#like payton's great

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

(Hi there! If you saw/voted in this poll, why don’t you check out Swiftlit, my new Taylor Swift podcast. It would mean a lot to me :) 💗)

[llama-head]

Transcript Below

[Coach Kelly] Yes Rory! That’s it!

[Announcer] With less than ten seconds left, Jax Payton has the ball. Will he pass or repeat his epic play from last game? 

[Rory] Jax, I’m open! Pass it.

[Jax] Uhhhh, yeah okay.

[Male Announcer] Rory Meyer gets the ball and scores!

(Buzzer sounds)

[Male Announcer] And with a score of 18 to 20, the Oasis Springs Dinos win!

[Female Announcer] We’d like to thank the San Myshuno River Dogs for their effort. Good game boys!

[sluttytoes]

[sunlightmurdock]

Hey, Neighbour! | DBF!Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Jake’s been having a problem recently, and when the power goes out next door, everything quickly comes to a head.

Warnings: dad’s best friend trope. Age gap. Reader is in her mid-20s, Jake’s around 40. Obviously unbalanced power dynamic. No use of Y/N. Reader’s dad has a name. Mention of reader having a piercing. Smut. Pure filth and pining. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Unprotected pinv. Creampie. Jake has no respect for his best friend’s furniture. Choking briefly. Please comment / Reblog, it’s greatly appreciated. Wc: 8.5k. Minors dni, you will be blocked.

…

Jake clicks the television off and pushes himself up from the couch, joined by his shadow of a German shepherd called Ace. They walk together to the sound of the meek little knock at his front door, Jake’s gym socks padding along his dark wood floors along the way.

It’s late. Too late for whoever is at his front door to be bearing good news. He twists the door handle and pulls it open, rolling back his aching shoulders. This late at night, he has a good idea of who’s going to be standing on his porch.

As expected, standing there and shivering in your dad’s coat and a pair of slippers, is exactly the last person that Jake was hoping to see.

You see, Jake has had a bit of a problem since he moved in to this neighbourhood.

Quite a substantial one, in the grand scheme of things, and one that seems to just be getting worse by the minute.

Suburbia was meant to be Jake’s reprieve from his bachelor lifestyle. His escapades have been worrying his mother to death for going on two decades now, and it came time that even Jake agreed that it was time to wisen up about his love life. With all of the deployments, and all of the time away from home, it had been beyond easy to never fall into anything serious. By the time he was twenty-nine, Jake’s longest ever relationship was two and a half months, which was alarming given the number of women he had encountered by then.

Two things happened that sent Jake here, to this cute little cul-de-sac in suburban San Diego, one — Jake’s job became more secure, and guaranteed that he would spend at least ninety percent of his remaining career here on the west coast. Second, he proposed to a woman. A beautiful woman, that he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

She liked his house, it looked like the one her parents had raised her in. So, he bought the house and he bought a dog, and swore that he was going to try to settle down. Six months later, it was just him and the dog. Payton apologised profusely, and she’d apologise even more if he ever ran into her again, he just wasn’t right for her.

Things weren’t so bad though. Jake and Ace liked the peace and quiet, and the guy next door was actually pretty cool. Jack, the airline pilot with a mean golf swing and a great nose for the best sports bars in town. He’s a little older than Jake, with a hell of a lot more to show for it, including three grown up kids.

It’s been a couple of years now, and Jake’s practically part of the family. He knows everything there is to know. He’s there on birthdays, holidays, emergencies — he loves this family. But he has a problem.

His problem was manageable at first. So, Jack’s youngest daughter might have caught Jake’s attention at first. You were visiting home from college and you had stepped out of the car in a tight little pair of shorts and a tank top, and Jake just happened to be standing in Jack’s garage, helping him with a little project, when he first saw you.

And you were funny. Right away cracking some joke about Jake’s less than adept approach to projects around the house. Jake had laughed out loud without even meaning to, and then you’d turned your head and hit him with that mega-watt smile. Bringing new meaning to the term beaming.

God, that pretty fucking smile.

Your humour dances lightly on the nerves of others, like Jake’s, but sweeter. You’re well behaved and back then you had had a dreamy boyfriend who was in pre-med. Perfect in every way.

Even more reason for Jake to keep his hands to himself.

You were Jack’s kid. Jake wouldn’t ever cross that line. It’s just that sometimes… he had to remind himself of this boundary.

He hadn’t ever been close friends with someone where that was even a concern, and truthfully, he had been unprepared for meeting you. In all of the stories Jack told him, you were this cute little kid. Standing before him, you didn’t quite match the image he had of you in his head. This was truly uncharted territory.

Truth be told, there were times when Jake wasn’t so sure you wanted him to hang back. Even when you were still bringing that boyfriend of yours around, Jake caught the way you looked at him.

The way you tug those glossed lips between your teeth and grin around the straw of your drink.

If he was a better friend, or a stronger man, he might have been able to nip his little problem in the bud right away. He had tried, and you were living away from home then, so it was easier. But last month, you had moved back in with your parents and Jake’s life has been nothing but stress ever since.

On occasion, Jake thinks of how he would have to plead his case if someone discovered how he felt. You just don’t know what it’s like when she’s looking at me, man. I swear, I tried to stay away from her, I did.

It’s not his fault that Jack asked him to watch you while your folks were away on that cruise.

Jake’s gaze finally flickers back up to your wounded, hurt baby bunny, expression.

“What’s the matter, cutie? — You alright?” He reaches for you with one hand, gently grabbing at the crook of your elbow and guiding you towards him. That sad little look on your face tugs at his heart strings every time.

“Yeah, I just — I plugged in my phone charger and all the lights went out. I think I tripped a fuse,” All exasperated and frustrated at once, you push your hair back off of your face and frown at him. “Could you come take a look at it for me?”

Jake’s throat grows thick. Under your dad’s heavy work coat, Jake can see the thin white tank top you’re wearing and the blue checkered, boxer style pyjama shorts. But Jack asked him to take care of you.

“Yeah. Of course I can,” Jake nods his head and reaches down to tug at Ace’s black woven collar. “Come in a sec. I just need some shoes.”

There haven’t been too many occasions where you have been inside Jake’s place. Your dad comes here a lot and you’ve been sent over to collect him before dinner on occasion, or to deliver Jake some leftovers.

It’s warm inside, and it smells like woodsmoke and leather. He’s been burning the candle that you got him for his last birthday. You inhale softly, shrugging the coat closer to your body.

In the times that you have been over here, you’re always surprised by how tidy he keeps the place. It’s not what you would have expected of a single guy living all alone.

Jake pulls some sneakers from a tidy shoe organizer disguised to look like an end table and crouches down to put them on his feet. Leaning over, something catches his eye between the heavy fleece of your dad’s unzipped work jacket.

“Did you get your bellybutton pierced?”

The question startles you, drawing attention to the fact that you had been craning your neck and trying to get a look into Jake’s living room. You turn your head, blinking as Jake straightens up and takes a step towards you.

He reaches out and before you know it, his warm fingers are stretching out across your chilled, just exposed navel. His thumb brushes over your soft skin, brows drawing together as he examines the dainty jewelry pushed through your skin.

Swiftly, you take a step back and his hand drops away from your body. “I’ve had it for years.”

There’s a silence between the two of you. Jake’s going to be kicking himself for that for weeks to come. He shouldn’t have reached out and touched you like that. He shouldn’t be commenting on things your father wouldn’t approve of. You’re too grown up for that.

“Huh,” He clicks his tongue, reaching just past your side to grab his house keys from the dish by the door. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go take a look at those lights.”

The shuffle of your slippers cuts through the awkward silence as you cross Jake’s front yard and into yours. It’s late November, and a cold night in particular too. Standing in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, the evening chill makes Jake’s arm hair stand on end. As you walk ahead, your back to him, Jake wonders if it has the same effect on you.

Thinking about his best friend’s daughter’s tits. He wishes the shame alone was enough to knock the thought out of his head. He wishes you hadn’t moved home. He wishes you weren’t leading him into your dark, empty house right now.

The entire house is pitch black, but Jake tests the hallway lightswitch in passing anyway. He notes the dubious look you shoot him back over your shoulder. Then, he passes by you as you stop to take off that big coat. It’s not something he wants to hang by and watch.

It’s cold as his shoulder brushes yours, and not just because it’s November. You swallow thickly, staring after him until he disappears into the dark. Your feelings towards Jake are complicated.

Well, they’re not. Your crush on him isn’t the innocent middle school crush that you used to have on an older figure, like a teacher. No, this is far from doodling his name in your journal. This man, and his thick, ridged abs and golden chest hair, is working his way into your dreams.

After the break-up, you had sworn off men for a while — and that was the right decision for you. But, it left certain parts of you yearning. And Jake’s right next door. From your bedroom window, you’ve got the perfect view into his backyard. The same backyard where he’ll work out in the blazing heat, sweat glistening along his tanned skin, along the ridges and valleys of his muscles.

No, this crush is far from innocent. It crossed the border into indecent weeks ago, the first time that you touched yourself thinking about him. It wasn’t your fault; he was tempting you.

You had returned home from work to find Jake hanging out in the living room with your father, not unusual, and you had joined the two of them. Your dad had started with a playful comment about Jake. Jake had returned the favour with a witty remark about your dad. You were just joining in on the fun, poking playfully at Jake’s age.

All too suddenly, he had turned sharply to you and pinched the soft skin between your ribs and hip, leaning dangerously close with a smirk on his face that made your head spin. In fact, you still remember the way your mouth had hung open as Jake had breathed out a chuckle and shot you that playfully warning look.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He’d challenged, that eager look in those wild green eyes, his cheeks dimpling just slightly, fingers pressing into your side.

Since then, you can’t help but think of him closer, and closer.

“Jake, wait!” You call, dropping the coat onto a hook and kicking off your slippers, starting to rush after him. Jake cranes his neck to look back at you over his shoulder. “You should probably show me what you’re doing. Y’know, in case it happens again.”

“Sure. Come here,” Jake jerks his head for you to join him, extending his hand for you in the dark of the utility room. You swat around until your fingers graze his, falling silent at the brash way he grabs hold of your hand and drags you closer. Your ass briefly brushes his thigh as he guides you in front of him. Jake steps back, clearing his throat. The little red dot on the fuse box illuminates his fingertips as he reaches past you. “This is the switch you want, don’t mess with anything else or your dad’ll kill you.”

The corners of your lips twitch. There are plenty of things your dad would be furious with, if he knew you had done them.

Jake’s fingers curl around the switch. His cologne fills your nose. His massive bicep is inches from your cheek, and everything feels like electric as his other hand comes to rest on the bare space between your shirt and your shorts. You’re trapped between him and the wall in front. If you would push your hips back just an inch or two…

“So, you flip the switch off to reset it,” Jake’s voice is all gravel from yelling at the young pilots he instructs, and shouting over the top of loud music in bars. It drifts past your ears and makes you want to shiver as his fingers curl around the plush of your hip. “And then you flip it back on for the power.”

Suddenly, the lights come back on in the hall outside of the utility room. Jake’s got you cornered against the fuse box really, and with the washer and dryer to your side, the only escape would be to rush out into the hall. You’re not quite ready to make that move. You can hear the amusement in his voice. He can feel the way you’re burning with awkward embarrassment in front of him.

“Oh.” You say quietly. Jake chuckles from behind you, his hand trailing about an inch higher, taking some of the fabric from your tank top with it, pinching playfully at your newly exposed waist.

