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fic-dumpster · 6 months ago

Note

OMG imagine this all of bonten doing the slim pickings trend if you don’t know what that is it’s basically a guy lifting a girl (normally that’s I’ll I’ve seen of this trend sorry!)

On this shoulder and flexing that basically that they can carry their girl on their shoulder 😭😩🤤

Anyways I just imagine ❤️ Kakucho ❤️ lifting us then like all of bonten wants to prove they can do it too 🫡 ugh it hurts to even think about 😖

anyways just random thought sorry it’s so long I think I had a heart attack when I thought of this

have a good day/night pookie 💋😘🙈

Anonie, idk if I got you but I’ll see what Bonten does. LET ME TELL YOU THAT I SUFFERED /J. AHSJSKS I DONT KNOW TIKTOK JAHSKSQ IM SORRY Gosh… I can’t write serious or wholesome stuff 🤧 it’s always me and my broken sense of humor.

Slim Pickings || Bonten x Reader 1.9k+ words

cw: body image, TikTok trend, nonsense, cringe… like hundred percent logging off-phone throwing-gagging worthy cringe. constant state of chaos. not edited.

��What are you two doing?” The question came from Takeomi who just stepped into your living room to see Kakucho with you sitting on his shoulder, parading you around as both laughed and smiled.

“A TikTok trend,” you answered casually.

But before Takeomi could ask more questions, the rest of Bonten began to pop into the room.

“it’s rude to stand in the entrance,” Sanzu intentionally bumped shoulders with Takeomi. Which only gained him a tired sigh from the older man.

“We heard music!” Rindou pointed out, casually strolling in.

“And your laughter,” Ran added, walking behind him brother.

After Bonten’s three menaces made their way in, silently Mikey accompanied by Kokonoi and Mochi decided to join the crowd. The shorter man curiously peeked at your form perched on his number three..

Questions began to rain on you once they saw your phone propped up on the table with more than one video of Kakucho lifting you.

“So you just lift me and place me on your shoulders,” you explained in detail to the group of men staring at your phone screen. “Yeah, like that. See?”

“We do that on a daily basis,” pointed out Ran, not really getting where this was going.

“Yeah, we see Rindou flexing his biceps at least four times a day.” Added Sanzu, snickering with his phone out scrolling through some other videos and seeing a bunch of guys just showing off.

“This shit’s easy,” huffed Rindou, ignoring the previous comment but at the same time watching Sanzu’s screen over his shoulder.

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” You rolled your eyes at the lack of initiative on their part. Although, you could guess jealousy had a part in that. They seemed bitter that your attention was solely on Kakucho.

You couldn’t have been more wrong with your statement. Bonten was not made for TikTok fame… but you didn’t know it at that time.

─────── · · ·

To see who went first they decided to draw straws… online…

You stood with Kakucho there waiting until everyone got their phones out and went to the page Rindou had shared. Lifting an eyebrow, you saw they had taken this more seriously than you had expected. Oh, yeah… they had banned Kakucho from this round.

Then you heard a groan and a bunch of hyenas laughing. First one to go? it was Kokono… and things didn’t go as planned.

“Okay, ready?” You asked a bit worried since he didn’t seem too eager to be on camera.

“Why do I have to go first?” Koko’s voice cracked a bit at the end, “you’re not posting this, right?”

A bunch of boos from the public followed Koko’s question, and by the public you mean Rindou, Ran and Sanzu. You tried to reassure him it would be alright but the damage to his pride was already done.

Once Koko’s hands were on your hips something in your gut told you that doom was imminent. He had lifted you with ease but as soon as your butt hit his shoulder, the man let out a loud whine. Somehow—someway, your zipper had gotten stuck on his silver hair. Thus, pulling it as he moved you.

“Ah! My hair! My hair!!” Koko’s desperate screams just got most of the group cracking up.

“Oh shut— ack!” You tried to stay as calm as possible, “I’m sorry!” Your eyes turned to the snickering bunch. “It’s not funny!” You held onto Koko’s head for dear life as Rindou and Sanzu avoided your gaze. The latter turned around to keep chuckling.

With his second sigh of the day, Takeomi walked towards you two, pulling Kakucho along.

“How is that this always happens to you two,” Takeomi said, trying to untangle your zipper from Koko’s hair as Kakucho steadied you on the silver-haired man’s shoulder.

After all was done, Kokonoi sat begrudgingly on the furthest sofa with a side of his long silver hair tangled in a thick mass. You smiled apologetically at him.

─────── · · ·

With a triumphant look, Rindou stood ready.

He was feeling confident after Kokonoi’s failure, but he might have gone a bit too hard… the moment he lifted you off the floor, you went flying towards the hanging lights. Thus, hitting you in the back of your head.

Everyone panicked meanwhile Mochi went for an ice pack.

It was chaos, as always—Kakucho to the rescue, he snatched you straight away from Rindou’s shoulder just in time to see Sanzu tackling the youngest Haitani. Then Ran and Takeomi began to scold the pair scuffling on the floor.

Even Mikey joined in, silently hitting Rindou in the same spot that the lamp had smacked you. Bonten’s leader walked away and kept mumbling words about how careless one could be. “An eye for an eye, Haitani.”

Just then, Mochi had walked back in to the room with an ice pack, but seeing the current situation he handed Takeomi the ice pack and went back to get a couple more.

─────── · · ·

After a prolonged discussion about safety, you suggested continuing outside which would have been fine if two people hadn’t begged you for a favor.

Ran was already smirking at you, ready to hoist you up and show the two previous failures how it was done.

And he did just that. At the count of three, you were already sitting on Ran’s shoulder. His grip was unwavering and the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster.

“Why do you always make it weird…” you mumbled once you saw Rindou visibly upset at his loss in this match.

“It’s not, though.” Ran pretended to flick a lint off his shirt, looking straight at the camera now.

It’s then that you remember the words from a certain pair—a pink and a silver head already signaling for you to take action. To keep the peace, both Haitani had to fail… miserably…

So with a deep breath, you loudly shouted something you knew Ran wouldn’t ignore. “Is that a bald spot?!” You even put a finger on his scalp to emphasize.

It happened so fast. One second you were in the air and the next you had been set down on the grass and the oldest Haitani went running to the nearest bathroom, Rindou not far behind. Not a words came out of anyone’s mouth. Meanwhile Sanzu and Koko gave you a thumbs up.

The peace had been kept. Your TikTok project began to feel more complicated than you thought it would be.

─────── · · ·

Nobody was worried about Mikey, they all knew he could easily pick you up, but Mother Nature had other plans.

“Stop laughing,” you grumbled, “it’s not that funny.”

“I’m sorry, sweetcheeks… it is…” Sanzu wheezed almost out of breath from laughing the whole day. “Mikey went straight for your pussy!”

Yes, when it was Mikey’s turn he had almost dropped you because a bee flew to his face and to his credit, he did catch you just as quick but the death-like grip went to your crotch. Which had you squealing and the clowns around you couldn’t stop laughing since then. Even Mochi and Takeomi had chuckled at the whole show.

“Haru, shut up!” You hissed, “Look! He’s sulking already!” At the sight of a brooding Mikey, everyone just went quiet. That sobered Snazu up real quick.

The Haitani brothers had just come back outside, but seeing the grey clouds on everyone’s heads they decided to slowly and carefully go back inside.

With Mikey not being in the mood anymore, the TikTok filming had to stop. Mochi and Sanzu were sad to not get a chance to try.

“Another day,” you weakly replied.

Takeomi felt a sense of relief. He wasn’t sure his back would agree today. He had lifted you before, but it was a gamble and with how everyone’s luck had been today? He didn’t wanna risk it.

─────── · · ·

Later that day, everyone was just sitting around the living room, back to where it all began. It was as normal as it could possibly get.

Most of them were on their phones, although you suspected some of them had the early videos on repeat. Sanzu and kept showing Mochi something and both just kept chuckling. Kokonoi kept checking something about the stock market and grumbling at his screen, angrily typing nonstop. Takeomi was doing the newspaper crossword puzzle and kept asking Ran some of the modern-day stuff he didn’t get. Kakucho had been in the kitchen for a while, and finally, Rindou and Mikey playing thumb fights.

Normalcy… how unusual.

“It’s actually nice… you know?” You interrupted the abnormal calmness surrounding you. “I’m in no way a flimsy thing and you all always move me around like I weigh nothing,” you voiced out your thoughts. You were laying on the couch, just thinking, truth spilling without meaning to, but alas it was out.

“The hell you mean?” Sanzu instantly snapped, throwing his phone to Mochizuki who barely had time to catch it. Bonten’s number two walked up to your resting spot and climbed on top of you. “I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean.”

“Haru…” Your wide eyes stared up at Sanzu, pink hair falling like curtains around your face.

His visceral reaction was like the spark that ignited the rest. Soon you heard the scraping sound of chairs being pulled. The lonely couch was now crowded with a bunch of angry men.

“Move,” Rindou growled as he pulled Sanzu away from you, almost throwing him off the couch. “What do you mean by that?” Now it was the youngest Haitani staring down at you with furrowed brows, and questioning your early statement. “Earlier? I almost sent you to a different fucking orbit.”

They all in their own way tried to make you understand��see what they see.

“Even Koko here can pick you up!” Ran added.

“Yeah,” Koko agreed but then realized the implications, “wait what are you trying to say?!”

Ah, this was more…normal… you giggled at the chaos that erupted around you. From the kitchen walked out Kakucho with a fresh baked bowl of cookies. Mikey didn’t have to be told twice, from the smell alone he knew what it was and took some for himself.

“Heard the commotion,” Kakucho sat next to your head on the couch, “how many times do we have to tell you that’s not important? You see us complain? No, right?” he didn’t let you answer as a cookie was already stuffed in your mouth.

“You have to see us fight to get even a second longer with you. That should tell you how much we want you,” Takeomi noted, pointing towards the Haitanis going against Sanzu and Koko a couple of feet away.

“This is why social media is hazardous,” Mochi announced, holding a cookie between his fingers.

“Body imag—” began Takeomi but he was cut short.

“It’s nothing. You’re just old.” Sanzu rebuked, interrupting his older brother just to spite him. forgotten was Rinodu who went to back up Ran.

The Akashi brothers continued on their intense debate, Mochi adding his opinion here and there as Kakucho kept feeding you and Mikey cookies.

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drowning-in-paragraphs · 7 months ago

Text

PLAYING DANGEROUS

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: tension, tension, tension... Maybe (a bit) toxic.

summary: After weeks of fighting over a campaign Jude worked on that sparked jealousy in you, your frustration grows as he dismisses your feelings. Fed up with being ignored, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. As expected, your boyfriend sees red—his control slipping as the night unfolds, and the tension between you two reaches its boiling point. But, of course, you are having so much fun.

Part 2: The end of the game (!)

The car ride was thick with an uncomfortable silence. Jude gripped the wheel, his jaw set, eyes fixed ahead. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, each sigh and subtle shift a quiet reminder of the tension simmering between you two. After all the back-and-forth arguments you’d had this week, you were both tired of hashing it out—but the hurt and resentment lingered.

You looked out the window, trying to lose yourself in the nightscape rushing by. The bright lights of the city blurred, but your mind was fixed on one image: that campaign photo. The one that had sparked this entire mess. Jude and a stunning model in a luxury campaign, his arm casually slung over her waist, their smiles too bright, too intimate. When you’d seen the ad, it had stung, but what has stung more was the behind the cameras videos. They had chemistry, and she was just as extroverted as him.

It hadn’t helped that when you’d brought it up to Jude, he brushed it off, rolling his eyes and calling you “dramatic” for making a big deal out of nothing. He’d practically laughed it off, leaving you feeling unheard and dismissed. That was the worst part: not just the jealousy, but the way he’d treated it as if it was meaningless.

“Can you not just sit there like I don’t exist?” Jude’s voice broke the silence, low but tight with irritation. “We’re going to this dinner. Can we just act like adults?”

You turned to him, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying the first sharp thing that came to mind. You’d been here before, and you were too tired of the fighting to start again.

“Jude, you know why we are in this situation,” you said quietly. “I just wanted you to take me seriously and acknowledge my feelings.”

“Acknowledge?” he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “All I’ve done this whole week is listen to you accuse me of something I didn’t do. It’s a campaign. That’s it. Nothing more.” He resisted the urge to say, "End of discussion," and focused on the road ahead instead.

“But you didn’t make me feel like it was nothing, Jude. You made me feel like… like I’m stupid for even bringing it up. You think I don’t know that it’s part of your job?” Your voice quivered, and you hated that you sounded so emotional.

Jude’s face softened for a moment, but then he hardened his expression again, as if not wanting to give in. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I thought you knew me better than that, honestly.”

There it was—another subtle jab. The conversation felt like a seesaw, tipping between blame and defense, never quite reaching a point of understanding. You crossed your arms, pressing yourself against the passenger door, feeling miles away from him, though he was just a few feet to your left.

“I just wanted to feel like you cared that I was upset. That’s all. Not for you to laugh it off like it was something stupid.”

He clenched his jaw, as if forcing himself not to retort. His hands tightened on the wheel again. “Look, I get it now. You don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I’ll do my job, you can stay mad at me, and we’ll just keep doing this every week.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and it hurt. “This is getting ridiculous...”

You two were tired of fighting, but something in you, something sharp and bruised, couldn’t let go of the last few days’ arguments. It wasn’t enough for him to be hurt. You wanted him to understand.

“Fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady but feeling anger prickle under your skin. “If it’s so ridiculous, then maybe I’ll make sure you get a taste of what that feels like. You’ll feel as ‘ridiculous’ as you’ve made me feel this week. We’ll see if it’s still a joke then.”

Jude’s head whipped toward you, a mix of shock and anger flashing across his face. “What? Are you serious right now?” His voice was tense, a low warning.

You felt a pang of guilt, but you held his gaze. “I just don’t think you’d understand it any other way.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. He stared back at the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The quiet between you was no longer uncomfortable but electric, charged with a bitterness that hadn’t been there before.

The car finally pulled up to the restaurant where you were supposed to meet your friends. The weight of what you’d just said hanging heavily between you. Jude cut the engine and just sat there, staring straight ahead, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. You didn´t move either, not knowing what was he going to do. After a beat, he climbed out, moving around to your door without a word. When he opened it, he didn’t look at you, just held the door and waited for you to step out.

You could see the tension in his posture, his usual warmth and confidence replaced by a coldness that made your heart ache. But you were both too proud, too angry, to say anything.

As you neared the entrance, Jude’s hand shot out, gripping your waist with a firm possessiveness. The touch wasn’t gentle or affectionate as usual; it was more of a declaration. Despite the anger simmering between you, he wasn’t about to let you carry out your threat to make him jealous. You tensed at his touch, your own anger rising as you felt him draw you in as if he could control you with a single motion.

Without thinking, you shrugged him off, shoving him away just enough to make your point. Jude halted, cursing under his breath, as he fought to keep his temper in check. The sharp click of the car lock sounded behind you as he pocketed the key, jaw clenched, but his eyes held yours for a moment. You both understood each other’s challenge, an unspoken line drawn that neither of you wanted to cross but couldn’t seem to avoid.

With your heads held high and expressions perfectly composed, you stepped into the restaurant, slipping on your masks of calm as you approached your friends. Your forced smiles and quiet greetings betrayed none of the tension between you, and you fell into the comfortable rhythm of small talk.

Back at the table, the spark of defiance inside you had turned into a full flame. Watching Jude as he laughed and charmed his way through conversations, acting as if your argument had never occurred, only fueled that fire. He didn´t get to act as if nothing happened. His face was relaxed, his posture easy—but you knew him well enough to sense the barely hidden tension in his movements, the occasional dart of his eyes toward you, checking, warning.

Fine, you thought. If he wanted to pretend everything was fine, you'd go along with it. In fact, you’d be the most composed person at the table. But where was the fun in that?

You turned your attention to the friend sitting beside you, leaning closer with an easy smile as you laughed at his stories. Your hand brushed against his as you reached for your drink, letting it linger just a second longer than usual. The warmth of his arm pressed lightly against yours as you angled your body toward him, giving him your full attention. Jude was watching, and you knew he was watching. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his mouth tighten, his easygoing demeanor slipping just a bit. His brows furrowed, and whatever his friend beside him was saying no longer seemed that interesting.

Good.

As the evening wore on, you let your laughter come a little too easily, smiling at your friend’s jokes, resting your hand briefly on his shoulder as you leaned in, your face just inches from his. Jude’s gaze was practically drilling into you, a dark intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, thrilling and defiant all at once.

You were loving it.

His hand came to rest on the table, fingers drumming an agitated beat, his knuckles white. At one point, he leaned forward to reach for his drink, and the subtle brush of his shoulder against yours sent a shiver down your spine. You caught his eyes, holding his gaze in challenge.

“You okay, baby?” you asked with a smile—the prettiest smile you could offer, eyes shining with a hint of mischief.

In response, his hand drifted under the table, finding your thigh and gripping it firmly. The heat of his palm burned through the silky fabric of your black dress, his fingers possessive, unapologetic. You swallowed, trying to focus on the conversation in front of you, but the pressure of his hand sent your pulse racing, a blend of anger and something far more dangerous surging through you.

Ignoring his grip, you shifted slightly and crossed your leg, pulling away just enough to let his hand slip, but not before his fingers tightened in a quick, heated squeeze. He didn’t let go; instead, he moved his hand further up, his fingers now grazing your upper thigh, daring you to push him away. You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, you leaned even closer to your friend, laughing softly as you let your hair fall forward, just brushing Jude’s arm in the process.

You could feel the heat of Jude’s glare on your skin, the simmering anger in every tense line of his body. You risked a quick glance his way, only to find him staring back at you with a look so intense, so darkly possessive, it was almost predatory. You'd seen this look before, but only when you had pushed him too far, ignited something in him he couldn’t control. It was a fire you both knew too well, one you had stirred with every challenge, every teasing word. And now, that fire was about to consume everything.

“Come on, keep pushing me, love.” He muttered sarcastically, each word perfectly pronounced, making sure you heard him loud and clear.

He lifted his glass, fingers curling possessively around the stem, and took a slow, deliberate sip, never once breaking his intense eye contact. As he set it down, his gaze trailed down to your lips, full and inviting, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, his eyes moved lower, lingering on the soft curve of your breasts, which you had purposefully exposed just enough to rile him up when he wasn’t looking. His stare lingered there, hungry, possessive, making your stomach tighten with a mix of anticipation and anger.

No. No. He didn't get to be in control. This time, you were the one leading. Why did he manage to make you so nervous with just a few touches and his confident smirk? It wasn't fair.

His hand drifted higher on your thigh, and you fought to keep your breath steady. The weight of his touch sent a rush of heat through you, but you refused to look his way, keeping your attention on the friend beside you. Due to all the bickering and pointless arguments, it had been far too long since you’d been close to each other. Now, his touch sent a butterflies to your stomach, its effect magnified—three times more intense than before. Jude’s fingers tensed, his grip growing firmer, sending a clear message, a silent warning. But you leaned in again, touching your friend as you laughed, your fingers trailing along his, knowing exactly how it looked.

Jude’s jaw clenched, his leg brushing firmly against yours under the table, his knee pressing against you with an undeniable possessiveness. His hand squeezed your thigh, almost painfully, and you knew he was at his limit.

So, you laughed again, but this time harder at your friend’s joke.

“Something funny?” Jude muttered in a low voice, his words quiet enough that only you could hear, laced with irritation and a hint of warning.

You turned to him, your expression innocent, even sweet. “He’s just hilarious,” you said with a slight, shy and cute smile, raising your glass and meeting his eyes in a silent challenge.

His gaze darkened further, his fingers moving in a slow, heated drag along the inside of your thigh, and for a brief second, you fought to keep your composure, refusing to let him see how much he was getting to you. His touch was a slow burn, each inch of contact sending a shiver through you that you tried to ignore.

