#And then hard mode: a whole bunch of mouths

[sysig]

Shut up, you entitled waste of space (Patreon)

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

[penvisions]

zest {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Your time away with Joel starts now and he makes you feel all kinds of things.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: canon typical violence (fleeting), canon typical language, canon typical angst, rude people, offensive behavior, body shaming, fat shaming, reader gets shoved one (1) time, reader defends herself, brief misogyny, feral joel, joel beats the crap out of someone, joel goes into protective mode, threatening words, worldview of pregnangy being a negative thing, fat shaming, body shaming, reader is canonically mid-size, illusions to smut, adult content, pet names (darling, baby, love), the term slut used affectionately, some mild spice, flirting, they're insufferable your honor. um i think those are all the major ones pls let me know if i need to add more!

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: hi y'all, it's been a whirlwind lately! been trying to figure out the flow of this and i think i was maybe attempting to force this chapter to be more than this and it just wasn't working + made me frustrated. but you know what? not every chapter has to be massively 3k+, it can just be what feels and flows right, so here y'all go. i hope you enjoy these two as much as i do

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

He's been quiet since leaving the museum, something he had surprised you with a flyer for. He had picked it up in the lobby, had done some research online as he mumbled about some certain paintings, he thought you’d like that were on display, Ellie’s influence strong in his words. His desire to be a good provider and make this trip something to remember. Not that that was too hard, any time spent with Joel was good time, from easy jokes to teasing banter, soft moments as you both reveled in the life you two were leading, the life you two were creating.

Where he had let you guide him from countless exhibits to plentiful ornately framed paintings with a hand clasped around his own. He had seemed engaged enough, eyes alight as you turned to him with wide smiles and small giggles of excitement at the more interesting pieces. It had turned into a little game of 'weirdest little guy' where you each pointed to people and animals in the backgrounds and declared, 'it's you'. He had been the first to start it, by pointing out a woman dressed from head to toe in a tavern maids outfit brandishing a large knife. She had been shouting, her brow heavy and her expression heated.

You had followed his lead by pointing to a rather disgruntled lumberjack in the back of depicting a wintery landscape with a cabin. Though the man impressed in ink had been bald and rather terrified of the approaching bear.

From cats with too human faces, to frogs that looked stunned, to the most bruised or oddly shaded piece of fruit in a bunch or bowl, it had occupied you both throughout the whole building, through everything there was to see. He had brandished a newer, shinier credit card at the gift shop. allowing you the treat of stickers and a coffee mug you had cooed and awed over. But you knew it was the little onesie with colorful peach you had said was him printed on the front.

"To commemorate our first outing as a little unit." You felt so light, so free. Hormones letting you just be yourself at the moment, even if you had to stop to pee quite often. You had said so at the register, the clerk asking after your meaning behind picking it out. Your hands cradling your growing belly as you did so, delighting in the little kicks you had felt stir up as you stood in front of particular pieces. Stirring up at the combined laughter between you and Joel, so much so that you had gotten hushed from a security guard that made it even harder to cut it out. You're picturing the mirth and careful smile on his face even as he held a finger to his mouth in a motion to be quiet, chest rumbling with laughter even as he did so.

But now he was quiet beside you, as he guided the truck into a spot of a rapidly filling parking lot. He's not in a bad mood, per se, but you can sense he's quieted over something in his mind.

"Did- did you enjoy the museum?" You feel silly, like an awkward interloper that first day you had walked in for a first shift at the restaurant. Unaware of how things operated, hesitant to ask where to put your bag or where to get a clean apron from since you hadn't been able to locate yours. Like you had that morning you had woken up to him in your apartment, having slept on the couch after making sure you got home safely. The conversation that had followed, the uncertainty, the almost reproachful way you had asked him what was going on with him, with you, between you both. You feel the same slightly tense and on edge energy around him now as you did back then, when he gave you an impromptu tour of the space and then left you with paperwork to fill out.

You have no clue why perhaps it's the default to being out of town with him. Like there are parts of you he's yet to see and would caste judgement on. Though you know the worst he would do is tease you over something as benign at the way you idle on in the bathroom or fawn over street cats for far too long with a soft, silly coo or the places you tend to pick for coffee being on the extravagant side. 

He thought over his answer, guiding the truck into the parking lot of a coffee house. He had said he would turn a blind eye to whatever decaf drinks you decided to indulge in while out of town. The coffee shop you had seen online garnering your attention and he memorized the drive from the museum.

He’s getting out of the truck, rounding the hood and opening the door as he speaks.

"Not really my cup of tea, but it's yours, darlin'. Do anythin' to spend time with ya and I figured this would light you up like a christmas tree." He's smiling softly at you now, his lips looking perfectly kissable beneath his thick moustache and trimmed facial hair. Face shifting from introspective to present, returning to you and feeding off your nervousness in a way you knew he hoped would settle it.

"I do ramble a lot about stuff from my studies, huh." You can't help the feeling of adoration that floods heat in your face, almost like you've got a schoolgirl crush on the man beside you, despite the ring on your finger and the bump of your belly. His hands are warm on you as they help to steady your movements out of the passenger seat, the tall cab a little daunting and the worry of falling in the forefront of your mind. You were being so cautious, words of failed pregnancies your step mother had cited for the deterioration of your parents relationship.

"Yeah, but I listen to every word even if I don't understand it all." He's brushing those delectable lips against the apple of your cheek. "Listen to ya ramable all day, even if it's about nothin'."

"You're smart too, Joel." Insistent words that are swept away with a brush of his hand over your shoulder. But you can see the way his ears tinge pink at the tops, he's smitten at the idea of you thinking so, even if he doesn't himself.

"Not the same way you are, darlin'. Got math and science smarts, practical. You got the artsy smarts, fun and entertaining. Same as Ellie."

"You and Sarah, me and Ellie. We all balance each other out." You lean up into his space, determined for him to hear the good things you have to say about him. He's a good man, just a little rough around the edges. And he was yours.

"We do, don't we. Perfect little family, all for you." He meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours and stirring butterflies in your ribcage. "You complete us, sabrosa. Been waitin' for you my entire life."

"I've been searching for you my entire life, I just didn't know it, Mr. Miller." His eyes are hooded as he takes in the sight of you so close, pressed to him and held tight by his arms around your waist, your own around his shoulders.

"Glad to have been found, Mrs. Miller." Another kiss, little whimpers telling him exactly how you feel about the confession, the truth of his words that he had tumbled over in his mind every day you were apart. You were his and you were back in his life where you belonged.

It's a little loud, the establishment crowded around the lunch hour. But it's the comforting scent of roasting coffee and the lingering scent of Joel’s cologne on the front of his shirt as he holds you to his chest with his hands around your ribs. Sighing, you look over the menu wanting for each and every interesting flavor combination. But you know you get one today, that’s what you’d limited yourself too because decaf was only so much better than regular espresso. There was no true way to roast out every last bit of caffeine even if the doctor had also agreed a few indulges throughout the pregnancy wouldn’t cause any harm.

“What’re you gonna get?” Joel’s fingers tap lightly at your stomach, the little kicks still going and endlessly entertaining him. Small taps elicited responses more times than not, something you were sure you would never tire of. The feeling of the small being growing inside of you, already so enamored with Joel softening something deep inside of you.

“I think maybe one of macadamia combination ones. Sounds yummy.”

“You know what else sounds…yummy?” His nose is a distraction as it brushes along the back of your head, almost near your ear as he leans closer to it and rumbles his taunting words.

“Joel Miller, if you do anything that prevents me from enjoying my coffee, I swear-“

“Relax, darlin’.” He nips at the top of your ear, causing you to snort at the tickling sensation. “Not gonna come between you and your coffee. Just lettin’ you know where my mind is at.”

“Slut.” You smirk to yourself as he freezes momentarily, allowing you to step out of his hold and toward the counter. You order the macadamia and white chocolate latte, hot and decaf. When asked if that was all for the order, you turn to find Joel closing the gap of a few feet with a smirk of his own.

“I’ll take a blended mocha chip, medium please.” You catch his eyes as he glances at you out of the corner of his own. “Gonna get you back for that, pretty girl.”

“What?” It’s kinda true.” A tongue is stuck out and his eyes dilate every so slightly as he presses the same shiny black credit card to the reader. Never once breaking the contact.

“Then what do you call someone who nearly had me pulling over because she couldn’t keep her mouth to herself on a four hour drive?” He questions lowly as he steps away from the register, wallet going back into the butt pocket of his pants.

“Your fiancé.” You smile sweetly at him, an eyebrow raised in a silent challenge. His chuckle is a low vibration against your shoulder as he shuffles you toward the pickup end of the counter. He’s filthy, but so are you. There’s no denying it, even in jest. That part of your relationship had gotten off to a rocky start but once it had kicked off, damn if that wasn’t something you two were committed to no matter what. The physical attraction so strong, the desire for each other never waning, it’s what started this in the first place and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re too right, perfect match.” Lips curled up in matching smile, you wonder if his heart skips beats and his stomach flips just like yours. Later you find out exactly what you to do him, when he grunts it into your ear as he fills you from behind.

It happens when you’re waiting at the end of the counter for pick up, Joel having run off to the restroom.

“Move your fat ass, tryin’ to get up to the drinks.” You’re shoved harshly with an elbow before the words even register. Your balance sways and your hair tousles to cover your face as you try to reach a hand out to catch yourself on the counter top, but your nails don’t gain any purchase. You collapse hard on the floor. Your palms sting as you try to prevent from landing flat, worry taking over as you do your best to avoid any pressure or damage to your middle. The guy is grumbling as he watches, the remnants of his coffee sloshed around the ceramic and splashed onto his crips white dress shirt.

“Sabrosa!”

Before you could even blink, Joel is right there helping you back up to your feet, a comforting hand on your stomach and on your shoulder as he looks you over. His full lips are a thin line, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he grinds his teeth, but you know it isn’t aimed at you. At your small nod and tight-lipped smile, his hands fall from you and your turn with your arm crooked back. The crack of your fist on the guy’s jaw breaks the jovial atmosphere and everything goes silent as he falls hard on his ass. The ceramic shatters and the remnants of his latte fly into the air.

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

“You assault my girl and didn’t expect anything to happen?” Joel demands angrily as he partially shields you with his own body, unsure if the man will retaliate. He’d gladly let you get in a hit, but you know he’d be damned if someone laid a hand on you. You’d seen it firsthand before, more than once. You’re your own person, as you’ve proven time and time again. Something he rather enjoyed about you, something you hoped he would continue to find endearing. Even as your attitude flared sometimes.

“She was in the way, it was barely a little shove!”

“You steamrolled me, asshole!” You step out from behind Joel a little, anger flaring and temper coming to bat. It was bad enough you had nearly fallen completely in on yourself but to then be brushed off and told it was nothing? You weren’t about to take it with a forced, polite smile and a feeling of guilt for not having handled the situation better later on in the evening.

“She’s pregnant, you fuckin’ idiot!” Joel roars, one of his boots coming down unnervingly close to the guy’s hand as he sets it flat to try and get back up. Lips frowning part to argue, but loud footsteps of workers rushing off to grab a manager cut him off. “You could’ve hurt her or my child with your reckless behavior!”

“Joel-“ You try to pull at his forearm, urging him to calm down. The veins showing in his skin and you can’t help the drag of your eyes across the length of them. Your stomach flips, body and mind reacting to the way he’s standing tall in front of you, ready to defend. It’s making your body hum, the way he’s so willing, so quick to protect. His instincts appealing to the most base part of your brain, your own reacting to them in a way that is utterly and completely primal.

“You knocked up the fat chick and you’re upset at me? Man, you’re in need of something stronger than coffee.” He’s trying to get back up, but Joel’s closing in on him.

“You ever talk about a woman that way again and I will end you!” Joel’s shouting as he allows you to pull him back, his chest heaving and his frizzy curls in disarray. His arm is putty in your hands, thick fingers tangling with yours in a comforting move even as his attention is focused on the man still on the ground.

“I think it’s best if you pick yourself up and leave, sir.” A large man in a plain black outfit approached, his hands on his hips. You don’t bother to respond to him, instead tugging Joel with you as you begin to walk toward the door.

“C’mon Joel, let’s just go too. I want to leave.”

“There’s no need for that, you two are welcome to stay.” The guy who you assume is the manager looks up at you as he crouches down to take the still fuming and arguing man. His polite but genuine smile falls as he hoists the man up and begins to walk him to the door. “We don’t tolerate hateful behavior here, you’re banned.”

“This is bullshit!” His shirt gets ruffled, his outfit wrinkling as he’s manhandled out across the floor. You jump as a hand gently brushed your shoulder, causing you to tense your hand around Joel’s and twirl to the left. Your confusion and slight worry eases when you see it was the barista that had taken your order.

“You’re drinks are ready, love. Are you okay?” Her smile is soft, the drinks offered to you. “That was quite a fall, do you need any water or want to sit down to catch your breath?”

You shake your head slowly, not wanting to remain in the café even if things were turning around and the atmosphere had gone back to what it was when you first entered. The music is playing softly again, though you’re sure it had never gone out, never actually cut to silence anywhere except for in your awareness.

