#Like this isn't even getting into the fact that like

[roosterforme]

Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat." 

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend." 

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board. 

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

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

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck. 

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there. 

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up. 

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered. 

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he wanted in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too!  A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking." 

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense. 

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall. 

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host. 

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again. 

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more? 

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back? 

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID." 

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard. 

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties. 

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone. 

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again. 

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him. 

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here. 

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

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

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone. 

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb. 

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this. 

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him. 

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

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

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

[kdinjenzen]

So with all the stuff going on around Nintendo Vs Pocketpair I feel like people are missing the point of what's going on.

And this article actually finally brings up the biggest point: Nintendo has 1000s of patents and chooses not to enforce them all on everyone.

The idea that, quoting the article and Serkan Toto, "Nintendo's sweeping list of patents means it likely "could have sued half of the gaming industry back in 2017," …so like WHY NOT DO THAT?

There's a million reasons to not do it for Nintendo but TLDR is it's just bad business for them to do so.

The real take away is -what has PocketPair/Palworld done- that has brought out Nintendo to start enforcing these things in this particular situation?

A lot if you pay attention to PocketPair/Palworld's marketing and social presence. They threw rocks at Nintendo, so Nintendo is finally pushing back.

Now I'm not going to fully go to bat for Nintendo and say "they are a good company" because there's no such thing truly…

But in most cases with Nintendo, they C&D folks multiple times before even thinking of escalating anything to real legal trouble. Which is kinder than most companies.

The final thought of the article says that Nintendo may feel "threatened" by PalWorld but… I don't buy it.

Pokemon is THE highest grossing franchise in the world… ever… of all time. It's total revenue is around $100 BILLION with a B.

PalWorld, even at it's height, didn't even come close.

The aspects that I think Nintendo decided to act upon in their mind for this is the brazen bold rudeness and shit talking that happened on social media/marketing with PocketPair/Palworld.

PLUS the fact that Pokemon fans were also quick to be like "bruh, even if this isn't stolen it's obviously design lifted" for a lot of Palworld's Pals.

Add in the fact that both Microsoft and now Sony have pulled PalWorld onto their platforms… Nintendo is going to notice and get mad.

The truth is that PocketPair is an indie dev… with major AAA studios behind it now in a lot of ways. Which actually hurts PocketPair in a sense.

Nintendo tends to ignore indie stuff and has actually collabed with many indie studios before in major ways, so they aren't anti-indie.

Nintendo is OLD SCHOOL and expects a little bit of respect.

Nintendo has not taken action against pretty much any of the other true new Tiny Critter Collecting Indie IP that have popped up, a lot of them are ON Nintendo platforms and have had Nintendo feature them in directs…

But PocketPair threw rocks. Nintendo easily saw this as disrespect, but could be ignored.

What CAN'T be is the outcry from their own fanbase to "look into things" with PalWorld to see what, if anything, was lifted from Nintendo directly.

And Nintendo did. They took over a year to look into it.

This isn't Nintendo doing a knee jerk reaction, they went over things and took their time to research what PalWorld and PocketPair were doing.

Nintendo isn't stupid. They don't pick fights for no reason.

Regardless of if you LIKE Nintendo, or your feelings on a big company taking on a little company… Nintendo is very likely on the right side of business, IP, and patent law here.

Nintendo -losing- here would be, actually, really bad for small folks more than big guys in the long run.

Adding in the fact that PocketPair launched a generative Ai art game on top of all that…

This feel like, yes, Nintendo is flexing in a lot of ways but… they chose who to flex on and not to flex on -everyone-… so there seems to be a solid reason as to -why-.

Again the real take away is that IF Nintendo could have sued half of the gaming industry (as of 2017) with all the patents they have … why didn't they and WHY are they choosing to sue PocketPair/Palworld -now-?

Because that's more important than anything else.

[lnfours]

Hi baby! Saw you need some inspiration and I thought, do you know the early stages of dating? Like, you are getting to know the person and there are aspects you don't expect and surprise you and I imagined the first time reader realises how much clingy Lando can be and it's just cute and lovey dovey 🥺 maybe he is sick or something and turns into a giant baby

hello, my love!!! 🥹 it's been a while, i missed you sm!!! i hope you're doing well! <3

also, i can totally see lando turning into a big baby when he's sick, and even when he isn't 😁

blurb day to cure my writers block

it was early morning when lando's name lit up your phone, a soft buzz following his text. you knew he landed late last night and when you called him just before bed he sounded a bit nasally, almost like he was catching a cold.

sure enough, the text you read on the screen confirmed your suspicions.

would you kill me if i asked to reschedule our lunch date? i'm feeling like i got hit by a bus 😩

you immediately texted him back, fingers typing quickly on the screen.

not at all! do you need anything? i can stop at the store and come by, maybe make some soup if you're feeling up to it ❤️

he felt guilty for canceling the date you two had planned out before he left, especially because he had been away for weeks. his head was pounding and his sinuses were all stuffed up, but as he read your message back to him, he couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face. the sweet words making his heart jump up to his throat.

depends, does the chef also provide cuddles upon request? 🤔

i'm sure they'd be able to make special accommodations, just for you 😌

oh, he was on cloud nine...

lovely, see you soon? ❤️

see you soon ❤️

you threw on the first pair of sweatpants and hoodie you could find before grabbing your things and rushing out the door, making your way to the store. after browsing the medicine isle for all different kinds of treatments and debating on wether or not to splurge for the extra strength medicine, which you did, you grabbed the ingredients to make the soup. the same recipe your mom used to make for you whenever you were feeling under the weather, the one that worked like a charm.

and shortly after, you were knocking on the door to his apartment. smiling sympathetically when he opened the door with tired eyes and a small smile, the hood of his black hoodie pulled over the mess of brown curls. he looked tired, and he definitely looked sick.

"'ve got every medicine i could find," you said, pulling all the packages out from the bag and placing them onto the counter, "and the ingredients for the soup my mom used to make."

he sat in the stool at the kitchen island, head resting on his hand as he watched you open one of the packets of pills. you popped one out of it's foil casing, turning around and grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water before sliding them towards him, "here, this should help with the head and stuffy nose."

he nodded, taking the pills before reaching out to you now that you were in arms length. you let him pull you closer, slightly giggling and wrapping your arms around him as his head rested on your stomach.

you had heard that men were big babies whenever they were sick, but with lando it seemed... different. almost like he had been hiding the fact that he enjoyed cuddling into you, not wanting to scare you off in the beginning stages of your relationship.

but you didn't mind, not one bit. you liked this, and you would've stayed like this for the rest of the day if you didn't have a recipe to start.

his words were muffled into your sweatshirt as he softly spoke, voice gravely, "thank you."

you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his hoodie-clad head, "'course,"

he picked his head up and you were met with the same grey-green eyes you were met with at the door, this time they screamed sleep deprived. you tucked the curls back underneath the hood, "wanna go lay on the couch while i start this? i'll join you when 'm done,"

he nodded, moving slowly towards the couch before flopping down, grabbing the blanket from the back panels and getting comfortable. he flipped the tv on as you tried your best not to be loud with the pots and pans, cautious of his pounding head.

and when the soup was finally at the stage where it had to be left to boil for hours, you made your way into the living room. you smiled softly at his cheek pressed against the couch cushion, eyes closed as he finally drifted off to sleep. you carefully joined him on the couch, stirring him awake shortly as he pulled you closer, legs intertwining with yours and his head falling to your chest.

the moment you realized you were slowly, but surely, falling in love with him. willing to do anything and everything for him as long as he was yours.

[mieczyhale]

if you actually cared about palestinians, if you actually wanted to help people in gaza, you would donate to accredited organizations that are actually making a difference

throwing your money at every gofundme you get sent is performative, it's ignorant, it's a real 'head empty' move. something a child with no internet knowledge or common sense would do.

and to continue to defend doing that just shows that you don't actually care about helping people in gaza. you just don't want to be wrong. you don't want to admit that maybe you've been wasting your own money and the money of those who follow you and follow the links you share

you can't vet gofundme's. 'reverse image search' isn't actually vetting. and you can't trust every person on tumblr who says 'trust me!'

i can't believe any of this actually has to be pointed out in the first place, let alone driven home repeatedly because y'all refuse to even CONSIDER you JUST MIGHT be wrong. that you just might have fallen for propaganda and lies designed to hit your desire to do right, do good, and help (falling for those things btw is common. it's easy. you're not bad for getting caught up in it, but i am judging you if you refuse to consider that might be where you are.) (this actually applies to gofundme scams AND whatever heinous antisemitic alternate universe you're living in due to the non-facts you eat for every meal)

i'm not a zionist

i can't be. i'm not jewish.

but i am pro-peace, pro-two state solution, pro jewish self determination, pro palestine's continued existence, anti-ANYONE dying, and beyond fucking tired of y'all's bullshit

stop being fucking stupid

stop throwing your money in the trash

stop acting like your hate isn't hate

stop acting like you're on some fucking high horse and you have all the facts despite actually knowing absolutely fucking nothing because you refuse to listen to a single real non-token jew. you're antisemitic. i don't care that you don't think you are. you are. so many of you just are. and you don't get to decide you're not. just like a racist doesn't get to decide they aren't racist. if people in a group are calling you something there just might be a fucking reason for it, kathy

re-learn your internet safety, turn your brain back on, hop off the hate bandwagon, educate yourself beyond surface level shit the internet presents you with, make informed decisions based on facts, do things that will ACTUALLY help people in gaza.

be fucking better. do fucking better.