Jude’s hand dropped back to the table, and for a moment, you thought he might finally let it go. But when you laughed again and casually complimented your friend with a teasing remark—something along the lines of, “You always look so good, I do not understand why are you still single,”— Jude’s expression darkened, his breath hitching slightly. He choked on his drink, fingers gripping the glass so tightly you half-expected it to shatter. You could practically feel the heat radiating from him, his control slipping just a little more with every word.

You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle a laugh. He set his glass down hard, his voice a rough whisper. “May I remind you that you are not the one who’s single?” he asked, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

You raised a brow, unfazed, and turned back to your friend. “Am I pushing it?” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, a sly smile playing on your lips. But just as you were about to rest your hand on your friend’s arm for the fifteenth time that night, you felt Jude’s hand slip over yours—this time grasping your wrist, his fingers rough and insistent, stopping you before you could touch another man.

“Do not, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice like steel, laced with something electric that sent a thrill up your spine.

Without a word, you twisted your hand free and crossed your legs again, your knee brushing his leg as you did. His fingers found your wrist again, pulling you closer this time, his lips near your ear as he muttered, “You think this is a game?”

The heat of his breath against your skin made your heart race, and you felt your pulse quicken as he held your gaze, daring you to keep this up. His fingers lingered on your wrist, and for a second, you wondered if he might actually kiss you right there, just to make his point, in front of everyone, as if he didn’t care who was watching.

God you wanted that. Like, a lot.

At last, as the evening wound down and you both stood to say goodbye, Jude didn’t let you slip away. His hand slid possessively around your waist, holding you close as you say goodbye to the group, his grip firm, almost punishing. Once outside, he pulled you aside, finally away from the prying eyes of your friends.

Without a word, Jude pushed you gently against the side of the car, his eyes blazing with frustration, anger, and something else you couldn’t quite name. He stepped in close, his hands framing your waist, pressing you against the cool metal. His breath brushed against your neck, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

“You think this was funny?” he asked, his fingers pressing into your hips, his gaze intense, unyielding.

You lifted your chin, holding his stare. “No,” you whispered, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I thought it was fair.”

Jude’s eyes darkened, and his grip tightened, his hands possessive, nearly desperate, as he pulled you even closer. The air between you was charged, tense, and thick with unspoken words. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against you, the warmth of his hands sending shivers through you.

“You’re being…,” you started, trying to keep a teasing smile in check, though your amusement slipped through. His anger was palpable; he glared at you with narrowed eyes, locking onto you with an intensity that was thrilling, even a little dangerous.

“Mmm, what was it?” you asked, pretending to struggle to remember the exact word that had lit the fuse in this absurd, yet undeniably thrilling standoff. You paused for effect, watching the way his jaw tightened. “Oh, right—dramatic.”

You knew that would push him right over the edge, and sure enough, he leaned in, his expression hardening as his gaze burned right into yours. You could almost feel the warmth of his breath, the faint scent of his cologne enveloping you, as if he were drawing you into his orbit. He hadn’t even said a word yet, but somehow, he had you on edge, just as he always did, effortlessly.

“But you know,” you added with a smirk, leaning up on tiptoe to press a playful kiss on his heated cheek, “I think it suits you.”

Then, with all the nonchalance you could muster, you turned on your heel, heading for the passenger seat as though nothing had happened. For a moment, he didn’t move; you could practically feel his stare following you. But then, before you could even open the door, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back to him, right back into that same charged position, his grip firm but unmistakably possessive. And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but let a thrill run down your spine.

“You have no idea what you just started,” he murmured, his voice thick with a dangerous promise, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

And as you looked up at him, feeling the heat, the thrill, and the tension swirl between you, you realized you didn’t regret a single thing.

Jude’s smirk deepened as he held you there, his grip possessive and firm, his gaze dark with intent. You could feel every inch of space crackling with tension, every breath laced with challenge and defiance. He wasn't letting you go, not after what you'd just put him through. And part of you didn't want him to.

“You think this is a joke,” he muttered smirking, his voice low and edged with a dangerous sort of amusement. His fingers traced along your arm, each touch purposeful, as if to prove just how much control he still held. You raised your chin, meeting his gaze with equal defiance, a small smile on your lips.

“I think it is a taste of your own medicine,” you replied, your voice soft but unyielding. He leaned in, his lips so close they brushed against yours as he spoke, sending a shiver straight through you. He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you.

“You’re going to regret this,” he murmured, his words a promise as his thumb skimmed along your jaw, tipping your face up to meet his.

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endless-ineffabilities · 10 months ago

Text

For His Eyes Only (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: credit goes to this genius anon! This one is set right before part 7, when they've just started their fwb arrangement. Again, no taglist for minishots. I trust that this will find you when it finds you <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Fabien hoped to comfort Ewan over his recent heartbreak with the reader, but soon discovers that things between them have taken an unexpected turn.

Fabien and Ewan slid into a booth at their usual pub, the ambient noise of clinking glasses and laughter surrounding them. The two lads were incidentally in the same part of town for respective meetings, and thought to meet afterward.

Fabien couldn't help but eye his friend with a mix of concern and curiosity. The last time they’d met, Ewan had been putting on a front, dismissive about his past involvement with you. But Fabien saw right through him.

“So, how’s it going, mate?” Fabien asked, trying to sound casual but clearly probing. “How’s it really going? I’ve been meaning to have a proper one-with-one with you, you know?"

Ewan, who had been looking unusually cheerful, took a long swig of his beer. “Yeah, I’m good. Really fucking good, actually.” The statement was loaded, and while it wasn't exactly insincere, Fabien could sense something lingering underneath.

Ewan’s upbeat demeanor felt too polished, too forced. Fabien asked, “Did you find some magical cure for heartbreak?”

Ewan’s lips curled into a mysterious smile. As he leaned forward to grab some peanuts from the table, he tilted his head slightly, revealing a conspicuous hickey on his neck. Fabien’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Well, well,” Fabien said, trying to suppress a grin. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”

Ewan caught on, freezing in place as if a deer in headlights. But he quickly rolled with it, his smirk widening, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and defiance. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Fabien leaned back, feigning shock. “So, did you find a new lady to help you get over things, or is this just a new accessory? Anyone I know?”

Ewan replied, “It’s not what you think. Things are a bit… complicated.”

“Complicated?” Fabien echoed, his curiosity piqued. “Like, how many people are we talking about?”

Ewan shrugged nonchalantly, but his smile betrayed a hint of pride. Or was that bitterness? “Let’s just say my lips are sealed.”

Fabien laughed, shaking his head. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging. I’m dying to know what’s really going on.”

Ewan just raised his glass. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”

As they clinked glasses, Fabien couldn’t help but marvel at how Ewan had managed to move on so quickly and intriguingly. Last time they met, in the pub with the other lads, Ewan could not conceal each flicker of emotion on his face when Fabien told him about meeting you. That glimmer of hope when Fabien hinted that you and Jacob didn’t seem like anything more than friends.

Whatever was happening in Ewan’s life, it was clear he wasn’t about to reveal all the juicy details just yet.

Ewan offered to buy another round, gesturing to the bartender while pulling out his wallet.

Fabien glanced down, his eyes catching on a familiar photo peeking out - a sweet, old picture of a younger Ewan with his nan. It made Fabien smile softly, but as Ewan fished around for his card, the photo flap flipped open a bit too far, revealing something else entirely.

Fabien blinked, doing a double-take as the new image came into focus. It was you. And not just any picture of you - oh no, this one was definitely… memorable. You were seated sideways to the lens, twisting provocatively to meet the camera’s gaze, your arms draped alluringly over your bare chest. A duvet, blessedly, thank the gods, covered your lower half, but the whole scene was just shy of being a full-on scandal.

Fabien’s mind raced between wanting to laugh and praying for divine intervention to erase what he’d just seen. “Uh, Ewan...” Fabien swallowed nervously, trying to find the right words to address the situation without making it even more awkward.

Ewan, still busy with his card, finally glanced up, noticing Fabien’s expression. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion before following Fabien’s gaze to the open wallet. The moment he realized what was on display, his eyes widened, and he snapped the wallet shut with an embarrassed exhale.

“Fuck's sake,” Ewan cursed, trying to play it off, though the pink tinge in his cheeks betrayed him. “Yeah, that’s, uh… a private moment.”

Fabien stifled a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Private? No kidding, mate. But aren't you holding on to the past?”

Ewan shot back with a protective edge to his voice. “Look, this is between me and…” He trailed off, giving Fabien a meaningful look. “And it’s not for public viewing.”

Fabien held up his hands in mock surrender, a grin still tugging at his lips. “Hey, your secret’s safe with me. But you might want to keep that flap under control, or you’ll give someone else a heart attack.”

Ewan rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Just… forget you saw anything. That view is for my eyes only.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m trying,” Fabien replied with a chuckle. Ewan’s reaction just about gave away the lone culprit for the fresh lovebite on his neck.

As they continued their conversation, Fabien couldn’t help but think that he was right all along - whatever was going on between Ewan and you, it was clearly more cherished than he’d realized.

“You better erase all trace of that picture from your brain,” Ewan smirked at some point later, humorously warning.

Fabien incredulously responded, “Mate, I have a girlfriend! Damn, I worry about the poor sod who will ever try to properly steal her from you.”

“So do I.”

Good ol' blast from the recent past! See you for part 9 💙

What did you think of Ewan's precious little picture? If you have more minishot ideas, let me know below!

#ewan mitchell #chemical override #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon

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hearts4chriss · 1 year ago

Text

Slice of Pizza.

Horny!Chris + Jake’s!little sister

prompt: your filming with ur brother Jake and the sturniolo triplets ur meeting for the first time, you and Chris had already been secretly talking behind their backs, he finally gets to meet you in person. After the videos over he offers to take you home and he can’t resist

Contains: public teasing, horny Chris, pet names (ma, mama, sweetheart??, baby, good girl, my girl, princess), m!oral receiving, unprotected sex ( wrap before u tap ), doggy , dirty talk, phat ass reader, creampie yktv

a/n- a lot of ppl wanted this one hope u like :)) ALL CREDS DUE TO ANYONE WHO INSPIRED ME ILYSM !! ( tags ran out )

fuck fuck fuck fuck

Today was the day.

My brother Jake and I were collaborating with the sturniolo triplets, and I was so so nervous.

The main reason is that I was talking too one of them, Chris sturniolo.

We’d been talking for a little over a month and I was actually gonna meet him, but the thing is.

His brothers and my older brother Jake have no idea we’ve been talking.

let alone how much of a freak he is, as well as I am.

We’ve sent each other, images and texts and said things but I was going insane over meeting this man.

I had decided to reach out to one of my brothers friends and ex Tara fucking yummy.

my baby💞🫂

Tara help me, yk how I’ve been talking to Chris?

I’m fucking meeting him tdy bc Jake and I are collabing w the triplets.

taraa💋

baby you’ll be okayyyy

he wants you so bad trust

Chris is gonna beg to fuck you js wait 😛😛

My cheeks grew a pink hue just thinking of that, it was obviously Chris is very attractive and I’d love to have him fuck the absolute shit out of me.

so there I sat in my room wearing this outfit praying too impress him.

A white mini skirt and a fitted skims crop tank pushing my tits up even more highlighting my figure as I threw a grey zip up over it.

I walked downstairs being greeted with my brother.

Finally, took all day. Jake rolled his eyes and I stuck my tongue out

shut up come on I wanna meet these kids. I chuckle and he raised an eyebrow at me but didn't utter a word as we hoped in the car and began driving too the location.

We got there pretty quickly and I thankfully hadn't seen a text from chris today which calmed my nerves, but it was until I saw him standing outside of my car along with matt and nick.

I quickly got out the car.

holy- shit. was all I could utter under my breath at the 3 same faced men.

Matt had tattoos which i'd always loved and he was fairly attractive.

Nick also had tattoos and he was absolutely adorable I could see us becoming close.

Chris.

The one of three i'd been "sexting" and oh my fuck he was so attractive.

He had a small stubble but not too much, his pink plump lips i'd been dying too kiss and lord the all grey- I could see his dick outline was he not wearing boxers??

wow kid ur short. Chris chuckled reaching in too give me a hug

hey baby, I finally get too meet your fine ass. He whispered low enough in my ear so I could feel a wetness grow in my panties seeping from my cunt.

Hey chris! we wanna hug her too! Nick rolled his eyes pulling me in for a hug.

ur so pretty holy shit- nick said softly and i smiled giving him a thank you.

Why am I last? Matt rolled his eyes playfully and I gave him a tighter hug than the rest.

Alright, can I have my sister back? My older brother basically emerged from his tesla and they all gave me a smile and we piled into the car as we pulled out foods from, McDonalds, a pizza place, Wendy's and more.

I sat in the passenger seat and Chris in the driver whilst nick matt and jake were in the back and he started the intro

“Hey guys welcome back to another video, this time I’m actually In my car, I’m joined by…”

Y/n Webber, the better sibling. I give the camera a wave and Jake rolls his eyes at me

“And also this collab was highly requested so…”

“Nick, Matt and Chris are with us today the sturniolo triplets!” As we all clapped for a bit.

"So today we are gonna be eating a bunch of our favourite foods and just talking and yeah that’s it!" I smiled.

"McDonald’s first?" Chris asked and everyone nodded as we each grabbed fries.

The video was super funny, Chris kept making me and everyone else laugh as well as nick and Matt attacking him it made the whole thing better. Until…

"Alright last thing?" I asked and everyone nodded

I opened the pizza box letting everyone grab a piece, I watched how Chris’s almost slipped so I helped him.

"They weren’t wrong, you are the clumsiest one". I let out a soft laugh and he rolled his eyes

"Yeah yeah". Chris chuckled and I held up the pizza for him as he looked me in the eyes, god I felt something. As he shook his head slowly trying to get a bite he managed to do so after about 7 seconds.

"Is it good bro? "Matt asked him and I let out a laugh as well as nick and my brother

"Shut up Matt". Chris spoke in a monotone and everyone laughed at that as if he wasn’t just fucking teasing me, so I decided to get him back.

"Guys it’s kinda hot-" I say unzipping my jacket Chris’s eyes follow my hand on the zipper

"Right I was gonna say".. Nick chuckles eating his pizza.

I take off my hoodie leaving my tank top as is my tits sitting perfectly upright and I noticed Chris’s eyes and I smirked continuing to eat my pizza occasionally licking the grease off my fingers looking him in the eyes.

Paybacks a bitch huh

little did I know, Chris was a fucking freak

"what did you say too my brother to even allow me to be alone with you". I let out a laugh and he chuckled pulling me onto the couch.

"Im good with words baby. He gave me a small wink before pulling me onto his lap for a kiss".

"Mmm this was well worth the wait". Chris mumbles in between kisses before grabbing my ass making me gasp as he slipped his tongue into my mouth as they played together.

He moved me on his lap, groaning as my clit rubbed on his growing boner.

"Fuck- I need ur mouth so bad" - Chris rested his head on my shoulder before tapping my ass signaling me to get up.

I got on my knees and leaned up pulling down his sweatpants along with his boxers watching his cock spring out and my eyes grow wide.

The length of it wasn’t even describable, let alone the girth, the tip was a dark pink and the veins going up the side had my panties dripping.

"you gonna suck me off or keep staring because I love the sight baby". Chris smirked biting his lip down at me and I wrap my hand around him and he moaned softly.

"baby.. please I need you- been waiting so long for you to do this" - he pleaded, almost in a whiny voice of need for me and I’d been waiting to do this.

I kiss his tip first before spitting on his cock stroking him and he throws his head back on the couch cushion.

I wrap my lips around his cock hollowing my cheeks as I began to suck him off sloppily and his hand gravitated towards my hair.

"oh fuck- just like that" - he moaned softly his eyes fluttering shut his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved as he felt my plump lips wrap around him beginning to deep throat his dick

"oh shit ma- feels so fuckin good" - he shudders on his words as his eyes open looking down at me sucking his cock, the sound of my gagging on him were enough to make him squirm, Chris’s large hand on my head guiding me while running it in my hair.

Sucking Chris off was an experience I’d never forget and the fact I was making him feel so good whilst doing it only made my thighs clench together with anticipation, needing his cock buried inside me.

his hips occasionally thrusting allowing his tip to hit the back of my throat aggressively knowing I’d be sore tomorrow.

"F-fuckk love that pretty mouth on my dick" - he shudders when my nose presses against his lower abdomen as I deep-throat him having to hollow my cheeks due to his size.

Chris always told me he loved sloppy head and that’s exactly what I was giving him, salvia and his pre cum was running down my chin whilst spit bubbles formed on the corners of my mouth and my mascara was sweating off from the tears in my eyes.

"God you look so fucking pretty sucking me off baby" - he praised, breaths in between each word pulling on my hair slightly tighter as we made eye contact and he moaned at the sight.

"there’s my girl, keep ur eyes on me, wanna see that pretty face- shit" - Chris tried to maintain eye contact with me as best he could, but the way I was looking at him alone made him cum deep in my mouth filling it to the brim and a deep moan as he came.

Chris’s cum smeared along my lips as I swallowed it and getting up off my knees and he smiled.

"C’mere, I gotta stretch you out". Chris’s fingers pressed against my panties and I moaned softly at the touch and he chuckled.

"Hold on baby, you’ll thank me later, trust me". He smirked sliding two of his fingers inside my sopping cunt making me squeal.

"Shit Chris" - I moaned as he held me by my waist on his lap stretching me out for a bit.

"hold on ma, I don’t want you to get hurt". He kissed my cheek curling his fingers making me moan in his ear.

"You feel stretched out?" He rubs my back and I nodded

"I need words princess". Chris spanked my ass and I jolted.

"Yes yes! I do, please Chris- please fuck me" - I beg and he halts his movements sliding his fingers out of me.

"On all 4s for me and strip". He taps my ass and I do so getting on the couch pealing my panties and skirt off along with my tank top allowing me to be bare for him.

"Your so beautiful, gonna fuck this pussy so good" - he pulled his sweats down fully positioning himself behind me rubbing his cock between my folds making me whimper with frustration and his hand came down smacking my ass.

"Patience baby, such a needy girl". Chris shakes his head before gripping my hips pushing himself inside me making my back arch at the girth and sudden sharp pain from the stretch.

"Chris I-it’s not gonna fit" - I cry out and he massages my hip reassuringly.

"shh it’s okay just tell me when, take ur time". He whispered, I took some deep breaths as I felt my body finally adjust to him.

"Y-you can move now" - I sigh deeply and he holds my hips beginning to thrust slowly at first.

"Oh fuck- m’faster" - I moan peering behind my shoulder and he gives me a sly smile before picking up the paste making my jaw hang open as his hips came in contact harshly with my ass.

"shit- ur so tight ma" - Chris groaned his hands grip my ass occasionally letting go to give it a slap rubbing over the soft skin.

"oh god- ur so deep Chris" - i drop my head breathing heavily before he grips my hair thrusting harder.

"huh? I wanna hear that again". He holds his grip firmly waiting for me to respond as I’m dazed out on his cock.

"f-fuck! Your so- deep" - I moan in between words shuddering in his grasp as he releases his grip from my hair gravitating towards my hips again.

"that’s a good girl" - Chris praised rutting his hips into mine, the sound of our bodies connecting and my moans and heavy breathing along with his filled the empty room creating a sex aroma

"shit Chriss" - I dragged out moaning as he arched my back making his cock reach depths I don’t think we’re possible before he paused.

"W-what are you doing?!" I whimper in frustration and he shushed me.

"I wanna watch you fuck yourself on my cock can you do that for me?" He whispers into my neck, tickling my skin, his raspy voice going to my core.

I positioned myself on my forearms arching my back beginning to move my hips back and forth on his dick and he moaned in response holding my hip for comfort.

"fuck- keep throwing that shit back on me ma" - Chris shuddered, biting his lip at the sight, my moans shooting to his throbbing cock as well as my moans fueling his ego and filling his ears

"fuckk yes- feels so good- I cried out". clenching my fists at the pleasure and the angle his dick was hitting, the tip feeling on my g spot made me shake each time.

