#to see how the queuing is handled there)

[kaijutegu]

Is It Ok For An Alligator To Have Tape On Their Mouth?

Alligators make pretty amazing animal ambassadors when handled safely and ethically. And it is actually pretty safe to take them out to interact with the zoo-going public (or general public in some settings), when done correctly. Many zoos and outreach organizations do an amazing job of this! Every state has different rules, but even if a state doesn't mandate that alligators be banded... well, if you're a responsible crocodilian handler, you'll band anyways. It's a huge public safety issue! Even an accidental graze against their front teeth can cause injury. See, the alligators that are used as handle-able ambassadors are pretty small, and their teeth are razor sharp. An adult gator has sharp teeth, too, as well as blunt teeth for crushing, and they also have the additional force of their jaw muscles.

Here's what it sounds like when an adult alligator pops his jaw. (Don't worry about the hissing/gaping; this is a trained and queued behavior. The stick towards the top of the inside of the mouth is triggering the bite reflex. Chester probably got lots of chicken and fish as he learned to do this.)

Skip ahead to 0:32 if you wanna skip the guest commentary.

What's more, biting is an important reflex for crocodilians. The lower jaws of crocodilians are some of the most innervated tissues in the animal kingdom; they are more sensitive than human fingertips! Even the slightest touch triggers their bite reflex, which likely is an adaptation that lets them detect changes in water pressure that signal a snack heading their way.

Here's a pretty good video about the biomechanics of crocodilian jaws:

So yeah. They need to not be able to bite for public safety. There's just too much risk involved with an unbanded alligator (or other crocodilian). Fortunately, it's easy to get a crocodilian to not bite- you just need to band its mouth!

(This fella is Frodo the dwarf caiman, but the principle is the same.)

This works because while crocodilians have an extremely strong bite force (claims range from 2,000 PSI to 5,000+ PSI, but I don't have time to get into that now but someday I will probably), but not particularly strong muscles to open their mouths. Selective pressure for quickly nabbing prey in murky water where there's not a lot of visibility lead to pterygoid and adductor muscles so big, they extend into the animal's neck. But those muscles only pull the jaw closed- they don't work to open it! That's why you see people holding an alligator's mouth closed with their hands.

Safe bands include:

Silicone tape- this is the best. It sticks to itself and not the gator's snout

Electrical tape

Medical tape

Rubber or elastic bands

There are other options, but these are the most popular- they're cheap, easily available, and safe. So if you see an alligator (or other crocodilian) out in public and it's got tape on its mouth, don't worry too much- it's safe for the gator (most of the time) and it's safe for you!

Here's a couple of safe tape options, modeled by a juvenile American alligator in pink electrical tape (I forget her name, these are from an outreach event a couple of years ago) and Pagasa, a juvenile Philippine crocodile wearing the white medical tape.

So when is tape not safe? When it's the wrong kind of tape. One of the worst offenders is duct tape.

When you're banding an alligator, you need to think about how sensitive their jaws are. A band that's too tight or too sticky can hurt them badly when it's removed- and you want that removal process to be fast, so that it doesn't stress them out too much.

What inspired this post was this picture I saw on Facebook:

That's so much duct tape! Now, this little guy is quite unhealthy; he's been loose in the Pittsburgh area all winter, and he's been struggling. What you see here is a very quick tape job done as he's getting ready for transport. The article didn't say who taped him, but given that he's in a dog crate and was found by bicyclists, I would wager that it was some harried animal control officer who was doing the best they could. And that's fine because this was truly an emergency situation. In an emergency situation, uncomfortable is always, always better than unsafe.

But if you see a tourist attraction and they've put duct tape on their alligator's mouth? That's a red flag! Banding an alligator in public is the safe, correct thing to do- you just want to make sure that it's done right.

If you want more information about alligator jaws, here's some interesting papers to read:

Erickson, Gregory et al. Insights into the Ecology and Evolutionary Success of Crocodilians Revealed through Bite-Force and Tooth-Pressure Experimentation. PLoS ONE 7(3): e31781.

Knight, Kathryn. Croc Jaws More Sensitive Than Human Fingertips. Journal of Experimental Biology (2012) 215.

Sellers et al. Ontogeny of bite force in a validated biomechanical model of the American alligator. Journal of Experimental Biology (2017), 220.

[nerdofspades]

Bruce looked at the pop-up on the Batcomputer's screen.

"Explain," he growled, glancing down at Tim.

"Not much to explain," Tim answered, pulling up lines of code. "It showed up ten seconds ago."

"I'm starting a full diagnostic," Barbara said, voice filtering through the speakers. "So far, I'm not seeing anything."

"And yet..." Time trailed off glancing at the window again. It had a video queued up to play and the words "IMPORTANT: PLEASE WATCH. DO NOT DELETE" in large text at the top.

"There's a new folder labeled 'a gift for Batman,'" Tim said. "Not something any of us made."

"Clearly."

"I'm still not finding any viruses, corrupted files, or spyware," Oracle said. "The new folder was programmed to stay in a hidden partition for a few days after it was placed. Then, obviously, the pop-up to catch our attention."

"Folder also has a text file named 'security notes,'" Tim said. "Maybe our new hacker is friendly?"

"It's starting to look like it," Oracle agreed. "The video is clean. It should be safe to watch."

