#force me to read your bullshit instead

[un-lawliet]

“He Knows”

— in which you’re avoiding Gojo and he wants you to tell him why.

(or i’m coping with rejection rn pls god help me)

“You’re avoiding me.”

“Huh?!” You jump back, almost dropping your pen as you turn to see frowning Gojo Satoru staring down at you expectingly, the usually relaxed demeanour he wore crumbling in the slight dip in his brow.

It wasn’t a question, Gojo stated it as fact, and if you looked hard enough, the downwards tilt of his lips could tell you about his complete (and utter) disapproval in his conclusion.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

You were running, sprinting even away from your problems.

Avoid, avoid avoid.

You refused to let it come to this, cornered in a library with Gojo Satoru, a man you definitely were not avoiding, nope not at all.

“You.” Gojo leans down, capturing your eyes in his, “Are avoiding me.”

And you’re leaning back, in your seat, away from him. Attempting to create any distance between the pair of you, unable to stand the giddy rush of joy that the proximity generated.

A moment passed.

And then another.

And deep down you pleaded, with conviction similar to that of a desperate man crying out for God, that the floor would fall in, taking you with it and allowing you some leeway to escape.

Gojo cocks his head, blue eyes scanning your panicked face before he sighs and stands back up again, resuming his position of elevation before you.

“Why?” His voice lacked the sentiment of interrogation, he couldn’t find in himself to dwindle on anger, he missed you and he selfishly wanted you to know it, to feel guilt in your mistreatment.

“Gojo.” You started, moving your eyes away from his face to glare at the book your reading instead.

Were you sweating? You felt like you were. Oh God.

Jujutsu sorcerers were not supposed to fall for another, it was an unspoken rule shared between sorcerers.

An unspoken rule that constantly plagued your thoughts when you were near Gojo. And so, you decided confidently to yourself that you could easily get over this silly personal flaw. Surely it would be easy.

But Gojo isn’t an easy man, and falling out of love with him followed that damn trend.

At every turn of your head, your gaze found his, longing for him to catch your eyes and reassure you with his presence, boisterous, like how he handles everything. And at night, when you tossed and turned, the cruel Summer heat forcing you to wither in your bed, you wondered if he could ever dream of you like how you longed for him.

It was pathetic really.

And so yes maybe you were avoiding him.

But you were doing it with good intentions!

You weren’t about to burden him with your childish wish for his unreturned feelings. Not in this world, under these circumstances, not when he was already holding the weight of being the strongest.

“Is there something bothering ya?” Gojo paused, “Cause y’know you only have t’ ask, and I could take care of it.”

And you wanted to cry.

Because Gojo Satoru is loud, and unabashedly himself, but he cares in silence, through actions hidden behind a loud laugh and a cocky grin.

“No, no it’s nothing really.” You had to do something, to say anything.

“Nothing? I haven’t seen you in days Y/N.”

“I’ve just been busy…” You mumble, fidgeting awkwardly in your chair.

“Oh yea? With what? Reading?” Gojo scoffed, his shoulders dropping in poorly hidden exasperation.

Your cheeks burned as you nodded, unable to form words, “And missions too I guess.”

“I asked Yaga, you haven’t been on a mission since September.”

Fuck.

“Preparations for missions then.” You cringed at yourself, lowering your head in the shame of being caught in your own shitty lie.

“Come on Y/N cut the bullshit.” Gojo all but whines, “I know somethings off, I know you.” You look at him then, his shoulder slumped, and face pouting, and you felt horrible.

“It’s really nothing Gojo I swear.”

“See there!” Gojo jumped, his eyes wide with determination, a look you only ever see on him in the middle of a mission. “You called me Gojo, you never do that, it’s Satoru to you, just Satoru.”

“You’re upset because I’m not calling you by your first name?” You asked, unable to break eye contact with him.

“You use to call me Satoru.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

You had to get out of there, the fact that your confession was all but resting on your tongue scared you beyond words, and you moved to pick up your stuff.

Then you felt his hand touch yours and your froze.

“What’s going on inside that head of your Y/N.” He was so close, so, so close. You could feel the warmth of his chest that was almost pressed against your arm, “Please.”

And you crumbled, because your weak and you could never escape the way you felt when he was near you, how you could barley hold yourself back from leaning into his chest and breathing in his scent.

“Satoru.” You whispered, your confession hushed, your head down and eyes closed, “I think I like you.”

And silence.

Silence.

Silence

And you were running walking away, avoid, avoid, avoid, your feet moving fast, abandoning the books you had brought because oh my god you had just told Satoru Gojo that you liked him and that was stupid, you’re stupid, everything was stupid and-

You were pulled back into him, effortlessly turned around so that your face was in his chest, the sound of his chuckling encasing your shameful state.

“The fuck are you laughing for?” You protested, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle your way out of his embrace, his arms circling you close.

“You’re pretty when you’re embarrassed y’know?”

And you had to hold yourself back from punching him right then and there, because of course Satoru Gojo knew you liked him, of course he was teasing you.

Nothing can escape those damn eyes, and he’s smarter than he lets on.

“You’re such an asshole I hope you know that, as soon as I leave this room I am never speaking to-’

Your rambles were cut short when you felt a tiny kiss on your forehead, and you finally looked at him fully, only to see the softest expression on his face as he looked down at you.

“I think I like you too Y/N.��� He winked, his hand tracing the indent of your spine as he pulled you back into a hug, rocking you gently.

And you hugged him back, finally allowing yourself the closure you had dreamed of for months.

End.

feel free to leave a request !!

masterlist here <3

( authors note: do we all wanna hear a mini rant about how the girl i fucking adore just got a boyfriend and my heart is in SHAMBLES- anyway i wrote this to cope pls enjoy,,, i love u thank u for reading have a great day <3 )

[corroded-hellfire]

My gorgeous soulmate. The love of my life. I can’t stop thinking about Reader waiting for a ride and accidentally overhearing Eddie talking to the Hellfire guys about some beautiful girl and how he’s afraid to ask her out. Reader assumes it’s someone else and leaves because she’s upset and doesn’t want him to see her. Bonus points for wingman Dusty Bun, but not necessary. Okay love you byeeeeee xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Hello, my darling dearest. I hope you enjoy this and I love you too! 💕

Words: 1.5k

Band practice ran late, but that didn’t matter one bit. Your older brother was always running behind to pick you up, leaving you the lone person sitting outside the school, waiting. Usually, you had a book with you, but you’d finished your last one and hadn’t gotten a chance to check a new one out of the library today. Honestly, the fierce autumn wind may have prevented you from reading anyway; the pages would be obeying Mother Nature, not you. The wind whistles and whips so viciously that you slide off of the brick wall you’re sitting on top of and seat yourself on the cold sidewalk, pressing as close to the wall as you can to avoid the harsh blowing.

Luckily, the gust eases up and you only end up having four leaves stuck to your clothing. As you’re picking them from your gray sweater, you hear the telltale squeak of the main doors of the school opening. Your brow creases in confusion because you didn’t realize anyone else was here this late. The dark evening has your mind floating back to the dozens of slasher movies you’ve seen that started with this very scenario. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you tuck your legs up against your body as you hug your backpack to your chest.

“Damn Eddie, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Nancy’s brother maybe? Right! He’s in Hellfire with Eddie Munson, who must be the Eddie he’s speaking to. An involuntary smile curls on your lips at the boy you’re head over heels for being just a few feet away. The closer they get, the easier it is for you to hear the thunk of the metalhead’s boots coming down the sidewalk. 

“Ugh, I know,” Eddie says, a hint of a whine in his happy-go-lucky voice. “But she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach sour, churning at hearing Eddie talk this way about some girl. He’s not doing anything wrong, and logically you know that. He doesn’t owe you anything. But irritation bubbles up in you as a defense from the heartbreak you’re desperately trying to run away from. Your fingers dig into your backpack as you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from leaking out.

“Ask her out!” That voice was Jeff’s—from your history class.

Eddie scoffs and you can just picture him shaking his head, his frizzy curls swaying back and forth. The thought of Eddie asking a girl out forces the hot tears to leak down your face, despite how tightly you’ve been keeping them closed. 

“Like she would want to go out with me,” he says. 

Now your heart also breaks for Eddie. Who could be so stupid as to not want to go out with him?

“Aww, I think you’re scared,” another voice goads. Probably the curly-haired boy that’s friends with the Wheeler boy. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says. “I’m just…afraid.”

“That’s the same thing!” Wheeler says before you hear a thump and the boy mutters an, “Ow!”

“Shut it, Wheeler. I don’t want to hear shit from you or Henderson on girls. Both of your girls live far away. Huh, kind of convenient, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “They’re probably as real as the damn hair on top of Higgin’s head.”

“Hey!” Wheeler shouts.

“That’s bullshit!” the boy who must be Henderson shouts at the same time.

“You guys are letting him change the subject,” Jeff says. “When are you going to ask her out?”

Instead of giving an answer, you can hear Eddie grumbling under his breath the closer they get to you. It won’t be long now before they’ll walk past the wall and see you sitting on the ground. Waiting for a ride is easy enough to explain, but the tear tracks running down your face are a different matter. 

Before the group of guys can get any closer, you carefully push yourself onto your knees. Balancing yourself against the wall with one hand, you seek out somewhere you can hide. The corner of the wall is pretty far away, you’d never be able to crawl there fast enough. If you stand up though, you could walk that distance. Realizing crouching down so far is going to kill your back, you push up to your feet and keep your torso and head low as you speedwalk to the corner of the wall. 

Luckily, it’s just a grassy lawn on the other side of the wall, so you throw yourself down on it and catch your breath. Unluckily, you hear the piercing whine of your brother’s car pulling up towards Hawkins High. Fuck. Of course he comes now. 

You peek out from your safe space around the wall and see that Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang are climbing into Eddie’s van. A rush of breath leaves your lungs and you’re sure your adrenaline is about to come crashing down.

Your brother pulls up to the curb and you push yourself off of the grass and quickly slide into the passenger’s seat. 

“Uh, you okay?” your brother asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you huff. “Just go.”

Like the piece of gum you’d stepped in last week, the sharp pains in your heart stay with you much longer than you’d like. The next day, right before last period, you’re at your locker, switching out your books and hoping your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel.

“Uh, hey.”

The voice makes you jump and drop your biology book. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is; you’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just never been so close to your ear before.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says as he bends down to pick up your book. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you manage to say as you turn around to face him. “Thank you,” you say as he gives you your science book back. 

Eddie clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before looking back at you—or rather, your shoes. Curious, you follow the line of sight where Eddie had just looked, and you see the curly-haired boy from Hellfire peeking around the corner. Henderson. As soon as he notices you looking, he pops back out of sight. 

“I, uh,” Eddie says as he finds the courage to meet your eye. “Hey.”

“You said that,” you say with a shy smile. “But then I freaked out, so…hi.”

The smile Eddie gives you isn’t his biggest by far, but it still makes your knees go wobbly. 

“You’re in band, right?” Eddie asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. 

“I am.”

“Yeah. So, I was wondering if maybe after the game this Friday you might want to grab a bite to eat? With, um, me?”

The world freezes around you, time completely stopping. Your body is locked in place as you stare at Eddie with wide eyes. He just asked me out, you think. Why would he ask me out? He thinks that other girl is beauti—holy shit. I’m the beautiful girl he was talking about? This defies all that you thought you knew in the world. Is this a parallel universe where guys actually like you back? You realize you’ve just been staring at him since you spoke.

“Yeah. T-That sounds nice,” you say.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes light up and your heart comes to a halt inside your chest.

“Yes,” you say with a small chuckle.

“Wow. Awesome. Okay, wow.” His disbelief shocks you. How in the hell was he afraid to ask you out? You’re just…you. He gives you a wider grin now before tugging up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” You grab a pen from your locker and write down your number on Eddie’s pale skin, right below a colony of inked bats. 

“Great,” Eddie says as he pulls his sleeve back down. “Um, I’ll wait in the gym after the game?”

“Sure. It’ll only take me a few minutes to change and get everything put away.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says again, and seeing him acting this nervous just tickles you pink. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him say “awesome” before and now he’s said it twice within the last minute. “I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Eddie, wait. You’re going to go to the game?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Oh. Well, I do,” he says with a chuckle. “Easier to take you out after the game if I’m there, though. And, uh, you know, Sinclair’s been bugging me to come see him play.”

“Right,” you say. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light red as he gives you a bashful smile. 

“See you later, beautiful,” he says. He doesn’t give you time to even react to his words before he’s heading down the hall. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. “I make Eddie nervous?”

A jovial giggle slips past your lips as you close your locker. You feel like you owe the Hellfire guys a thank you. 

[ecoamerica]

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[maraudersmyloves]

hii! i have a request i thought of a few days ago, fem!reader x slytherin boys (mainly mattheo riddle) where they noticed something wrong with her and she lies about it and mattheo says something along the line of “cut the bullshit”

CW: cussing, Angst, insecure reader, screaming, Arguing

You've been hanging out with the Slytherins less and less, not eating with them or hanging out at Blaise's Dorm after class.

That Fact alone wouldn't be unusual. It's exam Season after all and you often spend that time holed up in your Dorm, Studying and Eating what your Roommates bring you up.

The Problem occurs when you stop coming to Sunday Hangouts.

It's not an actual Agreement or anything, but it's become a Routine never broken.

Never.

No matter what's going on, on Sunday at around 9 PM you all meet at the Greenhouse.

Mattheo's always the first there and Tom's the last.