“Happy to help, kid.” He’s already drawing back, his hand pulling away from your electrified skin, the sound of his shoe hitting the floor and alerting you to the fact that he’ll be leaving before you even know it.

“Could I ask you for one more favour?” You turn to face him, biting sheepishly on your bottom lip.

“Sure. What is it?” He’d retile your entire bathroom for you if you asked him to. That’s what makes him wish he was a better friend.

There’s an art to the way you bat your lashes at him, knowing better than to get too close or put your hands on him. Just that deep, pleading look in your eyes is more than enough. “Will you finish watching my scary movie with me? — Kinda… freaked me out a little bit when the lights went out, is all.”

“… Yeah. Yeah, I guess I can hang out for a little.” You’re a good kid, and it’s just a movie. He can’t leave you over here all by yourself, scared out of your mind, now, can he?

Jake wonders if this is what your father had in mind when he had asked his most trusted friend to just be there for his daughter while they were away.

That same, trusted best friend, sitting on the couch with his chin propped up against his palm, and that daughter’s head resting against his shoulder. You could have sat over on the other end of the couch, or even in your dad’s armchair, but that defeats the purpose of asking Jake to stay.

“Fill me in. What am I missing here?” Jake asks, mostly to fill the silence. His arm stretches along the back of your couch, his knees parted obnoxiously and his neck awkwardly straight to minimise risk of him laying his head against yours.

Your hand comes to rest against his middle, eyes focused calmly on the screen. “So there are two timelines. The present, and flashbacks to like… maybe ten years ago. Ten years ago, the family bought this mirror, and…”

Jake’s fingers inch their way into your hair, trailing softly over your scalp. Your fingers brush over his middle as he massages your scalp. He listens to you explain the plot of the movie like he isn’t thinking about the way your nipples are pressing through the white fabric of your tank top.

“Freaky mirror…” Jake muses over the concept of the plot, squinting his eyes at the screen, his fingers slowing to a halt in your hair as he turns his head to look at you. “You gonna be able to sleep okay tonight if we watch this?”

You meet him back with a sheepish grin and an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “Well, I already started, so I need to see that it ends okay, or I’ll be freaked out.”

“Alright. Just making sure you’re not gonna try crawling into my bed tonight after you have a nightmare.” Jake teases, pushing his knees further apart and sinking down into the comfort of the grey fabric couch he helped the movers bring in here last August.

He didn’t push you away when you sat right next to him and curled against his side. He reached out himself and stroked his fingers along your stomach.

Confidence surges through you like a wave, swelling big enough for you to giggle and press closer to him. “Come on, would that be such a bad thing?”

“What did you say?”

The swell has passed and the wave crashes just like all the others do, breaking over an otherwise calm sea. You swallow softly, growing exceptionally still.

“I was just kidding—“

Jake’s fingers leave your hair and curl instead around the nape of your neck. He turns his head, attempting to get a look at your face. “No, no. Say it again. What did you say?”

You shake your head, pressing it closer against his toned stomach. “I was just joking. You wouldn’t mind it that much if I had a bad dream and had to come sleep in your bed.”

He’s quiet for a moment and the movie draws tense. The main character is creeping around in the dark, the music is building, and Jake’s far too quiet for your liking.

“Don’t joke about that.” Jake says quietly.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You answer him, hugging your cheek into the dark fabric of his t-shirt. That way, there’s no chance of him seeing the shame on your face. Going after your dad’s best friend— you should be ashamed of yourself.

Jake rubs a palm over the stubble on his jaw, trying to focus on the screen in front of him. This movie can’t possibly take much longer.

He knows he has upset you. You’re uncharacteristically quiet, and he can feel you trying to sit still. He shifts his hips a little, reaching out and resting his palm against your waist.

Your brows draw together as the main character bites into the apple she was eating and glass shards drop to the floor in front of her. Jake feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. Sweat beads on the nape of his neck.

His thumb swipes back and forth over the inch of bare skin on your hip.

Jake glances down at you. Laying against his middle like this. It feels all too natural. He isn’t even paying attention to the movie. Truthfully, the only thing on Jake’s mind is how soft your skin feels against the pad of his thumb.

Imagining how soft your body would feel in his palms, every inch of your skin in his capable hands.

You gasp as the camera pans to the main character’s bleeding mouth, and the shattered lightbulb in your hands, twisting your head and burying your face in Jake’s shirt.

Jake flinches, his attention drawn back to the screen as his fingers curl into your skin. His face twists in distaste, groaning at the gore on the screen.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding about this being freaky.” Jake mutters with a soft shake of his head, shifting uncomfortably as his fingers massage at the pillowy skin of your waist. He swallows thickly, eyes dropping down to the way you’re nestled just above his waistband. He tries a weak chuckle, mind racing for something to lighten the mood. “What am I meant to do if I’m up all night after this, huh?”

You laugh softly against his stomach, pressing closer to the warmth of his rigid torso. Jake stares at the screen as he feels your open palm brush over his abdomen, fingertips grazing the waistband of his sweats by mere millimeters. He strokes your skin, setting his knees further apart by an inch.

Even with the score of the movie in front of you, everything feels so quiet. Even with the floor lamp to your right and the table lamp to your left, it all feels so dark. It all feels so slow. Truthfully, you imagine this is as close as you’ll get to understanding what it feels like to tightrope across Niagara Falls.

One misstep, a strong gust, the loss of balance in any capacity and its all over. The best friendship that your father has ever had, thrown away because you made a pass at a man far too old for you to begin with.

Then, Jake’s fingers break their almost surgically precise pattern. The tips stretch just slightly under the fabric of your tank top, reaching for the silken skin of your stomach. It’s brief, before they retreat to the safety of circling the skin that you’ve chosen to expose. You drop your gaze, watching all five of his digits follow their intricate pattern, and stretch under the cotton white of your top once again.

Maybe Jake notices that you’re watching him, or maybe he finally notices it himself, but he stops all at once. Fingers pulling back to rest platonically against your hip, green eyes trained seriously on the television, his lips stretched into a flat line.

“It’s okay,” You whisper without turning your gaze away from the screen. Jake doesn’t look at you. He feels your fingers brush across the top of his, curling through the digits, linking them together. “It’s okay, Jake. You can. I won’t say anything.”

Your parents aren’t going to be home for another eleven days. What’s Jake supposed to do until then, ignore your existence? — Avoid you entirely?

He wants this, and you’re on to him, giving him permission.

“Honey,” It’s caught somewhere between a sigh and a groan, an exhale of restraint and desperation all at once. He wishes he could at least pretend he’s half interested in this movie. “Don’t talk like that.”

Your brows draw together, eyes going wide as a child in the movie creeps through the house, headed for the master bedroom. Bloody sheets on the bed. A smashed plate on the floor. Jake’s hand gripping your hip. The child inches forwards, the music swells, a chill rushes down your back. In frame, the little girl rounds the edge of the bed and someone leaps out, bloodied and frenzied. Jake hasn’t been paying enough attention to gather who.

Neither one of you will care in a few moments.

The surprise makes you jolt, leaping up from your spot against Jake’s stomach, sitting upright all of a sudden, grabbing onto his forearm for support.

“It’s alright, cutie,” Jake breathes out in soft amusement, rubbing a heavy circle on your back. That’s the first thing he called you. When he’d seen you struggling to lift the icebox in the garage. Let me get that for you, cutie. And now, he has the nerve to pretend like it’s just you that has led the two of you here. “Maybe we should turn it off now, huh?”

Your heartbeat is already thudding in your ears and there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep after any of this. Fuck it. You turn, brace your palm against his shoulder, and take the dive.

Jake has thought about what those pretty lips feel like. Every time they stretch upwards into those pretty smiles, each time you sink your teeth into the bottom one. He should be prepared, in theory. Is there any way to prepare for something like this?

“Sweetheart…” Jake mutters against your lips, eyes screwed shut, hands reaching out for your hips. Pained, he gives a slow shake of his head. “Come on, we can’t do this.”

“But do you want to?” Your lips graze his. He feels the way you arch your back, knocking your chest into his, angling yourself in a way that just begs him to grab hold of your waist and drag you into his lap. You close your mouth, pecking softly at his still lips once more. “If you didn’t know my dad… you would. Right?”

Yes. Of course he would. He would be insane not to. He’s driving himself insane trying not to.

“But I do, and… and he trusts me.” Jake turns his head just slightly, but his hands reach for you. His big hands find your hips and grab onto them tight, hard. He just holds you right there. There’s got to be some kind of way he can regain some of the power here.

“I trust you.” You tell him, kissing his jaw tentatively. Delicate fingertips skim along the throbbing vein on the left side of Jake’s throat, reaching for the nape of his neck. Soft, slow kisses lead a trail to his earlobe, passing plains of stubble and angled bone. “I know you won’t hurt me, and I know you want me. It’s okay, Jake, I want you too.

“Fuck.” Jake swears, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers dig into your hips harder and harder. By the time Jake drags you forwards, his grip is so tight that you would have no choice but to follow. You fall into his lap, lips parted and eyes wide as Jake’s deep pine coloured eyes study your face.

You wait for him to speak again, but he doesn’t. Not for a long time. His fingers stretch up from your hips, reaching under the fabric of your tank top, extending across your bare abdomen. He stretches the brushed cotton further, taking it up with a gentle touch.

“Your father would kill me.” Jake muses as his fingertips graze the underside of your breasts, his eyes solely on your face. You smile back at him, only partly because your father is an airline pilot who couldn’t bench half of what Jake does on a good day.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Jake grits his teeth. It has started to rain outside now. That storm that channel four had promised is starting to roll in. The movie will be over soon. The rain will be the only sound on this entire street. This house is completely empty, beside the two of you. He exhales through his nose and pushes his hips up. He’s half-hard under you, and giving you another disapproving shake of his head.

“Little fuckin’ minx…” Jake curses you, his words fanning out across the span of your exposed neck, hot and cold all at once. “You get off on teasing me like this, or something?”

A smile works its way across those pretty lips. Jake could see more of that smile than he sees sunsets and he would still be pretty damn content. Your nails rake softly through the almost buzzed fade at the back of his head as you give a shake of your head.

“Well, it’s not teasing if we take care of it,” Your shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug as Jake’s fingers trail further upwards, taking your tank top with them and exposing your breasts to the cool autumn air. The rattle of the air conditioning unit that your dad tells you not to mess with reminds you of the real culprit as your nipples harden and perk with the exposure. You lean back, bracing each of your hands on Jake’s knees, arching your chest out, letting Jake see the newly exposed skin. “If you’ll let me.”

His eyes are pretty when he smiles. When he’s staring at your tits, they’re hooded and hungry, a shade of green that threatens to draw you in and hold you captive. What a happy captive you would be. His hands grab at both of them at once, squeezing roughly at the supple flesh.

All at once, his mouth is on yours too. He’s sucking at your bottom lip, growling into your mouth. He smells of smoked wood and he tastes of scotch. It paints half of a picture. A lonely man sitting in his home alone on a Saturday night, burning a candle given to him by a girl half his age and drinking liquor older than he is himself.

You’re straddling his hips now, your bare thighs squeezing into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, pulling yourself closer with each hungry kiss. Jake’s touch is experienced, expert; he pinches softly at your nipple, anticipates the way your mouth will draw open in a soft gasp, and licks into your mouth the second that it does. He sucks softly at the tip of your tongue, revelling in the feeling of your soft breasts in his hands.

