#(back when i had sort of dipped out of the fandom)

[lohstandfound]

ignore this.

learning to shut up when i dont have anything new to say to the discussions my mutuals are having about the treatment of the female characters in this show and fandom

even though ive just gone ahead and rambled in the tags a bunch of bullshit

[geminiwritten]

emergency contact ; bradley 'rooster' bradshaw

fandom: top gun

pairing: bradley x reader

summary: rooster exploits having you as his emergency contact to get you away from hangman

notes: okay, i am so sorry if this is rushed but i had to get it out before i start my new job (and maybe won't have so much time to write)... i really hope y'all enjoy it!!! please let me know, i really love all kinds of feedback! (p.s. this is also super lame and cheesy but that’s just my genre now)

warnings: swearing, very poor us navy knowledge (i literally just do some very brief googling), very minor and probably inaccurate medical descriptions, text chat screenshots, use of y/n (which is a warning now?), and a kind of rushed ending

word count: 9129

“Damn.” You stop just before stepping into the sun, tipping your head forward so you can see over the frame of your sunglasses. “I should come here more often.”

Fighter jets line the tarmac in two neat rows, and in the middle under the shade of one of the jets are your friends, the dagger squad. They’re all on the ground, half of them in a sit up position and the other half doing push ups. All looking absolutely fine.

Maverick is talking to someone a little off to your right, but you’re more than happy to wait for him while you ogle the pilots performing their punishments. Hondo is standing over the seven of them, counting repetitions loudly and correcting their forms.

“Hey,” Maverick calls, his voice echoing into the hangar.

You turn to see him tuck his helmet under one arm as he walks quickly toward you. “Hey Mav.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I had a day off, so I thought I’d finally get my pre-enrolment sorted out for my DBIDS card.” You hold up the ID badge hanging on a lanyard around your neck. “You’re my sponsor, by the way.”

He frowns. “Aren’t I supposed to be escorting you, then?”

You hike your thumb over your shoulder toward where you’d entered the hangar. “Warlock vouched for me and said he’d get you to take me back to the VCC and sign everything then.”

Maverick glances passed you, giving a short wave to the rear admiral who had stopped to talk to a couple of other officers. “Well then, I better wrap this lot up,” he says. “Are you alright to wait a bit?”

You nod, letting your lips curl into a smirk as your eyes slide back over to the squad. “I am more than happy to wait.”

His gaze follows yours and he chuckles. “They’ll start showing off if they know you’re here. Why don’t you come over and say hello?”

You push the bridge of your sunglasses further up your nose. “I would love to.”

Mav leads the way to the squad, into the sun and across the hot tarmac. It’s unusually warm today, and you can feel your skin start to perspire after only a few steps out from under the hangar’s shade. Or maybe you’re just starting to sweat because of the scene you’re approaching.

You’ve never seen the squad in their flight suits before. You’ve seen pictures and videos, but you’ve never seen them in person. On a hot day. Half unzipped and tied around their waists. As they drip with sweat.

Your eyes find Bradley’s head of tousled golden-brown locks immediately, and your heartrate ratchets up a few notches, your breath catching in your throat. He’s doing push ups, his dog tags touching the concrete on every dip and his back muscles rippling under the black material of his shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin.

Your knees almost wobble when you stop beside Maverick, and Jake is the first to notice you as he comes up for his next sit up. “Hey gorgeous,” he calls out, that signature smirk plastered across his flushed face.

“Hey.” You let your eyes wander over the rest of the group before settling back on Bradley. Your sunglasses slide a little further down your nose and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard to try and distract yourself from the way Bradley’s biceps are bulging and straining.

When he glances up at you, your head spins. His face is flushed and his brows furrowed, but there’s still a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Eyes down, Rooster,” Hondo barks.

Bradley’s head snaps back down, but the next push up he does seems a little firmer and a little lower. Your mouth waters as you trace the outline of his broad shoulders, letting your gaze slide down his back to his butt, lingering there as his muscular body moves up and down.

“Phoenix, you’re done,” Hondo announces, startling you out of your trance.

Natasha lets out a whoosh of air as she finishes her sit ups and falls back against the concrete. She shields her eyes with one hand, squinting toward you and waving her other hand in the air.

You wave back just as Hondo announces, “Hangman, Coyote, you’re done.”

Javy falls back the same way Natasha had, his hands holding his abdomen as he works on catching his breath, but Jake doesn’t stop. He maintains perfect form as he sinks back and sits up, winking at you before lowering himself back again.

Natasha scoffs. “Show off.”

Maverick catches your eye and smirks before taking half a step forward. “What’s your goal here, Hangman? Are you trying to hurt yourself?”

“No sir,” Jake replies, his expression full of steely focus. “Just trying to impress the lady and outlast these chumps.”

Mickey chuckles as he lowers himself into another push up. “Since when is Y/N a lady?”

“Hey!” you exclaim.

Laughter rolls through the squad, and even Hondo cracks a smile as he says, “Bob, you’re done.”

Bob finishes his sit ups with a sigh and wraps his arms around his knees, chuckling softly through his ragged breaths.

You look at Maverick, tipping your chin in Mickey’s direction. “Can I sit on him?”

Mav chuckles. “As much as I'd love to see that, not with Warlock standing twenty feet away.”

You roll your eyes and sigh, turning back to face the group.

“You can sit on me,” Jake says as he rises into another sit up. He lowers himself back with a shit-eating grin before sitting up again. “Later tonight.”

Javy, Mickey, and Reuben snicker as Natasha rolls her eyes, but Bradley stays silent. You can see little droplets of sweat soaking into the concrete below him, and your first thought is ‘what a waste’. Great, you’re officially creepy enough to want to drink his sweat.

“Alright,” Hondo says. “That’s enough, the lot of you.”

Mickey and Reuben groan as they sit back on their haunches and turn their heads up to the sky, breathing in the warm afternoon air, but Bradley keeps going.

“Rooster, Hangman, that’s enough,” Mav says, his voice stern despite the smirk on his lips.

“I can last as long as you can, Bradshaw,” Jake taunts.

Bradley lets out a harsh breath as he pushes himself up again. “That’s not what I’ve heard, Seresin.”

A chorus of ooh’s fills the air as the rest of the squad watch the two stubborn boys, eyes bouncing between them. You have to keep reminding yourself to look over at Jake, to not make it so obvious that half the reason you’re here is to drool over Bradley.

“Come on, boys,” Maverick sighs. “That’s enough.”

Neither of them let up, and Hondo chuckles to himself as he strolls into the hangar.

Maverick clears his throat. “Lieutenant Bradshaw, Lieutenant Seresin, that is enough.”

They both stop and quickly get to their feet, their faces red and glistening with sweat. You can’t help but wonder if that’s what Bradley would look like after a good few hours of sex. You definitely plan on finding out one day, if you can ever find the courage to make a move.

“No debrief this afternoon,” Maverick announces. “So, unless anyone has anyone questions, you’re all dismissed.”

Bob quickly pipes up with a question about one of the exercises they performed earlier in the day, but you can barely hear the discussion between him and Maverick. Your eyes are all over Bradley, because seeing him in his flight suit is doing something to you, something more than usual. He’s standing wide, those big black boots planted further than shoulder-width apart, making his legs look even longer and more powerful than usual. His arms are crossed, his biceps straining against the black fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt. It’s clinging to every inch of his muscled torso, tucked into the flight suit that is tied around his waist. The gold in his hair is shining beneath the hot sun, his tan skin is glowing with sweat, and his slutty sunglasses are perched a little too low on his nose. This man is walking sex, and it’s becoming a health hazard because you’re pretty sure you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

A voice suddenly breaks through your Bradley-induced trance. “Is that okay?”

You blink a couple of times, refocusing on Maverick who is now standing between you and the squad with his eyebrows raised in question. “Is what okay?”

He rolls his eyes, lips quirked into a small but knowing smirk. “I’m just going to have a quick shower before taking you back to the VCC. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good.” He claps a hand on your shoulder. “You go ahead and get back to that daydream. By the look on your face, it was getting good.”

You scowl at him as he chuckles and walks away, heading in the same direction that Reuben and Mickey are walking. The rest of the squad are still standing in front of you, chatting about something that you assume came up from Bob’s earlier query.

Jake breaks away from the group, stepping toward you with a wide grin. “What brings you out here, gorgeous?”

“Getting my pre-enrolment sorted out,” you reply.

“For a DBIDS card?”

You nod.

“Why do you need to be able to visit unchaperoned?” he asks, that usual cocky glint making his green eyes sparkle. “I’ll gladly be your chaperone whenever you want to visit.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “As much as I would love to be personally escorted by you, Hangman, I thought it would be smart in case I ever need to enact my emergency contact duties.”

He frowns. “Who’s emergency contact are you?”

“That would be me,” Bradley says, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling so wide as you look up at him, but you know your bright red cheeks are already giving you away.

“I thought your emergency contact was Mav?” Jake asks.

“He was,” Bradley replies. “But then I thought that if I’m ever in an emergency situation, there’s probably a good chance that Mav is in that situation with me.”

Jake nods. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” A beat of silence passes before he turns his attention back to you, that flirty smirk reappearing as he claps his hands together. “Anyway, are we all set for tomorrow?”

“Yep,” you respond. “Are you still sure you want to spend your day off helping me?”

“Of course. Any day with you is a day well spent, whether it involves manual labour or not.”

You asked Jake a few weeks ago to help with the delivery and assembly of your new bedframe and mattress and getting rid of your old stuff, since the last time you did it on your own you nearly ended up in the hospital with a slipped disc. Normally, you would ask Bradley for help with this kind of thing, but your crush has been so stifling the last couple of months that you know it would be counterproductive to have Bradley sweating and moving heavy things in your bedroom. Besides, Jake happens to have the day off because he’s owed an RDO, and he insists that he doesn’t mind helping you out. It’s a win-win situation; you get a new bed, and no one ends up in the hospital with a broken back. Not that you would mind if Bradley broke your back.

“What’s tomorrow?” Bradley asks, his brows pinched into a frown.

“I’m helping her in bed,” Jake replies quickly, his grin downright evil. “I mean, with her bed.”

You roll your eyes at Jake again, before looking up at Bradley. “I’m getting a new bedframe and mattress, remember?”

“Right,” he says, brows still furrowed. “I thought I told you I’d help you with that?”

The way he’s looking down at you is making the butterflies in your stomach riot. He looks like a scolded puppy, wondering what he did wrong to deserve this punishment.

“You did, but Jake has the day off and you’ve already done enough slave labour for me.”

“But I like being your slave,” he says, the corner of his lips tipping up slightly.

It takes all your strength not to groan out loud. He is not making this easy.

“And you will always be my favourite slave, Bradley.” You pat a hand on his chest. “Which is why I need to give you a break every now and then.”

You pull your hand away quickly, immediately regretting the fact that you just felt up his firm chest and damp shirt, because now you’re getting that familiar ache behind your hipbones. The ache that only your vibrator and fantasies of Bradley can satiate, but even that hasn’t been enough lately. You need the real thing.

The sound of your name echoing through the hangar draws your attention, and you look over your shoulder to see Maverick with spikey, wet hair waving you toward him.

“That’s my cue.” You turn back to Jake. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and you”- you look up at Bradley -“on the weekend.”

When you slide out from under Bradley’s arm, it suddenly feels like this very hot day has turned cold. It takes all your strength to keep your feet moving one after the other away from him. You’ve had a crush on Bradley Bradshaw from the moment you first met him, but it’s called a ‘crush’ for a reason, because now it is crushing you. He’s the first thing on your mind when you wake up, and the last name on your lips before you fall asleep.

“Are you alright?” Maverick asks once you reach him, and you know it’s because your cheeks are bright red.

“Yeah, just a bit hot out here.”

He nods as you both start walking toward the door. “It’s supposed to be even hotter tomorrow.”

Back at the Visitor Control Centre, Maverick signs everything he needs to in order to grant you unchaperoned access to the base. After that, he walks you to your car and bids you farewell. You’re more than grateful for your car’s aircon as you take a moment to collect your thoughts, the ones that are running wild with fantasies about Bradley in that damn flight suit.

Eventually, you make your way home and immediately hole yourself up in your room. You spend over an hour in there to trying to satisfy that ache below your belly, but the incessant messages from the group chat popping up on your phone screen make it difficult. Only when your stomach starts to grumble do you give up and head into the kitchen, reading through the messages you’d been trying to ignore.

You hit send on your last message and smack your phone face down on the kitchen counter. Your cheeks are red and your heart is racing, and you’re not hungry anymore because your stomach has twisted itself into one big nervous knot.

You know that whatever it is between you and Bradley is no secret. You assume it’s because you drunkenly confessed to Bob, Mickey, and Natasha one night that you had a huge crush on him, and since then the rest have seemingly caught on. You don’t mind the teasing – at least, you didn’t at first, but it’s becoming more frequent and making you more nervous. Bradley rarely interacts with it, and all you do is tell them to shut up or butt out. You can’t figure out if they’re simply teasing because they can, or if they actually see something between the two of you that is real.

There have been a couple of times when you’ve wondered if Bradley might feel the same way. You even almost made a move once, before chickening out and refusing to look him in the eye for two weeks straight. You know you’re being a little bitch about it, and you hate yourself every day for being like one of those characters in your romance books that pines and pines, despite their broody love interest being obviously smitten. But you still can’t stop yourself from being a chicken. You justify it by telling yourself that it's to protect your friendship and the group’s comfortable dynamic, but you know that deep down, you’re scared. You’re scared that Bradley only wants that one thing, while you’re nothing short of hopelessly in love with the man.

-

You wake up to the sound of your phone vibrating on your bedside table. You know it’s too early for your alarm and way too early for the delivery driver to be calling you, so you’re not surprised when you see Jake’s goofy contact photo lighting up your phone screen.

“Good morning, Hangman,” you say groggily.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he replies cheerfully. “Did I wake you up?”

You sigh and roll onto your back. “Yes.”

He chuckles. “Oops. How’s about I make it up to you with breakfast?”

You sit up quickly. “You’re already on your way here?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter, throwing your bed covers back.

“Just the usual?” he asks.

“Make it a double shot.”

You toss your phone onto your bed before hurrying into your ensuite, quickly stripping down as the shower heats up. You brush your teeth in the shower and scrub everything as quickly as you can before wrapping yourself in a towel and starting to pull all the bedding off your mattress. Just as you’ve finished shoving it all into your already overflowing hamper, your apartment intercom buzzes.

You hitch your towel higher as you step out of your room and press the button on the intercom to unlock the lobby door. There’s an affirmative beep and a click, and then you walk toward the front door and double check that your towel is covering you.

As soon as you hear footsteps, you pull the door open with a scowl. “Since when did I tell you to get here at the ass crack of dawn?”

His green eyes widen as he takes you in, that signature smirk painting his features. “I thought it would be good to get an early start, but this”- he nods at you -“is an unexpected bonus.”

You roll your eyes and step aside, allowing him in. He stops at your kitchen bench and places the cup tray of two coffees down alongside a paper bag filled with deliciously greasy smelling breakfast.

“Give me five minutes,” you say, before walking back into your bedroom.

You quickly change into a pair of exercise tights and an oversized shirt – one that you’re not sure even belongs to you – before fixing your hair and doing a very quick version of your morning skincare routine. When you reemerge into the main area of your open-plan apartment, Jake is seated on the lounge with your breakfast laid out across the coffee table.

You flop beside him and take a hashbrown. “So, what’s the plan?”

He turns to you with a frown. “Why do I have to come up with a plan?”

“I wouldn’t need your help if I had a plan, would I?”

He chuckles softly. “I guess not.”

You spend the next five minutes inhaling your breakfast while Jake asks a few logistical questions. Once you're both finished eating and quietly sipping on your coffees, he pushes himself off the lounge and walks toward your bedroom.

He pauses at the door. “Can I go in?”

You nod, and the door squeaks as he nudges it open. He takes one step in and stops, cocking his head thoughtfully before continuing in. He assesses the area and walks further in, at which point you decide to join him. He’s standing on the opposite side of your bed when you get there, and he’s wearing the type of shit-eating grin that you know comes with some sort of teasing or offensive remark.

“So,” he says, “this is where you touch yourself and fantasise about Rooster every night.”

Your stomach drops and you splutter against the lid of your coffee cup, spraying half a mouthful of it across the room. You can feel your face turning red as you cough, but you know it isn’t just the lack of oxygen to blame.

Jake gasps, laughter bubbling from his lips as he rushes around the bed to you. “I’m so sorry,” he says between giggles. “Are you okay?”

You continue to cough, holding a hand against your chest as you try to blink back the tears in your eyes. It takes almost a minute for you to compose yourself, but Jake takes even longer to quell his laughter.

He sighs loudly and wipes the corner of his eye while you turn to him with a scowl. “Who told you?”

He bats his eyes innocently. “Told me what?”

You hesitate, your eyes narrowed as your mind races to send the right words to your lips. “That I might have a small crush on Rooster.”

He snorts a laugh. “No one had to tell me anything. Any idiot who spends enough time with the two of you can clearly see that you’re obsessed with each other.”

“What? No.” Your frown indignantly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes, still chuckling. “I can practically see you cataloguing your spank bank every time you stare at him.”

Your eyes grow wide and your skin burns. You have to look away from him to stop yourself from smacking that smug smile right off his face.