Bruce sighed. "Then let's see what they've got for us."

-

The video opened with a dark room. The background hidden in shadows, while the foreground was well lit, letting them clearly see the tired teen in the center of the frame as he took a heavy swig from his mug before putting it down.

"Pulling up facial recognition."

He ran a hand through his messy black hair and then down his face, pinching his nose and hiding the bags under his blues eyes for a moment before he dropped his hand and finally looked at the camera.

"I really don't want to do this," he said, "but you need it." He glanced longingly off screen in the direction of the mug he'd put down.

"First of all, I think I should apologize for hacking you. Or asking my friend to, technically. I just. You need to know about this and I didn't know of another way to get it to you that would be secure.

"I did at least make him promise to make a record of how he got in so you can patch that.

"That out of the way... to business? I'm Danny Fenton, for the last year or so I have also been the hero Phantom in Amity Park. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton. They are ectobiologists and ghost hunters. While extremely biased and not actually that good at catching ghosts, their tech is easily the best in the business."

"That's a positive match."

"Running a search on Phantom."

"I- fucking shit." Danny put his head in his hands again, running them back through his hair before leaning back, almost collapsing into the chair.

"This kid has... gotten into some shit."

"Everyone knows you're the League's strategist, Batman. And. I'm strong enough. I can handle my problems, that's not what I'm worried about.

"It's been about a year and I've already been mind controlled once." Danny laughed. A dry, broken, almost desperate laugh. "And that was just some lowlife that wanted to rob jewelry stores. I'm still not worried about. It's not why I'm sending you this. The magic relic he used is broken and gone now."

"Well that explains one of his problems."

"The others?"

"An attempted kidnapping and fairly standard property damage. I want to see some footage of those fights before passing judgement."

"Even more standard given he doesn't seem to have a mentor. Batman, he was fourteen."

"No. I. I've seen a version of the future. One where I go mad. Where I snap. And the Justice League can't stop me.

"I don't know if I- he kills everyone. I don't know who, if anyone, makes it out. But it's not anyone that could really do much. I... I saw ten years after he- I snapped. Earth was little more than rubble and ash. Only one city was left holding out and it was about to fall- was falling when I got there.

"I've managed to change the time line. What broke him didn't happen here. But. I can't guarantee nothing ever could.

"So. Yeah. Next best thing is making sure you're prepared. All my powers. All my weaknesses. Everything I know of that could possibly hurt me. Schematics and blue prints for anything you could need to fight me, track me, keep me out, keep me contained. All nice and giftwrapped for your convenience.

"Uh... that's everything. Why is it always so awkward to end a video? Hopefully we never see each other? I guess? Pretty sure us actually meeting is gonna be a bad sign.

"You know what. I'm gonna turn this thing off now before I say something stupid."

-

"Batman, who's 'Phantom'?" Superman asked, glancing up from the Watchtower computer he was working at. "Aren't we supposed to vote on new members?"

Batman grunted. "He's not a member, just someone who understands the need for contingencies."

"You know what, I'm not gonna even ask."

"Probably for the best."

[ship-graveyard]

Traveling with P1Harmony 💕

🛫 - Air Travel Edition - 🛬

☁️ - fluff | 🌙 - gn!reader | 💞 - all members

note: occasional references to travel anxiety

———————————————————————

Keeho:

♡ - always makes it to the airport perfectly on time (no getting bored or stressing because he’s timed everything perfectly)

♡ - incredible at navigating crowds and fighting to keep your place in lines for security, boarding, and deplaning

♡ - idk how but the airline always loses his luggage

♡ - you need a break from the airport chaos? dw his arms are your safe haven and he’s got a hug already queued up for you

♡ - will take the middle seat for you if you’ve been assigned it BUT he will whine about it later (good news: you can just kiss his pout off his lips and he’ll forgive you)

♡ - want help lifting your luggage into an overhead bin? luckily your big strong boyfriend is here to help! (he will accidentally smack someone in the face with it when taking it back down but shhh he’s trying)

♡ - bothers you 24/7 on the plane, but he means well… he just can’t help it bc he wants to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible (ooh what are you watching?? are you hungry? thirsty?? he could definitely steal water from someone in first class, would that help?)

♡ - wants you to sleep on his shoulder SO bad. he’ll be slowly leaning into your space if you start to nod off until you get the hint

———————————————————————

Theo:

♡ - lets you completely melt into him if you want to sleep while waiting for boarding (just results in the sleepiest pile of limbs bc he’s probably out immediately too)

♡ - overpacks… why does he have 14 hats when he only ever wears one? why did he pack a toaster in his carry-on?? the world will never know

♡ - has 7 different beverages with him at all times

♡ - more likely to distract you and redirect your energy than directly comfort you if you get travel anxiety, but it still helps significantly just knowing he’s aware of it and by your side if you need anything at all

♡ - he’s going to fight you for claim of the armrest and not in a cute way

♡ - will smack you if you turn the overhead light on (if you really want to read/draw or do anything else that you need to see clearly, he MIGHT let you turn the light on if you ask nicely and/or sweet talk him)

♡ - spends half the flight judging the people who brought their children on the plane

♡ - will get hopelessly invested in whatever you’re doing/watching but pretends not to be whenever you catch him leaning over to see better

