooster doesn’t do well with confrontation. He’s a born people-pleaser and anything that wasn’t able to be handled maturely made him want to get up and flee. She’d save calling him out for later.

Besides, they had bigger shit to worry about for the time being; one of those being the fact that they’re being sent on a suicide mission in three weeks. 

Natasha turns her body to the side of the car and looks out the window until something catches her eye. She turns to look at Bradley and sees that his eyes are cemented on the road. She bends down to pick it up swiftly; her movements so fast and contained that from Bradley’s peripheral vision, it just looked like she moved a little bit to get comfortable. 

It’s a fucking hospital bracelet and as she turns it around to read what’s on it, she sees a name she doesn’t recognize and her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull when she sees the birth year. 

The year starts with a 20 and she feels sick to her stomach. 

There’s no way Rooster had a little girl in here. There’s no way that that’s the reason he’s acting so weird. There can’t be. 

And then she starts counting the current year from the year on the bracelet, and then it clicks that, “Oh shit, this chick isn’t underaged.” 

She’s just young, and math has never been Natasha’s strong suit. 

She audibly exhales which makes Bradley turn his head to look at her and she stuffs the bracelet underneath her thigh before snaking it down to her pocket. 

“You okay?” he asks and Natasha eagerly nods. 

“Yeah, just a little jittery,” she answers and Bradley nods in agreeance. 

He brings his Red Bull back up to his lips before taking a swig and placing it back down in the cup holder. 

“Me too.” 

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #top gun #top gun maverick #miles teller #mt #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw fanfic #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw fic #writes #rooster

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 31st. New Year's Sex. "Sugar To Ring In The New Year." Stu Macher X AFAB! Reader.

Here we are! The end of Kinky December's do over! I am very proud of myself for committing and sticking to this! I hope everyone enjoyed it! This is reminding me of that follow-up piece I have in the works for this, and here is hoping it pushes me to actually finish it! I hope you all have a great December a happy holiday season and of course, a lovely new year. Now let's all sink back into this older/Sugar Daddy Stu Macher AU.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 4.2K Warnings. Established Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby Relationship. Age Gap. Public Sex. Dirty Talk. Sex Toys. General Daddy Kink. Remote Control Vibrator. Pet Names. Praise. Dirty Talk. Mild Temperature Play. Mentions Of Kidnapping, Knife play, Bloodplay, Ropeplay and Poly!Ghostface. We Respect Sex Workers Of All Kinds In This House. If You Don’t? Get Out.

–

You had spent such a long time getting ready for tonight.

But it was so very worth it. Rather, he was so very worth it. 

You looked yourself over in the full length mirror. You looked fucking incredible. Turning slowly, admiring yourself, he had picked your outfit for tonight, paid for it himself and whatever else you needed. He told you money was no object, and it certainly never seemed to be with him. 

See, it was New Year's Eve and you had a party to attend. A very nice party, probably nicer than any you had ever been to. 

A ding from your phone, you picked it up off the nearby table. He was here. You shrugged on your coat and gave yourself one last look before grabbing your bag and heading out the door. Door locked and now in the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor with a manicured finger. Humming lightly to yourself, looking your nails over as you descended. 

To say you were excited was an understatement. You loved getting to see him and the holidays were crazy with his line of work, you didn’t see him nearly as much as you’d have liked this past month. Soon the elevator doors slid open and out you stepped, heels clacking over the polished tiles of the lobby of the apartment building you lived in. 

You stepped out into the cold evening air of downtown, smile crossing your painted lips to see him waiting for you, leaning against the town car hands in his coat pockets, grin widening when he saw you. 

“Hey.” You called to him with a coy smile, he held a hand up signalling you to stop, you did, a few feet in front of him. 

Next he signalled you to turn to show him the whole look, and you of course obliged. Hands in your jacket pockets, holding your coat open as you did so, letting him drink in the sight of you, a low whistle as he did so. When you were sure he was satisfied you closed the space between the two of you, hands out of your pockets now, reaching out and taking hold of the scarf he had on, hanging loosely over his jacket. 

“I reiterate. Hey.” He held up one finger signalling, further still, you to wait as he said- “Hang on just a second-”

One of his hands coming up and finding the back of your neck, and he pulled you closer to him, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss. You gripped his scarf and tugged him closer, a soft hum from you. He broke the kiss and, still so close to you, he said softly, “Hey.”

That drew a small laugh from both of you, and then you let go of him, taking a step back, and he opened the door for you as you teased him, “Was that really necessary?”

Stu told you in a very serious tone of voice, hands gripping the top of the car door, “Yes. It was important.”

When you laughed, it made a grin spread over his face. Adorable.

You leaned over the door separating the two of you and pressed another kiss to his mouth before getting into the car. Soon he was beside you and you were off. Your hand in his and talking casually, catching up, it had been too long. 

You were recounting something funny that happened the other day at a gift exchange with friends when you caught him staring at you, and you stopped, asking in that usual playful tone when you were with him,“What? Something off with my make-up?”

“No, no, far from it. You look amazing tonight.” Well, that was nice to hear, you certainly hoped so. He picked it all out after all. You thanked him, of course. The drive passed by quickly. Soon you were being ushered inside, coats checked, and walking into the main room with him, his hand on your lower back as he led you to your table. 

“Oh, we get a table?” You joked, and he pulled your chair out with a scoff, “Of course we do, baby. Look at who you’re with.“ The overexaggerated gesture to himself when he said that made you snicker. 

Of course, how foolish, naturally you get to have an actual table. He took his place next to you and had ordered you drinks in the next minute. You really enjoyed these dates out to events like this pertaining to his work, he was so in his element, different from how he was when he was totally alone with you. Conversation always flowed so easily with him, and you enjoyed yourself immensely.

Drinks were brought, and he held his glass up to you, that same smile you loved so much, you held up yours as well as you asked, “And what are we toasting to?”

“Hmm, how about to me having the absolute finest date here?” How could you say no to that? You smirked as you offered up,“So it’s to both of us, really.”

“Exactly! Always so smart, baby. To us.” Glasses clinked, and you were still mid-sip when he asked it,“So are you wearing it?”

You glanced at him, he was looking at you, pose relaxed, one elbow on the table, glass held loosely in his hand, fuck, he looked good. 

We should talk about the nature of your relationship with Stu Macher. It might be obvious to someone else looking at you two. He was significantly older than you, professional, established, very well-to-do. You were the pretty young thing, always dressed to impress and on his arm for all the events you were allowed to attend. 

The nature of your relationship was very clear, it started off a bit more business like, but it quickly evolved into more than just that. 

“Why Mr.Macher! I have no idea to what you are referring.” You couldn’t hold back your smile, leaning forward on your elbows, fingers laced together and tucked under your chin, a faux innocent batting of your eyelashes, and he gave you a look. 

“Baby.” That delicious tone. More serious. You gave in with a wider smile and said, “Yes, I am.”

“Good. If you didn’t admit it, I was going to have to test it already.” Your thighs pressed together under the table, you knew he was going to use it at some point, there would be no reason for you to wear it if he had no intention of using it. 

Some coworker of his came over and took some of his and took his attention, you sat next to him, patiently waiting, you were very used to this. It was more appropriate to say colleague you supposed, but ultimately it didn’t matter. Fingers on the rim of your glass as you look around the well decorated room and the well-dressed people. You contemplated getting some food in a minute, surprisingly hungry, but your thoughts were interrupted, a hitch in your breath as you felt it.

Your eyes flicking to Stu, you saw it, he had his phone pulled out, semi-hidden under the table, next to his thigh, you were sure he knew you could see it. He was still looking up to his co-worker, engaged in their conversation, but you saw the open app on his phone and there was no mistaking it.

In case it wasn’t obvious enough by this point. Stu Macher was your sugar Daddy. And he had some particular tastes. Taste and appetites that you helped him satisfy. That is how your arrangement initially began, but it had grown into more, you were much closer, however he still insisted on spoiling you, buying you things, paying for your rent and giving you an allowance. He seemingly got off on providing for you, and who doesn’t love to be spoiled by someone so attentive? You weren’t going to say no. It would be cruel to deny him that, frankly. 

To be perfectly fair, if you had met him in some other circumstances, you were certain you would have pursued him. He was nice and sweet, so fucking handsome, funny, there was so much more to him than what he could provide financially. 

Things were good.