“You know what,” you say, sparing him only a glance. “I don’t think I want to have this conversation with you, so can we please get back to the bed.”

He sighs wistfully. “If only Rooster heard you say that to me. He’d be ropable.”

You roll your eyes and take another sip from your coffee, ready to turn away from him when realisation hits you. “Wait. Is that why you’re always flirting with me, just to piss off Bradley?”

He shrugs, but his smile is sheepish. “I flirt with you because you’re gorgeous, but annoying Rooster is a small plus.”

“You are unbelievable.” You turn on your heel and walk back out of your room, finding your phone on the couch to check if there are any updates on the delivery of your new furniture.

“Hang on a minute.” He follows you into the living space. “I could help you, you know?”

You scoff. “With what? Moving my new bed in? Because that is why you’re here. Not to make me feel shitty about some stupid, unrequited crush that is apparently pretty fucking obvious.”

He rolls his lips to hold back another laugh. “I could help you make a move,” he clarifies. “Because I’ll tell you this, it is not unrequited. Rooster is as crazy about you, as you are him.”

Your heart stutters, but your walls stay up. “How do you know?”

“Just believe me,” he says. “That man’s right forearm is thicker than his left because of you.”

You frown and cock your head, processing his words until the meaning hits you and your mouth pops open.

“Anyway.” He claps his hands and rubs his palms together. “Let’s get this old mattress out of here and start pulling apart the bedframe. I’ll give you some advice while we work.”

For the next few hours, you let Jake tell you what to do. You hold things, you move furniture, you unscrew things, and you listen to his surprisingly sound advice on what to do about Bradley. The more he speaks, the more confident you feel, because something about Jake’s charisma is infectious. You know you might not feel the same when face to face with Bradley’s big brown eyes and pretty smile, but it at least feels good to talk to someone about it. Even if that someone gags every time you start swooning.

- Bradley -

Today is hot, almost too hot. Bradley has pushed his body to the limit before, it’s basically in his job description, but today feels different. He feels sick. His flight suit is too heavy and his muscles are shaking. His stomach is twisting and gurgling with every sharp move, and his head is spinning.

Bradley is only in the sky – flying like a rookie – for an hour before Maverick grounds him, giving him a brutal workout to do while the rest of the squad finish their drills. Even Hondo has taken shelter in the hangar, watching Bradley complete his exercises from afar with a damp towel wrapped around the back of his neck.

The concrete is hot, and Bradley is pretty sure he’s getting second-degree burns on his palms as he pushes himself up into his twenty-fourth burpee. His flight suit is tied around his waist, and he can feel an excess of sweat gathering in the bunched-up material there. His dog tags are jingling as he jumps up and down, occasionally smacking him in the face when his moves are too jerky.

“That’s enough,” Hondo calls out. “Have a break. Drink some water.”

Bradley stops and swipes the back of his hand across his forehead. He can see the squad getting ready to land now, so it must be time for lunch. He waits for them inside the hangar, his heart beating loudly in his chest even after twenty minutes of standing still. Eventually, the group stroll in and head toward the lockers, grabbing their personal items before going to the mess hall.

Bradley finds a seat while everyone else continues to get food. He’s not sure his stomach can handle anything right now, even his water bottle remains untouched. He pulls his phone out and brings up the group chat that has five new messages.

His insides twist at the sight of Jake in your apartment. It’s not like he hasn’t been there before, but he’s never been there alone with you. Bradley clamps his teeth together and wills that sick feeling in his gut to fuck off. This isn’t the time nor the place to vomit about the fact that the girl he likes is spending the day with one of the most charming men he knows.

“You look pale,” Bob says as he puts his tray down on the table.

“But also kind of red,” Natasha adds, a frown pinching her brows. “You look like you’re trying not to hurl.”

Bradley swallows hard and sits up straighter. “I’m fine, just a little wrung out from the heat.”

The rest of the squad join the table and conversation flows easily. A couple of them reply to you in the group chat, but Bradley doesn’t want to know anything else about what’s going on, so he lets his phone buzz face down on the table. He stares straight ahead at the space between Bob and Natasha’s heads, zoning out and imagining a much worse scenario than what is actually happening at your apartment.

He pictures you both sweating and giggling together, bumping into each other as you move and assemble furniture. Then he sees you both on the new mattress, flopping down exhaustedly after finally sliding it onto the new bedframe. You’d stop giggling with a sigh before turning to face one another, locking eyes, expressions turning serious as Jake’s hand comes up to caress your cheek. You would roll onto your side to get closer to him, and he’d only have to move an inch toward you to press his lips against yours. That kiss would unlock something in you, igniting your attraction to this man and making you climb on top of him. Clothes would be torn off, teeth and tongues clashing, and the bed would quickly be broken in.

“Rooster.” Natasha snaps her fingers in front of Bradley’s face.

He blinks a couple of times before refocusing on the woman in front of him. “Huh?”

“Jesus Christ, dude,” she says. “What is wrong with you today?”

Bradley looks to his left and right before spotting the rest of the squad making their way out of the mess hall. He jumps up from his chair. “Shit, that went quick.”

“Well, you were off with the fairies the whole time.”

He tries not to look her in the eye despite her intense stare. The journey back to the hangar is silent, but he can tell Natasha is studying him, scrutinising his expression until they both approach the rest of the group waiting with Maverick.

Mav takes the floor and announces that today is the perfect day to test limits. He starts explaining the workout that he has planned for the squad, because they may have to face extreme heat on their next assignment, and it’s important to be prepared. Everyone groans in protest, even Hondo, but Mav ignores it. He’s almost excited to torture his lieutenants.

An hour later, everyone is absolutely dripping with sweat. All flight suits are at least half off, some discarded entirely as the squad run, jump, and swerve through the makeshift fitness course Mav set up. It feels more like torture than conditioning, but no one has the energy to even speak up.

“Alright,” Mav calls out. “That’s enough. Take a break, have some water, then come inside and take a seat.”

They all slowly drag themselves toward Hondo, who is handing out towels and cold bottles of water. None of them can muster a single word, they all just huff and puff and groan when they wipe their skin with the wet towels. Bradley is the last to approach Hondo, his gaze fixed on the outstretched water bottle as he wonders when the last time it was that he had a drink.

“Rooster.” Hondo takes a step toward the lieutenant. “Are you alright?”

Bradley blinks slowly, looking up as one Hondo turns into two. His surroundings blur and his limbs start to tingle. His head feels heavy and his stomach sinks, his eyes fluttering shut as his body goes limp.

- You -

“Harder,” Jake grunts. “Push harder.”

You let out a puff of air before tensing your muscles and shoving as hard as you can. The mattress slides along the carpet slowly, making your blood boil with frustration. “Why is this thing so fucking heavy?”

Jake chuckles. “I just assumed you bought an extra sturdy one so you and Rooster can fuck as hard as- woah!”

You push with all your strength, sliding the mattress into an unsuspecting Jake. He laughs as he rights himself and guides the mattress further into your room.

“If I knew that annoying you would give you super strength, I would have started earlier,” he says, leaning around the mattress to show you his cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes. “You’ve been annoying me all day.”

“It’s called bonding.”

“Whatever, just get this thing on the frame.”

After a short argument on how you should manoeuvre the mattress, and a string of cuss words as you heave the thing into place, you finally manage to get the mattress sitting snuggly on the new bedframe. You both fall onto it immediately, facing the ceiling as you work to catch your breath.

“Fuck me,” you sigh.

Jake snorts. “I would, but I think Rooster might flay me alive.”

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time today. “I wasn’t offering, and I’m still on the fence about believing you, so stop it with the constant remarks.”

He rolls onto his stomach, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Then let’s have sex and see what happens?”

You huff out a half-assed laugh as you sit up. “Like I said, Hangman; I wasn’t offering.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We shouldn’t play with Rooster’s feelings like that.” He rolls onto his back again and blinks slowly at the ceiling.

It makes you feel better to see a small sign of exhaustion from him, because for most of the day, you’ve been wrecked while Jake has been running off some sort of endless energy reserve. He’s like the human personification of a border collie, a little too keen and full of bounce, and you can definitely see him tearing the lounge apart if he’s bored and locked inside.

You open your mouth to tell him how he reminds you of a herding dog when the sound of your phone’s ringtone cuts you off. You frown, wondering who it could be as you rush out of your room to get it off the kitchen bench.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Mariam. I’m calling from the Primary Health Clinic on North Island Naval Air Station. I need to speak with about Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”

Your stomach sinks so fast and so hard, you feel like it might have fallen right out of your arse. “Is he okay?”

“He’s in our care this afternoon due to a minor incident, and while he’s doing just fine, we cannot permit him to drive himself home. Would you be able to come pick him up?”

You rush over to the coffee table and pick up your car keys. “Of course.”

“That’s great,” the woman replies, her tone calm and even. “I’ll text our address to this number. Do you require any further assistance locating the clinic?”

“No, that should be fine.” You prop your sunglasses on top of your head. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. We’ll see you soon.”

You pull the phone away from your ear as you hurry back into your room. Jake is sitting up now, his brows furrowed and eyes wide with curiosity. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Something happened to Bradley and now he’s at some health clinic or something.” You’re not surprised by the panic in your voice, if only a little embarrassed. The woman said he’s fine. The last thing you need to do right now is panic.

Jake stands up and rounds the bed quickly, putting a hand on each of your shoulders. “Don’t freak out, I’m sure he’s okay. He’s at the clinic, not the hospital, so he’s probably just tripped on his own shoelaces or something.”

You let out a breathy laugh as you search Jake’s face for any hint of worry. He doesn’t seem concerned, so you let yourself relax and picture Bradley sitting sheepishly in a hospital bed with nothing more than a papercut.

“They said he can’t drive, so I have to go pick him up.”

Jake nods. “You go. I’ll stay here and clean up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go get your damsel in distress.”

You hesitate for a second before throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. “Thank you.”

He hugs you back with a chuckle before you pull away and practically run out of your apartment. You don’t slow down for anything; you even take the stairs instead of the elevator because you can’t stand still for even a second. You try not to drive like a maniac, but it’s hard not to as your mind swirls with the possibilities of Bradley’s accident.

In less than fifteen minutes, you’re flashing your identification at the front gate and waiting impatiently for them to raise the boom gate. You swerve into the visitor’s parking lot and jump out of your car, legging it toward the health clinic where your phone’s map tells you to go. It only takes a few minutes for you to get there, and you stop a few feet from the door, taking a moment to control your breathing.

The air is thick and the sun blistering. You’re sweating more than you have all day, since you've spent most of the day inside your airconditioned apartment. If Bradley isn’t really hurt, you’re going to actually hurt him for making you worry this much and run in this heat.

Once your breathing feels more regular, you grab the stainless-steel handle and push the door open. The small reception space is painted blue and white, with a couple of plastic chairs on one side and a magazine rack beside a water bubbler on the other. The blonde woman behind the desk peeks up at you through the Perspex shield surrounding her space.

“Good afternoon.”

“Hi.” You step forward. “I got a call about Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”

To the right of her desk is a hallway leading further into the building. Voices and footsteps echo off the blue walls, and despite the desolate reception area, it seems like the rest of the clinic is rather busy.

“Yes, that was me.” She smiles. “I’ll just get you to fill this out so we can start his discharge, then I’ll take you through.”

You take the clipboard from her and sit in one of the plastic chairs. You barely read the form, skimming quickly over it before answering the few questions and signing your name at the bottom. After you hand it back it to her, you walk over to the water bubbler and fill up a small plastic cup. You drain it three times before she waves you over and starts walking down the hall.

The noises get louder the further you delve into the building, and you quickly realise that this place is something of a mini hospital for minor emergencies to help keep the actual ER from being overrun. The hallway eventually opens up into a larger waiting area with lemon-coloured walls and bigger chairs occupied by sickly officers. One of them is holding a bloody gauze pressed to the palm of his hand, and two others are paper white and dripping with sweat.

“Heatstroke,” the blonde woman says over her shoulder. “We’ve had so many of them today, but your husband was by far the worst.”

You choke on your breath and trip on nothing as you follow her. “M-My what?”

“Oh, sorry.” She turns to her left at the end of the hall. “I just saw you were listed as Lieutenant Bradshaw’s ‘partner’ and assumed. It’s force of habit. I forget that a lot of couples don’t bother with marriage these days.”

Your mind struggles to catch up, half of it rejoicing about the fact that someone thinks Bradley is your husband, and the other half wondering why the fuck he would list you as his partner. Before you can come up with the words to correct the woman, she stops.

“Just in here.” She pushes the door open a small way. “I’ll get his papers sorted and let you know as soon as he can leave.”

You nod, still speechless, and she walks away. You stand still for a moment, your hand on the door and heart racing as you take one deep breath and push.

The room is small, with powder blue walls and the same white linoleum as the rest of the clinic. There’s a stool and tall portable desk in one corner, and one of those plastic waiting room chairs in the other. In the middle of the room is a hospital bed, but there’s no guard rails or bedding, and it's folded up so the sheepish lieutenant occupying it is sitting up straight.

“Hey,” you say, your lips twitching as you hold back a smirk.

He’s hooked up to an intravenous device that has a long tube connected to a bag of clear liquid. His face is flushed and the hair at his neck damp, but otherwise, he looks just as delicious as usual.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

You close the door behind you before approaching the bed. “How are you?”

He shuffles on the crinkly mattress, making room for you to sit. “Never been better.”

"Want to tell me what happened?” you ask as you sit at the foot of the bed.

He rubs the back of his neck, the pink in his cheeks deepening. “Well, it’s hot day, and I forgot to drink water, so I passed out.”

You lose the battle with your maturity and let out a soft laugh. Something about Bradley looking so defeated in a hospital bed amuses you more than it should. That combined with the relief that he isn’t seriously hurt means that you can’t control the elated laughter forcing its way through your lips.

You cover your mouth to try and stop the noise. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I was just really worried and now I’m really relieved.”

He rolls his eyes despite the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad my stupidity amuses you.”

“Do the others have a video of you fainting?”

He nudges your thigh with his socked foot. “Even if they do, you’re not seeing it.”

You laugh quietly for another minute, letting your eyes roam is perfectly healthy and incredibly firm body until it sinks in that he is okay. “I’m glad you’re not seriously hurt.”

“Me too. That would have been embarrassing.”

Your mouth pops open to ask him another question, but the thought is quickly usurped by another. The front reception area had been completely empty despite the fact that there are other patients here. You’re the only civilian here, the only emergency contact for an injured officer, and the injured officer in front of you is looking a hell of a lot better than some of the others you’d walked past.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “Did you ask them to call your emergency contact?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, where are the others?” you ask. “Why don’t the guys out there have their parents or partners here to pick them up?”

He shrugs. “They’re probably going to get patched up and sent back to their squads.”

“Exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. “So, why am I here?”

He shifts nervously, the mattress crinkling beneath his weight. “They said I can’t drive myself home.”

“And you didn’t think to ask one of the other six friends you have that are already on base to drive you home?”

His lips part but no words come out. You can see him struggling, wracking his brain for any sort of excuse, but the longer it takes, the surer you are of the answer to your next question.

“Bradley.”

He looks at you and rolls his lips, his skin turning pink from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Did you tell them to call me so I wouldn’t be alone with Hangman anymore?”

His eyes widen and his mouth pops open, but so does the door to the room. The same blonde woman as before walks in with a nurse close behind.

“Alright, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” she says, clipboard in hand. “You’re just about free to go.”

You quickly hop off the bed as the nurse approaches, pressing yourself against the wall while she removes Bradley’s IV and check his temperature one last time. She gives him what you assume is not the first lecture about staying safe in the heat before declaring him well enough for discharge. The blonde woman then steps forward and asks him to sign a few forms on her clipboard.

“Is that everything?” he asks.

“Almost.” She takes the clipboard from him and flips to the last form before turning to you. “I just need one more signature from you.”

You nod and take the outstretched pen. “Just here?”

“Yep. Just under your name,” she says, before giggling.

You pause mid-signature, turning to her curiously. Her smile vanishes instantly, and she takes half a step back, holding a hand over her mouth, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That was so unprofessional,” she says. “It’s been a long day, and I just remembered that when he was brought in, he kept mumbling your name. I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. I honestly thought it was really sweet.”

Bradley – who is now sitting on the edge of the bed – groans and drops his head into his hands. You have to press your lips together to suppress your laughter, but you can already feel it rattling in your chest. You sign your name quickly and hand the forms back to the woman, who apologises again before exiting the room.

Silence hangs thick and heavy between the two of you as Bradley laces his boots. You don’t speak, you’re not sure you can, so you simply watch him gather his things from across the room. When he’s finished, he finally looks at you with raised brows and flushed cheeks.

“Ready?”

You nod once, pressing your lips together to keep the giggles at bay. He turns toward the door, and you can swear you see his lips tip up into a smirk, but he walks too quickly into the corridor for you to be sure.

You follow him through the building, not the same way you had come in, but out through a different entrance that you assume is for bringing in the injured officers. The heat hits you the second you step out of the building, and you almost choke on the hot air, but you don’t have time to hesitate because Bradley is already forging across the small parking lot.

He glances over his shoulder, but his eyes don’t quite meet yours. “Where did you park?”

“The visitor’s parking near the front gate,” you reply.