Pansy never figured out a certain time she would arrive while Draco always turns up at exactly 9:06:56

Down to the motherfucking Second

Blaise always brings a Book he doesn't read, Theo always forgets the Snacks he's supposed to bring and brings the sweets only he likes instead, while you always bring a Sketchbook.

It's 9:34 and you're not here.

You weren't there last week but Blaise convinced the others to talk about it Today.

Mattheo was stressing about talking with you and got into an all-time high of fights all week.

Now, you're not here.

Everyone is here

Except for you

It's pissing Mattheo off and at this point, the others are just as peeved

You are in your room crying

You know you should be at the Greenhouse rn, and doing anything else feels weird

The last 3 years you have spent every Sunday at the Greenhouse

For two weeks you haven't

The Slytherins loudly knock on your door and you quickly wipe away the tears, taking a few deep breaths to seem more collected

Mattheo sees your red eyes and is immediately worried although anger quickly overcomes him

Why didn't you tell him something was wrong?

God, why can you never just talk to him??

"Oh, hi guys!"

You force a smile but they see through it

"Wtf, y/n. Where have you been, what's going on???"

"I've just been studying, you know how i get"

"Cut the crap, wtf is actually going on?"

Blaise pulls him back a bit to not make you feel cornered

Theo steps forward, missing the point of Mattheo getting pulled back "We worry!! You can't just cut contact for two weeks. We excused you not coming to hang out last week but two times in a row?!"

"Calm down guys, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation to all of this, Right?" Pansy says, but the last words have some venom you didn't expect.

Not from her

Your best Friend

Hot tears fall from your eyes and Tom pulls Pansy to the side while Mattheo steps closer, his eyes filled with worry

"Mi Vida? Can I hug you?"

His Voice is soft and his open Arms look so inviting.

You want to step back and say no so badly when you remember the words that caused this, but you can't bring yourself to do so. Silently nodding

He wraps his arms around you in a matter of seconds pulling you as close as he can.

You can hear Blaise's annoyed voice talk the others into leaving you alone

He is the only one smart enough to realize how overwhelmed you are

One after the other they usher out

All with various amounts of Backtalk, while you and Mattheo stay still. Standing in the middle of the now empty room, Papers and Books scattered all around you, Mattheo buries his Head in your Neck.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong, baby?"

Pt. 2 with Backstory and more Angst?

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You keep yourself as busy as you can with your friends while your husband is away. Bradley starts to learn that this top secret special mission comes with a very specific set of risks and very few details. But the details he does have make it clear that he's never faced anything like this before.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, masturbation, fluff, mentions of hostages

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You sat in the driver's seat of the Bronco until Bradley's transport was completely out of sight, and you were just squinting into the brightening sky. It was getting late, and you needed to head to work, but the weird mix of emotions inside you was making it hard to even reach for the keys in the ignition and start the engine. 

Bradley was excited about his mission; you knew that for a fact. He couldn't hide it from you when he talked about it, and you wouldn't even want him to. If this is what it was going to take for him to get back into a confident groove at work, then you were happy to send him off into the sky. But it was still impossible not to worry about him. 

You made the trip back home and got yourself dressed in your uniform after you took Tylenol for your cramps. You kissed Tramp and said, "When I get home later, we can watch a movie." Then you took your little red car to work and walked up to your office. 

While Bradley was away, you planned on using this time to catch up with your friends a little bit more. Maria and Cam were the best kinds of friends who could just tell when you needed to focus on your marriage instead of them, but you were really missing those lazy brunches and avocado toast. But Jake was the one you really wanted to have lunch with.

"Sorry, Cat," you murmured to yourself as you walked to the lab. You were ready to force Jake to sit down with you and you alone one day this week, even if that meant asking her nicely to sit at a different table. You still had in the back of your mind the fact that he had other women texting his phone, and you wanted to know what that was all about. 

Cat was the first person you saw when you entered your lab, and while you wanted to talk to her, she was wearing the expensive headphones with her eyes glued to her computer screen, and you knew better than to interrupt. So you waited and texted Jake to see if he was going to be on the ground at lunchtime today. But as soon as Cat removed her headphones, you were there.

"Hey," you said, and she jumped a bit in her seat. 

"Hi," she replied, eyeing you a little suspiciously. "It's pretty early on a Monday morning to be scaring people."

You took a deep breath. "Sorry. Bradley left a few hours ago, and I'm still riding the adrenaline rush."

Her face softened. "That's right. Any idea how long he'll be gone?"

"No clue. But I can already tell he's going to miss his birthday, which is now my favorite day of the year."

She laughed. "That's sweet. Jeremiah's birthday is my favorite day."

You paused and studied her face. "And Jake's birthday? You like that day, too?"

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Seeing as that's not until October, I haven't had a chance to experience that with him yet."

You wrung your hands together. "Do you think you and he will be experiencing it? Together?"

Cat stood and shook her head at you. "If you're trying to ask me what's going on with Jake, then just ask me what's going on with Jake. You and I can't cut the bullshit with each other now."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as you asked, "Did you ask him about the text messages?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. "At first he pretended not to know what I was talking about, and I promptly grabbed my bag and walked out his front door."

"No," you gasped, your hands curling into angry fists. "He didn't."

"He did," she said calmly, nodding. "I made it all the way out to Uncle Bernie's SUV before he chased me down. I told him to remember that I'm not some twenty one year old he met at the bar, and he told me he's an idiot. So I left."

"When was this?" you asked, completely shocked by Jake. 

"Saturday night." Cat was as calm as anything, and you kind of envied her for it.

"What are you going to do?"

She shrugged, and you saw the facade crack the tiniest bit. "Jer is already attached to him. So... that sucks, I guess. I haven't answered Jake's calls, and I haven't decided if I will or not. I needed time to think. I'm honestly a little surprised and annoyed that he isn't in here right now looking for me." Her expression just seemed sad now, and you really wanted to hug her. But Bickel walked in looking for Macy so you decided to just accost Jake yourself when you saw him.

The opportunity arose at lunchtime. "Seresin!" you called out once you had your burrito bowl and hot sauce in your hands. He turned around cautiously as you stormed in his direction. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He smirked. "You'll need to be more specific, Angel."

You glared. "Cut the shit and give me your phone." You set your lunch on an empty table before taking his sandwich container out of his hand. You held out your palm expectantly, and a few seconds later, he handed it to you. When you unlocked his phone and opened his messaging app, you were appalled. Most of the texts were from random numbers, and at least he hadn't responded to any of them, but you were still annoyed. "Why didn't you delete any of these messages?"

Now he was kind of in your face as he hissed, "What's the fucking point? It's not going to make them stop. It'll just make me feel worse when I get more."

You held up his phone. "One girl texted asking if you could come over at three in the morning. Three in the morning, Jake!"

"I know," he said, wrenching his phone back out of your hand. "It was when I was asleep in bed with Cat at Hondo's place. I snuck in the window around midnight just so I could see her, and I read the message when I woke up. It made me want to vomit."

"Well how do you think Cat feels?!" you replied in an outraged whisper. 

"Probably like an idiot," he said with a shrug. "But I'm not doing anything behind her back."

You sighed deeply. "I think she knows that, but you need to make it stop."

"I literally emailed your husband on Sunday night for advice," Jake said, plopping down into a seat at the table and running his fingers through his hair. "He managed to pull you, so he's got to know what he's doing and how I can fix this."

You rolled your eyes and took the seat across from him. "Well if he writes back, take it with a grain of salt. Bradley hardly gives his phone number out to anyone."

"He did write back. He told me after you and he traded numbers, he blocked and deleted everyone else's."

A soft smile found its way to your lips as you thought about Bradley holding his phone the night after you and he first kissed. The idea of him deleting other numbers while he was texting you made butterflies erupt inside you. "Well, you could try doing that," you told Jake. "Either that or get a new phone number. I think that would send the right signal to Cat. If you're still serious."

Jake poked at his sandwich for a few seconds with a scowl on his face, and then he stood, sending the chair screeching a few feet behind him. You watched him walk out of the cafeteria, and when he didn't return, you ate his sandwich and saved your burrito bowl for your dinner instead. You'd eat it at home while you emailed the photographer in Oceanside.

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

Bradley was usually able to get some sleep on the comanche transports, but this time it was too loud and uncomfortable, even with his earplugs. Exhaustion was finally overtaking him as they started to near the US base in South Korea. A nervous energy was thrumming through him. But he did feel more confident knowing that Cyclone and Warlock were running the mission this time, and while he didn't know many of the other aviators personally, he'd heard of all of them. The fact that several of them had been called in from the Atlantic fleet was a little bit alarming and also intriguing to him. 

He quickly learned that the woman sitting across from him was Daphne 'Bluebird' Blue from Lemoore, the pilot he'd filled in for once previously when she'd been injured in a training exercise. Of course that was the same mission Bradley had been lucky to return home from outside of a body bag. Countless stitches, broken bones and lacerations later, you'd nursed him back to health. He wondered briefly if something similar would have happened to Bluebird if she'd flown instead of him. Maybe they were both alive today simply because Bradley had gone in her place. 

The current mission felt like a way for him to bring his confidence fully back. As he walked out of the comanche and then right into a smaller helicopter that was waiting to take them to the aircraft carrier, Bradley ended up sitting next to Bluebird this time. He knew there would be time to meet everyone aboard the carrier, but she had a friendly demeanor. He really wasn't here to make friends though, so he closed his eyes, and luckily this time he was able to fall asleep.

"Rooster." He woke up to Bluebird shaking his arm. "Wake up."

He'd been having the most incredible dream about you, one where you were standing in the backyard singing really badly. Tramp was running around in excited circles and the sun was shining, and when he called out your name, you turned to face him. And you had an adorable baby in your arms. When he looked up at Bluebird with her hand on his arm, he was almost confused. 

"We're on the carrier," she informed him, patting his shoulder before walking out the back of the helicopter. He was alone now, and it was almost quiet, so he took a minute to let his head rest on the nylon netting behind him. The dream felt real to the point that being on the carrier felt foreign now. He rubbed his hands across his face and stood, looking around for his duffle before he walked outside. 

Cyclone was handing out bunk assignments, and thanks to Bluebird, there was an uneven number of males. Bradley got his own bunk. "Get some food, and get some rest," Warlock told the group. "We'll meet tomorrow morning at 0900 to start talking about some mission options."

Bradley's brow scrunched as he followed the labyrinth of hallways in search of his bunk. That was such an odd way to phrase it: start talking about some mission options. It struck him that perhaps he was finally, officially sitting at the proverbial big kids' table. But now he was also a little afraid of exactly what was going to unfold here.

He quickly unpacked his bag and reached for his new notebook, deciding to forego dinner in favor of some quiet and a bigger breakfast in the morning. His thoughts were swirling. He scribbled down a paragraph about Admiral Dean and Slayer, trying to empty his brain of everything negative. He wrote down his feelings about the current mission, and then he paused. 

As he glanced over the page, he realized this notebook wasn't going to be quite like the last one. While he wouldn't hide it from you, it just felt a little different. Then he wrote down the dream he had. This was his notebook, and he wasn't going to change his tactics now. He wrote down everything in as much detail as he could remember. He wrote down the way the sliding glass door felt against his hand and exactly which song the dream version of you had been singing. 

And then he dropped the notebook and pen onto the floor and fell asleep without getting changed. When he woke up, he felt better. The jetlag had confused his body, but luckily he had plenty of time to get himself ready for the day. He ate breakfast alone after a long shower, and then he headed for the classroom. Everyone else seemed a little tense, and Bradley tried to chalk it up to the fact that only the admirals knew what was going on. But frankly they seemed tense as well. 

"Good morning," Warlock greeted everyone with a stern face and a deep voice. The room was absolutely silent for him. "Welcome aboard the USS Nimitz. I'm Admiral Bates, and this is Admiral Simpson. The seven of you have been selected to be here today, simply because you've consistently shown three qualities in your career: you can make good decisions under pressure, you treat your teammates with respect, and you come highly recommended by your superiors. You'll need to employ every bit of your knowledge and skill to make this mission successful. And it is of the utmost importance that we are successful." He paused, and when he spoke again, he was looking directly at Bradley. "Welcome to Operation Loophole."

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

You hadn't heard another word from Jake after lunch on Monday. You'd gone home to Tramp and eaten your burrito bowl before falling asleep on the couch while you tried to watch a movie. Your cramps were so bad, you could barely function, and Bradley wasn't even home to run around and get everything for you. 

"Come on," you said to Tramp as you stood and stretched around midnight. You let him outside and then took your phone to your bedroom while he trotted along behind you. Then you got yourself ready for bed and emailed the photographer who had helped you make Bradley's birthday present last year. She promised she would fit you in again, and you hoped she could take some photos of you this weekend when your period was over and you weren't so bloated.

You curled up in bed after turning the lamp off, and you thought about Bradley. You didn't even know where he was right now. The base in South Korea could be a jumping off point for pretty much anything, and all you could do now was wait and hope for a facetime call. 

After turning your ringer up louder, you eventually fell asleep with Tramp. When you woke up for work, you took your phone everywhere with you. It joined you on the bath mat when you took a shower, and you had it in your pocket as you ate breakfast. You weren't going to miss a call from Bradley this time. 

When you strolled into your lab right on time, Cat was already working, and she had the headphones on again. You tried to settle in to check some code so you could get your submissions out before your deadlines when Jake walked in.

"Angel," he said quietly, and he looked a lot calmer today. His gaze shifted to Cat, and you noticed he had a piece of paper in his hand. He hesitated, but then she carefully slid the headphones off and set them down next to her keyboard. Jake took a deep breath, and you tried to be discreet as you watched him walk over to her. 