———————————————————————

Jiung:

♡ - brings an extra sweatshirt/jacket for you bc he knows you’ll forget your own, get cold, or need the comfort

♡ - takes care of everything that might be stressful for you. you’re nervous? dw he’s got your printed boarding passes ready and your luggage handled. you just need to show up and hold his hand

♡ - does a mental analysis of the best quality airport cuisine compared to affordability bc you deserve to be well-fed and pampered but he’s also really practical

♡ - surprise kisses as positive reinforcement when you remember to hydrate

♡ - zonks out on the plane. he’s been busy taking care of you, let the poor guy drool on your shoulder a bit

♡ - type of person to watch the flight tracker the entire way there

♡ - if you accidentally intrude on his foot space be prepared for the most intense high-stakes game of footsie you’ve ever been involved in (he’ll win but end up just pulling your legs onto his lap bc he feels a bit guilty and he loves you too much)

———————————————————————

Intak:

♡ - loses his boarding pass immediately (you better have backups)

♡ - will get lost in the airport if you let him out of your sight

♡ - lets you buy anything you want with his card (he just wants to trail along and hang off your arm and spend time with you)… puppyboy IM SORRY who said that

♡ - leans his entire weight on you when waiting to board bc he’s tired and he loves you and you’re right there

♡ - underpacks. it’s always “babe can i borrow your toothbrush? i forgot mine😔” and “one pair of pants is probably enough for the whole week, right?”

♡ - you’ll have to be the responsible one tbh but he’s always right there if you need anything and he’d step up in an instant if you asked him to. it’s only bc he feels so comfortable with you that he lets himself relax so much and truly be himself, so he’s eternally grateful that you look out for him when he needs it

♡ - asks to be involved in whatever you choose to do on the plane bc he wants to spend that time with you

♡ - if you have trouble speaking up, he’d happily do it for you. need accommodations?need to ask someone to move so you can go to the bathroom? he’s got you

———————————————————————

Soul:

♡ - gets pulled over at security for something really bizarre (a cool rock he found that makes it look like he’s smuggling drugs, a jar of loose coins of various types, the creepiest figurine imaginable that he decided was cute, etc, etc)

♡ - might need your help with translating some things depending on where you’re flying out of/to (he could probably figure it all out on his own, but he likes being able to rely on you so he doesn’t have to channel all of his energy into making himself understood)

♡ - traveling exhausts him tbh but hugs and spontaneous kisses help him recharge!

♡ - equally likely to distract you from nerves by starting fun conversations or reaching out and reassuring you with physical affection

♡ - hoards the little snacks they give out on the airplane and offers them to you as surprise gifts later

♡ - watches everyone else’s screen on the plane instead of his own lol (he’s invested in the movie two rows up leave him be)

♡ - wants to try to learn a few phrases of the local language on the plane if you’re traveling somewhere with a native language he doesn’t speak

♡ - if you fall asleep on the plane expect to have random braids in your hair when you wake up (it’s not his fault that he wanted something to do with his hands and in his defense he finds you absolutely adorable with them. esp finds it endearing if you leave them in bc that’s his handiwork you’re showcasing)

———————————————————————

Jongseob:

♡ - might share some of your travel anxiety, but instead of making him distant it just makes him more invested in getting you both there safely and being conscious of your needs. you can be certain that he’s done his research, and you’ll always be safe and taken care of when he’s by your side

♡ - the most difficult part of flying with him is getting him to wake up early tbh. he’ll be slumped against you in a half-successful back hug while you scan the departures board for your gate bc he’s still half asleep

♡ - effortlessly cool and fashionable even with messy hair and comfortable clothes

♡ - soft kisses to your temple and warm hands brushing against yours when he wants to get your attention

♡ - wants to switch off picking songs to listen to on the plane (or listen to a combined playlist of each of your interests) with shared earbuds bc he thinks it’s an important way to share your interests and emotions with each other

♡ - before you even ask he’s handing you a Nintendo switch controller and encouraging you to play something with him (dw he finds you adorable no matter if you’re terrible at it or if you kick his ass when it comes to gaming)

♡ - prefers pushing the armrest up so you can lean into each other and just be close (he isn’t super cuddly/touchy in public, but he enjoys the casual proximity. and sometimes the urge to dote on you is too strong to be contained)

♡ - not really the type of person to speak up and ask the flight crew if he needs something, but the second you need something he’s on his feet and advocating for you

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 5- Party O’ Clock ☕️

As you, Hu Tao, and Ayaka were done getting ready, you all piled up in the Kamisato family car. Which happens to be a Rolls Royce. These damn rich people and their fancy cars.

Ayato, Ayaka’s brother, was designated driver. Ayaka has yet to acquire her license.

“Damn girl!” Hu Tao looked around the car with amazement, “If you would’ve told me you had one of these I would have been coming over every day.”

Ayaka only giggled. You felt like an actual celebrity in this car. Not like you aren’t one, it just never hit you till now. You’re going to one of the biggest parties in the entertainment industry that was kept on the low from the public.

It all felt so surreal. As you were having this realization, Ayaka handed her phone to you to play some music. You stared at her phone trying to come up with something to play.

A moment passes and still being indecisive, you handed the phone to Hu Tao. You can be aux in someone’s car another day.