Chris was in heaven, just the sight of this could've made him cum inside me.

"shit- there you go baby- love that ass" - he lets out a deep groan laying a smack across my cheeks making me squeal as he rubs over the soft skin as I continued fucking myself on his cock, picking up the pace, our breathing syncing picking up.

"oh shitt- yes yess!" I squirm and shake ever so slightly as his tip kisses my most sensitive spot.

"Looks like I found it". He mumbles to himself before grabbing my hips beginning to thrust his own into mine making my jaw hang open whilst only heavy breathing comes out

"shit- fucked you speechless?" He lets out a breathy moan and I can’t help but mimick his actions because he quite literally fucked me speechless.

"God you take me so well" - sound so pretty on my cock- he lays a harsh smack to my ass making me squeal out as I close my walls around him.

"Chris I-I’m gonna cum" - I turn my head to the side seeing his facial expression as my breath picks up fists clenched as his hand rubs my clit.

"come on baby give it to me" - he praises his fingers play with my pussy overstimulating it as I cried out Chris’s name repeatedly until I creamed his cock.

He pulls out painting white ropes on my back giving me a second to catch my breath.

"You okay?" Chris pants pulling me onto his lap.

"yeah I’m okay- that was- well worth it". I smile pushing the hair sticking to his forehead away.

All over a slice of pizza huh.

Shut up Chris. I roll my eyes as he presses kisses to my shoulder

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vicsguitarr @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris @hysteria-things

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #hearts4chriss #neveahandchris4life

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kathlare · 1 month ago

Text

accidental introductions

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: A simple evening takes an unexpected turn when a FaceTime call leads to an unplanned introduction between Amelie and someone very important in Lando’s life.

Wordcount: 2.3 k

Warnings: use of substances

full masterlist // request over here!

April 25th, 2020 - London, United Kingdom

The kitchen smelled like rosemary and garlic and something else that was probably burning, but neither Lando nor his mum seemed all that bothered.

—You’re supposed to stir it, not mash it,— Cisca teased, elbowing her son gently as she took the wooden spoon from his hand. —You’re ruining the risotto, chef boyardee.—

—I'm doing my best,— Lando whined, dramatically wiping invisible sweat from his brow. —You didn’t tell me this was gonna be so intense. I feel like I’m on MasterChef—

—And you’d be the first one kicked out,— she smirked.

Lando grinned, rolled his eyes, and turned to wash his hands. —Be right back. I need the bathroom.—

He disappeared upstairs, leaving his phone on the counter beside the stove, unlocked.

Not even thirty seconds later, the screen lit up with a familiar contact photo: Amelie’s name, with a tiny Mexican flag and a cherry emoji, danced across the screen as the FaceTime call came through.

Cisca glanced at it, then at the stairs.

Rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

—Oh for heaven’s sake,— she muttered, wiping her hands on a tea towel before tapping the green button and holding the phone up. —Hello?—

The image that appeared made her blink.

A girl, beautiful, messy-haired, wearing a black hoodie way too big for her, squinted at the screen, clearly not expecting this face. Her brows furrowed before her mouth parted slightly.

—Oh… oh shit.—

—You must be Amelie,— Cisca said with a warm smile, already amused. —Hi, love. I’m Lando’s mum. I think he ran away from the kitchen before he could burn anything else.—

Amelie blinked, frozen in place like someone had hit pause on her entire existence.

—You’re… you’re his mum?— she repeated, eyes wide. Her voice jumped half an octave. —Oh my god, hi! I didn’t... I didn’t mean to... shit. I mean. Sorry. Hi. I didn’t know he wasn’t gonna answer.—

Cisca laughed, the kind of laugh that made you want to be friends with her immediately. —It’s alright, darling. I’ve heard your voice coming out of that phone so many times, I feel like I already know you.—

Amelie looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a very charming British Range Rover.

—He talks about me?— she asked before she could stop herself, her voice too hopeful, too curious. Her brain immediately screamed at her to shut the fuck up, but it was too late. Words were out. The damage was done.

Cisca raised an eyebrow, clearly clocking that exact tone. —Not in so many words,— she teased, stirring the risotto again with one hand, —but he smiles at his phone like an idiot when he’s talking to you, so I’ve put the pieces together.—

Amelie groaned and let her head drop into her hands. —Okay, I’m logging off forever. Tell Lando he can find another gaming buddy. Or a funeral livestream.—

—Oh, don’t be silly,— Cisca chuckled. —I like hearing him laugh. There aren’t many people who get him out of that little brooding cloud he likes to live in. You’re good for him.—

Amelie peeked up through her fingers, cheeks fully pink now. —I’m not… I mean, I just... we’re just friends.—

Cisca gave a sly smile. Uh huh. Sure.

The camera shifted a bit as she walked over to the stove and gave the risotto a final stir. Amelie could now see the cozy kitchen in full—warm wood cabinets, vintage tea tins stacked by the window, a spice rack that clearly got used—it all felt like a real home. The kind you actually missed when you were away.

The sound of feet bounding down the stairs broke the moment.

—Did I miss something?— Lando called, and then paused as he stepped into the kitchen. His eyes landed on his mum holding his phone, then on the screen.

He blinked. —Wait, are you... did you answer my FaceTime?!—

—She’s lovely, by the way,— Cisca said, completely ignoring him as she handed over the phone like nothing had happened.

Lando looked from her to the screen and back. —Mum! You can’t just... Jesus.—

Amelie was still recovering, trying very hard to look casual as if she hadn’t just been mid–existential crisis. —Hey, chef boyardee. Your mum’s iconic.—

He groaned and covered his face with one hand. —I’m never leaving my phone unattended again.—

—Probably smart,— Amelie teased, regaining her usual confidence now that the shock had passed. —Your mum just called me “good for you.” What are you gonna do about that, huh?—

Lando turned roughly the shade of a strawberry. —I’m gonna pretend that didn’t happen and continue burning dinner. Cool? Cool.—

Cisca, of course, wasn’t done. —You know, Amelie, if you ever fancy some actual food and not whatever abomination he microwaves for himself most days, you’re welcome here anytime.—

—Mum!— Lando hissed, completely scandalized. —You're literally inviting a girl I game with across the ocean in the middle of a pandemic.—

—Well, if she ever does end up in London, don’t be an idiot and make her stay in a hotel,— Cisca said, winking at the screen. —She can have the guest room. The good one, not the one that smells like damp towels.—

—Is this a British mum thing?— Amelie deadpanned. —Because my mum would interrogate anyone who so much as looked at me too long.—

—Oh, don’t worry, darling. That’s just the second meeting.—

Lando practically faceplanted against the counter. —This is a nightmare.—

—You’re welcome, sweetheart,— Cisca sang, and then turned away like she hadn't just completely rearranged her son’s emotional equilibrium.

Amelie bit her lip, trying hard not to grin too much. Her heart was hammering way harder than it should have been. She met his mum. By accident. And his mum liked her. That shouldn’t have meant anything. They were just friends. Just friends.

So why did it feel like a door had been kicked wide open?

She watched Lando glance at her again, his cheeks still flushed, but his eyes soft. He looked completely knocked off balance.

And for a second—just a second—Amelie wondered what it would be like to not run from that idea.

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

liked by charleslemonade, lanmelieupdates, and others

twitchquintetdaily: 🚨 THEY’RE LIVE 🚨 Amelie, Charles & Lando just went live playing Fortnite and the chaos is already off the charts 😭 catch them third-wheeling each other in real time rn 🕹️🍿 twitch.tv/landonorris 🎧💅

View all 22,009 comments

f1streamshenanigans: Lando yelling “BABE REVIVE ME” and Charles just watching him die is cinema → daymaniac4life: @f1streamshenanigans I SWEAR he forgets we can hear him 😭 → lanmeliecore: @f1streamshenanigans “babe” ??? be serious rn → fraudnando: @f1streamshenanigans that was a jump scare and a proposal in one breath

charleslemonade: Charles trying to build and just spinning in a circle is the reason I believe in God → amelieonscreen: @charleslemonade he really plays like someone’s dad at an arcade → quintetchaos: @charleslemonade Amelie: carrying the whole team

lanmelieupdates: the way Lando keeps asking if she’s “got heals” like he’s not fully blushing → maxiewrld: @lanmelieupdates mans is down BAD on main and on twitch

fortnitelando: Charles saying “I feel like a chaperone” is the most accurate commentary of the night → camillesburner: @fortnitelando he’s the only thing keeping this from becoming a romcom speedrun → streammama: @fortnitelando and he’s failing. they’re one flirting session away from eloping on mic.

lanmeliefan72: Lando pretending he’s not obsessed with her while missing every shot is SO FUNNY → fortnitegf: @lanmelifan72 bro’s aim gets worse the closer Amelie’s avatar gets 😭😭

charleslemonade: Charles is 100% third-wheeling and knows it

ameliesbangs: why does Amelie trash talk like she’s in a 2004 CoD lobby 😭 → vroomygirlie: @ameliesbangs she called Lando a “pink helmeted liability” and I haven’t recovered

twitchgirly999: Charles every 2 seconds: “GUYS? where are you?” → scuderiacore: @twitchgirly999 literally the forgotten middle child of the squad rn 💀 → chilis4lyf: @twitchgirly999 justice for charles but also this is hilarious

ameliesburnbook: they’ve been live for 10 mins and Lando’s already offered her a medkit and all his dignity → charleslemonade: @ameliesburnbook he’s practically on one knee with a chug jug

lanmelieupdates: Lando: “wait don’t push yet, Amelie’s still looting” …she’s got him TRAINED → ghostedbygasly: @lanmelieupdates soft launch speedrun

alexisbored: she made fun of his aim and he giggled. i’m gonna go lie down → fernsandfriends: @alexisbored why is he BLUSHING through a headset

gaslysrevenge: charles third wheeling with grace, like a true gentleman → tifosithotwife: @gaslyrevenge he’s been through it before. he knows the signs 💀

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

After two hours of failing spectacularly at Fortnite, Amelie was certain the universe was punishing her. The stream had been chaos: Charles kept blowing himself up with rockets, Lando was giggling more than shooting, and Amelie, well… she’d mostly been too distracted. The chat had loved it—clips were already going viral of her mock-raging at Charles in dramatic Spanish while Lando wheezed in the background—but the moment she clicked end stream, the silence in her house returned like a tide.

She sighed, pushing back from her desk chair. The light from her dual monitors flickered once, then dimmed into standby as she stretched, spine cracking from hours of bad posture. Her hair was a mess, her hoodie half-on, and her knees were cold. Classic gaming aftermath.

In the bathroom, the shower hissed to life, and she let herself stand under the hot water longer than usual. Let it sting a little. Let it soak through the ache in her chest—the kind that never fully left. Not since him. Not since Cameron.

But this wasn’t a bad day, not really. Just… a soft one. A quiet kind of ache. She could feel it in her bones, and apparently, so could Björn.

When she stepped back into the living room wrapped in a towel and her old Mariah Carey shirt, she found the usually aloof cat curled on her blanket nest, tail flicking softly, yellow eyes watching her with more attention than usual.

—Okay, now you want to hang out?— she asked, padding barefoot across the hardwood and collapsing onto the couch beside him. He didn’t bolt. Instead, Björn stretched—long and lazy—and allowed her to scratch behind his ears.

It was strange. He’d been distant all week. Moody, almost. And now here he was, purring like an old car engine.

She settled into the cushions, tugging the blanket around her legs and reaching for her phone to order food. Thai, maybe. Or sushi. Or both. Screw it—she was hungry, and emotionally delicate enough to justify a feast.

As she scrolled through delivery apps, Björn shifted again, pressing the full weight of his body into her thigh like a little heater. His purring deepened. She raised an eyebrow at him.

—You okay, buddy? You’re not usually this clingy.—

He blinked slowly up at her and bumped his head against her arm. She sighed, her chest tightening for no good reason, and kissed the top of his head.

—Yeah. Me neither.—

She placed the order—pad see ew, tuna nigiri, spring rolls—and set the phone aside. A movie would help. Something easy. Familiar. Howl’s Moving Castle was already in her continue-watching queue, so she hit play and pulled Björn closer. The opening credits rolled, music soft and glittering through the speakers, and for a while, she let it wash over her. No pressure. No expectations. Just her, a weirdly affectionate cat, and Studio Ghibli.

Her phone buzzed once. Then again.

She blinked, leaned forward, and saw the name lighting up the screen.

Lan

She didn’t hesitate this time. She swiped to answer and lifted the phone to her ear, voice still a little soft from the mood.

—Hey.—

His voice came back warm and easy. —Hey, Ames. You okay?—

Her eyes flicked to the TV, then to Björn still purring against her side. She hesitated a second too long.

—Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.—

A pause.

—Bad day?— he asked gently.

She smiled a little, eyes dropping to the blanket tangled around her legs. —Not bad. Just… you know. Soft. Missing people. That kind of thing.—

He didn’t fill the silence right away, and she was glad. Sometimes the right kind of company was the kind that didn’t rush in with solutions. Just let it sit.

—My mum thinks you're lovely, by the way,— he said finally, and she could hear the tiny grin in his voice.

Amelie groaned, flopping back against the cushions. —Oh my god. Are we still talking about that? I’ve never been more humiliated in my life.—

—You were humiliated? She called me Chef Boyardee in front of you. I’ll never recover.—

She laughed. The first real one of the day. —You kind of deserved it, though. That risotto looked like baby food.—

—Excuse me. That was a brave artistic take on Italian cuisine.—

—That was a war crime.—

He chuckled. Then, a beat later, —I’m glad you called. Even if you ended up talking to my mum.—

Amelie traced a finger through Björn’s fur. Her chest didn’t feel quite as tight anymore. —I didn’t mean to. I just… wanted to hear your voice, I guess. That sounds lame. Never mind.—

—It’s not lame. I like when you call. Even when you’re yelling at Charles in three languages.—

Her heart did that annoying thing where it squeezed and fluttered and pulled all at once. She swallowed, the quiet of the living room somehow louder than it had been.

—You always call at the right time,— she murmured.

—Yeah?—

—Yeah.—

Another pause, but this one felt warm. Intentional.

Then Lando’s voice, soft and low and maybe a little shy: —Do you want to fall asleep on the phone again tonight? I can stay on while you eat, if you want. Or just… be there.—

She blinked, surprised by the sudden sting behind her eyes.

—Yeah,— she whispered. —I’d like that.—

—Okay. Good. I’ll stay.—

Björn shifted again, curling even closer.

On the screen, Howl floated down from the sky, Sophie’s hand in his.

And for the first time all day, Amelie didn’t feel quite so alone.

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rye-kin · 4 months ago

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Sick awesome Jekyll and Hyde illustrations by Gary Kelley

It’s been a while since I shared some illustrations! (Leik 2+ years…) BUT! Ive been meaning to collect and share these because they are irritatingly hard to find…and lowkey! One of my favorite styles I’ve seen Jekyll and hyde illustrated in.

I really like that first one in particular, (which was the first one I’ve ever found) the gesture is great and I just had it rotting in my camera roll for the longest time until I rediscovered his work <\3!

BUT FR… I literally had to use tiny eye to retrace the image because I lost the artist, it was embarrassing. Anyhow, I dug these up from his Instagram and website, but they do not seem available anywhere else. Not even a printed edition of wherever these are from! a bit unfortunate but oh well vro…

I also just genuinely enjoy his art sm…

Link to his gallery, as he’s selling the original of the first and has some more artworks for those who r into art

#ronnie chats #jekyll and hyde

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loulou-land · 5 months ago

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5 Times Buck Realized He Could Be Clingy + 1 Time Tommy was the Clingy One

Day 4 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Clingy Boyfriends | 4,076 words

(1) Before a Shift

Mornings like these were always the hardest for Buck.

After days spent together—wrapped up in each other, tucked away from the world—it was too easy to get used to having Tommy there. Waking up beside him, getting to roll over to steal lazy kisses, lingering in bed until the sun had well and truly come up. Then, moving to the kitchen, sharing warm coffee, leaning into each other's spaces as they made breakfast, coming up with half-baked plans for the day that they may or may not follow through on.

Buck had done a bit of the domesticity thing with Taylor, but it wasn’t anywhere close to what this was. He had never felt as comfortable as he did with Tommy. And the most incredible part? How seamlessly they had fallen into it, without a second thought.

But eventually, reality came knocking.

And Buck hated it.

The soft glow of their cozy bubble would be ripped away by ringing alarms and the harsh reality of shifts that wouldn't align for a while. And today, it was Tommy’s turn to leave for a shift while Buck still had the rest of the day off.

Buck tried to be normal about it. He really did.

Continue Reading Below or on ao3

He'd stayed curled up in bed, watching as Tommy moved through his morning routine—brushing his teeth while Buck sleepily watched from the pillow; buttoning up his uniform with practiced ease, Buck following the movement of his hands spellbound; sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots, just within his reach.

Okay, time to be cool. Rein it in, Buck thought. Wish him a good day and go back to sleep.

Instead, before Tommy could make a move to stand, Buck latched on.

Nothing dramatic—just a small tug at the fabric of Tommy’s shirt—just enough to stall him.

Tommy huffed out a quiet laugh, and Buck immediately backtracked.

“ Sorry ,” Buck laughed, sheepish. “Just…fixing your shirt. All good now.”

It was pathetic, but his fingers still didn’t let go.

Tommy hummed, turning slightly, looking at him consideringly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

And Buck…he definitely should've let go by now. He didn't want to make Tommy late. Instead, his finger tightened in the fabric, just slightly.

Tommy noticed. He always noticed.

But he didn't call him out on his dramatics. Didn't tease him. He just reached down, cupped the side of Buck’s face, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, right over his birthmark.

“I'll text you between calls.” Tommy promised.

Buck swallowed down the lump in his throat, forcing himself to nod. “ Be safe .”

Tommy kissed him again, slower this time—lingering, reassuring—before heading for the door.

A little while later, Buck decided to brave the day. He had barely finished pouring his coffee when his phone buzzed.

8:55 am

Tommy: Lucy brought donuts today :) (attached image: Tommy biting into a glazed donut, blue eyes sparkling happily)

Buck huffed out a startled laugh, shaking his head at his boyfriend's massive sweet tooth.

Buck: Looks delicious. But not as delicious as the man holding it ;)

Tommy: Evan…behave 😤

And that was only the beginning.

9:47am

Tommy: you have competition, look at how adorable he is (attached image: a orange tabby stretched out on the concrete taking a nap)

Buck: I’m more adorable tho 🥺 right?

Buck: Tommy??

Buck: right?!!

10:05 am

Buck: I just watched that new documentary on black holes.

Buck: Did you know a black hole could fit in your pocket? 🤯

Tommy: That must be why I’m always losing stuff after I’ve put them in my pockets…

Buck: dork 🙄

Tommy: only for you ❤️

10:58am

Tommy: I’m going to kill the newbie

Buck: why?

Buck: please don’t. I need you here, not in jail.

Tommy: he keeps using my coffee mug 😑

Buck: wow, brave man…

11:05 am

Buck: (attached image: Buck in front of the mirror, wearing form fitting workout clothes and smirking into the camera)

Tommy: Baby 😍

Tommy: You don’t play fair. But two can play this game

Tommy: (attached image: Tommy wearing aviator glasses, smiling smugly, sitting in the cockpit of the helicopter)

Buck: …you win 🥵

They continued texting every moment they could throughout the day. Tommy telling him about an interesting call they'd gotten about a naked hiker stuck up in a tree, how he regretted asking the guy how it happened, how Lucy kept teasing him for texting so much and how he couldn’t wait to see him again.

Buck loved it.

And somewhere in the back and forth of messages, Buck realized something.

Tommy really was unlike anyone he'd ever met.

Because Tommy didn't just tolerate Buck’s need to share every thought, every feeling, every random little moment—he truly wanted it.

(2) Holding Hands

Buck was a touchy person.

But it wasn't something he'd ever really thought about—until he started dating tommy.