She was looking up at him from her seat, and her expression gave nothing away. Jake said a few words and then handed her the paper before turning and walking away. Now he looked a little apprehensive as Cat read the note over a few times. She jumped up from her seat, and the paper sailed to the floor, landing close to your boot. You picked it up and read it as Cat called out to him and reached for his hand to stop him.

I don't want you to give up on me. 

It was followed by a phone number. Jake's new phone number. You smiled as you watched the two of them kissing out in the hallway. When Cat eventually walked back in, trying her best to contain her smile, she looked around a bit frantically for the note. 

"Here you go," you told her, holding it out. She snatched it from you with a grin and then sat down without a word. 

But a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket with a text from that new number. Angel, come have lunch with Bob, Nat and I today.

You couldn't turn down the invitation. At 12:30, you found yourself holding a lunch tray and sliding into the seat next to Jake as the three of them continued with their discussion as if you'd always been there. 

"I don't want to move to Poway," Bob said as he poked at his salad with his fork. "It will take me forever to get to work, and there's nothing up there anyway. Then you guys will forget about me and stop inviting me to things."

"I never invite any of you to anything," Nat interjected before biting into her cheeseburger. "You all just show up regardless."

"Well, what do you think, Angel?" Jake asked, eating a duplicate of the sandwich you enjoyed yesterday. 

"I'm sorry, but what are we talking about here?" you asked, turning your attention back to Bob when he sighed.

"My landlord is raising my rent," Bob replied. "I'm seriously considering a new place instead of renewing my lease, but nothing I've found seems suitable. And Nat and Jake are very little help."

Nat nodded in agreement, and Jake rolled his eyes. His phone was sitting on his tray, and you saw it light up with a text from Cat. When you met his eyes, he was smiling. 

"Well, Bob," you said, returning your attention to the man across from you, "I will definitely ask around and let you know if I hear of anything that might work out for you. And we could never forget to invite you to things. You're too sweet for that to happen."

"Thank you," he murmured, blushing a bit as he ate a bite of salad. You felt like you owed him a little bit since he'd kept Bradley so calm during that last, painful deployment. He'd given your husband a blank notebook and had taken the time to meditate with him. "How's Rooster's special detachment?"

You shrugged. "No idea. He just left yesterday. I'll be lucky to hear from him at all."

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

The training routine every day for the first week was rigorous, but the really crazy thing was the fact that the admirals still hadn't provided any real details about Operation Loophole. Bradley and the others were in the air working through exercises all morning every morning, and then they were all in the small classroom below deck until late. Oftentimes Admiral Simpson had food delivered to the room as he went over scenarios that didn't quite make sense without all of the information. 

They just kept going over three different scenarios: Alpha, Beta and Gamma. Bradley knew them by heart, and he was sure the others did as well. But they weren't being told which one they would be flying for the mission. They were only being told they needed to be able to perform any of the three flawlessly.

On Friday morning at breakfast, Bradley decided to sit with Bluebird. It hadn't escaped him that the seven pilots all gave each other a bit of a wide berth during any sort of free time. He was left to assume that none of them had ever worked together before. He knew he hadn't worked with any of them. Bluebird was from Lemoore, but none of the others were stationed in California at all. Havoc was from Whidbey Island. Jackal was from Key West. Richmond was from Great Lakes. Wilbur was from Norfolk. Dugout was from Pensacola. 

"Are you starting to get the feeling they're withholding information from us?" Bradley asked as he took a seat. 

Bluebird looked up from her book and laughed. "Are you starting to get the feeling we might never know what's really going on?"

"Shit," Bradley muttered, dousing his eggs in hot sauce just like you would. "If they don't say something soon, I'm going to start begging for information. At first it was exciting to be part of this whole thing, but now, I'm not so sure."

"I completely agree," she said, her voice laced with frustration. "Maybe the seven of us can pull together and riot."

She and Bradley walked side by side down the long corridor to the classroom without speaking, but it wasn't unpleasant. He didn't mind being alone with his thoughts right now, but it was especially nice to know he wasn't the only one who was frustrated here. 

"Close the door behind you," Cyclone barked at Bradley. Everyone else was already seated as the door clicked shut, and Bradley found a seat as well. "Since you've proven you can fly the Alpha, Beta and Gamma scenarios to the highest level of perfection, let's talk a little more about Operation Loophole."

Bradley leaned forward a bit in his seat as Warlock turned off the lights, and the projector at the back of the room lit up the front wall. 

"While giving you the barest amount of information possible," Cyclone started, "I'd like you to memorize what you see here."

Bradley looked at the aerial view of a city and the suburbs beyond. Then the image zoomed in on a small cluster of buildings before zooming further to one building with a dark green roof. He tried to take in every detail of where it looked like the front door opened up directly onto the sidewalk and the fact that there didn't appear to be any other buildings connected to it. The more he examined things, an uneasy feeling started to fill him up. And then he realized that he was looking at a live satellite feed as a motorbike rode past the building.

"This structure is currently housing five hostages. One is American. The other four are from allied countries. As far as our intelligence shows, they've been inside for fifty eight days."

Bradley had to fight the desire to look around the room as dread settled into his stomach. They were going to aid in a hostage extraction. He already knew what this meant. How dangerous it was going to be. 

"Six of you will be chosen. One of you will remain on standby. There is no margin for error. You will be flying unmarked jets. You will be wearing unmarked flight suits. Communication with the carrier will be at short range only. Communication with each other will be through code only. Nobody can know who we are or where we came from or what our country of origin is. You will not fire a single weapon. You will not take a single hit. You will be perfect."

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

Early on Saturday morning, you left your house with your hair and makeup looking flawless. There was literally a suitcase full of your clothing and lingerie in the back of the Bronco as you drove it along the coastal highway, and you were singing along loudly to one of Bradley's playlists. His birthday was next weekend, but you hadn't heard a word from him since he left. You couldn't hold out too much hope that he'd be back in time, because you didn't want to be disappointed later. At least his birthday present would be ready for him whenever he got home.

This year you decided to incorporate Bradley's beloved Bronco into his birthday calendar. Yesterday after work, you spent hours washing and cleaning it up so the blue paint absolutely shined. The idea of becoming a pinup model for the second year in a row was making you antsy to get the photo shoot over with, but he'd told you explicitly how much he wanted another calendar. And you often caught him flipping through the one you made last year when he was supposed to be working out in the garage.

You were smiling by the time you arrived at the rocky overlook a few miles outside of Oceanside, and Flora, the photographer you met last year, was already there. "You look like you're ready for the spotlight," she said as she shook your hand.

"I'm nervous," you told her with a shrug.

"You were nervous last year, and the calendar turned out perfectly. And this time, we've got gorgeous weather and a natural backdrop. It'll be great."

You took a deep breath and got to work. She had you pose all around and inside the Bronco, and she had you move it a few times so it was facing different directions. Once again you brought Bradley's aviators, and they made it into a few photos. Flora helped you discreetly get changed into different outfits even though there was nobody around to see. She took photos of you in your honeymoon bikini leaning back against the hood as well as some in your denim shorts and red bra while you sat on the tailgate. So many poses, you couldn't keep track.

As she scrolled through the photos, examining the screen on her camera in the sunlight, she casually asked, "How do you feel about going topless?"

You pressed your lips together. If you did, Bradley was going to have to make sure nobody else saw it. But you already knew he would lose his shit. In a good way. "Okay, but you'll have to make next June the topless month."

"Sure," she replied as you looked around in every direction before unclasping your bra.

A few hours later, you were dressed in a simple sundress and walking into the usual restaurant for a late brunch. You slid into the booth next to Cam and across from Maria, and you were thankful there was already a mimosa waiting for you. Flora insisted the photos looked perfect, but you were still a little antsy over the state of the calendar.

"I'm starving," Cam whined, signaling for the waitress to come back. "Do you know what you want?"

"I literally just got here," you told him as you sipped your drink.

"You always get the same thing anyway," he murmured. "Both of you do." You could tell he was getting hangry by the way he ordered for all three of you when the waitress came back. "One French toast with berries. One avocado toast with bacon. One western omelette with extra hashbrowns." Then he aggressively bit into a piece of the cinnamon toast that the waitress left on the table. 

"You're in a snippy mood," you told him, and then you realized that Maria was staring at her phone. "What's your problem?" 

Cam sighed and chewed up the rest of the toast. "I'm starving, first of all. Second, I think my boss is going to promote me next cycle, which is great, but I also feel like a dick, because I kind of want to switch labs. And third, Maria won't stop whining."

"I'm not whining!" she whined, rolling her eyes. 

Great. You had to be the parent today. "Well, congratulations?" you said to Cam and he just ate more toast in response. Then you looked at Maria and asked, "What's got you so upset?"

She set her phone down, and you could tell she was apartment hunting. "Rochelle is moving out. Her boyfriend got a bigger place, and she's moving in with him. She pulled a you."

You grimaced and muttered, "Sorry." 

She waved you off. "It's fine. She wasn't that great anyway. But I can't afford two bedrooms alone when everyone else around me is getting married and getting promotions and raises except me," she said blandly, rubbing her hands over her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Cam downed his mimosa in one go, but you were still looking at Maria. "Hey... you remember Bob Floyd? Phoenix's backseater?"

"Lieutenant Commander Mustache and his parade of hot friends," Cam mumbled, and you elbowed him to be quiet.

Maria had a faraway look in her eyes now. "Bob Floyd. He always smells nice."

Cam nodded in agreement. And you nodded in agreement as well. "He does always smell nice," you whispered, thinking about the last time you hugged Bob. 

"Anyway, what about Bob?" Maria asked, still fidgeting with her phone. 

You smiled. "He's looking for a new place."

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

Bradley was in his bunk, getting undressed after dinner when there was a knock on the door. "Yeah?" he asked, opening it up to reveal a petty officer. 

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?" Bradley repeated, buttoning his shirt up again.

"If you want to make a call, there are some free iPads in the communication room. I saw your name on the list."

"Oh," he murmured, quickly tucking in his shirt again and following him out the door. "Thanks."

Bradley's heart was pounding erratically. After you missed his call last deployment, he had gotten so frustrated, and you'd gone to talk to Dr. Genevieve. He was trying to do some quick math to determine what time it was back home, but he was already in the room. He felt flustered as he was given a tablet and a private spot to sit. As quickly as he could, he entered your number, hoping to have as much time to talk to you as he could. 

Just a few seconds later, you answered with a loud, "Roo!" Bradley saw your face for a few seconds before you dropped your phone. Then there was a string of curse words before you picked it up again. "Bradley?!" you asked in a panicked voice.

"I'm here, Baby Girl."

You squealed with delight, and Bradley realized you were standing halfway in and halfway out of the shower. You were completely naked, and you looked like perfection as you asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied, knowing there was no way he could share any classified details about his mission with you. He was going to have to keep you talking about yourself as much as possible. "I miss you so much. How are you? How's Tramp?"

"Good!" you gushed, moving under the shower spray and holding your phone out away from you as you rinsed off. Bradley was completely distracted by your wet tits as you said, "I had brunch with Cam and Maria on Saturday, and Nat and I got our nails done. But I miss you. Did you fly yet?"

"Not yet," he rasped as you stood in the far corner of the steamy shower and smiled at your phone. "God, you look good."

Your smile grew as you leaned against the tile wall, bringing your free hand up to touch your breasts, and he could see his wedding ring on your necklace chain. "Do you know when you'll be home? Can you tell me about your mission?" you asked softly as the sound of the shower somehow calmed Bradley's nerves as you wound him up a little bit.

He just grunted. "I'd rather watch you, Sweetheart."

And you fucking let him. Your fingers with your pretty manicured nails brushed along your nipples as you sighed his name. He had no idea how he's gotten this lucky in life, as you treated him to those pretty fingers on your clit and slipping inside your pussy just for him. He watched you masturbate, and he turned the volume down when you got loud. His hand was resting on his cock as he grew harder for you, the sounds you made echoing through the shower enclosure. 

"Baby Girl," he groaned softly as he watched your face on the screen as you came. Perfect. You looked perfect. His mind flashed back to the dream he had as he looked at your face, relaxed and sated. 

"Tell me how much you miss me, Roo," you whispered breathlessly. So Bradley waxed poetic about your body and your voice and how he couldn't get comfortable in bed without you. He made you laugh, and his cock stayed hard as you licked your lips. 

And then he was told he had a minute left. "Hey, listen," he told you softly. "Time's almost up. I don't know when I'll be flying or when I'll be home, but I think this is going to be a crazy one, okay?"

"Okay," you said, apprehension creeping into your voice. 

"But I'm doing great here. I'm ready for anything. So there's no need to worry. I'll be home soon."

"I love you, Bradley."

"I love you so much, Sweetheart."

Bradley felt like he was still in a bit of a daze as he returned to his bunk. He thought about jerking off to the videos you and he made on his phone, but he barely had his shirt off when there was another sharp knock on his door. He answered in just his uniform pants. It was Bluebird, and the sight of her wearing her unmarked, black flight suit added to the adrenaline already coursing through his body. 

"Get changed into your black suit. It's time to go."

She moved down the hallway, knocking on another door, and it took Bradley a few seconds to pull his thoughts together. It was mission time. It must be dark out on deck now. He would be flying at night. He took a minute to breathe deeply the way Bob taught him, and then he got changed. 

He was the last one to walk into the classroom, and it felt so strange to have no identifying clothing or patches on his person at all, especially when the admirals were dressed for a normal day. "Have a seat," Warlock announced, and then he turned the lights out, leaving the room in pitch darkness. "You'll be flying tonight in these conditions. Your eyesight will do little to help you beyond seeing what's on your radar readouts. Rely on your teammates and your instincts instead."

