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gallusrostromegalus · 11 months

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The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

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I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

youtube

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

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If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

#Family Lore #Dogs #It's Halloween babey #friday the 13th #blood mention #I hope that kid had a good night and at least one of his friends believed him #Long post #Video

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devildeals1 · 2 years

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#DevilDeals #devil deals #made in India toys #toys unboxing #toys review #toys unboxing hindi #Indian Toys unboxing channel #chatpat toy tv #crazy xyz #Gun toy for kids #gun toys #nerf #soft bullet gun #foam bullet gun #battery operated gun #quick unboxing #toys unboxing video #toy guns #khelone wali bandook

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bump1nthen1ght · 2 months

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Attention to Detail (M!Reader x M!Demon)

Pairing: Male!Demon Cosplayer x Male!Demon

Genre: Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Flirty, Fluffy

Word Count: 2563 words

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Halloween is a great time to subtly flex your cosplay skills, pouring hour and hours into your costume. You’d even found an occult book at a second-hand store for reference! At a house party, someone pays special attention to all your hard work.

Request: I’m so glad you’re doing well and good!

Can I request a Male Demon x Male Demon Cosplayer on halloween night? Cosplayer could think that the demon is just another dude unaware of the actual danger he’s in?

and maybe could the demon praise and love cosplayer for cosplaying their kind and getting all the little details just right? 🥹

Sometimes, house parties aren’t so bad.

Sure, they could be crowded, smelly, and way too loud. But that was often a by-product of teenage stupidity and desperation; too many bodies crammed into one place, scrambling for beer and faking adulthood. As an adult they get a lot more tolerable. Comes with practice, you suppose.

This halloween house party has been great so far. You’d come with a group of friends who'd all split up, leaving you to find more drinks in the kitchen, but it wasn’t super stifling. You’d actually gotten a lot of compliments on your costume too, a little ego boost to ease you into socializing with all the strangers.

This kitchen is nice as well. Spacious, lots of counter space, some really nice cooking ware. The kinda thing you appreciate more as an adult. The walls helped block out a lot of the music as well, a perfect hiding hole to refill your beverages and recharge your battery for a second. And adjust your costume. God, leather and sweat do not mix.

You take the time and admire your costume-paint, several runes decorating up and down your bare arms. The paint held up pretty well after dancing for so long, the intricate lines still being cohesive. Your body paint had begun to chafe and smudge a little at your knees and elbows, but luckily were hidden beneath your many leather accessories.

“Ow, fuck!”

A voice snaps you from your admiration, a shadowed figure with a red solo cup in his hand, now rubbing his forehead.

“Damned horns. These infernal houses are too small…” He doesn’t seem to notice you at all when he ducks his head and enters the kitchen. It makes sense, you’re probably under his line of sight because holy fuck this guy is tall.

You're not the best frame of reference, still sitting on the counter as you are, but he’s pushing 6 '6, maybe even 6' 7. Not including the horns, which seemed to add an extra 3 inches of height alone. You wonder what they’re made of to support their bulk. They stay pinned to his head well too, despite the bump. His paint is immaculately done, dark purple showing no signs of fading or chipping away.

“You need some ice?”

That catches his attention, your quiet voice somehow making this absolute giant of a man jump out of his skin. His eyes are wide, yellow sclera glowing in the dark.

Gotta ask where he got those contacts. They look so real.

Said eyes go up and down, his nose twitching as he takes a deep breath. His face crinkles. Jeez, did you smell that bad? You’d made sure to wear deodorant!

“No…I am alright.” He rubs the sore area again. “It’s just the third time it’s happened. Who lives in this house? Imps?”

That gets a snort from you.

“I think you're just tall, dude. Those horns are killer though, totally worth a casual head injury.”

The tall cosplayer stands a little bit taller, finally relaxing and properly looking you in the eye.

“Thank you. I like..” His eyes narrow, “..yours too.”

You brush a hand across your clip-on horns, gentle enough to not mess with the paint. You had set it, but those hours of shaving down the foam and painting were not to go to waste. “Thanks, not that sturdy but I figured I wouldn’t be headbanging too much tonight.”

The man goes silent, eyes now locked on your arms. You twist your forearm, wondering if maybe the paint had smudged while you weren’t looking.

“Those are incredible.” The man is able to cross the length of the room in just one stride, now firmly in your bubble. You figure he must be a little tipsy and not realize, so you brush it off. Hard to be mad when you’re getting complimented.

“Thanks, man. It was hard getting the shapes just right in the mirror. But I think I did an okay job.”

“You did a fantastic job.” He eyes the specific curves of one rune, the more intricate one on your inner wrist. “People often mess this one up, you see. They forget the toz’goth.”

He gestures to a small arrow-like shape protruding out of the side of the rune.

“Is that how you say it?” The book you had copied from hadn’t had many English sections, most being in a script unrecognizable to you or Google Translate. “Good to know.”

“May I?” The man gestures towards your forearm, palm out and stretched open to hold. You quirk up an eyebrow. You don’t even know this guy's name and he’s already asking for a feel?

But he has been giving me a lot of praise, sooooo.

It’s a mixture of the alcohol and the need for approval that has you nodding, setting your arm into his palm. You finally notice his long, sharp black nails as they gently wrap around your wrist, hand ensconcing it in its size. A textured thumb brushes across your inner wrist. A (hopefully) impercitable shiver runs down your spine.

Can’t say I hate this.

The man mutters under his breath as he traces more and more of the runes, nodding approvingly. You try not to shake with giddy.

“The detail you’ve managed with just a paintbrush is astonishing.” His low voice does pleasant things to your stomach, eyes still locked in thought.

“Thanks, I got a nice set for Christmas. One benefit of being the ‘artist’ of the family, I guess.” You snort, thinking back to all the cheap sets you’d gotten over the years. The thought was appreciated, if nothing else. “I buy the paint in bulk, it does great for really long wear time. I can send you the link, if you want.”

The man just hums, eyes now crawling farther up your arm to your biceps, then to your shoulders. It lands on your neck and you swear the man darts out his tongue to lick his lips when he lands on your pulse. Your stomach flips again.

“My name's ____, by the way. What’s yours?”

The man's eyes go slightly wide, a smirk curling up the sides.

“Galvith, the Torturer.”

“Ah, much cooler than mine already.” You play long, a little salty he didn’t give you his real name when you gave yours, but whatever. Maybe he’s just really method with his cosplays, or a more private person in general. “It’s a shame, left all my torturing stuff at home. Otherwise us demons could have had some real fun.”

That gets a laugh, a shockingly boisterous laugh. You see the hints of sharp canines, surely fake, that almost glint in the low light.

“Yes, I bet we could.” Galvith chuckles to himself, almost like he’s remembering an inside joke. “I’d be the brawn, you’d be the brains behind the operation?”