Joel only turns to face her once the offensive man is shoved out the door. Your hand leaves Joel’s to reach for the do go cups, the warmth of the freshly made drinks sinking into your palms and calming you after the tense ordeal. The barista nods to Joel, her eyes wide and roving. You feel jealously wake up inside you as she takes his form in, even with you right beside him. The signs of your devotion to each other clear, from the defense he had taken for you to the way he’s surveying the café for any other signs of trouble. She’s holding out a small bag, her face visibly flushed when his fingers graze hers to accept it.

“We’ve also refunded your transaction, sir. And included a few things from the pastry case for the trouble.” Her hands are clasped in front of her now, the apron over her front marred with dried foam from steamed milk and espresso grounds. She’s pretty, she’s skinny. You can’t help the insecurity that bubbles up, she’s young and her eyes contain the same lust for life you had when you first moved away from home. You aren’t sure if you’re jealous of her obvious attraction to your fiancé or the attraction to life she exudes. She doesn’t seem to carry any mental burdens, like you had from glancing at what lies behind her eyes. But then again, you hadn’t appeared to either while clocked in and focused on working.

“That’s mighty kind of ya, many thanks.” His left arm curls around your waist, his lips brushing your temple once again. The girl nods before turning on her heel and retreated back behind the counter. “Do you want to stay, darlin’? You were so excited to sit in and look at all the photographs on the wall.”

“I…I would like to go, please.” You look up at him, catching his eye feeling off kilter. Social battery completely drained and yearning for the privacy of your lush hotel room and a bath.

“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel. We can take it easy until our evening reservations. How about I run us a nice, hot bubble bath, hmm?” His hand curls and guides you to stand directly in front of him, eyes searching your face. “We can soak until we’re all pruned up and I’ll even run it a little hotter for your comfort. Sound good?”

“I love you.” You surge up and press your lips to his cheek. His smile when you pull back grips around your heart and your stomach flips again, butterflies bursting to life. You do, you love him with everything you are, with everything you transformed into. His love in return the only thing that made you feel like you never had before. He was right, he had been waiting for you while you wandered and figured out what it was you wanted. You weren’t sure you had ever even explicitly voiced it or even discovered what it was beyond getting your credentials and teaching. But he had helped you to discover that what you wanted was a life with him. A simple, nurturing and real relationship with someone who saw you for exactly who you were.

You wanted to make sure he knew that as you connected your lips with his smiling ones.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes, hmm? Somethin’ tells me you got some thoughts swirling around in that pretty head of yours.” He whispers against them, breath hot and teeth teasing your bottom one for the barest of seconds, the action sending a shiver down your spine. All you can do is nod as he pivots and leads you back to the truck.

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker @clevergirl74 @anavatazes

@samiamproductions @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @sarap-77 @koshkaj-blog

@corazondebeskar-reads @ozarkthedog @littlemisspascal @endlessthxxghts

@its-nebuleuse @guiltyasdave @sawymredfox @cumberpegg @grandanchorkitten

@noisynightmarepoetry @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @pazizz @pullingattheroots

@bunniboo0015 @anoverwhelmingdin @copperhalfcent @starry-eyes-love

[letstalkhockey]

jack bringing his daughter to his lake house and his friends finally meet her and they are so shocked at how well jack is as at dad but how much he has changed too

Oh my god, this is so cute.🥺💞

(Reminder to send in any thoughts, quick blurb ideas, or even story ideas for this AU.)

There was no doubt jack had grown and matured ever since his sweet Angel, Sophie, was born. He started making sure to become the best dad for his sweet girl, and no one would convince him otherwise.

As Jack pulled into the driveway of the lakehouse, he took notice of the cars from everyone including his older, and younger brother, and a few of his friends, Trevor, cole, and cam. The regulars at the lake house. Season had just ended for them all, so they were more than ready to start boat days.

Trevor, cam, and cole had yet to formally meet Jacks daughter, Sophie. They would hear all about her, because it’s all Jack would talk about, but they hadn’t met her, nor have they seen a whole bunch of jack in his ‘normal’ space. After she was born just about a year ago, Jack took some time off to be home with his sweet baby. To take care of her and learn how to be her dad, when he had to go back to playing it was about halfway into the season, and it was hard on him, he was busy with taking care of his daughter, but also with his career.

Parking his car in the driveway of the lake house even felt a little different - different than last year, this time, when he was in a complete different spot in his life. It felt bittersweet - almost like he was scared, scared to go in. He knew the boys were already here and expecting him, but he wanted nothing more than to turn home. He was scared, not of Quinn and Luke, but the other three, it would be there first time meeting the absolute Angel jack created, and it would be there first time seeing jack in full father mode.

to say the least, he was nervous.

After he parked, he got out and went to open the back seat, revealing his sweet girl fast asleep, her paci in her mouth, and her arms flailed over the sides of the car seat. What jack hadn’t known was that Two of the boys - luke, and cole - watched them from the front door, cole was so eager to meet his best friends daughter, he was the first to run to the door. Luke made sure to follow, just because he knew cole hadn’t met her yet.

Jack slowly, and gently unbuckled the seatbelt from across her car seat, she was covered up in her blanky, so he scooped her up into his arms so gentle, trying his best not to wake her peaceful state of slumber, while he went onto grab his duffel bag and throw that over his shoulder, as well as the baby bag. With y/n in one arm, and his bags on the other, he made his way to the front door, still not noticing cole or Luke waiting for him, his focus stayed onto his daughter in hand, making sure she didn’t wake up just yet. Not after the morning of crying she went through because she had been awake the entire night.

The other boys were warned by the two other brothers about helping jack out this summer, and they made sure to take note of it, Jack needed it, he wanted to be able to still be his best dad self, but also enjoy his time off with his friends.

“Here, let us help.” He heard Luke say while making his way through the front door, quickly handing off his bags to Luke. Meanwhile cole stood next to him, in complete awe, but also because of how sweet jack seemed towards his daughter. “Is this really your daughter?” Colwsaid, still in shock.

Jack let Luke make his way up the stairs with his, and his daughters bags, while he stopped to talk to cole. Jack looked up from his sweet baby that slept sounding in the comfort of her dad’s arms. With that - “Yeah, this is her,” Jack smiled while he held her out just a little further so cole could get a good look at her.

“She looks just like you,” Cole started at him and his daughter, “I know.” Jack spoke so soft, sophie stirred in his arms and her eyes fluttered. "i still cant believe it," Cole said, "that your a father and all,"

"neither can i most days." Sophie yawned in his arms, paci still in her mouth and her small body moving in the comfort of her dad. Making a small noise in the process. The boys made there way to the living room where Trevor and cam sat, on the couch, rap music blaring, while they cursed and played chel on the tv. When Luke re entered the living room, joining the other boys, he saw the look jack gave him and he immediately found the remote, turning the music off completely.

“Dude, what the fuck-“ Trevor turned his head from the game, cam did too. Both taking notice of jack stood with a baby in his arms.

“Okay what the fuck-“ Cam said, Trevor quickly turned to playfully slap him. Whispering, “stop swearing.”

Trevor quickly stood up and walked over to Jack, meanwhile cam sat, still on the couch, still completely shocked.

-

Throughout the weekend, Jack's friends watched in awe as he effortlessly slipped into the role of doting father. Gone were the late nights of raucous laughter; instead, they shared quiet moments fishing off the dock or teaching Sophie how to skip stones across the lake's still surface.

As the sun set on their last evening together, gathered around a crackling fire, Trevor finally spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

"You know, Jack," Trevor began hesitantly, his eyes reflecting the flames. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd trade in your wild weekends for this... but damn, you're good at it."

Jack nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to where Sophie was curled up in lukes lap, listening intently to a bedtime story.

"She changed everything," Jack admitted quietly, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

His friends exchanged knowing glances, silently acknowledging the transformation they had witnessed. The lake house, once a backdrop for carefree escapades, had become a sanctuary where new memories were forged—one where Jack's old life seamlessly intertwined with the new.

As the fire burned low and stars dotted the night sky, Jack found himself grateful for the friends who had embraced his evolution, and for the daughter who had shown him a side of himself he never knew existed.

[ohtobeleah]

First time Iris stays over the whole night with Jake, and he’s trying to figure out all the ways to make it happen again. Maybe he brings her breakfast in bed?

I feel like Jake & Iris experience a lot of first together. But especially the whole next morning after the first full night together after they become ‘exclusive’ I.R.I.S Masterlist Here.

Warnings: Smut! Jake Seresin x F!mitchell!reader. Undisclosed age gap.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

After about a two hour debate, a solid rebuttal and a flawless conclusion as to why you should be let into the TopGun program again, Beau Simpson ultimately caved and gave you one final shot. He gave you one chance to prove that you could keep a lid on your temper, you’d admit that you knew you had to work on that. Guess hot headed egos ran in the family. But you made sure not to leave until you’d heard that Cyclone would take back the command he’d given to have your points pulled. He did, internal investigation be damned. 

“The only reason I mouthed off in the first place was because you held a gun to my back, sir—“ You explained as Cyclone looked at you with an expressionless face. “You know I’m better than those guys, who my dad is shouldn’t mean shit—it’s not like he helped me get here?” You couldn’t have said anything more perfect, Cyclone raised a single brow your way, you were right. Pete Mitchell had never offered you a helping hand your entire career. “Fuck Bradshaw got more of a handout than I did! He’s a gold star! That’s nepotism too and Goose isn’t even around!” It was a dog shot, but in your case you needed every ounce of leverage. 

“Okay, okay—I hear what you're saying, Lieutenant, I’ll expunge the record.” Tickled pink, you beamed, ecstatic you’d been able to plead your case and enter back into the program. “You Mitchell’s age me ten years every month I swear—“ 

“I still don’t think I should have to suppress myself because of what those idiots think of me. You would survive through this knowing one day your rage would truly be witnessed by the men who poisoned you with it in the first place. “But I’ll do it if that’ll appease them—“ 

“They’re a sensitive bunch I’ve noticed.” Cyclone smirked for a millisecond of time as you sat across from him at his desk—looking all kinds of like your father. Just a little scarier and a lot more unpredictable. “But it’s more to keep you in check than anything else, I’ll scratch your back and keep any allegations of nepotism off your back if you scratch mine and keep your nose clean and out of trouble, understood?” 

It was game time. You were back in business and you were heading back to Jakes to celebrate such a victorious moment. Because fucking a superior officer didn’t correlate with keeping your nose clean and out of trouble did it? 

“In abundance, Sir, you have my word.” But first? It was off to the Hard Deck. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I’mnothometonight—“ You practically said it without so much as a second in between words. It all came out against your dads cheek in one single moment as you kissed him goodbye and headed towards the front door with a bag full of stuff slung over your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

“Woah woah?” Pete frowned as he looked up from his book, perched on his favourite recliner enjoying a good cup of tea. He was in full relaxation mode. “Where are you off to?” You’d prepared for this moment, you knew there was a chance Mav would ask you where you were going. So you’d already come up with a cover story to get you out of the house. 

“My friends in town, Lily? She got a hotel room up at the gorge.” 

“You didn’t tell her she could just stay here?” 

“What? And have you all up in my business?” You groaned. “I’m not sixteen anymore dad, I’m an adult—I’ve got my work gear with me so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Pete just looked at you over the top of his reading glasses, something was up, something was incredibly up here and he knew better than to trust your word. Why? Because you were his damn daughter. 

“Alright well just don’t go crazy, you fly a multi million dollar fighter jet for a living—keep your wits about yourself on a Wednesday night, kid.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder if you wanted to as you grabbed your keys from the key bowl near the front door. 

“Bye dad, love ya guts.” You chuckled to yourself as you left, did you feel bad about lying to Mav? Not entirely. It was for his own good. The poor guy would have a heart attack if he knew what you were up to and who you were doing. 

But did you feel any ounce of regret? No—because Jake Seresin was the perfect amount of thrill, the perfect high, the perfect rush to any thrill seeker. And you were addicted. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake knew you were coming over so he did his best to freshen up the place. That’s not to say his house wasn't clean–because it was. But he lit a candle and fluffed the pillows on the lounge and spent a little longer than he would ever like to admit researching what was the correct way for toilet paper to roll. Over and under he still didn't know. He went under. 

“I parked down the street–” You made sure to tell Jake as he opened the door for you. “Mav grilled me pretty hard when I told him I was heading out for the night so I thought it was probably a good idea.” 

“Hi to you too Iris.” Jake chuckled as you walked on it. 

“Hi Hangman–” You cooed. Turning on your heels as you dropped your bag off your shoulder.” You look. Good.” 

“Oh I am good Iris–” Jake smirked wildly as he backed you up against the wall in the entryway. Leaning on the cream painted dividing wall with his hands on either side of you, trapping you there against him. “I'm very good, but I'm even better now that you’re here.” Jake maintained his gaze as you drank in the sight of him, dropping your hands to play at the waistband of his sweatpants. Exposing the elastic band of his boxer briefs. “It's good to see you.” It was a nod to Jake's declaration that he was officially seeing someone, Hangman was off the market and very much invested in the entanglement he had going on with none other than Pete Mitchell's incredibly hot headed and beautiful daughter. 

“You just saw me when I demolished you at pool.” 

“Ah, ah, correct yourself there Iris, you mean when I let you demolish me at pool.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night there deadman–” Jake was the one who leaned in first, connecting his lips with yours in a fever dream kiss. His hands made quick work to cup your cheeks, spreading your legs further apart with his foot against yours. “Jake–” You moaned into his mouth as one of his hands came down to find its way into your sweat pants. Both wearing grey, just in different fonts. 