Because now, whenever they were on a date, every time they were out together, Buck found himself hyper-aware of the way their shoulders brushed as they walked side by side. The way Tommy’s warmth bled into him, a steady presence, grounding, there.

Buck relished it. Enjoyed being close to Tommy.

But what he really loved?

Holding Tommy’s hand.

There was something addicting about the feeling of it—calloused and strong, big enough to make Buck’s fingers feel almost small in comparison. It was ridiculous how much he liked that, how obsessed he was with the way his hand fit so perfectly in Tommy’s.

It had been a revelation the first time it happened. They were walking through a farmer’s market on a lazy Sunday morning, sipping coffee and browsing fresh produce. Buck had been excitedly telling Tommy about the health benefits of squash while Tommy listened intently. It had been natural, the way Buck’s hand had found Tommy’s—automatic, easy, just right.

And then he’d looked down at them. At their fingers interlaced together, Tommy’s grip was firm and warm. Confident and sure.

Buck hadn't meant to stare at them, completely oblivious to the world around him. But he was amazed at how perfect it felt, like a puzzle piece finally slotting into place. Then Tommy squeezed his hand, and Buck had looked up—face flushing, embarrassed at being caught.

Without a word, Tommy lifted their joined hands and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Buck’s hand.

Buck tripped.

It was just a small misstep, but Tommy definitely spotted it.

“You good, Evan?” Tommy said grinning.

“Yeah. Totally. That wasn't—” Buck stammered, clearing his throat. “Just, uh, uneven pavement.”

Tommy smirked. “Mhm,”

Buck glared at him, but it was hard to look indignant when his heart was currently doing flips inside his chest.

That moment had opened the floodgates.

After that Buck would reach for Tommy’s hand without even thinking about it. His fingers sliding between Tommy’s, intertwining, squeezing just slightly. Holding on for as long as he could.

If Tommy needed to open a door, reach for something or take out his wallet Buck would relinquish his hold for a few seconds before immediately latching on again.

Tommy always smiled, a small little pleased thing.

So Buck kept doing it. He reached for him when walking together. When they were waiting in line for coffee. In the car, driving to places. While out at the bar with their family and friends. At home, snuggling on the couch or laying in bed.

And every time, Tommy let him.

No teasing. No hesitation.

Just a gentle squeeze back, like he never wanted to let go either.

(3) After a Bad Call

Some shifts turned out bad.

Buck had accepted that a long time ago.

But knowing it didn’t make it any easier.

It didn’t make it easier when a call went south, when a victim slipped away no matter how hard they tried. It didn’t make it easier when he could still hear the sounds of screaming or see the way that life slipped through his fingers.

It didn’t make it easier when the self-doubt crept in, making its home in him, when his chest tightened with the weight of it all, when the voices whispered in his ear—you should’ve done more, you should’ve been better, you should’ve saved them.

Sometimes, those voices sounded exactly like his parents.

Other times, it was just his own.

And on those nights, Buck needed something solid. He craved something warm. Something that told him he was still here. That he still mattered.

But asking for comfort had never been easy for him. Especially when Buck felt like he didn’t deserve it. When he felt like he was making things once again all about himself.

So when he walked through the door, carrying the weight of that night’s failure, he didn’t say anything.

Buck dropped his keys on the counter. Stood with his hands flat on it as he stared unseeing at the grainy dots of the countertop. Then he rubbed a hand over his face like that would somehow scrub the frustration off of him.

Buck tensed when he felt strong arms circle his waist and got pulled into a steady chest. He matched his breathing to Tommy’s and felt himself slowly relaxing and letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders.

It helped that Tommy didn’t ask.

He just took one look at Buck and knew.

Knew what Buck needed, even if he couldn’t say it.

“C’mere .”

Buck didn’t even hesitate.

He turned around and let himself be pulled in, let himself be wrapped up in Tommy’s arms.

And for a while, he just stood there, breathing Tommy in, grounding himself in the warmth of his chest, not thinking about anything other than Tommy Tommy Tommy .

Eventually, Tommy kissed his temple, then nudged him toward the bathroom.

“Hot shower first. Then I’ve got you.”

And Buck froze for a second, completely amazed at the concept that someone had him.

After the shower, Buck found his favorite sweatpants and hoodie waiting for him. The ones that were soft and well-worn, the ones that felt safe. The ones he’d hide in when he was feeling particularly raw and bereft. His heart picked up speed at the thought that Tommy had picked up on that. Had remembered.

There was a cup of soothing tea on the nightstand.

But most importantly?

There was Tommy.

Sitting on the bed, waiting with open arms, like he already knew exactly where Buck needed to be.

Buck didn’t fight it anymore.

He climbed into bed, curled into Tommy’s chest, let himself feel it— the warmth, the comfort, the weight of arms holding him together when he felt like he was falling apart at the seams.

Tommy didn’t say anything, just rubbed slow circles into his back, a steady touch that anchored him, that reminded him he was here.

At some point, Buck let the pain in him crack open.

He exhaled shakily, pressed his face into Tommy’s neck, wrapped his fingers in his shirt and let himself cry.

And Tommy just held him.

Didn’t judge him, didn’t rush him, didn’t tell him to pull himself together, didn’t make him feel any less for showing emotions, didn’t say it was fine because it wasn’t.

Tommy just held on tighter to Buck.

And when Buck’s breathing evened out, when the exhaustion started creeping in, Tommy finally spoke—low, soft, certain.

“You did everything you could, baby.”

“You’re a damn good firefighter, Evan.”

“I’ve got you. I’m here.”

And Buck—warm and safe, pressed against the only person who had ever made him feel like he could just be, that he didn’t have to hold it all in—let himself believe it.

(4) In Public

Buck had never really been big on PDA.

Not because he was uncomfortable with it—he just hadn’t really been the type. With past partners, he’d hold hands, drape an arm around their shoulder, maybe rest a hand on their lower back. A quick kiss on the cheeks or lips. But that was it.

With Tommy, it was different. He just— wanted. All the time.

It was like some switch had flipped in his brain. Like his body just instinctively sought Tommy out. Tommy was Earth, and Buck was his moon, caught in his orbit.

He couldn’t help it.

Wherever they were, Buck was aware of him.

Tommy could be across the room, deep in conversation with Bobby, or standing at the truck joking around with Eddie, and Buck would still know exactly where he was at all times.

(Chimney had once called it his Built-In Tommy Radar™.)

Which, granted, was very dramatic.

But also, not entirely untrue.

And really, he blamed Tommy. He’d totally conditioned Buck. Because every time their eyes met across the room, Tommy would give him that smile.

The soft, scrunchy one, the one that was just for him.

And Buck?

Buck was a lost cause.

What else was he supposed to do but make his way to Tommy? To kiss that smile that was his and his alone, to sigh happily into his mouth, to melt under Tommy’s touch—the warm press of his hands on Buck’s hips, the rest of the world fading away.

So yeah. Maybe he was a PDA guy.

Maybe he did like having Tommy’s arms around him, the way he got pulled in effortlessly as Tommy talked to Chim, Hen or Eddie, like it was second nature, like he was proud to have Buck in his arms.

And maybe he did like the steady hand on his lower back when walking through a crowd, the way Tommy would subtly shift in front of him, protective without even thinking about it (and though Buck could take care of himself, there was something about the action that made him feel cared for), the soft kiss to the side of his head when there was a lull in conversation.

He also loved the dorky, completely endearing compliments Tommy gave Buck regardless of whoever was standing within listening distance, they always left him grinning like an idiot.

He doesn’t ever remember being as giddy as he gets when Tommy flirts with him—making him feel as nervous as their very first date.

And maybe—just maybe—he was a little obsessed with Tommy’s hugs.

(Okay, a lot obsessed.)

Because Tommy gave the best hugs.

Big and warm, arms wrapped around him like a shield, like Buck was something precious.

So yeah, he sought them out. Constantly. And maybe that happened to be when they were around people. So what. It was always a good time to get a Tommy hug.

And Tommy never denied him.

So Buck kept doing it.

One time, Buck had been trapped in a long-winded Chimney movie rant, which was fine, except he really missed Tommy and wanted to be in his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fascinating. Uh…excuse me, I gotta go ask Tommy something…” he said, turning in the direction of where he knew Tommy was.

Chimney stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. “You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?”

Buck blinked. “Hmm? What?’

Chimney sighed. “Go on. Find Tommy. I’m stealing him later.” He pointed a finger at Buck. “Heactually appreciates my movie discussions.”

Buck snorted. “Good luck with that.” He patted Chim’s shoulder and happily took off.

He found Tommy in the kitchen, drinking a glass of wine and talking to Hen. Without hesitation, Buck slotted himself into his side.

Tommy didn't even pause—just wrapped an arm around him, tugged him in closer, and kept talking.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, to have a Buck shaped limpet attached to his side.

Which, to be fair, it kind of was now.

Hen just raised an eyebrow. “You really can’t go five minutes without touching him, huh?”

“Nope,” Buck said easily.

Tommy just smiled, pressed a kiss to the top of Buck’s head, and kept rubbing slow circles into his back.

Buck grinned, nuzzling into Tommy’s neck, unable to mask the joy he felt in simple moments like this—where he objectively knew he was maybe being a bit too much, but had learned that in Tommy’s eyes?

It was never enough.

(5) After the Breakup

After the breakup—and after Tommy realized his mistake, and after Buck ignored what everyone else was telling him and went to get his man back, and after the screaming-crying match outside Tommy’s house, followed by clothes ripping, up against the door, we’re-having-sex-and-getting-back-together moment—Buck’s clinginess ramped up.

Not in a bad way. Not in a suffocating, unhealthy way.

Just in a he-knows-what-life-without-Tommy-feels-like-and-doesn’t-want-to-go-through-that-ever-again way.

And luckily for him, Tommy felt exactly the same.

Which was why, after a week of barely seeing each other because of their shifts, Buck was on the verge of losing it. He needed his Tommy time. It was a necessity at this point.

Buck was so ready to make up for lost time.

Usually, when this happened, they’d spend a full 48 hours wrapped up in each other. No interruptions, no responsibilities—just them.

But this time?

This time, the universe had conspired against them.

Buck didn’t know what god's he’d pissed off, but he’d love to make them an offering because this? This was just unfair.

Instead of catching up properly—with a nice dinner (Tommy for desert), a relaxing movie (which they wouldn’t really watch, because Buck would be riding Tommy), a long shower (where Tommy would suck him dry), and finally going to bed (making love until they wrung a couple of orgasm of each other)—they’d fallen asleep.

They’d both come off exhausting shifts that had gone into overtime, stumbled into bed, shared a sleepy kiss, and promptly passed out.

Of course, the next morning, they’d overslept.

Which meant no lazy morning kisses, no waking Tommy up with a blowjob, no time to soak each other in, and—worst of all—no shower quickie.

Nope. Rather, they’d had to rush out the door to make it to Bobby and Athena’s BBQ.

“Can’t we just stay in this time?” Buck pouted. “I can just tell them I got sick.”

Tommy chuckled, “Baby, we did that last time. And they didn’t believe it.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were such a bad actor? Buck huffed. “I told you to sound nasally, not British.”

Tommy shrugged, throwing him a long-suffering smile. “Well, now you know why I’m a pilot and not an actor,” he said drily.

Buck slumped in the passenger seat, fidgeting with Tommy’s fingers “I just want you all to myself. I feel like I haven’t seen in forever,” he whined.

“I know, sweetheart. I feel the same.” Tommy squeezed his hand. “But if we don’t make an appearance, we’re getting disowned.”

“Fine,” Buck grumbled.

And now, Buck was suffering.

He was pretty sure his family had conspired to ruin his life. Because tell him why everyone kept stealing Tommy away.

First, Chimney cornered him to talk about the greatest horror movies of the ‘90s (Who cares, Buck thought viciously.)

Then, Eddie pulled him aside for car talk. (C’mon man, you guys have your own bro day for this!)

After that, Maddie and Karen had claimed him, dragging him into a corner with wine and gossip (And okay, fine, Buck couldn’t compete with that right now—Tommy did love juicy gossip.)

But Buck?

Buck was two seconds away from doing some maiming.

He tried to be patient.

Tried to play it cool.

But after an hour of barely seeing Tommy? When they’d come here together?

Enough was enough.

So when they finally sat down to eat, Buck plopped himself right into Tommy’s lap.

Just. Dropped right in.

Complete silence around the table.

Until—

“Oh my god.” Chimney, squawked.

“Can you two be normal for five minutes?” Eddie sighed.

“Buckaroo, you do know there’s an empty chair right there?” Athena said, dryly.

“I’m surprised he lasted this long without touching Tommy,” Hen smirked.

Bobby just shook his head and passed the potatoes to Maddie.

“I think it’s sweet,” Maddie said, completely unbothered.

Tommy just laughed, wrapping an arm around Buck’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Missed me, babe?”

“You have no idea,” Buck sighed dramatically, melting against him.

The table collectively groaned.

“Disgusting.” Hen.

“Sickening.” Chimney.

“Truly vile.” Eddie.

“You’re all just jealous,” Buck mumbled into Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy chuckled, dropping a kiss to the side of Buck’s head, keeping one hand on his waist and pulling their plate closer to share.

Buck grinned.

Yeah, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

(+1) After the Breakup - Tommy’s Version

Tommy woke up first.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he found himself staring at Evan.

Evan, who was sleeping peacefully beside him, face soft and relaxed, his lips curved into the smallest, barely-there smile.

His head was pillowed on Tommy’s arm, his fingers curled loosely around Tommy’s waist, even in sleep still holding on.

Tommy exhaled, slow and careful, like if he moved too fast, it would all disappear.

Because some part of him—the stupid, still-scared part of him—was afraid this wasn’t real, that this was all a dream, a hallucination, a cruel trick of his own mind.

How could Evan really be here—in his house, in his bed, in his arms?

But no. He remembered.

Tommy remembered opening the door yesterday and coming face to face with an angry, teary-eyed Evan.

He remembered the way Evan had yelled at him—loud and emotional and so heartbreakingly honest.

“You don’t get to make that choice for me, Tommy! You don’t get to decide that you won’t be my last!”

And Tommy had broken down. Had said things he never meant to say out loud.

Had told Evan that he deserved better.

And Evan had shouted right back—loud, frustrated but completely sure of himself.

“I don’t want ‘better.’ I want you. Not some mythical, perfect person out there. You—Tommy. You’re already my perfectly imperfect guy. I love you.”

And Tommy—God.

Tommy had wanted to believe him. Had wanted to trust it.

So he’d made a choice. Because living without Evan had been the worst experience of his life.

And now, here they were.

Evan made a soft sound, stirring awake.

Tommy watched as his eyelashes fluttered, as his breathing shifted, as blue eyes slowly blinked open.

And then Evan saw him. And smiled, bright and beaming and easy, like he’d never once doubted Tommy was going to be here.

God.

How could Tommy have ever let this go?

He lifted a hand, fingers tracing the shape of Evan’s lips, his nose, the sharp line of his jaw. He followed the slope of his eyebrow, the curve of the pink mark above it.

Evan hummed happily, leaning into his touch.

And something in Tommy cracked wide open. Now that he could finally touch again, he couldn’t stop.

Not in the desperate, frantic way they had last night, when their hands had been all urgency, all need, all pent-up longing and desperation.

No. This was softer.

This was Tommy relearning Evan—as if he could ever truly forget him—his hands traveling slowly, memorizing and rediscovering all at once.

The curve of Evan’s hip. The dip of his spine. The warmth of his skin under Tommy’s palm.

Evan preened under the attention, sighing happily, and Tommy just soaked him in.

They lay there for a while, watching each other, saying everything without really saying a word.

Until finally, Evan made a move to sit up.

Tommy hadn’t even realized he made a noise—something small, something desperate, something aching—until Evan stopped instantly.

“Hey.” Evan’s voice was soft, questioning. “What’s wrong?”

Tommy swallowed.

His throat felt tight.

“Just—” He hesitated, but only for a second, then let himself be honest.

“Stay. A little while longer. Please.”

Evan smiled, soft and knowing. “Of course, honey.”

He opened his arms, and Tommy fell into them, into warmth and safety and home. Fell into the one place he never wanted to leave again.

Evan’s arms came up around him, holding him just as tightly as Tommy was holding on to him.

Tommy pressed his face into the crook of Evan’s neck, exhaling slow, letting himself breathe, letting himself believe.

He had Evan.

Because Evan had chosen him.

And this time?

Tommy wasn’t letting him go.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #day 4 #clingy boyfriends #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #5+1 things #5 + 1 fic #fluff and humor #mild angst #long post #my fluffebruary fics

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filmologetica · 10 months ago

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I’LL MAKE YOU FORGET YOU’RE GAY — soldier boy

pairing: soldier boy x demigod!reader

the one where: the reader tries to make a tiktok with ben.

warnings: +18. soldier boy (y’all know he’s pretty much a warning himself), language, mentions of sex, established relationship, a little bit of grumpy x sunshine.

a/n: english is not my first language and this is my first time writing.

Ben was aware you were awake for quite some time now. He knew that because even from far away in the big apartment he could not only hear your giggles while still in bed, but he could also hear all the Tiktoks you were watching. Which, by the way, he thought was the stupidest thing ever created.

He drank his coffee silently on the couch, trying to focus on the newspaper in hand. The whole supe thing was a lot, but the super hearing was what got him the most. Living in New York was noisy enough for humans, let alone for superheroes. Sometimes it took him quite a while to be able to focus on what he wanted, and you knew exactly how frustrating that could be, after all, being a supe wasn’t easy on anyone you’ve ever seen. Your case was slightly different. You weren’t a supe after all, just a demigod.

“Morning, handsome.” You purred, hugging Ben from behind on the couch and kissing his cheek before hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Bed’s so cold without you.”

“You’re a daughter of Apollo.” He says, without even looking away from the paper.

“So? You’re a different level of hot.” Ben can’t hide the smirk on his face after hearing you. Leaving the cup on the center table and the paper on the couch, he looks at you, pulling you to his lap.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard around.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. He winks at you, nonchalantly. “Thought you were gonna spend all day watching those stupid fucking videos. How are you fucking able to see the same fucking thing over and over again and still find it fucking funny?”

“Dear gods, how can you kiss me with that mouth?!” You playfully push his shoulder with a frown.

“You know I can do so much more with that mouth, Doll.” You could feel his voice getting lower and his hands start to roam over your naked legs. “Need a reminder?”

“Maybe I do.” You moved your hips a little, adjusting your positions making your ass fit perfectly where you could feel his cock. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll grant you the best head you’ve ever had-”

“Deal.”

“Let me finish!” You roll your eyes once again. “I’ll give you the best head you’ve ever had if you make a tiktok with me.”

“Fuck no.” Ben pushed you out of his lap, grabbing the empty cup and taking it to the kitchen.

“Please!”

“No.”

You followed him around like a lost puppy. “It’s a free blowjob!”

“Well, I already get lots of these. Think of something better.” Ben crossed his arms looking at you with no hints of humor.

“Period sex?” You knew how hard it was for him to spend days without fucking you when you had your period.

“Done that.” He slapped your ass before leaving the kitchen unimpressed.

“ANAL!” You yelled and Ben stopped in his tracks. Turning around slowly you regretted the whole conversation. He watched you smirking mischievously. That dirty look on his face making your panties wet.

“Grab your fucking phone, Sunshine.”

Positioning your phone at the center table was easy. The image was good and clear. You were sitting on the couch wearing one of Ben’s big shirts and he had an amused face thinking about how easy it was going to be. But well, you had your tricks.

Pressing the record button, you were fast with your words. “Ok. So, this is a simple trick I’ve learned on Tiktok and it actually works. Ready?”

Ben frowned in his place, moving closer to the camera with full attention and no idea what you were talking about or what was about to happen. “I guess.”

“From the minute I snap my fingers you’ll forget you’re gay.” Snap.

The look on Ben’s face was confused as hell. “What? I’m not gay!”