So what about tonight? And what was going on right now? Stu loved getting up to all kinds of filthy things with you. One of his favourites was doing things in public spaces with the risk of getting caught. He had sent the bags over earlier with your outfit for tonight. Along with the dress and make-up and accessories and shoes, he provided the lingerie for you to wear under your dress, and the panties were very important. You recalled that text he sent you that afternoon and the instructions. You followed them to the letter. The panties had this perfect little pocket in them to slip in a remote control vibe. The one he was controlling on the app on his phone right now. While you were less than two feet from his coworker. 

You swallowed hard and gripped your glass, attempting to breathe evenly, managing to quell the moan attempting to break free. He didn’t make it easy. Your eyes peeked at his phone and watched as he manipulated the controls with one hand, increasing and decreasing the vibration. You were thankful for the loud overall party atmosphere covering up the sound of it. 

A bite of your bottom lip, eyes breaking away, focusing on the table in front of you, trying to take deep breaths and mercifully it stopped. You let out a sigh and looked over to Stu who was looking at you with a grin, his coworker gone His hand fell to your knee, and he squeezed as he praised, “Good job. You didn’t give yourself away at all.”

“Thank you.” You took a sip and felt a bit of pride, until he said, “Guess I’ll just have to try harder.”

Fuck.

You sighed again and took a healthy swallow from your glass.

Really, by now you should be used to this. You had prepared yourself for the fact he’d want to use it in public because I mean of course he would, however you should have also been ready for the fact that he would make it as difficult as possible on you. 

That reminded you to ask. “So where’s Billy tonight?”

He squeezed your knee again before letting go and picking up his glass again as he responded, “A different party. Shame he couldn’t come, but he had his own thing and I could only bring one guest with me.”

Makes sense. They were in different lines of work, after all. It had been a while since you last got to see him. That was another interesting angle to this arrangement. So you had met Stu with the understanding of your arrangement, the initial process went great, you seemed compatible. Multiple dates, he paid for all and spoiled you, and of fucking course the sex was incredible. A little ways into it, you remembered him sitting you down and bringing forth the idea of it, that he had a friend, his best friend, they were very close, he loved to share and wanted to share you with him. 

You were open to it and met him, and we're so thankful that you did. He was equally attractive, a good job, not exactly as high profile as Stu’s, but he seemed more than comfortable. One of the things you liked best was how Stu acted around him, more relaxed, you found out they went way, way back and seeing the other side of Stu? Amazing. Made you like him a lot more, might have made you fall for him a little sooner. 

Turns out sex with Billy was pretty fucking great too. You remember the first full weekend away with them to really test the dynamic, and it was unreasonably fun. Hot, boundary pushing. They had to be sure about you before trying out what they really wanted. A rented house and a complex role play. It was all discussed beforehand, limits, safe words, signals, the whole nine. You pretend to stay there alone. A phone call, they ‘break in’, there were costumes and ropes and knives and fucking Christ why did you like it so much? 

The memories of that weekend were some of your favourites.

It couldn’t have gone better and yep they wanted to ‘keep you’ and you wanted that too more than anything. Basically, the whole time you saw Stu, you only saw him. Not like you needed to see anyone else, he more than took care of your monetary needs, emotional and sexual needs being satisfied by him were a give in. Now add Billy as a regular guest in your life and you were fucking set. 

You smiled as you teased him, keeping it light as ever, you were sure with whatever he had in mind the mood wouldn’t stay that way forever, “And you decided to bring me? I’m so flattered.”

He scoffed with a smile, obviously he was going to bring you, he felt no need to say it though, so instead he said, “Finish your drink.”

“That an order, Stu?” You asked as you picked up your glass and as you started to drink, eyes falling closed as you did and what happened next almost made you choke, while you were distracted for that moment he turned the vibe back on. 

His phone was out on the table, and he had flicked it back on easily. You managed to swallow your mouthful and threw a look at him, he had finished his own drink now, staring you down. You wanted to ask ‘what the fuck?’ but he spoke first, “Why are you calling me that?”

You watched as his fingers lingered on his phone screen, turning it up slowly, and you swallowed your moan, one of your hands was gripping the cloth napkin in front of your place setting. Forcing yourself to respond, “Because we are in public. At a work event. It’s yo-o-our rule.”

You almost broke but managed to hold strong even as he nudged it higher still, you almost wanted to shake, pleasure simmering low inside of you. 

“Hmm, it’s a special occasion. Indulge me.” He was leaning much closer to you, face inches from yours, you wanted to kiss him, a bite of your bottom lip, and you whispered it, low enough just for him to hear, indulging him just as he wanted, “Of course, Daddy.”

You actually pulsed when you said it. Not just because of him still having the toy turned up, but from breaking this previous hard and fast rule of his, saying this in public at a work event. That smile alone made it worth it. The kiss he gave you afterwards, forget about it. 

The rest of the night was too fun. More drinks, amazing food, and he kept teasing you on and off. The range on that thing was unreal. 

At one point you were coming back from the bathroom, and once you were in his line of sight, he turned it on and watched you almost stumble on your way back to the table. He was still laughing a little when you hit him playfully on the shoulder and mouthed ‘stop!’ he, of course, did not. 

Picking the worst times, when you were in the middle of eating or drinking, at one point when you were dancing. You thanked God he was right there, it went from fully off to full tilt, and you would have dropped were it not for him holding you up. 

Eventually you ran into a friend you knew from sugaring. Both you and her standing near the table, casual conversation, it was nice, you hadn’t seen her in a while, “So you here with-?”

Unlike you having just Stu she had a few regulars in rotation, you offered it up, question open-ended, and she rolled her eyes as she started,“Dickhead. I mean-”

Covering her mouth with her hand with a laugh that you joined in on before both saying, “Dickinson.”

She had told you about him. While he paid great money, he kinda sucked. 

“Why’d you agree? I know you have other options, why spend New Years with that-”

You were caught off guard. Not expecting it at all, you nearly dropped your drink and couldn’t stifle the moan this time, you managed to quiet it but not completely. You took a deep breath and looked around, trying to find where he was, nowhere in sight, your friend reached out, hand on your shoulder, “Jesus, you good? What’s wrong?”

You swallowed hard and looked over at her, trying to keep your breathing steady, “Fuck it. So-”

And you filled her in, telling her all about what was going on and the naughty secret you had currently concealed in your panties and the game he was playing with you. 

“Ugh, see, you are so lucky! He’s so good to you, so playful, he always has fun shit for you two to do together.”

It was fun. Even as you were struggling standing here, he never settled on one pattern or strength for long, constantly mixing it up, not letting you adjust at any point. You understood her jealousy, I mean if you didn’t have him and had to watch someone else parade around with him, you were certain that you could feel similar. 

Finally, the pleasure ceased as the toy turned off, you were so wet by this point you could feel it on your thighs, thank God for the length of the dress he chose. 

You looked at your friend who seemed to be looking behind you, big smile, you felt him before seeing him, his hand on your lower back, he knew your friend obviously and greeted her, “Hello. Keeping her company for me?”

“Of course Mr.Macher. Great suit tonight, by the way.”

You didn’t mind if your friend flirted with him and you kind of like when he would flirt back, he didn’t do it super overtly, but he did compliment her in kind, she looked great herself, before he asked, “Thank you so much, do mind if I steal her?”

“By all means. See you later.” Then he was leading you away from the party and down one of the hallways lined with office doors, not fully lit up since no one was working. Hand in hand as he asked, “I’ve never actually showed you my office, have I?”

Surprisingly, he had not. You shook your head, and he stopped in front of one of the doors before pushing it open, “A damn shame, truly. C’mon.”

You jumped at the chance. You knew how to behave at one of these events, but you were desperate by this point. Aching with need. You wanted him intensely, he was too good at arousing you. The light touches and teasing, the things he whispered to you tonight when no one was in earshot, and of course using that damn vibe on you. 

You would have been more impressed with his office if you weren’t so preoccupied. You walked around slowly, you had your mind on one thing, that big beautiful desk. Certain, you were going to get bent over the side of it and thrown down on top of it. You turned to see where he was, and he was on you, hands on your waist, and you were backed up into that desk, sat on top of it. Far enough away from the party, you allowed yourself to let go, moaning against his mouth. “You did so good in there, baby.”

“Mmf thank you.” Your hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer, his hands on either side of you on the top of his desk, you couldn’t help yourself now that you had him alone, kissing him so passionately. 