[xclowniex]

Had my first antisemitism whilst dating.

My tinder suddenly fucked out on me and said my profile was under review as it had been reported. I ended up emailing to see what was wrong as I've been talking to someone who I am really getting along with.

And turns out my account was reported for a message I sent to a different person, and I managed to get the customer help person to tell me the message.

During me and this antisemites conversation, she asked me what my plans were for the weekend and I mentioned I had synagogue and a challah making class. I had not mentioned Palestine or Israel to this person. That is all I mentioned, shul and challah baking.

That was the message that was reported.

And like, I know that she just didn't want to date anyone religious as well, I have jewish selected on the bit where you can add your religion so its visible on my profile, as well as the fact that you can unmatch with people and not report them. If she assumed I was a secular jew and realized I'm a religious jew she could literally have unmatched. And I do totally understand if she just wasn't looking for anyone religious. People are allowed to have their preferences that is not an issue for me at all.

But no, instead she reported my message of me mentioning I'm Jewish. And because I hadn't mentioned anything about Israel or Palestine, I know it wasn't because I'm zionist. She didn't know that. She just saw that I'm Jewish and assumed I must hate Palestinians which isn't even true.

Jokes on her my account was given back to me as obviously there was nothing which broke tos with my message. But it does sting and worsen my fear that being jewish is going to make dating harder for me.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 2

Please read Part 1 first! G/N. 4.6k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

As far as first impressions go, yours went terribly. Gun can count on no hands the amount of people that have spoken to him like you did and lived to tell the tale.

Make no mistake, the sum total of which is zero. Zero spoke to him like that and lived to tell the tale.

It's like you have no manners and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

But, he figures, he's finally doing his GED after the whole murderous stint and juvie and light dabbling in gang wars. Maiming a fellow classmate on the first day would leave an even worse first impression with the rest of the class than yours with him, therefore he should really try to behave himself.

Besides, he would never hear the end of it from Goo if he dropped out, or worse got kicked out, so he picked his battles and took your insults as best he could. 

Somehow miraculously managed to hold back from reaching across the screen to give you a well deserved ass whooping when you asked him if he was on the verge of a mid-life crisis. He schooled his face and took a drag of his cigarette instead.

At least, if nothing else, you're entertaining.

You also reminded him that small talk was a thing when you asked what he liked to do for fun. He couldn't remember the last time anyone asked, if anyone even did, although you don't really make this sort of conversation in his line of work and it is hard for Gun to find time to make chit chat with someone as he's usually the one brutally assaulting them in a fight.

And he had such good intentions with enrolling in school again so why not tell you he likes gaming. 

That's a perfectly Normal hobby, right? 

Even as he says those words, they stick in his throat like he's confessing something shameful and it comes out strangled and strange.

He moves on to more familiar territory by reframing his bloodlust as training and martial arts, which also sounds very Normal to Gun's ears.

A few more things that he can barely remember are mentioned to present himself as a very Normal individual and he isn't embarrassed to admit to himself he's pleased with how this has gone.

After all, the majority of his working day is spent with Goo and Goo is, to put it politely, an unhinged dipshit, and their conversations usually also have that kind of vibe. Gun is aware enough to watch his tongue in this conversation with you, and the fact you haven't looked terrified or called the police can only work in his favour.

What piqued his curiosity most of all though, is your threat to kick his ass.

(On Tekken, but still.)

So much confidence in your own ability, so much faith in your skills.

(On Tekken, but still.)

Alas, that night he finds out it's misplaced and you have severely overestimated himself and/or underestimated him.

But still. 

He remains curious about you.

You show absolutely no fear, no ulterior motive, no nothing, in the way you speak to him and seem to have latched on to him rather than anyone else in the class, and Gun is... 

Charmed.

He finds you oddly endearing.

Then when he sees the back of your head as he makes his way into the classroom for the first time and decides to sit next to you, the way you blatantly check him out doesn't hurt either.

People ogling Gun isn't anything new, but what is new is how much he likes it from you.

He makes up his mind to keep his seat next to you. Even if your gaze does linger a moment too long on his hair and makes him wonder if he used enough gel on it when he styled it that morning.

And although you caught him doodling and insult his masterpieces repeatedly - you also balanced it out by helping him with Literature, which truth be told, he is extremely grateful for. He forgives your missteps and your teasing.

Over time, Gun finds that he likes your company. Traits that would be annoying as shit with other people he finds sweet with you, including your unrefined taste in coffee.

As a bonus, you also don't balk at the tidbits of his life he shares. In fact it should really be a little troubling how grey your morals are, how easily you take it in stride for someone that seems like a normal well-adjusted(ish) civilian.

All in all, this never happens. Ever.

Never has anyone held his attention like you do, and for him to test the waters like he has done.

Gun likes to think he has good judgement, takes very calculated risks. This, he decides, is worth pursuing. Exploring.

With not so much a leap of faith but maybe just a tiny hop, Gun opens up his home to you.

.

.

.

.

You think you're in love with Gun Park.

This realisation hits you at 5am, when you're lying in his bed and he has done the gentlemanly thing of taking the sofa. It hits you because only a few hours ago, he had pulled you into his lap, looked at you and held you so tenderly then didn't kiss you.

The fact that he hadn't kissed you, and you're in love with a very questionable person sends you into a mental crisis.

Fuck.

He's secretive enough, letting you in on various elements of his life and you manage to piece together that he can only be up to no good.

There's no shades of grey in his life, only copious amounts of crimson from bloodshed, and a twisted sense of morals and principles he lives by.

You know by now he hangs around far too much with someone called Goo, who sounds like the personification of a headache and annoys him to no end but also seems to be the only friend he has. Speaks too highly of a Charles that you know is shady despite never having met the guy. There's also an Eli that he mentions like he's the one that got away.

You can live with all of that and the questionable amount of hair product he uses.

What you are in fact struggling to get to grips with is:

This man lives in a junkyard. Like some kind of violent, sexy raccoon.

A voice in your head that sounds scarily like your mother, lectures you about prospects and picking a man with no future.

Well, for one - he's back in school.

See mom, you're wrong.

He also seems to do very well for himself despite literally living amongst trash (you handwave away his blood money and unscrupulous methods to earn said money) so that's another point for Gun.

And what sort of person, who lives between piles of scrap metal and discarded appliances, has such a luxurious bed.

You're sure the bedding thread count is in the thousands. Instead of researching the cure to cancer or how to travel faster than light, scientists have researched the comfiest mattress known to man and has created this that you're currently lying on.

So maybe this violent sexy raccoon is actually a prize.

Regardless.

You seem to have hitched yourself quite willingly to this wagon and now your biggest issue, that leaves you tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning, is still-

Why the fuck didn't he kiss you.

And how could he, after sharing such a sweet moment, push you off his lap and kick your ass on Tekken for 5 straight rounds.

What a bastard.

.

.

At some point you must have drifted off to sleep and you awake to the smell of deliciousness.

Something is being fried and you melt thinking your raccoon king is cooking breakfast for you. Who knew he was this sweet and thoughtful.

What is even better though, somewhat masked by the sizzling, is if you listen hard enough, you think Gun might even be humming. Even the perfect bed can't keep you from pressing your ear up against the bedroom door when you connect the dots that he is humming a popular K-Pop song that you have listened to on loop 50 times the week prior.

You yank open the door with force, "A-ha!" and point in his direction, gleeful at catching him doing something so un-Gun like.

Gun, in the middle of plating 2 omelettes, whips his head to you and stills, looking like a deer caught in headlights or a raccoon caught in headlights, rather.

You ask him, with a shit eating grin,  if he's a big fan of the K-Pop group but it drops at his lack of reaction when he just shrugs and responds simply with a yes.

Damnit.

Of course you know it's not really anything to be ashamed of but it's so unexpected from Gun, that would it kill him to blush a little or act a little abashed? You expected something at least a little entertaining from his initial surprise, but you suppose anyone would act like that if a deranged house guest accosted them first thing in the morning after they so kindly made breakfast too.

As a consolation, after the let-down, you double take when you realise Gun had been cooking topless and remains topless this entire time.

In all his muscled glory. Pecs and abs and everything. Delicious broad shoulders and an enticing light trail of hair from below his belly button and stretching down, down, down into his sweatpants.