He slows his steps and falls into pace beside you. His mouth pops open as a thought flashes across his face, but he closes it just as quickly, rolling his lips and getting lost in his thoughts again.

You decide to help him out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He clears his throat, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. “Talk about what?”

“Oh, Bradley,” you sigh, a smirk on your lips. “There are so many things to talk about, but I thought I’d be polite and let you choose.”

His resolve cracks and a smile splits across his face. His cheeks are still bright red, and thanks to the blistering sun, every inch of his exposed skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You can’t help but watch the column of his throat as he chuckles, his Adam’s apple moving in the most delicious way. It’s probably not healthy how attracted you are to this man.

“I’d barely been awake for five minutes when they asked me who they should call,” he says. “I was still a little out of it.”

“Right.” You nod slowly. “And because you’d just been dreaming about me, I was the first thing that popped into your head.”

He sighs and tips his head back, squinting up at the clear blue sky. “This has to be the most embarrassing day of my life.”

You bite your lip to hold back more laughter, almost stumbling as you come to a halt at the curb. Instinctively, Bradley grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours, keeping you steady as he checks the street each way for traffic. Little sparks of lightning rocket up your forearm and across your chest, zapping your heart and kicking it into overdrive.

You let him guide you across the street, expecting him to let go once you’re safely on the other side, but he doesn’t. The butterflies in your stomach flap to life, but you refuse to let your nerves get the better of you. You have too many questions you need answered right now.

You clear your throat, peaking up at him from the corner of your eye. “So, just so we’re clear, calling me had nothing to do with getting me away from Hangman?”

He keeps his gaze fixed ahead. “Of course not.”

“Okay, that’s good.”

You resist the urge to smile as you wait for him to take the bait. It takes a few minutes, and you’ve reached your car by the time you notice his brows scrunch into a frown.

“Wait, what do you mean that’s good?”

You walk around the front of the car toward the driver’s side. “I don’t know, I just felt different today. You know? Like, being alone with Jake was nice.”

His frown turns into a scowl. “It’s Jake now?”

You roll your eyes, being careful not to appear too amused as you play with fire. “Yes, and Jake is really sweet. He’s funny too, and really smart and… well, he’s hot.”

Bradley takes half a step back from the passenger door. “So, you like Hangman now?”

You shrug. “I guess.”

His eyes flick down to his boots, his mouth popping open as if he’s going to argue, but no words come out. His lips clamp shut and the muscles in his jaw jump as he clenches his teeth.

“Do you have a problem with that?” you ask, batting your eyelashes innocently.

When he looks back up, his glare is lethal. The warm honey-brown eyes you often love to stare into are almost completely black beneath his furrowed brows. “Do I have a problem with that?”

You roll your lips and nod, keeping your eyes as wide and innocent as you can while watching him take long strides around the front of the car. Your heart thunders in your chest, making your pulse thump loudly in your ears as he walks right up to you.

He towers over you, his body barely inches from yours. “You know damn well I have a problem with that.”

You look up at him through your lashes, finally letting your lips curl up into a smirk. “Why?”

His hands grab your hips and turn your body so your backside is pressed against the driver’s side door. “You know damn well why.” He presses his body against yours and moves his hands to lean on the car either side of your shoulders, trapping you.

Your head spins and you struggle to breath, overwhelmed by every inch of him that is pressed against you. “Why?” you ask again, your voice barely above a whisper.

He groans and pushes his hips harder into yours before leaning down and catching your lips with his. Your hands grip the sides of his shirt and pull, as if he isn’t already crushing himself against you. When you feel him slide a leg between yours, you gasp, and he takes the chance to push his tongue past your parted lips. You grind down on his thigh and a let out a soft whimper. You can feel him grin against your mouth before lifting his knee a little higher between your legs.

The rest of the world melts away as you grind and moan against each other, completely lost in the feelings you’ve stamped down for so long. Only when you feel your car door begin to bend behind you do you reluctantly put a hand on his chest and push him back.

He frowns as he steps back, looking adorable with lust-blown eyes and puffy red lips. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re about to put a me-sized dent in my car door,” you reply with a soft laugh.

“Oh.” His shoulders relax and he steps back toward you, his hands landing on your hips. “So, you were joking about Hangman, right?”

You roll your eyes, resting your hands on his chest. “Obviously.”

“Good.”

You give him a small smile before letting your eyes drop, panic seeping into your bones as your usual doubts begin to infect your thoughts. Did he only kiss you because he was jealous? Does he want more than friendship, or just a few extra benefits?

“Hey.” He crooks a finger beneath your chin to tilt your head up. “Do you want to know why I’d have a problem if you really did like Hangman?”

You nod as you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down nervously.

“Because then it would’ve been too late for me to tell you that I’m in love you.”

Your heart almost leaps out of your chest. “In love with me?”

His cheeks go from pink to red and he quickly averts his eyes away from yours. “Unless you don’t feel the same, then I’m just in love with you like a friend.”

You roll your eyes again and softly smack his chest. “Don’t be stupid, of course I’m in love with you. I thought it was pretty fucking obvious.”

His lips split into a grin before he dips back down and kisses you again. “Thank God for that,” he mumbles against your mouth.

You giggle as he trails his lips across your cheek, along your jaw, and down your neck. “As much as I love this,” you say, “I would also really love to get out of the heat.”

“Good idea.” He steps back and pulls your body with his, turning a little to the side as leans toward the car and pulls the driver’s door open. “Let’s get back to your apartment and test out that new bed.”

Your knees almost wobble as you step toward the car and drop into the driver’s seat. Bradley is around the car in less than a few seconds, climbing into the passenger’s side and reaching one hand across the centre console to grab your leg.

“Let’s just hope Hangman hasn’t decided to take a nap,” you say as you begin pulling out of the parking spot.

Bradley turns to you with raised brows. “He’s still at your apartment?”

You nod. “He offered to clean up when I left.”

“What if he refuses to leave?”

You shrug one shoulder, your lips tipping up into a smirk. “Then he can join in.”

Bradley’s fingers squeeze hard around your thigh. “Not a fucking chance.”

You giggle when you glance at his stormy expression, but you’d be lying if you said his jealousy wasn’t a bit of a turn on. “You’re not into wife-swapping?” you ask.

He tilts his head, clearly confused. “Wife?”

“Well, yeah. I’m your partner, right? Your emergency contact partner.”

It takes him a few seconds to realise what you mean, but once he does, he drops his head into both hands and sighs loudly. “They told you that?”

You almost feel bad for laughing at him again, but you can’t help it. “The woman called you my husband when I first got there.”

When he looks back up, you’re positive you’ve never seen a more gorgeous boy in the world. His cheeks are bright pink, his honey-brown eyes are sparkling, and he’s grinning so wide you can’t help but grin back at him. “Well, they didn’t really have an option for ‘best friend who I really want to bang and eventually marry one day’.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you’re pretty sure your heart stops. “Marry?”

He turns his attention out the windscreen, still smiling, and his hand returns to its place on your thigh as he says more to himself than you, “One day soon hopefully.”

END.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Mornings Like This

Pairing: Mom!Paige Bueckers x Mom!Reader

Fandom: WNBA- Dallas Wings

Summary: Kids surprise you and Paige with breakfast-in-bed on Mother’s Day.

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @iwasbored-okay

There’s a soft rustle at the edge of the bed, the kind that usually jolts me awake when one of the kids is up past bedtime—or when Hunter has to pee and refuses to go unless someone “guards the hallway.”

But this time, I’m floating in that syrupy space between sleep and wake, warm under the comforter with Paige tucked behind me, one arm draped loosely across my waist, her breathing steady and slow against the back of my neck.

It smells like syrup.

Wait.

Syrup?

“Shhh!” a tiny voice stage-whispers. “You’re gonna spill the juice, Hunt!”

“I’m not!” Hunter whispers back with all the volume of a mini bulldozer.

I peek one eye open just in time to catch two little heads ducking behind the edge of our bed—one with curly brown hair bouncing with every move, the other with a floppy pajama hood that’s half falling off his head.

Everlynn and Hunter.

Of course.

“Mama’s moving!” Hunter hisses.

I close my eyes quickly and fight the smile creeping up my face. A few seconds later, the mattress dips slightly at the end. Someone climbs up.

“I’ll put the tray on the blanket, okay? You give Mama the card, and I’ll do Mommy’s.” That’s Everlynn. She’s got the bossy, big-sister energy on lock.

I feel a small hand press something against my arm.

The smell of pancakes is stronger now.

“Okay,” Hunter whispers proudly, “one… two… three…”

“MOMMY! MAMA!” both of them shout at once, and Paige practically jolts up behind me, nearly smacking foreheads with me in the process.

“What the—?” she mumbles, eyes squinting open. Then her whole face softens as she takes in the sight at the foot of the bed.

Two kids beaming.

A very wobbly tray holding two pancakes shaped—sort of—like hearts.

A mug that says Best Moms Ever, clearly a DIY job with paint smudges. And two handmade cards written in glitter glue and magic marker.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” they yell again, louder this time.

Paige lets out a sleepy laugh, hand going to her heart. “No way you guys did all this on your own.”

“We had help,” Everlynn says proudly, puffing her chest a little. “Titi Azzi and Titi Caroline came super early and snuck in the back door. We made breakfast and cleaned and—”

“I cut the bananas!” Hunter interrupts, clearly his proudest contribution.

“You did,” Azzi’s voice floats in from the hallway, and a second later, she’s peeking into the room with a big smile and an iPhone in hand, clearly ready to document the whole thing.

“Titi’s babies made a whole breakfast operation this morning.”

Caroline follows her in, holding a juice box and sipping it like a mimosa. “I was the sous chef-slash-chaos manager. But it was all their idea.”

I sit up slowly, still half-swaddled in Paige’s arms, my voice thick with emotion. “You guys… really did this for us?”

Everlynn nods solemnly. “Because you’re the best mommies in the world.”

Hunter climbs into Paige’s lap like it’s his designated throne, snuggling into her chest.

“And because we love you. And we made you pancakes shaped like love.”

Paige laughs into his hair. “Shaped like love, huh?”

“They’re a little… creative,” Caroline says delicately, eyeing the tray.

“Hey, at least the kitchen is still standing,” Azzi teases, slipping around to the far side of the bed.

She sets down her phone and tucks her legs under her. “Can we stay while you open your cards? The kids are really proud.”

“Of course,” I say, reaching for the glittery construction paper.

Mine has my name written across it in huge bubble letters: MAMA Y/N. The inside is filled with little hearts, a stick-figure drawing of me holding hands with both kids, and a poem that makes my throat close up.

Roses are red, pancakes are sweet,

You’re the best mama and can’t be beat!

You read me stories and braid my hair,

And snuggle with me in the rocking chair.

Love, Everlynn & Hunter (but mostly me, I wrote it)

I laugh, wiping my eyes as I look at them. “This is… this is beautiful.”

“You didn’t even get to the glitter stickers,” Everlynn says, pointing. “Look at the unicorn! That’s you.”

“Unicorn?” I tilt my head.

“Because you’re magical!” she says, like it’s obvious.

Paige opens hers next.

Her card is covered in basketballs and smiley faces, with a big HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY MOMMY scrawled across the top. Inside is a drawing of her dunking a ball—with a superhero cape on.

“I made you Super Mommy,” Hunter explains. “Because you play basketball and save people.”

Azzi nudges him. “Like a real-life hero, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods proudly, curling deeper into Paige’s arms.

Paige’s voice cracks a little when she says, “Best card I’ve ever gotten, buddy.”

“Can we eat the pancakes now?” Everlyee asks, practically bouncing.

“Only if you sit up here and eat with us,” I say, holding out an arm.

She scrambles in beside me and rests her head on my shoulder.

Azzi and Caroline start divvying up the plates, handing us all pieces of the slightly lumpy but delicious-smelling pancakes.

Caroline slips me a bottle of whipped cream like we’re passing secret contraband. I shoot her a grateful grin.

“Okay but wait,” Azzi says, snapping another photo, “this lighting is too cute. Everlyee, smile. Hunter, say syrup.”

“Syrup!” he yells with a mouth full of pancake, and we all laugh.

An hour later, the tray’s been cleared, there’s syrup in the sheets, and both kids are now sprawled across our laps like satisfied cats.

Azzi and Caroline have made themselves at home on the armchair and floor, respectively, both sipping coffee from mugs Paige got made for them last Christmas that say World’s Coolest Titi.

“This,” Paige says quietly, stroking Everlynn’s hair, “might be the best Mother’s Day yet.”

I glance at her. The morning sun is hitting her just right—golden and soft. Her hair’s a little messy from sleep, her eyes tired but warm, and her smile…

“Definitely the best,” I whisper.

She catches my hand and laces our fingers together over the blanket.

“Can’t believe they’re this big already. Wasn’t it just yesterday that Hunter was learning to walk and Ever was scared of bees?”

“Still scared of bees,” Everlynn mumbles, half-asleep.

“And Hunter still walks like a baby giraffe sometimes,” Caroline adds.

“Hey!” he says from Paige’s lap, pouting.

Paige smirks and kisses the top of his head. “You walk like a superhero now, baby. You’re our little Flash.”

Azzi’s already tearing up. “You two are raising the sweetest kids. Like, it’s insane. You need to write a parenting book or something.”

“Chapter One: Let Your Best Friends Help Sneak In Before Sunrise,” I say, smirking.

“Chapter Two: Bribery via pancakes,” Caroline adds.

Hunter suddenly perks up. “Can we do this again next year?”

Paige looks down at him. “You mean surprise us with breakfast and glittery cards?”

“And bring Titi Azzi and Titi Caroline?”

“We’ll make it a tradition,” I say. “Deal?”

“Deal,” both kids say at once.

Later that afternoon, once Azzi and Caroline have gone and the kids are running around in the backyard with water balloons, I find Paige in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with that little content smile she wears when everything feels right in the world.

I wrap my arms around her from behind and rest my chin on her shoulder.

“You know,” I murmur, “there are a million things I love about being a mom. But getting to do it all with you? That’s the best part.”

She leans into me, turning her head slightly so our cheeks touch. “Right back at you, babe.”

We stay like that for a long moment, just soaking in the quiet.

Until a water balloon hits the window with a splat, followed by two giggling voices shouting, “Mommies! Come play!”

Paige grins. “They’re gonna soak us.”

I kiss her cheek. “Yeah, but they made us pancakes shaped like love. We kind of owe them.”

She grabs two towels from the counter and hands me one. “Let’s go get drenched.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[moonstruckme]

hi love! Ive been fawning over your drabbles for the past few hours (marauders girlie but ur honestly converting me into the other fandoms with ur writing).

I had a cute idea for a short poly!marauders, something involving maybe the reader and sirus being prone to getting sunburnt easily? (I hope this makes sense 😞) Where Remus and James tease the two of them but quiet down when they (reader/sirus) threaten not to put sunblock on for them (who would pass on that offer). Maybe a beach day?

Thank you lovely!

cw: reader is implied to have pale/light skin

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 745 words

“Hold your breath, lovie.” 

You pinch your eyes and mouth shut in anticipation, and still a small sound escapes you at the chilly spray hitting your back. 

“Fuck, that’s cold,” you hiss, and James chuckles as he sets the can of sunscreen down, rubbing it in with his hands. 

“You need it.” Remus’ tone is amused. He takes the sunscreen to give Sirius’ back the same treatment, ignoring your boyfriend’s shrill cursing. “You both do.”

“I don’t know, do they?” James asks, and you can hear the mischief in his voice as his fingers slip under the tie-string of your bikini top to get the sunscreen in there. “I think they may just refract the sunlight rather than soak it in. Look at them, they’re gleaming.” 

“Fuck off,” Sirius grumbles. 

“You may be right,” Remus says. A little smile plays on his lips as his hands move over Sirius’ shoulders. “I think if they walked about twenty meters off, I wouldn’t be able to tell either of them from the sand.” 

“Moony, be fair,” James chides lightly. “We’d be able to see ‘em. They’re definitely lighter than the sand.” 

“Alright.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “We get it, we’re pale. You’re hilarious.” 

James’ hand snakes down, giving your bum a playful squeeze as he leans around you for a kiss. You give in much too easily for Sirius, who groans in protest as you close your eyes and relax into James’ embrace. He breaks the kiss after a few seconds, taking the sun lotion in hand and beginning to apply it to your face with loving, pacifying touches. 

“Turn around, love,” Remus says. 

“Oh, so you get to ridicule me and then I’m supposed to be obedient?” asks Sirius haughtily. 

“Mhm.” 

“Well, I don’t think—” 

Remus picks the can of sunscreen back up, spraying it on the back of Sirius’ neck. He yelps, turning, and Remus pushes him down onto a folding chair. 

“There we are.” He crouches in front of his boyfriend, smearing sun lotion on his reddening face with the tolerant manner of a patient schoolteacher. “Oi, James, d’you think that if we got stranded at sea, one of these two might work as a beacon?” 

“Oh, absolutely.” You see the delighted scrunch of James’ nose when you glower, his thumb rubbing carefully under your eye. “We shouldn’t even bother with flares, they won’t be half as effective. Actually, if we take the sunscreen off them now, they’ll probably get red enough to attract the eye for miles.” 

Sirius huffs, but you give your boyfriends an appraising look. 

“So what I’m hearing,” you say slowly, “is that we need sunscreen and you don’t.”