He pulled away too soon and took a step back, discarding his jacket, throwing it over the desk, rolling his sleeves up as he said, “Pull that dress up. Let me see.”

You obliged all too quickly. Jesus, he looked so good. Hands scrambling to pull your dress up, hands in the folds of the fabric, hiking it up your legs, eventually hands on the hem you held it up, legs spread.  One of his hands on your inner thighs as he looked, “Fuck, baby. You’re soaked.”

A nod, hips pushing out a little further, wanting his hand higher, wishing he would touch you. His fingers brushed over you and your head fell back with a moan, “Need it badly, hmm?”

You responded quickly, breathy, “Ye-yes Daddy Please?”

Then both of his hands were on you, hauling you up onto your heels. “Keep holding your dress for me, baby.”

You could only nod, and you expected to be forced over the desk, but no, that’d be too easy, instead you were pulled over to the window. He was right behind you, he took your hands and pressed them flat to the glass and whispered in your ear, “Nice view, isn’t it?”

You looked out the window and it certainly was. Downtown, late at night, high up, what floor was this? You wondered what he was getting up to, hands on the straps of your dress, sliding them down off your shoulders, what he wanted was made clear, and your breath hitched as he said it, “Think anyone could see us up here?”

He noticed how it affected your breathing, his mouth ghosted over the side of your throat, and he chuckled before saying, “Oh, I think you like that idea.”

Hands trailed down your arms and sides and then his fingers found your panties and slid them down, you let them pool at your feet, and he encouraged you to step out of them, he kicked them aside. One hand sliding down your stomach, your hands twisting in the fabric of your skirt and soon his hand was between your thighs, strong fingers dragging through your folds and you moaned. 

“Do you want something to see you like this?”

His fingers circled your clit and his opposite hand tugged down your dress further, bunched around your waist, straps still on, holding your arms to your sides, hands still on the glass. You were sure you were fogging up the glass, but who fucking cares when he makes you feel like this.

“Well, since you indulged me earlier, then allow me to do the same.” Then he pressed you forward, you almost yelped, it was winter, the glass was freezing, he let out a small laugh from your reaction, “Cold?”

“Very! Fuck-” You pushed and tried to back up, but he kept you pressed there, he tsk’d before saying, “Now, now baby. If you want it-”

He rubbed your clit harder, and you squirmed against him,“-and I think you do. Then you are going to stay right here. Understood?”

You relented, he eased off, only to dispose of his pants, you listened to the jingle of his belt, and soon he was back on you. One hand on your shoulder and one hand under your thigh, adjusting your leg just so, and soon you were blessed with the feeling of him splitting you open. The stretch was wonderful, you moaned long and low, forehead pressed to the glass. He only held in you for a moment before he began moving, and it practically already had you panting. 

“Filthy. This how you like to celebrate? Getting fucked out in the open? Praying someone sees you?”

All you could do was moan out yes, over and over, in time with how he fucked you. The thought, how he spoke to you and of course again, how fucking wonderful it felt. 

“I loved watching you struggle. Trying to act normal and proper, you did so fucking good for me, baby. So proud of you.”

This is the best. Treating you like this, taking you like this, so open and rough and possessive while still lavishing praise over you. Pushing back onto him, completely lost in it, hardly registering what he was saying, but you caught bits and pieces, like this next part-“I’ll try not to mess you up too bad. No promises though. Still have to go back out there-”

That is what did you in. The thought of having to go back out there. Acting normal, like you didn’t just get fucked against his office window like a whore, trying to look and act every part of the prim little arm candy his office had gotten to know while his cum leaked down your thighs under your dress. That is the thought that finally made you cum, thankful he had you pinned to the window, or you would be on the floor. Breathing so hard on your come down, he paused, buried all the way inside, a harsh grind as he whispered in your ear, “Happy New Years, baby.”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh as you replied, still breathless, “Happy New Years, Daddy.”

What a way to ring in the New Year.

#Stu Macher x reader #slasher x reader #Ghostface x reader #MWAH #Do-Over-December #BHF writing #I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did!

[stevethehairington]

okay so. overall review:

actually not as bad as i expected it to be! and not as bad as i thought it was going to turn out while i was in the trenches there lol. i still wished it focused a little more on eddie's home life/relationship with his dad and uncle AND his friends, and had way less of the romance stuff (read: none), BUT i will admit that there ended up being a lot less of the romance stuff than i initially expected and a lot less than it seemed like there would be while still in the middle of the book.

the paige stuff still made me uncomfy bc i didn't like the power dynamics there (paige had something eddie wanted desperately, and i don't like the idea that that could have had something to do with his "feelings" for her/why he engaged with them ((esp bc let's be real — he didn't seem super torn up over not getting to be with her in the end)) or that she used that to her advantage bc there was ALSO something in it for her) BUT i will say they did make it slightly less skeezy than i expected bc she was only a couple years older than him instead of like. significantly older like i expected.

i do wish there was more about eddie's friends and their fallout and reconciliation. his friends were super important to him and he just. dropped them. like that. and there was BARELY any blowback. like yeah there was a fight with ronnie, but we never actually got to see the reactions of any of the other hellfire/corroded coffin guys, and i would've liked to see that. same with the reconciliation, it felt very minimal — i would've liked to see more of how that played out too.

I LOVED EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN SECOND OF WAYNE MUNSON CONTENT, THAT MAN IS A GIFT HE IS AN ANGEL I ADORE HIM WITH EVERYTHING IN ME. IF THERE IS ONE THING THIS BOOK HAS DONE IT HAS SOLIDIFIED MY STANCE THAT WAYNE MUNSON IS THE BEST GOD DAMN CHARACTER AND I WOULD DIE FOR HIM.

as for eddie — i think the author did an alright job finding his voice. there were times where i thought she really nailed it, but there were also A LOT of times where i thought "he would never say that!!" "he would never do that!!". it wasn't very consistent, but overall it wasn't awful and there were some good parts!

the other characters we know and love that made cameos — VERY fun to see them (gareth, chrissy, jason, hopper, will, jonathan!!!) gareth was ESPECIALLY fun to see because they really embraced that feral chihuahua boy energy we love to assign to him. BUT. i am SO incredibly upset with how badly they massacred my boy tommy h (whOSE LAST NAME THEY COULDNT EVEN GET RIGHT I MEAN W H A T!?) they fucking. got his characterization SO BAD. it was awful. i am. personally offended by it (joking, mostly rhsjsi). (as a tommy lover i am. devastated tho. HE WOULD NOT DO THAT!!!)

OH ALSO — reefer rick. WHAT a fun dude. hes out here in his robe and bunny slippers drinking darjeeling tea, living it up. what a guy.

id like to give a huge FUCK YOU to principal higgins too! they made that dude a straight up MONSTER. he was unnecessarily CRUEL and some of the things he said straight up to eddies face,,,,,,, sir what the FUCK. i know the 80s was a different time but jesus fucking cHRIST was casual cruelty and bullying from grown ass ADULTS commonplace? i sure hope not.

ALSO FUCK AL MUNSON LIVES ALL MY HOMIES HATE AL MUNSON LIVES. that man was AWFUL, TRULY HONESTLY GENUINELY THE WORST. neglectful and cruel and downright AWFUL. NOT ONLY DID HE CONSISTENTLY ABANDON EDDIE THROUGHOUT HIS LIFE BUT THEN HE DREW EDDIE INTO HIS SCHEMES, CONNED HIM, FUCKED UP REAL BIG, AND THEN LEFT EDDIE IN THE ASHES OF THEIR — OF HIS — HOME AS THE ONLY PERSON LEFT WITH THE COP WHO GOT SHOT AND IS LIKE SLOWLY BLEEDING OUT. TALK ABOUT FUCKING TRAUMA WHAT THE FUCK. i hope he got flayed ALIVE by charlie greene lmao it would serve him right that absolute twat waffle.

also, im gonna be real. the end of that book was actually INSANELY depressing. like, it tried to be positive because you gotta end on a positive note right? but it just fell. COMPLETELY flat. bc we all know what happens to eddie in canon. he's sitting there reenrolling in school, peacoking around about how he's GOING to finish high school and he's GOING to graduate and he's GOING to show principal higgins that he CAN do it and that he ISNT the fuckup deliquent he's convinced he is. BUT WE ALL KNOW HE DOESNT FUCKING GET THAT IN CANON. he's taking waynes advice and fully embracing who he is and he's learning to be comfortable in his own skin and to rise above all the noise of people who don't like him and think he's a freak. ONLY WE KNOW HE NEVER TRULY GETS TO DO THAT EITHER BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW HOW IT ENDS IN CANON. so yeah it just ends up being a REALLY fucking BLEAK ending because all of that "positivity" is absolutely tainted. it's fucking soured. and i am once again INSANELY INFURIATED about eddies death. so fuck the duffers, again.

also, eddie munson literally never caught a fucking break. not one fucking break. his ENTIRE life was just one series of tragedies after the other and it truly just continued on that way until he fucking died. honestly, its a goddamn MIRACLE that he has ANY ounce of positivity and optimism and hope left in his life when we get to him in s4. thatd how utter dogshit a hand he has been dealt in life. and it only.got worse from there. and i will NEVER forgive ANYONE involved in his creation for that.

so yeah! that concludes my journey reading flight of icarus. it was a wild ride lol.