Then the projector clicked on while Bradley's heart pounded. Cyclone was at the front of the room, signaling for the satellite image to be zoomed in further and further. "Our sources on the ground relayed useful intelligence in the last hour. The hostages are most likely being transported around midnight, potentially to an execution site. SEAL Team 7 is ready just off the coast aboard the USS Charleston. You will provide a distraction for the SEAL team, enabling them to penetrate the building and perform an extraction before the hostages can be moved. Two of you will protect a comanche helicopter crew providing imaging for the SEAL team. Four of you will lure enemy aircrafts out over the water and away from the military base located here." 

The image on the wall zoomed out and back in on an airstrip located not too far away from the hostages. Bradley listened as Cyclone told them their current coordinates, the coordinates of the base, and the coordinates of the hostages. "You need to keep the enemy aircrafts away from the Charleston and keep the comanche crew out of danger. Bluebird, you're the team leader for the comanche protection. Wilbur, you fly with Bluebird." Cyclone turned to look at Bradley as he said, "And Rooster, you'll lead the team composed of Havoc, Richmond and Dugout to lure the enemy jets out over the water. Any questions?"

Cyclone nodded at Richmond when he raised his hand, "Sir, are we following flight plan Alpha, Beta or Gamma?"

Cyclone shook his head. "None of the above. You'll be flying flight plan Omega, and we're going to make it up right now."

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

Bradley is out there on the mission of a lifetime. More action coming soon. Thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

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[permanentswaps]

Building Each Other Up Pt. 3

Read Pt. 1 here and Pt. 2 here.

Shane’s POV

‘I'm not kidding, Mark. I wanna swap back,’ I angrily texted. I stared at the screen, waiting for the blue bubble to pop up and signal the message had gone through. Instead, my message popped up green with a little red circle saying ‘Not Delivered.’

“Fuck, did that asshole block me?” I muttered to myself, feeling a surge of anger.

It had been almost two weeks since Mark forced me out of my own body and into his, which meant he had been controlling my body full time for almost a month. At first, I thought I could handle it. And despite the bullshit he pulled, I wanted to trust him. But now, it was clear that he was enjoying my life a little too much.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic. It hadn't been the worst experience being in Mark’s body again. I had enjoyed indulging in some cheat foods and cigars I hadn’t been allowing myself, and I still managed to pull girls without much effort (I mean Mark was still a good looking guy). There was even a nostalgic element to being back in his body after so long.

But the bodybuilding competition was tomorrow. I had been working towards this for so long, and the thought of not competing in my own body was infuriating.

Grabbing my phone again, I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. "Damn it, Mark! Answer your fucking phone!" I shouted, slamming it down on the counter.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands," I muttered to myself.

Mark had mentioned earlier this week that he needed to make more of the potion. He said it was a bit of an involved process, but with the competition coming up, he just didn't have the time. I knew better. I'd made the potion with him a few times, and while it was a bit complicated, it didn't take that long. Maybe two to three hours tops.

"Alright," I said to myself. "It doesn't seem like I'm getting any help from him, so I guess I'll just make some on my own."

After rummaging through the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, I found everything I needed. I set up in the kitchen, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and frustration. As I started cooking, memories of the first time we made the potion together came flooding back. We were both so excited about getting me some gains back then.

Following the steps carefully, I mixed the ingredients, heating them just right on the stove. After about two and a half hours, I had a batch of the potion ready. It wasn’t quite the right color – a bit more greenish than usual – but I had followed all the steps correctly.

"Good enough," I said, pouring the potion into a vial.

I made my way over to my apartment, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination. Mark had insisted we go about our routines as normally as possible to avoid raising suspicion, but I knew that if I was going to get my body back, I had to act quickly.

As I approached the door, I fished out the vial of potion from my pocket. "No sense in asking him to swap back if he’s been avoiding me," I muttered to myself. I took a deep breath and downed the potion in one go, the familiar bitter taste washing over my tongue.

I entered the key code and opened the door, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear movement in the bedroom, the sound of my own footsteps pacing around. Mentally preparing myself, I quietly made my way towards the noise.

I run in there and dive into my back. Except, once inside, I realize immediately that something is wrong. I'm not in control. I'm just a passenger in this body. Panic sets in as I shout in my head, "Mark, you fucker, what did you do?" But there's no reply. Shit, he can't hear me.

I feel myself walk over to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Except it isn't me. It's some random kid. Who the fuck is this, I think to myself.

Not only did I make the potion wrong, I jumped into some random guy. And who the hell is he? Why is he alone in my apartment? My mind races with confusion and dread.

I hear the door open again and watch as my old self – Mark in my body – walks into the room.

"Hey babe," he says, his voice filled with affection as he pulls me in for a tender kiss. I'm shocked, but I can't do anything to resist.

"How was the gym?" I hear my body ask, its voice sounding strangely detached from my own thoughts.

"Oh, great," Mark responds, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I think I'm in great shape for the competition." He flexes his muscles for emphasis. "But I'm still feeling a bit stressed," he adds, smirking at me seductively, walking to the bathroom and quickly indulging in some pump selfies.

I feel myself following him into the bathroom, my body moving on its own accord. I know what’s about to happen Panic sets in as I try to turn off my subconscious, but it's no use, I'm trapped.

I watch as my body turns on the water, and Mark looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Before we get in, I know how much you like my post-workout musk," he says with a smirk.

Despite my internal protests, I also feel a strange sense of anticipation. Mark pulls my head towards his armpit. I take a deep inhale and then begin to lick, finding it surprisingly tolerable. The taste is musky and slightly salty, but not as overpowering as I feared.

Once the shower is nice and steamy, we step in, enveloped in the warmth and the mist swirling around us. My new body takes the lead, its hands gliding over Mark’s – I mean my body’s – skin, caressing every curve and contour with the gentle pressure of the sudsy soap and the softness of the loofah. His muscles relax under my touch, and a contented sigh escapes his lips as I lavish attention on him.

Then, it's Mark's turn to return the favor. My body tries to make itself look as sexy as possible for him.

He turns me around, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he runs the loofah over my skin. I close my eyes, lost in the sensation of his hands caressing me, focusing on the way his fingers linger on my ass.

When he squeezes and playfully slaps my ass, I'm taken aback by the surge of arousal that washes over me. My heart races as I feel myself growing excited at his touch, unable to control the growing heat between my legs.

"Fuck," I feel my voice mutter, the intensity of the moment clearly overwhelming the guy in control of this body. If this didn’t fell so good, I would’ve realized that I’d never felt aroused by another guy when I had controlled Mark’s body

As Mark's hard cock pressed against my eager hole, a jolt of conflicting emotions surged through me. “I can’t be here for this,” I thought to myself, trying and failing again to retreat to my subconscious.

Then, finally, I felt the exhilarating sensation of him entering me.

Despite my initial resistance, a wave of unexpected pleasure washed over me, leaving me stunned by the intensity of the experience.

"Fuck," I thought, momentarily forgetting who I even actually was.

The sensation of being filled by my former cock was overwhelming. I find myself lost in the moment, my body eagerly responding to his every touch and thrust. I can’t deny the pleasure coursing through my veins as he drives into me.

As the pleasure builds to a crescendo, I feel myself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, my mind consumed by the raw intensity of the experience.

“Unghhhh Shane” I hear my voice moan uncontrollably.

That definitely got a reaction out of him. He starts thrusting into me even deeper.

“Wait,” I thought, “he’s not just enjoying this kids admittedly built body …  is he getting off on being me?”

“Fuck yeah, keep saying daddy’s name” he replies.

“Fuck me harder Shane,” I hear my voice beg.

Finally, with a guttural groan, Mark reaches his peak, his hot cum flooding into me, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body. I feel myself clenching around him, my own release echoing his as we both ride the waves of pleasure to completion.

As we catch our breath, Mark pulls away, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Basking in the physical afterglow, I find myself struggling to come to terms with what just happened.

“That was another great one, babe. Your ass is so incredible,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

“Thanks, babe,” my body responds automatically, a smile forming on my lips as I lean in for another kiss under the warm cascade of water.

I had a million questions still racing around my head – “who is this kid”, “why can’t he hear me”, “how can I get my body back” – but one thought dominates above all others: When can I do that again?

To Be Continued ...

[kalimarinu]

offerings from the unnamed.

[ summary : a mystery person is leaving gifts for 141? ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 3rd person & 2nd-ish pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , unedited & not proofread , i know nothing about the military once again ]

[ word count : 2,392 ]

[ notes : back after another long while , yeah!!! this was fun <3 i can't believe this is 2k words what ?!@?!>@/ that's longer than my previous fic & this was just like a spitball idk..., also the 141 might just have memory loss why is everyone forgetting everything!! (y'all idk why i got so into it w gaz and price's section like why is it so long and soap and ghost's are so short???. but more the merrier, right...?) ]

John Price:

he was pretty surprised at first, he did not expect to see a bouquet of roses on his desk. though, he doesn't question it? 

—until he walks up closer to examine the flowers, just to see a little tag with a note on it that reads: 'for my favorite captain. -a/n.'

now he's a little confused. could it be one of his sergeants? his lieutenant? hell, it could be so many other people.

the only hint is the handwriting. he swears he can recognize it. 

but suddenly price reminds himself he actually has work, so never mind the flowers, for now, he needs to get back to doing his paperwork and such. 

as he works away and whatnot, the thought of the roses is lingering in the back of his mind and slowly creeping up to the front, and he can't seem to ignore the questions.

"why roses?" "whose handwriting is that? i swear i know it." "for me? why not anybody else?"

he's utterly perplexed at this point, so he quickly finishes up whatever he needs to do and turns to the bouquet he left sitting on the other side of the desk long ago.

after many, many minutes of just trying to grasp the mysterious person whose handwriting looks the same as on the tag, he gives up.

gives up on trying to figure out this anonymous roses bullshit by himself, anyway. the captain goes to his two closest buddies, unsurprisingly nikolai and laswell.

he questions them, he tells them everything. to the point he walked through the door and saw the bouquet and to the point where he was now asking them for 'help'. but it just ends up being just a lot more questions and inevitably no answers.

he goes to his lieutenant. his two sergeants. nothing.

now he gives up fully. nobody knows anything about this or who it might be. not him, his best friends, or his own task force.

time passes quickly until it's the end of the day (and he's surprised he's almost spent hours trying to figure this puzzling gift out), and he's trying to come to terms with this.

'it's intended to be anonymous, he shouldn't be trying to figure this out, and he shouldn't lose sleep over this.' is what he tells himself when he gets back to his barracks.

he looks down at the mysterious bouquet in his hand that never had left him alone since he'd come across it, like a fungus that had grown on a damp and and won't let go, and he lets out a sigh.

but john supposes he doesn't mind keeping it. if it really is someone he's friends with (which he's sure), he shouldn't just throw it away. he'll keep it.

which is what he does. preparing and cleaning a random glass jar big enough to fit the flowers, found somewhere around his barracks. it's now put to better use instead of just collecting dust, now filled up with water, the stems of the roses inside.

he sets it on the nightstand next to his bed, and for some reason the room feels a little more homey. oh and don't forget the tag, which he sets next to the jar of blossoms, just in case he does remember who's handwriting that is, he'll be 100% sure who it is and won't be doubting himself if he checks it.

he has come to terms with it now. he's comfortable in bed and he won't be asking himself or anyone else questions that'll lead to nothing. he's sure the one who gave him the bouquet will reveal themselves soon enough. like he told himself, 'he won't lose sleep over this.'

and he is about to drift off into sleep— until suddenly he remembers, and he jolts, sitting up.

he turns his head to look at the roses as his brain is overwhelmed with inquiry. price knows who it is. it's c/n. it's y/n. and now he just has more questions, some the same as previous ones but with the added confusion that it's you that got the flowers for him.

he is going to lose sleep over this after all.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish:

when soap first heard about the captain's situation, he thought it was hilarious. he got roses from an unknown individual? that's silly. he almost even started laughing seeing price so frustrated and baffled over a bouquet of plants.

though, after he said he didn't know anything about any flowers and price walked away in disappointment to go question his other sergeant, perhaps he was a little jealous. don't look at him like that. what's so wrong about maybe wanting a secret admirer?

unbeknownst to him, he would get a gift of his own in no time. when he got to the mess hall, he immediately spotted a box of something right on his table. he quickly went to the seat he always sits at, because of course he has a specific place to eat every day— and he hopes it isn't too obvious to the other soldiers nearby that he's resisting the urge to dash over and admire the supposed present.

when he finally gets to see the gift up close, he practically has stars in his eyes. the note on top of the box catches his eyes first before anything, a simple sentence of 'heard you had a sweet tooth.' typed on the printed out paper.

he has to resist a giddy grin creeping onto his face as he carefully slides the note aside, looking at the box of assorted chocolates in front of him. ultimately, he breaks, and a smile is instantly plastered on his face, already taking one of the sweets and plopping it into his mouth, humming contentedly.

he has the urge to dig into all of them because the candy is remarkably delicious and has his body tingling with dopamine, but fights it and chooses on savoring the gift, taking time to relish in each pieces' flavor.

he enjoys the way the first layers of chocolate slowly melts on his tongue and the taste of the equally chocolate-y syrup inside hits him like a freight train— it makes him appreciate the person who gave him this even more so.

don't worry though, johnny isn't too greedy. he saves the other half of the box for later.

eventually, he does lift his glued-on gaze from the gift to around the mess hall. though, he's met with the other soldiers giving him weird looks. and it does look kind of odd to be fair. a grown man, another soldier, in the mess hall eating a randomly fancy box of chocolates by himself.