Remus sends a small smile your way. “Basically, yes.” 

“S’not as essential for those of us with blood in our veins, lovie,” James agrees. 

“That’s too bad,” you tsk. “I guess you won’t be needing our help with it, then.” 

You look over at Sirius, and he grins, realizing what you’re about. 

“Yeah, seems like we’re off the hook, doesn’t it?” He smizes up at Remus, who frowns back at him. “They’re sort of missing out, the massage isn’t half bad.” 

James’ hands still on your face. “Is that a threat?” he asks amusedly. 

You shrug. “It’s an incentive.” 

“You realize we could just leave you like this,” Remus points out. “You could spend all day under the umbrella while James and I get to enjoy the sun.” 

“I’m perfectly capable of lotioning my own ass,” you say, and James’ eyes dip almost regretfully to the parts of you he hasn’t gotten to yet. “Or, I wouldn’t mind helping you finish up, Siri. Would that work for you?” 

Sirius grins sharply, ignoring where Remus sits in front of him and patting his lap twice. “Get over here, gorgeous.” 

You start that way, but James’ lotion-slicked hands catch at your waist, preventing you from getting far. You grin up at him, expectant. 

“Alright, point made.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Sirius wouldn’t do half as good a job with you as I am anyway, so I’ll finish you up, then you do me. Fair?” 

You glance at Sirius, who exchanges a look with Remus before nodding back at you. 

“Fair,” you say. “I meant what I said, though. I’ll be doing my ass myself.” 

James’ face falls, and Sirius cackles loud enough that Remus looks around you in embarrassment. 

“Shouldn’t’ve made fun of her, Jamesie. Our actions have consequences.” 

[amaranthine-apollo]

i was wondering if you could do some sort of jinx x reader in which the reader somehow gets hurt and possibly dies due to the injury infront of jinx?? (sorry im not specific and im a sucker for angst lol)

thanks!

“ᴛɪʟʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴅᴏ ᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ”- ᴊɪɴx

-——————————𒅌——————————-

•How Jinx would react to her lovers sudden death and the effects it would have on her- {GN reader}

Fandom: Arcane

Genre: Angst/ Bullet points

Warning(s): Death, violence, gore, self harm

-——————————𒅌——————————-

⌖ Immediately she freezes in her tracks whilst all hell continues to break out around her. Time does not stop for her as she stares at your corpse, gunshot wounds inflicted by the guns enforcers wield littering your body with holes that weeped copious amounts of blood. It’s like the gears in her mind stop and her own legs nearly give in at the sight until the weight of someone crashing into her side snaps her out of her disbelief. And as the chaos goes on her first action is to rush over to your body, frantically struggling to pick you up while signaling towards Sevika to guard her as she rushes you back into Zaun.

⌖ All of her previous plans are eradicated from her mind as she runs through the narrow alleyways back to where she hides out a majority of the time. There was no time for her to call for help so that maybe you’d have a sliver of a chance of saliva. No, she could feel just how frigid your skin had become the moment she’d picked you up. You were dead on the spot, and you had the wounds on your chest and sides to prove that.

⌖ She’s hyperventilating as she clutches onto your stained clothes with a desperation she hasn’t felt in a while. The fabric is damp with crimson and when she bunches it up within her fists your blood is what flows out and drips onto the flooring. And as her eyes wearily drop downward to stare at her bloodied hands she finally lets out a guttural, broken scream. Next thing she knows she sobbing against your neck, blubbering out incoherent apologies against your skin until her voice is going hoarse.

⌖ She lays there with your body in her arms for hours upon hours, even after her voice gives away and her heart stops pounding painfully against her ribs. She simply cradles you in her hold, subconsciously petting your hair as her mind plays back the events leading to your death in her head over and over like a broken record.

⌖ After she pries herself away from you she begins to get your body ready to lay down to rest. Her hands are still trembling violently despite how she seems calmer now on the outside. Tears well up in the corners of her eyes that threaten to spill whenever she blinks but she tries her hardest to not break down again. If not for her own sake then for yours. She grabs various items of yours: some clothing, jewelry, and other trinkets belonging to you. She adorns your body with some of your necklaces and rings and shrugs on the jacket she crafted you herself by hand onto your shoulders. The rest of the things she’s gotten lay on your chest as she secured them with a piece of fabric so that they wouldn’t slip off.

⌖ Your burial is nothing special admittedly; but then again how would it be in Zaun? Whilst the filthy rich over in Piltover bury their loved ones in casket’s gloriously crafted with a tombstone where they lay the blue haired girl is left to place your corpse in one of the spots you and her would frequently visited or was your favorite and just.. place you there. If your death is after Silco’s and you had a strong enough bond with the man she may dip you into the very same water she’d taken Silco to.

⌖ Jinx’s hallucinations only worsen, especially on holidays you used to celebrate with her or towards certain anniversaries like when you both first got together and so on. It gets to a point to where it cripples her mentally and she finds herself in a deep depression that she struggles to get out of. All she sees and hears is you in front of her, berating and belittling her for doing this to you- for causing your death. Your lifeless eyes digging into her with such a hatred she ends up on the ground in a fetal position with her nails clawing deep red lines into her arms until she’s bleeding.

⌖ Her hatred towards Piltover spirals only further as a result of your absence and after staying hidden drowning in her own sorrows she’s planning attack after attack on them. It’s like a suicide mission more times than not with how violent her schemes get, and a part of her isn’t against the fact she may die fighting. She feels a sense of pride at the damage she causes, knowing that shes taking from the very people who stole everything from her.

⌖ Sevika often sees her struggle and after a while she suggests for her to get something made in your name to lessen how much your death still affects her mentally. So, she gives herself a tattoo that was symbolic of you. It’s right on her chest where her heart is, and sometimes when shes by herself she’ll run her hand over it and imagine it’s you she’s running her hand over. Your clothes are apart of hers now, taking a few of the rugged pieces to sew together on her own clothes in patches. She’ll also make a doll resembling you with two buttons the same color of your eyes. All of these things are what hold her together, and even though she’ll never get over your death and the love she felt towards you she’ll be damned if the memory of you ever dies.

[azumasoroshi]

losing my fucking mind over amalgamate

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34729489/chapters/86472166 it wont embed properly but woe amalgamate link be upon you. read this fic now (by @amalgamateofficial)

i cant believe i only found this fic because i was learning about fucking hydraulic presses in physics and it made me want to lightly skim the drv3 fandom again. like i wasnt planning on getting back into it and i was just gonna read like 2 fics and then dip

and then i happened to read the 'who the fuck is junko enoshima' fic and i was like oh i like this dynamic! platonic or romantic this is FUNNY

like there's something so addicting about two motherfuckers that hate each other (but hate the killing game more) intending to sort of kill each other (in short) but due to Last Minute Complications instead being stuck inside a robot made for one person trying to confuse people into thinking they killed each other while also being half poisoned and half delirious. like only in fucking danganronpa could this ever be a scenario HAHA

there was a reason i loved the fifth trial back in my drv3 phase at vaguely some point in high school the most...i was so mad that shuichi solved it anyway and didnt catch on until the very end and i was like aughhhh this is so stupid

but looking back on it now it's really just a by the books tragedy of character because kaito encouraged shuichi to pursue the truth no matter what!!! so of course a plan hinging on shuichi not figuring out the whole truth would be doomed from the start (and it being implied that kokichi had been planning to use shuichi instead of kaito for the plan...oof)

like imagine kaito panicking in the robot all alone frantically flipping through the pages and being torn between being SO proud of shuichi and SO scared that kokichi's death will have been for nothing, all while ACTIVELY COUGHING UP BLOOD AND DYING and having been POISONED and SHOT and stuck in bathroom

what a chad...

anyway this fic is just hands down the best fucking execution of the death bestie hangar that i've ever FUCKING seen and i literally spent all of yesterday searching up 'exisal hangar' and finding every fucking fic i could

i was rambling about it this morning because i spent like from 10pm to 6am doing literally nothing but reading and i had class at 8 so when i woke up at 7 i was absolutely losing it

like. you need to understand the process of reading this fic was one of THE MOST stressful experiences ive ever had reading ANYTHING. ive mentioned in other posts that ill like gasp or grab my chest victorian style if im shocked enough but with this one i was straight up panting for breath like my heart was beating SO fast

as a fellow writer i am NOT very good at maintaining tension throughout the story so to see it done so masterfully over the course of 470k words is just absolutely insane to me!! like it's never so much that i glazed out or had to walk away, i always always always needed to get straight back to reading

this was like. if you know me you know that april 23rd (shizaya fanfic) absolutely crushed my soul and i consider it one of the best tragedies ive ever read but i would never want to read it again for my own sanity. this is like. the opposite??? it turned this tragedy that already made me sad into this DESPERATE, clawing fight to make it NOT a tragedy and i think that really moved me more than anything

i really didn't know if they were going to survive by the end. i didn't know how closely the story adhered to canon, i only rewatched the main points of case 5 in canon but i didn't remember a single thing that happened afterwards other than tsumugi doing her whole evil cosplay shtick and that fact made me SO unbelievably stressed out for everyone!! i didnt know about the flashback lights or anything, and the exceedingly clever way the author utilized them to probably even greater effect in amalgamate honestly killed me

and oh my god the characterization. kokichi, kaito, maki, shuichi, hell i dont even like himiko but they were all done SO well, and even tsumugi i found myself interested in because well maybe the author decided to change up the canon and make her NOT the mastermind right??? i think the playing with expectations worked really well because at some points you couldnt be sure if the fic really would stick to canon or not

i cant believe a dr fic made me like himiko how could you do this to me i disliked her even before joseph anderson

but yeah not only were the characterizations amazing but their relationships as well were so nuanced and complex but they all made sense!!! i the new ones forged by their new situation felt really well earned due to how well they were developed and contextualized within the story in spite of prior events and just aughghhghgsh. kokichi and kaito especially, obviously, their relationship is just masterfully developed from where they started in canon to the end. maki really really shined as a character and like i kinda passively liked her in canon like she was alright but she really really shines in this fic, and SHUICHI oh my god he's so well done

i adore the fact that kaito is the protagonist view instead of shuichi (although the amalgamate oneshot from shuichi's pov is also very good and you should read it) because kaito has such an interesting perspective and like he's the Guardian, the Support, the Hero, the Mentor but the way the author really pulls him apart and flays open all his weaknesses and bluffing and insecurities amazes me!! he's NOT the analyst, he doesn't immediately understand every hint kokichi gives him which honestly sent my stress levels through the roof but knowing kokichi had enough faith in him to give those signals to HIM is just. augh. he and kokichi are just these broken battered beasts of determination throughout the fic (fitting, since the title is an undertale reference) that i really can't help but admire

(spoilers under the cut) but yeah you should read this if you havent and even remotely like the case 5+ cast. preferably not in one 8 hour sitting though like stand up drink water or something relax your sympathetic nervous system lmfao

like. i can't stop thinking about it. the moment i woke up in a cold sweat (after having some vague killing game related dream) i was like holy shit i need to make sure kokichi's alive (i stopped halfway through chapter 20) and i KNEW he was in a coma and i KNOW from the author's notes that the story is supposed to end happily but as i was going to the bus stop it felt like my head was spinning and i just couldn't get it out of my head like what if it's all a lie what if Kokichi is going to die what if he doesn't survive and like. jesus. maybe it was the one hour of sleep but i was so scared

because it was a KILLING GAME because it's hope and despair and maybe everyone is actually secretly out to get you and all of this is recorded and it's just. maybe it's the sleep deprivation but the ability to send the audience themselves into a mental state at least slightly similar to the characters is just insane to me

i am a very analytic reader!!! im like lol look at this trope being used, ooh that dialogue conveyed the emotion very effectively, ooh that was definitely foreshadowing of some sort, wow that sure is a convenient plot device, ooh that's an interesting incitement of conflict they used right there and because of it i tend not to get too emotionally invested in whatever i'm reading because i think from the writer's perspective. NOT THIS FIC I WAS ALONG FOR THE RIDE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE and i had NO idea what was going to happen and it scared the SHIT out of me because i wanted everyone to live so so badly but i didnt know which characters to really trust and that again is another layer of putting you in the character's shoes and it's so SMART UGH

oh and before i forget. i didnt even remember what happened in case 4 either. but gonta and miu continually being brought up and having such a tangible presence in the story was SO GOOD i love CONSEQUENCES

anyway yeah here are my initial thoughts that i managed to cobble together mostly into this post yahoo

i will be drawing fanart out of respect and a mild obsession. author if you see this i am on my hands and knees your writing is so good thank you for this experience

[yayakoishii]

hi! could i request for fluff and comfort with ace? there was this one reddit post i saw abt a guy who rambled abt being so grateful and happy that he's loved by his girlfriend, and the post described how he felt that way when they were having a bath together (nonsexual, i promise! feel free to look the reddit post up). i thought the prompt suited ace so much, esp since the guy in that reddit post mentioned that he cried out of happiness, so maybe smth like this with ace x fem!reader?

ofc, feel free to skip if it makes u uncomfy ^^

~ ♠️ anon

shower me in your love | Ace x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warning(s): Nudity (non-sexual)

A/n: I loved this idea so much anon, I was so excited to write it for so long TT but post-exam creativity block really hit hard so this is a bit later than I had hoped to put out. Also, you asked for fem!reader but I think this fic never specified any body parts or pronouns at any point, so it ended up gender neutral haha... This is my first time attempting to write Ace, so please forgive any oocness ><

Please do not ask me the mechanics of a bathtub on a pirate ship and let's just pretend that can work out because the sea is on my side, 'kay? I hope you enjoy ♡ and thank you for the request!

also available on ao3!

The sun had dipped beneath the horizon but the sky was still clinging onto a fading orange. Above him, it was already starting to look like a dark midnight blue mixing into violet. Ace's shoulders slouched, the tension seeping out as he made his way to his sleeping quarters. The day had been hectic, and even the usually energised division commander was feeling a bit exhausted.

Ace couldn't wait to drop into his bed and fall asleep but the plan went out the window when he opened his door to find you sitting on his bed, your back to him.

"Hey," he called out, making you snap your neck around. Just the sight of your bright smile got a little more tension out of him. You bounced up to him, hands immediately coming up to cradle his face. You pulled him into a soft kiss and Ace exhaled slowly, pressing his body into your own soft one.

Out of the two of you, Ace was definitely the one with the higher body temperature but somehow, when you hugged, he couldn't help but feel that you were more… warmer. It was a different sort of warmth than physical– more emotional, he supposed. You felt a little bit like coming home, like coming to a fireplace after a day out in the snow.

"Hey," you said quietly, pulling back just enough to admire his face. He didn't have to say anything; he could see the understanding on your face with just one glance. "It's been an exhausting day, huh?"

"Mm," he didn't feel like talking about it, instead opting to drop his head on your shoulder. Ace pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, taking the familiar light scent of you. You giggled at the sensation, playfully pushing him without any real strength to it.

"That tickles!"

"You smell amazing," he whispered. You blushed, pushing at him with a bit more strength now.

"I'm sweaty, what do you mean?" You huffed out another short laugh. "And so are you, mister. C'mon, how about a nice hot bath, hm? I already set it up for the both of us while waiting."

Ace finally pulled away, looking at you with the softest expression. This time, he was the one to cradle your face in his hands. Pressing a light kiss on your forehead, he murmured a quiet admission of love. Gentle hands guided him toward the bathroom, shutting the doors behind him. Ace stood there as you removed his clothes and accessories with somewhat practised hands. When the both of you were undressed, you pulled him into the bathtub and sat down in between his legs.

This close, you could feel that Ace was running warmer than even the hot water around you. He quickly pressed a peck on the tip of your nose to surprise you, then grabbed the bottle of shampoo and soap to start but you stopped him. You took the shampoo out of his hands and smiled warmly when he looked at you with curiosity.

"How about I wash you today?" There was a hint of shyness in your voice, along with a sparkling in your eyes. Ace just nodded dumbfoundedly, watching you carefully squeeze out some of the shampoo into your hands. "Alright, stay still, I'll go sit behind you."

You stood up, the water splashing a bit as you carefully manoeuvred around to sit on the edge of the tub that was attached to the wall. Ace let your free hand guide his frame in between your legs and waited for a few seconds.

The moment your shampoo lathered finger dipped into his hair, he felt boneless. You weren't even doing much, just carding your fingers and working out the tangles as you ensured that the shampoo properly washed the roots and the tips, but it felt so good.

Ace couldn't really remember the last time someone touched him with such gentleness, such care and love. (He couldn't even remember who would have touched him like that the last time. Was it his mother?) You hummed a song he had heard you singing in passing, as you pressed your fingers into his scalp for a slight massage.

Another shaky exhale left his mouth along with the last remaining tension in his shoulders. Ace closed his eyes. With a soft hum, he pressed his head back into your stomach, heart singing at the sound of your giggle echoing in the small bathroom.

"Hey!" You said indignantly, pushing at his foam covered head. "Don't put your shampoo on my stomach."

It made Ace smile and he obliged, leaning his head away. You didn't touch him for a few minutes and he cracked his eyes open to look around at you, to find that you were shampooing your own hair now. You slid down into the tub and he made some space between the wall and him so you could sit properly. Once you were done, you wiped off the foam on your hand and switched to the soap.