“Well, if you insist.” You throw your hand in a faux sign of humility. “Just didn’t want you to waste all those muscles, big guy.” Patting his chest is a good way for you to subtly feel his chest, and wow are those pecs prominent. Gotta respect the hustle, Galvith is a brick shithouse.

Galvith takes the compliment easily, going the extra mile and flexing his bicep, which is almost as big as the honeydew melon sitting not too far from you. Thank god you’re sitting, or else you’d have probably swooned already.

“Think we’d have to get you a different outfit though. Cargo shorts and a graphic tee aren’t really giving ‘torturer’.”

“And I suppose all of this is?” Galvith flicks at a tassel on your leather vest. “Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of leather?”

“Hey man, don’t hate the look! What kind of torture-expert would I be if I didn’t bring style to the gig?”

“A messy one, that’s what.” Galvith takes a step back eyeing your whole outfit, from your vest to your ripped jeans to your combat boots with studs. “You’re less tortue-expert and more Incubus. All style and,” He eyes up your exposed clavicle, tracing it with his eyes, “-debauchery.”

The word feels so perfect coming out his mouth, like it was molded by it. This hard seltzer must be stronger than you thought, cause you can’t remember the last time a total stranger had you this horny.

“Well maybe I’m looking to change positions. Heard it’s much cushier, being an Incubus and all.”

Gavith chuckles, eyes once more rolling up and down your body. Goosebumps pepper the back of your neck, a primordial something settling in your gut. You're not sure if it’s a good or bad thing.

“You’ve certainly got the looks for it, little one.” He clicks his teeth, fake fangs and all. You’re impressed by the durability, and how he doesn’t seem to speak with a lisp with them in.

You find yourself getting lost in his contacts, yellow and slitted. They don’t seem to be irritating him at all, and you add it to the list to ask what his prescription is. It’ll be hard to remember though, when he places a hand right by your thigh, enclosing into your space.

“Do you like to dance, my little Incubus?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow the lump in your throat, once again getting lost in his hot gaze, in that sultry look. “Yeah, I like to dance.”

“Good.” A clawed hand settles on your lower back, pushing you off the counter and practically in his arms. On the ground, it’s even more noticeable just how big Galvith is. “Let’s test out that body paint, shall we?”

—

It’s hot on the make-shift dance floor, despite just being a mat laid out in the backyard, a wireless speaker pumping the top 100 over the party noise. But with Galvith’s hands on your hips, those fangs nipping at the top of your ear, you're steamy.

“I must admit, I’m a fan of this new genre of human music.”

Galvith whispers in your ear, swaying your bodies to the drum beat.

“I think they call it ‘pop’.” You play along, adding an extra haught to your voice, as if you're really 100 plus years old.

“Hm, like the pop of a vertebrae when you snap it in half. Or a bone being forced out of the socket.”

That has you both laughing, that shared dark humor coming in clutch. You could get down with this kind of roleplay.

“Exactly! The most pleasant sound around.”

Galvith swings you by the hips, your feet nearly lifting off the ground. Your head gets thrown back in a giggle. Seems like those muscles aren’t just for show.

“Oh, what is this?”

Galvith grabs at your necklace, now untucked from your high collar and free flowing. His eyes go slightly wide at the intricate design, composed of several small circles and wrapping lines.

“A friend made it for me actually. She makes jewelry and I offered to trade some leather pieces for a custom design.” You look at the emblem, wondering if he recognized whatever series the book you found came from. It was extremely detailed, and although a bit on the older side, was full of information too niche to be from any religions you’re aware of. You double checked and everything.

“Asmaes.” Galvith purrs, twirling the sigils between his fingers. The silver chain rubs against the back of your neck. “Fitting piece, you chose well my little Incubus. Superb craftsmanship as well, kudos to your friend.”

“Thanks, I’ll let her know.”

Before you can ask him more about the book, he spins you around once more, the world turning as he drops you into a dip. Galvith pulls you up with just as much ease, your ankle hooking around his calf so you don’t collide face-first.

Hot breath blows across your lips, your tongue darting out for just a second. Up-close, those fake fangs look even more real. The closeness is almost too much, your eyes darting to look away. But a calloused thumb presses against your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“So…delectable.”

Sweat pools at your clavicle as Galvith kisses you. Your costume fangs clank together, almost coming loose in your mouth, but it’s hard to care. Not when his hand comes down to your hip, grabbing you and pushing you against him.

It’s easy to fall into the kiss, for that sense of shame to fall to the wayside, even as he practically devours you in front of all these people. You’re not usually like this, you don’t come to these parties for someone to kiss and grind against. But there’s something about him, something thats drawing you in. It’s hot, like a moth to a flame.

The only thing that drags you out of the lust-bubble is the vibration of a phone in Galvith’s pocket, resonating against the thigh you currently have pressed up against him. He growls into your mouth, pulling back at the very last moment.

Galvith curses in a foreign language, you think, grabbing the phone with one hand, the other still swaying you side to side.

“What?”

You swallow down a weird jump of fear. Jeez, you would not want to be on the other side of that phone call.

An unintelligible voice babbles something from the speaker. The vein in Galvith’s head begins to bulge.

“Fine. Whatever.”

He hangs up as the other person is mid-sentence. You don’t even get a chance to ask who it was, before he steals you in another breath-taking kiss.

“Sorry, little human. I have to go.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, sorry.” You try to unlodge yourself from his arms, the haze of kissing fading and feeling a little more than embarrassed. God, what came over you? But Galvith’s grip is tight, keeping you in place with an alluring smirk.

“Do not worry, we will meet again. Sometime soon.”

You try not to let your smile get too wide, to seem too eager. “Sure thing. Do you want my phone number, or-”

Galvith digs his face into your neck, taking a deep whiff. You nearly squeak. He pulls away with a shuddering breath, wetting his bottom lip.

“I’ll know where to find you.”

Finally, Galvith unwinds his arms, letting you free. You find yourself almost lurching forward, desperate to feel that heat again.

It’s gotta be the alcohol, right? That’s the only logical explanation.

Galvith gives you one last peck to the cheek, a cheeky squeeze of your ass.

“Goodbye, my sweetling.”

With that he’s sauntering back into the house, leaving you speechless and breathless. All alone in someone’s backyard.

I gotta find my friends. They gotta hear about this.

—

Galvith has to sneak into a broom closet to teleport, just barely large enough to fit him. It’s demeaning, even if the spell takes just a second to go through.

Ugh, the one time he finds an interesting human, and he’s called in for an ‘emergency.’ He had wanted to scream at the amatuer demon over the phone. “It’s torture! How hard could it be to figure it out!?”