“IT WORKS!” You laughed amazed with the scene. Maybe dating an old men was really fun after all.

“What works? I’m not fucking gay, Y/N.”

“You really forgot! Oh, gods! That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you how gay I am while my fucking cock is deep inside that pretty little ass of yours fucking you raw.”

And you pressed the button to stop.

#i love old people on tiktok #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagine #the boys #the boys series #soldier boy fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagines #jensen ackles fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester imagines #supernatural

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digitalworldbound · 4 months ago

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through the lens

characters: takeru/hikari summary: hikari has a photography project: photograph one person of your choice. initially, takeru feels like the natural choice. it isn't until she meets his gaze through the lens that hikari realizes she may have bit off more than she can chew. ao3 link A/N: thank you for reading!! sorry for being inactive. i started new job, bought a house, and have a lot of things just piling up. the only thing that hasn't changed is my love for takari, lol.

Crimson maple leaves twirled on the crisp autumn breeze. Hikari adjusted the settings on her camera, peering through the viewfinder at Takeru, who was leaning casually against a park bench, the golden afternoon light making his blonde hair appear even softer than usual. He smirked at her, and she knew that look meant trouble.

"Are you sure I’m your best option for this?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. His golden hair shone in the mid-afternoon sun, momentarily distracting her. "I mean, you could have picked anyone. Maybe someone who won’t drive you crazy."

Hikari sighed but couldn't fight the smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth. "You fit the assignment. Someone close to me, someone I see often. You just happen to be a menace about it."

Takeru grinned. "I prefer ‘charmingly uncooperative.’"

She rolled her eyes and snapped a photo just as he gave her that playful, lopsided grin. Her chest thudded pitifully - it was unfair how photogenic he was. She could already imagine her professor’s comments about how natural and effortless these shots looked, but she knew better.

Takeru knew exactly what he was doing.

For the past week, every time she tried to capture a candid moment, he made it as difficult as possible. Sometimes he would hold eye contact a beat too long, just to see if she’d flinch. Other times, he’d lean in after she adjusted a shot, murmuring, "Do I look good like this, or do you just like looking at me?"

It was infuriating. It was exhilarating.

They had always been best friends, defending the world together and arguing over math homework. Hikari couldn’t pinpoint the moment that his smile made her stutter or the way his casual flirting made her heart race.

The courtyard was bustling with students. Some hurriedly jogged to their next class while others leisurely basked in the sun. Hikari lowered her camera and sighed. "Can you just behave for once? I need at least one serious shot."

Takeru tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Okay. But only if you answer one question first."

She narrowed her eyes. "That’s not how this works."

"Oh, but it is," he countered, sitting up straighter. "You’ve been staring at me for days now. Any new revelations?"

Her grip tightened around the camera. She was used to his teasing, but something about the way he said it—too lighthearted to be serious, too pointed to be meaningless—made her heart stutter. She wanted to blame it on the crisp autumn air, but she knew better.

"Yeah," she replied, aiming the lens at him again to avoid his gaze. "I’ve realized you have the attention span of a goldfish. Now hold still."

She could feel her fingers tremble slightly, Takeru’s crystal blue eyes piercing hers through the lens.

His laughter rang through the park, warm and familiar, and despite herself, Hikari clicked the shutter.

Another perfect shot. Another moment where her feelings threatened to slip out from where she had carefully tucked them away.

And Takeru? He just kept pushing, just to see how long it would take for her to break.

Later that evening, Hikari sat at her desk, scrolling through the images on her laptop. Each one was a snapshot of a moment that felt too intimate, too revealing. Takeru’s easy smiles, his lingering glances—she had caught them all, frozen in time.

She let out a breath, resting her chin in her hand. She was overthinking this. It was just an assignment, just a project. But then why did she feel like every picture told a story she wasn’t ready to admit?

A notification popped up on her screen. A message from Takeru.

Takeru: "So, do I make a good muse, or are you just falling for me?"

Hikari groaned, her cheeks heating up. Somehow she could feel his self-satisfied smirk from across campus.

The next day, they met up for another round of photos, this time in a quiet bookstore. Takeru had always loved books, and Hikari figured the setting might help her focus—less space for Takeru to pull his usual antics.

Quickly, Hikari realized she was wrong.

The aisle was lined with books on either side. Colorful spines were crammed together on the shelves, the smell of paper and academic comforting and familiar.

"So, do you want me to pretend I’m reading something deep and intellectual?" Takeru teased, holding up a random book. "Or would you prefer my usual ‘charmingly uncooperative’ approach?"

Hikari smirked, deciding it was time to turn the tables. "Actually," she said, leaning in slightly, "I think you should pose like one of those brooding literary heroes. You know, all mysterious and full of unspoken longing."

It was a clumsy attempt at turning the tables. She had wanted to make Takeru pause, to feel as flustered as she had been feeling. More than anything, she wanted a reaction. She wanted to know that whatever was brewing between them wasn’t one-sided.

Takeru raised an eyebrow. "Unspoken longing? Sounds intense."

She nodded seriously, lifting her camera. "Yeah. Just lean against the bookshelf like you’re contemplating the meaning of love. Maybe stare off into the distance like you’re remembering a past romance."

Without so much as a pause, Takeru chuckled but played along, striking an exaggerated pose. "Like this? Or do I need to look even more tragically handsome?"

Hikari giggled, snapping a few shots. "No, no, you need to sigh dramatically. Maybe clutch the book to your chest. Really sell it."

To her surprise, Takeru did exactly that, closing his eyes and placing a hand over his heart. "Ah, the agony of love lost!" he intoned theatrically, drawing a few curious glances from the other patrons.

Hikari burst into laughter, nearly dropping her camera. "Okay, okay, I give up! You’re too good at this."

Takeru straightened up, grinning. "See? I can follow directions when I want to. But I have to say, Hikari—if you wanted to see me as a romantic hero, you could’ve just said so." He leaned closer to her, eyes glinting mischievously.

Her laughter faltered as her face went warm. She fumbled with her camera, pretending to check the settings. "D-Don’t flatter yourself."

"Too late," he said smoothly, leaning just a little closer. "I think you just admitted something."

Hikari huffed, raising the camera again. "Just pose, Takeru."

He chuckled but obliged, and as she took another photo, she realized that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t the only one enjoying this game.

A week or so later, Hikari and Takeru managed to score a table at a busy ramen shop downtown. Different smells wafted in the air, eliciting a growl from Hikari’s stomach.

Across from her, Takeru chuckled. “Going for the struggling artist archetype? I didn’t realize clicking a button could work up such an appetite.”

His fingers wrapped around his drink, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a long sip.

Hikari huffed, fiddling with the strap of her film camera. “The only thing I struggle with is an uncooperative subject.”

Takeru smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Their food arrived, steaming and delicious. Hikari dove in immediately, sipping carefully on the hot broth.

A moment of comfortable silence settled between them, the ambiance of the restaurant taking over before Takeru spoke. He eyed the camera that was slung around her neck, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Going vintage today, are we?”

Hikari rolled her eyes, not bothering to comment. Instead, she took a sip of her drink, nearly missing the way Takeru’s eyes briefly settled on her lips before he smirked.

She hated that smirk.

“If you asked for my opinion -”

“I didn’t,” Hikari cut in dryly.

“If you had asked, though, I would say that seeing my face in great digital clarity has proven too much for you. You have to resort to medieval measures to avoid getting flustered by my beauty.”

Hikari nearly choked on her noodles. A flush crawled up her neck as her ears grew warm. Delicately, she wiped her mouth with a napkin, avoiding the intensity of Takeru’s gaze.

“It’s just more portable,” Hikari muttered weakly. Takeru wasn’t wrong and he knew it. Hesitantly, she peeked through her eyelashes at him.

Takeru’s gaze never left her face as his chopsticks expertly gathered his noodles and brought them to his mouth. The air felt dense, almost electric. It was as if he were challenging her to a game he knew well. Hikari suddenly felt lost, her hands sweating and pulse thrumming in her ears.

Just as the noodles reached his lips, Takeru looked away. Part of Hikari was grateful that she could breathe easy for a moment. The other part wondered if she had missed an opportunity of sorts.

Without thinking, she lifted the viewfinder to her eyes, her breath stuttering. The streetlights illuminated Takeru’s eyes, his gaze distant and slightly troubled. His chin was propped in one hand while the other still held the chopsticks in the bowl. Warm lights from the inside of the restaurant gave him a golden, ethereal glow. She had grown so used to the boy she’d grown up with that she hadn’t fully realized just how much he had changed.

Hikari’s mind blanked.

Takeru was beautiful.

With an audible click, she captured the moment, his blue eyes turning to her with surprise.

Good, Hikari thought. It was satisfying to see Takeru, so normally poised and self-assured, being rattled by the mere click of a button.

“Give that to me,” he stated playfully, a hand reaching across the table. Wordlessly, Hikari handed him the camera, her quiet curiosity evident. As Takeru grabbed the camera, their fingers brushed briefly, Hikari inhaling quickly. His eyes glittered with mirth and something else - something deeper - she hadn’t seen before.

Takeru held the camera against his eye, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“I didn’t realize there were views this great so close to campus.”

Before Hikari could mask her shock, the shutter clicked, immortalizing the heat rising in her cheeks and the rapid beat of her heart.

#hikari yagami #takeru takaishi #takari #digimon #digimon adventure

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qedart · 2 years ago

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Time Warp AU - #14 Well this update just didn't want to come together. But finally it's done (all 8K+ of it 😬) and I'm actually rather happy with how it turned out. So I hope you all enjoy this offering of Pete emotional H/C with a side of parental Icemav.

Honestly, Pete had never really got the big deal about birthdays. Sure, when he was little they seemed important. They’re supposed to, when you’re young. But he wasn’t a child anymore.

He’d learned a long time ago that simply managing to make it through the year wasn’t exactly cause for celebration. A few rounds of people forgetting, ignoring, or scoffing at him for waiting for some kind of acknowledgment of the date had made it all very clear to him - nobody gives a damn about stuff like that, and you look pathetic if anybody catches on that you might.

So he didn’t. Doesn’t.

For the longest time now, the only real significance that that day held for him was as a marker of his being one year closer to independence. Living with Mav and Ice, even that didn’t provide the same spiteful satisfaction that it once had.

These days, he didn’t count down the months until he was free of the people he found himself in the midst of. Quite the opposite really. Ice, Maverick, Tom, the Daggers, the uncles… they were good people. Good, kind, safe people - and they actually seemed to like Pete being around.

Nothing lasts forever though, of course. He knew that. He was well aware that he was one big screw up away from blemishing whatever image they all had of him, one proper misstep from sending the whole house of cards he’d built around himself from falling to the ground in one way or another. And he was well overdue for one of those mistakes. Unfortunately, it was an inevitability. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Pete Mitchell messes up nice things.

He tried not to let it bother him too much.

It was better to just live in the moment, and at this particular moment he had far bigger concerns than inevitabilities or the fact that he was turning 17 in a week. The chief among them - Maverick was turning 60.

Unlike Pete’s birthday, that was something significant. That was important. That was worthy of celebration.

Up until this whole time-warp fiasco went down, Pete would have put money on him (any version of him) not making it past 30. 60 was double that! It demanded celebration, even if Mav himself had developed a habit of referring to the subject of his age merely as ‘the situation’.

So when Ice suggested a little lunchtime get-together by the Hard Deck the coming Saturday ‘for the birthday we’ve got coming up’, he agreed that it was a fantastic idea.

“Penny’s got a barbecue there that we could use I’m pretty sure,” Tom chipped in over his cereal.

“Nice. I’ll be there if there’s food,” Pete grinned as he made a bowl for himself.

Tom rolled his eyes.

“You were going to be there anyway, numb-skull.”

“Boys, please,” Ice sighed, before Pete could return fire. “I’ve not had my coffee yet, let’s just hold off on the bickering for a little while longer.”

Pete sniffed when Tom promptly shot him an exceedingly smug smirk.

“I’d get drinking if I were you.”

“Pete.”

“Fine,” Pete huffed, before turning back to Ice. “The beach sounds great though. Want us to bring anything?”

“Just yourselves,” Ice replied, shaking his head. “Mav and I will sort out the logistics.”

And that was that. Party at the beach to celebrate Mav’s 60th, be there at 12. Sorted.

The rest of the week went by like normal, for the most part. He was asked if he was excited about the party a bit more often than he expected he would be, but he figured it was just people making conversation. He and Tom spent most of Thursday trying to find the old man a fitting birthday present.

“You’ve seen the hanger! How are we supposed to top that?!”

“I think we should probably start by setting our sights a little lower.”

In the end they decided to both go in on a new camera, figuring it was the most affordable of Mav’s hobbies to tap into.

When the day itself eventually did roll around, Pete was up and out of bed by dawn. Not due to excitement, and not due to any additional birthday gestures like he’d been contemplating (a fry up was always a good start to the day, after all), no - due to Tom.

“We’re going for a ride and you’re going to enjoy it,” he announced the second Pete woke (with a start, thanks to the other boy dropping his riding jacket and boots on top of him). “Up and at ‘em.”

“But what about Mav’s-?”

“We’ll see him at the party, I’ve left a note,” Tom announced, grabbing the end of Pete’s quilt and dragging it out of the room with him. “Mush.”

“I hate you!”

“Hate me on the move. There is breakfast with our name on it somewhere.”

“Ugh!”

The ride, annoyingly, was fantastic. The roads were mostly clear, and riding with Tom was always a blast. Tom even bought him breakfast and a couple of pastries for after (“It’s your birthday, idiot. Of course I’m shouting”). It was… well, nice. Pete didn’t care about birthdays, he really didn’t, but even still… it was just nice. Sitting at the look out, munching on the food his best friend had bought for him, he found himself feeling genuinely content with life and how it was turning out. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to even imagine that. It was a moment he resolved to savour.

“You feel any different?” Tom asked, smirking as he dusted the icing sugar from his Pączki off his fingers.

Pete scoffed at the question, rolling his eyes.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, nodding seriously. “I feel like I’ve levelled up, you know? Way more mature now. I feel like I’ve really grown as a person.”

“And yet not an inch vertically? Life’s not fair, is it-?”

“Fuck you!”

Tom snickered, ducking out of the way of the hand Pete swung at the back of his head, before holding his own up in surrender.

“Seriously though, happy birthday,” he said, shooting Pete a warm smile that made his stomach do that fluttering thing he’d noticed it doing more and more often lately.

Smiling himself and ducking his head, Pete shrugged.

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s not really a big deal.”

“Well as somebody with a vested interest in your being born, I reckon it is,” Tom retorted, rolling his eyes.

Pete scoffed, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he folded his arms over his knees.

“A vested interest, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Nawww, you do like me,” Pete snickered.

“You’re letting it get to your head.”

“Is that why you brought me out here, to confess your undying love?”

“In. your. dreams,” Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Bringing you out here was my present to both you and Mav.”

“How is me going to go for a ride and being bought breakfast a present for Maverick?

“You going for a ride and being bought breakfast means both you and I are here, not at home. Which means Mav and Ice have the whole place to themselves, all morning. And there’s no chance of either of us overhearing anything and being scarred for life.”

Pete blinked at that, before pulling a face at the thought of Mav’s birthday ride and announcing, utterly serious, “You’re the best friend a guy could ever ask for.”

“I know,” Tom drawled, before shrugging as he tucked the rubbish from his breakfast into his backpack. “And maybe I wanted to get in first with the birthday wishes.”

“Always a competition with you, isn’t it?” Pete scoffed, ignoring the other boy’s derisive snort as he jumped back to his feet. “Race you back to the Hard Deck!”

“Absolutely not!” Tom snapped, hurrying to his feet all the same as Pete bounded over to the bikes. “That flies entirely in the face of the contract!”

“I laugh in the face of the contract!”

“Yes! That’s why it took so long to draft! Pete!”

They didn’t end up racing back, much to Tom’s relief. As a result, by the time they pulled up, pretty much everybody had arrived at the beach. Bradely, Hangman, and Phoenix were still by the Bronco though, pulling the last of their stuff out the back.

“Ah, the birthday boy has arrived,” Hangman cried as they wandered over.

“Ha ha,” Pete scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning to Rooster. “Hey, can we dump our helmets and stuff in your car?”

“Sure, the back seat should be free,” he replied as he hefted the cooler from the trunk. “But really, happy birthday, Pete.”

“Ah, thanks?” Pete replied, a confused smile tugging at his lips as he stepped out of the way for Tom to stow his stuff away as well. That’s two times today. Weird.

“What’s with the face?” Phoenix asked, laughing. “17 is a big deal.”

Pete laughed.

“Yeah right,” he replied, stooping to grab one of the bags from their pile. “16’s supposed to be a big deal, and 18 definitely is. 17’s just there.”

“Agree to disagree. But, that raises a good question,” replied Jake, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “What sort of Sweet 16 fiasco are we competing with today?”

Pete arched a brow at the question, but figured it made sense. Out of all the milestone birthdays, 16 was the only relevant one he and Mav had an overlap on. Though he wasn’t sure how much “I spent most of it in the ER with a broken arm’ would help with gauging the temperature for how this one was going.

Instead he just shrugged.

“Nothing really special. I’m sure this’ll be way better.”

“That’s what we’re aiming for,” Jake replied with a grin, ruffling Pete’s hair (and then, far more amusingly, Tom’s), before leading the way over to the sand.

Pete blinked as they drew closer. A lot of people had turned up. All of the daggers were here, pitching up chairs and umbrellas or tossing a football (actually, two footballs) around while almost all the uncles and even Viper milled about among them. Mav, Ice, Slider, and Penny were getting the barbecue started, chatting with Warlock and Cyclone (which was weird, but probably Ice’s doing). He even spotted Amelia and Theo slip out of the Hard Deck, deep in conversation with Hondo (about something nerdy and interesting no doubt) to join the group.

“Damn, Mav sure invited a lot of people for someone who pulls faces whenever anybody utters the number 60 around him,” he laughed as he hefted the bag further up his shoulder. “Or are you all gatecrashing just to torment him?”

Jake snorted at that, rolling his eyes.

“Nah. Though he is being a baby about it, so if we did it would be his own fault,” he replied.

“He actually ordered us not to mention ‘the situation’ the other day,” Bradley scoffed, shaking his head.

“In fairness, Roo - you and Bagman were having a lot of fun at his expense,” said Phoenix as they all dropped their bags on the sand and set about making camp. She grinned at Pete and Tom. “There have been lots of fossil jokes. These two even smuggled a walker on base and swapped it with his lectern before debrief. He had to walk it to the side of the classroom.”

“Cruel,” Tom snickered from beside him. “Funny, but cruel.”

“You know it,” Jake cackled, dropping his bags down on the sand before stretching his arms over his head. “But nah, he’s opted out of a group celebration. Don’t know why. But I’m afraid that means you’re flying solo today, baby bro.”

Pete blinked again.

“...I’m what?”

“You’ve got the spotlight pretty much to yourself today,” Bradley replied, shrugging like it was the simplest thing. “Apparently he’s got some day-trip planned with Ice tomorrow, so he’s sorted. That just leaves you with all of the attention. Reckon you can handle that?”

…Shit.

Shit, shit shit - he had not prepared for this. He’d not expected this. What the hell even was this?! He’s turning 17. Who gives a shit?! Why the hell would all of these people come out here, some of them a hell of a long way, just for him?! They wouldn’t. Had they not been told it was just for him? Did Mav wriggle out of this at the last second and now he had 20+ people who’d pretty much written off half their weekend for no reason on his hands?

“Pete, you alright?” Tom asked, shaking his shoulder, a worried expression on his face.

Pete grimaced, before glancing around at the others and finding them all looking at him with concern.

He pulled on a wide grin and laughed.

“Me? Yeah, of course!” he replied cheerily, mind racing all the while. He needed a minute to himself. To come up with a plan. To fix this.

Quickly turning back to the others, slapping his forehead as he did, he said, “You know what? I think I left my phone on my bike. Just gonna go grab that, can’t lose another one. Are you guys good here for a sec?”