You gulp, trying to calm yourself down. You know you are staring so so obviously but you can't find it in yourself to look away.

Gun clears his throat as if to say my eyes are up here, and hands you a plate.

.

.

While you still have self control and before you outstay your welcome, you say bye to Gun after breakfast mentioning you have some errands to run.

It's a poor excuse but you didn't taste a bite of that omelette, brain too fixated on the man seated opposite and wondering if what he's hiding in his trousers matches the energy he gives off.

He offers to take you home and you insist on walking by yourself. You reason to yourself the fresh air after such a heady night and all the over excitement from this morning would do you good.

You say your goodbyes at his door, him leaning against the doorway, still unbearably tantalisingly shirtless and enough to distract you from the junkyard setting, with his arms folded and a smirk on his face as you stand there-

Standing and waiting and expecting.

You're pretty sure Gun wants to kiss you. There's a challenge in his eyes and you know he is teasing you.

The fact that you stared at him before like a slack-jawed moron also indicates full well what you would like him to do.

A goodbye kiss isn't too much to ask for (not that you're going to ask) but he continues to also lean and wait and smirk shirtlessly and god, this is the most awful hair-pulling frustrating game of chicken you have played.

For a moment you consider yanking him down and kissing him, hard and desperate, and making your way back inside to the most comfortable bed that has ever existed. For an even briefer moment you consider biting his pec and leaving a ring of teeth marks.

In the end, you can only muster "bye then," and to your dismay, your voice comes out whiny.

There's no hiding your disappointment.

Gun’s smirk grows wider at your tone and he relents and gives a peace offering in the form of a kiss on your cheek.

He pulls you into his body, arm wrapped around your waist and he dips down, grazes his lips featherlight to your cheek.

It's chaste. Impossibly tender and surprisingly sweet.

Damn.

You forget how to breathe and you feel like you're on fire as he murmurs bye into your ear. Later, you'll chastise yourself for letting Gun affect you like this with something so innocent.

You untangle from him and feel your legs wobble when you step off the porch and make your way back home.

Gun chuckles but you don't hear it.

You don't form a coherent thought again until that evening, when Gun beats you on Tekken and in a fit of rage and frustration, you finally break your controller.

.

.

To make things fair, Gun’s dislike of Literature is offset by how knowledgeable he is with Biology.

The human body, to be precise, and alarmingly so. Maybe serial killer levels of knowledge, with how much he knows about organs and muscles and tissues and everything in between.

He explains that it's useful for training, as if that's any explanation at all for his extensive knowledge. However, you've seen his body and heard enough about his past and yes, including his actual training, to realise that it does make sense in a way and you let it go.

Well.

Maybe you would have fought it a bit harder if you yourself was any good with biology but you're not. If he's great at it because he's a serial killer, then fortune favours the bold and you might as well take advantage of it.

Gun is a very very good teacher, which you did not predict and in a way you didn't expect.

His jaw is tense and the grip on the textbook tightens after you get the answer wrong for the 15th time and when you think he's about to whack you with said textbook, he closes his eyes and counts to ten.

When he opens them again, he tries another method with you. Then another. And another.

Truly, you did not think he had this sort of tolerance or patience.

He explains things simply and calmly (though you've noticed he has started to grit out his words). Unfortunately you still find all this theory hard to wrap your head around.

"Are you going to hit me?" You ask.

"Yes," Gun says though he doesn't. He looks more like he's going to ram his head through a wall. Neither happens and he continues to work through the textbook with you.

Hours later, it clicks.

You feel something of a genius even if Gun’s hair resembles a bird nest from the amount of time he has ran his fingers through in exasperation.

.

.

After finding out that you broke your controller, Gun buys you a new one immediately.

He's very generous and kind, you think, and it may be the first time in existence anyone has considered Gun as kind. 

Until you realise he has other reasons for doing so.

That night, and for several nights after too, Gun is merciless when he KOs you. Each match is shorter than the previous.

You register this is payback for the biology stint. It's got to be.

.

.

Nevertheless, because you're the bigger person and you take the defeats on the chin, as thanks and in an almost mirror image of Gun repaying your Literature help, you suggest taking him out for a coffee.

Getting a coffee to-go and hand delivering it would be much easier, but you can't bring yourself to order an espresso for someone even if it is their drink of choice.

You take him to one of your favourite coffeehouses. Somewhere much less lavish than the one he frequents and much more agreeable to your meagre pockets although the coffee is just as good.

"Two espressos," Gun says at the counter.

"One," you cut in firmly, holding yourself back from gagging. If you have to pay for it, you won't be drinking that bitter sludge. You rattle off your usual: a monstrosity made with double-digit syrup pumps and whipped cream and Gun flinches in your periphery.

Despite your insistence, he beats you to the punch and pays for the order anyway. Not before adding a jab that your coffee, if you can even call it a coffee, is the worst thing he has ever had the misfortune to spend money on.

"Try it," you offer, when your drink is in your hand and Gun watches every sip with mounting horror.

"No," His mouth is pressed into a thin line and he looks like he has half a mind to knock the cup out of your hand. He refrains, clenches his knuckles and rests them on his knee.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten.

You watch him, heartily enjoying your sugary drink and sucking noisily on the straw. He twitches and starts counting from one again. You feel a surge of affection.

.

.

Without any other plans, both of you amble together through the quiet streets. You window-shop as Gun smokes next to you and attempts to buy everything that you set your eye on.

You tell him thanks but no thanks and continue to look at pretty trinkets and funky decor. In the glass reflection, you notice Gun fondly looking at you.

"Hi," you smile, turning towards him. He looks more handsome than ever in the sunlight. You don't even mind the amount of gel in his hair.

"Hey," he says, low and hushed. He steps towards you, leaving only a hairbreadth of air in between and tips your chin up to face him with his fingers.

You notice his pupils are blown wide, flickering down to your lips. Gun dips down at the same time you press up onto your tiptoes, and you feel his chest against yours, his other arm winding around your waist, breath fanning over your skin-

This is it, you think, finally.

This, sadly, is not it.

"GUN!" you hear a voice screeching. You both tear your attention from each other to the shrill noise.

A blonde guy in the loudest suit you have ever cast your eyes upon is waving manically in your direction.

"Do you know him?" you ask and Gun's lips are thinner than you have ever seen.

"No."

"GUN!"  The blonde yells again and you raise an eyebrow at your companion.

His face looks pained as he tells you that is Goo Kim and when you ask if you both should go over and say hi, he snaps back absolutely not with a frown.

"Let's go," he says, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you in the opposite direction. Behind you, you hear cackling and Gun hastens his footsteps as if being chased by a deranged spirit.

You don't see the blonde again for the rest of the day although Gun’s phone seems to be going off every other minute. 

The moment you had is never quite recaptured. You can't bring yourself to mind too much though, as Gun never lets go of your hand.

And everytime he catches you smiling at your hand in his, he gives you a light squeeze and returns the smile.

.

.

If you thought school would be all cutesy and you would take turns in helping each other with topics you're stuck on, you're wrong.

Turns out, both you and Gun are equally bad at math.

You watch, face blank, at your screen as the teacher explains algebra. At least, you think that’s what the jumble of numbers and letters are because your ears refuse to make sense of the words.

You search the monitor for Gun to see how well he is faring and find him staring dead-eyed.

Not very, then.

In class, you see Gun's textbook with some attempt at notes in the margin before devolving into his lewd stick men doodles that he still insists are fighting stances.

"You shouldn't cover your page in smut. No wonder you're bad at this." You tease.

He doesn't look at you, doesn't rise to the bait. Simply rebukes, "Your book is blank and you're still shit."

"Asshole," you hiss and his dead eyed stare is replaced with a smirk.

.

.

As it happens, Gun can be very convincing when he wants to be.

A fellow student trails behind Gun in the library, and offers to help you and him out with your lack of mathematical comprehension.

You ignore that the student seems absolutely terrified and keeps giving fearful glances to Gun as he peers at them menacingly.

So what if the convincing involves some light threats of bodily harm or whatever Gun has so charmingly offered if that means you will pass. Didn’t you already establish that you have questionable morals? You’re too set in your ways and there's no point fighting it now.

Neither of you get any further after a few hours, and it doesn't help that the student gets more and more nervous each time you and Gun get a question wrong.

Explanations devolve into stammering and barely strung together sentences as if their life depends on you both understanding basic algebra.

They let out a petrified squeak when Gun snaps his fifth pen in half, noticing he has no more pens and may very well come for their neck.

Maybe he will.

"Leave." Gun commands, pinching his nose bridge when he realises this is futile and the student scarpers off.

"I hate this," You say, dejected, and you watch Gun close his eyes and quietly count to ten.

.

.

As it happens, Gun can be very resourceful too when he wants to be.

The following week, the teacher trails behind Gun to the library and offers to help you both out.