Galvith steals himself. It will do no good to be angry. Save it for the poor soul currently strung up by his ankles. He takes a deep sniff of the palm of his hand, the smell of leather, denim and your sweat still lingering.

He’ll come back for his little human. One day.

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #male reader insert #x reader #demon x reader

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what-if-nct · 11 months

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What Stray Kid's cum taste like

Bangchan: Stress, whatever that may taste like with a hint of unexpected pineapple.

Lee know: Batteries, not battery acid but like if you put a AA battery in your mouth, there's a slight tingle but it's pleasant.

Changbin: Protein powder, not flavored just pure protein powder straight from the container.

Hyunjin: Sweet cold foam, vanilla, powdered sugar and a hint of fresh coffee.

Han: Twizzlers, nerds, grape fanta and mozzarella sticks he left under his bed for a week.

Felix: Fresh strawberries, sunshine, apple juice, fresh baked cookies, it is an honor to even taste it.

Seungmin: Perrier sparkling water, cucumber, lemon and a slight tinge of antibacterial soap.

Jeongin: Five different flavors of monster, rockstar, sour gummy worms and warm flat mountain dew.

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #helped by 🐖🐇 anon #stray kids #stray kids scenario #stray kids smut #smut #bangchan #lee know #han #han Jisung #Felix lee #seungmin #Jeongin #Changbin

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eufiemoon · 6 months

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How to Make: Electronic Wings for Cosplay

Hello Everyone! It's been a while since I last uploaded a written tutorial on here and since I just finished and wore my Dame Aylin cosplay this last weekend it seemed appropriate to jump back in with a tutorial on one of the costume pieces!

Her wings were the star of the show this weekend and I know a lot of people were curious about how I made them! A huge source of knowledge and inspiration behind these wings was this video by Axceleration, I made a few changes to the frame shape and electrical circuitry for mine but her tutorial was a huge stepping stone to give me the confidence to tackle them myself!

Health and Safety:

When working with Sintraboard (as well as other thermoplastics) it is incredibly important you wear a respirator as well as goggles when heating, moulding and cutting it. The fumes this plastic will give off when heated up are no joke! Make sure you're in a well-ventilated space!

Basic tool safety knowledge is also really important! wearing gloves when using power tools can be more dangerous in most situations, so always be aware of where your hands are vs where the tools are. Always cut away from yourself and take things slowly, don't panic.

Electrical safety! You're working with live wires and circuitry! make sure your hands are dry, you aren't touching the bare wires at any point when they are connected to a power source, and if you choose to solder anything, make sure you're wearing heat-proof gloves and a mask in a ventilated space!

Tools

Wire stripper

Screwdriver and wrench

Dremel - I recommend the Dremel 3000 rotary tool personally! Some essential Dremel bits you'll need for this include, a sanding bit, drill bit (smaller or same size as your screws/bolts), and a small/narrow cutting bit. These will usually come with the Dremel!

Heat Gun (A hairdryer will not get hot enough to heat the Sintraboard!!)

Pipe cutter (alternatively you can use a hacksaw for this!)

Hacksaw

Ruler

Scissors (for cutting fabric straps)

Materials

Heat shrink Tubing

2 core electrical wire

switch (you want a three position, six pin switch, like this one, even better if it has the Screws on the pins! otherwise you'll need a soldering kits to solder the wires to the pins.

2x 8AA 12v Battery Holders

2x 12v Linear Actuators (Mine had a stroke length of 100mm)

21.5mm PVC Pipes (I got 2x 3m Lengths)

2x 21.5mm PVC Pipe straight couplers

6mm 8"x12" Sintraboard

Nuts/Bolts/Screws (I used M5 bolts for the base & Actuator connectors and M6 screws to attach the hinges to the pipes! You'll need Washers for every Nut & Bolt!)

Hinges (I used 2.5cm wide hinges that were skinny but long so they would just about fit along the PVC pipe! 3" gate hinges would work!)

50 metre Polythene Jiffy foam roll (in retrospect this was ALOT of foam, you could definitely get away with maybe a 20-30 metre roll! I now have a load leftover XD)

16 AA Batteries (I used 16 and had enough for the whole day with them on, I think They'd probably be enough for another half a day-full day too! but have spares just in case!)

Webbing strap ( I went for grey to match my base suit colour!)

Buckle - as wide as the webbing strap you use!

3 metres of white cotton fabric (or whatever colour wings youre going for!)

Optional

Zipties (for cleaning up the wires)

Lets Go!

Sintraboard is this wonderfully stable thermoplastic that is relatively easy to cut into (with the right tools) and when heated allows you to mould its shape! I started by using a mannequin and heating the Sintraboard with a heat gun for a few minutes to make it pliable, I recommend using gloves for this part as the materials gets VERY HOT! Press the board into the shape of the mannequin's back, taking note of the edges especially! you want this board to sit as comfortably to your body shape as possible as it makes a huge difference to how long you can wearing the wings for in this backplate is comfy!

Once shaped, I placed it against my back to make sure it was a good fit, heating again and making any alterations I needed (again don't place bright hot plastic to your bare skin! wear protective clothes and wait till its slightly cooler to do this, with the help of a friend!). I then took a hacksaw and rounded the corners, before sanding the edges with my Dremel! Try to avoid cutting off loads, just enough to make things less likely to snag.

3. I then cut in four holes, wide enough to feed my webbing strap through, two at the top and one on either side below where my arms would sit! I measured the webbing strap by firstly feeding them through the top holes and pinning them, and then bring the strap over my should to everything sits where it should and seeing where the strap hits the side hole and cutting the length there! you'll also want a strap that attaches across the chest, meeting in the centre with a buckle!

4. After sewing the straps closed I was able to move onto the PVC pipe structure! This may change slightly depending on the finished shape you want but I needed the PVC pipes to come out from inside a breastplate so had a particularly angle as well as character references to work with! I began by heating the pipe over my heat gun and flattening a portion of it under a heavy object so it would sit much more flush against the backboard and sit better underneath my breastplate before moving onto securing the first portion of the structure to the backplate. This mainly involved lots of try-ons and measuring to make sure the angles were correct and symmetrical and was quite fiddly but well-worth the effort! I'll include a diagram of the general shape I went with below:

5. I wanted my wings to be relatively modular for ease of travel so I needed to make sure certain portions of them could come away from other parts easily, so I popped a straight coupler on the top of the pipes that were attach to the breastplate, this also meant I could slot the breastplate over these shorter pipes and wear everything correctly! Then these second pipes slot on and at the other end they are attached via hinges to the longest portion of the pipe 'skeleton', Diagram below:

6. Now that the skeleton was put together, it's time for the electrical stuff! It's a good idea to figure out where your circuit is going to lay on the skeleton - consider if you want the battery packs mounted the the backplate or, like me, put them inside the actual wings in removeable pockets for easy access and removal for battery changes. all your wires will go through the switch so deciding where you want to place that is very important! Mine was placed just over my shoulder on the front side, mounted to the PVC pipe with a metal cover I drilled a hole into to slip the switch through and then drill through the pipe.