#flight of icarus #flight of icarus spoilers #eddie munson #stranger things #mack reacts

[rootbeerworshiper]

Normal (part 6)

pairing: fem! character + matt sturniolo

summery: Abigail and Matt have been best friends for years and practically grew up together. the two hiding their feelings for one another, until one stupid drunken dare changes things.

warnings: swearing, a lil bit suggestive

i’m forcing myself to finish this bc i always start fics and abandon them but if you like the story or have ideas for it pls dm me or put it in my asks🙏

this chapter is mostly based on this song! ^^^

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5

love, sienna <3

matt pov!

i sit at the kitchen island, fidgeting with my fingers.

why was this so hard?

i know it’s the better thing to do, to go back to normal. i need more distance from Abigail before i literally go insane. she’s all i think about and it’s extremely unhealthy.

Chris says that it’s normal, that this is how it is with every girl you like, but everything she does is attractive. she’s literally perfect and all i can do is hope she’ll see the same in me one day, although i know it’s incredibly unlikely.

i mean what i said in the hot tub, i wish i had kissed her that night. things could’ve been different if i just gone through with it.

i was so close to bridging the gap between best friends and lovers but i gave up.

i gave up and had to watch her go through other relationships, wishing it was me she was gushing over.

i’m not ignorant though. i know that this is my own fault. another thing Chris mentions constantly.

if i would just tell her how i feel this whole thing would be different. and he’s right, it would be. she could not feel the same and it would make things awkward, and it may never go back to normal.

so i’m okay not telling her how i feel if it means avoiding losing her, because without Abigail i am not myself.

“Matt bro snap out of it” Chris says, slapping me on the back of the head as i exit my overwhelming thoughts.

i furrow my eyebrows and bring my hand to the spot of my head that’s now throbbing. “bro what the fuck do you want? i think you forgot the headache i told you about”

he motions towards the empty stool “where did Abi go? i was gonna see if she wanted to play duos with me”

right. i shrug “i don’t know she said she should get going and she just left”

“what the fuck did you do?” he asks in an accusatory tone that makes me shift in the stool.

“why is it always me? Abi makes her own choices she’s a grown adult” i say louder than i’d like to admit.

“grow up Matt you and i both know something happened last night don’t lie to me”

i throw my head back in annoyance, i really was not in the mood to share this information with anyone, especially not now, not after she left.

i’m not really entirely sure what to say, but i can feel my heartbeat increase at the thought of Abigail last night, how she sounded saying my name.

she has an effect on me that no girl ever did, and i hate myself for it.

“did you tell her how you feel?” he asks again, i know he won’t let this go.

“kind of?” i bite my nails, although i know that if Abigail were here my hand wouldn’t be in my mouth because it would be holding hers.

her hands.

the way i shiver under their touch, the way they pull my hair, the way they-

“what happened Matt? i wanna know if she’s okay”

“okay um.” fuck this is not easy. “well we got drunk or whatever and i guess i was feeling bold because i told her about the time in sophomore year where i was really close to kissing her”

Chris thinks “when you snuck out together?”

i nod. “she told me that if i had kissed her then that we’d be kissing now”

“oh shit”

“so uh she put her hand on my leg or whatever and we uh-“

“Matt i don’t want details, she is basically my sister” he groans, now sitting next me, where Abigail was moments prior.

“right sorry. well uh we finished or whatever and walked home and then she told me something”

he groans again, his hands coming up to his forehead as he speaks “dude you suck at telling stories this is painful”

“okay okay uh she told me that alcohol was really hitting her and that like if we were sober then that night probably wouldn’t of ever happened” Chris nods, expecting more.

“she basically told me she wouldn’t kiss me sober Chris what was i supposed to do? i cant just have drunk sex with my best friend and then never kiss her again” i hate the way i tear up, the effect she has on me continuously playing a role in my emotions.

“Chris i cant not kiss her again, i cant go back to looking at her lips and praying she doesn’t notice.” i run my hands through my hair “it’s not fair that she can do this to me”

“shit Matt” he says, clearing trying his best to gather his thoughts. “you’re in love. like actual love”

“thanks for your epiphany Chris i know this already” i sigh.

realizing i loved Abigail happened a long time ago, when her dad was yelling at her over something stupid when i was over to play Minecraft.

i realized in that moment that i would die for her, i would literally step in front of her and take anything her dad had to offer because i needed so desperately for her to be okay.

i realized in sophomore year, when we kissed for the first time. i needed her just like that forever, under my touch, looking into my eyes.

i realized when she had sex with someone else. i wanted to be her first everything, and the loss of that killed me. someone else saw her in a way i couldn’t stop thinking about.

and i realized in the hot tub, looking at her watching the stars peacefully like she always has.

i’m in love with Abigail and there’s nothing i can do about it, i missed my chance.

i missed the one opportunity i had when she liked me back.

“Matt you’re stupid” i furrow my eyebrows. “she didn’t say she wouldn’t kiss you sober, she was saying that neither of you would’ve ever been bold enough to try kissing each other sober, let alone what else you did”

i think for a second, technically, he has a point, but i’m not sure if changes anything. “what difference does it make?”

before i can speak again Chris interrupts “it means she wanted to kiss you dumbass”

she wanted to kiss me while we were drunk and horny and in a hot tub. none of this means she actually feels the same for me as i feel for her. none of this proves anything. “whatever Chris, it doesn’t mean that she’s actually into me, she wanted sex, that’s completely different”

“kid i cant with you” he sighs. “whatever, if she does just want sex, it means she wants it with you, her best friend, someone she loves. is that not a step to the direction that you’re in?”

he’s not entirely wrong, but once again it doesn’t make me feel better. “i already told her i wanna go back to normal, back to being best friends. maybe it’s better that way maybe if i distance myself enough i can get over her or-“

“be so for real Matt you are not getting over her anytime soon, you’ve practically loved her as long as you’ve known her what are the chances that’s gonna go away? especially after what happened last night”

i hate when Chris is right. “so i’m just hopeless then?” i ask, feeling completely out of options.

“hopeless until you tell her how you feel like a human being would” he rubs his forehead. “you know Abigail better than anyone, what are the chances she’s going to throwaway a lifelong friendship over this?”

“yeah whatever i don’t know, i’ll think on it more when we’re back in Somerville” i just go on my phone, so as to signal the end of this very unfortunate conversation.

god maybe it’s time to put my $25 journal to use.

i go about the rest of the day as normal, as if nothing is wrong, although the guilt of how i treated Abigail has started to sink in.

why did she look so sad about going back to normal? is that not what she wanted?

i cant be delusional about this, i had a phase once where i thought she felt the same about me in senior year but then she went and got a boyfriend and i realized how stupid i was.

i watched her in the hallway with some guy i don’t think she gave two shits about, her arms wrapped around his neck with a smile plastered on her face.

but i know Abigail, and i know the smile wasn’t real, i just wish it was me she had her arms wrapped around. someone she cared about.

i probably should tell her how i feel, that would be the rational thing to do. to rip the bandaid and get it over with. but i just told her i want to go back to normal, back to friends that don’t have drunk sex.

“Matt you good?” Nick asks as i lay on my bed, thinking.

i sit up slightly to face him. “yeah i’m okay why?”

“we have to leave for the airport in like 20 minutes and you haven’t packed yet” right. Boston.