He seems equally afraid, eyes flickering over to Gun, and you choose not to focus on that, instead smiling brightly at his kindness.

The teacher, gripping the textbook white knuckled, breathes a sigh of relief hours later when both you and Gun start to answer the questions correctly and with accurate workings too.

In your mind, you have both learnt something and he has avoided an ass kicking so you're all winners here.

Nevermind the fact that Gun would have been the one handing out the ass kicking. There's no need to focus on such details.

.

.

From this distance, you find a figure chain smoking again. You’re now so familiar with his body language, with his mannerisms, that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s Gun and clearly there’s also something playing on his mind.

He sucks a cigarette down to the filter and lights up another one immediately after.

You worry about the poor state of his lungs and if he looks like this when he’s only 20, then mid-life will actually hit him hard. His body must be running on fumes. He really should cut down on the cigarettes and the caffeine and get a better night's sleep instead of staying up all night gaming. 

Not that you’re one to talk.

Perhaps it’s due to how he’s on alert for your presence like you are to him, his eyes snap to yours the moment you start to make your way over.

“You ok?” you ask and he gives you a funny look. It’s the same look whenever you express interest in his well being, or any general interest in him at all, and you think poor guy.

“Fine,” he responds, finishing off another cigarette and flicking it onto the floor.

And another thing, he really shouldn’t litter.

You don’t hesitate to tell him so, and as your tongue unravels, you start to also mention the smoking and his health and how you’re worried about him. Yes he clearly works out but all the cigarettes and lack of sleep will take a toll on him eventually.

Gun’s eyebrows climb into his hairline at your words. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you notice that what was supposed to come across as caring is very much coming across as a lecture though you can’t seem to stop.

As you begin to mention the obscene amount of gel he wears in his hair, his expression turns from bemused to sour and he cuts you off.

“You can nag me at mine over Tekken.”

“I’m not nagging-” you start, and then you abruptly stop as your brain kicks into gear and it sinks in that he has invited you over to his again.

Oh right. His.

The junkyard. 

At some point, you’ve forgotten that you’re in love with the King of Raccoons. That this guy willingly lives in a shack in the middle of, what you can only politely describe as, garbage, and you wonder how your life has come to this.

Gun is patient as he waits for your answer and his eyes are warm. It doesn’t sway you though. You want to counter with No. Why don’t you come to mine then you remember his beautiful bed. Yes you’re getting ahead of yourself but if there’s a chance you get to experience it again, sure. You will come to his raccoon den.

You agree and he gives you the softest smile you have ever seen.

.

.

“Shit,” you say, crestfallen and hanging limply.

“Shouldn’t you be used to losing by now?” comes Gun’s voice and you want to bounce the controller off his head.

“Shut up.”

“Your combinations are weak and poorly timed. You don’t understand how to use your characters or their advantages and you have no idea how to counter my moves.”

As the killing blow to your ego and pride, he adds, "You won that time because I let you."

A part of you already knew that yet you still stare at him agape at his audacity. Sitting, manspreading, on his armchair while he casually assassinates your skills.

“I’m not wrong.” He says with a smirk.

“Shut up,” you repeat, standing up.

“I can train you.”

“Shut up,” you stalk over to him.

“Or what?” He sits back to look up at you as you hover over him. Chin lifted defiantly and his eyes daring.

“This,” you snap, gripping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him towards you. You’re sick of losing and you’re sick of waiting. 

You clash your lips together and feel Gun exhale sharply in surprise at your actions. He tenses, for a split second, before he tugs you into his lap and your legs straddle his thighs. His hand reaches under your top, sliding their way across your skin as you grind down. 

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling away, lips glossy and gazing at you half-lidded. 

He leans back to look at you properly, removing his hand as you subconsciously chase his touch, then with gentle hands, he cups your face and grazes his thumb over your cheek.

The TV screen illuminates his features, light reflecting in his eyes and you find something you only saw an inkling of during that first night, but has grown strong and steady since.

Gun looks at you like he did then -  soft, like you might break. Holds you the same way he had done - tender and precious. 

Only this time, there’s a steeled resolve in his face as he presses your bodies together, capturing your lips against his once more and you melt into his embrace. He’s much more gentle than you were but there’s a hunger and quiet desperation as his tongue swipes over your lips and slips in your mouth.

Your fingers run through his hair, and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it soft. All this time there wasn’t too much gel at all.

.

.

Gun wakes up the next morning with you drooling into his collar bone.

You wake up after the best night sleep of your life - wrapped in Gun’s arms and in the most comfortable bed known to man.

[ctghost]

okokok i can't stop thinking about @yan-randomfandom 's godling fic so here's some drabbles on ford's thoughts.. this can be some sort of continuation of this! (P.s i hope i'm not bothering by tagging you jdkdkrjk 😭😭)

part 1 part 2

visualization that inspired me

"Well i'll see you later, pines, until then!"

Ford wakes up.

You really aren't just a piece of his dream. But he can't just believe fact that you aren't bill. Second dimensional, wearing a bowtie, and all that. Who would know if he could just be wearing some sort of bizarre skin?

But then he starts thinking what you just called him. Pines. Bill never called him that. All his years studying and time with bill, he had never heard anything about a deity like you. Could you possibly be from the same dimension as bill? If so, wouldn't that mean you're bill's ally? That's got to be the only logical reason here. You're likely trying to trick him to be able to make a deal with you. Well that sure isn't gonna work now.

But he had to be sure.. maybe this night he'll try to get some answers out of you.

-

"You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals aren't my forte,"

"I do wishes."

-

"Is that so? Well then, how many wishes?"

"One." His eyebrows furrowed at that. "Bill-"

"I am not Bill Cipher."

-

"You could use your wish to help me gain my memories back, or you could use it for yourself, it's your choice, really."

After a little more talk, he knows now that you are likely not lying, and that really don't have any recollections of your own past, and even your name. Still, he couldn't just trust you. Everyone knows what happened the last time that happens. He still needs to fish out as many answers as he could get.

But you probably even don't have much to give anyway, since all your replies are just "i don't know" or "i don't remember". He became slightly frustrated at your lack of vary answers, but guess he should appreciate you not trying to twist any truth there is.

Back in the mindscape, Ford's deep in his thoughts as he observes you moving around almost boredly. There's just so many questions.

If he really used his wish to get your memories back, would you be indebt to him? Or would you try to burn the world down just like bill?

He let out a small sigh, but soon a realization hit him, You can read his mind. If bill has that power, you could do the same-

He suddenly jumped, alarmed. You paused what you were doing and looked at him. "You alright there, pines?"

He was about to retaliate- but seeing your almost sincere and confused look on just a singular eye, he calms down abit from his overthinking. Just because you have similiar physical traits, you're not bill. Atleast not as far as he knows now with your memory loss.

You can't hurt him. Not in the mindscape anyway.

"I'm fine." He finally replied, after seeing that you were still staring at him.

He should probably start investigating to see if there's anything out there that could tell him more about you.

-

Aka, ford keeps comparing you to his ex muse after first few meetings

[palmettoshenanigans]

Is this an unpopular opinion? Is this a hot take??? I don't know if it is but I'm going to say it anyway,

I've read several AU!AFTG fics where writers try to mimic Neil's cut throat tongue lashings. They try to create their own "You know, I get it moment" whether with existing characters or OCs or whatever

Rarely do they pull it off. In fact, most miss the mark by a mile.

And it's not because they're bad at writing insults, they aren't. They can craft insults just like the rest of us, with varying degrees of success and scathing derogatory language. It's that the insults they use are generally applicable to most people and get their punch by being rife with curse words.

That's not how Neil does it.

Neil's insults are bespoke!!! (A bespoke suit is one where fabric isn't even cut until we know your exact measurements, this suit is for you, so let me write down every tidbit of relevant information about you and your body before I even start picking out thread)

Neil basically psychoanalyzed someone, noticed all their strengths, weaknesses, fears, hopes and dreams, complexes and traumas that he could get his little hands on, and honed the perfect sentence to bypass all their surface layer feelings and find their Inner Child like a fucking sniper and shot that crying baby in the forehead

That's why it hurts!!! Neil wouldn't call some one ugly as an insult even though that's an insult that has a wide AOE - it'll hit lots of folks. Neil would only call some ugly if it would strike home at their inner most traumatic childhood issues - Neil would call you ugly if he knew your mother called you ugly since birth and told you your only chance at earning love is by becoming hot and your dad told you you were so unskilled you couldn't even make a supermodel pretty if you tried giving them a makeover cus you're just that useless at making change. Yeah, Neil would call you ugly at that point.

Kevin didn't try to strangle Neil cus he called him a slur for disabled people, it pissed him off but it didn't really strike a nerve.

Kevin tried to strangle Neil cus he called him a "deadweight has been" and that struck all his nerves.