"Alright, c'mere, my big baby," you grunted, trying to pull him by his arm. He blinked then let you pull him into the position you wanted. And then you are sitting in his lap, soap being lathered onto his skin with diligent hands. He didn't say anything and just stared quietly at you from the close proximity.

Normally, having you in his lap would get him a little… excited, but today, the action was so non-sexual and domestic, it seemed to hurt. Every movement and word you had said felt mind-numbingly relaxing. Half a year ago, if someone had suggested he would be in this position with you, he would have laughed and called them to get their marbles checked.

Right now though, he couldn't believe his own luck as your fingers dragged over him with a gentleness he had yet to experience from elsewhere. He was strong. Everyone knew that. You knew that. But even knowing that, you always touched him so softly, so gently, that it made him feel like he was made out of fragile brittle glass.

He kinda liked it.

To be vulnerable in front of you only was something he could agree to. No one had ever been this patient and loving towards him, and the fact that he loved you too much to even put it into words crashed around inside him as he watched you soap yourself up.

You were beautiful, obviously. He had to be blind to not notice how gorgeous you were. But sometimes, he couldn't help but think that your real beauty lies in how you just fit in with everyone so well. You were understanding, you were kind and you were there whenever anyone needed you. You were there when Ace needed you. And even though you were there for him, silently understanding what he needed, you never expected anything back for it. It was purely an act of love.

He wasn't talking much like usual today, but you didn't say anything about it. You only continued in your actions, washing away the soap and the shampoo with the water. Ace continued to stare at you, wondering if you were really real.

You were so good to him. He remembered when Marco had mentioned after you announced your relationship that you were good for him. He hadn't really understood the depth of that sentence until now. Until this moment, sitting in his bathtub that was definitely not made for two people, as you washed him even though he was a grown adult who could do it himself.

And it wasn't really about the ability to do it, was it? It was more about the feelings and the thoughts behind the action– it was about the care you felt. Of course you knew he could do it– but you wanted to do it for him anyway because you loved him.

You loved him so much, he couldn't help but feel thoroughly loved and blessed. You, who could have fallen in love with anyone, had fallen in love with him. On his down days, he couldn't help but think that you deserved better than him. Right now though, he couldn't think of anything else but the fact that he was so grateful that you chose him out of everyone.

Whatever made you choose him– he would forever be grateful to it. You were the best thing to happen to him.

"Ace?" Your concerned voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked at you. You were done cleaning off both of you, but you were back in his lap. Familiar hands came up to wipe away what Ace realised were tears streaming down his face. He felt a little mortified that he cried over something so small but, like always, it was like you could read his mind. "It's not insignificant if it makes you feel something so strong. Just let it out, hm?"

He didn't really need your 'permission', but the moment you said that, his body seemed to take it as the cue to cry even more. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt you guide his face into the crook of your neck– you knew he felt embarrassed about crying in front of you. You just did it to let him save face; you let him hide his face in your embrace.

Ace sobbed into your neck, body shaking as he felt your fingers card through his hair and draw hearts into his back, over his tattoo. The two of you stayed like that for a while until the tears finally stopped.

"Let's dry up?" Your eyes were soft as you helped him stand up and out of the bathtub. "And then we can cuddle in bed all night. How does that sound?"

You didn't need to say it out loud to let him know how you felt. Ace watched you wrap a towel around him and then yourself, the unspoken words lingering in the air alongside the steam.

"Sounds amazing."

I love you too.

°•❀•°

all likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

★ Taglist for Ace:

@toertchen | @boomboom-tanjiro2019 | @katiemrty | @writingmysanity | @akaashi-todorki

let me know if you want to be added/removed!

[tarithenurse]

Bubbly

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing/starring: Geto Suguru x fem!reader Word count: 1885. Content: Slight jealousy, smut, drinking, slightly drunk smut. A/N: I thought he deserved some attention? I don’t know. Don’t sue me.

Bubbly

You’re drunk. Not overly so but the sweet, bubbly wine has gone to your head, making you dizzy and bold. Your body sways to the music, hips tilting first this way and that and you know that many eyes are upon you and for once you don’t mind even one bit. Let them watch! You’re young and gorgeous. You grin to yourself, a grin that turns devilish when someone from behind grabs your hips with their large hands and you know instinctively who it is.

“People are staring,” Suguru’s smooth voice curls into your ear.

You lean back, reach for his neck and tangle your fingers in his long, silken hair. “So? I don’t mind.”

Dipping his head to nibble beneath your ear, he growls softly. “I do.”

Somehow, you manage to turn in his arms although you do have to take a moment to position his hands on your ass where you want them.

“Jealous?” You look up at him.

He doesn’t have the same amused smile on his lips as you do and it causes your thrill to falter.

“Jealous is not the right word,” Suguru explains, “that would mean they have something I don’t while it’s quite the other way around.” Finally the grin wins as he scoops you up in his arms. “I’ve got you. You’re mine. Just mine. I don’t like them ogling you that way.”

Resolutely, he slings you over a shoulder and carries you off. You aren’t sure where to – you don’t know the place. In fact you didn’t even know that he had a claim to you because as far as you’ve been concerned you were only friends who teased each other but hey: who are you to complain.

Landing on something soft with and oof, you’re slow at reorienting yourself because the place is spinning gently, sort of lulling you until you feel whatever you’re on jostle. It must be a bed, you decide, sitting up to see Suguru who has busied himself with getting the shoes off you.

“Are you going to continue after that?” you ask almost innocently, causing his hands to still for a moment.

“I think...you’re too drunk to know what you’re asking...”

“Am not,” you protest. Something inside you is telling you to shut up, but now you’ve started and you have to know: “Don’t you like me, Sugu?”

He turns to face you, something untraceable in his eyes as he takes you in. “I like you,” he admits carefully.

“Good,” you smile, a hand reaching to play with a lose strand of his hair, “’cause I like you too.”

“Yeah...we’re friends,” he points out.

You roll your eyes. “Friends don’t get jealous when other people stare at their friend. They are proud and become wingmen or whatever. You like me diffe-”

He’s pushed you back into the pillows before you realize, lips hard on yours as he suddenly straddles you.

Then he pulls back, watches you anxiously as your tongue darts out to taste your lips where you’d met. He sees the dreamy smile erupt on your face and the way your eyes squint when you’re really happy. Only then does he breathe again. It’s a sigh of relief and it’s cut short as you grab him by the collar and pull him down for a new kiss.

He tastes a bit of stale cigarette but thankfully it’s overpowered by something else. Chocolate? You aren’t sure and right now it doesn’t matter because instead of being the sensible one that he always is, he is kissing you back, a hand wandering up from your waist to cup you breast through the dress while the other one comes to rest behind your head. Sighing, Suguru lets his tongue sweep into your mouth to carefully probe at yours.

His thumbs is rubbing at your nipple through the fabric and you arch your back slightly. Fingers tangle in his long hair, not caring that you’re pulling strands free of his half-bun but rather focusing only on keeping him as close as you can.

One of your hands moves along his shoulder and back, reaching the waistline of his trousers which it follows to the front. There, it’s a small leap to find the straining bulge and cup it, feeling the outline of his cock through the rough but pliable fabric of the trousers.

“Damnit,” Suguru growls, rutting slightly into your palm.

It’s easy to loosen the trousers and slip a hand in. Eagerly grasping his erection, you moan into his mouth as your pussy clenches around nothing. He is heavy in your hand even as you carefully maneuver his cock so it’s straight with the exception of the slight curve upwards it apparently naturally has. Reaching further, you fondle his balls, feeling them tighten in your grasp.

But then he pulls back, out of reach which makes you whine and grasp for him getting nothing but air and the soft strands of hair until he straightens up too.

Looking up at him in the dimly lit room, you can see how blown his pupils are and how his chest is rising and falling rapidly. Slowly (or at least it feels too slow), he unbuttons his lose shirt to reveal his chiselled form.

Mirroring his actions, your reach for the zipper going all the way down the front of your tight dress. You watch him – still, enraptured – as more and more skin is revealed with each inch you move the zipper down.

You’ve reached the bellybutton by the time he loses patience and swats your hand away. In a swift move, Suguru opens the rest, pushing the fabric aside to greedily let his hands roam your body, sliding along the edges of your lingerie and causing your skin to pucker.

With a groan, he buries his head in your cleavage, inhaling deeply before lavishing your breasts with kisses and little bites. Pulling at the cups of your bra, he manages to free each boob somewhat, greedily greeting the perky nipples but he’s soon dissatisfied. Wanting more, Suguru pulls you up, sliding the dress down your arms and unfastening the bra with only a bit of fumbling.

You’re not sitting idly. Fingertips explore the planes of his physique before starting to pull his trousers down as far as you can reach when he constantly needs your arms in different places in order to undress you. But he gets the point and as he pushes you back onto the bed, he shimmies the trousers and boxers off, allowing you to take him in fully.

He’s gorgeous. You knew that already but to see him standing there at the foot of the bed in all his naked glory? It makes your heart skip a beat.

Suguru crawls up the bed, taking up position between your knees. Large hands glide up your thighs to the apex where he casually and tortuously slides his thumbs under your panties to feel along your folds and spread the juices there. He’s smirking.

“You want more?” he asks, causing you to nod frantically.

Grabbing the panties, he pulls them resolutely down your legs without breaking eye contact. He sits up on his haunches, gathers his long hair and ties it together with the use of the panties. Then, and only then, does he lower his gaze to your pussy, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Fuck,” he groans, palming himself almost absentmindedly, “looks even better than I imagined.”

Pushing your knees to the side, Suguru bends down and licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, causing your back to arch and your nails to dig into the sheets.

He’s good. He quickly learns exactly when he needs to suckle and nibble and when he needs to flick your clit with the tip of his tongue which he sometimes presses as far into you as he can, lapping up the juices as they are overflowing. Then a finger joins, reaching deeper yet and curling in just the right way so you let a loud moan slip free, no longer caring who might hear on the other side of the door.

You’re done for when he inserts not just one extra finger, but two. Slowly wiggling them in, stretching you while sucking and licking your clit until you forget how to breathe. You’re so close to bursting and he must sense it too because you can feel his smile on your lower lips just before he withdraws his fingers and pulls away, leaving you wanting.

Kissing his way up your body, he eventually reaches a point where his mouth meets yours and his cock nudges your folds. With a hand, he guides his erection along your slit, spreading your juices onto it before Suguru aligns with your entrance.

“You sure?” he asks, voice husky.

“Yes.”

And with that he slides in.

He is slow. He has to be because even with the preparation, you’re hardly ready for his size. Inch by inch, he fills you up. Splitting you, it seems. But it feels so good and you’re clinging on to him with arms and legs, pulling him deeper every time he rocks forward. And when you eventually can’t take any more and Suguru pauses to let you get used to it, you’re both out of breath.

You can feel his cock throb inside you. Can feel his hot breath in the crook of your neck and the way his fingertips dig into your flesh. And you want more.

“Please,” you manage to whisper.

He sets a brisk but steady pace. Each thrust rubs along the right spot inside of you and find yourself tightening impossibly around him as the tension grows which causes his hips to stutter for a moment as he has to get used to the feeling.

The sounds are sinful: skin slapping, juices squelching, moans and groans.

Suguru’s mouth is anywhere he can reach though always seeking back to either your lips or the crook of your neck.

As he displaces his weight, a large hand snakes between your bodies, thumb pressing down on your clit which sends a jolt of ecstasy through you...a jolt that’s reformed into a steady current as he rubs tight circles on it.

You friend – your lover – thrusts deeper and harder, causing the tension to built to the point where all you can do is whine his name before it all snaps and you tumble over the edge.

You’re vaguely aware of him suddenly pulling out, leaving you to flutter with your cunt around nothing. Suguru grunts and when you manage to open your eyes a little bit, you see him coming onto the expanse of your belly.

Slowly, his thumb relents, allowing you to come down from your high together with him as he hangs his head, exhausted like you.

“I’ll find something to clean you with,” he rasps but you’re too far gone to really reply anything.

You just miss him while he’s gone to goodness knows where. Thankfully he’s back soon with a wet washcloth which he uses to clean up his mess while kissing every inch of skin he’s wiped.

“I’ll make sure to have a condom next time,” he mutters, finally catching your gaze.

A smirk plays along your lips. “How quick can you get one?”

[panlight]

Does anyone else remember when breaking dawn book came out the fans criticized it, and meyer kept retconning her words in every single interview? she stated one thing then she would say something else. There was a person who made a petition about a letter to her about breaking dawn and her brother seth gave a very rude response. Fans of twilight (I myself just realized this) need to realized the twilight books are about the author stephaine meyer herself. it's meyer's dream, she is bella cullen, edward is her dream man and renesmee is her dream baby girl she never got. the whole twilight saga franchise of the novels are written for her, not the fans as she stated before in a interview (when she said that i was shocked).

what are your thoughts on this?

I was around for the Breaking Dawn controversy. I wasn't as invested in the fandom at the time, just sort of dipping my toe in, so it was more that I was watching it from the outside than being really involved myself, but yeah it was a lot. A lot of people really hated Breaking Dawn, and one of the sticking points was that the fandom felt like SM had shut down any possibility of Edward and Bella having kids with her answers about vampire reproduction, so for her to do this surprise twist of like, "haha I didn't say a vampire couldn't have kids with a human!" went over like a lead balloon. A lot of people felt lied to, even if SM didn't technically lie. Misled, at least.

I vaguely remember the petition to the brother (who managed her website at the time), and I also remember some leaks a few days before the book came out and everyone trying to figure out who Nessie was and what the name could be short for, and people guessed Agnes because it meant lamb and people complained about what a terrible name Agnes was (oh you sweet summer children!).

As I said, I wasn't super invested at the time. I had read the other three books but I had read them as part of a marathon read of vampire books, so it wasn't that I was into Twilight specifically, more vampires generally, but I spent quite a bit of time reading through Amazon reviews because some of them were so funny. I waited for the book to be available at the library before I read it, though. I wasn't in a place of "you ruined my favorite thing!" it was more like, haha wow this is weird!

And like, I get it. At the end of the day, SM wrote this for herself because she had a cool dream. She's a mom and a wife and that's the world she knows and the "happily ever after" she wanted for her story. But Breaking Dawn just kind of laid all the weirdness of the other books bare. Things I thought were hyperbole or exaggeration I was like, "oh wait, that was all literal this whole time? Wild." And everything that bugged me about Bella being the center of the universe who everyone fell all over themselves to help and protect and comfort and reassure (and if they didn't, they were Bad) was taken to the next level with everyone's instant devotion to Renesmee, who I personally found uncanny and soulless as written rather than cute and endearing.

I found it interesting how SM misjudged how a large portion of the fandom would feel about Renesmee, and especially Jacob's imprint on her. It's like she didn't understand Team Jacob at all if she thought they'd be happy with this. I remember following someone's recap and they got to a point where they were like "ugh are Jacob and Leah going to be a thing? That's so predictable" and then read them epically freak out when the imprint on Nessie happened and they were like "I take it back! Give me Jacob and Leah!! Anything but this!!!" And she misjudged a segment of Team Edward too, who wanted Edward and Bella to have sexy and romantic vampire adventures rather than a kid.

She wrote the story she wanted, so much so that she fought to have a fourth book so she could include Renesmee who was in her original ending (Forever Dawn). And that's her right as an author, and you know it worked out for her, she made a ton of money from the book and movie(s). But her version of a HEA (marriage and kids) came off to some as strange in a teenage vampire romance. I remember SM explaining that the Twilight Moms seemed to get it, that nothing was sexier than your boyfriend becoming your husband and the father of your child, and it's like, cool, but these characters are teenagers so the younger readers who related to them weren't expecting this yet.

[darl-ingfics]

Feveruary Day 3: Caught in the Rain

Fandom: ATEEZ

Sickie: Seonghwa (fever)

Caregiver(s): ATEEZ

Word Count: 1,359

Notes: There's more to this story, but I cut it where it felt natural to cut it. Maybe I'll release a part 2 in the future...

The photoshoot was supposed to be quick and easy. A luxury brand had asked KQ for ATEEZ to model for them, specifically requesting Seonghwa and Yunho. Their communication had been timely, respectful, and cooperative. The shoot was going to be Quick and Easy. That was the whole reason Hongjoong and their manager had ultimately allowed Seonghwa to go: the schedule was short and the required energy low, a perfect first engagement back after the eldest had just barely recovered from a nasty case of bronchitis. 

What actually ended up happening was neither quick, nor easy. 

The marketing associates who had previously been in contact with their managers are no where to be found on set. Instead, two company executives, clearly in the middle of some sort of power struggle, were running the show, and constantly trying to undermine one another. They nitpicked the stylist teams, unnecessarily extending the process. They kept interrupting the director of the shoot, asking the photographers ridiculous questions, touching equipment they knew nothing about, trying to chat with Seonghwa and Yunho when they were trying to listen to directions. They’d made it through a handful of pictures inside the studio before moving outside, like executive B had wanted, but by the time they got out there, the weather had stopped cooperating. A storm had begun to roll in, and while the photographers and managers pushed to go back in, both executive A and B had insisted they get the outdoor shots, assuring everyone that things would be ‘fine.’ 

They’d only been snapping pictures for thirty minutes before the downpour started. 