I've included another diagram below that explains all the electrical circuitry, including which wires go on which pins on the switch!

Important to note: The linear actuators need to be placed and bolted into the PVC pipes at *exactly* the same angle on each side, any slight deviation will lead to the wings going up wonkily! So take your time and make as many adjustments as necessary.

7. You can extend your wires by adding on the electrical wire, just match the colours, and put heat shrink tubing over the connections to hide the live wires! I ended up zip-tying the wires into organised bundles once the wings were done to help keep everything safe from snags.

8. Now its time for the Wings themselves! I drafted my base pattern by just draping the white cotton fabric I had over the wing when it was fully extended. I then pinned the wings to the shape I wanted them to be along the bottom before cutting along the pins. I ran the fabric through my sewing machine to close the bottom edge, leaving a gap wide enough by the wing base so I could slip the wing on and off, closing it with velcro. I also added little fabric pockets inside of these to hold my battery packs, which also connected via velcro for easy removal!

9. Now that I had a wing base I was able to begin making feathers! I cut out a total of 800 feathers out of polythene jiffy roll for these wings, in 6 different styles and using real life bird wings to dictate the shapes I used and where I placed them. I ended up hot gluing every individual feather onto the white fabric base, going row by row until every side was covered, the wing covers themselves are super light because of the foam feathers and they shine light through them in a really magical way!

Optional: I also ended up going over these feathers with my airbrush and some super light beige paint to help darken the shadows, this is entirely optional and may change depending on the wings you're looking to make!

When in neutral position and in extended position the wings looks like this:

Mine had a wingspan of about 7ft total when fully extended but when in neutral position they were fairly close to my own proportions! mainly staying behind me and weren't much of a problem in a packed con hall!

Photo by: Helloimfran (on Instagram and Twitter)

I hope this tutorial helped and if there are any questions about anything in specific don't hesitate to reach out at [email protected] or on my instagram or twitter (@eufiemoon)

Happy Crafting!

#cosplay #cosplayer #cosplaying #baldurs gate iii #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #dame aylin #aylin x isobel #bg3 aylin #cosplay tutorial #Wings #fantasy #tutorial #cosplay help #cosplay tips

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

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Summer Love // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: Falling in love with the Hard Decks new barkeep wasn’t on Bradley Bradshaws 2023 bingo. What else wasn’t on that bingo card was that the barkeep was a Floyd…..

Warnings. Porn with a plot. Bradley Bradshaw x Reader. (Nickname Pip) Mentions of near sexual assault/harassment. SMUT!

Word Count: 6.6k

Author Note: Okay so I know I said I was taking a little break to recharge my batteries but this was my attempt at a little break. Here’s a Rooster one-shot.

“Barkeep!” Bradley beamed as he entered the Hard Deck, his eyes immediately on you from the second he stepped through the threshold. “My oh my aren’t you a sight for sore eyes—“ It wasn't hard to tell Bradley Bradshaw was smitten for the new bar hire. Penny had easily picked up on the aviator's demeanour change from the moment he realised you were going to be a permanent fixture around the Hard Deck. “How you doing this fine Friday afternoon?”

“I haven’t had enough sleep to deal with this this afternoon—“ Bob groaned as he followed Rooster's path. Both aviators making strides in your direction. Coming to sit at the bar, both men made you the centre of their universe for two very different reasons. “I’ll have a coke thanks Pip.” Bob smiled softly as he took his glasses off to clean the lens. Nodding you turned your attention to Rooster, raising a brow as you flipped your bar towel over your shoulder.

“Draft please Pip—“ Rooster ordered his usual, fishing out his wallet from his back pocket. Handing over his card as he leaned on the bar. “Before I walk out on my tab again.” It had happened a few too many times, Bradley Bradshaw the life of the party—would sink back a few too many beers and leave slung over the shoulders of his colleagues and friends. He’d always make the walk of shame the next day however—tail between his legs as he’d cautiously tap his card on the bar, gaining your utmost attention with a cheshire cat smile and a guilty look lingering in his eyes.

You took the card with a tight smirk, placing it into your back pocket before opening up a tab in Bradley’s name before fetching Bob a glass of ice—hitting the nozzle of the soda gun on the lip of the glass for a brief second before pouring the syrup and soda water mixture right into the glass.

“You boys gonna give me any trouble tonight?” Raising your eyebrow, as you turned your attention back to Rooster now that Bob had his coke. Roosters only reaction was to lean a little further on the bar. Watching as you poured his glass from the tap. Holding it at a forty five degree angle so it didn't gain a head the size of his own ego.

“No ma’am, no trouble here.” Rooster winked as he mimicked your smirk, accepting the beer you cautiously slid along the bar. “Thanks Pip.” It hadn’t taken you long to settle into Fightertown, you’d asked Bob if you could come and stay with him for a few months until you found your feet again after what seemingly felt like you hit rock fucking bottom. You’d fallen out of love with your profession, journalism. You broke up with your long term boyfriend Ben after he’d got wind of your sudden desire for a sea change and possible career move. You just needed a new start, a new home, a new life.

Bartending had always been something you were good at, although you didn't drink–much like your older, half-brother Robert.

“You uh, are you doing anything this Sunday?” Rooster asked softly as he looked up at you, taking a small sip of his beer as Bob choked on his coke. You just shook your head no. Not one to talk all that much. Eyeing off the foam that had settled into Rooster's moustache from the foam cap of his beer.

“If you’re gonna flirt with my sister, please don’t do it in front of me.” Bob snarled as he shook his head in disbelief. These fucking guys honestly. Rooster playfully held his hands up in surrender. Scoffing at the accusations made by the seemingly well reserved weapons systems officer.

“I don't think I like what you’re insinuating Bob.” Rooster fired back with a wild shit eating grin as you chuckled softly to yourself, wiping down the bar with your rag as you watched the two interact. The bar was barely open. The only two patrons to have arrived, having got off early on this fine Friday afternoon. “I'm not flirting, am I Pip?” Rooster asked as you raised your eyebrows. Scoffing slightly as you bit your bottom lip momentarily.

“Well if you're trying you don’t seem to be doing all that well.” Rooster held a hand over his heart as he stared at you with hazel eyes. Deep browns and shades of greens swirling as he faked a hurt that cut deep into his heartstrings—forcing a laugh so pure from your soul it left Rooster wanting more of you always.