“I wanna try something, but you gotta trust me.” Jake had a wicked glare in his eyes as he ducked his hand into your pants. The gentle motion he used to spread your lips apart and find the sweet, sweet spot that needed all his attention made you forget how to breathe. “Do you trust me Iris?” Jake asked as he slowly but surely worked the pads of two of his digits against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Come on baby, tell me you trust me?” 

“I trust you–” You sighed out, rolling your hips as Jake used his fingers to expertly guide you towards your first orgasm. You weren't there yet, you weren't even close. But you were going to be very soon if Jake kept going exactly how he was. “Fuck, yes, I trust you–” 

It was all Jake needed as he pulled his hand out from your pants and scooped you up. With a gasp you wrapped your legs around Jake's waist as he connected his lips to your once more and walked you to the living room. His bedroom was too far away, he needed you now and the lounge would just have to do. As he dropped you down carefully, Jake stood over you. He said one word that made you soak your panties right through, but it wasn't like you were going to need them anyway. 

“Strip–” You didn’t hesitate as you saluted your Lieutenant Commander almost seductively. 

“Yes sir.” 

In a needy and almost giddy fashion, both you and Jake stripped down, articles of clothing were discarded in not so respectable piles on the floor before Jake was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head as he kissed up and down the expanse of your next, leading down to your exposed chest to take you nipples in his mouth one by one. 

“God your tits are perfect, you’re perfect baby.” Jake mumbled as he looked up at you looking down at him with your tit in his mouth. It was truly a sight that made you feral. “Now I'm usually one for foreplay, you know me, but we’re gonna do things a little differently tonight.” Jake stated a matter of factly as he sat back and pumped himself a few times, just thinking about what he was about to do. He needed to confirm his suspicion because the unknown was killing him. “I know you're ready for me though–” It was true, you were, and as Jake jerked himself off, you reached out to help guide him down between your legs. 

“Need you, now.” Slowly, inch by inch, Jake buried himself inside you. Watching as your jaw slacked and your eye rolled as you stretched and welcomed him to the hilt. “Ohh yess–” 

“Fuck you’re so perfect, such a perfect cunt Iris.'' Jake made sure to kiss the pulse point at the juncture of your neck as he throbbed away inside you. Staying still for a second before he began to rock his hips. “Holy shit so good–”

“Love your cock so fucking much–ahh!” It felt so good to be so full, but this wasn't what Jake needed to do. He needed to call someone, he needed to fuck you while he called someone to see if he had really formulated a connection, if the idea of really loosing every he had got him off to a new extreme. Jake had called it the Mitchell effect, and he was as deep inside it as he could get. “What are you doing?” 

Jake reached out to the coffee table, not once slowly his thrust as he grabbed his phone. 

“Shhh–” Jake manoeuvred the two of you into a different position, he made it all look so easy with strong arms encapsulating you and putting you wherever he wanted, wherever he needed you. Where he wanted you was on his lap, warming his cock as you slowly rode his shaft, still with a curious expression on your face as Jake pressed the name in his phone that sent your blood pressure skyrocketing when he turned the phone around to show you who he was calling. 

Maverick: 

“Oh my god! Jake no what are you—!” Within seconds of your heart sinking into your stomach Jake sat forward to press a palm against your mouth. With wide eyes and a soft moan you looked at him as if he were crazy. He was, he was crazy because he was with you. 

“Shhh, don’t let daddy know you're riding me baby.” Jake's phone rang once, twice, three times on loud speaker. “You wouldn’t want Mav finding out his daughter is a little whore now would you?” It made your core tighten around Jake's cock as he thrust into you. Keeping a hand over your mouth and squishing your nose. “Would you?” Jake was waiting for you to give him a response, you nodded softly as the fourth ring rang out and your dads voice came through the phone. 

“Hangman—“ Pete’s voice was gruff as he answered the phone. “What’s up man? Is everything okay?” 

“Hey Mav—“ Jake replied as casually as he could as he fucked up into your tight little pussy, your arousal dripping down his shaft like to tomorrow as he kept a palm pressed harshly over your mouth. “Yeah nah everything’s good, I was just ringing to see if Iris had any luck with Cyclone today?” It was a question Jake could have asked you, it was a question he could have asked you at the Hard Deck even—or asked Pete! But he wanted to wait, wait until you were riding his cock. “I didn’t get a chance to catch you.” 

Jake placed his phone down beside him on the lounge as he pulled you forward against his chest, reminding you to keep quiet before he pulled his hand away from your mouth. Mouthing a silent ‘keep quiet’ your way before he took your arms and wrapped them behind your back. 

“Yeah, yeah she said he’s gonna give her another chance, so long as she keeps a lid on your attitude and doesn’t get into any mischief.” Mav laughed to himself all the while Jake placed his feet firmly on the ground as he held your hip with your hand and your forearms behind your back with the other and fucked up into you. Deep and harsh. 

“Oh yeah that’s real good isn’t it.” Jake smirked as he buried himself inside you. “She’s a good kid man, didn’t deserve that—“ 

Against Jake shoulder you sunk your teeth into golden skin to stop yourself from singing out in utter euphoria. This was wrong, so fucking wrong yet you felt like every nerve ending in your body had been set alight. Jake could feel you tightening around him, your velvet walls took him in without mercy and threatened to keep his length hostage. 

“She is, just do me a favour and don’t give her any special treatment?” Mav added. “People know you’re like family, just like Rooster, if she slips up you pull her up no questions no hesitation.” 

“You have my word Mav, no special treatment for little miss Mitchell.” Jake could feel his orgasm barreling towards him as he let go of your arms and let you sit up. Gripping your hips as tight as he could as he lifted his own and fucked harder and deeper and faster into you as you threw your head back and cupped at your own mouth to stop yourself from screaming. “Anyway, I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, Seeya tomorrow Jake, have a good night.” Mav signed off as Jake hung up with the single press of a button. The moment you knew the call was over you cried out into the heavens above. 

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!” You hissed as you and Jake toppled from the lounge to the floor. “Ahh god I’m gonna cum, fuck!!!” You cried as Jake fell on top of you. Wrapping you in his arms as he continued to fuck you with force. He was so close. 

Damn—his suspension was true. He had formed a connection. Fuck. 

“I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna fill this little cunt of yours baby.” Jake babbled to himself as he reached between the two of you, rubbing small circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves. “Cum for me Iris, cum with me, cum on my cock beautiful I know you want to.” 

“Jake! Fuck yes yes don’t stop!” It was nearly overwhelming but you were there. You got there in the end and with a moan that could have only escaped from God's golden gates, you came as hard as you ever had as Jake spilled himself inside you. “Ahhhh god yes!!” 

“Fuck my life I’m screwed—“ Jake sighed and he buried his head in your chest. Kissing along the curves of your swollen breasts. “I’m so fucking done for.” 

“Jake?” You sighed, both panting heavily as you came down from your respective highs. 

“Yeah babe?” Jake looked at you, with golden hair clinging to his forehead and sweat coating his body, making him glistening in the dim light of his living room. 

“You have three seconds to get off me before I fucking kill you for that.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

When you woke up in Jake’s bed to see he wasn't there, wrapped in the mess of tangled sheets next to you. Your heart sank for a brief second. The slight nervousness was quickly replaced by reassurance and the smell of bacon and eggs and what could only be the undeniable notes of burnt raisin toast. You weren't alone–Jake was just in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. 

He’d never cooked breakfast for anyone the morning after, because you were the first woman he’d ever wanted to cook breakfast for the morning after and he wanted to do it over and over and over again. 

“Mornin–” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes and padded into the kitchen. One of Jake's crew neck jumpers had become your attire of choice. It smelt like him in all the best ways. Notes of creamy vanilla and aged bourbon from his time at the Hard Deck, fresh ripe pear and hints of beautiful freesia coated the fibres of the navy crew–his scent of choice for cologne. 

“Hi–” Jake sent you a smile when he caught sight of you. Bed hair looking all kinds of messed up and unruly, no makeup–although you never really wore much to begin with. His jumper adorning your body just barely covering your ass. The sleeves were a little long on you which made it even easier for the fabric to just encompass you. “You sleep well?” 

“You run hot like a furnace.'' Jake chuckled softly as you came to wrap your arms around his mid second from behind, pressing your cheek into the warmth of his exposed back. “But I quite liked it.” A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as the sound of bacon sizzling away in the frying pan babbled away. “You make enough for two?” 

“I didn't know how you liked your eggs so I just guessed.” There was a soft hume creeping across the apples of Jake's cheeks as he felt you unwrap your arms from his mid second. “Hope over easy is alright, and there's coffee in the pot.” 

“Man of my dreams.” You sighed as you padded over to the coffee pot, working to pour yourself some liquid energy into the mug Jake had gotten out for you. “You treat all hookups with this kinda bed and breakfast service?” There had been a definite shift in your dynamic with Jake recently. Things were becoming real, serious, all consuming and suddenly it wasn't just sex. There were feelings here, real and raw emotions the two of you didn't exactly know how to navigate. 

But there was no harm in being honest. 

“Uh, no–actually.” Jake turned to face you, a pair of tongs in his hand as the other came up to rub the back of his head nervously. “I actually haven't cooked breakfast for someone before, you know, after–” 

“Oh.” You caught what Jake was trying to imply. “I'm uh, honoured then, I guess.” As you took a sip of the coffee you'd just poured yourself and held the warm mug in the palms of your hands. You sauntered back over to where Jake stood with his low hanging sweatpants and his morning wood bulging through. “I'm very honoured actually, so much so I might just go back to bed with this amazing coffee and settle back in and wait–” 

“Wait for what exactly?” Jake questioned as he dipped down to take your lips hostage with his for a fleeting moment. Pulling you closer by the small of your back. 

“For you to bring me breakfast in bed.” You smirked, walking two of your fingers up the expanse of Jake's chest. “I'm still a little tired from last night, Lieutenant Commander–” Jake felt his heart skip a beat as you kissed him, he felt his whole world shift when you swiped your tongue across his lip to gain access to his mouth. He let you in with ease as he followed your lead and deepened the kiss. Only to feel you pull away seconds later. “Breakfast in bed, you me?” It was an open invite for Jake to join you, the corners of his lips curled into a cheshire cat grin as he nodded. 

You really had become someone of import to Jake. Your weren’t just Mavs daughter anymore. You weren’t just Mavs daughter that Jake was messing around with. You were exclusive, dating, you were officially unofficial because no one knew. So as you smiled up at Jake, wearing his crew neck in his kitchen drinking coffee from his mug? He thought maybe you were worth all the risks that came along with being with you.

Because being with you made Jake Seresin feel more alive than flying ever had.

“Give me five minutes and it's a date.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Good Morning aviators, this is your captain speaking–” Maverick had somewhat coined this Basic fighter manoeuvres speech since he'd first done it with the dagger squad who were all now his friends and respected colleagues, some as it would turn out, were a hell of a lot closer to family than he thought. “Welcome to basic fighter manoeuvres–as briefed earlier, today's exercise is dogfighting.” If there was one thing about your dad you did admire, it was his ability to seamlessly and effortlessly get under your skin without even trying. “Guns only–no missiles.” He knew you were out for blood, he knew you were set on seeking revenge and this was his way of promptly and professionally telling you to pull your head in before he smacked it off your shoulders. “We do not go below the hard deck of five thousand feet, working as a team, you have to shoot me and Lieutenant Commander Seresin down, or else.” 

“Or else what, Sir?” P:E smirked into the comms as you rolled your eyes. You knew, it was kinda a drag that you knew your dad like the back of your own hand. You were one in the same. You knew because well, if it was you in Pete Mitchell's shoes you'd be just as cocky, if not worse. 

“Or else we shoot back–” Jake's voice came in hot and strong through the comms and the thought of taking him down a peg in such an exercise that could see you back in the game if you did had your whole pussy throbbing as your grip tightened around your throttle. “If we shoot either one of you down, you both lose.” Putting Jake Seresin in his place in the sky was your number one priority, especially after the stunt he pulled last night calling your dad. 

“This guy needs an ego check.” Back on land in the rec room, Bradley Bradshaw had never experienced a case of deja vu harder in his life as Rebound rolled his eyes and puffed his chest. “We’ll see to that, won’t we boys?” 

“Hangman, for a while there fellas, was the only aviator on active duty with a confirmed air to air kill.” Rooster didn't even look up from the written assessments he was grading on what it means to be a good TopGun pilot. He could tell right from the get go whose response he was reading before he even looked at the name. “He’ll be sure to make you work for it today, you can count on that.” 

“Did anyone notice Iris was back in Normex this morning?” Lieutenant Davie ‘Trash’ White asked as he stuffed his face with a protein bar he’d just brought from the vending machine, he always needed something in his stomach before a flight. Something small and light and that would keep him full for a while because he wasn't gonna wanna eat for some time after landing. “Didn't take daddy dearest long at all to step in and pull the ‘But she's my daughter’ card on Cyclone.” Bradley's ears grew hot as he tried to mind his business. He couldn't help but to listen as the guys who all sat around waiting for their turn ragged on you. All taking turns obliterating your self worth, your value. “The fucks that about? I thought she quit the program after Hangman dragged her into Cyclones office for a double-teamed spanking?”