despite the little awkward situation and the slightly unpleasant, silent walk out of the mess hall with the box in hand, you know he's walking around with a broad grin on his face for probably the next few days.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

to him, the similar occurrence between his captain and sergeant friend was strange. he'd heard identical stories from both of them now— the same concept of a mysterious offering given to them by a mysterious person.

he was wondering if the lieutenant got one too, and just hadn't told anyone. he was also questioning if he would get one as well. was this individual giving gifts to everyone in the task force?

well, he'd find out soon enough. the answer is most definitely yes.

he'd been dragged away by soap just right after a briefing, into a mostly empty hallway. and after a measly, short conversation and or slight argument about why gaz had been dragged here in the first place, and also why soap looked like he was holding in a giggle fit, the latter pulled out a box from his pocket. so he is getting a gift as well— same note and everything.

soap explains that he'd been requested by this 'anonymous person' to deliver him one as well, like a damn messenger pigeon.

so gaz takes the container carefully in hand before soap snickers and scurries away to do whatever.

he's pretty interested in what's inside as he properly takes a look at it. the box is flatter than your average box, black and sleek with of course, a small, yellow sticky note taped on top. 'this is one of our favourite memories. -unknown.'

he glances around the empty hallway for a moment, feeling a bit weird standing in a quiet hallway, opening a present by himself, alone. but nevermind that— he opens it, and kyle is met with.. a necklace. a silver necklace with a heart locket attached to the bottom.

he moderately cocks his head at the sight of the locket, then picks the necklace up with his right hand, the box still resting on the surface of the other. he opens the heart and squints, a mini photograph of himself and.. another recruit, wearing a mask, so he couldn't see their face. his hand was slung over their shoulder and they were doing the same to his, and despite them covering their face, he could still see a small smile on their face and his own.

he can remember this. he thinks he knows this. it was a group photo of the whole task force. there's the other soldiers in this photo too, but the photo is cropped in a way that you can only see him and the other comrade.

but he doesn't seem to.. remember who he was next to? something in his memory is bugged, like when you forget that one word but you also somewhat remember at the same time, or you forget what you were going to say while having a conversation with somebody.

it almost makes him as frustrated as price when he got his gift, but he wants to push those other emotions aside and just focus on the gratefulness he feels. to be honest he adores the necklace. he's sure he would think it suits him if he wore it and looked in the mirror.

and the picture.. he's still thinking about it. still looking at it. he finds the memory charming and sweet, even if he can't remember this soldier properly. he likes the way he can still see both of the happiness and smile in their eyes despite how tiny the image is. he likes the way he can see the shine and colour in their eyes in the dim light where the photo was taken.

the more he admires the jewelry the more he falls in love with it. the more he wants to cherish it and the mysterious fella who has gifted it to him.

after a lot of staring, and smiling at the present in hand, he finally closes the locket and slips the necklace on, briefly feeling the cold silver around his neck before it turns warm from his body heat.

and then he just walks off casually just like soap, who's probably waiting around the corner to ask "what'd you get?"

he now holds the box close to his chest as if he might keep that too, nearing the end of the hallway.

kyle's mind goes to the photo again, and his brain starts whirring with the thoughts of who it is.

but he's sure he'll remember later. he'll know who the person is soon enough, maybe if he sees them walking through the halls with that same mask. but either way, he knows he'll remember, and he'll thank them for this gift.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

now, he already knew he was going to get a gift as well, seeing as everyone in the task force but him has gotten at least something. he's heard price's predicament, johnny entering a briefing a little too happily with small bits of chocolate syrup near his lips, and kyle proudly walking around base wearing a necklace.

but he has some assumptions that the person didn't get anything for him. he's.. well, simon 'ghost' riley, after all. spooky, intimidating to most, tall dude.

but it seems his assumptions were incorrect, because he came back to his barracks after somewhat of a rough mission just to notice a a small, dark box oddly left on top of one of the shelves near his bed.

after easily retrieving the container, he examines it— and there's the typical 'note' from them, a few words written on top of the lid with a white marker. it reads, 'saw this and it reminded me of you. from a soldier friend of yours.'

.. but what if this 'soldier friend' has actually left a bomb inside of this? will it explode right now? a spy camera? is anybody watching?

you can't blame him for the skepticism. a strange box randomly appearing on one of your shelves? you would be hesitant to open it too.

after a few shakes he gives to the box to hear if anything suspicious is inside, he decides that it isn't a miniscule explosive or a secret camera or any other funky gadget.

simon opens it, and one of his eyebrows raises as an automatic response. a bracelet? specifically, a bracelet made of small, shiny, white pearls with a single flower charm.

but he's not ungrateful or doesn't like it, per se, he's just.. confused. as everyone else was.

confused that somebody thought to get him a gift. bought something for him that he never asked for or mentioned or even thought of himself.

it's not what he was expecting at all. a bracelet. really? for him? but why? he stands in that spot for a good minute, trying to make sense of this. but he's also trying to tell himself he doesn't care about this.

but there's a little creature in his heart or in his brain or something whispering to him that he actually kind of likes it.

he won't admit any of this— but he does end up keeping it, box and all. and he does like the gorgeous glossiness of the pearls and the intricate details and carvings of the charm.

he likes the way it feels on his wrist when he slides it on. it has a nice, cool feeling, but not cold enough for it to be uncomfortable. like the way a cold pillow feels nice against your head.

and from that day forward, if you look closely enough, you can always see a glimpse of a shiny piece of jewelry peeking through the bottom of ghost's sleeve.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Sweet Treat

daemon x stepdaughter!reader prequel (other part)

A/N: this can be read before or after the other part

TW: smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), spanking, kinda brat taming 

word count: 1,108 words

You do have limits to how much you tease your stepfather… usually, but recently you haven’t been getting nearly enough attention. You walk around the house with no bra under your crop tops and no shorts under your skirts but he hardly spares you a glance. Maybe that's why you walk down the stairs that night in a nightgown that would definitely be classified as lingerie. The material is sheer everywhere except your most private areas and you’ve paired it with cute fuzzy white socks. You walk into the kitchen and see him sitting in his armchair in the living room with a glass of red wine in his left hand and some book about Old Valyria in his right. He doesn’t even look up as you strut by. You huff a little.

“Do we have any ice cream?” That gets him to look at you. You get no visible reaction to how you’re dressed except the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Bit late for that isn’t it, darling?” His eyes give you a once over.

“Fine, don't tell me.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, little girl.” He’s reading his book again. You don’t know how he even saw the action.

You brush it off and walk over to the freezer. You could crouch to open it but you don’t, choosing to bend over instead. The silk of your nightgown rides up your thighs and over your ass. You can’t tell if he’s watching, but he is. You wish you could see the look of shock on his face when he realizes that you aren’t wearing any panties. He watches you closely as you rummage through the freezer, his eyes drinking up the sight of your most intimate area on perfect display. It would be so easy for him to just take you now but he keeps his restraint.

“Daddy, I can’t find the ice cream.”

Bullshit. He thinks to himself and also, since when do you call him daddy? He hates how it makes his pants tighten.

“It’s in there.” He knows he shouldn’t go over there.

“Help me find it.” You whine petulantly. 

Fuck it. He thinks and saunters over to you. He stands behind you as you keep pretending to look. His finger trails up your bare thigh and gives your butt a light squeeze before placing his hands on your hips and pulling you into his crotch. He then bends over you and grabs the ice cream right out of the freezer.

“In plain sight, princess.” 

“Oops. I guess I missed it.” You begin to stand as he places the tub on the counter but his large hand on your upper back stops you. “What-” He cuts you off.

“You know this nightgown is very skimpy for such a young girl.” He plays with the silk as he holds you firmly in place.

“I’m an adult.” You blush intensely at him feeling you up.

“Hardly.” He folds the hem up so he can see more. “I’ve seen more threads on a spider’s web. And no panties? You’ve been quite the naughty little thing.” He pulls your legs apart so he can get a better view of your bare cunt. His fingers run up and down, caressing your inner thigh. “Is this all for daddy’s attention?” 

“Why would I want your attention? You’re old.” You manage to spit out at him.

“Oh how you wound me.” He says condescendingly. “If i’m so old then I definitely have experience with little brats who like to show off.”

“I’m not a brat.” You protest and he chuckles.

“But you are. You’re a naughty, attention-seeking brat who likes flashing her bare cunt to her stepfather.” He pushes down on your back a little harder, forcing you to bend over more. “I know just what a spoiled girl like you needs.”

“W-What?” You can’t decide if you’re more nervous or aroused.

“A nice little spanking from her daddy.” He doesn’t give you a chance to protest before you feel the first smack.

“Ah!” You gasp and the second smack is harder. “Daddy, it hurts!” You cry out as he continues to swat your ass. Your skin begins to redden under his palm.

“Stop whining. You deserve this.” You get another two harsh swats before he begins to rub your punished flesh. “My naughty girl.” His fingers tease around before they slide between your folds. “Oh you liked it when I spanked you. I’ve never felt a pussy this wet.” He teases and you whimper. “You want a little reward, baby?”

“Y-Yes… please.” You breathe out and he slips a finger in, curling it to hit the spot. Your hands grip the handle of the freezer for support as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Stand up straight and turn around. I want a taste.” You’re quick to obey him as he kneels in front of you. “Hold your nighty up, princess.” You grab the hem and hold it up around your waist. He grips your thighs with his big hands and spreads your legs open, before pressing a gentle, teasing kiss to your inner thigh. You can’t explain how good you feel as he licks a strip up your folds. It feels even better when he groans at the taste of you. He eats you like it’s his last meal, like your arousal tastes better than ambrosia and nectar combined. Your hand reaches down to grip his hair. He looks like a god on his knees for his goddess.

“Daemon.” You moan his name, whispering it again and again like a mantra. He wants to be annoyed that you didn’t call him daddy but his name sounds so perfect when it falls from your sweet, soft lips. You squeal lightly as he nips at your clit, your hold on his hair tightening and you can swear that you feel him smirk against you. He brings his fingers up to help him, using them to tease your rough spot inside while his tongue works at your clit. He feels you tighten around him as you reach your peak, squirming as you whimper his name once more. He uses his fingers to fuck you through your high before pulling them out and licking them clean.

“My good girl.” He praises as he rises to his feet. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He desperately wants to fuck you right now but his sweet little girl looks so dazed. He’ll leave that for tomorrow.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

[artificial-transmutations]

Can you believe it?

10.02.2024

Can you fucking believe it?

As most of you know, I'm working for LifeCorp, and you won't believe what they just did to me! I'm pissed!

My job is, apparently, becoming 'obsolete' with the whole AI thing bla bla bla. But! Of course, they don't want to fire me. Instead, they're offering me alternative positions. So far so good, right? But do you know which positions they offered me?

- Security Guard

- Janitor

- Escort

Not that bad, right? I mean I don't have the skillset for any of those, but that is apparently no problem, because these jobs come with a fucking mandatory life change if I take them?

Apparently, my usual charming self is not enough:

What kind of bullshit is this? Normal companies ask you to move if you want to keep your job, LifeCorp requires you take on a whole new body, just to keep working for them.

You think that's outrageous? It gets better. Apparently, none of those jobs is suitable for a woman. I can be a male security guard, a male janitor or a male escort. And when I complained about it, they just said that for security guard and janitor, a strong body is a requirement, and they have enough female escorts already. What a bunch of assholes! There's absolutely no way I'm gonna take one of those jobs.

Love, Tracy

***

14.02.2024

Have you seen LifeCorp's newest shit post? The valentine's day special? The audacity!

Stacy and Zara are now fricking men? No doubt they have been bullied to make that change. You know what this company has? A fucking frat-boy attitude. More and more people are becoming guys, "BeCaUsE tHeY wAnT tO". Bullshit. It's clear to me that the upper management wants to see more dick in their company. Probably a cocksucker like Stacy and Zara have become. I'll talk to them first chance tomorrow.

Oh, and Matthew? Why would anyone want to become a Latino?!

Love, Tracy

***

18.02.2024

Okay, I talked to Stacy and Zara (No, I won't call them "Steel and Zacharias", these are still women!). They were all "Oh, we're so much happier now" and "We're finally being our true selves" and "You should do the same, really."

It's a fucking brainwash. I mean, they haven't been right in their mind to begin with (they had the delusion of being a couple - ha! Couples are one man and one woman, nothing else!), but it's becoming veeery clear to me that they have been forced and brainwashed. And I will find proof for that!

Love, Tracy

***

18.02.2024 - 2

Okay, I'm fuming now. I told my boyfriend about that whole job situation. And you know what he said? You know what he fucking said?

"Ok. Do whatever makes you happy."

He just said "Ok" and was all cool about it! He even had the audacity to tell me that they didn't force me to do anything and that I could just find a new job if I didn't want any of that bodies.

But the best part is still to come. He said, and I quote, "Just make sure to ask them to make me gay if you take any of those jobs, so we can still be together." I mean... wow. That's a reason for a breakup just there. He's a fricking man, or at least that's what I thought up until now. The thought of becoming gay should have been something that made him sick!

But, oh no. He's fine with it. Disgusting! I need to re-think this relationship.

Love, Tracy

***

19.02.2024

I have a plan!

I'm going to accept one of LifeCorps offers. No, hear me out. I'm gonna accept - and then I'll sue them. Discrimination, kidnapping, something like that. I'm gonna be rich. Oh, and about my boyfriend? He's gonna have it his way. I'll make sure they make him the fag he begs to be and then break up with him. This'll teach him. Good thing he doesn't read this feed.

I'm just too clever for this world. Take that, LifeCorp!