“Arms up.”

You’re such a good girl. The way that you comply with a wordless grin and bite at your lip once the tank top hits the floor has Jake in even more trouble than he was before. He kisses softly at the space between your tits, pushing them together in his hands, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue into your skin.

Men like boobs. Big boobs, small boobs — your shared gossip sessions with friends in college always led to the same conclusion, men don’t care. They bite, suck, grab regardless of size. It shouldn’t be anything new. But then Jake reaches your left nipple. His right hand palms at the underside as his tongue swipes in a circular motion, just before his lips clasp around the sensitive bud.

You know he’s watching you through those esurient green eyes, but you find yourself playing right into his capable hands anyway. Any leverage you may have had in seeming like his charms don’t work on you are washed away with the dulcet tone of your first moan. It spills from your lips, your nails pressing into the nape of his neck as Jake sucks expertly at the sensitive skin.

He pulls away with another ravenous exhale, something between a sigh and a groan. His hands feel heavy on your body as they paw at your chest with a capability you’ve never encountered before. His cologne is expensive and mature, a smokey blend that has you intoxicated and enthralled. His mouth is wet and eager, but oh, so slow as it explores the areas of you he has dreamt about.

The rain outside is growing heavier, like it’s learning to mimic the deepness of each of your breaths. The movie must have finished by now. Neither one of you is going to check.

His stubble prickles, rough and masculine, abrasive compared to the adept caress of his tongue. His right hand grabs forcibly at the nape of your neck, drawing the sweetest little squeak from your already open lips. You knew he would be better than the guys you’ve been with before, but not like this. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

Jake’s lips seem to pinpoint each and every nerve ending in your chest, sucking and licking at your skin through feverish kisses. The tenderness seeping away each time a breathy moan falls from your mouth, fanning out against his clothed shoulder. He pulls away from the top of your breast with his teeth, already knowing, in his years of experience, that that’s going to bruise.

Jake lifts his head, letting his eyes drift shut as you lean forwards and press your mouth to his neck. He can feel your nerves in your trembling fingertips, in the way your chest shivers when it brushes his, in the way your lips suck at his pulse point. But you’re doing so well. Dragging your lips along the length of his neck, biting softly at the skin just above his collarbone, feeling him shiver at the sensation.

“Off.” You demand, grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt, feeling him grin against your jaw. He complies wordlessly, grabbing at the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

You’ve seen Jake shirtless plenty of times, wandering around his property or opening the front door without shame. You’ve always wondered what those muscles, that dusting of golden chest hair, would feel like up close. Forgetting that you’re being watched, your hands explore his toned torso. The line down the middle of his stomach, the sharp divide of his collarbones, the swell of his pecs.

“What’re you thinking?” Jake asks, brushing your hair back from your face tenderly, concern coating his features.

A bashful smile spreads across your cheeks as you watch your fingers ghost along the thick muscle of his shoulder. “That you’re really hot.”

Jake breathes out a chuckle, reaching up and grabbing at the back of your neck to cradle you against him as he pushes up from the couch and turns quickly, planting you on your back and covering your body with his.

“That smile is gonna get me in big trouble, sweetheart,” Jake wastes no time in pressing his mouth to your stomach, holding you by your waist as he sucks filthy kisses into your skin to mark his path downward. “You know that?”

“I know.” You answer back, just to tease him this time. Jake stops at your waistband as you giggle, looking up at you through hooded eyes with a devilish grin on his face. He drags his teeth across your hip, hooking his fingers into the sides of your shorts and tugging them down your legs.

“God, honey, you weren’t wearing panties this entire time?” Jake exhales, eye-level with the most intimate part of you and completely unashamed. Your mind fumbles for an answer, lips getting into position to finally respond when he leans forwards and licks a stripe through your soaked core. Then, he moans. His hands grab fistfuls of your soft waist and he goes in again, lapping hungrily at your excitement, groaning against your sensitive skin.

“O-Oh… Jake.” Your voice trembles, knees trying to press shut around Jake’s broad shoulders. He grabs firmly at your thigh, closing his lips loosely around your clit, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud and making you jolt against him.

“Yeah, honey?”

“That feels really fucking good.” You tell him, closing your eyes finally.

“Attagirl. Just hold on, girlie, I’m gonna get you there.” He promises without once diverting from his apparent mission. If he’s as devoted to the Navy as he is to making you cum at this exact moment in time, the military is lucky to have him. You’re soaked, excitement pooling between your legs. Jake already knows he’s going to spend tomorrow cleaning this couch, and he wishes he cared enough to make better decisions.

“Look at this,” Jake breathes out as his gaze falls back down to rest between your legs. He couldn’t care less about the fucking couch. You swallow hard, practically aching for his touch. You’ve waited so long already. His index finger dips between your folds, his brows raise as he gathers your excitement on the tip of it. “Making such a fuckin’ mess for your old man’s best friend. Dirty fucking girl.”

He can’t see the way his words make you grin, but he can feel the way you reach for his hair and tug softly at those blonde roots, begging for more. He’s more than happy to give it to you. Jake groans against you, working his tongue in soft circles around the throbbing bundle of nerves. His eyes are still on you. Your eyes are closed — if you look him in the eyes then you’re going to get all embarrassed, and you’ll be damned before you let someone ruin how good this feels. Especially not yourself.

Jake’s hand trails up your naked torso, pawing at your rising and falling tits as you pant into the chilled air, sweat beading on your skin.

He’s gentle between your legs. More gentle than he could be. Pressing his stubbled mouth firmly against your core and working his tongue against you, each languid movement making you keen into him. The tip of his nose bumps your clit periodically. It feels like your head is spinning.

Dragging his mouth back up to your sensitive, throbbing clit, his free hand slides between your legs, he dips the tip of his index finger into you, then slides it in up to the knuckle and curls. Just testing the waters. It’s enough to earn him a moan, enough to have you grab a fistful of his short blonde hair, ensuring that he doesn’t get ahead of himself and lose pace with his mouth.

He slips his ring finger into you alongside his middle whilst his tongue works confidently along your core and back up to your clit. He lets go of your thigh and rests his forearm across your stomach, keeping you nice and still for him. Maybe he should feel ashamed of himself for how much he’s enjoying this.

All of those times he enjoyed the sound of your laugh, and sat with the afterthought of how much he’d enjoy the sound of your moans. It’s hard to be ashamed when it turns out he was right.

He scissors his fingers inside of you, making you gasp louder this time, pulling against him. You tug at his roots, he moans against your clit. You both shiver, and not because of that now thundering storm. Jake’s tongue flattens as he drags it along your core. He pulls his fingers from you and puts them immediately to work, taking over the pace on your clit, burying his face between your legs, curling his tongue into you.

Jake growls against you, his cock growing now uncomfortably hard in the confines of his sweats and his fingers and mouth switch places once again. After all the time he has waited, he doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of looking up at you, writhing at the feeling of him between your legs. All that does is make his sweats feel even tighter again. His fingers fuck into you mercilessly, curling and twisting, making you keen into his touch and arch your back and gasp all at once.

You cum with his name on your tongue and your fingers in his hair. The comedown feels like weightlessness. Jake doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the first time a man has made you feel like that, the adoration in your eyes as he comes in to kiss your mouth tells him everything he needs to know.

His mouth tastes like you, his chin is wet with your slick and his cock is straining against the grey cotton of his sweats, pressing in to your stomach. Jake’s fingers brush your hair back softly from your forehead, a sudden calmness in the green of his eyes as he studies the peaceful euphoric smile on your face.

“We don’t have to go any further—“

“Stop trying to be a gentleman.” You huff, lifting your head and kissing him hard, hooking your legs around his waist. Drawing him closer, you’re both painfully aware that the only thing stopping him from touching you is his sweats. “I want you.”

Jake pauses for a moment. Rain slams against the windows, and the television goes dark as it passes into standby mode. His hands squeeze softly at your waist, eyes darting downward at your naked body under his. He would be a damn idiot to say no to everything he has been fantasising about.

“You keep condoms here?” He breathes out.

Your eyes light up before him, gleaming with mischief. You give a confident nod of your head as a cunning little smirk spreads across your lips.

“There are some in my parents’ bathroom,” You can tell right away that he doesn’t like that idea, but that’s okay, option two was by far your favourite anyway. “Or, you could just cum in me. I won’t tell.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jake drops his head forwards to rest against your naked chest, panting out a dry laugh. His fingers bruise into your middle as he starts to consider the choices that have led him here. Once he feels composed enough to look you in the eye again, he lifts his head and squints seriously. “You did not just say that.”

“I want you to. I’m on birth control anyway.” Long gone is the nervous girl standing on his porch and asking him to fix her lights. There’s a devious, lustful look in your eye and Jake’s pretty damn sure there’s magic in that look. All he knows is that it could make him do just about anything you asked of him. “Please?”

Jake swipes his thumb along the curve of your jaw, studying the depths of your irises for just a moment. He leans forwards and kisses your bottom lip, sucking at the plush skin, pulling away with his teeth. You swallow as he sits back, pushes his sweats down his legs and frees his swollen cock. From under him, you’ve got the perfect view.

Every ridge and valley in those impossible abs, each follicle of hair that lines his tanned chest, trailing down below his navel and sitting neatly around his pubic bone, trimmed just as neatly as his navy-standard hair cut. His cock is a good size, considerable even when he’s got one of his large hands wrapped around its base. Wide too, throbbing red at the tip, bending just slightly to the left.

Just looking has your mouth running dry.

Fisting his cock, Jake sits back on his heels and lets his gaze fall down to your glistening core once again. He looks down at your pretty face, then lowers himself between your legs, pressing his chest into yours, kissing you dizzyingly hard.

“You want it?” Jake asks one last time.

“I want it.” You answer him, smiling softly back at him, squeezing your thighs around his hips.

You’re looking up at him with such trust in your eyes that Jake can barely stand it. His heart thuds in his chest as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds, hesitating just briefly. There’s already no coming back from this. There’s no way to make up for the things he has already done. You’re so special, and he wants this so bad.

Your mouth sucks softly at his throat, quiet, pleased sounds spilling from your lips as he grinds the tip of his cock against your sensitive clit. Jake kisses your shoulder softly, then lowers his head to rest there as he drags his cock down to your warm entrance. You gasp softly as he presses into you, pushing forwards until he’s buried and stretching you open completely.

“Oh,” You whimper against his earlobe, pressing your nails into the swell of his shoulder blade. “You feel really fucking big.”

“So fuckin tight.” Jake grunts, his throat thick with desire as he stills inside of you, thumbs bruising into your hips. “Sweet fucking girl. Feel like you’re made just for me.”

This makes you smile into the curve of his jaw, humming in soft agreement as he starts to slowly rock his hips. Lightning flashes outside of the window, and it doesn’t matter one bit. The rest of the world is a million miles away. In here, it’s just the two of you.

“Oh fuck,” Jake shivers, eclipsing your throat with his hand, pulling you in for a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth as he drags his hips back until it’s just the tip. You gasp sharply against him as he snaps his hips forwards until he’s buried into you completely once. “Fuck. You like that?”

“Yeah. I want it like that.” You whimper into his skin, hugging your legs tight around his hips. You moan eagerly against his lips, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezes at the sides of your neck and drives his hips forwards sharply, drawing an excited squeak from your parted lips.