“She's wasting her time, as if the Admirals would allow a Mitchell to take TopGun, they barely let Mav himself back on sight after his stint.” Coen ‘Rebound” Rhodes smirked to himself as he flipped through one of the old aviation textbooks on the bookshelf. “I would've just taken the spanking.” Rooster, as professional as he was, was a prankster, a grade A shit stirrer just like his dad had been. He’d brought the nerf gun to piss of Coyote but in all honesty, the childrens toy that say in the bottom drawer of the study desk he was currently sitting at came in handy right about now as he pulled it out, loaded it silently and sent a single bullet flying into the middle of Coens big ass forehead. “Aye! What was that for?” 

“I found out how you got your callsign the other day, just how the hell you ended up here really makes me question the state of the US Navy.” The group of aviators all chuckled and laughed at Braldey Bradshaw's comment that made Rebound go silent. “I’m sure you’re all aware of what Iris stands for, don't let her out of your sight because the second you do it's over for you lot and me and all the other guys around here don't need your poor performances to prove that she's already a shoo in for this, despite your ugly ass tactics to get her to bail on herself.” 

“You know. I don’t think I like what you're insinuating there Rooster—“ Coen snarked as he stood his ground with his arms crossed over his chest. Fanboy was only just now coming in to gather the next group ready for preflight. “Sounds an awful lot like you're defending someone who you see as a sister to me?” Everyone went silent as Rebound thought he’d gained the upper hand, he hadn’t. There was an awful lot Bradley Bradshaw could put up with in life, but listening to people degrade his family, the small select few he had left, was not something he could tolerate in a professional or personal environment. 

“You won’t like the foot that’ll go up your ass in three point five seconds if you don’t act your rank, Lieutenant.” Bradley fired another nerf bullet Rebounds way as he smirked and watched the sorry excuse of an aviator duck for cover. “Sit down and shut up before I report you for misconduct.” 

“Ill take him off your hands, Rooster–” Mickey chuckled. “You too krod.” Spell it backwards and you'll understand why Levi ‘Krod’ Henderson was such a huge dork. “Up in twenty, on my time so move it or lose it lads.” Mickey sent Rooster a nod that asked if he was good. Bradley nodded back, explaining in a single motion that he was in fact, okay. 

Just don't ask him to tell you that he knew for a fact Pete had pulled your name from the TopGun poll of potential candidates on at least three separate occasions because he knew that you'd get coined as the nepotism baby like no other person. Did Rooster agree with Mavs tactics, no– he didn't. But much like his own struggles with Mav pulling his papers for the Naval Academy, he grew to understand the motive behind his actions. 

He just wanted to protect his daughter. 

“What was that about?” Mickey asked as he walked over to where Bradley sat, watching as he stretched his arms above his head and let out a groan. Dropping his weapon in the process.

“Oh I don’t even know at this point, Iris has me all kinds of worked up as of late.” Bradley tried to shrug it off. “She doesn’t make it easy to defend her when she’s fucking around with Hangman and mouthing off to admrials and—“ 

“Woah woah woah, back up, Iris and Jake?” Mickey leaned over the desk Bradley was sitting at. “The hell are you talking about Rooster?” Bradley hadn’t even noticed what he’d said before it was too late to take it back. He looked at Fanboy like a deer caught in headlights. 

Fuck. 

“Fanboy you can’t tell a soul!” Rooster hissed as he stood, looking around the now empty rec room as he ran his hands through his hair. “Fucking hell and for the love of everything that’s good in this world don’t tell Mav!” 

“Tell Mav what!? I don’t even know what you mean by Iris and Jake!” Mickey shouted through gritted teeth, he could already feel himself burning up. His Abuela would kill him if she knew he was harbouring secret scandals like this. “Are they sleeping together?” 

“Worse—“ Bradley sighed. “They’re dating.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

[whydoiluvcoffee]

alr since @thelonelydreams humbly requested, I'm making MICHEAL HOLDEN HEADCANONS BC MICHEAL HOLDEN SUPREMACY (btw im using the show micheal not book micheal):

He LOVES cheese. will drown his food in cheese. once went on a date with Tori where they had pasta. He just loaded it up with cheese (tori just casually regretting her life choices atm).

Sorta canon but he's a total dog person. just loves them and would keep some when he gets his own place.

Just starts working directly instead of going to college (in solitaire, he mentions that he has no plans of doing college).

Squirts ketchup into his mouth. like at a diner or something where he takes the squeezy bottle and just, squeezes it right into his mouth.

He's a mix of a golden retriever and an orange cat personality-wise.

Has undiagnosed audhd (was totally a gifted kid growing up but then school got hard).

Spends lots of time online on tumblr and fanfiction sites (for sherlock x watson fics)

Writes his own sherlock x watson fics and uploads them onto AO3/wattpad or smth.

The song "Wake Up" by Cheese People is definitely in his playlist.

Has repressed anger most of the time (may have tried to sh to cope with it but didn't work for him so he stopped).

Is that weirdo who loves pineapple pizza (him and tori have opposing pizza tastes).

Has seen "The Perks Of Being A Wallflower" and enjoyed it.

Would be the main character of an indie film (yk those 2000's ones with the whole vibe).

Doesn't bother with taking care of his hair (it has a soul of its own at this point since it's wild).

Didn't know how to tie a tie or his shoelaces until he was 13 or smth.

Tori, Charlie, Nick and Oliver are his found family (and nick's dogs ofc).

Cries when he gets emotional/has an anger outburst.

Climbed trees when he was younger, fell and something happened, next thing yk his eye is now blue (his heterochromia) and that eye is really weak he can't see too well from it.

Is always that one friend whose just, there, in the sidelines, not really included in anything but really wants a band of mates to call his own.

Listens to Glass Animals, Cavetown, Green Day, and just a bunch of indie and 2000's music.

Hates wearing shorts, it's a sensory issue for him tbh.

Is passively suicidal but having Tori in his life reduced that a bit or else according to him, who else would make her feel okay at times?

Becomes a professional speed skater in the future (sorta canon ig?)

Pedro Pascal and Leonardo DiCaprio were his pan awakening. In middle school, he wouldn't mind dating anyone, regardless of gender. Then later on realized that it was an actual thing called being pan and yea just a bunch of questioning before realizing ig.

Doesn't need physical intimacy in a relationship, he's fine with hugs and kisses and that stuff.

Would LOVE carnivals and their games, food, rides etc.

Likes wearing crocs, just ridiculous lime green froggie crocs. Switches them between default and "sports" mode.

hope y'all like it.

[elslittlestories]

Will it ever be enough?

The Bad Batch fanfiction - Hunter x Gender neutral Reader (You)

Words count: 4,7k Read on AO3

This is an edited and extended version of "The morning after" 3-parts series I posted before.

Summary: Hunter goes into crisis after spending the night with you...You both try to work this out.

A reflection around sensory issues and asexual relationships, so not your typical romance!

In my AU, Tech survived and they all live happy on Pabu.

Warning: discussion of sex, but nothing explicit. I'd say it's okay for teen audiences.

I experimented with the second person writing and mixing two internal POV.

1 – The morning after

Slowly, Hunter lifts your arm from his waist and slips out of the bed, careful not to wake you up. A sigh of relief escapes him as he closes your bedroom door and he makes his way outside of your house. Your porch is a perfect spot to enjoy the morning light rising above the ocean. The fresh air helps relax his muscles.

If Tech were here, he’d say that Hunter learned something about himself and that’s enough to make last night’s experience worthy. Hunter’s not so sure. Well, it’s more that he’s not happy about what he found out. He can’t sleep with someone. At least not if that someone spoons him like you did all night.

It sorts of amazes him how this was the first time he ever had somebody in his bed. But he just spent sleepless hours thinking about it and couldn’t remember one. There wasn’t any mission in which they were forced to sleep against each other and he never had the opportunity, nor the envy, to get in bed with a stranger.

Sure, he held his brother until they fell asleep a bunch of times when they were kids, but he’d always sneak away to go back to his bunk. Omega has dozed off against him a bunch of times, but then he’d put her in her own bed. Beside he was mostly clothed and never really had to endure that skin to skin sensation. The stickiness of it.

Hunter shivers. No, last night was definitely a first. A first time for a lot of things…

He’s still not sure how it all happened. One minute he was dancing with you at a beach party—Omega had talked both of you into it—the next you were kissing him. He froze, brain gone blank, but everybody started to cheer around you, so he went on autopilot mode and mirrored you. And to be fair, the kisses were nice. As long as it was dry lips pressing against each other, that is.

Thanks to Tech never shutting up about the things he does with Phee, Hunter is aware of how romantic relationship are supposed to work. Although, he didn’t know it could go from kissing to have sex in one evening, unless it was one of those hook-ups in a bar some of the regs were bragging about.

You must have gotten caught up in the moment and he rolled with it, just like he does with any new social interaction he’s presented. If everyone is so keen about sexual intercourse, he figured it ought to give it a try. Now that he’s done it, he doesn’t understand what’s so thrilling about the whole ordeal.  

He flexes his fingers as another shiver ripples over his body. There’s a reason he wears gloves nearly all the time: he and textures have never been close friends… And last night had a lot of new textures! He trembles violently, the sour taste of disgust coming back to him. Closely followed by shame.

It was hard not to push you away, to go through it without having a full-on meltdown. Something tells him he shouldn’t be reacting like this. That it might hurt your feelings. But then he remembers the way your tongue felt in his mouth and shudders.

He can feel it coming. The overload. His skin itches. He wants to strip off the little clothes he has on. Maybe diving in the ocean would sooth him? The waist band of his briefs is digging into his flesh. A breeze of wind moves his hair, they brush his nape like a thousand shards.

He leaps to his feet, jaw clenched, hands frantically brushing his hair away from his neck. He needs that bath. Now! He only realizes he’s walking when the ground under his feet changes from the wood boards of your porch to the uneven gravel of the alley.

At some point during his descent toward the shore, he wonders if he should have left you a note, but the idea of turning around is sickening. He scratches the back of his neck. The feeling of his own sweat on his skin makes his want to rip it off.

In the far, Pabu’s port wakes up, but otherwise he encounters nobody. Thank the stars! He couldn’t find the energy to even nod if he met someone. Might even get violent if they so much as slow him down.

His bare feet hit the sand, a signal for his brain that he’s almost there. His chest tightens in anticipation, and he runs the last strides. A wave crashes on his ankles, he suppresses a moan, pulse racing. Two more steps and he’s thigh high in the ocean. That’ll do. He dives.

The pressure and cold of the water on his skin give him the expected respite, but already his lungs are screaming for air. He surfaces up, half blinded by hair clinging to his face. In a mess of harsh, uncoordinated movements, he pushes on his feet to get into deeper water and kicks his briefs off. This time he takes a long breath before diving and let the ocean cradle him. The itchiness turns into a light tingle, like he can feel his blood rushing to every bit of his flesh. He swims furthers, dives deeper to get more pressure, until his body feels under control.

The sun is floating over the horizon by then. Hunter knows he should go back to your place before you wake up. Part of him wished you were just a one-night thing, so that he could pretend he doesn’t care about any of this. But you’re a dear friend to him, have been for a while now. He cares about you. In ways he can’t quite grasp for all he knows, Omega aside, is brotherhood and soldiers’ comradery.

Shame creeps back into his chest as he swims toward the beach. What is he going to do? What is he going to tell you? He stands up when he reaches shallow waters and slowly makes his way to the deserted beach. The feeling of his skin drying out under the morning sun keeps his mind somewhat calm until he hears footsteps coming his way.

He tenses, senses in alert. It’s a light sound, they’re barefooted and alone. Most likely you. A glance back tells him his briefs are drifting out of reach. He’d give anything to have Wrecker’s easiness with public nudity right now!

“I figured you might need this,” you chuckle as you appear around the pile of rocks boarding the beach with a towel.

You have the decency to look at his face while he reaches for the cloth. He thanks you with a smile, despite the knots twisting his guts. You wait for him to secure the towel around his waist before you step in and wrap your arms around his neck with a:

“Good morning, handsome.”

You gently pull him into a kiss, pecking his lips. He complies passively, his cheeks burning up.

“I wouldn’t mind finding my bed empty every morning if it means being treated with that sight,” you add.

From the way you modulate your tone, he’s not sure if you mean his fluster or his nakedness. His confusion prevents him for anticipating what comes next and he can’t suppress a recoil when your tongue darts on him, asking for a deeper kiss. Whatever confidence you had until now vanishes from your face as you take a step back. Hunter mentally curses himself.

“Is something wrong,” you ask.

You seem more worried that sad or angry, which will hopefully work in his favor.

“I— Uh… I’m sorry, I…”

Too many words come at once to his mind and none of them reach his mouth. The pounding of his heart doesn’t help. He feels hot and cold at the same time, chest heavy, palms sweaty. You take another step back.

“Let me guess,” you say, bitter, “last night was a mistake? Just a one-night stand, maybe?”

Hunter opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. It does feel like a mistake, something he’s not looking forward to doing again. He compels himself to answer something and musters an unconvincing “No.”

“Don’t bother, it’s okay,” you wave him off.

This time the hurt is clear on your face and it’s a stab right to his chest.

“I should have known this was too good to be true,” you keep on, already turning away. “Guys like you don’t go out with someone like me.”