“shit yeah i’ll do that now, are you just gonna order an uber?” he nods and walks off after another moment of small conversation.

i think going home will be good, it’ll give me a chance to breathe and remind myself how this whole thing started.

after throwing together a suitcase full of clothes and a carry on, i look at myself once more in the mirror.

it’s always weird to see a grown version of myself, i mean it’s still me, but i still feel so much younger. i still have the same stuffed animals, the same comfort shows, the same crush. sometimes i don’t recognize the person that looks back at me in the mirror.

i shake my head and take a deep breath. i have no reason to be anxious going back home, there i get to see my family and Nate, but i’ll also see Abigail everywhere i look.

i’ll see her on my bed, teaching me the handshake she wanted to do with me so desperately.

i’ll see her in the kitchen teaching Trevor a new trick because she insists he’s smarter than we let on.

i’ll see her in the backyard, on the swings we sat on when we needed to talk. where we’d look at the stars together as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Abigail Brown is one constant in my life.

she keeps me grounded, and ironically, she also causes me a lot of my stress.

but it’s not her fault, and it never will be.

we make it to the airport and do all the usual things, getting bags checked and eventually boarding the plane.

i don’t say a lot, and Chris and Nick don’t seem to mind as they go off on random tangents, i’m just grateful to have the window seat.

i quickly begin to fall asleep with the playlist that Abigail made for me playing softly in the background of my headphones.

just as i’m about to doze off, i pay more attention to a song she added more recently. it’s not an artist i listen to so i never thought much of it.

Don't wanna be forward, don't wanna cross a line

But if I were to crash in this plane tonight, I'd want you to know this

Don't wanna say too much, Intrude on your space

But if I were to crash and I never made it home, I'd want you to know this

Oh, and to tell you is too scary, so I'll just say something else

And I wish that you could hear me, when I talk to myself

But this plane might not land safely

So, what the hell do I have to lose, If I just tell you?

I wanna eat pancakes for dinner, I wanna get stuck in your head

I wanna watch a T.V. show together and when we're under the weather we can watch it in bed

I wanna go out on the weekends, I wanna dress up just to get undressed

I think that I should probably tell you this, In case there is an accident and I never see you again

fuck.

taglist: @athaliahxoxo

a/n: okay i know this is so incredibly short but for the few avid normal readers i wanted to get this out bc it’s lowkey a little irrelevant ykwim🧍🏻‍♀️

#Spotify #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo edit #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt girl #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #lizzy mcalpine

[mimiatmidnight]

So, twelve hours post, here is my first round of thoughts:

I will never recover from all the baby clips. NEVER. RECOVER.

Doria is the classiest, most dignified person in history. That poor woman deserves a medal for what she endured so strongly.

The producers did such a fantastic job of weaving the love-storytelling in with the historical discussions and the present-day narrative. And MAN what a love story. I really thought I had a good sense of them before, but I feel so different now. I see them and their love in a new light. Which, hey, isn't that the exact point of this whole thing? So, mission accomplished. I am completely warmed and enchanted.

I especially feel I understand so much more about who they were before each other. I love how dedicated the producers were to establishing Meghan's pre-Harry personhood and just how much she lost to be with him. And I was so unspeakably moved by Harry's recounting of his relationship to the people of Lesotho and Botswana. How they took him in when he had no place he felt at home. How it fundamentally shifted his development into the man he would be become. Genuinely one of the most beautiful stories in the whole production.

Meghan is better than me because if I had to meet my future in-laws and there in my kitchen was Kate Middleton looking at me the way Kate Middleton looks at people, I would be on the next plane back to America. EXPEDITIOUSLY.

Also um can we take a sec to laugh at how Cambridge stans (esp those in the rota) are taking personal offense to Harry's cheeky but astute observation about his male relatives marrying for convenience rather than love? SO funny. I think he was very obviously talking about his parents, but hey if you wanna be like "This is so clearly about William and Kate" like . . . Ok mama, if the tiara fucking fits!!!!

Meghan is better at communicating the warm, gooey, happy parts of the story, and Harry is FAR better at communicating the serious, difficult, upsetting parts of the story -- the "shocking revelations," if you will. Meg is seemingly still struggling with this incredibly frustrating naivete surrounding their situation, and it does not come across the screen well to me. But that is a discussion for others to have, so that's all I'll say on that.

The Black historians and political commentators they brought on were absolutely critical to nailing that side of the story. Afua Hirsch was my very favorite.

I've already gotten at least one anon asking about my perspective on the addressing of Harry's SS costume. I appreciate the interest, but no. I am the granddaughter of a Holocaust survivor. My family and I have been discussing how to internalize and process Harry specifically, as well as people like him, for years now. And it's not something I'm willing to do over the internet with strangers. Sorry, but I hope you can understand.

Mandana's scene was so funny. She was like "Royal expert? You literally just made that up right now 🤨" LMAO

Ashleigh's appearance knocked me BACK omg. I'm so touched to see how they connected all those years ago, and I hope they have found a way to reconnect, away from all that sabotage.

As I posted just before, the way they are juuuuust planting the seeds for the Jason storyline to come . . . literal fucking chills.

I love that they know which photos of them are iconic. When the umbrella shot showed up I was like "Yeah they know that was history right there" 😌

Oh and showing them Meghan's old This or That interview, the producers are SO real for that kjgfhfdgfjgh

Please believe me when I tell you that I am not usually one to be all "Ohhhhh Diana ohhhhh she's looking down on them ohhhh this or that." Lol. But the clip of Archie reaching his little hand to her photo on the wall, and not to her face, which babies are neurologically wired to focus on, but to her hands. Yeah a bitch might just have teared up or whatever 🥲

I thought the whole thing was really well produced. So far, it's not the nuclear war all those panicking lil media experts were predicting. But my sense is that Volume I was very much an introduction to lay the groundwork for whatever we're about to go through in Volume II. And I cannot wait. For the time being, I am so over the moon to be granted this truly moving glimpse into what a beautiful life Harry and Meghan have built for themselves.

#meghan markle #prince harry

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 19

Hi friends!

Thanks for being patient with me -- I had one hell of a day yesterday and didn't get the Digest out when I usually do. It's short this week: only 10 fics (still not bad, considering, lmao). I read a 40 chapter fic this week that was about 400k words (rec'd below) and I was hooked (am hooked, I have like 5 chapters left). Apologies to all my moots whose fics I have ignored in favor of having my face buried in AO3 for a week, I'm catching up now!

As always you can find the Spreadsheet here and all of my previous fic recs here. Tag me in your fics if you want to be included in a future Digest :)

Recs below the Pedro in a v nice suit:

you can't trust anyone these days - a Joel/Tess one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

TW Noncon - read the warnings - I really thought this was such an interesting take on Raider!Joel. I don't usually see Tess there with him and I also liked the power dynamics/trust thing going on. The plot twist? That was everything!

All over you - a Javi G drabble by @theywhowriteandknowthings

This is super fucking hot ah!! I love needy men who can't wait to get their hands on you. You're at a fancy party with Javi G and you look so hot he has to drag you into a closet. So good

Take My Hand - a Pero Tovar one shot by @pedrito-friskito

Okay so the prompt ended up being Pero Tovar, “is this real? are…are you real?” for fluff and “take off your clothes before I rip them off your body” for smut. And it's perfect. It's got this touch of angst, but it's so fluffy and sweet and then the smut is so hot. I am in love

John Wayne - a Joel one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

SOOOO fuckin sweet, man. Like it's heartbreaking obvi. You show up in Jackson and Maria is all "this is my husband Tommy" and you're like that's the brother of the love of my life (pre-outbreak). And I won't spoil what happens but I love it so fucking much

Cherub - a Joel series by @cherubispunk

TW Dubcon - read the warnings - Mean old trailer park drug dealer Joel? The mouth on that man... Yeah this is filthy in the best way.

Stay - a Javi P one shot by @millerscoffee

Motherfuckin daddy kink with Javi P???? Hell yes. Yes on every level. This is so fucking hot ugh. The mouth on that man is criminal.

Religious Corruption - a Dave York two shot by @absurdthirst

Just reading the fuckin warnings/content summary on this fic got me screaming. Reader is an innocent virgin beginning her freshman year at a very religious school and she gets a crush on her professor, Dave York. This is not your average loss of innocence fic, not your average Dave York fic, not your average professor fic.... This is unlike pretty much anything else I've ever read and I loved it. It's sweeter than you might expect, but it's got penty of angst and the smut is insane.