Jake grunts, rocking himself into you hard and fast. He’s waited so long for this, and so have you. The way you’re clawing at his back makes him want to give it all to you. Leaving feverish kisses along your collarbones, he fills you over and over. You curl both legs tighter around his waist, leaning your head back as far as you can against the couch cushion to give his lips better access to your throat.

The living room is filled with the sounds of your sex. Your desperate moans, panting and hard. Jake’s pleasured grunts, muffled softly by the curve of your shoulder. His skin slapping yours. It smells like him, smoky and mature. Sweat beads along his back and his forehead as he keeps up that merciless pace, fucking you so hard that you couldn’t tell him your own name anymore.

Jake pulls back just enough to grab the backs of your thighs and pin them to your chest, hooking your knees over his shoulders, filling you even deeper than before, making you cry out.

“Jake!” You beg, babbling incoherently into the curve of his shoulder as he goes right back to the pace he set before. Fucking you hard and fast, scrambling your brain to the point that the only thing on your mind is the ravenous way he’s staring down at you.

Your walls are squeezing around him perfectly and the sounds you’re making are just driving him insane. It’s been a long time since Jake felt as crazy about someone as he feels about you. He pants into the crook of your neck as his fingers tug at your hair, making you moan out even louder.

“I’m gonna cum — fuck, honey,” Jake grunts out like he’s been punched, his eyes screwing shut as he reaches between your bodies and rubs uniformed circles around your clit. “Are you close? — Can you cum one more time for me?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out, already trembling as you squeeze your thighs tighter around him. “Just—“ You don’t have the words, so you just reach out and grab his hand. Jake swallows hard as you wrap his open hand around the column of your throat and look up at him with that big, trusting look in your eyes again.

He grits his teeth as he squeezes at the sides of your throat, watching your sweet face contort in pleasure. Your hand dips between your legs and replaces where Jake’s had been, rubbing feverish patterns on your clit. Your stomach tightens in knots, your breathing grows heavy and Jake’s cock drives into you at just about the perfect angle each time. You open his mouth to warn him, but it’s already too late. You couldn’t find the words if you tried.

All you can do is grab onto those thick shoulders and cry out his name against the salty skin of his neck. Jake slows just slightly, offering you some reprieve through your sensitivity. Trying to be a gentleman once again. The brain fog starts to clear, you lift your head and press your lips to your earlobe.

“Cum in me,” You pant out, grabbing his shoulder to steady yourself. Jake groans against your chest, nodding his head feverishly. “Just like that, Jake, please.”

He’s relentless, fucking your through the sensitivity of your post-orgasm haze hard enough that grabbing onto those broad shoulders is the only thing that keeps you down to earth with him. Jake groans desperately. He wraps an arm under your back and pulls you as tight against him as physics will allow. You gasp softly, taking your lip between your teeth as he fills you, his cock throbbing against your walls. He seeks out your lips and kisses you hard, somehow more desperate now.

“Fuck, honey…” Jake breathes out, pressing a lazy kiss to the curve of your jaw. He makes no effort to move at first. “You alright?”

“Better than alright.” You answer contentedly, a soft smile toying at your lips as lightning flashes outside once again. Jake chuckles tiredly, lifting his head and kissing your lips.

He sighs, moving slow as he slips out of you and looks down at his cum dripping from between your legs.

“Oh, shit!” You realize, sitting up quickly and trying to reach around Jake for something to clean it with. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you tight against him. Truthfully, from the moment that you had laid your head on Jake’s abs, you hadn’t thought once about the consequences of fucking him right here in this spot.

“Forget it, I’ll — I’ll fix this,” He tells you calmly, already regretting that he’s going to have to live with what he has done on this couch. “Come on, cutie. Let’s go take a shower.”

It’s clear that this is foreign territory for you. Not the sex, but what comes after. He didn’t get up and leave. He didn’t run away with regret for what he did. He ran soap across your body and found your pyjamas for you.

You swallow softly, walking to sit on the edge of your bed. Jake runs a hand along his stubbled jaw as he lingers in the doorway to you room. You can’t help but notice that he got dressed again. Including his shoes. He looks you over, sitting there in fresh pyjamas, staring at him with that worried little look on your face.

He hasn’t ever seen your room here. It’s probably the one room in the house he has never been in. He’s been wondering what it’s like.

But that isn’t why he’s standing there. He sighs softly and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I should go — I mean, Ace is over there by himself.” Jake says quietly. You nod at him. You should probably say something too, but truthfully, not all of your words seem to have come back into your mind yet. “Are you coming with me?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I don’t wanna leave you over here by yourself after that weird ass movie.” Jake answers you with a shrug of his shoulders. “I figured you could just spend the night. If you want.”

Your mouth twitches at the corners as you push yourself up from the edge of your bed, nodding eagerly at him. You’ve got eleven days until your parents get back in town, and Jake permitting, you’re planning on making the most of that.

…

[eros7hanatos]

➽ Things NXX members do when you get sick 

Warnings: established relationships, character and reader live together, pure fluff, SFW, reader doesn’t have to be Rosa, gn reader

Word count: 754

A/N: some fluff to clear my thoughts and make me less stressed TT, I’m in love with all of them.

Luke Pearce

A little panicked, as soon as you stumbled out of your room to go on about your day, your face flushed for no apparent reason he yelped, “No way you’re going anywhere today! You’re staying at home and recovering!”

Literally rushes to the convenience store nearby to buy you medicine. You wake up from your nap to see him drenched in sweat with a plastic bag in his hand and a smile on his face.

Knows your favorite foods that you eat when you're sick and tries his best to make it but, well, he’s not the best cook. So he buys some instead. 

He makes sure that you take your medicines on time and always stays by your side.

Drowns you in hugs and kisses, no matter what you say or do can make him stop. “Luke! You’re going to get sick as well!” he continues to drown you in love and affection.

Such a cutie, trying his best to take care of you. Cheers you up by telling stories, either from his past or funny stories of you guys.

Artem Wing

Immediately pulls you back to bed as soon as he feels your temperature. “You have a fever. You need to stay home and rest.”

A lot calmer than Luke or Marius.

Has basic medicine at home, since he’s a workaholic he takes medicine and works from home. Quickly drives to the nearest convenience store to buy more medicine, if needed. He won’t do anything like that to you though. Insists you stay in bed.

Offers to clear up work or studies for you if on a deadline or urgent. 

Home cooked meals, he’s a great cook, I just know it. 

Such a serious and worried cutie, tries his best to help. Offers his arm for support wherever you go and feeds you water every 30 minutes.

Vyn Richter

Notices something is off almost instantly. “You don’t look so well.” “I’m fine.” after a few moments of silence, and of him inspecting you, “You’re sick. You need to rest.”

Definitely the calmest in the group. I mean he’s a doctor. Psychiatrist, but he still has the general medical knowledge.

Has ALL the medicine you need, throat lozenges? check. Tylenol for headaches? check. No convenience store run for him. 

Brews you herbal tea depending on your symptoms and omg are they delicious and cures your sore throat almost instantaneously. Reminds you to take your medicine on time, never misses one.

Acts as an actual doctor in hopes of cheering you up, “It seems like you’ve been overworked for too long, too much stress. I prescribe you 3-5 days of rest.” “Yes, Dr. Richter~” you play along, having fun. 

Marius von Hagen

At first he panicked when he felt your body rising in temperature. “Ah! Jiejie, why’re you so hot?” You laugh at his wording, even if your throat hurts. “I know I’m hot, but thanks for the reassurance” you tease him back. “You have a fever, Jiejie!” he says, touching your forehead, ignoring what you just said.

Such a drama queen. Has Payton bring every single medicine they could find in that huge mansion of his as well as send Payton to go buy every single medicine on the shelf of the nearby convenience store. 

Was about to call the ambulance, which you refused of course, “It’s just a fever! Rest and water is all I need!” He insists on driving you to the hospital. After a talk with Payton, both of you begging Marius that it’s not that bad, he reluctantly agrees.

He contacts AT LEAST 3 doctors to come immediately to treat you. All of this makes you even more tired, you decide to lie down and take a break from all of his… worried actions…

He finally finds you in his room, all wrapped up and sleeping. He stays by your side the whole time, offering help when not even needed. 

“Where are you going?” “To the toilet.” “Let me help.” He helps bring you to the toilet, just as you step inside he doesn’t leave. You raise an eyebrow. “Um?” “I can help!” “I don’t need help anymore! I can pee by myself!” “but-” “Marius, get out!” ”forgive him. He just worries about you <3

Once you get better though, ohoho, he’s teasing you about this every chance he gets. You soon miss the quiet days of your fever and how he was always worried and listening to you. Now he’s back to his teasing and antics.

[aurorangen]

Before Vincent and Renee headed back to the city, the family spent the afternoon catching up. "Let me tell you something Vincent," Felix thought, "I actually met your mother at this park!" He went on to describe his first impression of her and continued to tell past stories, mainly Bryce (and Payton) gossip and how he was like as a teen!

Felix: How are your old folks doing? Vincent: Ah my nan and gramps. They moved back to the countryside a while back. Settled back into the family farm since my great aunt passed away. Felix: Tell them their old pal Felix would love to catch up, I've not heard from them in a long time!

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Me Rating the Super Mario Bros movie characters performances (now that the Euphoria of the movie has calmed down)

Spoilers below

Mario:

Everyone wants to bag on Chris for being Mario. But I will say, He pulled it off well. There was an accent and if you weren’t listening for it, you probably wouldn’t know it was Chris Pratt voicing him. Say what you will, but Chris knows how to voice act the Everyman hero type. That’s Mario. His love for his brother and Captain America levels of determination make him admirable and not stale. The decision to go more for a Brooklyn accent was a nod to the 1980’s show and I appreciate it. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s what was needed for Mario. 7.5/10

Luigi:

Charlie day was near perfect casting for Luigi. I will be honest, I thought this would just be Charlie day voicing luigi and while funny he usually would teeter on annoying. But for his performance, Luigi had great comedic timing, relatable, supportive and cowardly. It’s honestly captures luigi perfectly. He does get some great lines, I will say the only flaw is how he was sidelined. It felt less like a Mario bros. Movie and more like a Mario and Donkey Kong movie. But in the third act he does bring in some good chops. I do like how they maximized his performance. 8.5/10

Peach:

Anya Taylor-joy as Peach. So I’m conflicted here. It’s not a bad performance, but I wouldn’t say the voice felt like peach. When Peach has the softer moments and is acting like a ruler, I think she is great. But the first half of the movie, she felt surprisingly cold to Mario. And I get that he is a stranger, but peach’s whole bit is her compassion and care. Peach can kick ass, that’s not the issue (plenty of source material shows she can hold her own) my problem is that she felt like she was missing her sweetness. Near the end we see her soften and it could be argued that Peach wasn’t really feeling sweet because of the situation… but anyone whose played a Mario game knows that’s not an issue. She didn’t need to be a damsel in distress, I just like when my peaches are sweeter. Also I wanted some Mareach. But I’m not gonna reflect that in the rating 5/10.