He should catch you, pull you into a kiss and pretend everything’s okay, if only to stop you from thinking you’re not worthy of him. He could, part of him wants to, but he doesn’t. He’s completely lost. He needs more time to think this through and avoid doing more damage. For now, maybe he deserves your spite…

As you climb back home, your anger swells, hot in your belly, tight in your chest. It’s hard to tell who you resent the most, Hunter or yourself. You slam your front door and pace around the living room, desperate to blow off some steam before you explode.

Cleaning should help. You pick up your top from the couch where you scattered it last night. Hunter’s shirt is tangled with it. Your heart shrinks. Tears threaten to escape your eyes. You’re so hopelessly in love with him…

No! You hate him! He deserves none of you pain! He wasn’t even good in bed, rumors had it all wrong about him. It wouldn’t surprise you if this was his first time. Blast, he probably thought he could use you for practice and discard you like trash!

You gather all his stuff, trembling with rage, and shove it all at the end of the pathway leading to your house. You don’t want to see him ever again! No matter what that small voice in the back of your head says.

2 – The week after

Hunter stands at your front door, staring at you while he waits for your answer.

“You’ve got some nerves,” you say.

It’s been a week since that party on the beach, the kiss you shared and…everything else. Maybe asking you to go for a walk—like he has done so many times since you met, like nothing happened… Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea after all. But he’s not ready to give up.

“Can we just talk?”

You huff, intrigued despite yourself. After all, he’s here, and he does look sorry. You refuse to let hope take over you, but you step away from the door to let Hunter in. He follows you and you both sat across the kitchen table.

“I wanted to apologize,” says Hunter with a slight quaver in his voice.

“Took you long enough,” you can’t help but grouch.

Although it doesn’t bring you the sense of revenge you were looking for. You hate to admit it, but you’ve missed him and part of you is happy he came.

“I know…I needed it. I left Pabu for a few days.”

“So I’ve heard. Omega said you and Tech had some errand to run.”

“We visited some friends. A married couple.”

Hunter pauses, hands fidgeting, before he adds, “For advice.”

The leap your heart makes in your chest makes you dizzy. This time, there’s no stopping the foolish hope that he might love you after all.

“You needed advice from a married couple,” you repeat.

“I…wanted to figure out if what I was feeling was uh…more than friendship?”

Again, his voice gives away his fluster. The contrast with his confident stance is unsettling.

“…and?” you breathe out.

“And…I—Hum…Are you sure you don’t want to take a walk?”

At this point Hunter can’t look your way and his body feels so restless he fears it might trigger another meltdown. He thought he’d taken every precaution to avoid it by wearing his most comfortable clothes and keeping his gloves on. This time it’s not over his senses that he’s losing control.

You take pity on him and agree to follow him outside. Your heart is throbbing, you could use some fresh air. Without a word, you head down toward the beach, keeping an awkward distance between you.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” you say, making an effort of keeping your tone gentle.

Motion is already starting to ease Hunter’s edginess and when he starts speaking again, his voice is more gathered. What he struggles with is organizing his thoughts…

“It’s really important to me that you get that you are not the problem here. The reason I rejected you—it’s got nothing to do with you. I never wanted to make you feel like you didn’t deserve me. Anyone would be lucky to have you. Not that I want you to go with somebody else. Well, unless you want to. I’m not trying to force you into anything. I know I hurt and I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Are you trying to say you…want to be with me?”

The words seem even more foolish said out loud, but your pulse is racing and every part of your body tingles. Your mind is already filling up the blanks for him. He must have panicked because it was his first time. A theory you forbade yourself to think about until now.

“Well, I—…I like you.”

It takes every last bit of control in you for not tripping on the sand.

“I would love to share something with you,” he adds, flexing his hands. “But…”

“Ah,” you say with the wrong kind of butterflies in your stomach. “Here comes the but.”

Hunter looks at you, broken. He searches carefully for his words, toes digging into the sand for anchor.

“I don’t think I’m fit for this kind of relationship.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, your annoyance rising up again.

“I—…I can’t sleep with somebody.”

You stop dead. This discussion is reaching a level of confusion you would never have expected! Hunter turns around to face you, cheeks pink and eyes avoidant.

“Sleep, as in sleep? Or the naughty one,” you hear yourself asking without thinking.

“Er…both? It’s uh…I struggle with the skin on skin contact.”

“And you only found out now?”

“Well, I didn’t have much experience with that until the other night.”

His face takes a darker shade. You can’t believe your ears.

“Nobody ever touched you? Not even a hug?”

“I was always wearing clothes.” Hunter shrugs.

The reality of this man’s life fully sinks into you. Your throat tightens as you try to imagine a child growing up without ever truly feeling the direct warmth of someone else against him.

“Is it okay if I hug you now?”

His eyes widened and you decide you don’t need his permission. You pull him against you and squeeze hard when you feel his arms closing around you.

“That’s so sad,” you whisper.

“It’s no big deal, really,” he replies with an uneasy pat on your back.

You step back, surprised to find your sight blurred.

“This kind of hug works just fine for me,” he smiles.

“Is it because of your enhanced sense?”

“That’s Tech’s theory, yes. I’ve always had issues with touch and texture.”

“Oh…”

There’s a silence as you take the news in and link the dots with your memories from that night, the fact that he never seemed to fully be touching you. Not in the way you were craving for him to touch you.

Hunter resumes walking, you catch up with him to ask:

“How does it feel? The…sensory issues.”

He sighs and doesn’t answer right away.

“Like staring at the sun but you can’t close your eyes.”

Mindlessly, you look up at the sky and squint at the brightness. Something twist inside you.

“So you didn’t have a good time, did you?”

“Not really, no,” he answers with a silent apology.

It makes your guilt flare up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I could just tough it out.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work. We’re supposed to both enjoy ourselves!”

Hunter stares in the far and quietly says: “I’ve never been interested in that, to be honest.”

You frown.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“My friend warned me this pill might be the hardest to swallow,” he makes himself joke.

“I mean, have you seen yourself in a mirror?”

It’s his time to frown, so you add:

“You’re hot, Hunter. Half of Pabu must be fantasizing about you and you’re telling you have zero interest in- in- in…the thing!”

He rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle. He never quite understood what people saw in him in that regard, but his brothers have made him aware of it in various teasing ways. Until now he just didn’t realize the fact that he never ever reciprocated the attraction was unusual.

“But wait! What about kissing?”

He winces. You catch it.

“I don’t mind the…closed-lip ones,” he says as gently as he can, aware he’s close to hurting your feelings.

“You don’t mind them,” you repeat slowly.

While your broken ego whales about your inability to entice desire in a man, you’re more concerned about having forced Hunter into something he clearly didn’t want to do. The question escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Was there anything at all you enjoyed that night?”

He gives you another of his apologetic, sad puppy look and you feel sick.

“But…” you add, “you were…hard.”

“I mean, the machinery is working.”

Somehow, his answer makes it even worst.

“And to be honest, I was expected something to kick in at some point, but…it just never came.”

He notices how pale you are and quickly adds:

“It wasn’t so bad. I wanted to give you a good time, though I’m not sure I did a good job with that…”

“First times are meant to be messy, but I wasn’t expecting to force you into yours!”

Hunter takes your wrist and waits for your eyes to meet his before uttering:

“Hey, you didn’t force me into anything. I overestimated my abilities and chose to go through with it anyway, so that’s not on you, okay?”

You nod, giddy from his strong aura and the feeling of his gloved hand on your skin.

“This sucks,” you mumble.

He let go of your arm.

“Tell me about it…”

You walk in silence until you reach the end of the beach and turn around. Hunter wouldn’t mind sprinting away, if only to get rid of the tensions in his body. He’s never felt more exposed in his entire life.

“Maybe I should give you some space to process all of this,” he says hesitantly.

“Yeah…”

“I— Uh…I’ll just go, then.”

He means to add he’ll miss you, but he doesn’t. After one last look and a shy smile, he bolts away. The run does help a little, but he’s got a burning question on the tip of his tongue, and he knows he won’t find rest until you’ve answered it. He speeds up, waiting for the rush of endorphins to wash over him and take away the dread that you might not want to see him for a while…

Another week passes during which you drive yourself crazy with projections and conjectures. Can you bear to stay friends with Hunter when you still love him? Can you live a fulfilled romance without sex? Can you make him more comfortable with physical touch so that eventually you do have sex? The last one makes you sick of yourself. You know all too well it wouldn’t be fair to him to hope he’ll change for you. Especially since he doesn’t seem to have any control on the issue.

Your friend has taken pity of you and dragged you to Pabu’s flower market before you drown in your own thoughts. She’s been advocating for you to turn the page and move on, arguing that you deserve better. You wish it could be that simple…

It’s her annoyed huff that gets you to notice a familiar face in the crowd. You weren’t expecting to see Hunter here! Nor the intensity of your body’s reaction. You’ve missed him so much!

You used to see each other several times a week, whether it’d be for evening walks or because Omega invited you to whatever activities they had planned. She and you have formed a close bond and you find real pride in the fact that she often comes to you for advice.

Of course, she is the reason Hunter is at the market. He’s holding a couple of plants in one side, Omega’s hand in the other. His eyes dart to you a few times. You can’t decide if you want him to come over or not. You haven’t made your decision yet!

Your friend pulls you into another alley and you lose sight of him. Your chest tightens. You’ve had break-ups before, you know the feeling of grieving a relationship. This is different. This feels like missed opportunity and regrets.

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of the batch’s home, shaking. The door opens on Hunter and you can hear music playing loud inside. Your first thought is that they’re having some sort of party, but a glance at the floor of the entrance tells you otherwise. There are no shoes scattered around, which means everybody is out.

Hunter shifts his weight to one leg, edgy. His hand is clasped on the doorknob, his heart pounding. You stare at each other in a heavy silence, eyes slightly wider than usual.

“Do you wanna go for a walk,” you finally ask.

He flinches.

“We don’t have to talk about us or anything,” you add quickly. “I just…”

‘Miss your company,’ is what you want to say. You hope he gets it. From the way his voice shiver when he answers “Yes,” you think he does.

3- The year after

You stand by your couch, a mug of caff in one hand, the over, covering your mouth as you yawn. In front of you, Hunter is yawning too. He rubs the sleep off his eyes and takes the mug with a thanks. You sit next to him, legs hug tight against your chest, and pull the blanket over you. It’s warm from Hunter’s body heat, smells like him.

He spreads out an arm over the couch behind you, props his foot, socks askew, on the low table and sips his caff in silence. From an open window, the sound of birds chirping and waves crashing fills the room. If you listen closely, you can also hear the fisherman coming back from their night out and unloading at the port.

You rest your chin on your covered knees, enjoying Hunter’s presence. You’re not sure how this became a habit, but every time he finds himself alone at home, he comes crashing at your place. You walk on the beach, grad dinner, watch some holovids and he sleeps on the couch. You sigh in content.

The peaceful moment is interrupted by Hunter’s commlink buzzing from the little pile of things he dropped on the low table yesterday evening. A set of keys, a small wallet where he keeps his change and a couple of pictures and, of course, the everlasting vibroblade.

Hunter grunts and pushes himself up to grad the commlink. His hand grazes over your shoulder.

“What is it Tech?” he asks, his voice still raspy with sleep.

“Morning Hunter. Is Omega awake? She isn’t answering her com.”

“She’s having a sleepover at Lyana’s. Why?”

“Oh, right. Never mind then.”

Hunter pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Tech, we’ve talked about this a hundred times. If this is another treasure quest with Phee, you need to consult me first, then Omega.”

“Right, right. I’ll send you the briefing and see that we reschedule departure for later today.”

Hunter sighs.

“No. You’re not.”

“You could at least wait to read—”, starts Tech without hiding his annoyance.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s got school tomorrow, so unless you can guarantee you’ll be back by 8 sharp, she’s not going.”

Before Tech can argue, Hunter ends the communication and flops back against you. You pat him on the thigh, suppressing a laugh.

“You’ve got this, Daddy!”

He shoots you a tired glare but the corner of his mouth hints the beginning of a smile. You fight against the urge to lean over and kiss him. A few months back, the frustration would have made you get up and busy yourself in the kitchen. You’re getting better at this. You want to. This friendship is the best thing you’ve had in a long time.

“Do you have plans for today,” asks Hunter after he emptied his mug and put it on the table.

“Nothing special.”

He turns to you with a full smile.

“I’m thinking of taking Omega and Lyana at sea. Crosshair found a spot where those green rays like to gather, if you wanna join…”

He stands up and stretch. He’s still uneasy when asking you out, but if the girls are here, it’ll feel less like a date.

“Sure!”

You plan your day over a breakfast that Hunter helped you set up and you agree to meet him at the port in an hour.

“Unless you want to come pick up the girls with me,” he adds tentatively.

“I’d love that,” you hear yourself answering too loudly. “It’s on my way if I am to get some take away for lunch at Polly’s anyway. Then, we can all choose what we want to eat.”

Hunter flashes you an earnest smile, heart beating loud. This is all he ever wanted. A simple domestic life.

“Just give me time to shower and change,” he says. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready.”

You nod and before you can stop yourself you add:

“You know, you could leave a change of clothes here, and I can make room in the refresher for…”

Your voice trails off, heat coming up your face. You can’t read the look on Hunter’s.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I don’t mean to push you.”

He reaches you to put his hands on each of your arms. He’s awfully aware the two of you are walking on a tightrope, careful not to tip over.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes too high.”