I Will Always Find You a Din series by @lahooozaherr

Bodyguard!Din is one of my favorite things ever, seriously. I have only read the first chapter of this, but I'm so excited to read more. The way the whole first part of this fic is a flashback and you know eventually you get kidnapped???? It gives you this feeling of doom the whole time you're reading lmao (good thing, I promise) but like... our Mandalorian is gonna save us, yeah?

Be-All and Endor - a Din series by @djarins-cyare

Listen... this is the most well researched Din fic I have ever read. The amount of thought that went into this fic is insane. The linguistics are fascinating -- I think she absolutely nails the voice of everyone in this fic, especially Din. The knowledge of Mando'a and Ewokese on display here is incredible and if you ever wanted to hear Din Djarin growl strings of (actually coherent) Mando'a (with thorough translations) right into your ear... This fic is for you. The characterization and the way that every single decision made by Reader and Din make sense and build to such a gorgeous character arc? UGH. And while you have to wait... a long time... for smut -- it is so worth it. GODS this fic is gorgeous. I love it so fuckin much. (This is the one I was talking about in the intro)

Breaking in the new house - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

AHHHH this is so fucking hot. It's literally husband (so helmetless)!Din fucking you on like every surface of your house on Nevarro. There is not a refractory period in sight in this fic and I love it with all my heart. He is so hot, I want to die. <3

--------------- my fics --------------

I finally made a masterlist for A Ghost of You and updated all the headers which I'm very excited about. I also added a new fic to that series called Faulty System. The series is a mostly angsty, sometimes smutty Dieter Bravo x f!reader fic.

---------- Oldies but Goodies ----------

Here's some fics from before I did the digest or made commentary!

Jack Daniels x tattoo parlour AU - a Jack one shot by @fuckyeahdindjarin

Early Morning Moments - a Dieter one shot by Jazzelsaur on AO3

Over and Done With - a Javi P one shot @loquaciousferret

Every fic by @frannyzooey (I have too many of her fics on my spreadsheet to rec separately lmao)

In an Instant - a Joel one shot by @mishasminion360

A fool for you - a Joel one shot by @supernaturalgirl20

It would be - a Din Series by @fuckyeahdindjarin

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

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[entropiceye1342]

Spoiler free review for Netflix's live action One Piece!

WOW.

A lot of stuff to love! I absolutely ADORE this take on the adventure of the Straw Hat Pirates!

The Straw Hats are all cast perfectly, the supporting cast is spot on. Everyone NAILS their characters!

Give the man a crown!

Iñaki Godoy as Luffy is goofy and oblivious in all the right ways. He sticks the perfect landing of the emotional intelligence that was crucial to bring the deeper side of Luffy to life, and doesn't neglect the hyperactive child side either! Seeing him gleefully bounce around - both in and out of fights- was special. The CGI was pretty good! Better than I expected, really. I appreciate making Luffy a little more level-headed, it's a good choice to tone down the chaos goblin for live action 🤣

It was magnificent to see Luffy grow into a "real" pirate in this arc, and he will be the KING!

Mackenyu as Zoro is a bit "too cool" but honestly I expected it to happen, people tend to overlook the fact that 90% of the time he's just as dumb as Luffy 🤷 but MAN is he cool. He really surpassed my expectations for the fight scenes, and did not skip on the brutality! 3 Sword Style was stunningly realized and incredible fun to watch- even without drawing a single blade!

His one liners and sarcasm are on point, ESPECIALLY regarding Sanji 🤣

Emily Rudd as Nami is INCREDIBLE. Smart as a whip and wily as ever, this cat burglar lands on her feet! In and out of combat, Nami is quick on her feet and with her wit. One Piece passes the Bechdel test once again, and her story is every bit the emotional powerhouse as its manga and anime counterparts- better in some moments! 'Nuff said.

Jacob Romero Gibson as Usopp is delightful, though unfortunately he doesn't get as much time to shine as the others. When he does though, it's fantastic!

He really got the little things down about the character without needing to be as over the top as his counterparts- a bullseye from the sniper!

Sanji is perfect as well, you can SEE the training Taz Skylar went through for the part, from the mouth watering food to the killer martial arts. Every bit as fun to watch as the rest of the Monster Trio! My expectations for him were already high, and he kicked them into the stratosphere.

I'm glad they toned down the flirting, they found the right balance and played it well. Sanji matches Zoro in the bickering spectacularly, an absolute must that exceeded my hopes in both of their performances.

I'm not gonna list everyone but because I love this stupid fucking clown:

Jeff Ward as Buggy is an absolute TREAT, I am a huge fan of this take on the character. The perfect storm of bumbling dipshit who wants to be taken seriously, but still pretty intimidating at times. LOVE it. His jokes are GOLD.

Speaking of! Gold Roger, the man who started it all! *mwah!* Dazzling performances from him AND the Marines.

The few nitpicks I have are minor, the childhood acting ranges from ok to abysmal, Lily Fisher as young Nami is a notable standout. Some of the "minor" characters suffer from wooden acting, but honestly that's about the worst of it.

The Fishmen look a little low budget in their early appearances, but are absolutely PERFECT when they are the ones in the spotlight. Absolutely phenomenal work from McKinley Belcher III, my biggest fear from this was Arlong being done wrong and he CRUSHED IT!

The soundtrack was rousing, it truly felt like a call to adventure! And above all the SET DESIGN 😭

They TRULY brought the world that Oda Senseii has been drawing for us all these years, to life.

And now, anime One Piece is trending on Netflix.

THE GREAT PIRATE ERA IS HERE!

Here's to hoping Netflix doesn't Netflix it 🍻

What did you think?

Especially if this is your introduction to One Piece, I would LOVE to hear your thoughts!

#one piece live action #iñaki godoy #straw hat luffy #one piece #emily rudd #nami #mackenyu #roronoa zoro #jacob romero gibson #usopp #taz skylar #vinsmoke sanji #jeff ward #buggy the clown #mckinley belcher iii #arlong #one piece anime

[thespiral]

OKAY I found my notebook so I didn’t have to put it in a napkin but. BUT

CHAINSAW MAN AU FRESNO BABYYYY I got it down finally after mulling it over my head for 50000 years and inspired from @sugar-grigri’s incredible write up on how a love devil would look like/function which was genius and absolutely helped with doing the connections that were missing and also taking elements from @krokaxe’s genesis Fresno design that still lives in my head rent free it’s so good

it's due a lot of retooling to make it feel Complete and not just like sketchy wip but it's perfect for now and maybe ill see to pulling it together

they’re the love. Fiend? Host? Hybrid? Something like that. They have a lot going on and I’m genuinely just going to throw up like 50000 lines about their design that is (more or less) wip since I still have to design the butterfly wing design since I didn’t have any proper ideas atm and see if I cram anymore heart motifs in there BUT. It’s here and I am sooo excited to ramble about it. Under the cut for everyone’s sake :3 also chainsaw man spoilers. smile

SO. i definitely did want to make fresno the love devil because they are ofc afraid of love and attachment and i love beating them with the irony stick so love devil/love fiend it was, msotly because they have extremely complicated feelings towards love and attachment because they both crave it and are scared of it, and with me reading on i figured going with a fiend/host situation would be fun. in the storyline in my head the love devil, a primal fear either pulls a pochita and escapes hell or lets itself be cut down to reincarnate into the world, maybe seeking this idea of like. experiencing how Humans Do and it's the idea of like, dying to be humanized but also struggling with it

which is very funny because fresno is the worst person they could have encountered for that, in my head its maybe like a contract maybe like a fiend takeover, but it's a little more arai/violence than asa/yoru, something something union/fusion/togetherness but i'm getting ahead of myself. fresno is deeply afraid and skittish of love and affection and also bugs. because ever since tma i want to torture them a little with the corruption just 4 laffs. so maybe the contract goes awry or it merges them

so a lot of the design is pulling from genesis which is kind of a personal bad end for fresno since it's a lot like. marriage. union. but kind of like a bitter idolization of like this like "wife"/virgin image that they come to hate, so the crown/chain halo. the chain halo is kind of pulling a motif from other pieces that i just kinda imagined since they are in the legion but uhhh love & control. iykyk. i figured that it was a good base to start with though i was split with going with the idea of maybe more classical devil since demons/devils are one of their Themes but then i thought nah lets beat them with the irony stick more. so they're angelic looking BUT with a broken halo completed with a chain. union. marriage. fusion. a middle ground between them

the butterfly motif really tied it all together though that FUCKS. mostly because fujimoto's fiend designs are simplistic but in a way that's kinda hard to nail down and i think tying the design to expressions is so cool and it added like entire layers of complexity to it all because like, butterflies in your stomach, but also butterflies also drink blood, love is blind and i didn't illustrate it but they're supposed to have the eye camo some butterflies have (its also why the butterfly wings are backwards) and also, heart motifs and their own personal gripes because fresno HATES being seen as weak and butterflies are very fragile.