“You two make me sick—“ Bob rolled his eyes as he hopped off the barstool, heading over to the pool table. Rounding up bar tables and stools that he knew his fellow aviators would soon fill. Leaving you and Rooster to devote all your attention to one another. Bob would joke and tease and taunt you about your blooming romance with Rooster, but if there was anyone Robert Floyd would trust with his sister? It was Bradley Bradshaw. He had noticed early on in your impromptu over-extended stay that Rooster had developed an affinity for you. The usually reserved fighter pilot had no chill when it came to his advances with you.

“So Sunday?” Rooster was quick on the draw as he saw more and more people flood into the Hard Deck, knowing his time with you was fleeting at best. That your attention would be scattered for the better half of the evening working the bar and bussing tables.

“What did you have in mind, Flyboy?” You beamed his way with a glint in your eyes. Those fuck me eyes Rooster could hardly resist. You weren't not interested, if anything you were incredibly interested in Bradley–but you were a little hesitant to fall in love when you weren't even sure if North Island was the place for you and to make mattress all the more difficult while you were trying to find yourself, falling in love with a naval aviator didn't really make the situation any easier to navigate. He could be shipped off or deployed anywhere at any minute. Another detachment could rear its ugly head and god knows for how long he’d be gone?

But with all that in the back of your mind it was still hard to resist the charming ways of Bradley Bradshaw when he was hopping off his barstool, making strides around the bar to stand beside you.

“Penny doesn’t like it when you come behind the bar Bradshaw–” You tried to hide your ever present smile as you continued cleaning the bar. “You’re gonna make me ring that bloody bell, aren't you?”

“You, me, dinner at that restaurant in town that does that really nice sweet potato gnocchi.” Ignoring your reluctance to have him behind the bar with you, Rooster pressed on. Trapping you between him and the bar– strong arms on either side of you as he gently kissed your neck.

There wasn’t exactly a word to describe what you had with Rooster. The two of you had been talking, flirting, sneaking around and getting to know one another. But you were still very much an enigma to him. Rooster only knew a handful of things about you. One, that you were Bob's younger, half sister. Two, that you smelt of vanilla and bourbon. Three, that you weren't hard to get, but hard to earn–which made you all the more worth it. Four, that Pip wasn’t your real name–it was a nickname of sorts. A callsign if you will. But you just preferred Pip.

“You really wanna take me to dinner?” The way you said it made Roosters' hearts ache. Of course he did? Why would he not want to take you to dinner? It's not like he hadnt asked you a million times before. “Like you actually wanna take me to dinner?” Turning around in between his arms to face him, Bradley stepped back a little to give you some space as you leaned back against the bar crossing your arms.

“If you’ll finally give me a chance to?” Bradley smirked as he watched your eyes trail from his eyes down to his lips, lingering a little further down to the collar of his T-shirt. Sticking a few fingers inside the collar to scratch at his collarbone. “Eyes up here Pip.” Reaching over to grab the schooner you'd poured him, Bradley took a sip of his beer as you rolled your eyes. Pushing off the bar before turning on your heels to attend to the other thirsty patrons who started taking up the other barstools.

“Get out from behind my bar–”

“I'll pick you up at six o’clock?” It had become an unintentional stand-off, you eyeing off Rooster as he did so you. Patrons were starting to floor the Hard Deck every passing second and you knew if you let this charade go any longer you were going to have to deal with a very unimpressed crowd waiting on their amber beverages. “Or whatever time you like?” Shrugging with a wild smirk, Rooster waited for your response. He knew he was wheezing his way into the cracks that had started to form in your tougher than most exterior. He’d find a way in, if he just gave you time.

“What can I get you Dave?” You asked the man who'd come up and sat at the bar. A regular older gentleman who worked in the technicians block at Miramar.

“Just a Budwiser thanks Pip–on tap if you've fixed up the keg.” Nodding, you tried to hide your smirk as Rooster came to stand beside you, pouring his own beer from the tap after having finished the first one you’d poured him. “I never said yes to your little date idea, and don’t touch my taps Bradshaw Pennys gonna kill you.”

“Well unlike every other time–” Bumping your hip with his Rooster kept his gaze down, trained on the beer he was pouring himself. “You didn't immediately shut me down so I think we’re starting to make a little progress here.” You could feel the heat in your cheeks rising, smitten. Completely sitten. “And I never called it a date.” Rooster smirked as he felt the heat in his own cheeks rising from the back and forth flirting. He loved it, he’d always enjoyed a good game of chase. “You are far too much like your brother Pip, always making assumptions.” Bradley was quick as he placed a kiss on your cheek before you even registered what he was doing. That's all you really had, small fleeting moments that meant the whole damn world to you.

“Get out from behind my bar before I ring that bloody bell on you, Bradshaw.” Bumping Roosters hip with your own once again you grinned ear to ear. Turning to face him with barely any space between you. “I'm not kidding–” You interrupted your moment with Rooster to hand Dave over his beer. “Eight fifty thanks Dave.” It had become a common occurrence for most of the regulars to see Bradley Bradshaw behind the bar making a nuisance of himself. Dave in particular saw a lot of Nick Bradshaw in the way Bradley danced around you like a fly on a hot summer's day. The apple hadnt fallen far from the tree at all. Handling over the ten dollar bill, Dave just took in the sight that was playing out before him like a poorly put together romance novel, Rooster Bradsahw had it bad and everyone could tell.

“Neither am I–” With a hand on your hip pulling you into his, Bradleys eyes trailed down to your lips. He wasn't going to, not like this. Not when there were people waiting to be served. Not when Dave the engineer's assistant was sitting right in front of you. But it was fun to think about. His lips on yours, he’d only been blessed with that feeling, that sensation a handful of times. “Go to dinner with me–”

“If I say yes will you let me do my job for the rest of the night?” You spoke through gritted teeth, pretending to be annoyed as you handed the older gentleman his change from the till as Rooster trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you went to take the next order. Fixing the bow of your barmaids apron as you walked away from him across to the other side of the bar.

“Great so It's a date.” He’d tricked you, sending you a shit eating grin before ducking back under the bar. “Sunday night at six o’clock.” Rooster beamed, that cherishe like smile had crept back across his face as he stood for a moment just admiring you. “You know where to find me!” Raising his beer as you stood in disbelief at how well Rooster had played you. He wasn't wrong though, you always knew where to find him, and he’d always be there for you when you needed him. A few weeks ago, you were convinced Rooster had saved your life. You never spoke about it, never brought it up and neither did he. Probably for two very separate reasons, but regardless it happened and you were still processing the whole ordeal.

“Bradley–” The way you said his name as your legs fell either side of his hips had Roosters head spinning. Sitting on top of the bar after closing, Rooster had his hands on either side of your face. Pulling you into him as your tongue danced with his. “Take me home?” If he wasn't hard before he was most definitely hard now. Nodding as he let his forehead rest against yours. Licking his lips as the taste of your chapstick lingered on his.