Hu Tao was always good at aux. She selected Sundress by Asap Rocky first. Hu Tao then queued up a few more songs before handing the phone back to Ayaka.

The car ride was mostly filled with Ayaka and Hu Tao talking. You or Ayato would sometimes chime in. Usually you’re a yapper, however, you had this sense of dread in you.

You didn’t know what it was. Was it because it was your first time going to one of these things? Or was it because you knew you were going to have to encounter the one person you wish you wouldn’t have to see after high school.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the car had stopped. It was only when Hu Tao tapped your shoulder that you realized you had arrived.

You stepped out of the car and got a good look at the place. A giant manor appeared in front of you. A beautiful fountain made out of marble centered in the middle. Greenery hugged the perimeter. How was THIS kept from the public? Furina must’ve used your Espresso money to pay for all this.

Honesty, it felt like you didn’t belong here.

Hu Tao grabbed your hand and led you inside. A lot of high end celebrities were here. Some of them you were a big fan of. Nonetheless, this wasn’t the place to be asking them for pictures. In the corner you spotted Lyney, Lynette, and Mona who were all at the bar.

“There you guys are!” Mona exclaimed.

She hugged you, Hu Tao, and Ayaka.

“Can we take some shots already??” Hu Tao questioned.

She was very eager to get wasted. Ironic because she was telling you not to a few days ago.

The bartender poured everyone a shot of Soju.

Then another.

Another.

One more.

Now you, Hu Tao, Lyney, and Mona were all four shots deep. Lynette doesn’t drink and Ayaka only had one since she’s a lightweight. You could handle a few more but you didn’t want to get blackout hammered. Hu Tao’s warning was still in the back of your mind. You only picked up a White Claw to be drinking throughout the night.

You left your friends at the bar and decided to explore on your own. That was, until you noticed a familiar orange hair in the distance.

It seemed to notice you to.

“Holy shit! Is that Y/n?” It was Childe. Who appeared to be very drunk already.

“Holy shit! Is that my prom mosh pit buddy?” You responded. He couldn’t help but laugh.

During your senior prom you spent the entire time in the dance circle/mosh pit with Childe. It was fun but very unexpected.

You and Childe exchanged a reunion hug. He smelled of alcohol and sweat.

“Dude how many shots have you taken?” You begin to ask. It was a bit concerning he was already fucked up this early.

“Uhh only like 7??” Childe chuckled. His speech slurring a bit.

“What the fuck?” It impressed you.

“How have you been though? We barely spoke at the grad party. Your new song is honestly really good.” Childe commented on. He was always nice to you. Never had any malicious intent, which was surprising considering who his friends are.

You hesitated before responding, “I’ve been good. I barely saw you at the party that was my bad! I liked your movie with Lumine. Anyone but You right?”

“Thank you! I had a fun time filming it. I didn’t know you watched my movies.” Childe simply responded. He always had a flirty tone whenever he talked to people.

Childe then pulled out a geek bar and took a hit. The smell of candy filled the air. He then offered it to you.

You stared at it for a moment. Fuck it. You took a hit of the blowpop flavored vape. Of course you inhaled wrong and began coughing up a storm. Childe started laughing his ass off.

“This is why I hate nic. Fucking fein.” You barely formed the sentence. Hacking and coughing up your lungs. You took a sip of your White Claw to bring back moisture to your throat.

“Y/n, you good?” Childe asked while continuing to laugh.

Before you could even respond, he was whisked away by Venti. You both said your goodbyes and you were on your own once again.

Sipping your White Claw you began to feel a little tipsy, so you decide to sit down somewhere. You always underestimate alcohol. As soon as you sat down, it felt like the whole world was spinning. You felt dizzy but in a good way. It felt good to be drunk.

It took you a minute to notice someone was next to you, until you smelled a joint being sparked up. Obviously you turned to the source of the smell.

It was none other than Xiao and the singer Albedo from Mondstadt Entertainment. How did they know each other? Who knows. Albedo was the first one to notice you though.

“Hello. Aren’t you Y/n?” He questioned.

You got a little shy. It was weird to have one of your favorite artists know your existence. Damn. No more parasocial relationships for you.

Xiao responded for you, “They’re the one who has a twitter feud with Scaramouche.”

“You didn’t have to tell him all that.” You responded with embarrassment. It was true though, currently you’re trending for fighting with the most popular person under Inazuma Entertainment.

“Shits funny though. We always laugh about it in the group chat.” Xiao mentioned as he took a hit from the joint.

They talk about you in the Inazuma group chat?

“Oh so am I like a household name there?” You joked. You were always intimidated by him. Xiao always looks so mad. However, the alcohol is making your fears go away.

“Yeah kinda. By the way, do you smoke?” Xiao asked nonchalantly, his body shifted to look at you. It felt like his eyes were piercing through your soul.

This caught you off guard, “I sometimes do when I have stuff.”

Xiao then handed you the joint and you took a long hit. You didn’t cough this time. If you were being honest, you preferred weed over nicotine, It doesn’t smell as great but it also doesn’t make you feel sick.

You passed it to Albedo, who took a long inhale. This could be seen as a dream blunt rotation or a nightmare blunt rotation. However, it wasn’t until the end where you felt the weed hit. Mix with the alcohol, you began to feel crossed. You began to feel so giggly and everything moved so slow.