maybe behind the wings they also have tears as a genesis element as well. hmm much to think about. i also wondered if they'd look too silly but i mean, yoru.

so maybe they can look a little silly. or maybe make the eyes ringed like the horsemen because. well. gay shit. they don't have eyes for anyone else.

the veil connecting their crown is also like vaguely "insect wing" looking but also heart looking. also i liked the idea of either some live butterflies or butterfly decorations on them so they didn't look so plain. their hair is also like, Iconic so i wanted to push that so the curls are vaguely heart looking, it's a little overshadowed by the butterfly sketch lines but there's at least a few i tried to put in.

in my head they do have the powers of like, blindness, frenzy, control (lol), but another i imagine would be the idea to give and take love, like imagine. for example. if you were a person that hadn't experienced love in a meaningful way and then you just like Feel it. all of it. love and warmth and togetherness in the blindest, purest, most unconditional way beamed directly into your head and then. it's gone. forever. unless...

the idea of fixation and people being fixated on them is also one of their Themes and like, in the vaf suspended in gaffa/mama animatic that exists only in my head the idea of like control devil (not the canon ones. in this one it's a whole other guy) being attracted to love first for power (since love and control DO go together in some scenarios) but also falling victim to their power as well is funny and i like that, and idea of losing yourself to another, where does one begin and the other end is like. well. incredibly up my alley. also just like getting the taste of something you've never experienced yourself but also twisted in its own way (in my head, there's the lyric in suspended in gaffa of "not till i'm ready for you" which is the singer addressing this like, higher power of something they want to have/see (in the song it's implied to be a glimpse of god) and they would have to work for their reward, but taking that and changing it into the speaker being the higher power addressing the singer feels like the type of shakeup that would be going thru a control's lens maybe. also using the idea of a transforming devil maybe a secondary power of transformation (haha, butterflies also represent that/reincarnation) as a loved one OR. the Potential of them as a loved one. fresno has the terrible luck of attracting people who love/value them for what they Can be or what they Could have been, and having the butterfly maybe swap designs or transform or be blank could be something like that. wanting someone to see behind the curtain, not shy away from who they Really Are Right Now. consider that another stick

there's also the aspect of union/fusion/togetherness tha i just. love. so i had to do it. something about tying together two beings, till death do us part, maybe the creation of a whole new thing since i'm insane and would like to tie the vaflings into it because of course i would

i think there would be a whole struggle of being afraid of what you represent/embody and acceptance and a lot of other things.

this turned out to be like a massive rambling thing SORRYYYYY i like talking about this a lot if you've read this far thank you and you havent thank you regardless. i'm soooo glad and excited to have a proper design to put in the grinder now

#If I @ don’t feel obligated to interact/rb or anything I’m just rambling based off my oc lmao just wanna give credit where credit is due #Also I was that anon I got. Shy. Hi. But seriously that post was awesome and helped me just Get there with this #Fresno #my art

[starlightandetherealshadows]

Hello! Feel free to ignore this, but I wanted to give my two cents about the MC's initial personality while playing. Now, this may be blunt, but at first, I was incredibly disappointed. Usually, I tend to play stoic/quiet MCs who don't lash or speak out, and it seemed to be quite the opposite to the distrusting and stoic mc in the game. However, I was thinking extremely hard about this, and I actually get why the MC was so outspoken, especially when V literally pointed a gun at them. Stoic and stubborn MC, from what I saw in the prologue, could easily be more nonchalant *before* the alien invasion, but that, obviously, changed. When C found them and brought them to the hideout, I didn't take into account that MC was in a vulnerable position, and I only focused on the part that MC hadn't interacted with another person in years. So, yeah, of course, MC may be overwhelmed, but their not gonna let people (V *cough*) walk all over them. I guess the thing was that I was so used to stoic MCs in IFs just standing on the sidelines and observing, but that is obviously not that kind of IF. The thing that had gotten to me the most, however, was the second-hand embarrassment of MC actually talking back to V after he blatantly insults them because I could never😭 I guess what I am trying to say is that even though I was seriously taken aback, none of the characters (including MC) are not gonna be 2-dimensional (as you have stated multiple times), and it has definitely grown on me, even if the MC was a little more of a fire-cracker than I expected. I am really looking forward to seeing where you take this story, and I will absolutely be eating it up because even if I might have to be tossing my phone across the room occasionally (bc my second-hand embarrassment is so easily triggered😭😭), I cannot get enough of your writing and characters!! I hope this made sense because I was just rambling about my take on if you are willing to make the MC a little more stoic or have some mute choices, which I am not against, but at the end of the day, I will still be reading the fuck out of Memento Mori! Have a good day/night!!! MWAH💋

Hi sunshine!

I appreciate your super-thorough analysis of both MC's personality and also your initial/developing reaction to it!

Just wanna offer some perspective on why I'm writing MC the way I am (you've already nailed a lot of the points but this is gonna be a succinct explanation from my head hehe)

MC is ultimately a fully fledged character in Memento Mori. While writing, I have about six different MC's in my head, each with distinct personalities, motives, and reactions to events. As I'm writing Ch. 2 in particular, I'm using these characters to influence the choices available and the stat checks necessary for certain actions. MC was never going to be a self insert. I love a good self insert sometimes, but it doesn't work with this if!

What makes characters feel realistic and multi-dimensional to me is their ability to break out of their different archetypes. We all know the ones like The Mean Girl or the Shy Kid or the Comic Relief. We can use your Stoic!MC example. Do we as humans act the same exact way every single day with every single event and interaction? No, we don't. Because we are complex, muli-faceted individuals that can have conflicting thought and actions, or opinions. What makes a character feel flat is when they are only given like 3 personality traits and stick to those regardless of what happens around them in the story.

So in Memento Mori, your Stoic!MC will have moments where they're outspoken and opinionated. The Charming!MC will lose their cool and lash out rather than smooth talk. The Friendly!MC will snap at someone without thinking. We aren't perfect, neither is MC, and I think that adds dimension to what can easily be a very blank slate kind of character. This isn't exclusive to MC, either! Veronica/Vincent will be nice to you sometimes for seemingly no reason. Zero will have moments where he is not okay and rejects your comfort when he reads it as pity. Cecelia/Chase will not always be the bouncy comic relief that uses humor to make everyone smile.

To add insult to MC's injury, like you mentioned in your ask, they are suffering from extreme amounts of PTSD and trauma. They have lost everyone and everything, they're a young adult living in complete isolation for two years. They're starving, they're injured, they hate themselves and being alive. It's going to take them a while to feel like themselves. In the span of one day, they've been nearly killed by a monster, then they're covered in blood guts and sweat when they meet C, then C brings them to meet 6 other people (including two aliens) and now they're going on this extensive journey with complete strangers, while that very morning they were contemplating ending it all. it's a lot.

By the time MC meets V, they are already at their limit of dealing with bullshit so V pointing a gun at them was never going to fly. V insulting them was a no-go either. Now, in the future, MC can ignore V more often because they'll be less on edge than when they were all first introduced. Once they have time to process, then they can react what is most familiar and comfortable for them. It will take time.

I laughed when you called MC a firecracker! I'd say they're more...unpredictable as a character when they're under high stress. As time goes on, they'll adjust and mellow out in some ways, but right now? MC has had ENOUGH with feeling like shit all the time.

I'm really glad you were a bit embarrassed by MC talking back to V because that was my goal AHDSEWLKMFRLK it's supposed to feel a bit uncomfortable. It's MC trying to clap back on someone when they have lost most of their social skills. It made ME cringe while writing it. Like oof MC, just ignore them???!!!