“I'll take these bins out for you and we’ll go?” Penny had left you to shut up shop for the night. It had been rather quiet. Rooster hung back originally just to talk to you. Spend as much time with you as he possibly could. Stepping away as he helped you off the bar, Rooster grabbed the garbage bags and kissed your forehead. His hand on the back of your head keeping you pressed against his lips until he was satisfied and let go. “Don't go anywhere.”

You watched as Bradley disappeared out the back, deciding to wipe down the bar just one more time before you started turning off the lights. Going about your regular routine whenever you closed up the bar.

“You've got time for one more beer, don't you sweetheart?” There were three of them. Since when were you stupid enough to not lock the front doors? Oh yeah– that's right, the one time you decided to let your inhibitions get the better of you and got a little too hot with Bradley Bradshaw. “Or did we miss the fun?” You weren't too sure what he was insinuating, had he seen you with Bradley? Kissing on the bar.

“It's a few hours past last call, sorry gentlemen, can't help you tonight.” You tried ushering them out back towards the direction of the front doors. But they didn't budge. If anything they were delighted that you'd come closer. Lessening the distance between them and you. “I'm serious fellas, the bars closed.”

“I'm sure Penny wouldn't like knowing her Bartenders are screwing around with top paying patrons now would she?” One of them hissed as he stepped a little closer.

“Is that a threat?” You could recognise a threat from a mile away. You didn’t play dumb, you just fucked dumb, except for Braldey–he was far from dumb. Watching as the three men stepped a little closer to where you stood in absolute shock. You could hold your own, but you weren't that stupid enough to know three against one wasn't a fair fight. Your body just froze.

“You tell me, pretty girl–” They'd surrounded you, curling you like hawkes just waiting for their prey to die. “Now are you gonna get that beer or are we gonna see just how pretty you look bent over that bar instead of propped up on it?” Caressing the side of your cheek slowly, the man hummed as he coaxed a response from you.

“I only got draft on tap or cider–” Whenever you were scared or protecting yourself or those you loved, your southern drawl seemed to be more prominent, Much like Bob’s. “What’ll you have?”

“That's more like it, isn't it boys.” They all laughed as you shakingly took a step back into one of them, their hands coming to grip your forearms tightly. “But I still think we’d rather see you up on that bar.” Your eyes never left the mans as you clenched your jaw. His hand running up the inner part of your thing before landing near the zip of your jeans. “I know your type, you’ll fuck anything that’ll have you–wont you?”

“Everything alright out here Pip?” God you'd never been more relieved to hear Bradleys voice. Exhaling a sigh of relief as you craned your head to see where he was standing. By the back door with Penny’s double barrel rifle up and pointing in the direction of the guys who'd surrounded you. “If she doesn't give me an answer in two seconds I’m taking it as a no–”

“We’re just having a little fun aren't we boys?” Rooster wasn't having a bar of it, cocking the rifle as a warning.

“It's been more than two seconds and I still don't have an answer–” There was nothing but red in Roosters ledger right now. Stepping out of the shadows as he came closer and closer to you with meaningful strides. Never lowing his weapon. “Leave, before I decide your worth doing time over.” The silence was deafening as Rooster stepped in front of you as all three men backed out of the bar, not one turning their backs on Rooster. “Cops will met em on their way up the road, would’ve been back sooner but I heard what was going on and took pictures of their plates.” Rooster explained as he waited for the three men to pile into the truck out the front that hadn’t been there when you were closing up earlier. Once Rooster was one hundred percent satisfied they were gone? That’s when he turned to you. Placing the gun onto the bar as you crumbled into a heap in his arms. Shaking and crying uncontrollably.

“Brad—“

“Shhh, I got you, I’ve got you Y/n.” No callsigns. No nicknames. It was you and Bradley. Holding you in his protectively arms as you cried your heart out on the floor of the Hard Deck. Rooster never ended up taking you back to his—he took you home. Where Bob thanked Rooster with his life for keeping his sister safe.

Rooster knew this was going to set the timeline of his progress with you back ten fold–but he didn't mind all that much. Rooster was just glad you were safe, that you were okay and that in time he could love you like you deserved to be loved.

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

It was easy to get through a busy shift when everytime you looked up, you met Bradleys gaze. He was always watching from afar. Somewhat protective but respectful of your personal space and boundaries all at the same time.

“So what's got you all smiles tonight Pip?” Hangman asked as you came around with an empty bar tray to collect the empty glasses. Penny knew you used it as an excuse to get out from behind the bar and talk to the patrons. One specific aviator in particular. “You’d think by now your cheek would be cramping?” Jake Seresin was a good person, you could tell that much just by the way he looked after his mates.

“If you must know.” You cooed as you took his empty glass and placed it amongst the others you'd already collected. “I have a date this Sunday.” Bradley could hear your conversation as clear as day, but he wasn't going to interrupt. He’d wait till you came a little closer to grab your wholehearted attention. Continuing his own conversation with Payback about the new admiral.

“A date huh? With Bradshaw?” Jake teased as he smirked at you, looking you up and down. “Let me guess, a pity date.”

“More like a get me off my back kinda date but still–” As you shrugged your shoulders at Jake, you turned on your heels, reaching over Bradly to grab his empty glass from the tabletop he sat by. “Excuse me Lieutenant Bradshaw, I just need to get the empties.” You knew Rooster hated it when you called him Lieutenant Bradshaw. That was reserved for work and work only, not pleasure, not play. He poked his tongue into the inner part of his cheek as he shook his head and met your gaze.

“Not funny.”

“Sorry Lieutenant–” You cooed, brushing up against his crotch as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, standing between Bradleys legs as his hand lingered on your hip, needing at the flesh as your words affected him more than he would have liked to admit. “It won't happen again.”

“Oi!” Bob hissed when he turned around to see the interaction unfolding. “This is a PG rated establishment–” At this rate, You and Rooster were going to get nowhere if Bob kept up his protective older brother shtick. “Separate please, none of that.” You didn't budge, you simply ignored your brother's request as Rooster dug his fingertips into your flesh a little more. Not wanting you to move from your place as you held the tray of empty glasses.

“I'm going on my break in fifteen minutes.” You explained. “Why don't you meet me out the back near the festoon lights?” It was as suggestive as you could make it, hoping Bradley would catch on to what you were insinuating. It wouldn't be the first time and it surely wouldn't be the last time you two would sneak away for a quick rondavoo in the back of the Bronco–but it had been a minute since the last time. If he thought about it for a little while, Rooster was sure you both haven't gotten together since that dreaded night with the three guys.