You turned to the both of them, “What the hell was in this?”

“Don’t worry it’s not laced. It’s just weed imported from Snezhnaya. My plug is from there.” Albedo reassured you.

“You have a plug?” Your question came out more of a surprise than you have intended.

“Yes. He’s the best. Here let me give you my number so we can smoke again. Xiao give them yours too.” Albedo grabbed your phone from you to type in his number. Xiao then grabbed the phone from Albedo and typed in his number as well.

You felt proud of yourself for scoring two hot guy’s numbers. Were you actually going to text them? Who knows!

The more you sat down, the more you realized how stuffy and hot the place was becoming. You excused yourself and went out onto the balcony to get some fresh air.

The cold air stung as you had exited the warm party. It quickly felt nice though. As you hung your head over the balcony, you heard footsteps approaching behind you.

Turning around, you saw the person you wanted to avoid the most tonight. Scara fucking mouche.

As you guys made eye contact he scoffed and looked away. He looked the same as ever. Fortunately, still good looking. Unfortunately, still short.

There was a bit of awkward silence before you began to spoke.

“Can’t you see I was here first?” Alcohol makes you appear more bolder.

“How fucking drunk are you?” Scara asked in a harsh tone. “And are you high too? You smell like weed.”

“That’s none of your business.” You retorted.

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t change do you?”

He walked next to you on the balcony. There was still a decent amount of space between you guys. You glanced over to him. Scara’s hair looks grown out but still healthy, despite often dying it purple. His violet eyes were looking out into the outside portion of the party. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’d be someone who’s the opposite of what he actually is.

Scara then took out a pack of cigarettes and began lighting one. You stared at it hoping he’d offer it to you. You love smoking cigs when drunk. For someone who sings, you sure do smoke a lot.

“You’re not sharing this with me.” Scara said plainly. Not even glancing at you.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You looked away from him. The cool air felt pleasant against your skin. You could hear the music blaring from the inside and the people mingling down below. It was better than any other party you had attended.

There was another long silence between you guys. It didn’t feel awkward anymore. It was more nostalgic and comforting than anything. So you began to talk once again.

“Do you still talk to Aether or Kazuha?” The question always lingered in your mind. Those were some of the mutual friends you guys had shared. You haven’t spoken to either of them since graduation.

“Yes, sometimes” Scara responded in a monotone voice. He didn’t seem interested to talk to you. You didn’t care though.

There was yet again another long silence. This time, he stuck out his hand to you. Offering the cigarette.

“Take it before I change my mind.” He mumbled.

You took the cigarette from his hand, now sharing it with him. You were too out of it to notice the bitter taste. Perhaps, it was the liquor masking the true taste of the cigarette. Perhaps, it was the liquor that was the real reason you were feeling more bold to ask this certain question. One that has been lingering in your mind the longest. The question you were worried about the answer the most.

“Did you ever like talking to me?”

The question shifted the tension in the air.

Scara was calculating his response. The longer he took to respond, the more anxious you felt.

“You were a nice friend to talk to.” He finally answered.

The answer disappointed you.

Just a friend? Seriously? After all those nights on facetime, him listening to you rant, him getting upset when you took too long to respond, him sending you over 20 tiktoks a day, him recommending you songs or movies, and him getting jealous over random guys. That was just him being a friend?

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You snapped at him. You turned your body to face his.

“What??” Scara retorted, barely glancing in your direction.

“If I was just a friend then why were you so ashamed of me? Why did you never tell anyone we would talk on the daily?” You began to press into him.

“You never told anyone either! You barely even told Hu Tao.” Scara argued back, finally facing you.

“And you only told Childe! I didn’t know what we were. You always seemed embarrassed to talk to me at school. We rarely hung out outside of school. And you let your friends harass me.” Your feelings from the past year gushed out of you. You weren’t holding back.

“Yeah you’re right. I was embarrassed of you. Everyone at school made fun of you because you were a trainee. Your personality made it unbearable and that’s why you only had a few friends. Anyone associated with you was questioned and also made fun of. I at least wanted to keep my connections.” Scara’s words felt like a knife to the heart.

Deep down, you knew that most people around you felt like you were a burden for pursuing your idol dreams. Everytime you would apologize for flaking because you were practicing, how you would talk about what happened at practice, and how hard you tried to fit in. It never seemed good enough for people. You tried your best being friendly but people often thought you were fake. It just hurt coming from someone you thought cared about you.

“You seriously considered how people felt? I thought you didn’t care what people thought about you. I thought you were different.” Your voice cracked as you tried to hold back tears.

“It’s different when it came to you. You were the joke of the grade. You may have had some friends but did you ever wonder what people thought of them? For being associated with you?” His questions grilled into you like an interrogation.

Your friends always comforted you. Not once did they ever mention their image getting tarnished. Sure they would sometimes get teased for even speaking to you, but they never seemed to care. Right?

“Then what about Childe?” You finally argued back, “He was always nice to me. I don’t recall anyone teasing him for texting or speaking to me.”

“That’s because he’s respected enough. No one dared to bully him or even say anything to him about his friends.” Scara replied nonchalantly.

It was irritating to see him not care about how his words would affect you. You had enough.