So now, ten minutes later, Seonghwa was sitting on a bench outside the studio, shaded somewhat from the rain under the large leaves of a tree, but still shivering from the chill of the wind against his soaking wet clothes. He wasn’t sure where Yunho or their manager were; the photographer had left him here a few minutes ago while the executives and director argued about what they wanted to do with the shoot. Seonghwa didn’t much care at this point. He was tired. He was cold. He was ready to go home. 

But he was also professional enough not to say anything until he was asked, so he simply sat shivering on his bench in the meantime. 

Seonghwa’s daze was broken when his shoulders dipped as a jacket was placed on his shoulders. He blinked up, shelling his eyes from the rain to better see Yunho. 

“No.” Shaking his head, Seonghwa began to shrug the jacket off. 

Yunho’s hands held the fabric in place. “No, yourself.” Seonghwa continued shaking his head, so Yunho kept his hands in place on his hyung’s shoulders. 

“You need your jacket,” Seonghwa insisted. 

“Not as much as you do.” Yunho shifted to sit next to Seonghwa, looping one arm around his shoulders. 

“Yunho, it’s raining. You’re all wet.”

A chuckle rumbled in the taller man’s chest. “So are you.”

Lightning flashed above their heads, a roll of thunder following lazily. Seonghwa’s head rested against Yunho’s shoulder. “I want to go home,” he said quietly. 

Yunho placed his head on top of Seonghwa’s. “Me too. This whole thing has been one big clusterfuck.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” Seonghwa warned. 

“Hyung, the closest person is more than three meters away, and there’s no way they could hear me over this rain.” 

“Still.” He paused, clearing his throat. Not quite a cough, but it made Yunho frown all the same.

“You feeling okay?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “I’m tired.”

“Me too, hyung. Me too.”

*

“Oh my god.” San threw his book to the side, standing immediately when Seonghwa and Yunho walked into the den. The rest of the group, (minus Hongjoong, who was working at the studio,) were waiting patiently for the duo to watch a movie. But this was unexpected: while Yunho and Seonghwa had already removed their jackets and shoes, they were still visibly damp. “Wait, stop, why are you all wet?” He ran over to the pair, one hand running through Yunho’s hair, the other feeling Seonghwa’s shirt. He pouted in confusion, wide puppy eyes scanning between them. “Why are you all wet?”  

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, Sannie, but it’s raining,” Yunho replied with a good-natured smile. He readjusted his arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders, tightening his hold on the older man, who had yet to stop shivering since their moment on the bench two hours before. “And our photoshoot was, surprisingly, outside.”

“It was outside?!” Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. “Did you know that?”

Seonghwa shook his head while Yunho replied with a simple, “Nope.”

“And they didn’t take you inside when the rain started?” Wooyoung clarified. 

“Not for a good 45 minutes,” Yunho answered. 

“But you’re makeup and hair and stuff?” San asked, incredulous. “They didn’t think about all that hard work going to waste?” Yunho shrugged one shoulder, shaking his head. 

“We apologized to the stylists on their behalf,” Seonghwa spoke up. “Thanked them for working so hard despite… it getting ruined. It didn’t help that the one exec kinda liked it better messed up…” His voice trailed off, his eyes wandering away to the floor. 

Wooyoung shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. I would’ve fought someone.”

“Kinda hard to fight a high-profile brand executive.” 

Wooyoung scoffed, pushing off the couch, stomping to the kitchen and back to blow off steam. San had yet to stop pouting, running a comforting hand up and down Seonghwa’s arm (the one not currently smushed against Yunho). 

“It wasn’t horrible,” Yunho added, his voice placating. “The shoot director was really kind, and had some amazing ideas. He tried to get us back inside the minute the clouds rolled in. And the stylist team? I’d go back just to work with them again.”

“Stop all this toxic positivity.” Wooyoung crossed his arms over his chest. “You can be mad at people for treating you like shit, Yunho.”

“He called them a ‘clusterfuck’ earlier,” Seonghwa supplied unhelpfully. 

Yunho nudged him. “Of course that’s what you remember.” 

“Wait, hyung, you called the a clusterfuck to their face?” Jongho asked, shock evident on his face. 

“No, of course not, we were-“ Yunho breath caught, as he pitched to the side with a loud sneeze. He shook his head after, blinking in surprise. “Shit, excuse me. Didn’t expect that one…”

“Fuck! Now you’re sick too!” Wooyoung started pacing again, threading his hands through his hair. 

“Okay, okay. Calm down, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mingi said, taking control of the situation. He pointed towards Yunho and Seonghwa. “Let’s get you two warmed up. Go hit the showers. Hwa-hyung, be honest, can you stand on your own? Cause you haven’t let go of Yuyu since you got home.” 

On a normal day, such a direct call out would invoke a demonic wrath from the eldest that few were brave enough to face. This was not a normal day. 

“I would like someone to stay with me, please,” Seonghwa admitted, voice quiet out of exhaustion rather than embarrassment. 

Mingi nodded. “Sannie, go with him please. Jongho, Woo, you guys go heat up dinner. Sangie, do something productive, I trust you.”

“You don’t trust me?” Wooyoung whined. 

“Never,” Mingi replied simultaneously with Yunho and Jongho’s emphatic, “No,” and Yeosang’s “Let me have ONE thing!”  

Amidst the chaos, San had successfully extricated Seonghwa from Yunho’s embrace, and had led their eldest down the hall. 

“Pretty sure his fever’s back,” Yunho muttered to Mingi after the bathroom door closed behind them.

Mingi shook his head. “Oh, definitely. He’s so quiet.” The rapper’s eyes turned to scan Yunho. “You better not get sick, too, mister.” 

“Mingi.” Yunho put his hands on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m fine.” 

“You better be. Go shower.” He hit Yunho’s butt playfully as the dancer turned to go. Yunho whipped back around and clumsily hit Mingi’s hip, earning a laugh from his friend.

Once Yunho’s footsteps had disappeared up the stairs, Mingi joined the group in the kitchen. 

“Hongjoong-ah’s gonna kill someone,” Wooyoung singsonged under his breath to Mingi as the taller man leaned against the counter. 

“As long as its not us, I’m not complaining.”

[firewasabeast]

I 100% agree with you that that was lazy writing. What was the point of deliberately picking someone the audience (and the 118) were familiar with to be Buck's LI when they could have picked some random. What was the point in delving into Tommy's history and his feelings, what was the point of showing him head over heels for Buck in the last ep, of getting a gift for their 6 month anniversary only to say "oh well, I figured we wouldn't last, so I'm gonna get out now before you break my heart". Why let him get that involved if Tommy's ideology was to never allow himself to move forward in the relationship because ultimately he thought it wouldn't last? It's whiplash for the audience after you saw how INVESTED Tommy was in the last ep! And how exactly is this Buck getting off the hamster wheel? This relationship has ended pretty much exactly like all his others - he gets invested, they leave! They had so much potential as a couple - seeing what it's like for two fire-fighters to date knowing they're both in risky jobs, maybe Buck having to meet/deal with Tommy's homophobic father, getting to explore a "new" character's back story instead of rehashing the same story lines from the mains as well as seeing more of how Buck deals with being in a same sex relationship. All wasted.

And since they referenced Glee, if the plan is for it to echo the Kurt/Blaine relationship in that show where they broke up so they could "explore" before getting back together, by doing so they ruined that relationship so much that by the end it wasn't satisfying that they WERE endgame - they weren't the couple we fell in love with. (And also, way to reinforce the negative stereotype of "you can't ever be long term with your first". I should let my sister, my cousin and my aunt know even though they've all been married for years to their husbands - all their first.) Even if they do decide to bring Tommy back down the line, would it even be the same relationship we fell in love with? Would we even trust the writers to stick with it and treat it well? Or if they did a final episode reunion so Buck doesn't end the series alone, how is that satisfying for the audience?

I have been watching 911 since it started, and I have always been part of the general audience up until S7 where I joined the fandom because I thought Buck/Tommy were adorable. It's the first time in years I've become invested in a couple on a show. It's the first time in years that I've dipped my toes back into a fandom. Like you, this ship inspired me to write fic again. I have a bunch of wip's waiting to be posted on ao3 and I honestly don't know if I'll finish them now. And if they have broken them up for Buddie to get together I think I'll stop watching. And not just because I never saw them as a romantic couple (I only ever saw a deep friendship) but because logistically I don't see it working. Besides the fact that I think that while they work as friends, they probably wouldn't gel as a couple, two people on the same team in a relationship? That will screw up the 118 dynamic, especially as this show looooves relationship drama. If they get in a fight, or worse, break up, then what? How would that work within the 118, unless someone transfers out, but then it's bye bye the 118 we love. And not to mention, in the only 4 months I have been in this fandom I have seen some VILE crap from the buddies, and from what I understand it they've been like that for years. And the show runners know about it, so if they go with Buddie, congratulations, you've rewarded toxic behaviour and given them a license to be worse (look at them already, going in the bucktommy tags and gloating).

I told myself after Glee ended and they royally screwed everything up that I wouldn't watch another Ryan Murphy show because he has a history of doing that sort of thing. When 911 came along I was cautious, but it looked like it would be different - more grown up if you will, especially since Ryan Murphy hasn't really been involved since season 1. I should have just gone with my gut. I just hope that, knowing these last two eps were filmed weeks before they aired, the showrunners see how popular they were and realise crap, we've made a BIG mistake. (Everyone should flood instagram and especially Facebook, whoch is more GA than most social media platforms, with RESPECTFUL comments about how devastated they are, and who knows, it might make them consider bringing Tommy back sometime in 8b - I believe they're still writing the back half of the season.)

Side note, I feel really sorry for Lou. Yeah he's going back to SWAT, and I love him in that (even though his character can be a dick sometimes) but he's said in interviews how he's tired of always being cast as "the muscle" due to his size and he seemed genuinely happy to get this role, which was exactly what he was looking for - the sweet, caring, romantic love interest role where he could show some depth, and they screwed him over (sounds like he even thought Buck and Tommy were doing well and wasn't expecting the break up until the end).

(Apologies for the long rant. But what you've been saying really resonated with me and I needed to share your sentiments.)

.

[monstrousvoice]

Bar Snack

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Husk X Female Reader

AN: It is 4am and I wake up. I see this post and am struck with the desire to write smut.

I do so.

Tags: PWP, Female Reader, Reader has a vulva, Cunnilingous, Sex in a Public Space, Daddy Kink, Mentions of Husk being on the chubbier side, If I missed any tags please let me know

Read on AO3!

“J-just hold still, alright?”

“You mister, have had too much!” You laugh, even as you let Husk manhandle you onto the bar top. The tips of his claws prick at the soft flesh of your hips and the sting has you biting your lip and hissing in pleasure. Husk's ears twitch and rotate to face you, taking in every noise you make. His golden eyes lock on to you, pupils dilating and contracting rapidly. He lets out a low growl.

“So what? Just…just need to hear you, need to-...to taste you a little, baby-” He leans forward, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing your scent. You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him closer to you. You feel his teeth ever so gently graze across your neck, following the coarse feeling of his tongue as he licks you without shame. A sudden nip has your hips bucking towards the counter edge and against his own, your legs wrapping tight around his hips. 

You can feel him, his hardening cock slipping out of his sheath and pressing against you. His wings flutter before you, tense with the muscles in his back as Husk makes it his mission to suck a hickey onto every available spot of your neck and shoulders. His claws, still on your hips, dip underneath the edge of the dress you have on, pushing the fabric up to stay bunched up around your waist.

“W-what if-what if someone comes in-?” Your voice is no better than a whisper, your breath stolen by the attention being lavished upon you. Even as you worry, your hand moves from its clawed grip on his shoulder to travel down, and you smirk in victory when you find your prize. You cup Husk's growing bulge, outlining the shape of his hard cock and balls through his pants. You give his balls a gentle squeeze and are rewarded with his hips bucking into your hand, wings flaring, and a bite on your shoulder that does nothing to muffle his possessed growl. 

You keen, proud of yourself. 

“F-fuckin slut-” He hisses against your tender new mark. “Acting so worried but you go and do that.” His tone is harsh, but the gentle lapping of his tongue shows he's anything but angry. 

“Just because my Daddy doesn't-” You moan, interrupted as his paw moves to your cunt and presses. “-m-make the best decisions, doesn't mean I'm not gonna take care of him~” Husk chuckles, a deep, low sound that vibrates through your body. Your hips are moving on their own, rocking your hot core against the fingers still pushing that maddening pressure against you. Your slick is leaking through your panties and you know he can feel it. 

“You do take care of me, don't ya baby doll?” The tenderness in his voice is unexpected but not unwelcome. Husk hooks a finger from his free hand under chin, turning you to look him in the eye. “You’re always there for me, bad day or no…my good girl.” His pupils are wide and fuzzy, and the tenderness you see directed at you is almost too much to bear. You practically freeze, locked under those eyes as he leans forward and kisses you with such softness it feels dream-like. You press back, welcoming his affection with a moan of bliss and fluttering eyelashes.

His tongue meets with yours as the fingers pressed against your cunt move again. You feel the pressure ease away and almost whine into the kiss, before feeling his claws hook under the fabric of your panties. The sound of seams ripping hits you, and you're distantly aware that you are, yet again, down another pair of panties. You don't really mind though, not when losing them leads to situations like this. 

Husk's claws are back to your drooling slit, tracing up and down with a sort of reverence. Your pussy feels hot and slick, and Husk groans low in his chest when he uses two fingers to spread your lips, your arousal drenching his fingers. He pulls away from kissing you and you pathetically chase after him for more. He presses another quick one to your bruising lips, then another when you keep following after him. 

“Alright baby-” He grunts, and you press more kisses to his muzzle, trying to bring him back for more. “C-c’mon sweet girl-no more…” You stop, leaning hard into his chest, the weight of his tummy pressing into yours. You whimper and bite your bottom lip, wanting to protest but knowing better than to do so. You try to plead instead. 

“Pl-please daddy? Just, fuck, just a couple more while you f-fuck me? Please?” You grind your cunt against his fingers as you beg, unashamed at the possibility that someone else in the hotel could walk in to find you moaning like a whore for the bartender's touch.

“No baby, no, cause I'm not gonna fuck you-” Your heart drops at his words, desperation and fear immediately setting in. Your mind races with things you could have done to deserve a punishment tonight, and you watch with wide eyes as Husk lowers himself to his knees before you. 

“Yet.” He hisses. Relief floods you instantly, and by the mischievous glint in his eye, Husk knows how worked up his words made you. He chuckles and moves his hands to your thighs, cupping them and pushing them apart to give himself a first-class view of your cunt. You bite your bottom lip and look away, closing your eyes as your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You can feel his paws move closer to your pussy, until his thumbs are suddenly touching. He plays with your lips for a moment, his thumbs spreading your slick everywhere before hooking them and spreading you open.

Your cunt is forced to gape before his eyes, fluttering with arousal despite the mortification burning you alive. 

“Fuck, what a pretty cunt. Already this wet from some kisses and rubbing? Heh, you're dripping on the floor at this point.” You whimper and keen, peaking an eye open to look down at him. His eyes are like molten gold as he stares back at you. 

“Don't be embarrassed baby girl, it's alright. Daddy’s gonna clean up your mess.” You barely have time to process his words before he leans forward and trails one long lick up your pussy. Your hips buck immediately at the feeling of his rough tongue against you, pushing your hips up into his muzzle. 

“S-s-sorry Daddy-!” You whimper, but Husk doesn't stop. He simply wraps one of his thick, heavy arms over your hips and pins you to the bar top, licking away at your cunt like he doesn't have a care in hell. You shudder and gasp, your hips twitching to grind against his mouth for more than rough kitten licks but unable to with his arm pinning you down. The knowledge makes your blood burn hotter, seeing how easy it is for him to control and manipulate your body to his will. His claws dig into the fat of your thigh and hip as he eats you out like a five-star meal. 

You feel his tongue wiggle inside, your gummy walls clenching down in response to squeeze a cock that isn't there. Husk lets out a purr in response, the only sound in the hotel bar besides the slick ‘slurp’ noises he makes as he sucks your clit like it's his favorite piece of candy. You can only throw your head back against the bar and endure his assault, wishing that the sweet torture would never end. 

“D-Daddy, fuck-! Please, please d-don't stop, please-” Your words start to slur together as you beg for more. You bring a shaking hand from your face to your hips, gripping the paw holding you down like a lifeline. A sharp nip to the hood of your clit has you gasping, sitting up straight to look down at your boyfriend with shock. He doesn't stop, still lapping away at your fluttering cunt. His eyes are hooded, taking in the sight of you sitting above him, losing your mind on his talented tongue. He pulls away from his feast only briefly to rumble a command at you. 

“Hold my head baby, don't let go.”

You do as you’re told, taking your hand not holding his and carding it through the fur on top of his head. Husk lets out a pleased rumble before diving back in, suckling your swollen clit without mercy. You cry out, throwing your head back and gasping at the sensation. 

You're so close, you can feel the coil in your cunt, the pleasure shooting through your veins that lets you know your orgasm is on its way-you just need-need a little more-

A new sound reaches your ears, wet and slick like the sounds coming from your cunt, but just off ever so slightly-

You look down at Husk, his eyes closed as he loses himself to your taste. You can see his breath steam up as he snorts from his nose, drowning in your smell. Looking down further you see it, past the wonderful thick belly you nuzzle into every night. Husk has undone his pants one handed while eating you out, and his free hand, you hadn't even noticed it leaving your thigh, was fisted around his cock. Pink and red peaked at you from between his fingers as he tried to jerk himself in unison with his mouth as he ate you out. A thick glob of precum was drooling from his cock head, getting swiped up by his thumb to make his hand move slicker, only to be immediately replaced by more. 