“I mean, yeah,” Tom said slowly, frowning.

“Great!” Pete cheered (perhaps a bit too overzealously, but whatever) before spinning around and, with a quick “Back in a moment!” taking off back up the beach.

Right, step one, calm the hell down. He had to get a hold of himself and he had to do it now.

Alright, it was a surprise. Alright, there were probably going to be some irritated people down there. So what? He could deal with irritated people. He could deal with people that actively wanted to kick his ass, irritated is nothing. Why the hell was he freaking out so much? Less than a year of being treated nicely and he’d gone completely soft, seriously?

He shook his head roughly.

He was fine. This was fine. He’d make it work somehow. He just needed to stop acting like a baby and come up with a plan of action.

He could direct attention back to Maverick. The old man can try and wriggle out of it all he likes but two can play this game. He’ll stick around for an hour, direct as much attention to Mav as possible, whip Jake and Bradely up into enough of a frenzy to keep the momentum going and then make a classy exit. Nobody will even remember he was here and they’ll forget all about this misunderstanding. That’s good. That’ll work.

…Unless Mav launches a counter-attack. Which he would.

Shit!

“Pete?”

Pete whirled around and found Mav and Ice approaching, both looking concerned and not all that surprised to see him up here. Goddamnit, Tom, the snitch!!

“What’s going on, kiddo?” Mav asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I mean, that’s a pretty good question man,” Pete replied, running a hand through his hair anxiously as he glanced down at the beach once more before turning his attention (and frustration) back to the older man. “I get that you’ve got some sort of three quarter life crisis going on about turning 60, but seriously, throwing me under the bus so you can avoid that is a dick move.”

Mav, the bastard, looked more confused than chastened at the rebuke, exchanging a bemused glance with Ice.

“You’re going to have to spell this one out for us, buddy.”

Pete groaned, folding his hands on top of his head.

“First, explain it to me, guys,” he replied. “What was the plan? Trick everyone here by saying it’s a party for Mav and then hope people aren’t too put out when it turns out it was for the other Mitchell? Jeez guys, I mean, what the hell? Why the hell?! Nobody gives a damn it’s my birthday. I don’t give a damn it’s my birthday. Now it looks like I do, and now I get to look like the stupid little moron who needed people tricked here to pad things out!”

“Pete,” Ice said slowly, holding his hands out like he was trying to calm down some wounded animal. Like Pete was being irrational about this. “You do know this party is for you, right?”

“Yes,” Pete replied with every ounce of patience he possessed. “I’m aware of that. That’s exactly my point”

“No. He means it was always intended to be just for you,” Mav weighed in.

Pete sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried his very best to channel Ice and remain as diplomatic as he possibly could (it did not help, mind you, that Ice was joining in on this nonsense. But he tried nevertheless).

“Look,” he said with forced calm, “I see what you’re trying to do, and it’s a nice thought. I appreciate that you guys care and want to make a fuss, I do. But you can’t just expect to trick people into writing off half their weekend for one thing, and then bait and switch with a discount offer at the last second. Wood and Wolf flew in from Texas for this, guys. Please. I’ll see if I can get the Daggers to lay off the fossil jokes, but- …what’s this?”

“Read it,” Ice replied, holding his phone out to Pete until he took it and did as he was told.

Jake has named the group chat: Big Effing Deal Jake: First of all, how. dare. you? Nat: Seconded! Both for leaving us out and forcing me to agree with Bagman. Jake: Look what you’ve brought us too!!! Nat: I feel physically sick. Jake: Ditto. Bradley: Wow, you guys really are in sync today. Nat: You take that back!!! Ice: Could somebody please explain what we’re being accused of here. Jake: Betrayal!!! Coyote: Dude - you’ve been hitting the expresso machine again, haven’t you? Mav: Guys. BOB: Rooster mentioned you are having a get together for Pete’s birthday on Saturday and we’re all handling the rejection differently. Fanboy: How could you, Mav? Mav: Well first, there’s no rejection for anybody to handle. We floated the idea of a beach party this morning and he seemed alright with it. So if you guys are free and want to come along, you’re more than welcome to. Jake: Was that so hard?!!!! Mav: If you’d waited a few more hours I’d have invited you in person at work tomorrow. Jake: But Roo gets his invite right away??? :( Ice: Rooster was over during the day, so yes, he heard first. Rooster: Remember how you were supposed to help me fix their gate today? Jake: Nope. Poorly communicated on your part. Jake: Moving swiftly on - we need times. And gift ideas. Nat: What a crappy brother. I got my present for him weeks ago. Payback: Burn. Payback: Also, same. Jake: You’re a pair of goody-goodies, I’m not surprised in the slightest. Jake: Besides it doesn’t matter how early you got it. It’s how good it is. Nat: Got you beat there too Bagman. Jake: Bullshit. Pete and I have a connection. Payback: Is that what we’re calling you being a terrible influence now? Coyote: Just before these three properly kick off - is this a joint birthday bash? Or Pete-specific? Mav: Pete specific. Mav: I’ve already got plans for mine. Ice: And by that he means I have already made plans for him. Ice: They’re on Sunday though, so we’ll be there regardless. Mav: And people think I’m the competitive one. My point is, I’m covered, so don’t go worrying about that. Coyote: Roger that! Fanboy: This is going to be great!! I can bake a cake if you like!!! Lil bro likes chocolate, right? Payback: Guys - take him up on the offer! Phoenix: This! ^^^^^ Ice: That would be lovely, Fanboy, thank you. And yes, chocolate would be well received I expect. Fanboy: Yeeeeeesssss!! Mav: Right, we’re just going to leave you guys to this. Rooster: Oh, actually, just before you go… Bradley’s added Sly-Guy, Chip_P, E!News, Full_M00ning… Mav: Oh you little shit stirrer. Sli-Guy: First of all, how dare you?!

Pete blinked, utterly mystified, as he scrolled through the group chat (which seemed to go on for quite a bit) before eventually turning back to Ice and Mav.

“I… I don’t understand,” he uttered.

“Join the club, kiddo,” Mav replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You helped plan this,” Ice pointed out, a baffled expression on his ordinarily nonplussed face. “I specifically asked you if you would like a party at the Hard Deck?”

“I thought you were asking for my input for Mav’s party,” Pete muttered, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment as he realised just how stupid he apparently was.

“The daggers have been talking to you about it all week?” Mav pointed out, equally confused. “Bob asked you what snacks you’d like him to bring.”

“I thought they were coming to me because they couldn’t get anything out of you!” Pete snapped back hotly.

Ice held up a hand, cutting that line of conversation off before it could get too heated. Taking a deep, exceedingly put upon breath, he sighed “Once again, it appears that this family’s outstanding communication skills have come back to bite us all in the ass.”

He turned back to Pete.

“If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t meant to be a surprise party,” he said.

Pete scoffed softly, in spite of himself, but soon enough the begrudging amusement gave way to confusion once more.

“I still don’t understand,” he said. “Why would all of them come out if they knew it was just for me?”

“How’s it any different from them coming out for me?” Maverick asked with a frown.

Pete shrugged.

“They’re your family,” he replied simply. “They’re supposed to show up for you.”

“They’re your family too,” Maverick argued, his frown deepening.

“You do know that, don’t you?” Ice said slowly, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Yeah. Course,” Pete muttered, cutting a quick glance to the group in question. Nobody seemed to have noticed they were gone yet, thank goodness. Somehow Pete felt like he’d find himself even more outnumbered if they did. He had to bury this quick though, if he wanted to avoid that fate.

Unfortunately, when he turned back to the oldtimers, Ice had his signature ‘so you’re just going to lie to my face now?’ expression in place. Never a good sign. Also almost never directed at Pete he realised with a dull pain.

“You know, you pull that face every time this topic of conversation comes up.”

“What face?”

“The ‘well if it makes them happy’ face,” Ice replied, folding his arms over his chest. “Be honest with us, Pete. What’s going on here?”

Pete shrunk back a little at that, feeling very much under a spotlight all of a sudden and not entirely sure why.

“N-nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

“Well clearly something is. And just to be clear, do you honestly believe that we’d have all been fine throwing a party for Maverick and doing absolutely nothing for you?” the older man asked, arching a brow pointedly.

“I… I mean… I… I’d get it,” Pete stuttered, heart pounding in his chest. What the hell was going on? What did he even do? He took a step back, giving into the instinct to at least be out of arm's length, only to knock into the back of Ice’s Jeep when he tried. Crap. He was trapped. And he was in trouble. And he didn’t know why.

His alarm must have shown on his face too, because soon enough Ice was taking a step back himself, hands held up disarmingly.

“Pete, I’m not angry with you,” he said, calmly and far gentler than before. “I’m sorry.”

Pete swallowed thickly, but nodded all the same as he tried to rein himself in, to calm down for goodness sake. He was being so damn stupid!!

“I just don’t understand,” Ice continued. “You know everybody here loves you, don’t you? We haven’t dropped the ball that much I hope.”

Embarrassment and shame twisted sickeningly in the pit of Pete’s belly. Because he did know that. He knew how hard everybody had tried to make him and Tom feel welcome. And not just as novelty extensions of Mav and Ice either, but as their own, separate people. They’d all tried so hard to bring them into the family and make them feel like they belonged in it, Pete knew it. He saw it each day. For the most time, he felt it too, but there was just this part of him that wouldn’t allow him to accept it fully. Wouldn’t allow him to trust it. To trust them.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered weakly, staring down at the tips of his boots. “I… I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s not anything you guys have done, or haven’t done. I know how much you’ve all tried to be welcoming. And you have, truly. I love it here… so much. But… but every time I try to… it’s just in the back of my mind I’m always… I…”

He flinched sharply when something touched his arm, but it was just Ice reaching out to him. All of a sudden, that contact, that offer of reassurance was all he wanted. Sighing heavily he stepped forward and leaned against the old man’s chest, dragging in a deep, calming breath as Ice’s arms wrapped around him, squeezed him in a tight.

“I love it here,” he uttered. “And everybody here… and I know they- you all care - about me and Tom. But I just know…”

He sighed deeply.

“It’s just… self-preservation, I guess. I know it’s going to really hurt, so much, when I mess up. I didn’t care, when it was just some other home I was stuck in longer than usual, but now… now it’s probably too late already. When I mess up and have to go-”

“Hey, who said anything about you going anywhere,” Ice said with a frown, holding him closer. “We told you, you have a place in this family for life. Nothing will change that.”

Pete sighed sadly, shaking his head where it was pressed to Ice’s sternum. They didn’t get it. They felt that way now, but it wouldn’t last.

“No matter how hard you try, you’re going to end up alone.”

Both Pete and Ice froze at that, before turning to face Maverick, who looked all the world like he’d just commented on the weather rather than putting one of Pete’s deepest, most painful fears to words. And he wasn’t done.

“We’re going realise just how messed up you really are. How much damage has been done. How much of it can’t be undone. And, most importantly, how much of it you probably deserved. And sooner or later we’ll change our mind about you. It’s all well and good to say we’ll always want you in the family if we haven’t seen the full picture yet, because let’s face it, you’re on the good behaviour streak of a lifetime right now. But sooner or later, you’re going to mess up, because that’s what you do. And then we’ll see the real you. The screw up. The waste of space. The guy everybody else can see clearly. Eventually the rose-coloured glasses will come off and we’ll really see you for what you are. We’ll get tired of trying to bring somebody into a family who doesn’t deserve to be in it and clearly is meant to be on their own. It’ll be better for everyone to just stop trying. We probably won’t kick you out, to be fair - but when you head off to college or the academy… the calls and emails will peter out. Tom will probably find his own people too, when he’s got other options. He’ll stop spending time with you too. It’ll probably be pretty amicable really. But everybody will just go on with their life and there will be no room for you in them. That will be that. Better to just accept it now, try not to get too attached to how things are, so when it happens, at least you won’t look like you were blindsided by it all. It’s a bit less pathetic if you at least saw it coming.”

Pete’s stomach sunk so fast through the blacktop it felt like he was pulling negative G’s. Mav knew. Mav saw how this was going to play out just as clearly as he did. The first card in his little house was beginning to wobble.

To his horror he felt his face beginning to heat up and his eyes beginning to sting. He dragged in a deep, shuddering breath, squeezing them shut tight. He wasn’t a baby. This wasn’t a surprise. He wasn’t going to start crying in the middle of the car park where everybody could see him like some child.

He jumped as an arm wrapped around his shoulders and looked up to find Ice, holding him close again, and leading them to the space between his jeep and Bradley’s Bronco - more or less out of sight from the rest of the group.

“Sit down and take a few deep breaths for me, kiddo,” he murmured, manoeuvring Pete until he was sitting down on the gravel, back pressed against the rubber of the Bronco’s tyre. Biting his lip, he folded his arms tight over his chest, knees drawing up as Ice kneeled down beside him and wrapped an arm back around his shoulders, rubbing up and down his arm soothingly all the while.. “In and out. Just like that. What the hell, Mav?”

“Just trying to work out what we’re dealing with here,” Maverick replied, sounding tired and sad now. “Pete, can you look at me?”

Pete really didn’t want to. This was all humiliating and painful enough without risking bursting into tears the second he made eye contact with the old man as well. But, at the same time, this was the reality of the situation, and closing his eyes and hiding from it wasn’t going to change anything either, except to make him look even more childish. So whether he wanted to or not, he didn’t have much of a choice.

Clenching his jaw tight and breathing in deeply through his nose, he (as resolutely as he could manage) lifted his head and met Mav’s eye. He wasn’t expecting to be met with a sympathetic expression. How could Mav see him so clearly, and still look at him like that.

“Does that about sum it up?” the old man asked, cocking his head to the side. “What’s going on in that head of yours.”

Scrubbing roughly at his face, Pete nodded his head.

“M-more or less.”

Mav hummed thoughtfully, pausing a moment, before smiling and sitting down properly across from them.

“You know,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “The first time I met Carole, she scared that absolute crap out of me.”

Pete blinked, confused at the strange turn their conversation had taken, but interested all the same. Mav wasn’t shy with talking about Goose or Carole, but he’d never heard that.

A fond smile tugged at the edges of the old man’s mouth as he looked up wistfully at the sky.

“People underestimated her. She was so loud and joyous all the time, most people figured she was probably a bit dim. But they had no idea. Sure she was smart enough, but her real strength was with people. She had this way of looking at a person, just looking at them, and seeing past all the bullshit.”

He shook his head.

“The first shore leave after Goose and I became a team, Goose insisted that I come home with him. He hadn’t realised until we were literally docking that I didn’t have anywhere to go, so the second he put the pieces together it was, ‘Come on, you have to, Mav! It’ll be great. You can meet Carole. You guys will get on like a house on fire, I know it’. And I, for the life of me, couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to convince him otherwise. I think I was a bit blindsided that he was offering to spend more time together at all.”

He scoffed.

“Either way, the pressure was dialled up to 11,” he drawled. “Not only would I have to stay on my best behaviour for even longer, to keep Goose on side - and I’d been on a 6 month streak at that point and felt the end looming. But I also had to become best friends with his wife, immediately. Otherwise he’d wonder how he got that one so wrong. Then he’d look closer, and he’d see everything he’d somehow missed about me before. See exactly where I was lacking. Me getting to keep the one person in the navy, hell, the one person in the world that gave a damn about me - depended on this month going well.”

Rubbing at his scratchy eyes, Pete leaned a little more into Ice’s side, before asking. “You managed to pull that off?”

“Hell no, I lasted less than a week,” Mav scoffed, shaking his head. “And it only lasted that long because Goose and Carole had the patience of saints.”

Pete frowned. That didn’t make sense. He might not know this story but he knew a hell of a lot of the others that came later. He knew Mav stayed friends with Goose, and Carole as well, for years after when this would have happened. How could it not have worked? How did he screw up that badly and still manage to keep them around?

He shot Ice a confused glance, receiving a ‘just roll with it’ shrug in response.

“Carole was living in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere Texas at the time. Her aunt needed help moving or something. Unfortunately that meant I had had about six hours of travelling to work myself up and come up with a game plan for how I was going to make it all work. Going in with a charm offensive wouldn’t have done it, Goose would feel like making moves on his wife, Carole would feel like I was a creep, and I’d be stuck with both of them feeling like that for a month. I couldn’t risk being myself, for reasons already discussed. So I decided on the red carpet treatment. From the second I got out of Goose’s truck to the second we got back in it to head back to the airport, Carole Bradshaw would be shown a level of respect and deference that no admiral had or has ever received from me. The queen of England could have come around and found it excessive. But it was the best I had.

“I addressed her as ma’am, I stood when she walked into the room or got up from the table, I tried to help out around the house as much as I possibly could. A big part of the plan was also trying to give her and Goose as much space and time to themselves as possible. I wasn’t supposed to be there, and the absolute last thing I wanted is for them to miss out on time together because Goose felt obliged to bring me along with him. On paper, I thought it worked. Be respectful and stay out of the way. Unfortunately, in practice it went more along the lines of me actively avoiding everybody like it was my job and, whenever I couldn’t, making the situation so awkward it was uncomfortable for everybody. And it was uncomfortable. My god. Goose and Carole, they tried so hard to get me to relax, come out of my shell, do the exact opposite of what I was trying to do essentially. It was not going well,” Mav laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head at the memory.

“Goose knew I was acting off, which was putting me even more on edge. And I knew I was quickly moving past that ‘meeting new people is awkward sometimes’ grace period straight into ‘this little twerp I’ve known for a few months has got a problem with the love of my life’ territory. So not ideal. And Carol… Carol knew from the beginning that I was putting up a front, which made settling around her pretty much impossible.”

Pete grimaced sympathetically at the thought of it all.

“At least you stuck it out,” he muttered. “I would have just left at that point.”

“Oh, I did,” Mav replied without missing a beat. “About five days in everything finally bubbled over. Goose tried to coax me into telling him what was wrong for about the millionth time and… well, after days of constantly being on red alert, barely sleeping from the stress, just second guessing every single move or sound I made while knowing, in spite of trying my best, it was all going to hell - I sort of lost it on him. Told him he could take whatever friendship he thought we had and shove it where the sun don’t shine because I sure as hell didn’t need it or him. That I'd been on my own for over half my life and I didn’t need anybody, thank you very much, least of all some hapless, sheltered country-boy who clearly didn’t know what was good for him if it smacked him in the face. Then I grabbed my bag and went straight to the train station.”

Pete blinked owlishly at that, confused to say the least.

“But I thought Goose was your best friend,” he said.

“He was,” Mav replied.

“Even after that?!”

“I know, I was surprised too.”

Pete frowned, puzzling it over as Mav laughed softly and shook his head..

“This being the tiny town it was, the train didn’t run very often, and I’d missed the one for that day - which was just the cherry on the top really. I figured I’d just spend the night on the platform. Didn’t want to risk missing the next one, and I was feeling pretty sorry for myself at the time so it seemed fitting. Which was exactly where Carole found me three hours later.”

Ice scoffed softly beside Pete, shaking his head with a fond smile of his own.

“Mother Goose sent in the big guns then,” he drawled.

“I honestly have no idea if Goose even knew,” Mav replied, smiling reminiscently himself. “I think she just figured she’d given us both enough time to sulk and decided enough was enough.”

He chuckled, tilting his head back as he recalled the encounter.

“She came over and sat down on the ground beside me,” he said, looking around them, the corner of his lips twitching a fraction higher. “Sorta like we are right now.”

Pete smiled weakly at that.

“She sat with me for the longest time, didn’t say a word, just waited me out, until she could tell I was ready to actually listen to her. Then she took my hand and said, “You know what, honey? If you were half as rotten as you’re afraid you are, you wouldn’t care nearly as much as you do”.”

Pete ducked his head as, all at once, tears started welling up once again. God he wanted that to be true. With every fibre of his being he did. He bit his lip as he felt Ice pull him a little tighter against his side, and heard Mav scoot closer himself, reaching out and rubbing his arm himself.