Donkey Kong

It’s just Seth Rogen’s voice. Now it’s not an awful performance. But everytime he spoke, I heard Seth. That being said, the character was fine. I liked Mario and DK’s Frenemy dynamic. They clearly butt heads and compete. It’s amusing. That being said, I wish Luigi got more scenes, instead of Seth Kong. He is never irritating, I do enjoy the cockiness and overall flare, but I wish they did something more with it 5/10

Toad:

Keegan Micheal-key’s Take on Toad is inspired. I found myself enjoying whenever Toad is on screen. I had no worries regarding his performance. But similar to Luigi, he isn’t given much to do. His main thing is a couple of gags and moving the plot along. I love him and wish he had more time given. 8/10

Kamek:

Kevin Micheal Richardson didn’t just do good in this roll, HE ABSOLUTELY SLAYED as Kamek. The loyal servant/father figure/ hype man of Bowser nails that slimy ness and fear he has for bowser. His dialogue is great, he is also just so much fun on screen. He did not need to go this hard for Kamek, but he did. 9/10

Cranky kong:

Fred Armisen phoned it in. This didn’t feel at all like Cranky to me. He didn’t even sound old. I’m glad he isn’t in the movie long but it bothered me. It’s just the kind of performance where you aren’t mad, just disappointed

2/10

King Penguin

Khary Payton, For a character basically made for the movie, he was perfect. My bias on both the Voice actor and Penguins. He had great lines, coming off as epic and comedic. His reaction to the Luma was also glorious. He wasn’t there for too long but he was there the right amount. 8/10

Bowser

Let’s talk about Jack Black as bowser. It’s perfect casting. Jack black PERFECTLY blended all of the bowser’s together to create in my opinion, the best version of bowser. In a vain similar to how Heath Ledger combined different Joker’s to make his performance. This bowser is intimidating, arrogant, funny, a simp, cruel, and overall everything you want in a kids movie villain. I could write a whole analysis on how this bowser is basically a perfect kids movie villain. But that is for another day. The power ballad alone makes him worthy of 10/10. Easiest 10/10 ranking I’ve made

[anzynai]

Idiot

Tsukasa & Nene (Project Sekai)

a/n: @thatonetickleblog PAYTON IT WAS REALLY HARD KEEPING IT A SECRET FROM YOU, BUT GUESS WHOS UR SQUEALING SANTA! i was really happy that i got you, especially we have similar interests and i originally planned to get this done for christmas but things came up… anyways, i kinda struggled characterizing nene so sorry if she’s ooc, BUT I HOPE U ENJOY PAYTON ILYSM

summary: when nene and tsukasa are left alone to practice for a show, things end up turning in a way neither of them expected.

word count: 1.2k

——

Nene stood awkwardly as Tsukasa prattled on and on about their next show. He was clearly and very vocal about his excitement. Of course, she was excited too, but… did he have to be. so loud?!

The two were at Tsukasa’s house. Rui realized he forgot an important prop and went to go get it, Emu deciding to tag along. This left Nene and Tsukasa all alone, which Nene didn’t mind, but she wasn’t used to dealing with the other’s seemingly infinite amount of energy.

“So what do you think, Nene?!” Tsukasa shouted, after a few minutes. Nene flinched at being addressed all of a sudden.

“It’s.. an idea, alright..” She started, but trailed off. “But…”

“But..?” This caught Tsukasa’s attention as he slowed down his movements, intent on listening to her completely.

“I think if we reveal who the culprit was at the end… it might leave the audience feeling unsatisfied? It kinda.. takes out the magical feel to it…” She mumbled, feeling shy. “I-I mean, it’s a good idea but the kind of story we are acting feels like an open ending would fit better.”

Tsukasa was silent for a few moments and Nene wondered if he didn’t like what he said.

“Hah!” Tsukasa yelled out, suddenly, hitting his fist to his palm. “You’re right, Nene!”

Tsukasa pulled out a pencil and began marking on the script. Nene, on the other hand, watched. She didn’t respond to his words, but she could feel happiness swelling up in her chest. She was afraid he wouldn’t like her changing the script, but she forgot what kind of person Tsukasa was.

“There we go! How’s that?” Tsukasa exclaimed, handing her the script. She read over it and skimmed through the notes, before giving an approving nod.

“It’s good.” She said, giving it back to the other.

“Great! Let’s practice!”

“N-now?! Shouldn’t we wait until Emu and Rui come back?” She asked, though she stood up anyway.

“We’ll practice when they are here too, but no harm in getting a head start!” Tsukasa explained, standing alongside her. He stretched his arms up for a moment, but pointed at a certain scene. “Let’s start here!”

“Okay..”

——

And so, they practiced. Since Tsukasa was the star of the show this time, that meant there were more scenes were Nene wasn’t as present or kinda just… stood there awkwardly. She didn’t mind, though. She didn’t want a lead spot like Tsukasa, anyway. Still, the role she was in, as the main character’s magical fairy guide, was a bit more out there than her previous roles.

“Hi-yah!” Tsukasa shouted, thrusting his palm out to the side and…

“Ow!” Nene gasped, holding her nose.

“Nene! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” Tsukasa all but lept at her, concern painted on his face.

“You..” Nene said, voice a bit nasally from covering her nose.

“How can I make it up to you?!”

“You idiot!” Nene let her impulses get the best of her as she pounced on Tsukasa, feeling a sudden desire for payback. She wasn’t exactly sure what fo do, thouugh, until she landed on top of him. Tsukasa, clearly not prepared for this uncharacteristic action, toppled over, landing on the sofa. A small squeal slipped from his mouth and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Nene looked down, her hands gripping each side of Tsukasa’s ribs.

“NenEHEHEHE?!” He blurted, but was interrupted by his own laughter. Nene didn’t really know exactly what she was doing, but now that she started, she felt she couldn’t stop.

“You need to be more careful wifh your actions.” She pouted, annoyed, but kneaded her small hands into the other’s sides.

“Whahahat ahahahare y-you dohohohoing?!” Tsukasa screeched, shocked and embarrassed. Nene felt embarrassed too, but she pushed that feeling away.

“Payback..” She said, simply, not trusting herself to say any more. It was hard to admit, but Tsukasa actually.. looked quite cute like this. She was used to his boastful smiles and laughter, but this.. felt more genuine, like a side of Tsukasa she rarely got to see.

“Pahahahay bahahack?! I sahahahaid I wahahahas s-sohohorry!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been so reckless!” Nene spat, pinching in between each of the bones in his ribs. His ribs seemed like a sensitive area, but they couldn’t ellicit anything more than giggles and Nene had the urge to incite laughter out of the blond.

Instead, she began squeezing at his sides, light and barely there, but enough for yet another squeal to pass Tsukasa’s lips.

“NOHOHOHO N-nohohot thEHehere!”

Oh. This seemed like a good spot. Nene decided to linger there for a couple seconds, testingly trying different areas of his sides, different pressures, anything to see what gave her the most reactions.

“You’re so sensitive. It’s fitting for you…” She muttered, pressing at his sides like they were buttons on a controller.

“W-whAHAHAt is thAHAHAHAt s-sUHPOSehehed tohoho mean?!” Tsukasa cackled. “Just pihick sohohomewhere else!”

“If you say so.” And so, somewhere else became his stomach, including his belly button. She scribbled over his ticklish skin, though she could tell the clothing he was wearing offered some protection, but still drove him mad nonetheless.

“EhEHEHEHEh..!” Tsukasa shrieked, giggling and laughing. He seemed to squirm a lot, but didn’t put up much of a fight. Nene decided to store that in her mind for later, but then she thought about how stupid it would be to do that, so she erased it from her mind. (She would still remember.)

“Everywhere is just so.. sensitive, isn’t it?” Tsukasa blushed at that. It was true. Tsukasa was one of the most ticklish people she knew, even among her troupe, which were embarrassingly ticklish themselves. She was sure it was her and Tsukasa who held the record. Though, it was only Rui who knew about this fact compared to everyone being aware of Tsukasa’s ticklishness, through the fours’ countless tickle fights. Nene usually stayed out of those, though.

“Stohohohop..!” Tsukasa mumbled, through his laughter, holding his hands up to his face.

“…” Nene dipped her finger into his bellybutton. At least, as far as it could go through his clothes, and vibrated her fingers.

“AHHHAHHAAHA!”” Tsukasa laughed and laughed and Nene smiled along with him, resisting the urge to laugh to show him just how much she was enjoying this. But, she could indulge herself in a smile at the very least, she thought to herself.

“Ah, looks like you two had fun without us, huh?” Rui’s smirk could be heard in his voice and just like a cat, Nene jumped from her current position to almost all across on the other side of the room, her blush matching Tsukasa’s for being caught. Tsukasa stayed where he was, residual giggles leaving his mouth.

“Nene, you tickled Tsukasa?! No fair!” Emu pouted, though she seemed happy that they seemed to have a good time.

“Shut up..” Nene muttered, quietly, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, she got me pretty good…” Tsukasa sighed, the laughter and tingles finally leaving his system.

“I wanna tickle Tsukasa too!” Emu exclaimed, wiggling her fingers. Tsukasa only responded with a gulp.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Rui pondered, almost as if he was feeling nostalgic.

“It’s only been two days!” Tsukasa squawked, panic and anticipation in his face, but before he could say any more, Emu was already tickling him, Rui following shortly after.

Idiots, Nene thought, as she smiled and decided to join in.

[mariacallous]

The Islamic State’s recent return to prominence with its bloody attack on a Moscow concert venue overshadowed a solemn and tragic anniversary of a different kind of terrorism. Five years ago in March, a white supremacist named Brenton Tarrant carried out twin shooting attacks against two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand. Fifty-one people were killed, all of whom were Muslim.

Until then the conventional wisdom was that Islamist terrorist groups like al Qaeda and ISIS posed the only serious terrorist threat to Western countries, with Christian white supremacists rarely mentioned. This assumption was shattered with the Christchurch attack, which would become the defining exemplar of modern far-right terrorism—and a precursor of more tragedies to come. At a moment when attention is again focused on the threat from the Islamic State, it is important to remember that other terrorist threats exist and can have equally lethal consequences. The violent, almost viral momentum of such attacks inspire copycats and require an holistic appraisal to effectively and sufficiently counter them.

It took only weeks for other violent far-right extremists to emulate Tarrant’s target and tactics. On March 24, an arson attack on an Escondido, California mosque was perpetrated by a white supremacist who spraypainted “For Brenton Tarrant -t. /pol/” on the pavement, an obscure reference to the 8chan imageboard that both terrorists frequented. A month later, that same person, John Earnest, walked into a Jewish synagogue in nearby Poway and opened fire, murdering one person. “Tarrant was a catalyst for me personally,” he wrote in his manifesto, which itself copied another of Tarrant’s tactics.

10,000 miles away and five months later, Philip Manshaus, a 21-year-old Norwegian neo-Nazi, was clearly and directly inspired by Tarrant in his targeting choice, communications efforts, and sanctification of his terrorist predecessors when he murdered his Asian-origin stepsister as she slept, before proceeding to the Al-Noor Islamic Centre in Bærum, a posh suburb of Oslo with a GoPro attached to his helmet. (Manshaus was quickly subdued by elderly worshippers.)

Tarrant’s influence can also be seen in the shooting at an El Paso Walmart, perpetrated by Patrick Crusius, a white supremacist who killed 23 Latinos in August 2019. (Crusius opened his manifesto by referencing Tarrant.) And, Payton Gendron, who killed 10 Black Americans at a Tops Friendly Market in Buffalo in May 2022, plagiarized large sections of the New Zealand shooter’s manifesto in his own screed.