Gonna take the janitor, though. With all their fake diversity and stuff, the guard and escort probably aren't even white.

Love, Tracy

***

22.02.2024

I just got a letter congratulating me on my choice and that they are happy to keep me as an employee. Ha. If these losers knew.

Love, Tracy

***

26.02.2024

Holy shit! How do you guys even walk with that thing?

Needless to say, I got my new body. Here's what I look like now:

Apparently, they meant it well with me, cause my new dick is just... enormous. And they gave me some huge balls to match it, too.

The muscles aren't all that bad, either - I just feel big and powerful all around. The hair will take some getting used to, but it's not for long, after all. After I sue them, I'll demand my original body back.

I do have to admit, I'm feeling good, though. So much more powerful, but calm and happy at the same time. I wonder if this is a guy thing or a me thing? Is that how my boyfriend feels all the time?

Oh, gosh. My boyfriend. He's probably gay already, so I should break up with...

But that would be really mean. Also, thinking about him just made my new member react. It's kinda straining my underwear now. These things really do have a mind of their own, right?

What was I writing about? Yes, my boyfriend. Why did I want to break up with him? I mean, he's just cute like a button, right? I just realize what a gigantic asshole I was, planning to break up with him. I'll have to apologize. Or, even better, I'll apologize by showing show him this huge package I got. That's what he wanted, right?

I should really go. Don't want to keep him waiting.

...

You know what? I think I'll try out this new life before I make any more rushed decision. So far, I enjoy being a dude a lot and I'm actually looking forward to my new job. And my new-old boyfriend. And they didn't even force me to do anything. Perhaps I should ask them to adjust my ethnicity later on, though - I feel a bit more adventurous now. Also, I think I'll go by Trace now. It's an unusual name, but I like it.

Sorry for being such an ass before. Well, speaking of ass - off to get some.

Bye!

- Trace

[sygol]

Why do all queer people suddenly have to be ok with pedophile/incest/zoo shit? "Block and move on" doesn't change the fact that I see people interacting with genuine fucking cp. I report what I can and I'm told I'm an exclusionist anti kink homophobe. This isn't fucking healthy for anyone.

i cant speak for everything but i think you're being delusional, most queer people are not pedophiles, youre probably referring to ageplay (adults pretending to act in ways that can't tangibly harm children), most queer people are not zoophiles, you're probably referring to furrys or therians etc (adults pretending to act in ways that can't tangibly harm animals), most queer people are not even doing incest with their familial siblings, they are doing fauxcest (adults pretending to act in ways outside the sanctity of your nuclear family ideals).

if you see art that depicts animal/furry sex or incest or rape, you have to understand that this is not tangibly harming anymore, depictions of underage characters or adults pretending to be children is not cp and to say something like this is offensive to actual csa survivors. i say all this because what you're saying sounds extremely reactionary and based on a facist narrative. like no, most queer people are not grooming children or fucking dogs, youre regurgitating bullshit.

i dont have time to explain the more complex grey areas of the world we live in, becsuse its not as simple as "this notion is good and that notion is bad" but you need to first off understand, that your disgust does not equate to harm, if you are uncomfortable with something, it is not the fault of other people to conform to how you think they should behave. harm in this context is when someone who doesnt want to be engaging with something is being forced or coerced into it. consider asking people if they are being harmed instead of projecting your own expectations onto them.

of course there exists specific cases of actual children being abused and animals being harmed and then something should probably be done, for the victims, the harm should be rectified. instead of trying to punish the abuser (doesnt work). if you actually care about not being a reactionary homophobe, then read a book about prison abolition and queer history in the context of facism and stop hassling me about it, its not my job to learn you how to stop being a pinhead

[hazelfoureyes]

Sending in anon because I'm a coward... 😩

I'm a new reader, and I just have to say-- your "a doe in fall" series is just... AMAZING!!

I could go on, and on and on about how much I love it. But what gets me the most is always Alastor's dialogue, because as someone who is also on the aro/ace spectrum, I just get it so much. Especially the subtle hoping that reader can like... Read his mind about how he feels for her, and the weird sort of stockholm syndrome we sometimes develop with ourselves after being alone with only our own company for so long, and it really is, lol, like you just get so used to being alone for so long because you know the idea people have of you, you can't truly live up to, so you don't want to "disappoint" them that you actually aren't like they are, so you just sorta... Keep them occupied at arms length-- Therefore you're forced to adapt to your company being the only love you have for a long time. it's like an obligation.

And when or if the special somebody who understands you comes along, you realize... "Wow, I've been living like this for so long, is this what it feels like to be loved and appreciated, in spite of my oddities, or maybe even in favor of them? Strange..."

Emphasis on the "strange" part because, when you're so deeply entrenched in your own soul, sharing your space for another almost feels more like learning how to swim rather than an instant "click", sparks, fireworks and whatnot. The excitement of the magical "other" has been long since drowned and snuffed out of you.

So, when this somebody who is similar to you, or just simply understands, doesn't try to change you or ignore you, but instead envelopes you and adores you, the appreciation is deep and overflowing. But there's a part of you always pinching your heart, a sort of awareness of something that isn't the case, wondering "Is this a dream? what if it is and I'll wake up and this is not at all what I was thinking?".

Haha... ANYWAY, sorry for the slightly morose and LONG read 😂 But I always think of how similar I am to how you write alastor and it's scary in a way, but comforting (especially since he's my first and biggest fictional crush) except in this case my profession would actually be burlesque. Especially since I work in the exotic dance world. It's fascinating being aro/ace in the SW world, I could go on forever- But yeah, I absolutely love your writing!! Makes me feel less alone in this world. Annnd surprisingly I always feel so sensual after reading, I love love love it!! Reading before work always gets me in the mood to dance and pretend I'm Y/N, lol!!

Much blessings ❤️❤️

*cracks knuckles* listen here babycakes, I eat this shit UP. Exploring Human Ace Alastor is my BREAD AND BUTTER. I go into ESSAYS in the AO3 comments in this 😂

you really understand, which makes me so happy and is confirmation I’m conveying him the way I want to.

Now I’m gonna ramble and echo you basically 😂

I really think Alastor (atleast in this story) feels that excitement and strangeness of how open he can be around Autumn (since she doesn’t have a proper name cuz she’s reader 😂). He’s a fish out of water despite the fact he’s actually being his most authentic self. Like you said, it’s new to him just to be … Alastor. To be honest and upfront. His normal operating mode has been so restricted for so long he’s struggling with how to be himself. And then that fear—- well what if I’m too much? What if I ruin this, when I finally have something worth keeping? He’s never gotten this far and the fear of losing that comfort is terrifying but so is the actual comfort itself. It’s new and foreign.

A deep uneasiness that’s if he fully embraces this he’s gonna just fuck it up and it’ll be his fault this time. Not a misunderstanding or misalignment of needs but a confirmation he wasn’t good enough anyway.

“it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all” he would say that’s bullshit

and because of the situations he’s been in before, he’s never gotten to actually explore physical intimacy in a “safe” environment. He was always going into interactions because he had to if he wanted to keep people around. It was a necessity, not something he actually sincerely wanted to participate. So he tried to keep them happy with other means of affection and intimacy to maintain some safe distance but eventually, always, things would fall apart. At a distance or up close.

that’s why that most recent part was called Learning. Alastor is trying new things to learn more about what he’s okay with or doesn’t care for even offering in the future. Autumn is learning (that night, tho she doesn’t understand it yet) that he’s still figuring out how to meet her halfway (even tho she’s not even asking for that) when he’s used to being forced to meet people where they are. And Detective Brady, of course, is learning he may have found motive for Tommy’s disappearance.

I’m really glad you’re enjoying his portrayal and that you’re resonating with parts of him! That makes my soul hum! 💖 your line of work mixed with your Aro/Ace-ness sounds like such an interesting conversation if we’re honest! That’s a small aspect I love about Autumn. She’s in this field that’s (wrongly) considered to be hyper sexual and full of air headed wanton whores, but she’s the first person to be like “oh! You aren't into this stuff. Let me adjust my expectations. I’ll ask for clear verbal consent, not initiate, and I’m totally okay with never fucking again if it’s for your love and company.”

I work in the SW industry in a sense (Personal Assistant) and one of my biggest pet peeves is all of the shit people project on SWers.

sorry for the essay I could talk about this for ETERNITY

omg and THANK YOU! 🥺💖💖💖💖

Referencing:

A Doe in Fall (Human Alastor x Burlesquer Fem Reader)

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦

[deerlottie]

🦝— jealous

summary: nat tries to make you jealous by hanging out with travis. it backfires on her. warnings: 18+ MDNI, boot riding, bratty nat.

it’s taking everything in you not to make a scene right now. you were supposed to be hunting with nat, but she decided to take travis for some reason. you watch as he wraps his arms around her as they leave the cabin, and jealousy rears its ugly head as she doesn’t attempt to shrug it off. a sinking sensation materializes in the pit of your belly– what if he tries something with her out there? you let out an exasperated scoff, rushing to the attic ladder and climbing up before you cry in front of the girls. you slam the entrance shut, jumping in shock when you turn around and see someone by the window.

“sorry…didn’t know anyone was up here.” you apologize. –

it’s shauna, who is sitting in the window sill, writing in that journal of hers. she conceals it from you as if you could read her secrets from that far away. you walk towards her, opting to lay on one of the blankets on the floor and hide your face in your arms. “is everything okay?” shauna asks, closing up her journal and walking over to sit next to you.

“it’s nat.” you sigh. “i think she’s trying to make me jealous. with travis of all people.” you confide, turning your head towards her. you’re met with apologetic brown eyes. shauna scoots closer to you and rests her hand on your shoulder, rubbing in consolation. you melt into the touch and she smiles sweetly.

“don’t let it get to you. she’s crazy about you.” shauna reassures you. you know it’s true, you and nat are obsessed with each other but still– you can’t help but let jealousy overtake you. “nat would never cheat on you.”

“i know, i know. i just hate this feeling. why can she never tell me what’s going on with her?” you sigh, feeling annoyed with natalie. you love her, truly, but you wished she talked about her feelings with you more.

“maybe talk to her when she gets back?” shauna suggests, shrugging.

the hunting trips you and nat take usually last a little over an hour, mostly because you two were busy making out instead of hunting but it’s not your fault her lips are your favorite.

you just hope she’ll be back earlier than that.

since you had time to kill, you decided to go out and cut some wood with jackie, who is currently sitting on a log looking pretty while watching you do all the work. you roll your eyes but continue to chop some pieces up for the fire later tonight.

“you could always help you know?” you tease, smirking softly. you didn’t mind it to be completely honest, you think she’d end up chopping off a leg if she attempted to help anyway.

as you bring the axe down to the last piece of wood, you hear nat’s muffled voice announcing that she and travis are back. you instantly feel dread fill your whole body. the rest of the girls come out to help with the animal they shot and shauna gives you an encouraging nod towards nat. you suck in a breath and walk towards her. she’s already looking at you, but quickly averts her gaze when she notices you walking towards you.

“i need to talk to you.” you cross your arms.

“then talk.”

you huff and drag her by the sleeve to the shed, shutting the door behind you with force. you hear her scoff at your roughness and the fire in you ignites.

“what’s your fucking problem?” you whisper-shout, trying to keep quiet so none of the other girls goes eavesdropping.

nat rolls her eyes at you. “nothing. i don’t have a problem.”

“clearly, you do if you’re going around trying to make me jealous using travis.” you retort. how can she stand here and lie to you?!

“this is what you dragged me in here for?” nat crosses her arms and leans back against the shed wall. “bullshit. i’m not trying to make you jealous.”

you walk towards her, getting up in her face before speaking. “you can never admit you’re in the wrong, can you, natty?” you see her lips shake before they turn tight-lipped. “you could’ve just told me you needed attention from me.”

her eyes droop for a moment, and you can see a faint bob in her throat as she swallows a big gulp. suddenly, she flips your position as she pins you against the wooden wall. “you’re right. i need your attention.” nat leaves hot-mouthed kisses against your neck. “think you can give it to me now?” her hands slip under your shirt, nails racking up your sides teasingly.

you hate how easily she can switch up like this, but you’re not complaining now. you hum in agreement and bring her in for a kiss, her tongue slipping into your mouth.

“use your words, pretty girl,” she says after pulling away from the kiss. there’s playfulness dancing in her eyes as she awaits your confirmation, thumb rubbing against your lips in the meantime.

“yes. let me give it to you, please, natty?” you beg, desperation replacing any annoyance you felt towards her earlier. you grip the sides of her shirt, trying to cling to her.

“get down on your knees.”

almost immediately, you do as she says. the smirk she gives you as you look up at her makes you throb. nat brings her hand to your chin and coos. “such an obedient little thing for me.” she chuckles at your small whine.

nat steps closer, moving her right foot in front of your center. you start to shake with excitement– you know what she’s doing. you steadily bring your hand up to her leg, scooting your body until you’re sitting on her boot. you let out a needy moan as you gently start to grind against it.

“good girl. keep going.” nat praises. she unbuckles her belt and brings her jeans and underwear down to her thighs, shoving your face in her pussy. you inhale her scent before sticking out your tongue and licking a stripe up to her clit, sucking it into your mouth.

you feel her lift her boot, rubbing against your throbbing clit in just the right way. “fuck, natty.” your voice is muffled. you grip her leg tighter, feeling like a dog in heat as you hump her boot. her hand that’s tangled in your hair gets firmer as the vibrations from your moans help her get off.