“I know,” you mutter.

He hesitates for a split second and pulls you into a hug. You sigh and lean against him.

“I like having you here,” you say.

“I like being here.”

In your head, he lifts your chin and gives you a passionate kiss. Your loins tingle.

“But I can’t give you everything you want,” he says, breaking the charm.

You bite your lips, squeeze yourself tighter on his chest until it feels like his heart is beating in yours. The tingle comes back. A reminder of what he’s asking you to let go. But then you never had trouble taking care of yourself. You’d be doing him no harm entertaining your fantasies by yourself while he’s out getting a shower. Everything else has been so good so far, it’s not a hard price to pay.

You take a step back, find his eyes and utter:

“I still want to give it a try.”

The smile that stretches his lips is shy at first, but it grows wider as his eyes get shinier. He takes your wrist up and bends over to kiss the back of your hand. His voice shivers when he says, “Thank you.”

 You pull him into another hug, short but tight, then usher him outside. Hunter stays on your porch a little longer, staring in the far, still smiling. Content. Maybe you two can make it work after all…Then he remembers he needs to snatch Omega before Tech or Phee get the chance to enroll her in their treasure hunt and he sprints home.

I hope you enjoyed it !

If you feel like it, let me know what you think about it.

[firestorm09890]

Organization XIII Coded Avatars

Hi howdy

I was scrounging around in the depths of the khwiki and ended up on the Avatar Menu page. I never played kh coded (...this is technically from Kingdom Hearts Mobile) and I know very little about its gameplay but there was this side mode where you could make custom avatars and there were a bunch of pre-set ones, all with unique usernames and quotes

There’s one for every member in Organization XIII.

Please look at them.

DaSuperior “Avatar Parts, empower me!”

Fr33sh00tr “Pet goldfish? As if!”

Whirlwinnr “‘Love’...my outfit? Bah.”

TheChillE1 “Avatar pets? Fascinating!”

SilentHero “On your last legs yet?”

ZexyScheme “You cheat? Deplorable.”

LunaDVine “Expecting a mission?”

Flamesilox “F-L-A...Got it memorized?”

N♪cturne “My new song melts faces!”

GambleOfF8 “Scratch card? I'm game.”

AssaXIn8 “The Keyblade must be mine.”

SavageNmph “Do I detect DISTRESS?”

Key2DestNE “They ran out of sea-salt.”

Never4get “We meet again.”

Let me reiterate that these are from an official Kingdom Hearts game

I was going to make a cute little graphic or something but I decided nah I want the pngs to be downloadable straight from the post

Other notes and some (lots of) rambling under the cut

Avatar parts and scratch cards are references to mechanics related to the Avatar Kingdom as a whole. No idea what avatar pets are supposed to be though- I think he might be referring to buddies

Shoutout to Naminé being assigned mouse. Also “Shadow Dawg”. Also Roxas as “Dog 3″ is sending me- this isn’t what this post is supposed to be about

There’s this thing called the “Avatar Sector” where you... clear a bunch of floors or something idk I’ve never played the game

But after every ten floors you get a new title! For the sake of time I’m just screenshotting the table and pasting it in

And each Organization member has one of these titles. From the bottom up, we’ve got:

Junior Diver: Roxas Diver: Demyx, Marluxia Senior Diver: Vexen, Larxene Sector Mod: Xaldin Sector Admin: Zexion Sector Master: Axel Architect: Xigbar Wizard: Lexaeus, Saïx, Xion Legend: Xemnas, Luxord

I’mmmmmm not sure what the pattern is there? Or if there even is one???? It’s not physical strength, or ability, or importance in the Organization, but it doesn’t look to be entirely random... Considering this is from a side mode to KH Coded it’s probably better to just not think about it but hey now you know

Various ramblings on the things themselves:

Da Superior..................

Xigbar’s quote is a reference to that “Do you always have to stare at me like I just drowned your goldfish” line from 358/2 Days. this might be common knowledge but I like to cover my bases

shoutout to tumblr user @/ fr33sh00tr for being one of the uhhh 3 people I’ve seen ever reference these things

wow they really play up Xaldin’s hatred of love to a comedic level huh

the username Whirlwinner SLAPS though

Vexen’s mouth is the only one of the Organization that’s not pink/scarlet! Peculiar!

Lexaeus’s quote is a reference to the time in 358/2 Days when he hit Roxas really hard. Another L for Lexaeus fans 😔

also his eyes are gold for some reason?? clearly doesn’t mean anything here but why

aesthetic probably. xigbar’s eyes ARENt gold

ZexyScheme 💀

fun fact Zexion uses the word “deplorable” TWICE in Chain of Memories (only once in the English version of Re:CoM but he does indeed say it twice in the Japanese version). This is the third time. It’s not a very common word or anything so I think it’s his favorite word lmao

Axel’s username is a reference to the silly little nickname Xigbar uses for him in Days which makes me think Xigbar came up with all these usernames

shoutout to Demyx

something about the way “Do I detect DISTRESS?” is written is so funny to me, she sounds SO excited

XION AS NEVER4GET......

it’s definitely Xion btw because they all have numbers ascribed to them and Never4get is the only 14

that’s it

Thank you so much for to reading my post

[greylight32]

Head canon Time!!!! Victim: Henry! (since i've been hyperfixating on him since we're seeing him soon)

I think that every since everyone Henry has ever loved either died or cut off contact with him. His only motivation to get out of bed was so that he could have a staring contest with the doodler.

I imagine it was by accident too. Just up until that point he had been lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, until one day he looks out the window and just can't stop, once the pupil gets out of the line out sight of Henry's bedroom window he decides that he'll just, go outside, and well if he's going outside he might as well get dressed, and if he's getting dressed he might as well do some gardening too.

So he did, and when he got to tired to worked anymore he would lay down on the ground and stare up at the eye, squint his eyes and point at the pupil, he did this for hours until the Doodler blinked.

And ever since then that was his motivation to get out of bed (without Birdie or his BIL's help), to have a staring contest with the Doodler. Overtime it was comforting having someone who would never (could never) leave. He would look up while he was gardening, while he was eating (which he did outside), while relaxing.

This was how Henry lived his life, a constant fucking staring contest, but hey if some people can only get up out of bed and live their day-to-day lives because of coffee, then why can't his be the giant eldritch god that one of his sons released into the world by literally stabbing him in the back to get out?

Of course this is how he lived life until the teens took them out of the sky, and since if was confirmed to be around mid-day when the teens took them out of the sky I think Henry was going about his normal day of having a staring contest with and eldritch God, when suddenly it's replaced with the fucking sun.

obviously it took a moment of him to adjust, but once he did and saw that the sky is once again blue, I think he went into full freak out mode. Because how the fuck is he supposed to know who has them? How does he know that Willy doesn't have them. He calls Birdie "Heya Honey!" "Um hola papa, um have you seen the sky?" "Oh goodness you can see it too?" "Uh yeah it's kind of hard not to, I mean the whole sky changed" " Fuck does Willy have it?" "What was that papa?" "Oh nothing sweetheart I love you! I'll talk to you later bye-bye!" "Papa wai-" . He then started running through a bunch of different scenarios while walking between his garden and the graves and it went like this: *sitting criss-cross infront of the dads graves as if he was having a conversation with them* "Do the boys have it?" *Two hours later, walking in his garden pensively hands in a kind of diamond shape against his mouth* "Does Hero have it?" *One hour later, back to sitting criss-cross infront of the dads graves, one arm on his knee resting his face on his hand* "Does Normal have it?" Each one getting even more quite then the last.

and I think by the time they get to his house due to how time works it has been less then a day since the sky returned to normal by the time The Teens arrive. So they kinda just walk in on Henry freaking out in his garden, Haha won't that be fun?

[oliviridian]

at about a minute or two in a DMT trip, according to McKenna, one might burst through a chrysanthemum-like mandala, and find there’s a whole bunch of entities waiting on the other side saying, “How wonderful it is that you’re here, you come so rarely, we’re so delighted to see you.” They’re like jeweled self-dribbling basketballs and there are (other man: what?) so many of them and they come pounding towards you and they will stop in front of you and vibrate but when they do a very disconcerting thing which inhale is they jump into your body and they jump back out again the whole thing is going in a high speed mode where you’re being presented with thousands of details per second and you can NOT get a hold of them and they are these things saying, “dont give into astonishment” which is exactly what you wanna do, you wanna go nuts with how crazy this is. And they say, “dont do that, pay attention to what we’re doing” while they’re doing- what they’re doing is making objects with their voices, singing structures into existence, they offer you things saying, “ look at this! look at this!” and as your attention goes towards these objects, you realize what you’re being shown is impossible, its not simply intricate, beautiful, and hard to manufacture but its impossible to make these things. the nearest analogy would be the faberge eggs but these things, these things are like the toys scattered inside of the UFO, celestial toys and the toys themselves appear to be somehow alive and can sing other objects into existence. so whats happening is the proliferation of ‘elf gifts’ which are moving around and singing, “do what we are doing” and they are very insistent they say “do it! do it! do it!” and you feel like a bubble inside your body beginning to move up towards your mouth and when it comes out it isn’t sound but VISION Vision vision they say “Thats it!! thats it!!!! keep doing it!!” we are now at minute 4.5 of the trip and you speak in this sort of glossolali , there is a spontaneous outpouring of syntax unaccompanied by what is normally called ‘meaning’ after about a minute or two of this, the whole thing begins to collapse in on itself and they begin to physically move away from you usually their finally shot is they wave goodbye and say “Deja vu, deja vu”

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 2.20.2024

Well, I had another very solid week. I hesitate to call it good, because I didn't actually enjoy it very much, but I did grind out 8,642 words last week. I finished Chapter 8 and made a solid dent in Chapter 9a. Basically, I just tried to write at least a thousand words a day, which I accomplished almost every day. Yesterday, I only did 800, but I did 2000 on Sunday, plus the 800 was the ending scene for the chapter, so I deserve a little grace there. And it was a three-day weekend for my kids!

I am at the stage of the fanfic where most of the ambiguity is gone--I know what scenes are left and I just gotta write them. It doesn't matter if I want to or not, the fanfic isn't going to be done until I write them, so I just do it. I always worry that writing in this mindset is going to produce bad, unlovable writing--like, if I don't love writing this, how is anyone going to love reading it? Historically, though, that doesn't bear out--big chunks of Call Me Back and What We Do with Our Hearts were written in this exact fugue state, and I often end up loving them after the fact, and they still contain parts that are really funny or insightful or heartfelt or whatever. I literally do not know how this is possible, it just is. Also, like: there is going to be editing. It is truly astonishing how hard it is to slap anything at all down on a page and then how easy it is to shape it up into something good later on. It is a lot like throwing flat colors down on a piece of art and then adding a little texture and shading later.

The other thing I don't like about writing in this mode is that it makes me actually insane, which I don't like. I just roll word counts and percentages around in my head 24 hours a day and I'm not really able to relax and do things that are not grinding away at my writing. I can do it for short periods of time, but I think I have too much of this story left to tough it through, plus, like, what's the point? This is the thing I allegedly do for fun, and even though I really really really want to be finished, I feel like I should actually try to enjoy the process a little, at least.

So anyway! My first goal for this week is to be less insane about my fanfic. My second goal is to finish Chapter 9a (I think I have about 3-4k to go). My third goal is to edit Chapters 7 and 8 and send them to the beta.

After that, I'll just have 9b (of which I've already written about 4k) and the epilogue to do. After that, of course, there's still more editing, a beta pass for chapters 8->the end, and then I may try to read the whole thing through again from the beginning. So, 3 weeks, maybe, give or take a little?

In the interest of trying to have a little fun, I think I'm gonna try to post some previews for the next couple weeks? In the past, people have enjoyed previews. Today's is a little long, but it's the opening to the whole thing. It's below a cut for those who'd rather wait until the whole thing comes out.

“I don’t know if they’re trying to capitalize on Boy’s Day, or what,” Rukia said, idly inching her hand toward the plate of hot, steaming gyoza sitting on the countertop next to Renji’s stove, “but they’re having some sort of Seafood Festival out in East Sixth.”

A dish towel appeared out of nowhere, the tip whipping painfully against Rukia’s hand.

“Ow!” Rukia howled.

“They’re hot! It’ll hurt worse if you jam one of those in your mouth whole like I know you were gonna,” Renji replied, stuffing the dish towel back into his obi, and juggling the pan of gyoza he was currently frying. “What about a Seafood Festival? Why the Hell is the East Sixth having a Seafood Festival?”

“It’s being put on by the Train Museum, I hear,” Rukia continued grumpily, rubbing at her hand. “I guess they’re hauling a bunch of spring fish up from the Shiranui Sea at the other end of the line. It only takes a few hours to get out to Six. There’s probably carts making the run that we could take, but I would honestly just flash-step, at least on the way out. I want to eat my own body weight in katsuo. Possibly your body weight in katsuo.”

“Mmm,” Renji replied noncommittally, dumping the rest of his gyoza onto the plate and turning off the stovetop.

“I was thinking of asking Hisagi if he wanted us to take some pictures and do a little write-up for the Bulletin,” Rukia went on. “Get us a little walking-around money.” Not that Rukia lacked for pocket money, but it was a little more expensive than their usual weekend activities, and Renji got a little cagey when she tried to treat him to things.

“That’s a bad idea.”