With his own violent act, Tarrant was following the model arguably advanced by Anders Breivik eight years earlier. In July 2011, Breivik murdered 77 persons in twin attacks. Tarrant himself was actually inspired by events in the United States. While dismissing Donald Trump as a politician, he nonetheless praised the then-serving president “as a symbol of renewed white identity.” Notably, Tarrant also weaponized strategies of leaderless resistance and accelerationism, which respectively advocate for lone acts of violence designed to spread violence and disorder leading to the collapse of elected government; both of these can be traced to the American neo-Nazi movement of the late-1970s and early 1980s.

More than anything, then, the Christchurch shooting was indicative of the increasing internationalization of domestic, far-right terrorism. The potential for its continuation and expansion should be a matter of greater international concern. A more coordinated and systematic transnational response, focusing on better countering social media radicalization and increased multi-lateral law enforcement coordination and intelligence sharing, is key to containing this threat.

The ideology of Tarrant’s manifesto, titled “The Great Replacement,” can be traced back at least as far as the Reconstruction era after the U.S. civil war. The name refers to a conspiratorial rant which claims that Jews and Marxists in the West are deliberately replacing Western white communities by encouraging and facilitating mass immigration in previously homogeneous polities. Today, this dangerous and virulent ideology poses a particular challenge when it is weaponized by politicians and media figures.

What is also noteworthy about the Tarrant model, and is in fact more easily achieved today, is lone actor violence using firearms. In the United States, where the lack of gun control laws significantly enhances terrorist capability, such attacks are particularly effective at totally destabilizing communities, entrenching a deep sense of perennial danger. Precisely this point was made by the European white supremacist who attacked a gay bar in Bratislava in October 2022. His manifesto praised the Buffalo shooter for successfully damaging the cohesiveness of the community in which he acted.

It is the nature of these “extremely online” terrorist attacks that details are often hidden from public view for years after. Only this February, for instance, have researchers in New Zealand revealed previously unknown online posts that actually undermined much of what Tarrant would eventually declare in his manifesto, suggesting he in fact began dreaming of his violent act long before he claimed. Not only do his earlier posts suggest law enforcement and intelligence agencies may have missed an opportunity to intervene in this budding terrorist’s trajectory, they also reveal specific details about his tactics and targeting, which followed those of Dylann Roof, the gunman who in 2015 attacked a place of worship in Charleston, SC. The findings underscore the continuing centrality of social media for modern terrorism and counterterrorism—and the importance of tackling social media radicalization head on.

The New Zealand government has led the charge in holding social media companies accountable for wanton radicalization on their platforms. Former Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern founded the Christchurch Call, which has worked with social media companies to better address harmful content on their platforms through countermeasures including content moderation and algorithmic reform. A suite of gun control measures, meanwhile, included buy backs and bans on high-capacity magazines, with the initial bill passing the parliament 119-1. New Zealand also took symbolic steps to counter the ideology that inspired the killing. The Christchurch Commission Report, when it was released in late 2020, was titled Ko tō tātou kāinga tēnei—Maori for “This is our home”—a resolute statement of unity and openness across race, religion, and language.

Despite the initial failure to stop Tarrant’s attack, this sweeping counterterrorism response has successfully derailed various follow-on attacks in New Zealand. Other countries should heed lessons from the Christchurch tragedy and New Zealand’s holistic policy responses. Namely, a focus on three dimensions of effective counter terrorism: combatting online extremism; escalating countering violent extremism programming; and, most importantly, building an international coalition, especially among those democracies most often targeted with this violence, to ensure a united front in countering domestic threats. Though these are aimed at individual democratic countries, they often have a dangerous transnational dimension and intention.

Firstly, the imperative to counter the free rein of extremism on social media has never been more critical. Today, extremists proliferate freely online, as social media titans, most notably Elon Musk’s X, dilute their online harms departments. European countries and institutions have been aggressive in pushing back, with the European Union for instance, implementing the Digital Services Act, forcing large social companies to better police their platforms or risk major fines. Last fall the United Kingdom enacted the Online Safety Act that gives government with parliamentary approval the power to suppress a range of online content.

The First Amendment of the United States Constitution makes the adoption of similarly far-reaching measures to curb digital content more complicated and controversial. However, the United States could take signal action by reforming Section 230 of the 1996 Communications Decency Act. This law, enacted at the dawn of the internet, is an anachronism in an era where more people get their news online—and especially from social media—than from traditional, mainstream news and media sources. Section 230 protects internet and social media platforms from being held liable for content they publish. Removing that protection would likely force social media platforms to more actively monitor and remove dangerous content, including not just extremism but a range of other online harms, such as child sexual abuse material—much like the UK’s Online Safety Act.

Secondly, the United States in concert with other countries should considerably ramp up and improve their own respective domestic programming on countering violent extremism (CVE), focused on addressing vulnerabilities to extremism and radicalization, including mental illness and histories of isolation. Across the board, far-right terrorists are getting younger (some arrests now involve individuals as young as 13), and although Tarrant is a relative exception, his case exhibited the same instances of bullying and family trauma that often accompany extremism today. CVE, however, remains a mostly localized and uncoordinated cottage industry both nationally and especially transnationally of social workers, psychologists, former extremists, and welldoers—professionals doing important work, but often lacking direction, funding, and scale. The German-Swedish EXIT program provides one model of a framework for counter- and de-radicalization programming that might be replicated.

Our final recommendation is an ambitious one: as the international community is increasingly challenged by these ideologies and the violence they inspire, it should create a more formal multi-lateral framework to coordinate responses to these trans-national manifestations of domestic political violence. First, and most importantly, more organized cooperation than currently exists would better enable the exchange of best practices. Second, enhanced intelligence sharing about transnational terrorist networks and violent individuals communicating internationally would enable more effective disruption of cross-border terrorist financing. Finally, the sum total of improved cooperation would appreciably advance the core democratic values and traditions the countries most afflicted by this violence share, including trust in electoral systems and better countering the conspiracy theories that threaten undermine them. Such a working group might emerge from pre-existing alliances such as the Five Eyes partnership already linking intelligence sharing between the United States and New Zealand as well as Australia, Canada, and the United Kingdom. In this way likeminded countries with shared values can cooperate in undermining a pervasive threat that now threatens national security across the Western world.

[valkyrayn]

drabble | marius having no clue on how a washing machine works 

because payton had been the one doing the laundry for him for the most part of his life. since he’s moved out the mansion to live with rosa, now he has to figure out how this laundry thing works. 

never has a machine looked so intimidating

their bed is a mess. if it was an ordinary bed, it would’ve broken in half from how hard they were fucking on it last night

rosa had left for work, leaving him with the task to clean up their ‘mess.’ she’d offered but he said ‘i got this babe.’

he regretted it now. he’s far from getting it. with arms braced against the machine, he leans down to read the labels.

what are these buttons even for. spin? what does it even do? water level? how much water does one need to fill? high? low? medium?

dry? hmm. maybe that would work? he needs to dry the sheets. it’s drenched with—the mess that came from their rigorous, sexual activities

ok maybe just drying isn’t going to work. drying wouldn’t get rid of the smell. that much he knows.

damnit why did he have to fuck her through the mattress like that? why did he, in that post-orgasm stupor, confidently offered to wash the sheets, as if he’s done it before?

he knows how to. in theory. but now looking at the labels again, maybe he doesn’t.

he probably should’ve searched the internet on how to do it but out of habit, his fingers had pressed call on payton’s contact number.

“hello, master marius?”

marius clears his throat, unsure on how to start. “I need help.”

marius mumbled the rest of his sentence, or more like sped through it that payton misses it completely. “sorry?”

“howdoiusethewashingmachine?”

“master marius, sorry but I didn’t catch that.”

“payton, please.” he’s on the verge of crying from embarrassment

“how do I…use the…washing machine.” he slaps a hand over his face and groans, wishing for the floor to swallow him. he really should’ve just googled it. 

silence at the other end of the phone, and then a throat clears. “you want to switch this to video?”

marius can’t tell if that’s a better idea or not. he contemplated for a few seconds and then switched the call to video. immediately, he regretted it.

“how much laundry are you doing? what kind of fabric is it? did you separate the colours?”

he’s not about to show their sex stained sheets. absolutely not.

“it’s…i don’t know. cotton?” 

payton blinks, watching marius grin awkwardly in the screen, refusing to turn the camera around. clearly there was no point of switching this to video

payton clears his throat again. “can you show me?”

“no.” marius replied a little too quickly, averting his gaze, staring awkwardly at anything but payton. 

“master marius, I cannot help you if I don’t know what material you’re dealing with. you could risk—

“it’s the bed sheets!” 

the goddamn silence again. marius looks at payton from the corner of his eye, avoiding full eye contact. great now payton’s gonna put two and two together and figure out exactly what it implies.

“the covers too?”

“…yes.”

“those are different materials. separate the cotton from the silk and wash them separately.” of course payton would know exactly what materials his bed sheets and covers are, he did pack it for them after all.

marius is reeling. how? what? wash separately? 

“what detergent are you using?”

“i don’t know. the normal one?”

“with fragrance? is it plant-based?”

marius scrambles through the laundry cabinet, trying to read the labels on the bottles.

“fuck i don’t know. it says lavender. that’s plant-based right?”

“no. that means it has fragrance. you can’t use that, it’ll trigger your allergy.”

“what the fuck? what is plant-based then?”

“oh and make sure it says detergent, not softener.”

marius pauses in the chaos, brain flatlining.

“what the fuck is a softener?!?!”

after almost an hour of back and forth of payton asking questions and marius asking questions back for having no idea what anything means, they finally came to a conclusion that it’s a lost cause—for now at least.

“I’ll have vincent send it over to you.”

“certainly, master marius.”

“please don’t tell rosa about this.”

“I will not.” 

when vincent came through the door, he had specifically asked for the ‘coitus-stained sheets and covers’ to which marius responded with a mortified look on his face

“i’m gonna kill payton.” he should’ve said not to tell a soul, vincent included. 

the next time they stained the sheets again, marius resigned and called payton over to finally teach him how to use the goddamn contraption

Pax is gonna have to build an auto washing machine that can separate the materials and choose the washing modes by itself because fuck this shit seriously

why is doing laundry this complicated??

he doesn’t outright admit it but payton do enjoy teaching his young master the ways to conquer laundry activities. ever since he’s moved out of the mansion, he found that he actually missed him and his theatrics

so times like these are precious

even if it means having to learn about the fact that this young boy and his fiance are sex fiends and the sheets and covers need to be washed at least once a week, every week

so teaching him how to do it himself from now on is for the best. because there’s no way in hell he’s doing it again

end ||

just a fun drabble i had lying around in drafts. originally written for twitter so that explains the shortness. i just love the people in marius’ life like vincent and payton and do enjoy writing them. 

also i guess you can say the sequel to this is ride your king where it mentions that marius has learned how to do the laundry at the end 😌 

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Me when I saw that my mutuals and friends were unable to get eras tickets

[downwithpeople]

Big fan of your rpg actual play opinions :) do you have any favorite series you'd recommend?

i've listened to a bunch of these now and tbh i'm not the biggest fan of the format. they always feel like they're caught on an awkward place between let's play and radio drama. ultimately most of the big ones have gone all in on the latter but i actually enjoy seeing mechanics play out because i think games are interesting and they create interesting stimuli for the players. here's the ones i've listened to and enjoyed:

adventure zone: self explanatory. first two seasons only.

dimension 20: pretty good despite my griping. starstruck odyssey was the best season. fantasy high s1 is probably a must-listen for anyone who remotely enjoys dnd actual plays.

neoscum: stopped listening around the patrick rothfuss ep. constantly caught between maudlin melodrama, puerile improv and the kind of comically bad pacing that was previously seen only in shonen manga. surprisingly dogged focus on the mechanics of the hilariously bad shadowrun 5e system. worth checking out because when it's funny it's extremely funny. patreon eps are well worth the money if you enjoy the main campaign even remotely

rude tales of magic: stopped listening around ruleshaven. branson reese is a comic genius and everyone in the cast is extremely funny. it has the same issues with focus and pacing that neoscum has. it may as well be completely freeform for how often the mechanics are invoked by either the players or the GM. it's also worth a listen.