“Whatever. Fuck you and fuck your friend group. You never deserved me or everything I did for you, you little ungrateful cunt. You’re dead to me.“ Those were your final words to him before storming off. All the emotions began to pour out of you as you began to walk away.

As Scara saw you walk off, he turned back to face the night sky. “What a dramatic bitch.” He muttered before finally finishing the cigarette you two had shared. As he threw it on the ground, he felt a sort of guilt. Did he really need to tell you all that?

Whatever.

You deserved to know.

Scara looked around at the people in attendance. He then noticed something in the corner of his eye. Someone was throwing up in a bush. Someone familiar….for fucks sake it’s Venti. Kokomi at his side comforting him. Scara groaned not believing what he is seeing. He walked back into the party so he could help his somewhat friend.

Meanwhile, you were trying your best to find your friends. You wanted to leave this party asap. You dialed Ayaka’s number and luckily she picked up. They were by the snack table. You hurriedly met up with them.

When you got there, Lyney, Mona, and Hu Tao were wasted out of their minds. It was an amusing sight.

What wasn’t an amusing sight, was you visibly shaken up. Naturally, it didn’t take long before they noticed.

“Hey Y/n are you alright?” Lynette asked. She always had a keen eye for people’s body language.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I ran into Scaramouche and we had this giant argument.” You hesitated in answering. Nervous on how the others might react.

“YOU WHAT? NAH where is he?! Lemme go beat his ass!” Hu Tao tried standing up but she fell on top of Lyney.

“Get your fat ass off of me!” Lyney slurred.

“Y/n do you want to leave? We were about to head out right now and text you.” Ayaka mentioned.

You nodded. This party was fun until you had a run in with him.

“Lynette, do you and the others want to sleepover at my place with us?” Ayaka offered.

Lynette glanced over at Lyney and Mona, who were fighting over the last cookie. She then looked at Ayaka and nodded.

Lynette, Lyney, and Mona got into Lynette’s car meanwhile you, Hu Tao, Ayaka, and Ayato got into the car you arrived in. The car ride was silent. You were still drunk and angry at what had happened earlier so you whipped out your phone to send a few texts.

You closed your eyes for the remainder of the car ride. When you opened them, had finally arrived to the Kamisato Estate. It’s as big inside as it is outside.

Ayaka showed you all to your rooms and you all began to unwind for the night. You immediately collapsed onto the bed. The world still spinning around you and memories from the party flood your brain. You tried your best to repress those thoughts and fall asleep.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Chapter 5 done!! This is my first written chapter so I apologize if it’s really long. I was too lazy to split it up into two parts. (That’s pretty much why I lowk rushed the ending) I know this chapter was a bit dramatic but I lowk had a fun time writing it. This isn’t even all the lore between Scara and Y/n 🤫 Also let’s pretend the Kamisato Estate is close to where the party is being held 💔 I’m bad at geography.

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @veekoko @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3

[irisintheafterglow]

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

summary: a creep walks up to the shake stand window. your favorite customer scares him off. (college au!iwaizumi x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: college!au iwaizumi, creepy dude but he gets scared off don't worry, buff iwa gets nervous around you

note: so there's a protein shake stand like right outside my school's gym and that's where the inspiration for this little brain fart came from. also this is wholeheartedly dedicated to @shotorus my favorite iwa simp. i really hope you like this, it's my first time writing for your man but it most definitely will not be the last :D

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <3

You didn’t anticipate finding a gym crush outside of the student rec center. Yet, there he was, every day at 5:00 passing the stand and every day at 6:30 ordering his usual, strawberries and bananas with chocolate protein powder. It’s a wonder how strictly he stuck to his schedule and you made it a point to have his order queued up in the system by the time he got to the window. To your detriment, it seemed that your infatuation had become obvious enough to your usually-oblivious coworkers. 

“At this point, I think you took this job just to ogle him,” one of your friends points out as she runs a colander of fruit under the faucet. You give her a lighthearted glare and she flicks a few water droplets at you. “I’d guess you like seeing him more than the tips that other guys put in the jar. You really do so much for this company,” she says patronizingly and you roll your eyes. She had a point; you tended not to notice the phone numbers written on dirty napkins or social media handles hastily drawn on dollar bills. None of them interested you. None of them, except for the dude with a body like a Greek hero that made you want to get kidnapped by some mythological being. 

“I just think he has a nice physique; is that such a bad thing?” She shoots you a skeptical look and you turn away sheepishly to check the clock. Thirty seconds to 6:30. “He should be here in a little bit,” you say quietly to yourself, hoping she doesn’t hear. It’s a nice sentiment, but ultimately futile. 

“You’re counting down the seconds? Man, you’re worse than I thought.” She pats your shoulder sympathetically as she passes behind you and you lean your hands on the register counter. 

“As if you’ve never had a gym crush before,” you fire back. 

“You’re supposed to actually be inside the gym to have a gym crush,” she reminds you and you groan. “Why don’t you just switch your shift so you can see him while you workout?”