“Why? We had fun the last time we played reporter!”

“Grab the bowl of sauce, would you?” Renji gestured with his chin as he picked up the plate of dumplings and the teapot to carry them to the table. “Don’t you remember when they built that damn train line? Took ‘em over over thirty years, and there were three to four articles every single Bulletin about the delays, the graft, the politics, the environmental impact, whatever. People got so mad about the idea of a train inside the Seireitei that it doesn’t even go anywhere useful. I didn’t even know they used it for anything aside from twee holidays for bored nobles.”

“I heard a story from my friend, Lady Akizuki, that the old head of the Seshimo clan actually lives on the train! He hasn’t set foot outside it in fifteen years!”

Renji cocked an eyebrow at her. He looked like he desperately wanted to hear about the Train Noble, but also did not want to be a guy who cared about Train Nobles. “Anyway, don’t mention the train to Hisagi unless you got six or seven hours to kill. Preferably when I’m not there.”

Rukia picked up the big, fragrant bowl of ginger dipping sauce with both hands. “It was just an idea. So what do you think? Do you want to go?”

“When is it again?” Renji asked, frowning.

“It’s running for all of May, but the weather has been so nice lately, I thought maybe we could go next weekend,” Rukia suggested. 

Renji was quiet for a moment, but Rukia figured that maybe he was just focused on serving her dumplings, which was, in her opinion, very important. 

“Ru,” he finally said slowly, as he poured her a cup of tea. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Is it that you want to go to the Seafood Festival with me?”

Renji took a big breath through his nose and let it out again. “If things work out, I’d love to go later in the month. Next weekend’s not gonna work, though.”

“Oh.” Rukia frowned. “That’s fine. That’s no big deal.” She looked down lovingly at her gyoza and then up at Renji hopefully. “Itadakimasu?” she asked hopefully.

Renji blinked. “Huh? Oh, yeah, please help yourself. That… that wasn’t the thing I had to say.”

“Well, spit it out, already,” Rukia groused, her mouth already crammed with gyoza. “Why are you being weird?”

Renji still hadn’t touched his own food. He had circled his right wrist with the thumb and middle finger of his left hand and was rotating it back and forth. He used to make that gesture a lot when he was young, and Rukia realized that she hadn’t seen him do it in years.

“I’m having some surgery,” Renji finally said. 

Rukia froze. After a long moment, she slowly finished chewing her dumpling and swallowed it. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I’m getting my arm fixed.”

Rukia watched him rub his wrist for another few seconds. “Did it not heal correctly after the, um, accident?” “The accident” was when Byakuya had stabbed him through the forearm during a demonstration fight the week prior. Everyone was being very polite about it.

“Wellll…” Renji drew out. “I mean, no, that healed up fine. Very clean cut, Senbonzakura, as always. But, uh, while I was at the Fourth, the topic of my burnt-out kidou ducts came up. Captain Unohana thinks she can fix ‘em. And I’ve decided to, um, let her try.” “Oh,” said Rukia. Her chest was filling up with a lot of strange feelings. “Oh.”

[autobot-ratchet]

Lost Light 13-15

Lost Light 13

this issue's cover is still so fuckin funny, I remember when we saw it like a month before the issue actually came out and Dratchet nation was popping the fuck off, they really gave us that shoujo romance bullshit moment and I am so grateful for it

one more thing I gotta say about this issue before I actually start it is man. I think that between issues 9 and 10 there was going to be a handful of more arcs, since the mutineers finding “Cyberutopia” and the Rod Squad dealing with all the shit they deal with in this issue seems very much like a prelude to the final arc, but we had to scrap all those arcs and jump to the end so we could, yknow. Have an ending before the reboot started. The fuckin reboot that also got cut off because IDW lost the license for Transformers lmfAO god........ every day I wonder what this comic would've been like if it had gotten to live its full lifespan

lol get fucked Fangry

I remember even when I read this for the first time, I refused to believe that Tailgate was dead lmAO after all the robot gore sprinkled throughout this comic, you're NOT gonna show me his corpse??? or at least the aftermath of his so-called “atomization?????” then he ain't dead, you can't trick me

I still can't believe Lotty actually went along with Swerve's prank lmAO fuckin Noggin........

fUCKIN I FORGOT ABOUT CHROMEDOME AND REWIND CANOODLING IN ROLLER'S ALT MODE........ Y'ALL...............

Anode and Swerve on some spy vs spy shit

dfhsj poor Cyclonus trying to connect to Ultra Magnus, but he's just too sad, the bereaved goth vibes are too much for Magnus to handle

“You were right.” “Oh, Ratchet, the three words I've always longed to hear you say.” god. This is a cute little bit of snark in hindsight but back when this first came out and Dratchet was not yet confirmed canon this was fucking excruciating lmfAO I wanted to believe so bad but I didn't want to get burned

poor Cyclonus, he gets broken up with and then his man goes and dies (or so he thinks), my guy can't catch a break

ooh, I forgot that Chromedome comes out and says it, that Cyclonus wants what he and Rewind have. Uurrghh and Whirl stepping in to mediate...

truly everything is happening so much... and then Ten just puts a hard fuckin stop on everything

Lost Light 14

it is interesting to see Tarn interacting with Shockwave what with their past. It's also very funny that Tarn's insistence that the DJD go through their list in order trips Shockwave up because of how inefficient that is lmAO

love that Epistemus has been reduced to super google

aww Nickel, I'm sorry your old squad was garbage

“We've seen this before!* (*see MTMTE 7)” infinitely grateful for this note because I completely forgot about all the weird experiments the Scavengers found in that worldsweeper lmAO

honestly I kinda wish we could've gotten more into the Scavengers getting on Nickel's case for being a part of the DJD, especially after she doubled down and insisted she was proud of the shit they used to do. Like. Did she know how flimsy a lot of the reasons were for putting people on the list or did Tarn just tell her “they're traitors don't worry about it” and she was just like “okay ❤️ yay ❤️”

okay so yeah, confirmed, all those weird experiments were Scorponok's doing, hell yeah I remembered a detail lmAO

love this stupid death fake-out lmAO I know it's on purpose because the plan was to dismember everyone in a way that looks bad but could be easily fixed but it really does just look like he ripped apart a bunch of action figures

Lost Light 15

love Grimlock putting Misfire's entire head in his mouth. Just a little threatening affectionate gesture

god. Scorponok's whole baby plan is still the wildest fuckin thing in this comic, I am completely incapable of taking it seriously lmAO I'll suspend my disbelief for a lot of dumb shit but not this one, this is actually stupid as hell

love that the Scavengers have no desire even slightly to be part of the war anymore, they're right and they should say it

aww, as much as I harp on Tarn, him giving Nickel a lethal voice message to protect herself with is very sweet

fgdhfsj love everyone asking Krok what to do like “Dad? Dad? Dad what do we do? Dad???”

aww I also like that little bit showing how the Scavengers all met, including Flywheels. Is it better or worse that the DJD got him instead of the Grand Architect lmAO

[netscapenavigator-official]

Okay, I finally finished Nancy Drew: Midnight in Salem, and thus the entire franchise (as of yet). The OG fandom hyped this game up to be the worst of the worst. However, in my opinion, it placed 15/34 in my ranking spreadsheets, below Secret of Shadow Ranch, and above Secrets Can Kill (OG Version).

The game's graphics are abysmal. I mean, I genuinely, unironically, think that Stay Tuned for Danger (the first 3D Nancy Drew game) had better graphics than this. In that game, all the character's looked like plastic mannequins... but at least they had some charm/character to them. The character models in Midnight in Salem felt like The Sims 3 graphics. As in, the character's faces were only barely different from one another, and the hair... oh the hair... it was so bad. No to mention, the world just wasn't that pretty either. It's crazy just how barren and sterile Salem felt compared to Skipbrot from Sea of Darkness.

I honestly wouldn't even be that mad at the live-rendered graphics... if the game wasn't so fucking inefficient. A game that looks like that shouldn't be able to make my M1 iMac sweat like that, but it did. I even had to turn Anti-Aliasing down and set the Resolution to 1080p just to play without lag. Not to mention, the Mac version seems to have a lot of graphical glitches (that admittedly might be caused by running the game through Rosetta 2 on an ARM Machine, but I don't know). Specifically, the worst was in the final cutscene, where a bright white light was rapidly flashing across the entire scene until the camera finally moved. It then returned once the camera return to Nancy's perspective. It was genuinely awful. For a game that took 5 years to make, and that is running the latest and greatest gaming engine, this game's graphics are hot garbage, especially compared to the previous game which was the most beautiful in the entire series. It honestly felt like I was playing one of those Unity Asset store games like House Flipper or House Party.

The animations were choppy, characters didn't stay planted on the ground and would slide around, the textures looked crusty and blurry, while simultaneously overly-sharp. In fact, the animations also felt like Unity default assets. Character's rarely, if ever, made specific motions for their words. They just stood there and played idle animations over and over. It made it feel like they weren't even talking to Nancy. Also, I noticed (at least once or twice, idk about the whole game) that the characters don't blink. Not to mention their awful, uncanny at times, mouth movements when speaking.

The plant textures were FLAT. There was no 3D effect to them at all. You could walk up to any plant, and it was as flat as a JPEG. It's crazy to me how resource inefficient this game is. A game with that graphic quality shouldn't be hard to run on a computer that can run BeamNG Drive at medium graphics through Wine and Rosetta translations layers with decent performance. I mean, I honestly think Yandere Simulator might perform better than this game.

The navigation was also horrible. You can really tell that this game was last minute switched from being free-roam to point-and-click. In perhaps a controversial opinion, I kinda wish this game would've just been free roam. It was clear that the point-and-click thing was an afterthought, and it made it so difficult to navigate around the world. Not to mention, the hit-boxes for the point-and-click system were majorly regressed. One of my biggest complaints with the early Nancy Drew games was that the hit-boxes for the click-points were small, and there was often just a bunch of dead space that made it difficult to navigate rapidly and reliably. This was fixed somewhere along the line, but in this game, the issue returns once more. The slow hover animation combined with horrible click-point hit-boxes made this a tediously slow game to navigate.

And don't even get me started on the cars. It's difficult to make good, realistic-looking 3D car models because they require more detail than most people think, but the car models in this game were awful. Hell, one of them was literally a BMW stock model without its badge.

This graphical quality of this game is just shocking, given it took 5 years to make this game (4 after the engine switch), and previous games were made in a fraction of that. Not to mention, this doesn't feel like a game that was made by a dev-team by a game studio. It feels like an Indie game that was made by one person using Unity Store assets. The visual quality is insanely bad.

My final critique is about Nancy's voice actor. Now, I'm not here to rag on Brittany Cox. Nancy's previous voice actor was icon because she literally voices her in 33 (34 counting SCK Remaster) previous games. I just got used to her. However, knowing now what I know about Lani, I can't say I'm upset that she's gone. Brittany sounds like she has a lot of potential, and if I'm being honest, my problems with how she voiced Nancy probably aren't her fault. She sounded pretty monotonous and unemotional compared to prior renditions. However, we also know HeR laid off a lot of people between this game, and its predecessor. As a result, I think it's safe to say whoever directed Lani did not direct Brittany. Brittany's portrayal honestly sounded like the voice you hear at the supermarket over the income trying to sell you rotisserie chickens at 20% off. I think Brittany has a lot of potential, and I hope her director does a better job in Mystery of the Seven Keys, but for now, I just didn't like her portrayal. It is her first game, however! If you go back and listen to Lani in Secrets Can Kill (OG) and Stay Tuned for Danger, she too sounds very different to what she eventually settled into. I hope Brittany finds a better groove with Nancy, and I'm hoping the series lives long enough for her to do so.

Now onto the positive. After all the aforementioned bullshit, what on Earth could sway me to giving this game a 19/34? The plot. I honestly feel like this is one of, if not THE best plots we've ever gotten in a Nancy Drew game. The drama was so juicy, and the foreshadowing was off the charts. I was concocting crack conspiracy theories before I even met half the cast. It was amazing to follow and so rewarding to watch play out. The Deirdre redemption arc was crazy, and I loved every minute of it.

However, I do have two notes when it comes to the Plot:

1: What tf did they do to Ned in this game?? Sea of Darkness was incredible. It honestly felt like a series finale because of how emotionally and solidly Nancy and Ned were wrapping things up. I'd never understood the Ned haters in the fandom, and by the end of Sea of Darkness I was at the peak of Ned Nickerson Apologist Mountain. However, in this game, everything is just uprooted. All the drama that is built through Ned's phone calls is never properly resolved. It was so unsatisfying watching Nancy brush it off in the end scene. Not to mention (maybe this was another Mac-only bug, but I doubt it), they didn't even bother giving Ned voiced lines in the end. It almost felt like they kept building all this relationship tension, finished up the game, and then realized that "OH SHIT! We forgot to wrap up the Ned drama" and slapped it in, last minute. It was genuinely awful. Some people often call Sea of Darkness the conclusion of the original game series and Midnight in Salem the rebooted series. This is obviously wrong because Salem was teased in the end of Darkness... but tbh, for the Ned storyline alone, I'm willing to headcanon that and believe it.