RPPR delta green eps specifically: these are guys playing the game, like playing playing the game. ross payton's scenarios are good enough that they're getting the official publication treatment; he has a few too many latino gangsters springing out of hedgerows for my taste but the god's teeth episodes aren't bad at all.

red moon roleplaying unknown armies eps specifically: great introduction to what unknown armies is all about. you get to hear greg stole's remarkably sleazy voice and the funniest NPC reaction to they/them pronouns i've ever heard.

mage: the awakening - broken diamond: dave brookshaw became line developer for mage partially off the strength of his actual plays. broken diamond is your one-stop shop for learning what mage is all about and how it looks in play. soul cage is probably even better but i never finished reading it.

unknown armies - DO WHAT YOU WANT 'CAUSE A PIRATE IS FREE: mellonbread writes extremely good scenarios. it is unsurprising that his unknown armies campaign is also extremely good. this is an actual play about a gang of magical food truck operators in a setting where wizards have infiltrated and control the largest fast food chains for their own nefarious purposes. it's twelve posts on blogspot. go read now.

[angsty-prompt-hole]

OC in 15

Tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well!

I'm leaving this as an open tag.

I'm gonna do this for my OC Henny because he says a lot of unhinged things and he also has the most stuff I've written for him.

"Uh...that's complicated. You know how Payton can't stay dead? Well, it's actually nothing like that now that I think about it, but point is they're kinda in the middle. Perpetually. Forever."

"...Would it be disrespectful to say I lived bitches? Kinda feel like it would be."

"...Fine. Fine! Spooky scary tunnels it is. Great."

"No wonder so many of y'all fuckin' die here. You fuckin' lunatics are just askin' for it. I'll never understand humans."

"I'm not supposed to help anyone in this hellhole, but considerin' the excessively gruesome threats from Payton, guess what I'm doin'."

"Humans create the weirdest shit I swear. Those Monster Energy coffees are very chuggable, but everyone said I'd be bouncin' off the walls and I feel nothin'. Your coffee drinks are broken."

"Swear to gods if I have to save one more tourist from going into the mines I'm gonna lose it. Don't follow weird whispers into the mines, kids."

"Apparently I actually have to report what's goin' on in this hellhole. Not sure why, considerin' there's only like one person in this entire fuckin' town who has no idea what's goin' on ever. Anyways, ritual sacrifice takin' place at the church later so maybe don't go there."

"What the fuckin hell is Scooby Doo?"

"I'm up at super strange hours of the day and I like whatever those things you humans eat are that are like tortilla tubes filled with beans."

"Didn't know I could actually get tired, but here we are."

[angstyaches]

If you're taking requests can you do an Autumn sickfic. One where she's confused, running fever and vomiting

This is going to be in two parts because I wanted to include Autumn at college and Autumn being cared for by Payton, but it was a bit impossible to make both happen at once!

CW: vague mentions of diarrhea, sickness, family issues, stubborn sickie, emeto, vomiting in public, embarrassment, confusion, crying.

___

“Morning, baby! You’re – are you still in bed?”

“Yeah. I think I’m going to take a sick day,” Autumn said with a sigh. She was curled up on her side, arm outstretched with the side of her phone braced against the mattress. The duvet was tucked under her chin, and would have been pulled all the way up to her cheekbones had she not known it would muffle her voice.

On the screen, Payton was wearing their headphones and walking beneath the low-reaching branches that lined the sidewalks in the nice parts of town. Autumn could see the pale, bright sky behind their head. Their one-sided bangs kept flopping heavily over their eye, no matter how many times they tried to tuck them away behind their ear.

“Aw,” Payton frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Just… stomach stuff,” Autumn shrugged, wriggling her shoulders a little deeper under the duvet. She debated saying more, but decided to leave it at that, unless they asked. Payton didn’t need to hear about Autumn’s unfortunate nocturnal toilet adventures first thing in the morning.

“Aw, your belly hurts?”

Autumn nodded, cheek nuzzling against her pillow. That wasn’t a lie; just an incomplete truth. Her guts were in absolute disarray for some reason or another, and her stomach was twisting into knots with what was either nausea or hunger.

If she could figure out which it was, she might have felt like she had a slightly better handle on the situation.

“I have to open and close today,” Payton sighed. “If I was getting off any earlier, I’d offer to come around –”

“That’s okay, baby,” Autumn smiled. She hoped the smile would cover up the fact that even if Payton had been free, she wouldn’t have wanted them to drop by anyway. Not here. She dropped the smile again. “But who the heck talked you into working such a long shift? That’s not fair.”

“It’s fine,” Payton smiled, and Autumn got the feeling that their smile was hiding almost as much as hers was.

“Who?” she asked again.

“Annie, but –”

“P.”

“I need the money anyway.” Payton shook their head. “And don’t change the subject. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Your mum’s at home with you, right?”

“She is.” Another incomplete truth. Autumn’s mum being home didn’t necessarily equate to any great help. But there was water in the taps, and a blanket on her bed, and that was all she could really see herself needing.

She swallowed. “Payton, if Annie doesn’t stop power abusing you, I really think you should –”

“Baby!” Payton whined, their grin even wider now. When their emotions swelled, so did their grin. It should have frustrated Autumn to no end, but instead, the sight of their smiling face never failed to fill her with joy. “Stop trying to take care of me, and take care of yourself. Just for one day. One day! That’s all I’m asking.”

Autumn sighed.

“Well?”

“Alright,” she said, though she had every intention of broaching the subject again as soon as there was no good reason for Payton to stop her.

Payton had stopped walking. Autumn recognised the sliver of red brick façade over their shoulder. “I’m about to open up. I can keep you on chat while I’m counting up the registers –”

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t want you to make a mistake and get in trouble.”

Their cheek gave a grateful twitch. “Still looking out for me, I see, but I’ll let it go. Get some sleep, okay?”

Autumn planted a hand on her stomach under the duvet, palm circling over the dull, burbling ache. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Well, I’m going to.” With their free hand, Payton made a little megaphone next to their mouth. “Get some sleep!”

Autumn couldn’t resist a smile at that. “Really?”

“Love you, bye…” Payton blew a kiss towards the camera.

“Bye, baby, love you.” Autumn slid her hand from her belly so she could give a little wave.

“Okay, one more time – get some sleep!” Payton babbled directly before hanging up.

Autumn was still smiling to herself as she slid a little lower in bed, settling in, phone still in her hands. She needed to message her college friends and tell them she couldn’t make it to class or to rehearsal today. Then she needed to email her professors so that they knew she was sick, and not just dodging their lectures.

She needed to –

“Mmph,” Autumn winced, curling up a little tighter as a sharp pain jabbed at her stomach. She tucked her phone under her pillow and flung back the duvet, gently getting her feet to the floor and easing herself up as she had at least four times during the night.

She was really feeling the disruptions to her sleep on top of everything else; her head was spinning, her shoulders and back were spasming dully, and she had to put out a hand to stop herself careening sideways into her dresser.

And wow, did her stomach ache. She worked the heel of her hand into her belly as she opened her bedroom door and started across the landing to the bathroom.

“Autumn!”

Goosebumps rippled up her arms. She turned around to see that her mother was halfway up the stairs, hair pulled back, wearing an astonished expression.

“Why are you still in your pyjamas?” Autumn’s mother demanded, eyeing, in particular, the fluffy socks on her feet. Autumn generally kept it a secret that she wore socks to bed, since it was the kind of thing her parents said was only for old people.

“I actually…”

As she soaked in her mother’s expectant gaze, the thought of calling in sick and spending the day at home suddenly didn’t make Autumn feel relieved. It made her feel hot. Hotter than she’d already been feeling.

Now that she thought about it, she didn’t feel all too bad.

“I slept through my alarm,” she babbled in the rushed tone of someone without much time to spare for chitchat. “It’s fine, I just need to brush my teeth and get dressed, and I’ll be out of here.”

“What about breakfast? The most important meal of the day?”

Autumn swore she felt her stomach gurgle in protest just at the thought of food. “It’s okay, I’m meeting Leigh and Dixon before our first class.”

“For breakfast?”

Autumn hated lying. Hated it. “Mmhmm?”

Her mum looked up at the faded floral clock on the hallway wall. “Better get a move on, then, darling, or you’ll definitely be late.”

“Yeah, I know.” Autumn cleared her throat and hurried towards the bathroom.

___

“Two sandwiches today?” Dixon chuckled, ducking down into their usual spot on the floor outside the student theatre.

Autumn found herself smiling at him, enjoying the fact that she didn’t have to wonder whether he was food-shaming her or just curious. They ate lunch together a lot, so it was perfectly fine that he had noticed something was different.

“I ended up skipping breakfast this morning.” Autumn took a bite from her ham-and-cheese. She also had a chicken-and-stuffing, still in the packaging, sitting on the floor next to her leg.

Next to Dixon, Leigh nodded deeply. She’d already been given this same explanation, since she’d had the unfortunate privilege of listening to Autumn’s stomach growl throughout their morning classes. After a bout of nausea on the tram, Autumn had started feeling spectacularly better, and was starving by the time she was seated in her first lecture.

Leigh was currently jabbing at her usual salad with her usual bamboo fork. “Honestly, Autumn, you’re a fucking hero for lasting this long.”

Autumn took another mouthful of her sandwich, exactly how she imagined a hero would have taken the same bite.

“I would die without my breakfast,” Leigh murmured.

Dixon gave an exasperated laugh. “A smoothie is not breakfast.”

“Yes, it is, and we are not having this argument again.” Leigh leaned her shoulder into Dixon’s side, and the contact made him blush and look away from her. It was all Autumn could do not to punch each of them in the leg out of delighted frustration. Could they not just kiss and get it over with?

“Well, I didn’t mean to skip it,” she said with a shrug. “My stomach wasn’t feeling right when I got up.”

“Ah. Was your dinner spicy last night?” Dixon hid his mouth with his hand as he chewed and swallowed. “The day after eating anything spicy, I always wake up with a bad tummy.”

“Oh, charming,” Leigh cut in.

“What? All I said was –”

“Enough information, Dixon, we’re eating!”

As she chewed another mouthful of her sandwich, Autumn ventured a guilty glance at her phone. There were two messages from Payton, one of them a GIF she couldn’t view without opening it, one of them reading ‘hope you’re okay, baby x”. She still hadn’t told them that she’d gone to college, let alone that she was staying after classes to rehearse for DramSoc’s production of Beauty and the Beast. She had been put in the chorus this time, but if it hadn’t been for that, she wouldn’t have made friends with Dixon, and wouldn’t have gotten close with Leigh – the production’s Mrs. Potts – so Autumn couldn’t complain too much.