“I tutor before this, remember? Plus, I need to be able to charm the evening regulars so I can keep paying rent,” you admit. She nods in understanding and a glance at the clock shows ten seconds until 6:30. Your other usuals had come and gone for the day: the guy in the blue tank top that only seemed to work his forearms and biceps, the girl with the silly socks that had the most muscular calves you’d ever seen, the two frat bros with their backwards caps and arrogant voices. It hits 6:30, however, and your favorite regular isn’t behind the glass. He isn’t anywhere around, you realize. You can’t help the frown that draws the corner of your mouth down and, when you look to your coworker for support, she merely shrugs before grabbing a tub of powder from the top shelf. “It’s odd that he isn’t here yet.”

“Only you would think that,” she teases and you refocus on pulling up his usual order on the payment screen. “Maybe he got sick. There’s that frat flu going around right now.”

“Why would he be in a frat, though? And also, he’s definitely the type to wipe the hell out of every machine he uses.”

“If he uses machines; personally, he strikes me as a free weights-only kind of guy.” Before you can reply, a knock on the glass startles you back into customer-service mode. The man in front of you looked relatively normal, but the way his eyes looked you up and down several times made your stomach queasy. It wasn’t the first time creeps had checked you out through the window, but maybe you were feeling a little extra vulnerable waiting around for a regular who didn’t even know your name. Avoiding the man’s intrusive gaze, you shakily pull up his order, swipe his card for payment, and let him know that his shake would be ready soon. 

“I have a question,” he says slowly before you can run and hide in the back. “What time are you out of here?”

“I’m not done for a while,” you state vaguely, praying that he wouldn’t ask about the remaining two and a half hours of your shift. “I work until closing.”

“I can come back and get you when you close.” His voice makes your skin crawl and his eyes feel like knives on your body.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me take you out to dinner. A nice looking person like you shouldn’t be alone at night.” Your heart drops into your stomach and your feet remain rooted to the floor, terrified in place. Was he gonna try to do something after you were off?

“Look, I’m not interested in any–”

“Hey, man. Are you done ordering yet? You’re holding up the line,” intrudes a voice that feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders. Somewhere between his usual order time and the creep asking you out, your favorite little crush came to stand in line to pay. His shoulders seemed extra broad today and the muscle of his biceps flexed under his compression shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring daggers down at the guy who was freaking you out. He’d never looked so handsome, all sharp jawline and flexed muscles and piercing eyes. The creep recoils and scurries away, allowing you to take a deep breath that helps relieve some of the tension in your forehead. By pure muscle memory and running on adrenaline, your fingers swipe over the tablet and pull up his usual order before he can even say hello. 

“Strawberry and banana with chocolate protein powder, right?”

“Yeah, that…that’s mine,” he says, slightly taken aback by the lingering expression of panic on your face. While he eyes you warily, you swipe his card and hand him his receipt, suddenly desperate to just disappear into the back for the rest of your shift. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? No, yeah. I’m fine, totally fine,” you lie and give him a weak smile. His eyebrows furrow slightly and you can feel him try to analyze you, but not in the dehumanizing way as your previous customer. His eyes searched your expression worriedly and you caught him biting skin from his lip in concern. “It’s just that the guy before you was being a little weird.” Calling him “weird” was an understatement, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him more than you already have. “I’m fine, really.” He watches you for a moment more and then nods, murmuring a thank you under his breath and finding a spot to wait for his shake. 

“This fell on the floor by the trash can,” he says plainly when he walks up to the pickup window after you call out his drink. The creepy guy hadn’t left the area yet, so your fight or flight instincts were still going haywire. Your gym crush, however, momentarily takes your attention by subtly sliding a dirty piece of paper across the counter to you as he picks up his cup with the other hand. “Thanks; I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can blink, he’s gone, leaving you with a cryptic folded message that makes your head spin. You sputter out an awkward farewell and hastily unfold the piece of paper. 

I’ll be studying in the computer lab until the stand closes. If he’s still bothering you, come find me and I’ll walk you to your car or your dorm or wherever. -Iwaizumi Hajime 

A sturdy rectangle of plastic falls from the paper and you stare at it in disbelief. It was an ID card for the university’s after-hours patrol division with his picture, full name, and student number printed on it. Iwaizumi, you echo mentally, you’re too good to be true. And, true to his promise, he’s a respectful distance away and stands with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants at 9:00 when you lock up the shake stand. You’d lost sight of the creep an hour after Iwaizumi picked up his drink, but the paranoia didn’t leave your body and you’re only able to relax when he approaches you. 

“This is yours,” you say, handing him his ID card with a small smile. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” he replies regretfully, uncomfortably adjusting his water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. “None of the guys at the gym like him. He’s always hitting on girls and giving them weird looks.” 

“Looks like he was forced to look outside the gym, then,” you laugh lightly, feeling the tension release from your shoulders as you walk next to Iwaizumi in the direction of the parking lot. “Did your drink still taste okay? Or did my nervousness make it taste funny?” When he chuckles, it sounds like sunshine. 

“It was just as tasty as it always is, thank you. You’ve really figured out how to make me the perfect drink every time.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” you say without hesitation and your face feels like it’s been lit on fire. To your surprise, however, it seemed that Iwaizumi was just as flustered by your words. His eyes widen and his pretty mouth gapes a little bit, blinking rapidly to fix the short circuit in his brain. “I just hope he doesn’t come around here again. He makes my stomach churn.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he forces out and he’s silent for a while until your car is in sight. “Hey, sorry if this is super off-base, but do you wanna workout with me sometime? I can change the time I go but, if it means you don’t feel scared by that guy anymore, I’ll gladly rearrange my schedule.” 