“fuck…loveyouloveyouloveyou,” she repeats, voice getting whinier by the minute. “cum with me, baby.”

you decide to stick out your tongue completely and just let her grind against it– that’s all you can do right now since your brain is going all fuzzy from the feeling of her leather boot against your clothed pussy. you both orgasm at the same time, moaning each other's names as you do so.

nat pulls you back up to her height and kisses you, arms slipping around your neck. “love you so much.” she rests her forehead against yours, stroking your cheek with care. “promise i’ll get better at this whole ‘telling you my feelings’ thing.” she chuckles softly.

“love you too, natty.”

[kvtie444]

⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET .8

summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Standing outside the sorority house, I try to balance myself against the wall, waiting for Matt. The warm summer night feels comforting as he's on his way. Bright headlights approach, and I shield my eyes, peering through my fingers – Matt's car. I push off the wall, stumbling towards the vehicle. A car door opens, and there's Matt.

Oddly although I missed him, I dread seeing him. I focus my vision as he walks over, his blue eyes more intense than ever. He takes hold of my waist without a word, guiding me into the car and opening the door for me. I drop into the seat, leaning back and tilting my head, gazing at the other side of the car. Matt's hair brushes my face as he reaches over, buckling my seatbelt before closing my door and settling into the driver's seat. Instead of starting the car, he sighs, looking visibly stressed. Then, it hits me.

"Why did you drive here when I live down the road?" I ask, studying his side profile as he keeps his focus on the steering wheel. "Why did you call me instead of just walking there yourself?" he retorts quickly. I swallow, glancing at my lap. I feel like such an idiot.

"Need gas anyways," he mumbles before starting the car and heading to the station. I prop my arms by my window, leaning my head against them and staring out. It's awkward. Should I try to make conversation? Yes.

"I finished that book you gave me – Tristes Tropiques," I speak up. He hums in agreement quietly. The truth is, after he ended things with me, I reread it three times over the weekend, reading his annotations. I loved his handwriting, trying to understand how his brain works. Another silence.

"Are we nearly there yet?" I mumble, sitting up and looking at him. Silence. "Do you think when we get there, I could grab a drin-" "Jesus, y/n, can you just shut the fuck up? For one fucking minute, just stop running your mouth? Huh?" he cuts me off, looking at me and slamming his hand against the steering wheel after each question. I bite my tongue for a moment, keeping my gaze fixed on him. We stay silent until we reach the gas station, Matt unbuckling his seatbelt.

"You're such a dick," I mumble my thoughts. Matt whips his head to me, "Y/n, I don't wanna deal with your shit right now, okay?" he raises his voice, motioning his hand up towards me. I push his hand away, "Stop yelling at me," I grumble. He grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him, his hot breath fanning over my face. His eyes stay fixed on mine, now icy and cold. "Get your fucking shit together," he hisses at me, pushing me away from him. He opens the car door and slams it, going to fill up his car.

My eyes brim with water, and I'm quick to wipe them. I never wanted him to see me hurt ever again. I watch as he walks inside the station to pay. I hated how he was still in this facade, putting up with this nonchalant bullshit. I look down at my phone and check the time when I hear Matt get back in. He tosses a bottle of Gatorade and a cereal bar on my lap without a word. I decide it's best to keep my mouth shut and tear open the packet, taking a bite.

・₊✧ Matt pov ˚｡⋆

I was pissed at her, hating when she drank like this; it was irresponsible. I see her twist the cap of the Gatorade, her unsteady hand going up to her lips when she spills some on her lap, staining her white outfit. I sigh. She's quick to put the drink in the cup holder and tries to pat it dry with her hand. "I’m sorry," she mumbles, rubbing harder against the fabric of her skirt. I swallow, watching her frustrated state. "I'm sorry," she repeats, her voice breaking, and her rubbing becomes impossibly more aggressive. I see tears brim in her eyes, and my heart breaks. I grab her wrist, forcing her to look at me. "It’s okay, just leave it, okay?" I plead. She sniffs and pushes my hands away from her, then reaches for the car door. She gets out. Shit.

I’m quick to get out and follow her, not even bothering to shut my door behind me. "Y/n, get back in the car," she ignores me and keeps walking down the road. "You’re drunk, just get back in." Ignored again, I realize what she's doing. She's giving me the same treatment I gave her. I reach her and grab her arm, turning her back to me. "Can you just get back in the car, please?" "Get the fuck off me!" her voice breaks, pushing me away. I just stare at her, dry tears on her cheek that glistened in the moonlight. "You told me you fucking loved me, then you completely ghosted me. I mean, what the fuck, Matt?" she cries. I run my hand through my hair. "It’s more complicated than that, Y/n, come on, you know why I had to do that," I try to keep my cool, using a softer tone than earlier. There’s a silence, the only sound being passing cars by the road.

"Tell me you don't love me," she breaks the silence. I almost choke up. "Y/n, we're not together anymore," I mumble. Her eyes shift, but she keeps her stand, looking up at me. "Tell me you don't love me anymore," she repeats. Fuck.

I don't know how to play my card right now. I could lie, tell her I don't. But that would break her. I want her to do better, be a better person without me. Or I could tell her the truth. I still love her more than myself.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tag list !!

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[nickfowlerrr]

such a tease

pairing: stucky x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. idk lol.

words: 1.4k

notes: trying to practice writing shorter fics so here’s a lil oneshot. enjoy!

thank you in advance for reading. feedback and comments are always welcome and so appreciated! 🩵

“Steve, this isn’t a joke. Where did you put it?”

You’re kneeling on the floor, peering under his bed as you continue your search. You hear his smug chuckle and your eyes narrow. You sit up and turn to look at him over your shoulder as he stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest... his biceps bulging against the sleeves of his shirt…

No. No distractions right now. You force your eyes up to his face as he smirks down at you.

“I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, Rogers,” you call him out as you stand up and stride over to him, jabbing him with a finger and doing your best to look intimidating but knowing full well you were failing as his smirk grew and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Look, you give it back now and I won’t breathe a word of this to Bucky. Scout's honor,” you say as you cross your fingers behind your back and hold up three on your other hand.

Steve laughs, genuinely laughs, and it confuses you for a second before he pushes off the doorframe, uncrossing his arms and turns you around.

Your face falls stoic as you’re met with your reflection in the mirror behind you. Steve’s hands are still on your arms as he presses closer against you, his lips right against your ear as he speaks through his never faltering smile, “You really need to work on being more perceptive, doll.”

“I’m plenty perceptive, pretty boy,” you reply haughtily as you push your hips back, your ass pressing against him. You watch as his jaw tightens and his hands squeeze you just a bit tighter, his eyes shutting as he wets his lip. You can’t help but smirk in turn at his reaction. “You have something of mine. And I want it back. So, either you give it to me or I’ll have Bucky get it back from you instead.”

“You keep saying that,” he laughs, “but I think I’m gonna call your bluff. I don’t think Bucky even knows about it. And I have a feeling you don’t want him to know, either,” he whispers against your ear as his broad hands fall to your waist.

You try to stifle your gasp as he pulls you back more firmly, holding you to him. You deflate just a bit as you realize he’s seen right through your lifeless “threats”.

"Steve," you whine, letting your head rest back on his chest as you pout up at him, placing your hands over his as he continues holding you. He meets your gaze and smiles down at you, bending to place a soft kiss on your lips. "Pleeease," you murmur against his lips, hoping he'll give in this time.

You really never know with Steve, some days all it takes is a bat of your lashes to get him to fold and other days he truly has the resolve of... well, him.

The nipping of his teeth on your lip as he pulls away lets you know the last thing on his mind is giving in.

"It's a surprise, Steve. Don't ruin it," you complain, turning to face him.

He tuts, apparently insulted at the insinuation. "Ye of such little faith," he admonishes. "If anything, I'm doing you a favor, sweetheart. Your hiding place isn't as secret as you'd like to think. It's in a much safer spot, now. Scout's honor," he smirks, coping your earlier actions. You roll your eyes at him before trying a new tactic.. You need the album before Bucky gets back, the rest of his belated birthday gift all wrapped and just waiting for the final addition.

"I get it," you nod in faux compassion, eyes gazing into his bright blue greens. "You're jealous," your voice is laced with pity as you bring a hand to his solid chest.

He grabs your hand roughly and tugs you, keeping you close against him.

"Maybe I am," he admits. "Why does Buck get all those pretty pictures and not me?"

"Because," you begin, walking into him as he allows you to lead him back, "they were his birthday present; special, just for him. With all the work we've been doing these past few months, things just got pushed back, took a while to get everything together," you shrug.

"And, there's no reason to be jealous, baby. You'll be getting your very own next month. Different pictures, of course. Special," you say as you lean up on your tip toes, your lips brushing against his, "just for you."

You can't help the giggle that escapes you as Steve grabs you and picks you up with no effort at all. You're on your back on his bed in the blink of an eye with Steve on top of you as he attacks you with kisses.

"Such a god damn tease, you know that?" he breaths heavily against your skin as he tugs down your bottoms, taking your panties with them.

"So I've been told," you smile as you lay back and shamelessly watch him undress before you. You pull your top off and don't wait for Steve to lower himself back down to you, instead sitting up on your haunches. Steve follows your lead and sits on the bed when he finishes undressing. You waste no time as you crawl onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Steve pulls you closer and crashes his lips to yours.

You can feel his cock hard against you and you smile into the kiss.

It's hot and heavy and you're nearly panting as you just enjoy the feeling of one another's bodies being so close, his lips so soft and pillowy against yours, you could just stay like this all night.

The loud clearing of someone's throat has you pulling away from Steve and turning to the open doorway.

"Hey, babe," you say breathlessly as Steve continues trailing his lips down your neck.

"What happened to waiting it out til I got home?" Bucky asks, playfully unimpressed as he strides into the room, already pulling off his jacket as he gets closer.

"He started it," you defend as Bucky stands before you, grabbing your chin before leaning down for a kiss of his own, then taking hold of Steve's and pulling him off you to take his lips in his own.

"Did he, now?" Buck asks as he keeps hold of Steve who smirks in response.

"You said you'd be an hour, you've been gone since twelve. You're welcome for waiting as long as we did."

"Yeah," Bucky scoffs before letting him go and pulling off his shirt. You watch him, always so awestruck by him - by both of them, honestly - as Steve nuzzles into your neck. His lips are pressed to your ear, and he whispers just loud enough for you to hear.

"It's in your closet."

"I looked there," you say confused.

"I was moving it around after you," he smirks boyishly, biting back a laugh.

"You're such an asshole," you smile, pushing him playfully as you climb off his lap and off the bed.

You slap Bucky's ass as you pass by him while he throws his discarded briefs into Steve's laundry basket, turning to you with blue eyes dark already, looking up and down your naked form, hunger clear on his face. You bite your lip as you eye him in return. "Be right back," you simper before turning and scurrying off to finish his gift basket.

Your heart feels like it could burst as you hear his and Steve's laughter mingle from the other room. You finally get your hands on the album you'd spent the last hour searching for and arrange it just right in the center of Bucky's gift basket. When it looks just right, you sneak it to Bucky's room and place it carefully on his still neatly made bed. You’ll make sure he sees it later.

You saunter back to Steve's and admire your men from the doorway. Their grunts and moans are intoxicating, and you feel yourself growing more and more hot and bothered the longer you watch. You whimper when Steve lets out a throaty groan as Bucky attacks his neck, his hand never stopping as he keeps pumping Steve’s hard length. You're practically salivating when Bucky's teasing voice breaks you from your trance.

"You just gonna stand there all pretty and dripping and watch or you gonna actually join us, sweetheart?"

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on remadora?

thank you very much for the asks, anons!

while they are by no means my otp, i really enjoy remadora as pairing - and i think they’re fully up there among the canon couples in terms of being an amazing vehicle through which to explore all sorts of questions about life and love - which i am aware is a sufficiently controversial statement that it involves an immediate engagement with some discourse…

because remadora girlies [gender neutral] get an enormous amount of shit within the fandom, particularly from fans who consider wolfstar to be a more plausible pairing for lupin than tonks. i have seen remadora shippers called homophobes for simply enjoying the couple, justified with the bizarre idea that it disrespects remus' relationship with sirius [so... the non-canon one?] to put them together. i have seen tonks turned into a pathetic shrew who is trying to keep remus from the real love of his life by trapping him with an unwanted baby. i have seen remadora shippers get a lot of the usual stuff that people who prefer the canon-endgame couples do [that to ship a canon pair is boring, that it is indicative of a lack of talent, that it indicates an uncritical support for jkr] magnified to eleven because tonks has the temerity to be a barrier to remus’ relationship with the fandom’s favourite hot and brooding man.

obviously, this is bullshit - primarily because its unreasonable and cruel to invest so much time and energy being mean to people because of their harry potter shipping preferences [fandom should never be that deep].

but it’s also a disappointment to me personally because it means that it can be very hard to find the sort of remadora i like without looking like i’m coming to contribute to the pile-on. because where many remadora fans and i don’t see eye-to-eye is that i have absolutely no interest in thinking about them as a relationship which is actually functional. and, all too often, i find myself sifting through fics which do prefer to interpret them like this - as romantic and passionate and stable - largely, i think it’s fair to say, as a defensive move against the tide of “urgh, imagine shipping that” nonsense - even though all the evidence of canon is that they are… very much not.

i am aware of the pottermore article which smoothes the edges of lupin’s canonical reaction to tonks’ feelings for him in half-blood prince - but, while i read this as something of a retcon to make the relationship more palatable, i also don’t think that assuming that both tonks and lupin’s attraction to each other was sincere precludes them being as dysfunctional as they canonically are. i don’t go in for the common anti-remadora argument that tonks “forces” him into a relationship with her - it’s clear in half-blood prince that it’s not only her who has discussed her feelings with molly and arthur weasley, lupin is definitely flirting with her when they pick harry up in order of the phoenix, lupin is an adult man [no matter other power imbalances between him and tonks - such as the fact that she is an agent of the state which oppresses him] who possesses the capacity to refuse her advances, and - since teddy’s conception is not immaculate - he has no issue with enjoying a sexual relationship with her even if he then wants to run away from the product of that.

instead, what i like with remadora is that they reveal something which goes against the grain of the rest of the series: that love is not always enough. throughout the seven-book canon, we see time and time again the idea that love - and, crucially, love-as-noble-suffering and love-as-sacrifice - is enough to overcome any problem. entire civil service collaborating with a terrorist regime? don’t trouble yourself, love has won. your mother dying in childbirth leaving you to be neglected in a state institution? your own fault you’re not interested in love.

i understand the genre reasons for this, but i also love the way in which lupin especially exists on the margins of these genre conventions [just as he exists on the margins of wizarding society!]. i’m always struck in deathly hallows that he’s the only person who’s actually realistic about the demands of war - particularly when he tells harry that it is breathtakingly naive for him to think he can get through the fighting without having to shoot to kill - and that part of him having to be shuffled out of the way when harry tells him to return to the pregnant tonks is because, were the story focused on realism, the idea that a wanted man who is considered an unhuman by the state fleeing in order to guarantee the safety of his wife and unborn child becomes eminently reasonable and harry's defense of the nuclear family embarrassingly unradical.

and so i like the idea of lupin seeing tonks - and tonks seeing lupin - initially as just a bit of fun, as the two of them being just two chill single people who think the other is hot and interesting and want to bang because of it.