If you wanna write your own "You know, I get it" you can't just be insulting. You gotta be traumatizing. You can't just be mean to an adult being an asshole. You gotta be mean to a little kid who's already crying.

Only a couple of fic writers have pulled it off as far as I've read.

[gsirvitor]

So, let's get this straight, Trump has had 5 attempts on his life since 2015, 3 attempts prevented before they got a chance, and 2 that weren't.

The two successful attempts were done by Democrat fanatics, Ryan Routh, and Thomas Mathew Crooks.

Thomas Crooks had a family that were left leaning, and he had a history of donating to Act Blue, and voting in a closed primary as a republican to vote against Trump, he was killed after taking a shot at the President, and opening fire on the rally, hitting multiple people, and killing Corey Comperatore, a rally goer.

The media tried to link Mr. Crooks to Iran, for some war hawkish reasons, that sounded too much like the early 2000s reporting of WMDs being undeniably found in the Middle East.

Ryan Routh was taken down by the secret service prior to getting his full attempt at Trump's golf course, no one knows how he caught wind of Trump being there when it was a last minute, spontaneous, unannounced trip.

Mr. Routh however isn't being falsely linked to a foreign power, he himself openly went to Ukraine to fight, was denied by the Ukrainian government, and continued to act as a propaganda recruiter for Ukraine, he was even filmed in a promotional video for the Azov Brigade, in which he was in Kyiv attending a rally in support of the Neo Nazi military unit.

Now we find out Matt Gaetz has learned from a DHS official that there are 5 assassination groups in the US currently trying to kill Trump, 3 foreign groups, and 2 domestic, 2 of the foreign groups are allegedly linked to both Ukraine and Iran, and the Harris Administration knows these groups exist, and are trying to kill him.

Then you need to consider the fact that the Secret Service is being denied resources by the Administration to bolster their effectiveness at protecting the President.

I don't know about anyone else, but, you can consider my almonds activated.

[thinkinginpen]

Unexpected Company Part 2

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? And two in one hour? Damn. pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.6k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn. Next thing you knew he was lecturing your ex on how to treat a girl right.

You reluctantly followed your ex as he led you away from the others. He steered you to a quiet corner of the room, out of earshot of the rest of the party. His expression was cold and unforgiving.

"What the hell is going on here?" he hissed.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance. You knew what he was talking about, but playing dumb seemed like your best bet at this point.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he snapped. "You show up with some old dude in tow and act like he's your boyfriend? Don't try to play dumb with me, I know it's bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit," you said defensively. "He really is my boyfriend."

Your ex rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you're dating some old geezer?"

"Yes, I do," you retorted. "What, are you jealous or something?"

He sneered, clearly unconvinced. "Jealous? Of a fossil? Fat chance. No, I just want to know what kind of game you're playing here."

You gritted your teeth, frustrated by his tone. "I'm not playing any game. I'm dating him, and that's it."

He let out a hollow laugh. "Okay, fine. Say I believe you. How did that even happen? How'd you end up with some old man instead of me?"

You hesitated, not sure how to answer that. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him the truth - that the only reason you were pretending to be in a relationship with Logan was to get under his skin.

You took a deep breath and decided to stick with the same cover story you'd used earlier. "It just happened, I guess. We clicked."

He snorted, still not buying it. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you just randomly met this guy and started dating him? I don't buy it."

Your frustration was growing. How dare he question the validity of your relationship, even if he was right?

"Believe whatever you want," you said, crossing your arms. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm dating him, and he's better than you in every way."

Your ex's expression darkened at your words, his fists clenching. "Oh, so now you're gonna pull that crap? You honestly think this guy is better than me?"

He stepped closer to you, looming over you. "You're really gonna choose an old man over me?"

You didn't back down, meeting his angry gaze defiantly. "Yes, I am. He's more mature than you, and treats me a lot better."

Your ex scoffed. "Yeah, maybe because he's been alive longer than my grandparents. You think he'll be able to keep up with you in a couple years?"

"Better than you can," you shot back. "At least he's still active. He works out, he can do stuff. What've you been doing every day since we broke up? Playing video games and eating pizza rolls?"

He bristled, clearly insulted. "That's not all I do!"

"Oh really? What else do you do?" you asked, feigning curiosity. "I mean, you spend a lot of time on the couch. I'm sure you got up from there at some point."

He clenched his jaw, clearly getting more and more frustrated. "That's not the point!" he snapped. "The point is that there's no way you're really dating this old dude. You're just trying to make me jealous, right? That's it, isn't it?"

You felt a flicker of satisfaction as he grew more agitated. "No, I'm really dating him."

He gritted his teeth. "No way. Prove it."

"Prove it?" you repeated, surprised by the request. "How am I supposed to prove it to you?"

Your ex rolled his eyes. "I don't know, kiss him or something."

You nearly choked at the sudden request. "Wh-what? You want me to kiss him? Right here, in front of everyone?"

"Why not?" he sneered. "If you're really dating him, it should be easy, right?"

You felt a pang of panic mixed with irritation as he challenged you. You glanced over at Logan, who was still standing calmly across the room, mingling with other people at the party.

Your ex chuckled, noticing your hesitation. "See, you can't do it. You're bluffing, and you know it. You're just using this old guy as a prop to make me jealous, and I'm not falling for it."

You gritted your teeth, feeling a wave of anger and determination wash over you. He was right about one thing - you weren't really dating Logan, at least not in the way he meant. But the way he was demeaning Logan… no matter his age, he deserved better than that.

Logan was listening intently to a conversation with one of the nearby families when he suddenly heard the heated argument between you and your ex. His eyebrows rose, and he subtly moved to listen in.

He was surprised to hear your ex tell you to prove your relationship, but his expression darkened as he heard the other man's mocking tone.

He quickly made his way over to the pair of you, his expression stormy. As he got closer, he made himself known by grabbing your ex by the front of his shirt.

Your ex was suddenly yanked backwards, his shirt crumpling as Logan's fist closed tightly around a fistful of fabric.

He sputtered as he lost his balance, staring up at the much larger man in shock. "What the hell-"

Logan towered over him, leaning down to speak directly in his face. His tone was low and dangerous.

"I'm only going to say this once, boy. Leave the girl alone."

Your ex's expression flickered from surprise to anger. "Excuse me? You can't just-"

But before he could finish, Logan pulled him closer, his grip still tight on his shirt.

"I can do whatever I damn well please," he growled. "And right now, what I'm doing is telling you to leave her alone. Understand?"

Your ex floundered, clearly stunned by the unexpected intervention. But he wasn't cowed, and he tried to pull away from Logan's grip.

"And who are you, her guardian or something?" he snapped. "You got no right to tell me what to do, old man. You don't love her-"

Logan's expression darkened further. He had clearly heard enough.

"I don't love her, huh?" he said gruffly.

Before your ex could react, he tightened his grip on his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall, pinning him there with one arm.

Your ex's eyes widened in shock and fear as he found himself slammed against the wall. The wall shook from the impact, and several people nearby turned to see what was going on.

Logan leaned in closer, his face mere inches from your ex's. "You little bastard," he growled. "You don't have any idea what it means to love her."

Your ex tried to struggle, but Logan's hold on him was too strong. He was trapped, completely at the mercy of the older man's grip.

"Let- let go of me!" he gasped, his bravado faded as he stared up at Logan's angry face.

Logan's expression was stony, his eyes boring into your ex's. "Not until I'm done talking to you," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his tone low and dangerous. "You think just because you're young that you know better than anyone else? You think you know her better than I do?"

Your ex was visibly shaken, his cocky demeanor gone in the face of Logan's angry glare.

"I- I do know her better than you," he protested weakly. "I was dating her before you came around."

"Yeah, you were," Logan said gruffly. "And you blew it. Now she's with me, and you need to learn to live with that."

He paused, then suddenly pulled your ex closer, his face a mere inch away. "You're never going to touch her again, boy. Not as long as I'm around."

Your ex's expression wavered, caught between fear and anger.

"You can't just-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a glare.

"Dare me," he said gruffly. "Go on, boy. Say what you were gonna say."

Your ex swallowed, clearly intimidated. He tried to pull away from Logan, but he was still pinned in place. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke up.

"You can't just take her away from me," he muttered resentfully. "She was mine first."

"You don't own her, boy," Logan snapped, his voice hard as steel. "She's not something you can just claim like a damn trophy. She's her own damn person, and she can make her own damn decisions."

He leaned in closer, his face almost touching your ex's. "And she made the decision to ditch your sorry ass for me."

Your ex's expression darkened at the insult. "And why would she choose some old guy like you?" he shot back, his tone bitter. "What can you give her that I can't?"

Logan's glare hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I can give her a hell of a lot more than you ever did," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low growl. "I can give her stability, and respect, and loyalty. Things that you clearly didn't know how to provide."

Your ex tried again to struggle, but he was still trapped in Logan's grip. His expression darkened even further as he spat back.