I'll definitely be adding some more options to be a bit more stoic or selectively mute in chapter 2, and as for chapter 1, I think more options to stay silent while talking to Cecelia/Chase or when they're speaking with Delphine/V could be good too. I'll see how it flows!

You'll see at the beginning of Ch.2 that MC already feels a tiny bit better. Nothing much but at least they aren't alone anymore, and they have a hot shower and some real food. So small wins for MC!

I think that's all I wanted to say for now!!! Thank you again for your message, my friend!!! I'm glad you're liking my writing and my characters, it does mean a lot to have your support!! <3

#ask: answered #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive game #if wip #interact if #interactive story #memento mori #MC

[sitp-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 27

Omg day 27 already?! I can’t believe this fest is almost done :( today’s prompt for @hprecfest is fun but also challenging for those (like me) who read way more canon-based fic than AUs. But I do love a good challenge so I decided to go full non-magical AU instead of picking a “Draco in the Muggle World” AU. And since I’ve been sick in bed with a lot of time in my hands I thought why not rec 2 Drarry fics + 1 rare pair. As you’ll see I love rivals to lovers a normal amount so that naturally makes Sports AU my absolute obsession jam. I’m so happy to include in one single post an old fave, a recent fave and my favourite rare pair. Run don’t walk!

Day 27) a Muggle-AU fic:

Drarry

🏒 Mad Blood Stirring by provocative_envy (E, 3k)

It's not like they've been angrily hooking up on the sly since meeting at a Juniors skills camp in fucking Manitoba four years ago, except that's exactly what they've been doing. ALTERNATIVELY: Draco and Harry really need to talk about their feelings.

fucking finally, the perfect excuse to cheekily include my fave sports/non-magical AUs and scream non-stop about them! I couldn’t care less for hockey, and yet I’ve reread this classic more times than I care to admit. this is superb rivals with benefits to lovers (my fave!), super hot and hilariously chaotic as all Drarry things should be. PE nails both characters in a non-magical setting perfectly - their voices are a delight and the constant flirting bickering made me lol every 3 seconds. they are so deliciously crazy for each other I could stay in this verse forever just watching them pine, play & fuck throughout the season - make sure to go check the FlintWood piece here, it’s equally brilliant! def a classic sports AU to reread over and over.

🚣‍♀️ Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46k)

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

an instant 2023 fave, this is the rowing AU I did not know I needed but boy, am I happy it found me 🙏🏼 citrus got me shooketh from beginning to end, I am awed by the world building and the whole Oxford way of life especially the classism aspect and the training ethos. everything is so vivid and refreshing and unlike anything I’ve seen in the fandom so far. the fic incorporates many canon elements and balances dialogue, world building and character development flawlessly. being in Harry’s head is an emotional ride, he’s a wonderful and relatable character and I just wanted him to be happy so badly. Draco’s arc is equally moving (I was screaming at his reappearance) and this is peak rivals to lovers!!! I was very invested in the competition and the romance is so so lovely and real. I felt incredibly sad and lost when I finished this fic because I wanted to stay in this universe forever. fun, inventive, sophisticated and surprising in the best ways, go read it now

Rare pair

Shut Up and Kiss Me by @unmistakablyoatmeal (Harry/Teddy, E, 7.7k)

There's a reason Harry walks an extra ten blocks to go to the shops and it has nothing to do with onions.

smitten Harry my beloved!!!! I’m so weak for this ship and this shop AU is the cutest thing you’ll read today, I love swooning Harry daydreaming about Teddy and being an absolute dork around him. it’s so funny (and mildly embarrassing) to watch him pine over this cool, charming, and confident young Teddy who’s not afraid to get what he wants 🌝 the clubbing scene deserves special kudos for its depiction of ageism in queer spaces and how older folks sometimes struggle to fit in. for all their differences I love how Harry and Teddy instantly click, the casual-not-so-casual flirting flows smoothly between them until the UST breaks with deliciously hot smut as per sdk’s usual. a sweet AU to check before the year ends!

#hprecfest2023 #day 27 #muggle AU

[kmilipede]

~ the devil judge fics that rewired my dna ~

so uhm here’s my small silly little list of some tdj fic that has altered my soul because let me tell you. when a tdj fic hits it HITS. so maybe there’ll be a fic here that you haven’t read that you’ll enjoy here

these are all gahan because yes and also all completed because i’ve been hurt too many times before. also i love all of these fics very dearly so they’re not in any order

➤ it’s here i’ll be with you by mcreary

➣ Mature, ~27k words, Post-canon, Angst with a happy ending

➣ Gaon keeps attempting to fix things, but somehow, one part always seems to be missing.

➣ for me, this is THE post-canon gahan fic. what stands out for me is while gaon may be awfully lovesick, he doesn’t completely isolate himself - still maintains and forms friendships with people. watching the development of this and the way he heals is EXQUISITE and it’s written EXQUISITELY. the yearning has a wonderful payoff too. it’s just really fucking amazing guys plz read it

➤ Gravitational Pull by Amethystina

➣ Teen, ~22k words, Ep 13 canon divergence

➣ As grateful as Ga On is that Soo Hyun rescued him from Bamboo Spear's violent mob, he can tell she's lying when she claims to have heard about it on the police radio. That explanation just doesn't add up. So Ga On pressures her to tell the truth and, to his surprise, she reveals that Kang Yo Han was the one who sent her.

That one simple admission sets off a series of events that Ga On could never have predicted — events that bring out feelings he's done his best to ignore.

And desires he realizes he might not be strong enough to resist.

➣ i like how this fic doesn’t ignore how strongly gaon obviously feels for soohyun - i mean she’s been the only person for him to rely on for years. yet despite that, gaon works through what he actually wants and feels and chooses yohan. i cannot get over how well gaon’s inner thoughts are written. in fact, i can not get over how well the characters are written, full stop.

➤ Once you say it out loud, it can’t be undone by Ivrigasked

➣ Mature, ~9k words, 5+1, Domestic

➣ Alternative title: Five times Gaon catches Yohan off guard, and the one time he sees it coming.

➣ sometime domestic-style fics can be overly sickly but this is not one!! love the follow of gahan’s relationship and it’s written so well and smoothly. the yohan pov is nice too :)

➤ Destroy Me More by saturate

➣ Explicit, 6.5k words, Ep 12 canon divergence, Sexual Content

➣ “What kind of monster am I becoming?” Gaon asks, then, and wishes he could regret it, this becoming. He knows that Yohan is a monster, in some ways. Knows that only another monster could stand on his level, be his equal, and Gaon yearns to stand beside Yohan with an intensity that hollows him out.

Yohan’s hand on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. Gaon shudders. Wants more. Wants everything. “It may be hard,” Yohan says, and his ears are flushed red, like something in this is getting to him, too, “but it can’t be helped.”

➣ i love episode rewrites! really wish this is what happened in episode 12 ngl. absolute nailed the characters and their mannerisms and their incredibly hot dynamic. there’s some lines in this that making me go fucking feral - an absolute masterpiece when it comes to that and the writing overall is just great. i come back to this a lot just to scream

➤ Bedroom Hymns [series] by godotismissing

➣ Explicit, ~31k words, Sexual content, ….various kinks

➣ Kinky Gahan fics

➣ i mean it’s porn. but if you want some excellent tasteful well written porn for gahan these are all the PERFECT fics. some of these have pretty different …… premises but they’re all EXTREMELY hot and will unleash all the pent up tension you have after watching the amount of sexual tension they have in the show jesus christ

➤ underneath the waterfall by vi (imvi)

➣ Mature, ~21k words, Post-canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending

➣ They’ve always been different kinds of wounded animals.

➣ for me, this is THE other post-canon gahan fic. it hurts sososo much then carefully puts you back together. like gaon is very sad but yohan comes back to mend him and it’s just so. everything

➤ path of the fossils by noctevicos

➣ General Audiences, ~1.5k, Fluff, Intimacy

➣ “You can touch me, you know. You won’t hurt me.”

“I’m trying not to,” Yohan says, and then his eyes widen and he freezes, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Too late, thinks Gaon. I see you.

➣ i come back to this one a lot because there’s something so tender and delicate about it that i love. it paints such a beautiful picture. it’s written so wonderfully and it’s so just ugh everything i really just melt when i think about it

i may add to this in the future but for now. go show these fics some love 🔫

#the devil judge #tdj #kang yohan #kim gaon #gahan #the devil judge fanfic #fic rec #the devil judge fanfiction