A full body shudder tore through you at the sight, your own mouth drooling with the desire to have that fat cock shoved down your throat as Husk moaned for you. It was enough, and your cunt squeezed tight around nothing as Husk licked and sucked your clit.

“C-cumming-” You gave a breathless cry, hips bucking in vain against Husk's strong grip, your orgasm tearing through you with an intensity that had your toes curling and thighs squeezing tight around Husk's head. He simply moaned low in response, lost in the feeling of your thighs squeezing and your hand pulling his fur as you lost yourself to him. He continued lapping at your swollen and puffy cunt, making sure not one drop of your cum was forgotten by his tongue. Even as your body fell boneless under him, he kept licking and sucking, moving to the meat of your thighs to leave hickeys and bite marks as you recovered and learned how to be alive again. 

“How ya feeling baby doll? Talk to me.” He spoke, his voice sounding gravely and deep even to himself, thick with lust he hasn't had a chance to relieve yet. He tucked his still hard cock back inside his pants, zipping it up just enough to keep himself from popping back out. He stood back up, leaning over your limp body on the tabletop. You gave him a dazed smile from where you lay.

“G-good…thank you Daddy, for letting me cum…” Husk smiled, pulling you in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue. You whimpered into his mouth as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the bar top and into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his hips immediately, your still sensitive pussy being pressed against his hard cock, covered in fabric. He pulled away from your kiss, adjusting you in his grip as he began walking towards the hotel elevator. 

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he walked. “Now, you're gonna be a good doll and let Daddy have his turn, yeah? I need a tight little hole to fuck~” He growled in your ear. You felt the vibrations from his chest travel through your whole body. Despite cumming already, your pussy throbbed at his words, and you moaned. 