"What, you think you're some kind of saint, just because you're older? You don't know me. You don't know what I can do for her."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," Logan said. "And from what I can tell, you're a damn coward who couldn't even keep her happy when you had the chance."

He leaned in so close that his chest was practically pressed against your ex's. "And you think for a second that you could do better than me?"

Your ex was clearly flustered, his expression torn between anger and fear.

"I- I could give her-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a scoff.

"Yeah? What, like you could give her a future? What's your plan for the future? Keep working a minimum wage job and play video games in your mom's basement all day?"

Logan chuckled, but he was seething.

"You wanna know what it's like to treat a girl right? First rule: You take care of her. I don't just mean buy her gifts and open doors for her. I mean really take care of her. Be there for her, listen to her, show her respect and loyalty and all the other things you seem to be completely incapable of."

He looked your ex over, his expression still disapproving. "Rule two: don't act like a damn child. Don't throw temper tantrums every time something doesn't go your way, don't blame her for your problems. Have some damn respect and act like you're actually worthy of her."

Logan's expression darkened further. "And rule three: Be a damn man. Don't let the people around you walk all over you, don't let people who don't matter to you drag you down. And for the love of God, don't try to cheat on her just because you can't keep it in your damn pants."

He leaned in closer, his voice low and fierce. "And if by some chance you've managed to follow all three of those rules, then maybe - MAYBE - you might be worthy of someone like her. But let's be honest, boy. We both know you haven't managed to follow a single one."

Your ex was caught between anger and fear, his expression shifting as Logan listed off the rules for treating a girl right. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by another scoff from Logan.

"Don't try to deny it, boy. We both know you've failed at all three. You're a damn child, pretending to be a man. And until you grow the hell up, you will never be worthy of a woman like her."

With that, he finally released his hold on your ex. The younger man stumbled backwards, clearly shaken.

Logan glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression softening. "Come here, darling," he said, his tone suddenly gentle.

You approached the pair, your heart racing after witnessing the intense encounter. You could sense your ex's glower as you stepped up next to Logan, who wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

He pulled you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He kept his gaze locked on your ex, his expression still stern.

"He won't be bothering you again, baby," he said gruffly.

Logan led you over to a nearby couch, his arm still around your shoulders. Most of the party seemed to have started minding their own business again, though a few people were still shooting curious glances your way.

He sat down on the couch, pulling you down next to him.

He put his other arm around you so that you were essentially squished between his broad frame and the couch cushions. He could tell that you were still a little shaken up, and he squeezed you gently, trying to reassure you.

"You alright, baby?" he asked gruffly, his voice low so that the other guests couldn't overhear.

"You can stop the act now Mr. Logan."

Logan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone. He continued to hold onto you, but turned to get a better look at your expression.

"What do you mean, hun?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

You could tell that he was playing dumb, probably to save face in front of the other guests. Your expression became a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.

"You know exactly what I mean, Logan," you said. "We can stop. I think we've sold the act enough by now."

Logan's expression softened, and he let out a low chuckle. He glanced around and confirmed that most of the party had gone back to their own conversations.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further. "You sure about that, baby?" he asked, his tone suggestive.

You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, I'm sure," you reassured him. "I think we've put on enough of a show. No need to keep this going any longer."

He chuckled again, tightening his grip on you. "Well, I don't mind keeping it going a little longer," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "I'm enjoying having you like this."

You sighed, but couldn't help the tingle of heat that ran through you at his words. "Stop it," you said, trying to sound stern despite your growing arousal. "We're in a room full of people, remember?"

Logan chuckled at your protests, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed in his grip.

"C'mon pretty girl, for Christmas' sake please can we keep this going?" he pleaded, his voice low and coaxing.

You fought to keep a straight face, trying not to let his words get to you. But it was difficult, especially with the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I thought the point of this was to make my ex jealous," you reminded him, trying to sound more stern than you felt.

He squeezed you tighter, his expression turning smug. "Yeah, it was," he said, his voice a low rumble. "and we've done a damn good job of that. But now that I've got you all to myself, I'm not ready to let go just yet."

Logan loosened his embrace slightly, allowing you a bit more breathing room.

"Honey," he said, his tone suddenly more polite. "Would you mind grabbing us some food?"

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the unexpected change in tone. But you composed yourself quickly and nodded.

"Sure, I can do that," you said, rising from the couch. "What do you want me to bring back?"

Logan smiled, pleased by your response. "Surprise me," he said. "Oh and how about some of those cookies you and your mother baked?"

You chuckled, amused by his request. "You've got a sweet tooth, huh?" you teased, as you made your way towards the buffet table.

Logan watched you as you walked away, his gaze lingering on your figure. His eyes stayed fixed on you until you disappeared among the crowd, at which point he settled back against the couch, a satisfied smile on his face.

The party continued around him, but his thoughts were focused on you. He couldn't help but feel a stirring of possessiveness. He had played the role of your boyfriend for the evening, and it seemed like he had done a pretty damn good job of it.

As Logan sat on the couch, waiting for you to return, he couldn't help but reflect on how the evening had started. He thought back to just hours earlier when he had been sitting alone, feeling grumpy and wishing he was anywhere else.

Then you had appeared, bringing him a plate of cookies that you had baked yourself. He had been hesitant at first, but the delicious treats had quickly won him over.

He recalled the conversations you had had once you had sat down. He had initially intended to brush you off and get back to his brooding, but he had found that he couldn't bring himself to shoo you away. Instead, he had ended up engaged in a surprisingly enjoyable conversation, and before he knew it, the hour was getting late.

You returned to the couch, your arms laden with food for both of you. You noticed that Logan was deep in thought, and he was visibly startled when you put the food down on the coffee table.

"You spaced out there, old man," you teased, gesturing for him to grab some food.

He chuckled, still slightly disoriented from his musings. "Sorry baby, got lost in thought there," he said, shaking his head.

He perked up when he saw the cookies you had brought back, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you remembered."

You chuckled, watching as he eagerly reached for the cookies. "Of course I did," you said, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

"I figured you could use a little comfort food after dealing with my ex," you added, taking a bite of your own food.

Logan grunted in agreement, already stuffing a cookie into his mouth. "Your ex's a damn fool," he said, his voice muffled through the food. "He'll never be good enough for you."

You raised an eyebrow at his assessment. "And you are?" you asked teasingly, poking him in the side.

Logan chuckled, swatting at your hand. "Hey now, watch it. You're gonna make me choke."

He finished his bite of cookie, then turned to look at you dead in the eye. "And to answer your question, hell yes I'd be good enough for you," he said, his tone serious.

You were surprised by his sudden shift in tone, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. You fumbled for a response for a few seconds before finally managing to gather your thoughts.

"You're awfully confident, old man," you said, trying to mask the flutter in your chest.

Logan chuckled at your response, clearly amused by your attempts to hide your reaction to his declaration. He continued to eat his food and the cookies, glancing over at you between bites.

You did the same, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you silently ate.

The room was filled with the sounds of the ongoing party, but the two of you were mostly silent as you ate. Every so often, Logan would steal a glance at you, his eyes fixed on your lips as you chewed.

You glanced over at Logan, noticing a small spot of food stuck in his beard. It was a bit distracting, and you couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"You've got something on your face," you said, reaching over and gently swiping the food from his beard.

Logan froze as your fingers touched his beard, and for a moment the two of you just sat there, frozen in the intimate moment. Your fingers lingered in his beard, tracing the length of it and feeling the coarse texture.

And then, almost against his will, Logan found himself tipping his head closer to yours. His eyes met yours, and his expression darkened with desire.

You became aware of his lips drawing ever closer to yours, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers were still in his beard, as if frozen in place. Your whole world seemed to have narrowed to the two of you in that instant, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration. But then something seemed to snap, and the kiss deepened. Logan reached up to cup your face in his hands, pulling you closer as he claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You found yourself responding eagerly, your fingers tangling in his beard. The kiss was intense, and it felt like the whole world had vanished around you, leaving just the two of you. Your heart raced as his hands held your face in place, his tongue slipping past your lips to deepen the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you got lost in the kiss. His beard tickled your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pulled you even closer. Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the material of his shirt as you kissed deeper.

Logan reluctantly pulled back, breaking the kiss as he sucked in a gulp of air. He was breathing heavily, and his expression was still darkened with desire.

He nodded towards your ex, who was watching and seething from across the room.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Merry Christmas, bubba."

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

Part 1 Part 2

🏷️: @princessleah94 @littlbitch69

[descendant-of-truth]

That said, I do think that Shadow Generations being such a more carefully cultivated exploration of Shadow's past compared to what the original Generations was for Sonic is... not doing Sonic himself any favors

General audiences are already kind of under the impression that Sonic as a character is fundamentally not that deep or interesting, and Generations was written during a time that really, really wanted to prove that notion right. Sonic "being deep" was what, seemingly, caused so much critical backlash, so to counteract that, they gave us the blandest cutscenes Sonic has ever had the displeasure of being in.