“Eleven minutes to two,” Dixon muttered, mouth full of food as he checked his watch.

“Shit.” Leigh shovelled a huge forkful of leaves and cranberries into her mouth, unfolded her legs, and reached for her backpack. “Come on, let’s eat and walk.”

Dixon let out a groan.

Leigh gave a shrug as she rocked onto the soles of her feet and glided up in a graceful squat. “Does either of you want Maeve to yell at you for being late?”

Autumn and Dixon shared a glance before getting to their feet.

___

Autumn winced as she leaned forward to tighten the laces of her left character shoe. She was a little bloated – though whether that was thanks to her stomach’s morning upset, or her skipped meal, or the extra sandwich she’d gulped down in about four bites whilst half-walking, half-running to the Drama Soc. theatre. She’d worn one of her floatier dresses today, meaning it didn’t push on her stomach at all, but she did regret wearing tights. It would have been better to have risked cold legs, rather than endure the elastic waistband that was trying to bite into her flesh.

She attempted to shimmy it into a comfier position as she straightened back up.

“All good?” Dixon asked softly from behind her, and she nodded without turning her head. She tugged at the collar of her blouse, feeling that same smothering wave of heat she’d gotten in the hallway that morning.

The backing track to Be Our Guest started up, and even though everyone in the wings had already been waiting for it, they still jolted to a deeper level of attention, Autumn included.

As she was stepping onto the stage, her character shoes might as well have been stilts; every movement felt like it might topple her. Her hurried lunch gurgled within the walls of her stomach, some of it feeling like it might have gotten stuck in her gullet en route. Sweat prickled the sides of her neck and she wished she’d had some more water before joining the others in the wings. The time-worn floorboards swirled and dipped beneath her as she moved, and seemed to drift up closer to her face every time she blinked.

She didn’t so much prance to her position on stage as she did totter, and the next girl down the row – Aimee – caught her in the ribs with an elbow as she turned on the spot. Entirely Autumn’s fault, of course, for missing her mark. Aimee didn’t even look at her, didn’t miss a beat.

Autumn teetered backwards a few steps, only stopping when she felt Dixon’s hands on her shoulders.

He gently spun her around, which wasn’t in the choreography. His face came into focus just for a second. “Autumn? Are you –?”

Autumn’s stilts – no, her character shoes – no, her actual legs gave out under her, and the stage lights seemed to flash right into the back of her skull, and her stomach sank like a stone, and then everything seemed to go quiet.

For about three seconds.

The first thing she heard was “is she okay?” from an indiscernible voice among the chorus.

And the next thing she heard was a harrowing retch that came from the back of her own throat. Shrieks and squeals broke out across the stage as the chorus disbanded.

Barely-digested chunks of sandwich – she really hadn’t chewed all that well – came gushing out of her, soaking her knees and dripping all around Dixon’s ankles. He wasn’t holding her by the shoulders anymore, and he’d taken a step back to avoid being headbutted in the stomach while Autumn gasped and gagged, but after that, he seemed to have frozen to the spot.

And the music cut out to angered shouts from Maeve. Probably wondering why her chorus had all retreated to the wings. “What? What’s happened, what’s going on?”

“Autumn,” Dixon murmured, “are you –?”

Whatever his question was, Autumn didn’t hear it over the ringing in her ears as her mouth stretched open again, and hot, thick vomit came shooting out of her. She could feel the muscular contractions all the way down past her belly button, as though her body couldn’t have possibly been trying harder to rid itself of its contents.

She wrapped her arms around her tummy, miserably wishing yet again that she wasn’t wearing those elasticated tights.

“Well, this is just bloody fucking fantastic,” Maeve was grumbling from the front of the stage, where she’d climbed up to inspect the damage. Autumn couldn’t even bear to glance up at her, choosing instead to keep her head down and at least try to keep all of her sick in one place.

“Shit!” That voice was a little more comforting than Maeve’s. Leigh. “Is she okay?”

“I-I-I don’t know, she just –” Dixon didn’t seem capable of providing any further information, so Leigh clicked her tongue at him and took hold of Autumn’s elbow. Her grip was a little rougher than Autumn was expecting, which startled a little whimper out of her. She was hit with the realisation that she’d been expecting – no, wanting – Payton’s gentle fingertips, their light touch. “Come on, let’s go to the toilet, yeah?”

Autumn tried to nod as Leigh coaxed her forward a few steps. Her throat clenched, her mouth shooting open again, her stomach seizing in a dry heave, and some of the chorus who had ducked back into the wings gasped in horror and stumbled even further back to let her through.

___

They were halfway to the ground floor bathroom of the student centre before Autumn realised that her own character shoes were soaked through with undigested chunks of ham and cheese and mayonnaise too, and the next turn of her stomach came from the realisation that she was going to have to let her parents know that she needed to buy new ones. Autumn made her own money, but not a lot of it, and most of it she contributed towards living expenses.

Oh, and she should probably replace Dixon’s too, since she –

“Leigh,” she groaned weakly, clutching her belly.

“One second, just one more second,” Leigh assured her, shoving open the swinging door to the bathroom and dashing towards the nearest stall with Autumn in tow.

Autumn fell upon the toilet seat with a gasp of relief so intense that it probably sounded like pleasure. She almost blushed, but there wasn’t enough blood left in her face for that.

"Fuck, you poor thing," Leigh exclaimed. Autumn could vaguely sense her pacing back and forth just outside the stall, occasionally nudging the door open a couple of inches to keep an eye on her.

Autumn was seeing stars and felt as though her throat had been wrung out like a sponge. Every splash that touched the toilet water sent her further into a slump, until she was barely sure that she'd even left bed this morning. Was this all a horrible dream? Surely she hadn't just puked her guts up in front of the entire Drama Society, right on the beautiful stage where stories played out so prettily...?

“Leigh! Uh... I’ve got Autumn’s bag,” Dixon’s voice called out.

“The hell are you doing?” Leigh asked gently, still lingering outside of Autumn's stall. “Just bring it here.”

“But…” Autumn couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine that Dixon had gone the colour of beetroot. “It’s the ladies’.”

“You’re adorable. Bring it here.”

Dixon grunted. “I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or insulting me.”

“Let’s call it both.” Leigh began audibly fidgeting with the zips on Autumn’s bag.

“How are you doing, Autumn?” Dixon asked, and she couldn't help but think of the kind look he'd given her just before she'd vomited, and then the sight of his shoes dripping with her stomach contents.

Autumn had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing. “I-I’m sorry. Sorry about your shoes.”

“What…? No, no, don’t… I needed a new pair anyway. This was the sign I needed to take the leap.”

“Got it.”

“Her phone?”

“Yeah, but it’s locked.”

“Autumn, hon?” Dixon’s voice came a little closer to her again. “Can you unlock your phone?”

Autumn frowned, but stuck out her thumb to activate the screen. “Wh-why?” she croaked. When she tried to think of any possible reason they would need to access her phone, her thoughts became a hazy, black void. A bead of sweat cooled as it rolled down past the dimples in her spine, disappearing into the constricting waistband of her tights. She huffed. Wow, she wasn’t sure she’d ever sweat so much in her life.

“We’re just going to call… Well, who can we call for you?” Leigh asked. “Your mum? Is she free?”

“No! No.” Autumn shook her head, and a couple of tears came loose from her cheeks and landed on the toilet seat. A laugh bubbled up in her chest, which felt completely inappropriate, so she swallowed it back down.

“Then who?”

She sobbed quietly. Or, at least, she hoped it was quietly. “Payton,” she choked out, and it felt like a ball of acid had lodged high in her throat, slowly corroding the back of her head and eating into her thoughts and why, why was everything so dark all of a sudden.

“Payton,” she cried, lacing her fingers into her hair and shaking her head over the opening of the toilet bowl. “I just want Payton.”

[sirianasims]

Don is going out for once. When he arrives at the restaurant, he is surprised to see Jodi as host.

“Oh no, it’s you. Your… date is waiting. And don’t tell anyone I work here.”

“Sure, Jodi… Say hi to your mother for me.”

“Luna, my dear, you are as radiant as the first time I saw you.”

“Don, smooth as always. Unlike me. Literally. The last 30 years have taken their toll.”

“I was very sorry to hear about your husband.”

“Hey, we had 25 good years. I was sorry to hear about Alex too.”

“So what are you up to these days? No grandkids yet?”

“Oh, I should hope not, my daughter Amy is still a teenager.”

The food arrives, and Luna and Don spend a few hours catching up.

“Don, it was lovely to see you again. Do… do you want to come back to my place?”

“I’m sorry, Luna. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. But it was great to see you.”

Cora is back at work after having Eric, and the entire lab has been moved to a new, bigger facility with better security.

Cora is still stubbornly working on rocket upgrades. Surely it should be possible to get to Sixam in less than 7 months. Or at least in a smaller ship.

Payton, no longer her supervisor but her equal, tries talking her into doing other things.

“You never know, Cora. Inspiration could come from anywhere.”

“And me planting this has nothing to do with your bad knee?”

“That’s just a bonus.”

She also spends a lot of time experimenting with new and more efficient fuels, but she makes little progress.

Some of her co-workers are a little worried. Why does Cora act like she’s running out of time?

She almost seems like she has some sort of deadline coming up.

beginning / previous / next

[exculpateinteractivefiction]

💓 what gets their heart beating? i'm also a bit curious on how they feel about our resident assassin during crushing stage, but feel free to ignore if two questions are too much!

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

Mav: Treating him like he’s a person. It sounds odd on the surface but as someone who has always been treated as “the best/strongest” having someone that’s willing to be casual around him gets his heart racing.

Carmen: Someone doing small things for her. Getting her coffee in the morning, bringing her lunch while she’s working, helping with paperwork, etc.

Silas: The person of his interest laughing/smiling. He likes making people happy and that extends to whoever he’s romancing! He’s the type to stare at his partner/crush when he tells a joke to see if they laugh.

Juno: Remembering things about her! From asking about how a meeting she had that day went to buying a sweater she had mentioned wanting, someone taking the time to actually care about those small details means a lot to her.

Payton: Complimenting them on their skills. They are very used to compliments about their appearance, personality, and ability so when someone compliments them on something they actually put a lot of effort into their heart starts racing.

Amari: Their partner knowing what they want/need without them having to say it. The feeling of being not only understood but cared for without even having to say a word will make their heart race in an instant.

How do the ROs feel about MC during the crushing stage?

Mav: Denial (Part 1). Of course he’s giddy whenever MC’s around - they’re his best friend! His person! Platonically of course. Who wouldn’t be excited to reunite with an old friend?

Carmen: Denial (Part 2: The Electric Boogaloo). MC has always been impressive and that clearly hasn’t changed over the years. She wants to get closer - to get a better understanding of their skills of course…

Silas: MC is great! He’s so happy their back! He can’t wait to get to know them better - hopefully in more ways than one…

Juno: MC is definitely…something. She’s happy they’re back - both because it means she has less work and because she missed them. She’s aware that her feelings are less than platonic but is too busy to do anything about it at the moment.

Payton: Denial (Part 3: A Triology). MC’s back and more importantly super hot! Maybe they’ll be willing to have some fun? Nothing else of course - why would it be anything deeper?

Amari: MC is so fucking annoying. Why are they back? Are the rumors true? Why can’t they stop thinking about their lips?

…

…

Fuck.