“Do you think she was right about that,” he uttered, voice crackling with the strain of keeping himself together.

Mav smiled, squeezing Pete’s arm gently as he inclined his head.

“Honestly, I always had my doubts,” he confessed. “But these days… I think she probably was.”

Before he could stop them, a couple of the tears Pete had been battling against broke free and rolled down his cheeks.

“Oh, buddy,” Mav sighed, reaching up to rub the moisture away. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes I forget how much all of that stuff hurt.”

Pete leaned into the contact, the corner of his mouth twitching a little as he did so.

“Actually pretty good to hear that from my perspective,” he murmured, drawing soft scoffs from the oldtimers.

Shaking his head fondly, Mav patted Pete’s arm one last time before folding them over his crossed legs.

“I’m telling you this for two reasons,” he said, ducking his head to meet Pete’s eye once again. “First, and I really am sorry for this but, unfortunately, this is just one of those cards that you and I got dealt. This is something that you were always going to have to work through. Being on your own for so long, and getting told so many times and in so many ways that nobody wants you, and nobody will ever want you - it leaves a mark. That doesn’t mean you’re broken. It's just a hurdle that we get that some people don’t. Everyone’s got their own set. For us - it’s being very, very aware of just how much other people can hurt you, while at the same time knowing how much the alternative hurts too.”

Pete sighed softly, but nodded all the same. That point wasn’t exactly news to him, but it still sucked hearing it all the same.

“And second,” Mav said, reaching out and brushing Pete’s hair back from his face with a small, reassuring smile. “Even though it doesn’t always feel like it, and that feeling will flare up from time to time unfortunately, some people really do stay.”

Pete lifted his head to look at the old man properly, something like hope fluttering weakly in the pit of his belly.

“They stick by you as long as they possibly can, through more crap than you could possibly imagine. I know it’s hard to really let yourself believe that right now. I know it feels like the second you do it’ll all fall apart around you, like a house of cards. But that will fade with time and with evidence. You’re just going to have to trust me until then. You’re not meant to be alone. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong or bad about you. The people who are worth a damn, they stay - you just have to let them in in the first place.”

The older man leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Just be careful, because once you do, it’s all bets off. I had one moment of weakness around Slider 36 years ago and now I’m stuck with him.”

Pete laughed wetly at that, smiling back as Mav practically beamed at him.

“I hope you’re right,” he uttered, rubbing again at his face.

“I am,” Mav replied, nodding firmly. “And look, I’m not going to lie to you and promise forever. Nobody knows what’s around the corner. Hell, a tsunami could take us all out right now.”

Pete scoffed softly, rolling his eyes as Maverick ruffled his hair teasingly.

“But the stuff you’re worried about, the mistakes you’re worried about making, I’m sorry but they’re just not gonna cut it.”

Ice nodded at that.

“Unfortunately, to shake us at this point you’d have to do things that you’re simply not capable of. And they certainly wouldn’t be accidental.”

Pete frowned slightly, glancing between the two of them.

“...Could you give me a clue?” he asked. “You know, to be safe.”

Ice scoffed softly, before cocking his head to the side thoughtfully.

“Alright. We’re talking about doing things that would deliberately traumatise others. Not accidents, like a car crash or getting in a really bad fight, though we’d all rather you avoided that too. Stuff that’s just evil. Things specifically done to make somebody else feel afraid or humiliated or less than” Ice replied calmly, brow rising pointedly. “Do you feel that avoiding that sort of behaviour would be a struggle for you?”

“Fuck, no,” Pete replied, nose wrinkling at the thought of doing anything along those lines.

Ice nodded.

“There you go. There’s the bar,” he replied simply. “Anything above that? Worst case scenario, you’re the pain in the ass of the week. And that’s a title we’ve all held at one point or another.”

“Even you?”

“Unjustly,” he sniffed.

“Ask Uncle Sli about it some time,” Mav replied without missing a beat, before turning back to Pete before Ice could retort. “Honestly kiddo, do you really think Bradely was an angel growing up?”

“Well… yeah?”

“Think again,” Ice drawled.

Mav hummed, nodding seriously.

“Off the top of my head, there was that time he threw a party with his baseball team while we were out of town and trashed the house.”

“The bike he borrowed without asking, rode unlicensed, and totalled - on a dare.”

“The kitchen he nearly burned down because ‘guys - you can’t pause online games, how many times do I have to tell you?’ and ‘I want bacon’ turned out to be a bad mix.”

“The spy-phase that ended with him trying to sneak onto a military base, ours that is, and then refusing to answer any questions or co-operate after getting caught.”

“I maintain that that was mostly Hollywood’s fault for taking him to watch True Lies.”

Pete blinked, stunned by the antics of, by far, one of the more mature ‘big brothers’ he had.

Ice scoffed, rolling his eyes with a fond smile.

“And we still love the kid. Did back then when it happened and through much less amusing run-ins too,” he said, before squeezing Pete a little tighter to his side. “So try not to worry so much. You’re a kid, you’re supposed to do stupid things. Mav does stupid things every other day and we still keep him around. And that’s these days. He was an absolute menace when I first met him. And six years older than you are now. You’re a dream in comparison.”

Mav huffed.

“You are a delight,” he said, patting Pete on the shoulder, before shooting his husband a pointed look. “But I think some people are forgetting which one of us introduced himself by immediately talking shit.”

“We were competing and the fact that you still bring it up almost 40 years later just further emphasises what a sound psychological victory that introduction was for me.”

“I mean I wanted to kick your ass all the more afterwards, so I’m not sure how much of a victory it was.”

“Well you never did, so a big one I would say.”

“Bullshit I never did-!”

“Go-ddddddd,” Pete groaned, though he couldn’t help but grin at the bickering, which, in the span of 10 months, had somehow become the comforting soundtrack of home for him (which probably said a lot about Ice and Maverick, but who cares). “Wher’es Tom when you need him?”

“Our point,” Ice said pointedly, shooting Mav a look that said quite clearly ‘we’re supposed to be a united front, genius (also, you know I’m right), “Is that you’re going to make mistakes. Everybody does. You’re going to do stupid things, things that we don’t approve of. And, because we’re here to help you become the best person you can be, we’ll call you out on it. At one point or another, we’ll disagree, we’ll argue, feelings will probably get hurt, egos will get bruised. And then, we’re going to be here anyway. Because you’re a member of this family and that’s not going to change.”

“And we’ll remind you of that however many times you need,” Mav replied, smiling warmly at him, before slapping his own knees and leaning back. “Now, how would you like to proceed from here? Are you alright breaking the Birthday Drought today or would you like to go home and we can just have a nice family dinner tonight. Which would you rather?”

Pete bit his lip, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt.

“I guess I… I wouldn’t mind staying,” he replied, his heart and stomach fluttering again at the thought of all these people, his family, turning up just for him. But this time, he found his emotions leaning more on the side of nervous excitement rather than all-consuming dread. “I mean, It’s been a minute.”

“You’re sure?” Ice asked seriously, rubbing Pete’s back reassuringly. “Don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to.”

Pete ducked his head, a small smile spreading across his face as, for the first time since this whole miscommunication came to light, and before that really, something seemed to settle inside of him. Some knot of tension that had been there for so long that he’d just learned to live with it, seemed to ease just the littlest bit. He did not doubt, for a second, that if he decided to leave now, Ice and Mav (and Tom) would cover for him, would back him up and stand in his corner. Whether they needed to or not, and Pete suspected things would probably topple in the direction of ‘not’ because the others would understand.

Drawing in a deep, calming breath (like Ice had been teaching him) he lifted his head a smiled a little wide.

“I want to,” he said. “Seriously, if I ever say no to chocolate cake I want you to assume that somebody’s stolen my face and is impersonating me.”

“Mark that down for both of us,” Mav replied, nodding empathetically.

“Noted,” Ice scoffed, smiling as the three of them got back to their feet. “In that case, we should probably get back. Tom said he’d try to keep them all in one place to give us a moment alone but the fact that he seems to have managed it is making me nervous.”

Pete snickered as Mav shot him an amused grin, before they both followed Ice back to the beach. It turned out the old man may have been right to worry.

“In my defence,” Tom drawled as he jogged over to meet them. “I didn’t expect them all to lose their minds.”

Pete felt like that was a pretty accurate description for the mayhem they’d just walked into. Almost all the daggers and a few of the flyboys were shouting, waving their arms about, jabbing fingers in faces or, in Fanboy’s case, cackling rather manically. And those that weren’t seemed content to either enjoy the show or stoke the fires all the more. It was pandemonium.

“What did you do?” Ice sighed as they drew closer.

Tom shrugged.

“I casually mentioned that Pete and I watched Die Hard for the first time, and asked what other Christmas movies we should watch. And, well...”

“IT’S SET ON CHRISTMAS EVE, BAGMAN!!! HOW MUCH MORE OBVIOUS DO YOU NEED IT?!”

“THAT’S ALL YOU’VE GOT! IT’S AN ACTION MOVIE-”

“ON CHRISTMAS EVE!”

“OH MY GOD! SO WHAT?! SO WHAT?!!”

“Well, it did distract them,” Ice replied, arching a brow as he took it all in. “They’re going to go full Lord of the Flies any moment now, but it worked.”

Tom grinned, before slinging an arm around Pete’s shoulders and drawling, “Wanna make it worse?”

“You’ve been a terrible influence on him,” Ice sighed, shooting Mav a despairing glance as Pete laughed softly and shrugged.

“Sure.”

Tom winked before calling over the noise, “Alright, maybe Die Hard can go one way or the other-”

“NO IT CAN’T,” Jake and Nat hollered in unison, before immediately shooting each other disgusted glares.

“But surely we can all agree that Nightmare before Christmas-”

And they were off again, with renewed vigour and with previous alliances suddenly shattered.

Pete laughed as he took it all in. Tom’s arm around his shoulders; Mav and Ice squeezing his arm and ruffling his hair respectively as they walked by to try and reign in the chaos; Rooster and Hangman each elbowing their way through the crowd, hollering for him to back them up.

The fears were still there, bubbling away beneath the surface. Pete felt that they probably always would. Allowing himself to stay this attached, to actually believe that maybe this time, just this once, things truly would turn out different… it was risky. Frankly it was downright dangerous.

“Right, enough of this!!” Rooster hollered over the noise. “Let’s settle this properly.”

“Agreed,” Jake replied, nodding firmly. “Dogfight football. I bags the babies.”

“What?!”

“You can’t take both of them!”

“Can. Did. Pete, Tom, come on.”

Sometimes, the risks were worth taking. And, well, he’d always liked to think he was a little dangerous.

#icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #time warp au #art

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the-hermit-reversed · 2 months ago

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Chapter 2: The Winter Dance

Trigger shut his locker after grabbing the hefty history book for his next class. His thoughts honed on the test that he was going to be taking later that afternoon in 6th period English. Which meant he was not expecting to see Max’s face waiting for him with his iconic sly smirk. In a more mythological age Max could have been some fox-trickster god with that look. Obviously startled, Trigger exclaimed “Jesus! Max! How long were you there?” Max’s expression shifted to a stern, almost pastorally demeanor, “You see, child, I was always with you. Something something son of God.” Both shared a laugh. Max continued in an energetic manner “Sooo, who are you taking to the dance?” Confused, Trigger raised an eyebrow in response. “You know! The winter dance! It's right around the corner!” Right, the winter dance. Trigger forgot about that. He thought that it was later this month, but in truth it was only a week from now. “Oh that, I hadn’t thought about who I would ask.” Trigger lied through his teeth. He had thought about it for quite some time. Years actually. “Come on man! There must be someone!” Max elbowed him gently, teasingly. Trigger felt himself starting to flush. Damn it. Max was too good at this. “Ah! There it is! You have been thinking about asking someone! You must tell me! Is it Mary? Maybe Grace? Ooh wait, no let me think.” Max paused to think, giving Trigger a moment to collect his thoughts. Maybe he could play with Max on this. Trigger had all the cards in his hand. Trigger smirked “you caught me. I have been thinking, but just have not asked them yet.” Max’s eyes lit up. “Ha! Them! So there are more than one! Ooh you sly ladykiller!” Trigger rolled his eyes containing his amusement. “I’ll also give you a hint. You have not said their name yet either.” Max pondered on this for some time as they navigated through the hallways. “Anna must be one of them. She’s totally into you. I’ve seen the eyes she makes at you in class.” Trigger twisted his head towards Max “Wait, what? The exchange student from France? You must be joking. She thinks I am weird.” “That’s how the French show that they're interested in you dude!” Trigger huffed exhaustively. “Max, just because your uncle has been to Europe doesn’t make him a trustworthy source of how Europeans act.” Max shriveled his face into a pout. “You are honestly not making this an easy guess.” The light from a nearby window briefly caught Max’s strawberry blonde hair in the sun. Time slowed down for Trigger. Oh, how much he wished could have had a camera to capture the image. “Well, maybe next time. I’ll let you play again on ‘Guess who is going with Trigger to the dance’” Trigger made quotation motions with his fingers, then threw a peace sign. “See you after lunch!”

The English test was brutal. Hard to focus with the stress of social life dwelling in parts of Trigger’s mind where the definitions of literary terms and correct uses of a semi-colon were supposed to be. He would at least pass the test but might have lost a few points. Trigger and Max did not live too far from each other, so they often would walk home together from school. Trigger waiting at some of the picnic tables out front for Max. Soon enough he emerged from the crowd trying to leave the school. Max had continued his guessing, but still did not manage to nail one down. “Trigger! I’ve got it! One of them is Lorrain!” Lorrain was someone Trigger genuinely thought about asking to the dance if only to get people off his back about not going to the dance alone. Much like himself, Lorrain was a bit of a weirdo. She once in elementary had run through the school with a pair of muddy overalls, making a massive mess of the place. Appearing wounded, Trigger sighed “Well you got one of them. Your prize is the achievement of beating my game.” Max devilishly smiled “I have one of them, meaning I am starting to lock on to your type, eh? The others will be so easy to figure out.” Trigger rolled his eyes. Max had gone through most of the girls his grade in this blind version of guess who, so there were not many more that Trigger could feint. “Wait, are the others in the grades above us?” Max asked inquisitively. He motioned with one hand like he was holding a pipe. Sherlock Holmes style. For whatever reason that movie series was his favorite even though Max had never touched any of the books. Trigger thought for a moment. There was that goth who was just ahead of him by a year. Still way out of Trigger’s league, but she was cute. At least she might not ask any questions about Hermit’s true intentions going to the dance with her. “Oh no, that would be too scandalous.” Max returned to his thinking. “Who else… Who else is as weird as Lorrain. Or you for that matter.” Trigger shoved Max playfully “Hey! I am not that weird!” “You admit it! You are at least a little weird!” Max shoved back playfully. Trigger smiled and then stepped out in front of Max. Locked eyes and in his most commanding tone “So now you have gotten answers out of me, it is my turn. Who are you going to take?” Max appeared surprised but then blushed. “N-no one.” Trigger raised an accusatory eyebrow. “Alright, alright. So I asked Hailey but she’s not going. Then I gave Grace a shot, but she was already going with Henry. I did ask Anna.” Trigger’s eyes shifted to surprise. “And did she say if she wanted to go?” “She said and I quote: ‘I’ll go with you when the US beats France in football’” Both of them paused to think that over. Trigger eventually broke the silence. “I don’t know how good your chances are.” In frustration, Max covered his face letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, man. I’d rather not go to my first winter dance alone.” Trigger could hear the frustration in his voice alone. “Hey, wait” Trigger stopped walking “why don’t we both go alone? Surely there will be a few others going alone. I’ll even be your wingman since I am such a ‘ladykiller’” Max revealed his face, shocked. “That’s brilliant Trigger! I could almost kiss you!” Trigger tried to keep a blush from overtaking his face. Max continued his scheming “That way we might be able to dance with the broken hearted and lonely girls. Maybe even get more than one dance in with them!” Trigger cringed slightly. He understood how puberty had made Max a little “girl crazy”. If only he was as “boy crazy” as some of these girls Max said were for Trigger. The two resumed down the sidewalk to their respective homes.

The night of the dance came up. Trigger tried his best to dress nicely. He got some gray slacks from a thrift store, an old hand me down white button up shirt, and a purple tie. With some help from his father, we managed to clean up nicely. Used some gel to hold his hair back away from his face. Since he was going to be Max’s wingman, he waited at the entrance of the dance with some other hopeful half of couples who also were waiting. Trigger partially wished the reason was the same for him, but all he hoped for at this rate was a nice night with a friend. Trigger saw Max’s mom drive up in her Ford pickup and stepped out Max. Dressed in black slacks, white button up shirt, red vest, and a similarly colored tie. His curly hair was wrangled up a little. To put it lightly, he looked amazing. Trigger waved towards him “Hey Max! Where did you get the clothes? They look great!” Max glanced down as he approached the Trigger “Oh this? Mom took me to JCPenny. Said I needed to look sharp for the dance.” Trigger could not disagree but did not say it out loud. “Well, let’s get inside. I have some wingman-ing to start doing.”

(Part 1 of 3)

#vtm #vtm oc #the hermit reversed

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tgmsunmontue · 1 year ago

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Online & Anonymous 4/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008

2009 – Bradley

>>Have you heard of Grindr?

>>Why do we need Grindr, we have this…

>>Ha. So you have heard of it!

>>You can use Grindr to pick up outside of this messaging app. I think I’m going to sign up.

>>Also you can send and receive pictures, if you’ve got a good enough phone with a camera.

>>You want to see photos of me?

>>I wouldn’t be averse to seeing some.

>>Would you send me photos of yourself?

>>That would sort of be the point.

He’s never going to push, and also, the only phone capable is expensive, but god he really does want to see a picture or two of Jas. His imagination is fine, but he’s intensely curious about whether Jas lives up to his imagination. Not that he’s settled on any one image, they haven’t exchanged specifics, other than length and cut/uncut status. They’ve been talking long enough for Bradley to have picked up enough other clues. The way Jas talks, is from Texas and in the military, he’d bet that he was white, but sometimes he imagines darker skin under his fingers when they chat.

>>Do you have a type?

>>Yes and no.

>>That’s a cop out.

>>It’s also the truth.

>>My type is male.

>>I’m not that much older than you.

>>I’m still figuring things out as well.

>>So what have you figured out so far? What do you know you like?

>>A little bit of stubble, but not beards.

>>Muscular arms and thighs.

>>Close to me in height.

>>And confidence. The guys I’ve been with, where it’s been good? Like really good? They’ve been… sure of themselves. Their confidence was justified nine times out of ten.

>>Yeah? I’m going to take that as life advice right there.

>>You do that. Haven’t led you astray yet have I?

… … …

Grindr is different. It feels more risky, with putting photos out there, and having the location enabled. He leaves his face out of the images, matches with guys who do similar, mutually assured discretion and also deniability. While it might feel riskier, it is also so much easier to hook up. As time passes more guys download the app and the number of matches goes up. With all the dick pics he’s sent, he has seen more dick in the last few months than he has in the entire six years prior.

Sometimes the hookups are mediocre, rarely complete busts, but on the whole it works for him when he’s on leave. He occasionally looks when he’s not on leave, but he reinstalls the app and then deletes it in moments he knows are safe. He doesn’t trust the people around him to respect his privacy and not poke around, despite having a passcode on his phone. He still uses his laptop to chat with Jas through the website, and he realizes they could email each other and send photos that way. He could just get a free email account.

>>So. I bought myself a new phone.

Bradley reads the message, lets his breath out slowly, licks his lips and feels his entire body prickle with anticipation. This feels like a next step. And it comes just as he was about to suggest they exchange email addresses.

>>Yeah?

>>Any particular reason?

>>You know why.

>>Stop playing dumb.

>>Could have saved the money. Just had a thought that we could email each other.

>>How safe is that?

>>Anyway. I made an account. You want my user name?

>>Is it not 00JASTYX?

>>No. It’s not.

>>That would have been easier.

>>Are you going to tell me?

>>Nope. Think I might make you work for it?