But that's not really what Sega is trying to push for, now. Frontiers wanted to be more serious, with a mature, down-to-earth Sonic. The movies gave him an origin story that inherently makes him a lot more complicated than usual. Prime put the focus on his emotions and gave him a character arc that lasted the whole show. The IDW comics can get extremely serious, and we're treated to Sonic's inner monologue as he wrestles with difficult choices. They clearly want Sonic as a character to be interesting to people, not just a vehicle for action and quips.

But putting the old Sonic Generations in the same package as the new Shadow Generations is inherently portraying them as equivalent experiences. When Sonic explores his past, it's no big deal - just another day on the hero job! Absolutely nothing worth exploring on his end when it comes to meeting his past self and revisiting his memories! Nope! No need to use time travel as a way to explore his core values as a person who prefers to live in the moment and not be bound by his past, no siree!

Oh, but Shadow? Now that's the actually interesting character! Revisiting Shadow's past is such an exciting event that it requires the whole year to hype up, and Sonic's just so boring in comparison, isn't he? Who really cares about Sonic beyond his surface-level characteristics anyway, right? The Sonic Generations remaster is more of an accessory to what's essentially Shadow the Hedgehog 2 at this point, and that bothers me.

Sure, Sonic doesn't have "a backstory" like Shadow does. But the past that we explore in Sonic Generations isn't his literal origins, but all the adventures we went on with him. Imagine how much depth you could wring out of him if you just took those events as being legitimate parts of his life that he has feelings on! Feelings we could explore!

But because it's a remaster instead of a full-blown remake, all of this effort they're putting into Shadow's campaign is nowhere to be seen in Sonic's. Can you imagine how good of a package deal this would be if Sonic's character was given this much care and respect, too? Like, we have two Sonics, but Shadow is getting more than double the favoritism.

And the fact that this is only going to continue to push the idea that Sonic is just. incapable of being interesting, or even really affected by what happens around him is really frustrating. We already have the movies and Prime drastically changing his demeanor and core traits for the sake of making him "able" to have character development, and as much as I love those versions as characters, it's really doing a disservice to who Sonic is supposed to be.

The last thing we need is for Generations to come out again and make the Sonic from the games seem like the least interesting version of him. Bringing Shadow up should not involve dragging Sonic down - they're supposed to be equals. But this game doesn't seem to be showcasing that very well, on account of essentially being two games written by different people haphazardly mashed together.

People being introduced to the series through this game are going to have such a skewed perception of what Sonic is like as a person, as well as what he's like compared to Shadow, and that just. makes me kinda upset not gonna lie

[daddyygh0stface]

Hi yes I'm alive sorry for not being around. I kinda lost my job and haven't really figured out what I am doing to do or how I'm going to pay for bills or what the fuck is going to happen But yeah I am here and alive unfortunately. I probably won't answer ask or dms for a while don't really feel the greatest right now and sure as hell don't feel like talking to anyone right now.

Rant time i guess? Getting a job in our current market is hell everything I've applied to just never gets back to me. Its funny because growing up I always told you need college to get a job or be able to do anything in life, man I have friends literally went to some of best colleges and still can't even get job. It just feels like I'm constantly being lied to about everything. Weird how I'll forever be told people like me just don't wanna work yeah man I don't wanna be able to live comfortable pay my bills and be homeless. Let's also not forget the fact jobs will require you have a set amount of experience in a certain area but no job will hire you for that field without experience HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO GET EXPERIENCE THEN DUDE? Then a week before all of the job thing family member sits us all day and tells us they have cancer. This fucking disease has taken so many family members from me. I lost my grandma what will be a year ago in January I was starting to just come to terms with everything and feel somewhat okay. I will never truly get over her death but I feel like that is normal. I've had so many family members taken from me just from cancer alone this stuff runs in my family I believe and coming to that realization fucking sucks because I just want to help them, but there isn't anything I can do. I truly don't know what to do or what to think anymore.

Writing this really late into the morning and i'm going to schedule the post sometime not sure when

[sulumuns-dootah]

Your work inspires me so much!! If its ok, could i request something…? I´m in need of some angsty headcanons, since i dreamed about this particular scenario… How would the kings (who are deeply in love) react after discovering that his beloved MC is madly in love with one of their most faithful subordinates? MC has rejected their romantic advances before, but they are only now realizing why… And that… Hurts. I imagine would be Satan-Sitri, Beel-Bael, Levi-Foras, Mammon-Bimet?, Luci-Marbas? (my heart can't do this with Gami, its his little broo), and Belph-Beleth. Sorry if my english is bad, but thank you so much for your hard work!

WHB kings reaction to their crush liking someone else

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: Aw, thank you and dw your english is good! ^^

Warning: Some of these get a bit yandere :)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Well, Satan is seeing red

He's unable to look at Sitri the same

In doing so he spends more time with Amy, which makes Sitri mad

The two eventually end up having an argument about it and if you haven't told Sitri yet, he's in for another shock

Being the good king he is, he won't stand in your relationship as long as you hide it in front of him

If he sees you two together without leaving a space for Jesus, one of you is getting kicked across the whole Hell

Also to add onto the angst: his visits to pubs and heavy drinking get more frequent

At some point it gets so bad that the smell of alcohol just carries with him, but his mind is still sound enough to be a king

       ༺☆༻

Oh...

Well, this is a first

Wanting something, but he can't have it?

So this is what it's like to be a common peasant

Mammon hates the feeling of that

He would never hurt you, you're his master and you're free to do what you want

Still, that doesn't mean that Bimet won't feel the sting of it

So Mammon gives him less and less change

Bet you feel stupid now, since Bimet has barely any money

Oh, and look... Mammon just so happens to be very hot and fanning himself with a stack of money

Care for a 5* hotel stay at the most expensive spa in all of Hell?

       ༺☆༻

Full Yandere mode

What, did you expect anything less from the king of Envy?

How foolish you are, really...

Leviathan gets commisioned a golden cage that's installed into his bedroom and that's where you stay

If you try to escape too many times, he'll even go as far as chaining you to the metal construction

For extra security, while he's away, there's at least five of his servants guarding you

If you're to go somewhere, it's only with Leviathan himself

Even Barbatos and Glasyalabolas can't be trusted

Oh, and Foras? He's lucky to even be alive

Anytime they cross paths in the halls, he's hanging from the cieling in a matter of seconds and isn't let go until he's passed out from the lack of oxygen

       ༺☆༻

Ahahah, nope

That doesn't stop Beel

No, he dosen't even acknowledge the fact

You're his

Bael? You fell for him while he was dressed up as Beel and now you're just confused, silly Y/N.

Is he gaslighting you or himself? Kinda both, actually

Poor Bael is just witnessing the whole thing and can't do anything about it

Beel is just an unstoppable force and nothing can change his mind

It's probably best to just let him forget about his feelings towards you

Let's hope that'll happen within your lifetime, otherwise youv'e got a stalker that defies all natural and supernatural laws

       ༺☆༻

Now, Belphie might be asleep most of the time, but that still doesn't mean you get to just run around and wanna be with anyone else

Oh, it's Beleth you're into?

Hm, looks like Belphie has to have a lengthy talk with him about it then

Since he hates long convos, it has to be short, sweet and straight to the point

And that's how Beleth finds himself smothered by the king's power as he's practically threatening to make him evaporate if he doesn't back off from you and reject all your advances

(Actually, you can still be in relationship with Beleth outside of the king's palace, but if Belphie finds out from someone else or smells your scent on Beleth, you're both gone)

       ༺☆༻

Lucifer tries to be as mature as possible, but there's still this jealousy gnawing on him from the inside

Asks Buer to help him with some meditation and breathing excercises to chase away his feelings and the thoughts

As one of the Seraphims, he had to learn to share God's love and this comes in handy

Actualy, what's wrong with having more than one partner? This is Hell, afterall...