[which is something fandoms in general really struggle with as a concept. we like epic love stories - and you won't find me objecting to that! - but we're less good at thinking about casual sexual attraction or transient friendships, and how these can be transformative and meaningful without having to end up going any sort of distance.]

and i then like the idea of the relationship being forced into a profundity it doesn’t really have the juice to sustain by the sheer avalanche of grief which besets the two of them - sirius, dumbledore, mad-eye, ted - and by the pressure of the war and the fact that the order is scrambling and the hangover of remus' self-destruction in half-blood prince which makes each cling to the other as a life-raft. i like remadora as something codependent and messy and strange and sad, and i don’t think this prevents it being sincere and fun and based in mutual attraction, but instead that these positive qualities can exist in conjunction with the fact that, without the war, it would have been a summer of fucking and that was probably it.

on tonks herself, i don’t think i can say it better than @evesaintyves in this meta on her character. i’ve been really uncomfortable with quite a lot of stuff i’ve seen recently which has taken against the idea that tonks can be meaningfully read as queer on the basis of what we find in the text, above all because it so often comes with the implication that one cannot imagine her in her canon endgame pairing and presume that she’s something other than straight or cisgender. eve sets out an excellent case for tonks as bolshy and liberated and in tune with herself and fun and confused and in flux and still figuring stuff out about who she is and where she’s going - and this translates, may i say, to an astonishingly beautiful way of writing her, lupin, and the dysfunction inherent between them which i highly recommend you read.

[luvring]

ASTROLOGY BOT

1.2k words, just timeskip akaashi overthinking and crushing on gn!reader. LOL

akaashi has always considered himself ‘on the fence’ when it comes to superstitions and signs from the universe.

he might say ghosts aren’t real, but never goes near a supposedly haunted site just in case. he’ll ignore videos titled “for you” if he can’t relate, say it must have been a sign only after something goes wrong, and never acts on them even if he knows he has to.

but he can’t deny that he thinks about it throughout the day when it’s something he hopes is true—that maybe he’s tried out a few filters and trends to see if you, his crush of way too long, were his soulmate.

it’s bokuto this time, though, that sends him a sign.

a tweet, really.

an astrology bot on twitter that tweeted 17 minutes ago— “sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you, too.”

AKAASHI!!!

i told you!!!

i turned their post notifications on to see if they’d say anything funny again and LOOK!!!!

keiji watches his friend’s texts come in through as notifications, eyes mostly fixed on the tweet, re-reading it over and over.

it’s a minute before he texts back.

it’s just a bot bokuto

it doesn’t actually mean anything

but bokuto is typing replies in mere seconds,

awwwww come on :((

remember when they were like

be careful virgo they don’t have the best intentions >:(

and IT WAS ABOUT ME ALMOST GETTING SCAMMED!! THEY STOPPED A SCAM!!! O____O

whats the worst thing that could happen???

i mean.. well…at least the worst thing that could happen ISNT u losing a bunch of money T_____T

imagine if u lost hundreds of dollars bc u confessed ;——; scary…

keiji breathes out a laugh.

i won’t lose hundreds of dollars but it’d haunt me for the rest of my life like every other embarrassing thing that’s ever happened and u know that

but thank you

i’ll think about telling them

he’s vaguely aware of bokuto sending another text with his name in all caps before he turns off his phone. it lands somewhere beside him on his comforter, and he takes off his glasses if only to run his hands down his face.

there’s a feeling he gets, akin to both butterflies and a 10 meter drop, when one of these bots decides to let his imagination get away from him.

for a few minutes keiji lets himself think it might be true, and that you think about going on dates with him the same way he does with you.

the latest idea he had was taking you to a new board game cafe that had opened nearby. he had skipped then swiped back up to its ad—a perfect spot for couples looking to spice up a regular cafe date!

he hadn’t closed his curtains properly that night, and the moon lit up his room while he stared at the ceiling. would you be competitive? would you rather play a co-op game?

would you see him sipping on his drink, and ask to have a taste?

he thought about how he might accidentally have some foam above his lip, and how you’d softly laugh before tapping above your own to signal his appearance. he cringed at the possible humiliation of looking silly in front of you, but it went away with the foam you’d gently swipe with your thumb, or maybe even hold his face to kiss away instead. you’d tease him and say it was as sweet as him.

but it’s nonsensical.

as far as keiji knows, whoever runs the account is using a random generator to pick a sign and bullshitting every tweet in their drafts.

it’s almost always only a sentence anyway.

but does that mean it’s a sign that this one was two?

keiji forces himself to stop thinking and takes a deep breath, letting the warmth hit his palms still covering his face. silence washes over him, and he lets his ears focus on the traffic outside, and the sound of the washing machine running a couple of rooms away.

but then he thinks about you. and he scrunches his eyes shut and groans, hands moving to grip his hair before he rolls over onto his stomach.

there’s a thud as his phone hits the ground while he pulls the blanket to cover his head.

sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you, too.

sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you, too.

not just tell them you like them, as if it was a shove to be courageous for once, but they like you, too.

did you like him, too?

was he good enough for you to like him?

did you hate him?

was he going to trust an astrology bot as uninformed about your feelings as he was?

maybe more importantly, was he going to let a bot dictate whether he finally confesses to you after almost a year of pining? a year based on the fact that one day you held the elevator door open for him with a smile and already knew what floor he needed?

(you had noticed him as the new employee, though he didn’t notice you while busy getting used to his job. he made sure to note the fact you got off the floor above him so he could press the button for you next time.)

and keiji doesn’t really believe in signs or the supernatural. he doesn’t want to let himself, because if he does then there’s probably a ghost in that shut-down building on his way to work, he’s gotten himself twenty years of bad luck, and he’s big enough of a coward that the universe decided to take it upon itself to tell him that itself.

but he’s hiding under his blanket when the absurdity of it all hits him—the anxiety and what-ifs and pretending he didn’t know you liked going for lunch a little earlier than him, and that he didn’t plan his break to say hello—and he feels like he’s sixteen again.

and maybe if there’s one thing he doesn’t want to feel other than being rejected, he thinks it’s being sixteen again.

so he jolts up.

and somewhere, in the back of his mind, keiji wonders if the universe jolted up with him, excited to see where this goes.

adrenaline working, he reaches for his glasses and fumbles to put them on with one hand while the other feels the floor to find his phone. the bright screen makes him squint, and the notification of bokuto’s “AKAASHIII :((” welcomes him before anything else.

sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you too.

the tweet seems to be engraving itself into his mind as his shaky fingers hold his phone, and he taps your icon.

he skims the last text you had sent,

thanks keiji!! i’ll see u tomorrow then :) and remember we get off early!

it's a little embarrassing how his chest tightens at you his name and a smiley face. but he goes to type one himself, spending a second to mentally tell the astrology account they’re changing lives, but nothing more or else he thinks he might throw up—

btw if you’re free, did you want to grab food after work? there’s a cafe i wanted to check out with you :)

[animentality]

not to be a boomer, but I do worry about the current generation of kids being raised with iPads.

first off. some of them literally can't hold a pencil because their parents never gave them physical toys to grip and play with, developing their fine motor skills.

you might ask why do we even need to learn how to write physically anymore- well, frankly, because if you're stranded on an island somewhere and you need to write HELP, you might not have the strength to hold a pencil, but you can at least hold a stick.

but on a more general note.

writing by hand helps you remember things better. it forces you to focus in a way that typing something word for word does not. a person can transcribe what a professor says without even thinking about it.

someone writing notes has to consider what to write and what to omit. it also activates more parts of your brain, forcing you to flex the parts of your brain related to learning and communicating, while also engaging the part of your brain dedicated to muscle control and precision.

but in general, I think the issue isn't even oh technology is bad and kids are getting dumber.

you can have PowerPoints AND take physical notes. that could help you learn even better than the olden days where you just had to remember everything that was thrown at you. or read very limited, out of date books.

the problem is that the generation that raised/is raising this generation of children just doesn't understand the true impact that all this technology will have on their kids. or they just don't care.

because our generation had the internet yes, but it wasn't widely accessible for most of us, sharing our computers with the entire family in the kitchen. it was also the internet in its infancy, where it wasn't quite so predatory, when it was lawless and disturbing, yes, but it wasn't weaponized by corporations trying to sell you things and steal your data, it wasn't flooded with bots and ai and all sorts of things that the human brain can't even distinguish as real or fake, especially when you're just a little kid.

that generation still played with physical toys. we celebrated when it snowed and we could stay home.

we also came from a gen that still, vaguely, cared about some form of community and had third spaces for kids to hang out.

90s children, who still had some memories of both playing outside on a playground and playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo 64 with their friends, who both went out to the mall and had a club penguin account.

we grew up with laptops and smart boards. maybe some of us had them in high school or college, but we still physically went to class and developed relationships. learned uncomfortable things about ourselves and others, the way humans do.

met new people and were exposed to new ideas, away from our parents. but not from some fucking influencer trying to sell us Sephora products.

we had to study for things, instead of just being able to Google shit for some bullshit online test.

which is also something that really concerns me. so many kids today can so easily Google answers for every test, and while tests don't ultimately matter in the real world, they still provide some basis for things that do matter.

like I'm just imagining medical students googling how to perform an appendectomy on the day of, and just using a YouTube tutorial to guide them through, and shuddering.

there are some things that the Internet can't teach you.

there always will be.

but I don't think my generation is really helping their kids find the balance that we were given naturally growing up.

the boomers and gen xers had fist fights and we had bullying someone online until they committed suicide.

and now kids use AI to spread fake nudes of girls.

but the laws haven't caught up with a lot of this stuff yet, and certainly won't while we have dinosaurs running our government. and culture takes even longer to change than laws.

I also worry because I know how badly covid affected kids worldwide. how they struggle to read and do math, because remote learning just isn't good for kids.

and I can't even blame them!! I literally teleworked for 4 years and even I can admit that I'm not nearly as good at focusing at home as I am in the office.

it's hard for kids with social anxiety and disabilities, yes I know, I know, trust me, I have social anxiety, and as a hybrid worker ATM, I highly doubt I'd be able to handle 5 days a week in the office.

but it's also not particularly good for kids to stay home ALL the time, entertaining themselves in their room and never being challenged, and never meeting people other than their parents.

the iPad is more of a symbol of that problem than the direct problem.

if your entire... world view is limited to what you can see on your iPad... I mean what a terrible world view you'll have.

you're a 10 year old using TikTok and all you ever see is the same opinion over and over until you can scarcely comprehend people who have an opposing opinion.

you see fake videos that seem so real. that must be real, and so comforting, aren't they, those videos that seem so real?

you let 30 year old influencers who are trying to grift people shape your world view.

and it's not even your fault.

your parents aren't doing anything to help you.

you're young and you're being barraged with entertainment and fake educational videos and how to guides that accidentally create mustard gas in your toilet.

your parents should be teaching you to find a balance between these things. they should be telling you what's real and caution you about the things you see.

they should limit your fucking time on the iPad actually. take you to a fucking park and let you roll in the mud or some shit.

and then when you're a teenager and a young adult, then you can start deciding for yourself what you believe.

but a lot of these weird millennial/gen z parents, man. just let your 1 year old scroll through vids on TikTok while you don't even talk to them or look at them once.

maybe it's because they don't see the harm in it, but I don't get it.

adults can watch TikTok all day and know, ahhh this is bad for me. I'm not doing anything I actually want to be doing.

adults can see other adults doing dumb shit and say ah you're sponsored. someone paid you money to say and do that. silly.

but kids are just kids.

they don't have discipline and frankly, that's not their responsibility. that is yours.

you should be teaching them that they can't have everything in life at their finger tips at all times, actually.

the iPad doesn't solve all of your problems, nor will it think critically for you.

so I worry about if humanity can really keep up with its own technology.

our species is still in its infancy, believe it or not.

so maybe these are just growing pains, and future generations will be able to look back on this era and know the proper balance.

but as someone living in 2024.

I wonder just how much pain is left before we really mature and either make it or break it.