2: The ending was kinda weird. If Alicia had kept her mouth shut (which she was doing a very good job of doing), she probably could've gotten away with it. Hathorne House wouldn't have been hers, but there really wasn't any hard evidence against her for anything else. She had an excuse and alibi for everything, and she genuinely had covered all of her tracks. Maybe Jason could've gotten a plea deal and testified against her; or with Nancy, Frank, Joe, Deirdre, and Mei all knowing what they knew, she could've been successfully convicted in a court... but by the ending scene, I was fully convinced she was going to get away with it and get Nancy in trouble for breaking and entering... but then all of a sudden... out of nowhere, she just starts blabbering about everything... IN FRONT OF A FUCKING JUDGE. It felt really out of character, given how intelligent she previously was when it came to the law, and, just like the Ned wrap-up situation, this felt like an "OH SHIT!" moment where the team realized they'd gotten themselves into a corner and needed to get out of it, but didn't have time to go back and redo major story aspects, so they settled on this.

Overall, the plot is a very rewarding plot to experience, but would I play this game again? No. The graphics are awful, and even getting the game to run stably was a chore. It crashed multiple times (literally any time I took my wireless headphones out to go to the bathroom). Sometimes it even crashed at random, without warning. (Thank god this game introduced an auto-save feature.) The navigation controls were also just plain awful. While a lot of the early games were just as tedious to click on, their navigation scenes were much more predictable. In addition, those games have neo-nostalgic flare that this game just doesn't. As a result, it ranked slightly above average in my spreadsheet, but that's mainly for the plot. I, honestly, think this is the first Nancy Drew game with zero replay value because of how plot-reliant the enjoyability is. Maybe I'll come to love it. The characters were fun, but I don't know. My feelings about Nancy Drew games change as they age within my head, so maybe I'll slowly want to play this game again. For now, though, I'm glad I played it, but I'm also glad it's over, and I never have to play it again.

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

A note about resolutions, part the second

So you’ve looked into the abyss, and the abyss has looked back and said, “Okay, yeah, there are a few things you really could be doing to take better care of yourself, bud.”

The thing you’ve decided to do to take better care of yourself has been verified as a 100% reasonable, doable thing that will in fact accomplish what you want it to accomplish and is not, say, trying to weight-loss your way into being worthy of love or making a secret one-sided bargain with Death to take a kpop star in your place if you switch to half-caff coffee after 3pm.

The thing that you’ve decided to do is in fact so reasonable and so straightforward that you’re not sure what the hell is going on with your inability to consistently do it.

If you’re having a hard time sticking to a resolution, it’s probably worth taking careful stock of what failure mode looks like, because the problem with the habit you’re trying to build is very frequently either a different habit that you’ve already developed or a life infrastructure issue.

I should note that this isn’t for the “I just forget to do it” people.  That’s a different problem, and it’s probably either relatively easy to solve or is going to be A Whole Thing, and you’ve already got some sort of system for helping out with that.

Say your goal this time around is “floss on a daily basis.” This is for the people who look at the floss that they’ve resolved to use daily, the floss they want to use daily, the floss they feel like they should be using daily, and actively go, “Oh, yeah. That’s not happening today, pal.”

So, what’s going on when that happens?  What needs to change so that that stops happening?  Is it that by the time you start getting ready for bed, you’re already so exhausted that the thought of putting off crawling under the covers by another five minutes is intolerable?  Is it that you hate messing with your mouth, and doing that for ten minutes straight is the worst?   Do you hate the way the floss tastes, does it hurt your fingers, etc.?   Any/all of this is stuff you don’t have to just ~*~willpower~*~ your way through.  

In fact, you really shouldn’t be willpowering your way through it, because that’s a monumental waste of emotional energy that could be better spent on other, less-easily-fixable things like wrangling your landlord or disputing some bullshit debt on your credit score. It also practically guarantees that when you hit a rough patch elsewhere in your routine, flossing is going straight out the window.

Once you identify the underlying problem, do what you can to address that.   Start getting ready for bed earlier.  Floss right after dinner and then brush your teeth right before bed, so the tooth stuff is happening in more bearable chunks.  Switch to a floss that’s a fun flavor, or try those floss picks, or invest in a water pick.  Once you’ve made some progress there, see where you’re at on how easy it is to stick to your goal.

This gets more complicated with more complicated resolutions, unfortunately. 

If your goal is “Cook a healthy dinner more often,” the underlying problem might be “Half the time you get home already starving and reach for whatever will be ready fastest,” and the solution might be “Suck down a go-gurt as soon as you punch out so you get home ninety minutes later hungry but not ravenous.”

Or it might be “You have to clean the kitchen and wash a bunch of dishes before you can even start making dinner, and then by the time you’ve done that you don’t want to cook anymore and you’re hungry and you actually never want to see the inside of the kitchen again,” and the solution might be “Try to deal with your dishes before you go to bed so that the next day you’ll be able to just cook dinner.”

It might even be “You’ve been standing for 6 hours at work, and then you stand for another hour on the subway home, and if you have to stand for yet another hour in the kitchen, giving you a knife is going to be the worst idea anyone has ever had.” and the solution’s going to be “reconfigure the kitchen so you can sit the fuck down while you prep stuff” or “take the bus instead of the subway so you can sit the fuck down on the ride home.”

You might even need to sit down and put together a 'dopa-menu’ or something similar if you’re trying to stop complex, long-standing ingrained behavior like stress-eating or retail-therapy. Trying to come up with alternatives to a years-long go-to way of dealing with stress once you’re already stressed is a recipe for giving up and going back to the years-long go-to way of dealing with stress. 

It also helps you divert to harm-reduction activities more easily.  If you go to the movies instead of the mall, you’ve still gotten out of the house for a few hours and exposed yourself to new stimuli, but you spent twenty bucks instead of who even knows, and you’re not trying to find places in your living space for a bunch of junk you now feel guilty about having bought.  If you cook yourself a new dessert instead of just reaching for a pint of ice cream, you’ve had a new experience, maybe learned a new recipe, and spent more time doing something concrete with your hands, all of which should give you more bang for your buck in terms of actually feeling better about whatever was bothering you.

Once you figure out where the bottlenecks are in the behaviors you’re trying to change, you can at least set yourself up for success instead of leaving a bunch of obstacles in your way and then wondering why you can’t stop tripping over them.  And frequently once you’ve started picking this stuff apart, you can usually find other points where you can reduce the friction of your life overall, which helps conserve your energy for more quality-of-life stuff or emergencies instead of leaving you tapped out from basic-survival stuff.

[refriedrambles]

PAK dissonance was something a little more then half the population ended up experiencing at one point in their lives. Skoodge was one of them.

This was nothing like the first time.

[add all the scenes that happen on top of each other, the piggy incident as PAK, looking down at Zim checking out from pain on a call with the Tallest as computer, admiring his new red eyes as Red, moving his gaze from the floor trying to ground himself and seeing Krysa crouching down touching the floor blinking rapidly, as Vortian feeling betrayed by Larb as irkens begin to round them all up, a giant rubber piggy the size of a planet looming over head, Krysa slapping him so hard she breaks her hand as she tries to keep him from stabbing himself more getting stabbed herself in the process while he's only aware of faint tingle in his cheek and something wet and warm spilling from his mouth and running down his chin, a random human surgeon during as surgery asking for a tool, his PAK beginning to over work itself, being feet behind himself. No paragraph breaks. Filter back through them skipping and repeating.]

But he was him now again. Mostly. He was all those others when it happened, but somewhere underneath he was still Skoodge. Skoodge only stopped being for a fraction of a second.

It all happened at once. All of it dragged on forever. It was over in second.

In reality according to the clock on his info tablet, 10 minutes had passed.

His PAK was forced into maintenance mode. The device used still hanging from it.

Somehow he was sure his PAK had little to do with what he'd just experienced, but looking down at the puncture whole in his gut still pouring out blood he understood why Krysa had done it.

His PAK legs laid inactive on the smeared with pink and red blood.

Krysa was swearing in every language she knew.

It didn't hurt. He touched the wound, a muted tingle came. The same kind as in his cheek.

His sense of linear time still hasn't fully corrected itself. He was Skoodge. He was a few others.

It felt like he was apart of and experiencing a bunch of different realities stacked up on each at once. Well, that's the closest he could place the feeling into words.

Krysa crouched down to look at his wounds first aid kit in hand.

The lights cut and an alarm went off bathing every thing in a yellow light.

"ALL SYSTEMS CRITICAL! ALL SYSTEMS CRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-" the electric voice and alarm stuck holding a tone. The lights stopped rotating and began to buzz.

Krysa yanked him with her as she ran.

The ships halls were eerily empty.

Lights began to explode in rapid succession.

They were in the ship bay. Some were still running doors open. No one was there. Behind them one of them exploded.

Krysa threw Skoodge the rest of the way to his inactive ship. "TRY TURNING IT ON!" He did so.

It seemed fine? This thoughts were still only half there. His hands missed as he tried to grabbed the wheel. There was a noticable heat on his back.

She threw herself into the ship took the wheel getting them into the air and screamed at him, "REBOOT YOUR PAK!" He looked back to see a scorch mark in the back of the chair. His eyes widened.

They were out, a hole blown in through all the docking bay doors. The ship behind them didn't stop exploding.

Krysa slammed the dash with her fist. Shaking. Holding back tears. Biting down far too hard.

Skoodge's PAK was in his tingling hands completely inert. His ship quickly attaching life support.

She looked at him and with a shaky breath tore it out of his hands and set it on the floor. "You're melting your gloves, Skoodge." She pulled him into a hug.

He was Skoodge.

"I think I might puke," the human admitted.

[the-firebird69]

Did you notice our cougar rug? #vanhalen #80smusic #davidleeroth #eddiev...

This is freaking me out his characters the devil and his gigantic and he lied about where it was and what it was and we believed it and it's enormous it's larger than the one in the South maybe I was wondering what's underneath and he says it's different one and it's hers and then she says no it's not I said why why would I besupporting my wiener. And it's true it's pan and his version. And I hear Shaq is upset I do know what it means he's in that kind of mode for Christ's sake this is going to be awful. And it was the max and the unchanged him on purpose it doesn't look like we're getting any progress he's right we have to be sure the max did not take those modules or the ships this is going to be insanity and he woke up to the nightmare with them running it this is not amateur stuff this is going to be awful my little nephew is quite the guy he's like Ken telling me to stop talking without saying this rude and I look back and it was and I know why and stuff I couldn't help it but holy s*** this is huge and it had Dave do it and they're having him do it and The grapes of wrath makes sense it's going to be a hell of a day

Garth

I must say this is a perfect choice in songs and the intros intense and this guy's characters he's actually venom and he can sound exactly like it in space and he can produce it out of his mouth almost a lot of people try and can't do it and I can't stand hearing it you don't sound like him this guy's lines are new and it sounds exactly how he speaks so he says... I thank you... For being a friend... And he goes on and he says a few things and hard to tell if that's what he sounds like it's terrible. I don't understand why I'm listening to the stupid s*** it's mesmerizing his character is just absolutely horrendous it's like if he could become almost all powerful take control over some idiots and make fun of us at the same time and he says... I'm not just taking over them it's a lot of work... And it sounds just like venom and you say it like him this raspy gasping for air sound and it makes sense since the sea creature and he says... Of course it makes sense that's what I am... It is jumping over the fence or wall and getting out of here and I do understand something he's sitting there working because the max we have taken over and he doesn't know if they took his clan stuff if you think his clan stuff it's awful and if his people are doing stuff it's awful if they're doing stuff he needs us to do stuff the whole thing is a nightmare any new it would be and so did we but we didn't expect the max to just sit back and let these idiots trod all over everything he thought they could blame them and they're sitting there in space doing it. The levels of hatred they've attracted by these is going into the stratosphere you can't talk to us this way after we've done that and they're trying to be little them with the talk and it does not work on him it doesn't work on me it doesn't work on shack or Preston and that's just a state of being it's not our fault it's testosterone and other chemicals that regular people don't have you're wrong and you won't stop talking to us this way and we simply go back to the workshop and fix the problem I mean what the hell are you doing Max we told you a million times don't you see the reaction he doesn't care he has to fix what you're doing

Thrym

Ahhh uh huh

Loki

Yeah we see it's true we can't stop these people put their brains in hours and selling a bunch of s*** heads there's a lot of those surgeries it says it's probably the clan and all of a sudden it's like this and they fight us or them it's something he has to happen and they're right about that possibly and it might be JC but we're off course that's true and we can't help it

Mac

And furthermore my grandson jc did a good job and may have seen something you treat him like s*** and he's in the grave and you're a horribly stupid

Thrym

We've actually had enough this stuff is stupid you have to get out of there CAA and you have to do it on your own it's not going to really work. And nobody is helping him and he's just sitting there getting steamed and he can't help it it's really cruel and mean he has to defeat everybody because nobody's doing a damn thing it's a simple psychology

Shaq

We're trying to help him all the time people are awful it's the people here they're terrible in the pseudo empire is worse you're a bunch of meat heads trying to threaten him all the time and Mac has fallen off the wagon so many times it gets back up there with other people don't and he's had the surgery I'll tell you what this is going down the tubes nobody wants to do a freaking thing it is going from car to car it says I think I found the car I just don't want to drive it around cuz it has that guy's stink on it now that's funny right there you see this f** bothering me it's not how we think about it cuz how he thinks about it a lot of his people who are they take stuff they use it he doesn't like it he says he's lesser he's so dumb he's not even human and doesn't want to attract the pieces of crap

Preston

Olympus