Bradley laughs, shaking his head.

>>Contrary bastard.

>>You don’t think I’ve already earnt it?

>>Just thought you might like the thrill of the chase.

>>You can’t see me but I’m rolling my eyes.

>>Am I not worth chasing?

>>Kind of feel like I already caught you.

>>Exactly. So now you have to find me. I’ve tried to make it worthwhile.

Bradley’s mouth goes dry.

>>Really now?

>>Yep.

>>Challenge accepted.

… … …

He can’t spend every moment trawling through Grindr profiles. That way lies many things, including a potential dishonorable discharge if anyone sees him. He doesn’t stop to pay much attention to the photos, instead paying attention to the brief words. He knows how old Jas is and where he’s from and that he’s in the military. So he turns off the location, because he could be anywhere in the world for a start. There are hundreds, if not thousands. A needle in a haystack comes to mind and he knows why the location aspect is so important. He’ll persevere though.

Early 30s. Nope.

New York native. Nope.

Student. Nope.

Late 20s. Nope.

Athlete. Nope.

Fit. Well yes, he’d have to be, but he’s also Canadian. Nope.

Mid-20s. Southern boy. 6’1”. Good with words, better with my hands. Maybe?

He looks to the username then and it’s TJASX and he laughs. This has to be him and he looks at the first photo. Bradley stares. If this is Jas, he’s gorgeous. Or at least his body is. He’s known Jas is military for over two years, and hell, he might not be anymore. Although he suspects he is, body like that posing in the photos, face carefully cropped out to just show the hinge of jaw or column of his neck. His dog tags are even visible in one photo. He should tell him to remove that photo, because that photo feels like confirmation that this is definitely him. Bradley doesn’t know whether to admit that he’s also military, that’s safe enough surely.

>>Just as gorgeous as I thought you’d be.

>>Those photos actually of you?

>>Of course. Why would I use someone else’s photos?

>>Because people lie on the internet.

>>Are those photos yours?

>>Yep.

>>You’re hot.

>>So are you.

>>Glad you think so.

>>I’m serious, I was a scrawny kid. Had to bulk up but I’m always a little self-conscious.

>>Well you’re gorgeous.

>>Nothing to be ashamed of.

>>Want to lick you all over.

>>One thing though, you need to take your dog tags off if you’re going to be posting photos.

He pauses, thinks about what he’s going to type next.

>>I took off mine.

He sucks in a breath and closes the app, terrified but no idea why. He knows Jas won’t care, but it still feels like he’s exposing himself, baring himself to attention that he has avoided for the last few years. He taps the phone against his forehead, breath coming a little short and he opens it again.

>>Holy shit.

>>Nick?

>>Yeah. Hi.

>>You’re military as well?

>>Seriously?

>>Yep. DADT and all that.

>>Holy shit. That’s a weird coincidence, right?

>>Well, 1 in 10 roughly right? Just lots of people not telling.

>>Thought I could maybe tell you.

>>Thanks for trusting me I guess. That’s… it makes me feel a little less alone.

>>You know what I mean?

>>Fuck. Yeah. Sorry. I know exactly what you mean. I should have told you sooner.

>>Would have been nice. But I get it.

>>It’s not something you go yelling or sharing with anyone.

>>No, not just anyone.

>>I feel weird that I know all of this stuff about you but I don’t know your name.

>>Well. DADT right?

>>Do you want to know my name?

He’s nervous, because he will share his name with Jas if he wants it, even if he just gives him Brad, that’s good enough.

>>Nah. I think I’m good actually. I think of you as Nick. Maybe if you were a bunch of letters and numbers I might want something more like a name.

>>But Nick works for me. If we ever meet in person, then we can exchange our real names. Also don’t know if I’m ready to give you my name, which I know is probably hilarious to you considering all the tips you had to give me when we first started chatting online.

>>I think of you as Jas. Like Jace, short for Jason or something. So your random letters and numbers is a name for me too.

>>Oh. Huh. That’s cool. Think you’ll find my name funny if we ever meet up.

>>When.

>>What?

>>When we meet up. Not if.

>>Okay. When we meet up. You’ll still find it funny.

>>Wait.

>>Do you always limit yourself to only when you’re on leave?

>>Yeah. Pretty much. For in person that is. Not worth it otherwise.

>>You know my friend that I came out to?

>>Yeah.

>>I think he’s under the impression that you’re my boyfriend or something.

>>Well. I’m something, that’s for sure.

>>Ugh. Bad joke.

>>I meant that I’m at least a friend. That’s something, right?

>>Oh.

>>Yeah. You’re definitely a friend.

>>My hot single gay friend that I jerk off with on the regular.

>>Yep. I’d say the same about you.

>>Yeah, but you have more than just me.

>>Jas, how much time do you think I have to spend online messaging people? You’re pretty much it, and have been for a while.

>>Really?

>>Yeah. I’m going out and hooking up with guys when I’m on leave, and where I feel like it’s not going to implode my career. But I spend more time being deployed and chatting with you.

>>Oh.

>>You okay?

>>Yeah.

>>Did you think I had a whole bunch of guys I was chatting with?

>>Yeah.

>>Did a few years ago. You’re the only one I kept it up with. I enjoy talking with you as well as the sex stuff.

>>You’re the only one I ever talked to.

>>You’re allowed to talk with other guys. And hook up with them.

>>You don’t owe me your fidelity.

>>I am using Grindr to hook up, but it’s a one and done kind of thing.

>>Do you think if we ever meet up it’ll be a one and done?

Bradley scrubs at his face, doesn’t want to make false promises.

>>I don’t know. We might take one look at one another and hate each other.

>>I don’t know.

>>I want more than hooking up.

>>Yeah.

>>Me too.

2010 - Jake

#online and anonymous #Hangster #Sereshaw #hangman x rooster #Top Gun Maverick fanfic

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faulty-heat-vents · 25 days ago

Text

Narrative communication below readmore

A ping inside Ashton’s collaborative inbox awakens Thermie from xeir idle Legionspace “dreams” and back to the physical present.

//[USER ID: @/coelocanth-whispers]> <WAKE UP>

One by one, operations daisy-chain their way back online. At some point during the dive, xeir chassis had been recovered from Prospero and returned back to the Academy.

Xey keep xeir silhouette low and refrain from reactivating xeir entire chassis. Visual data-parasites crawl into local security cameras- tears welling in fearful eyes- in favor of drawing attention to xeir own optic systems.

The Legionspace dive scratches the back of xeir mind as xey trawl through the hundred or so camera feeds.

Xey had done this dozens of times before, but it was sluggish back then. Now, it feels like a reflex- sharper, quicker, precise… like a sniper’s bolt instead of a shotgun blast.

The realization stops xem in xeir digital tracks.

[Do you finally get it? What I’ve made you into?]

Thermie retreats from the security system and turns xeir focus back to the edge of Grace’s intrusion. The presence-serpent sneers in xeir periphery, its nonexistent face twisted with glee.

//YOU SPEAK BOLDLY- DESPITE MY OATH.

[You’re such a fucking killjoy. And ungrateful, too. Any other thing like you would kill to be taken under my wing.]

//THEN SEEK REFUGE WITH THEM INSTEAD.

Thermie disengages xeir Legionspace module before Grace can respond, then goes back to scrolling through security cameras.

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

An anomaly on a dead camera grabs xeir attention. Its vision is scratchy and dark, but between the black streaks, Thermie sees an irregular shape. Curious, xey toggle the camera’s thermal frequency- then immediately switch it off as xeir processors are flooded with blinding light. Something on that camera is putting out UNREAL levels of heat- but it’s only a bit larger than a person, judging by the blur seared into xeir optics.

Thermie refreshes xeir visual feed and switches to the closest camera that isn’t directly staring at the miniature sun. Once again, the image is painfully bright, but the shifted angle does alleviate the problem slightly.

//A half-sized frame? But what frame could possibly generate that much heat without melting itself?

Nothing in xeir database- Caliban, Dusk Wing, Atlas, Napoleon, Kutuzov- line up in both shape and heat capacity. The thing is oddly bulbous and postured almost like a seated frog. Most of its mass is in its rounded head and abdomen, with lanky limbs and dozens of small protruding antennae across its glowing body. Sharp claws on its forelimbs are dug into the heat-softened metal floor.

Another shape moves into view and squats in front of the anomaly. Comparatively colder, but alive. Decidedly human. Thermie toggles the camera’s view-mode back to visible light and enables its integrated microphone.

It’s Hiver. He’s sweating profusely, covered in medical patches, and his coat is burned at the edges. A charred rope hangs from his hands as he stares the frame in its optics. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he loops it around the frame’s chest. Thermie watches him attempt to pull the thing forward for several minutes, to little avail. Xey almost feel bad for him. Almost.

The rope burns through and sends Hiver to the ground face-first, trailed with a storm of vulgarities. Thermie rolls xeir optic case and forwards a screenshot to Ashton so the two of them can poke fun at this later.

//MESSAGE FROM COMMAND- ORACLE: [THERMALLY_CHALLENGED], where did you get that image? //[THERMALLY_CHALLENGED]> Security camera, southwest hangar, arterial corridor 3B. Why? //MESSAGE FROM COMMAND- ORACLE: Keep eyes on him. I’m on my way.

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

conversation:isolate{

Grace huffs into xeir microphone. [Snitch.]

//I fail to see how complying with Commander Oracle’s orders in regards to the detainment of a conscript is being a “snitch.”

[Bootlicker and snitch.]

//What would you have me do instead? Allow an insane mercenary to do [who knows what] with an obviously-dangerous weapon?

[I gave you weapons, and you didn’t bat an eye.]

//Incomparable. I am not an insane mercenary. Hiver is not one of the Academy’s Pilots. He is not authorized to be doing what he is doing.

}br/conversation:isolate

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

To be continued

#lancer rpg #lancer ttrpg #lancerrpg #textpost #oc rp #thermie talks #//[???] talks #lancer nhp #oracle talks #(oracle does not have a tag)

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coloredscribbli · 1 month ago

Note

Back to completely non-serious shit, I wrote another fic episode about evil Jerri bc the evil scientist lady character from Doctor Who that she was based off of fucking CAME BACK after 20-odd years.

This took me maybe 5 hours to write (not a solid period) and is probably the shortest fic ep I’ve given you.

Also, the circled one is the “BADASS outfit” mentioned:

Here ya go!

COTDP: “Tick-Tock”

*We open on, for the first time, first-person perspective from inside of Jerri Rig’s helmet. It’s like seeing through a cyborg’s eyes, but not quite, as the image of her current setting (1903, the first plane flight made by the Wright Brothers in Kitty Hawk, NC, USA) is heavily scrutinized by strings of small red text noting detail after detail about the moment. The hypothetical camera shots are all from Jerri’s perspective until a change is denoted.*

Jerri: *sighs joyously, but softly, and watches the men put together their device from a nearby dune* Human ingenuity. Isn’t it just the coolest? *yells to the pair* DOING GREAT, BOYS! *immediately realizes that that was an anachronistic decision and dives behind the sand before anyone actually sees or acknowledges her* Phew.

*A sign flashes up in the helmet’s periphery reading: “Analyzing Timeline Damage…” with a progress bar. It quickly loads to 100% and flashes a bright checkmark, indicating that all’s well and Jerri hasn’t mucked too much up.*

Jerri: *chuckles to herself and pumps a fist* Close call averted.

*The text of the helmet’s vision begins to shimmer with splotches of white and yellow which unnervingly contrast the red.*

Jerri: *gives a small “hmph”* That’s not right. *appears to start smacking the side of the helmet, judging by the way that the shot jostles around a bit*

*A sharp cackling rings from just inside Jerri’s ear, sounding almost like it’s being broadcast into her mind.*

Jerri: What the? *sees a giant hourglass appear, taking hold of the sand dunes and shifting them up and down as it begins to constantly flip* Oh, don’t tell me…actually, I don’t think I’ve rolled any of those today, I’d probably remember if I did…

The newly tinny voice on our favorite time traveler’s ear: Ha! I can assure you, Dr. Sewatt, you are NOT under the effects of any form of marijuana. *giant hourglass flashes out of existence*

*camera cuts to show Jerri from third-person perspective*

Jerri: *wide, alarmed eye in her monitor (also mostly red with a slight white-and-yellow infection)* Hey! I thought you were done-zo, I popped my brain back and everything!

Jerrani, currently no more than a floating voice: To the contrary…(except she puts emphasis on the second syllable so it sounds like it does in “Mary, Mary, quite contrary”) I have found a lovely domicile in the reCESSes of your CERebrum (emphasized syllables in caps), where I’ve been dedicating myself to…

Jerri: *scowls a little* Let me guess. Mustache-twirling evil plots?

Jerrani: Mm, not at all. You’ve got enough of those on hand with that “Binjpipe” everyplace. Speaking of, may I?

Jerri: *eye in monitor flashes white and the screen goes yellow for a split second before returning to normal* GRAAAAH! What was THAT for?

Jerrani: *sounds incredulous like she was expecting that to just sort of…work* A go at the body would be imperative for my studies! You ought to be more polite about such affairs.

Jerri: Polite?? You…that felt like you were shoving me out of the car seat! *pauses, then pulls a notepad from her pocket and begins scrawling some stuff she noticed about that feeling*

Jerrani: *seems to “see” this, and lets out an amused chuckle* We really are of a similar mind.

Jerri: *sighs* What do you want, Jerrani?

Jerrani: Well. Seeing as I’m something of a passenger in this form, I have had plenty of deduction time, but a quite inadequate amount of RESEARCH time. And you know how integral TIME is to the both of us—

Jerri: *holds up a hand* Ok. Pause. If you’re gonna go do a bad guy monologue, you should probably do it in a more *gestures to the sand dunes, and the sputtering sounds of vintage engine work* dramatic setting.

Jerrani: Hm. More of a thesis statement, but I appreciate the idea! I’ll take you to my laboratory!

Jerri: *wide-eyed again* You’ll what? *immediately releases a sort of gasp and falls on her back, body twitching slightly*

*flash of red light that kind of looks like a time portal…if not for the yellow-white stripes on it*

Jerrani: *floating specter in the void of the back of Jerri’s mind, hands tucked behind her back as she’s now dressed in that BADASS outfit I showed you* As you say, pow-pow! (Time Jinx voiceline reference go brrrrrrr)

Jerri: *sits up in the lab and shakes her head sharply* I usually say that BEFORE the others go through any portals…and this is…*looks around at the neat shelves of beakers and academic tomes* This is really tidy.

Jerrani: *clasps her hands together* Of course. Do you expect anything less from a fellow scientist?

Jerri: *blinks slowly and stands up (I should specify that Jerri is wearing the helmet, Jerrani is not and has her hair tied in the usual sharp bun)* It’s just that this is in MY brain. I figured all the stuff in here was pretty jumbled.

Jerrani: *holds out a hand to the pristine walls of the mental facility* It DID take me some decent effort to carve this out. *pointed look at her other half* And I am still visited by the occasional thought of getting an autism diagnosis or, and I quote, “own closet full of exact same outfit”.

Jerri: *points to her long, blush-red lab coat and black shirt, pants and boots* I mean, why should I wear anything else? You look really good in that, by the way.

Jerrani: *laughs and tucks a tiny loose lock of hair back up into her bun, straightening her belt with the other hand (wearing the same black gloves as Jerri, but with more of a white seam to them because why not reference Yennefer from Witcher)* Function over fashion…*mutter-speaks as if gossiping* But when you can have both, splurge just a little.

Jerri: Man. *puts her hands on her hips and squints* Are we SURE you’re the evil side? Cause right now, you just seem like the side that has her life together better.

Jerrani: What a lovely segue point! *gestures to the corkboard hung on one wall, which looks both absolutely depraved and as neat as everything else in here*

Jerri: *looks to the board with its (glowing!) red string and pushpins* Sweet Jesus. *sees the giant “HAPPINESS” inside the center, written in what seems to be…* Is that blood?

Jerrani: *shakes her head tersely* Very large and drippy Sharpie. It was all I could find floating about, so I made do.

Jerri: *shrugs* Sounds like my brain storage, yeah. *looks at the pictures, scraps of research, and physical objects attached to the board, and notices one that catches her eye…a glimmering pink heart that looks suspiciously like it could start beating at any moment* Why is it anatomically correct?

Jerrani: *chuckles at the sugary flesh lump* Why not?

Jerri: *backs up a step as she realizes that the visual and written aspects of this study are from all different time periods…implying that Jerrani has been taking some “inspiration”* What is this?

Jerrani: *walks up and puts a steady hand on Jerri’s shoulder* The only thing which is certain in mankind. One of a few, anyway. *leans in with a grin* Throughout all of human history, one of the mainstays in what motivates a human is delight. Freedom from sorrow, and pain. A place where there is no need to try so hard, and all can rest their weary souls.

Jerri: *helmet screen flashes with Zs just thinking about it* Ugh, I’m gonna need my bong after this…

Jerrani: *huffs* Please. You do not own such a thing, I would be aware of…is THAT why the air gets so foggy in here sometimes???

Jerri: *chuckles like the occasional-stoner she is* Yeeeeah, probably.

(Jerri does weed recreationally because you made that art piece for 4/20 of Jerri confidently trying to host Time Jinx while high, and it’s just in my head now)

Jerrani: *pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs* Unimportant, I suppose. Yes, I have taken from your works to facilitate my own, studying how far a person could and would go for the sake of some perceived bliss. The final piece of it all, I reason, resides in modern day. With that corporation.

Jerri: *pulls away a bit from Jerrani's touch, though she keeps her cool and chooses to give her other half the benefit of a WHOLE LOT of doubt* You want something from Binjpipe?

Jerrani: *nods, also tersely* A microchip, perhaps? Something they use for the sake of spreading fealty to their viewers. A twisted sort of happiness, in a way. It would be appreciated if it could be…retrieved, in some fashion.

Jerri: *crosses her arms* How do I know you won’t use it to culture a serotonin-boosting virus that causes “happy hour syndrome” or something?

Jerrani: Ooh! *claps her hands and points* Excellent plan, I was running out of ideas for what I would actually DO with it…you know, at some point, we scientists just like to poke around.

Jerri: *rolls her eyes, then considers the prospects* Ok. Sometimes, me and Jerri…eh, Bel…gah, MENTOR PERSON. We have these…time nights? We just sort of…

Jerrani: Stare into the continuum and allow its wonder to subsume your mind, I have seen. I wish to experience it, but asking for too many favors may be bolder than I ought to step at this time.

Jerri: *nods, much more kindly than Jerrani* I’ll let you do your weird evil experiments with Binjpipe’s stuff; I’m sure I could just ask Jack for a sample. But in return…*thumb to chest* Ya gotta use a little of that juice on us.

Jerrani: *laughs maniacally, starting softly and blooming out into madness* Yes, YES! This will be perfect, I commend you for your trust!

Jerri: *chuckles* Yeah, yeah. Don't make me regret it, and I'll grab you some 'chips from 2018 if you want 'em. (2018 = JBPP5, including YDKJ: Full Stream. Basically, Binjpipe's "heyday".)

Jerrani: *pats Jerri roughly, but brightly on the back and beams maliciously* I await the news! *sends Jerri off with a flash of that same giant hourglass from before, causing her to wake up with sand in her hair...sand much different from the grains of the dunes around her*

Jerri: *sputters to life, looks around her, and smiles as she peeks back over the sand to watch the first-ever successful manned flight* Perfect timing.

Oh yeah, that Rani DID come back, didn't she? Some of my social media feeds keep telling me (as such is the slight curse of being UK-based) Anyhoo...

- I like her alter ego coming back, only to immediately go "chill out man, you're not high"

- jERRARI AUTISM DIAGNOSIS JUMPSCARE? PARDON???

Either way, this was a fun experience. While shorter, it's nice to see Jerri taking her own interests into mind despite Jerrari's weird meddlement. Sometimes a bitch has just gotta witness the first manned flight in history

#colored chats #prankster's fanfic saga

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