“Oh fuck–” Rooster felt like a teenager again when his cheeks begun to blush a rose hume at your words, his jeans feeling all the more tighter as he thought about the possibility of seeing you ride him again. “Okay, yeah, ill uh–i'll be there.” He nodded in quick heist as the flush of his skin started to creep up his neck. God it did things to you knowing how easily you melted the stoic Naval Aviator into a puddle. “But quit calling me Lieutenant Bradshaw, it aint funny sweetheart.”

“Really?” You pressed as you pushed away from Rooster, he looked ready to jump your bones then and there. “What would you rather me call you?” Again, you were being far too suggestive for such a public place. He’d missed this. Smirking down at you as you stepped back biting your bottom lip. “See you in fifteen, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

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

Much to your delight, Rooster kept his promise almost to the minute. Meeting you out the back at one of the table and chair sets that were illuminated by strung up festoon lights. Sitting on top of the table, you waved his way as he made strides your way, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The Hawaiian shirt he wore looked oh so stupid but in the best possible way. Only Braldey Bradshaw could pull off a Hawaiina shirt all year round.

“I'm a little disappointed you aren't already naked.” You joked as Rooster finally made his way over to you, jumping up beside you with a huff.

“Didn't wanna get done for public indecency by brother of the year.” Rooster was far too quick to tease back as you giggled softly and shook your head in defeat. It was nice to know Bob had your back, it truly was–but he was relentless. “So what's this about huh? Won't go on a date with me to save your life but you’ll happily have your way with me in the back of my Bronco?”

“I don't ever remember mentioning having my way with you in the back of your Bronco–” Much like Rooster had done to you with his plane to get you to go out on a real date with him, you had set him up. “You’re far too much like my brother, always making assumptions.”

“Oh–” Bradley puffed his chest a little as he got down from the table, pulling your legs closer to the edge as he stood between them. “So you’re telling me you don’t wanna just sneak away for a moment or two and–” You didn't let Rooster finish his sentence before you were laughing and biting your bottom lip.

“You'd only need a moment or two wouldn't you.” Bradley had never had this problem before, he wasn't ashamed of his stamina. Usually he could last for at least an hour if the sex was good, he could pace himself and edge his orgasm to the point where he could ride the high out for as long as he wanted–but with you? It had been a whole nother story. A few minutes was all it took for him to be spent. “Kinda don't need any more than five minutes.” You taunted, lifting your arm up to look at your wrist as if there was a watch wrapped around it. There wasn't. “So that leaves me with a solid ten minutes to kinda just dick around on my break.”

The first time you'd snuck away it was to the bathroom in the back of the Hard Deck. You thought for sure someone would catch you if you were gone for too long. Scared Bob would notice both you and Rooster were nowhere to be found. Bradley though, well he didn't make that a problem at all. He was done in about five minutes.

“I'll have you know that my condition is solely a problem caused by you, Pip–because although I spend most of my day thinking about you.” Leaning in, Bradley kissed you softly, pulling back seconds after as he continued showering you with endearment. “And how beautiful you are.” Again, he leaned in to kiss you, this time for a little longer, a little more passion filled. “And what I would do for just a slither of your attention.” It was this time that Bradley cupped your cheeks as he deepened the kiss he gave you, pulling you against his lips as his tongue danced with yours. Soft moans escaping as you worked to unbuckle his belt, looping it from his waist. “You still catch me off guard every time we’re together and I don’t think ill ever get over just how fucking good it feels to be with you.”

“Bronco–now.” You mumbled as you wiped your lips on your forearm. Rooster just smirked as he picked you up, a giggling mess as he rancid around the corner in the dark to where he’d parked his Bronco. “Bradley!” You squealed as he ran, carrying you in strong arms around the corner as you wrapped your legs around his waist and held onto the back of his neck.

“Shhh–” Before you could protest any further, Your back was hitting the paintjob of Bradleys Bronco. His lips were on yours in a fever dream kiss as he worked to fish his keys from his pocket. “Just go with it.” So you did. You kissed Rooster back with as much need and as much lust as he was kissing you with. Devouring one another as Bradley held you up with all his might against the side of his Bronco.

It wasn't long before you were climbing into the back seat, a giddy mess of adrenaline and need as you felt Roosters eyes on your ass as he followed you in. shutting the door behind himself before, like teenage dirtbags, you both rid yourself of any articles of clothing that just didn't seem practical for the aforementioned activities.

“Okay, okay so–” To no surprise of your own, Bradley was already a flushed mess. “How do you wanna do this?” He asked softly with big eyes and a soft smirk. It had been a minute and he just wanted you to lead the way–he’d follow. Do whatever you wanted to do. “Do you wanna maybe–” Again, you didn't let Bradley finish before you were taking his lips hostage with yours. Pulling him down on top of you as you laid back on the seat. Your rip tight around his neck. “Fuck–”

“Missed you, Missed this–” It wasn't that Braldey had inherently gone anywhere, but this was just something that had been off the cards for the last few months since the incident. Rooster respected you far too much to ever push your boundaries or climb the walls you put up. So he waited for you to make the first move.

“Missed you so much–” Travelling the expanse from your jaw down the valley of your chest and down your torso, Bradley left goosebumps wherever his lips melted against your skin. “So fucking pretty Pip–” Sinking down between your legs to meet your core, dripping and needy for his touch. “Since you think it's hilarious that I can't last more than a few minutes, let's see how long it takes you, yeah?” He’d made it a challenge, to see how long you’d last and you thought for sure it would take you a while. But as soon as Braldey pressed his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves and spread your legs as far as he could get them? You knew it wouldn't take long at all.

“Holy shit–” Your back arched off the seats as Bradley ate you out. His tongue lapping away as his fingertips danced at your entrance. “Ohh fuck!” There was a brief moment where you forgot how to breathe, that's how good it felt. The way Rooster was eating your pussy felt like he’d been starved for months, lapping and sucking and coaxing his fingers against your velvet walls. Two digits slipped in easily as your nectar pooled like it did at the base of a waterfall. All for him, all because of him. “Ohhh fuck Roos, yes!”

“Such a pretty cunt.” There had been many nights where Bradley Bradshaw jerked himself off to the thought of you, so much so the bottle of unscented moisturiser had become a permanent fixture on his bedside table. His fist would never compare to the satisfaction you gave him though. The feeling of being with you in any aspect, from the nights where you’d close up early and share a pizza down by the beach to the mornings where you’d meet up at Bradleys place and go for a run, was unparalleled. “So wet so easily Pip–”

“Say my real name.” You moaned as you fell deeper and deeper into the vortex Bradley was shoving you towards. “Bradley, say my name.” God it felt so good, the pressure in your lower abdomen was coming to a boiling point, the tips of your toes tingled with pins and needles, crinkling your nose as your breathing laps and got deeper every passing second. “Oh god oh god oh god oh god–”

“I got you Y/n, I got you–” Bradley knew you were verging on the edge of your orgasm, he wasn't going to say anything now–but he couldn't help but to smirk against your pussy as he worked you over, pumping his two digits in and out. Your juices slicked him up so good it had started to drip down his wrist. “I got you baby cum for me.” It was otherworldly every time you were with Rooster. He knew just what to do and when to send you over the edge. It was a tell tale sign though whenever you gripped his dirty blonde locks with your first, pulling harshly as you shifted your hips against his face. “Cum on my face Y/n please baby, then ill fuck you so good you’ll be hobbling behind that bar of yours.”