“Y-yes Daddy, whatever you want-” You managed to whimper, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he carried you to your shared bedroom.

~~~~~~~

The following morning, Husk walked behind the bar to find a note folded with his name on it. He raised a feathered eyebrow, feeling curious as he opened it. It was Charlie's neat cursive. 

Husk,

Nifty found a rather…interesting piece of clothing early this morning when cleaning. I frankly don't want to know what you two were doing last night, I don't need details, but I do ask that you clean up after yourselves at least. 

Thank you! 

Husk snorted, pocketing the note to show you and laugh about later. He supposed now he and the princess were even, considering the sight he had walked in on in the kitchen just a week ago.

[abigailnussbaum]

The Georgette Heyer Master List

Is it just me, or has Georgette Heyer kind of... gone away? Ten, maybe fifteen years ago, she was a name I'd hear quite often. Especially in the circles of science fiction and fantasy fandom that also overlapped with the avid readership of Jane Austen or Patrick O'Brian, she was often recommended as a sort of Austen methadone. Over at Tor.com, as it was then known, fantasy author Mari Ness did a whole season of reading through Heyer's voluminous back-catalogue. These days, even as romance writing—and especially Regency romance, the subgenre that Heyer arguably created—has gained enormous mainstream visibility, and as science fiction and fantasy romance has become its own wildly successful subgenre, Heyer seems to come up less and less. One might have expected the success of Bridgerton, for example, to inspire some film or TV adaptations of her books (it was, after all, the reason the Austen fanfic series Sanditon came back from being cancelled after its first season), but so far nothing.

This might be one of those cases where the answer is contained in the question. The reason fewer people are reading Heyer is that, although she more or less created Regency romance, there are so many people writing within it now that readers looking for something like Jane Austen, but not quite, have a lot of other options on offer. Which makes it easier to notice the problems with Heyer, or simply the ways in which her style has fallen out of fashion. There is no sex in her books (and no queerness, obviously), but there are poisonous sexual mores—all her heroes have had mistresses who are, quite obviously to them and everyone around them, not the sort of woman one marries, while her heroines, even at the moment of declaring their love to their HEA, feel obliged to "resist" any physical display of affection. Her books are rife with chauvinism, antisemitism, and most of all classism (and frankly, I think the only reason racism is absent is that everyone in these books is white), and while this is arguably more realistic than a lot of starry-eyed modern Regency romances, it is also a reflection of Heyer's own prejudices.

Still, I took in all those recommendations a decade or more ago, and while I may be slow I will usually get around to reading something if a lot of people tell me I should. In the last year I've ended up reading a lot of Heyer—mostly stuff I had in my enormous TBR, or found at a used bookstore, or at the local library, so there's not a lot of intentional choice happening here. I'm not here to say that Heyer is an overlooked gem. All those problems noted above are very much present in her writing, and in addition she has some favorite tropes that she goes back to again and again—in a mere twelve books, the plot strand in which one character is kidnapped across the channel to France, while another character pursues them, going deep into the logistics of finding them and catching them up, recurs a surprising number of times. But she's nevertheless a more interesting writer than I think is commonly acknowledged today, more likely to pay attention to the psychology of her characters (and not in the modern, sometimes quite exhausting, therapy-speak way), and more interested in her setting (Heyer also wrote historical fiction, and some of her romances shade into that genre). I dipped into some of Julia Quinn's Bridgerton novels this year as well, and I have to say, beyond the fact that Heyer is just a better writer, it's a bit more palatable to encounter nasty sexual politics in novels written in the 40s and 50s, than to have to accept that the implied threat of sexual violence is but a stepping stone to true love from a writer whose books were published only twenty years ago.

Below are some thoughts on the Heyer books I've read so far. I will add to them when and as I read new ones, though I think I will continue to leave the selection of those books to happenstance.

S-Tier

Cotillion (1953) - This is the first Heyer I ever read, and to an extent it has spoiled me for the rest of her writing by being such a high water mark. Kitty Charing has been informed by her guardian that she will be forced to marry one of his nephews, and instead decides to run off to the city to find her own match, with the help of gadabout Freddy. The two end up first pretending to be engaged, and then trying to throw Kitty in the path of eligible bachelors, while inevitably falling in love themselves. This is a great book first because it's extremely funny. Heyer had a great ear for the absurd slang of the fashionable London set, and gets a lot of mileage out of Kitty's cheerful refusal to let logic or common sense stop her, and Freddy's Regency himbo antics. More importantly—and rather rarely for Heyer's writing—Kitty and Freddy are true equals. They're both a bit silly and a lot sheltered, but also able to rise to the occasion when it's required, and they lock into each other's wavelength early in the novel and never let go. Inasmuch as they change each other, it's only in revealing that they are able to pull off audacious schemes when someone they care about needs them to, and you can imagine the two of them having a long, ridiculous partnership in crime for the rest of their lives.

Sylvester, or the Wicked Uncle (1957) - Informed that Lord Sylvester, who has a bad reputation that is only partly earned, is about to propose marriage to her, Phoebe runs off with her best friend Tom. When the two of them run into trouble on the road, they are rescued by none other than Sylvester, which throws him and Phoebe together for extended periods, with predictable results. This format—older, powerful man; younger, sheltered woman—is one that Heyer returns to quite often, but it works better here than in any other of her novels. Sylvester isn't cruel or a rake; he's arrogant and high-handed, though often with some justification (most of his bad reputation comes from his self-absorbed, thoughtless sister-in-law). Phoebe isn't a naif, but an intelligent woman with a hidden career as an author that she's quite devoted to. The two of them develop a compelling friendship long before they fall in love, rooted in the fact that they are often the smartest person in the room, and able to help each other steer a tricky situation towards calm waters. The twist that threatens their relationship—before meeting him, Phoebe wrote a novel in which the villain was a thinly-veiled version of Sylvester—is highly original, and the novel's final act, in which Sylvester must pursue Phoebe and his kidnapped nephew into France, is one of the most hilarious sequences I've ever read. By the time the two get together, it's obvious that they could only be happy with each other.

Good

False Colors (1963) - Returning from his diplomatic post abroad, Kit Fancot discovers that his twin brother Evelyn has disappeared, right before he was about to propose to Cressida Stavely. Persuaded by his mother to impersonate his twin for one night, Kit quickly finds himself hosting Cressida and a whole raft of other characters in his country home, while trying to keep up the charade and, of course, keep from falling in love with Cressida himself. This is a book that's interesting more for the background than the main romance—Kit and Cressida are quite sweet, but more because they're a point of calm amidst the chaos of all their relatives and friends. But it's that chaos—especially Kit's mother, an airheaded inveterate gambler whom Kit nevertheless adores— that is the real source of the novel's fun. The fact that Kit and Cressida are able to put all the various crises around them to rest is what convinces you that they will be a good couple, but it's not their further adventures that you'd like to follow.

Charity Girl (1970) - While visiting relatives, Ashley Desford encounters Charity Steane, the penniless ward of a family who are mistreating her. When Ashley later finds Charity running away, he convinces her to let him try to find her a respectable situation, and places her with his childhood friend Henrietta Silverdale. In any other novel you'd expect Ashley and Charity to fall in love (and indeed this is what several characters in the novel assume—when they're not assuming something more salacious). Instead, Ashley's efforts to untangle Charity's family situation, get the best of her odious relatives, and find a safe place for her are a method of throwing him in company with Henrietta, whom he has for years insisted is only a friend. It turns out that Ashley and Henrietta, having rebelled against their families' plan to marry them off at a too-young age, have been shame-facedly pretending that they haven't fallen in love for ten years, and it's only by becoming jointly responsible for Charity that they can work their way around this predicament. The stakes aren't particularly high, but the scenario is original enough (especially for Heyer) to make this a worthwhile read.

Interesting

These Old Shades (1926) - Infamous rake Justin Alastair encounters a runaway, Léon, on the streets of Paris and takes him in as his page. It doesn't take long to realize that Léon is actually Léonie, but the untangling of her convoluted family history—a tale of swapped babies, mistaken identities, and false heirs—is the business of much of the novel, during which, of course, Justin and Léonie also fall in love. The potboiler plot is quite fun, as is Léonie herself—having pretended to be a boy for years, she is at once indifferent to the mores she's expected to adopt as a respectable young lady, and immediately won over by fancy clothes and balls, which allows her to triumph over opponents in both high and low society. But this can't quite get around the problem that Justin is twice Léonie's age, and also a pretty bad person (the character previously appeared in The Black Moth (1921), where he was the villain, and a subplot in These Old Shades even throws Justin into the company a woman he had kidnapped in the previous book). Despite the force of Léonie's argument that she actually wants to be with Justin, this is a book better enjoyed for its rollicking, adventurous middle than its romantic conclusion.

An Infamous Army (1937) - Heyer was simply mad for the Napoleonic wars, and this is one of several books she wrote set in and around them. As aristocrats and officers await the arrival of Napoleon's army in Brussels, Colonel Charles Audley encounters Lady Barbara Childe, a widow with a scandalous reputation. The two feel an instant, powerful attraction, but end up having to navigate Barbara's habit of playing games with her suitors, and Charles's impatience with them, before the battle of Waterloo erupts and forces them both to confront more pressing issues while also realizing the depth of their feelings for each other. It's nice to have a central couple who are older, more experienced people, but An Infamous Army steps away from Charles and Barbara quite often. Sometimes this is quite interesting—the absurdity of 18th century warfare, with Wellington throwing balls for the who's who gathered in Brussels while everyone debates when to flee the city—and at other points quite tedious—several subplots in which Charles's extended family play forgettable matchmaking games. In the end, however, Heyer's interest is in Waterloo itself, with the novel culminating in an 80-page, blow-by-blow description of the battle. This can sometimes be quite moving, when it captures the sheer extent of the carnage, or the confusion of individual officers. But mostly it's just descriptions of military tactics, which is not what I signed up for when I picked up a Regency romance. By the time Charles and Barbara find their way back to each other, you'll mostly be feeling exhausted rather than overjoyed.

A Civil Contract (1961) - Adam Deveril is called home from the peninsula by the news that his father, a viscount, has died, and that the family finances are in such dire straits that Adam may be forced to sell their ancestral estate. The only solution, Adam is quickly made to realize, is for him to marry rich, to which end he's introduced to Jenny Chawleigh, the daughter of a fantastically rich but boorish merchant. In most books we'd expect Adam and Jenny to fall in love, and it takes a while to realize that this is not going to happen. Adam continues to think wistfully about Julia, the woman he had been attached to before his finances made the idea of proposing to her impossible, and the narrative is at pains to point out that he doesn't feel any attraction towards Jenny. What A Civil Contract is about, instead, is class relations. The complicated push and pull between Adam and Jenny's father Jonathan as they negotiate one's social position, and the other's wealth; the delicate negotiations between Adam and Jenny as she learns to understand the importance of tradition to him, and he realizes that she is actually capable of being a great viscountess if he just trusts her a little. The whole thing is a lot more Edith Wharton than Jane Austen, with some great scenes in which Adam is torn between genuine appreciation of Jonathan's energy and intelligence, and disgust at his determination to tear down everything old and replace it with whatever is newest and most expensive. In the end, however, it's all a bit too bleak, and Heyer doesn't quite have the courage to let us sit with that. She tries to assure us that Adam and Jenny have found a genuine partner in each other, and that this, too, is a form of love, but this is not very convincing. In the hands of another author, A Civil Contract would have been the half-tragedy it actually is.

Meh

The Convenient Marriage (1934) - Intending to propose to the eldest Winwood sister, who is already in love with someone else, the Earl of Rule is persuaded, by her younger sister Horatia, to marry her instead. That's basically the story—a marriage of convenience for both parties that turns into a romance. But while in other books Heyer has made a meal of this premise, The Convenient Marriage never convinces you of either its lovers being especially suited to each other, or the rather thin obstacles it places in their path. There are some interesting worldbuilding details—some information about how the invitations to Almack's used to work, or about the mechanics and norms of duel-fighting. And towards the end, there are some good scenes in which Horatia has to outsmart a kidnapper, or her brother has to arrange a highway robbery to retrieve a stolen jewel that might destroy her reputation. But ultimately, the fact that this is all in service of a couple who aren't particularly engaging (and whose age difference—35 and 17—is hard to get over) makes the whole thing a bit of a slog.

Cousin Kate (1968) - Kate Malvern is at the end of her rope, having been chased off yet another governess position by an employer with wandering hands, when a long-lost aunt invites her to visit her country home. When Kate arrives, she soon realizes that her aunt Minerva plans to pressure her to marry her cousin Torquil, and that there are secrets in the estate and the family that are being kept from her. This is Heyer working in the Gothic mode, complete with an isolated great house, a young woman being manipulated and lied to, and a dreadful family secret. It's reasonably well done for what it is, but there were better authors than Heyer working in the Gothic mode—by 1968 you could have read something like Mary Stewart's The Ivy Tree (1961) or Nine Coaches Waiting (1958), both of which do much more interesting, innovative things with the Gothic form than Heyer is even attempting. Finally, there is the fact that the dark secret being kept from Kate has to do with mental illness, whose handling is as tragic and sensationalized as you might expect from this author and era.

Yikes

Devil’s Cub (1932) - The sequel to These Old Shades, this book centers on Justin and Léonie's son Vidal, who has all of his parents' faults and none of their charms. After killing a man in a duel, he schemes to run off with a silly middle class girl, whom he of course feels no compunction about ruining. When her sister Mary takes her place, Vidal is shocked to realize that he has compromised a "respectable" woman, and tries to convince her to marry him. There are further twists, but none of them can get around the fact that the main character of this book is odious, and that the supposed love story between him and the girl he has kidnapped and ruined is highly unconvincing. Not helping matters is that an older Léonie periodically appears to explain that her son has done nothing wrong and that marrying Mary will obviously be the best thing for him, which frankly feels too much like the voice of the author for comfort.

The Spanish Bride (1940) - Based on the real experiences of Captain Harry Smith and his Spanish war bride Juana, this is another novel deeply rooted in the minutiae of the Napoleonic wars, beginning on the peninsula and culminating, of course, in Waterloo. In itself this might simply be boring, but right off the bat we get a scene in which Harry and other officers stand back while their soldiers, enraged after the bloody siege of Badajoz, murder and rape their way through the town for several days. Harry's marriage to Juana is arranged in the wake of this atrocity as a means of protecting her, despite her being only fourteen years old. The rest of the novel is spent careening between detailed descriptions of various battles, and cutesy interludes between Harry and Juana as they settle into their marriage—Harry often exasperated by Juana's stubbornness and emotional outbursts (I don't know, man; if you didn't want a wife who behaves like a child, maybe you shouldn't have married a child); Juana almost slavishly devoted to him but also prone to jealousy and anxiety. (Harry Smith left copious journals so one assumes his side of the story is fairly realistic; Juana Smith's feelings on the whole matter are, as far as I know, lost to history.) The whole thing is alternately boring and gross.

The Grand Sophy (1950) - Charles Rivenhall is informed that his family will play host to their cousin Sophy, whose diplomat father is being sent abroad. Accustomed to keeping house for her father, Sophy quickly takes over the Rivenhall household, rearranging her cousins' financial and romantic lives while a stunned Charles is at first outraged, and then won over. This is a solid premise, but the execution is appalling. Sophy is a bulldozer who interferes in people's lives not because she cares about them but because she always thinks she knows better, and eventually she comes to feel more like a bully than a savior. That Charles is attracted to these qualities might be taken as a defensive trauma response (or, in the hands of a more open-minded author, a kinky tendency), but at no point did I even begin to believe that Sophy had any romantic interest in him (there are a number of Heyer characters who would make a lot more sense if they were queer, but Sophy, in particular, is so clearly a lesbian that the very idea of her happily married to a man breaks one's brain). Adding insult to injury is a lengthy sequence in which Sophy "defeats" an odious Jewish moneylender—read, a collection of poisonous antisemitic stereotypes in human form—whom her cousin has borrowed money from and who, completely unreasonably, expects to be paid back until Sophy threatens him with a gun. I will no doubt ruffle some feather by placing this book—generally held to be one of Heyer's best—so low, but reading it nearly put me off her for life. 

[bitethedevil]

What annoys you about fandom culture

Oh that’s a spicy question.

Had you asked me a couple of years ago, my answer would be very different from today. I was a proud member of the SuperWhoLock fandom on here as a kid (I still shudder to think about it), and that was usually what I first thought of when the word “fandom” was uttered.

I think I’ve had a pretty negative view on it for a very long time. Mostly I saw fandom culture as cringe. I later got diagnosed with autism and found out that many of the things I found awful and cringe about fandoms, was me internalizing the insecurity I had about my own hyperfixations and I was projecting that onto other people who were obsessed or passionate about certain subjects.

Now “cringe” is a term I’ve tried to kill in my own life. It has been difficult for me to be really unashamedly into something, but you’re on this blog, so you know I’ve certainly gotten somewhere with it lol. I also first and foremost would never put someone else down about their interests, no matter how borderline obsessive they might seem and how they express that obsession. Because if it happened to myself, I know how things like that would crush my enjoyment when I was younger. It’s a very “let people enjoy what they enjoy”-sort of mind set I’ve tried to develop.

Now, if there is something that annoys me, a part of it is related to the statement above: don’t yuck other people’s yum. It’s not too bad on tumblr (in my limited experience). A few negative posts might make it into the tags every now and again, but I don’t mind that too much. You’re allowed to hate the characters I love.

Any kind of media should be open for whatever interpretation the viewer/reader gets out of it. I even like reading Raphael-hate sometimes if the person has some arguments that I haven’t heard before. As you might have noticed from my humongous list of analyses posts, I like picking things apart, and I like seeing other people doing the same, even if it might be in a negative light.

What I don’t like is when it’s: “fuck this character! how can anyone like this character”. Like sure, fair, but don’t tag that specific character (I know that my examples have been pointed towards Raphael, but I know that some Raphael fans have done the same the other way around). I don’t particularly like the Emper*r, but I’ve tried my best to make sure those posts don’t end up in their tags.

These are things across characters though, but it happens within a specific fandom too. I’m not a huge fan of the posts that are like “this character would never (insert statement)”. I don’t like when a version or an opinion of a character becomes canonized through the fandom and presented as fact. This ties back to the thing about me liking to hear about multiple interpretations and that I think all of people’s personal interpretations are valid. It makes it so that media becomes set in stone and then you are unable to gain anymore from it. It ruins it. You don’t agree with a specific version of a character? Then don’t read it. Or do, and maybe gain a new perspective.

My other points would be those that are obvious: don't harass voice actors or any other real life people because you like a specific media or character. Don't be silly.

I also want to be fair and say that this is the first fandom that I have been super active in in years, and I've said again and again that I love this fanbase for how open and kind it is. I think it's the perfect fit for me tbh. I have dipped my toe in other, more popular fandoms but I have quickly found them too overwhelming, because you have to cater to very specific interests in order to even be heard if you are making content, which quickly creates a very limited eco-system and thus some of the problems above might emerge. Here there is a little bit of everything and when you type in the "raphael bg3"-tag, it isn't loaded with thousands of pages of content anymore. That makes me more curious about things I wouldn't normally be into and that broadens my horizon a bit. I like that.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[itkeepsyouaround]

TITLE: clutched my life & wish it kept (dearest love, i’m not done yet)

[1/4]: the injury of finally knowing you

SUMMARY: In the end, all roads lead to you. Pairing: Gaz x Death!Reader, Price x Death!Reader Word Count: 1k

WARNING: no beta, no proofread, first time doing a reader fic. reader is death, but tf141 are kinda into it?

A/N: dipping my writing skills into this fandom for the first time. have a ton of ideas for one-shots and series, but this one popped into my head and i had to get it out.

Death was a stranger.

One that Gaz had no intention of meeting anytime soon. There were several almosts. He almost got blown to shit in Piccadilly. He almost gets riddled with bullets. Hell, he almost chokes on a hotdog laughing too hard at a joke. The cigarettes were a slow building almost, but he put in an effort to quit. Delay things a bit longer. Compared to his teammates, Gaz was the hardest for you to track down. He’s impatient to a degree, wants justice a little too much at times. Played with the idea of throwing out the rules of engagement a time or two and handling shit. Yet he had alluded you at every turn.

It takes a helicopter and some rope for Kyle Garrick to get a glimpse of you.

“Sergeant!” 

Nik’s voice barely registers. It’s a whisper in the wind compared to the vehicles that whip past his head and narrowly miss cracking him in the skull. Nik calling out to him is a memory in the back of his mind that ends up scraping on the gravel and dirt the moment he slams against the ground briefly. He loses his rifle and probably a bit of blood in the fall, but he doesn’t lose his bearings. Not completely anyway. At least that’s his hope, as his blurry vision clears and his eyes lock onto the unbelievable.

He sees Death itself.

He sees you.

Gaz sees your face in each passing car and truck he narrowly misses. It’s not hard to notice someone beautiful like you amongst the men currently trying to kill him. He swears time slows, his eyes finding yours in every direction he looks. You’re oblivious to the chaos around you, hair whipping around from the wind. No one seems to take notice of you. Only him. He wonders if it’s intentional or some sort of sign that his time is coming. He wonders a hundred other thoughts in the brief moment he has before voices begin to yell over comms. 

“Captain, Gaz fell out!”

“Say again?!”

“The sergeant! He’s gone!” 

Not yet.

Gaz heard the voice in his head as he reached for his pistol. Only that voice in his head wasn’t his. Neither was it the voices of his teammates. It was yours. Soft as a feather, the words glided through his mind. Gentle. Hell, it was a little encouraging. Your lips didn’t move when you spoke, your eyes still tracking him with growing interest. You smile. You fucking smile and it’s so damn stunning that Gaz nearly drops his pistol. It was a moment, barely a beat, before the truck you were in zoomed past his head. He dodged, head on a swivel, as he tried to find you again to no avail. Adrenaline began to kick in, sending Gaz fully back into the action.

“I’m not dead, Nik! I’m hanging from a bloody rope!” 

He hears your laugh in his head at his words. Amused was what you were. Even if he couldn’t see you, he knew. Your face isn’t anywhere to be seen by the time he finally takes aim at his attackers. Death was not claiming him that day. If anything, you were going to have to watch him make the comeback of a century. 

And what a goddamn comeback it was.

Gaz waited until they touched ground and were well on their way towards medical before he brought you up to Price. The frenzy around him, the sight of you watching, then disappearing from his sight. Hearing your voice in his head, feeling the echoes of you long after you were gone. There was death and then there was Death… and Capital-D-You-Death was not real. You couldn’t be real. Surely he had to have cracked his head a little too hard back there, right?

“Sounds like her,” Price huffed out, “Always needed a front row seat, that one.”

Gaz half-wondered if Price also had his shit rocked during the fight. Maybe the good captain took a tumble himself. There was no way he heard those words correctly.

“Sir?” he asked, unsure of what else to say. 

“She comes for us all in the end, but you can spot her in the close calls.”

Price brought his gaze down to meet Gaz’s. Ocean eyes kept steady, holding the sergeant’s confused look with absolute certainty.

“Try not to let her visit too often, yeah?”

“I’ll try my best, Cap’.”

Price watched as the medic came into view and ushered Gaz into another room to get him checked over. His hand fished into his pocket for a cigar, bringing it to his lips once he retrieved it. He moved towards his other pocket for his lighter, but found himself pausing. Though there was no other in the room with him, Price knew he wasn’t alone. There was no mistaking the sensation that came over him. Your touch to his cheek, warm and familiar.

He knew your touch well.

“You can’t have him,” Price warned you, gravel in his voice. The words dripped with authority. “You can’t have any of ‘em.”

Price felt the pressure at his back. Light, but just as warm. Like a lover leaning in to embrace him from behind. As macabre as it was, Price found his eyelids falling closed at the at feeling, tipping back his head with a soft sigh. A release that brought ease to his shoulders. It had been too long since he felt something so intimate. What the hell does it say about him? That these days he could only find such solace with Death itself? 

“You can’t have me either, sweetheart.” 

Though he could not see you, Price felt your fingertips brush over the hair along his jaw. He held still, hands resisting the urge to reach out. To try and touch in return. To feel you. It wasn’t until he felt the warmth dissipate that he moved again. You left. Left him cold. Alone. At least until the next time you decided to visit. Price knew you had his number. It was only a matter of time. One bad day. One wrong move. He’d go down fighting, then find you waiting for him. He made peace with that long ago.

Until then, he’d make sure you kept your distance from him and his.

[mymoshangthoughts]

i knew with my pattern of fandom it was inevitable before i became obsessed with the og owners of the bodies. i was already highkey obsessed with shen jiu, but i knew it would be only a matter of time before i started to hyper fixate on og!shang qinghua, but man, when it hits, it hits me like a freight train lmfao

i should rlllyyyy stop reading transmigration stories, this always happens to me pfff

gonna just obsess about sibling au's, as is my normal comfort food, and curse the author for not giving me their fucking NAMES so that i could just say "shang jingqi" and have everyone automatically know that i mean og!shang qinghua, the same way that i can just say shen jiu (very fucking grateful i got that at least man)

that said, not necessarily sold on "shang jingqi" as a name for him 🤔it was just kinda a random name i threw out for convenience sake. i saw "shang hua" and "shang houhua" and that one could work, altho im not 100% sold idk

this is why i just wish there was a damn canon name for me to obsess about 😭i overthink fan-names A LOT and i just want to have a canon name. or at least a super commonly accepted fanon name urrrggghhhhhhhh

and like

it's the worst with shang qinghua oki

because it's not even JUST trying to figure out a birth name that satisfies me. because it's like, three fucking names i need to figure out

og!shang qinghua's birth name

airplane!shang qinghua sibling au birth name

airplane's og name from his og world

technicalllyyyy i can prolly combine the last two (and i intend to) but it's still kinda this nagging plot hole in my head that BOTHERS me, because obviously he would have a different name!! oargjauhtiehri

until i see something better though, my answers are gonna be

shang jingqi (no meaning to this, head empty, jingqi is a cute name and i like him so i gave him a cute name)

shang feiyu (yes im trying to be punny with "fei" being from "feiji" (airplane), altho not using that character. i miiiight wind up leaning into the pun 100% and just go with feiji even tho thats a really fucking weird name, maybe make the excuse that the system is making fun of him)

????????????

i might just lean into airplane can't remember his og name because man, this is giving me a headache. istg i have not have been this frustrated since the time i was trying to figure out twin names for lcf twin!cale au's. and like, i had a lot of names to choose from back then! the big problem back then wasnt that the characters didnt have names, but rather that og!cale didn't "own" any of those names in the eyes of the fandom so it created confusion lolol

anyway im getting off point

back to babbling about og!shang qinghua sibling aus

i'm thinking of three types i wanna explore

twin au's. already dipped my toes in it and i like twin aus. it's my normal go-to for this sort of thing lol

older brother og!shang qinghua. ngl, people sold me with their fanart LOL im a weak man to adorable fanart oki

adopted brother au: oki bear with me, but what if baby airplane just gets... dropped into pidw with no family and he gets adopted by one of his scummy canon fodder villains? no blood relations for reassurance (not that airplane gets all that much reassurance from blood relations) just some one who has no obligations to him, who airplane KNOWS has a shitty personality, choosing to adopt him and take care of him? get found family'd, idiot! i just love airplane being the family that someone actively CHOSE

oki so the next thing i need to consider is og!shang qinghua's personality, because lbr, the barebones we get from svsss is noootttt a lot lmfao (og!shang qinghua extra when?). butttt from what we do know, he's supposed to be the sort of person who would work for two bosses, backstabbing either one or both of them

there is actually the potential for og!shang qinghua to be a bit of a su xiyan in this regard 🤔because of the lack of information we have, it's possible he could have actually been a double agent working for cang qiong while pretending to work against it. im not sure i like this path, bc im ngl, i kinda like the characterization of him being a self-serving greedy worm (i have a weakness for characters who are like this okay). but it's worth considering. he could also be playing the game from all angles. cang qiong think he's infiltrating the northern desert on their behalf, mobei-jun thinks he's infiltrating cang qiong on his behalf, and ultimately, og!shang qinghua is 100% his own man who's backstabbing them all LOL

there's also the uncle of it all to consider. linguang-jun is the most viable ally for anyone who might want an upper hand against mobei-jun, and if og!shang qinghua is gutsy enough, he might consider working for him

there's also the possible iteration of him thats 100% cowardly victim who literally never had a choice in any of it and died pathetically after being betrayed by everyone. again, the lack of actual canon info about him makes this possible? and it wouldnt not match up with airplane's pattern with tragic villains. that said, im not a fan of this route bc frankly i'm here for villain-fucking, not for "he was actually the most uwu baby of them all!!!" but i gotta acknowledge the possibility of this category, to actually take into consideration og!shang qinghua's personality. if we think of airplane's pattern with villains tho, none of them are absolutely innocent or kind. shen jiu is undeniably a victim of his circumstances annnnnddddd he also tried to rape ning yingying, so clearly he's not a good dude

there is also a line in the novel where shen yuan says that "shang qinghua was written the same way as shen qingqiu", specifically with regards to being lustful. so it's very likely that og!shang qinghua is into brothels and sex and might be a bit of a horndog

so

with consideration to the above (and anything i forgot that people wanna remind me of because i have the memory of a peanut) the things i wanna consider for his personality are

self serving and greedy (personal preference but it's canon compliant so shhhh)

slutty in at least one way (very likely brothels considering the context and very likely hetero in those slutty ways)

a very good liar (a necessity of the position of a double agent)

good at logistics (thats how you become the an ding peak lord after all)

probably has a tragic backstory (as is airplane's penchant with canon fodder villains)

had a bad relationship with mobei-jun (otherwise canon events dont make sense lol)

alright then theres shipping thoughts to be had >:D bc im shipping scum and this is who i am inside

theres the obvious og!moshang and im definitely here for that, but my airplane x mobei jun obsession is currently consuming me from the inside out sooo lolol so very likely to do some ot3 shenanigans with them at the moment if anything, which works for aus where theyre not related, but since im crawling my way down the shang sibs rabbit hole (and im just not much of an incest shipper lol), i'll table that one for now

shen jiu is worth thinking about, put my slutty canon fodder villains together and see what happens >:D

liu qingge could be hot (also ot3 with liujiu cuz my obsessesion with liujiu is only matched by my moshang obsession LOL). definitely love pairing liu qingge with morally corrupt characters who make him scream "WHY DO I LIKE YOU?!?!?"

sha huling might be kinda hot ngl, i could see them scheming together and also og!shang qinghua resenting the fuck out of luo binghe that he's got the woman of his dreams on retainer and she aint even his main squeeze

wei qingwei is a particularly tantalizing option bc if he was also in charge of the rescue party in pidw, then theres the potential for og!shang qinghua (in contrast to our lil airplane) actually feeling super relieved to see him and developing a really cute "my hero" crush on him~ this is something i will definitely percolate on. might become my fav pick tbh bc the more i think about it, the more i like it >:D

luo binghe is also potential, tho it doesnt fizzle in my brain the same way that bingplane does lol. but i could see potential there

zhuzhi-lang would be pure cracky "i like these two characters so i think they should kiss" LOL. but bear with me, the terminally loyal zhuzhi-lang paired with the terminally disloyal og!shang qinghua equates to a lot of conflict and i am HERE for that oki like the sheer incomprehension of "why the fuck would you be loyal to them at the cost of yourself?? are you stupid?" vs "how can you be such disloyal scum??? what is wrong with you?" (except politer bc zhuzhi-lang lolol) is a combination of contrasting values that i adore to see in a ship

obvs theres airplane x og!shang qinghua and again, i'm here for that, but im currently in sibling au hell so i'll table that for later, but believe me that i see it

qi qingqi, look, my only justification for this one is "it would be hot" and i stand by it LOL

thus far, upon considering my options, i still think i like wei qingwei the most but thats mainly bc i have a canon basis to branch off of and while i love crack (clearly) i also like having a jumping off point. after that, i think it's a tie between zhuzhi-lang and sha hualing (those shang bros sure do love their demons LOL)

conclusions:

og!shangqinghua's birth name is shang jingqi

brother aus are very good, airplane is the best bro a villain could have

he is a greedy, lying, and self serving person and also at least a lil slutty with a tragic backstory

he should totally fuck wei qingwei, zhuzhi-lang, and sha hualing

i am satisfied with my considerations lmao altho i'll prolly make a whole post about how i envision the sibling dynamics between the shang bros because i have THOUGHTS