The rest of his nobles know not to bring up you or Marbas in the same sentence or even the same context

Luci, being the demon of pride and all, firmly believes, that your feelings for Marbas are just temporary and soon you'll come to realise which demon is superior to that sex-crazed maniac

If things take a little too long for his liking, however, he's not against serving you a special type of tea strained through his underwear to speed things up

But don't worry, he's doing this for your own good :)

[keepthedelta]

okay it's kinda specific but is there any brocedes fact that is often overlooked but you think that is essential (or perhaps gives a new approach) to the lore?

that's such a good question. i have several, i hope you don't mind

the first one is the "he'll always be my best friend in my heart" quote. i've seen a lot of people use it as a very earnest declaration etc. (or if they believe in the nico is obsessed with lewis shit as a sign of that) but it was actually nico making a joke when he was doing commentary (on the italian comms i think). he was asked a question about lewis and jokingly/sarcastically said "in my heart he'll always be my best friend", and then immediately clarified that it was a joke (maybe recognising the narrative that would be spun around it). i know this seems kind of anti-brocedes but i do think it is essential to the lore that people recognise nico is not a weird as fandom likes to make out. he's absolutely weird, and he's definitely not normal about lewis, but he's not obsessive, and he feels comfortable enough making jokes about them. when you contrast that with lewis who either refuses to say nico's name in conversations where he is the most relevant person (the better teammates than max interview) or brings him up unnecessarily and then panics about it (grill the grid), i think it changes the dynamic of who is yearning, who is "over it", who is winning the idgaf war (it's neither of them but the difference is lewis lost by playing and nico is open enough about giving a fuck that he's not pretending to play). i am biased, but i also think that if you look back at them during their careers, lewis was always weirder about nico than nico was about him, although again, neither of them can truly be described as normal about each other.

then there's nico beating lewis in the 2004 f3 series that they shared. the narrative of brocedes describes it as lewis always beating nico, lewis being the one to win and nico always being slightly behind. and largely this is true. but in 2004 they were both competing in the 2004 f3 european series, albeit for different teams. neither of them won, but nico narrowly beat lewis. now they were in different teams and nico himself has said that some teams had better cars and equipment than others and that made a difference in the end result. but, nico still beat lewis. he had nearly double the number of dnfs/dns (6 to lewis's 3) and triple the number of wins (3 to lewis's 1), finishing highest of all the entrants who eventually made it to f1 (nico himself, lewis, adrian sutil and robert kubica). but nico himself barely seems to remember this. the narrative of lewis always being better, always beating him, is something he seems to have internalised, even though it isn't quite true, or at least, not as true as people make out.

my third bit of lore is that mclaren wanted to sign nico for the 2008 season. following the drama of fernando alonso (affectionate) and spygate, mclaren had an open seat and ron dennis wanted to fill it with nico. he even offered to buy out nico's contract from williams, but frank williams viewed nico as their best hope and refused. the driver that eventually ended up replacing fernando was heikki kovaleinen, nico's gp2 rival and 100% finnish to his 50% (yes nico's national identity crisis does come into this). lewis ended up winning the championship that year. heikki took only 1 victory, and while i think lewis would have beaten nico, i think nico wouldn't have been a doormat for him like heikki, and would have won at least a couple of races, which would have allowed felipe massa and ferrari to succeed. in many ways i think an argument can be made that nico not getting that mclaren seat really helped lewis to win his first championship, in the same way that if lewis hadn't gone to mercedes, nico would have won three, or if nico had stayed, there is a very real possibility that sebastian vettel would have won 2017. their presence and their success dooms the other, and it always has.

my final thing is that they are the most successful teammate pairing in f1 history. it kind of links back to the last one, where the fact that they are each as good as they are hurts the other one, unlike a lewis and valtteri line up or a michael and rubens line up where there is a distinct number one driver and the other one is to be sacrificed for him. but, even though both of those pairs were together for longer (nico and lewis aren't even in the top 5 longest teammate pairings), it takes more than a number 1 number 2 driver lineup to be the most successful. it takes nico and lewis, who are both number 1 drivers (don't come for me on this, nico would have flattened the likes of valtteri, rubens, or mark webber and you know it). although they were only teammates for four years (and one of those was a sebastian vettel/red bull dominance year) they achieved more pole positions, front row lockouts, wins, podiums, and 1-2 finishes than any other pairing in f1 history. they were utterly, utterly dominant, and that's why they hurt each other so badly. they were the dream team, the absolute best f1 could come up with, but they weren't just competing as a team, they were competing against each other, and only one of them could win

[miukki960]

I'm gonna make this post before I go in the tag and see ANY God or Diew slander, because for me the conflict this episode not only made sense, but was necessary for their relationship to move forward.

The seed was planted long ago when God first found the picture of Diew and Dr. Asshole, and at first God handled it rationally (as expected of our Green Flag King). But the longer the situation went unresolved, the more doubt and insecurity began to creep in until it all came to a head in this episode, because all God needed was honesty and openness from Diew, but Diew has learned from past conditioning to lock those parts of himself away and only show a surface level of his personality and self.

I found that God's argument with Diew, while definitely escalated by emotion and insecurity, was justified at its core. We've learned throughout this story that God's main love language is Quality Time, and that most often is fulfilled by God genuinely enjoying doing anything and everything with the people he loves, so long as they are having a good time. But his conversation with Dr. Asshole put the idea in his mind that Diew has simply been going with the flow and doing whatever God suggested in order to make him feel good, that he hasn't actually enjoyed their time together. And while we as an audience know that's false, the idea is one of God's worst fears and most devastating nightmares.

But he loves Diew and doesn't want to believe it's true, so he gives him multiple chances to prove him wrong. And when Diew continues to reply with lies and deflection, it unfortunately proves him right. Because while the context is a bit off and there is definitely a misunderstanding at play, at the end of the day Diew isn't being honest and isn't trusting God enough to open up and show him the deeper, more emotional parts of himself. So God comes to the only conclusion he can see, that even if Diew is no longer in love with Dr. Asshole, their love was deeper and more meaningful than what he has with God now.

But don't get me wrong! Even though Diew was choosing the wrong dialog options during his argument with God, he was also justified in choosing to keep his secrets and emotions hidden. What God doesn't know is that Diew HAS opened up before, bared his heart and soul to someone he thought he loved and trusted, and what was he rewarded with? Disinterest, deflection, shame. As someone with major anxieties related to human interaction, you only have to burn him once to teach him to never play with fire again. And Dr. Asshole burned him deeply on multiple occasions.

No amount of kindness and sweetness and love from God was gonna convince him to play with fire again. In fact, it was reaffirming. Much like what we have been seeing with Wan towards Beer, I'm sure Diew sees how good and wonderful God is and is absolutely terrified to fuck it up. But just like Wan, his defense became his biggest downfall.

At the end of the day, rather than focusing on what happened, we should instead focus on why it happened and how the characters are going to grow from it. And we can see that how through the characters actions during the last few minutes of the episode. We see Diew, who's defense is to isolate, actively reaching out to God multiple times in multiple ways, ready to explain and open up and heal. And we see God going through the more nasty, volatile parts of his emotions alone, so he doesn't hurt Diew while he's in the wrong headspace, but also doesn't bottle the bad things to explode later.

I think what gets me the most is that in their very last conversation before the end of the episode, Diew was asking for togetherness and God was asking for space, and they were both upset on many levels, but they were still speaking to each other with love in their tone and words.

[sea-lanterns]

Female lions usually grow manes due to lots of testosterone, so I really don't doubt that Deyha would grow one

Additionally, 'panther' isn't a species and it's just a term for a feline that has too much melanin. There's cases of leopards and lions becoming 'panthers', though jaguars get them most often.

Cougars/Mountain Lions/Pumas have also been called panthers (among WAY too many other names), even though I don't believe they've ever been all black before.

Additionally, snow leopards, tigers, and cheetahs, along with bobcats have never been recorded as being all black like panther be. They have been recorded as having melanism, but not hyperblack melanism like with what's seen on panthers.

Anyway, bringing this up because I've been wondering what kind of panther Arlecchino is.

And I thought it would be funny if she had a mix of all the traits?

Like, she can swim better than any other felid, because she's part jaguar (might even have extra webbing), the climbing prowess of a leopard (able to drag up to 220 pounds into a tree), and umm... I don't know much about lions, 'cause they're pretty boring to me, but maybe Arle has a mane too?

Additional fun-fact about lions. Ones with darker manes are seen as more attractive because darker mane=more testosterone, so if Arle does get a mane, it'd be funny to see how jealous Deyha is of it.

All this said, I just found out panther is also what a cougar is called, so maybe you just mean that Arlecchino is a cougar, if so then... uhh... I hope you found the random stuff I spewed cool :>

—🪽

The big cat infodump I didn’t know I needed until now :0

If we are talking about what kind of big cat Arlecchino would be as panthers aren’t an actual species, I’d say she’d probably be a jaguar like Xilonen! Ever since this AU started, Jaguar! Xilonen and Panther! Arleccchino have always been paired together as they have some sort of rivalry. I think it’d be neat if they were actually both Jaguar hybrids, but Arlecchino’s coat color has a lot of melanin which causes her to be called a “panther.”

Also the thought of Arlecchino being a black lion hybrid is so intriguing too! Since you mentioned that the darker the lion’s mane is, the more attractive they are to mates, I can see Dehya getting jealous because Arlecchino’s mane would be all pitch black! That makes her think you’d be more attracted to Arleccchino’e mane rather than hers! Even though Dehya’s mane is also pretty dark considering her dark hair…

Lol, imagine Lion! Dehya forming a rivalry with Lion! Arlecchino too! Arlecchino beefs with everyone no matter what species of hybrid she is, poor baby 😭😭