“Ahhhhh!!” You felt it bubbling, there was no turning back now. “Bradley i'm cumming i’m cumming i’m cumming i’m cumming ahhhh–!” Bradley didn't stop, he never stopped pumping his fingers inside you, he never stopped sucking at your swollen clit. “Ohhh fuck!” It was pure ecstasy, a euphoria only Bradley could provide you with. Your body stiffened as your orgasm washed over you like a damn titlewave. “Ohhhhhhhh–ffuuggghhhh—!”

“Fucking christ Y/n yes baby look at you.” Rooster cooed as you soaked his face, squirting a little as he hit the squishy wall of your cunt over and over again, coaxing the liquid from you like a pro. It felt too good to not ride out the high to its full capacity. Revelling in every second of your high. “Did so good for me.” Bradley was quick to wipe his mouth on the back of his forearm as he came up to meet you. Kissing your lips softly, he moaned at the thought of you tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I still have eight minutes left on my break.” You sighed as you looked up at Rooster. “You got enough in the tank to waste two minutes?”

“What the hell question is that?” It made you laugh at just how ready Bradley was. “Absolutely I do, hop on beautiful.” Within the blink of any eye, Bradley had switched up the positions you were in. A few seconds ago you had been lying on your back with him hovering on top of you. Now? You were straddling his lap as he sat back against the middle seat of his Bronco. “You know you’re the most beautiful woman i've ever met right?” Bradleys complement didn't go unnoticed, it had you breaking out into a bashful smile so bright he swore you could have seen it from space. “And you aren't just another girl.” He cooed, cupping your face as he pulled you down for a kiss. “And this isn't just some summer love for me.” He explained as you shifted in his lap, guiding the head of his cock past your slick folds and into you slowly, sinking down–taking him inch by inch. “I think I'm truly falling in love with you–”

“I think I'm truly falling in love with you too, Roo.” It would be a conversation tabled for a later day, because the moment you started moving up and down the length of Roosters cock? It was fake over for him. Moaning against your lips as you kissed him. Bouncing up and down to a rhythm of your choice, slowly, coaxing him to write where you wanted him.

“Ohhhh fuck—yes, Y/n fuck you feel so good baby.” Roosters hands gripped at your hips, helping to guide you up and down his slicked up length as you worked your way down his jaw. Kissing over his scars—sending shivers down his spine as you did so. You’d been the only woman to ever do that, he had a girlfriend once who brought him concealer. But you? You kissed at the scar tissue like it was some imperfect perfection. “Holy shit—feels so fucking good!”

“You're gonna come already Bradshaw?” You just wanted to tease him a little. “Ahh! But it feels so good, never wanna stop riding your cock.” Rooster let his head fall back against the glass of his Bronco. Squinting his eyes tight as he tried to hold out for as long as he possibly could. With you though? It was damn near impossible to. You just felt too good.

“I’m good—“ Bradley lied, you knew he did. “Keep fucking me like this though and I’m not gonna last.” You knew he was barreling towards his high. There was a tight sensation pooling at the base of his shift as his balls tightened and breathing hitched. He’d gone a bright shade of crimson, his skin blotchy and hot to the touch. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—holy shit just keep fucking me Pip keep fucking me baby feels so fucking good.” Babbling, Bradley had given himself over to the feeling you brought him. Your touch, your warmth, your ability to have him coming undone at the scene was like a personalised siren song you sung out just for him. “Where can I cum!?”

“You can cum inside me Bradley, come on baby—cum for me.” Bradley had a fair few inches to carry around. It always felt good with him buried inside you, but with only a few minutes left in your break—the two of you would have to find a lengthier time to be intimate. “You wanna cum for me? Fill me to the brim with your cum Lieutenant Bradshaw—“ There it was, that was it—your point proven, the second that rank left your mouth Rooster was pulling you flush against his chest with your arms strung behind your back. Fucking up and fast and deep and mercilessly into your dripping fucked out cunt. “Aaahhhhh! Fuck! Yes yesss!” You cried out, it felt way too good. “Bradley!”

“I told you not to call me that didn’t I?” He was done for, he was a goner—completely head over heels in love with you as he came hard and fast and without shame. “Ooohhhh fuck! Ooohhh yes, ooohhhhh god—“ flooding your cunt with the biggest load he’d ever given. “Ohh my god, that was—“

“The very definition of a quickie.” You finished Rooster's sentence as hot air steamed the windows of his Broco like that one scene in Titanic. “But I’m not complaining.”

“You wanna come back to mine after you finish work?” He asked as you sat up, his cock still inside you as he softened, deciding you had a minute or two still left to spare.

“Maybe—“ You smiled softly. “Depends on how busy the rest of the night is.” You knew Bradley hadn’t meant it in a way where he was implying another round. But you knew he would clear that up.

“I didn’t mean it like, another round—-“ Ah, yep there it was. “I just meant maybe we could just spend whatever ends up being the rest of your night together, a pre date for our real date if you will.” He beamed, leaning in to kiss you one final time before you dismounted to sit beside him. Both naked. Both spent. “And before you say you have to work tomorrow? I already asked Penny, you don’t have work tomorrow.”

“And what if I had plans of my own?” You cooed, looking over your shoulder at Rooster as you pulled your shirt back over your head.

“Cancel them.” He was as serious as a heart attack. “Spend the weekend with me gorgeous?” Rooster just wanted to be by your side always. “I know you’re reluctant, but—like I said, this isn’t summer love for me, so I’m gonna keep chasing you until you either give up or tell me to stop wasting my time.”

“Well I hope that your cardiovascular health is a lot better than your sexual stamina Bradshaw.” You teased as you buckled your jeans up. “Because I’m quite enjoying being chased.”

“Keep running than Pip.” Bradley smiled as he watched you open the door of his Bronco, sliding out as if mother happened. “Because I’ll catch you.”

“Only in your wet dreams Lieutenant Bradshaw.” You taunted as you leaned in just one more time to place a kiss against Roosters lips. Savouring the feeling before pulling away. “But yes, I’ll come back to yours after work.”

“So it’s a pre date for our date?” You couldn’t help but to laugh. Shaking your head softly as you nodded in agreement.

“Yes, a pre-date for our date.”

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

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