“You want me to workout with you?”

“I’d like to meet you for lunch sometime, too, but I figured I’d start with baby steps,” he admits, running a hand nervously through his hair while you fish your keys from your bag. “If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, I’d love to,” you reassure him and he looks visibly relieved. “I’ll change up my shift so you can still go around the same time you usually do, and I can just meet you outside. I’ve been needing a new spotter since mine picked up extra shifts in the library.” 

“Great, yeah, awesome,” he says, a little dumbfounded by how eagerly you would give him a chance. If he was being honest, he’d wanted to ask you your name for months since you memorized his order, but he didn’t want to come off as pushy and ruin his chance with you. “Do you, uh, mind if I give you my number? Or I can give you a social media handle too if you’re not comfortable sharing your number.” God, he’s so good. He is so, so good. “Can you let me know you get home safe?”

“I will,” you promise. “Thank you for everything, Iwaizumi.”

“You can call me Hajime, if you want,” he offers softly and the fondness in his voice makes your heart flip. “Iwaizumi is fine too. Anything is fine.” 

“Right,” you smile. “Well, goodnight, Hajime. Get home safe.”

“You too. Talk soon, okay?”

“I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[moonlightspencie]

Taking your Marauder Boyfriend (writer's choice) home to meet your muggle parents?

YAY. this is so cute (will be james because he was #1 on my poll teehee)

james potter x gn!reader

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

"So... am I not allowed to use magic at all?"

You quirked a brow, looking at your boyfriend. James tended to be a little dramatic, but asking this question for the hundredth time as you were on your parents' porch was a bit much.

"You can handle not whipping out your wand for two days," you replied.

He smirked. "Which one? Either way that might be hard for me."

"Ew! Shut up," you whispered loudly.

"What?" he laughed. "They can't hear me."

You groaned. "No wand, no sex, no... just be normal, babe. I am begging."

"Fine," he pouted, reaching for your hand. "They know you're magical, I don't see why I can't just⎼"

"It freaks them out, babe."

"That's silly."

"You're silly."

He smiled a little, dropping his head on top of yours. You shook your head a bit, then straightened up as your mom came to the door.

"Hi, honey!" she beamed, reaching for you.

You let her give you a tight hug, then stepped back and grabbed James's hand again.

"Mom... this is James," you smiled.

"Nice to meet you," he said to your mom, giving her a shy smile.

"Nice to meet you, too, dear. Come in, come in!" she exclaimed, taking a step back to let you in the house. "Dad and I have been so excited for you two to come home."

You laugh. "Yeah?"

"Of course. You know how much we miss you when you're away."

"I know, mom. But I can't exactly do my whole magical thing when I'm here."

She shivers, her dramatics not far off from James's. If that behavior was any indicator, they'd get along just fine.

"Still freaky. I can't believe you can just... hm," she chuckles a little nervously. She was always a bit weird about magic. She glanced at James. "And you're able to do all of that too, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am," James nodded quickly. "But fear not, I was already debriefed not to do any magic while we're here."

"Well, good. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, dear."

"It's okay," he smiled brightly, squeezing your hand lightly.

And all was going well, too, until your mom insisted on showing James their new home theater in your old bedroom. It wasn't terribly showy, but they had a huge television and some comfortable chairs. You hadn't taken into consideration, though, that James wasn't exactly attuned to muggle appliances and technology.

"Whoa," his eyes went wide as your father showed him around the room. "And you all think magic is strange?"

"Babe," you say with wide eyes.

Your dad laughs, patting your arm. "Its, okay, sweetheart. You... you really don't have television?"

You shake your head. "Not usually. I got us a small one for our apartment, but... nothing like this."

"Now this is magic," James mumbles as your mom starts queuing up the movie. He glances back at you. "You sure I can't do a little?"

"No, love..."

"Can you make popcorn with a wand?" your dad teases.

"Yeah," James answers honestly.

Your dad quirks a brow, speaking quietly. "As soon as mom isn't looking..."

James laughs happily, squeezing your hand tightly.

"Knew they'd love me," he mutters to you smugly, though not without humor.

"We've still got a whole weekend, babe," you remind him.

"It'll be a breeze. Who could resist my charm?" He winks.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Overtime overture - Richie Jerimovich x reader

Carmen Berzatto was a fucking dumbass. Okay, let’s rewind and put our customer service attitude on. Carmy was running this whole place by himself. That came with changes, wild cards. Syd’s stage was one. Your starting as a rookie part-time waitress was another. Everyone else knew their schedules by heart. And they had the common sense to remind your boss when they were supposed to end a shift. Not you though. That’s how you ended up working a few hours overtime in the biggest rush you’d ever seen. Alongside the man you had a massive work crush on.

So, how did you get there? You started your regular shift at 14, barely avoiding the lunch time rush. Still, the place was a bit more lively than usual. So Carmy did the logical thing. Forsake training you on a new station and gave you the work you were familiar with. Which was precisely the register with Richie. There was only 1 problem - you had no knowledge on how to enter the orders. So you did the rest while your coworker was busy. Between arranging plates, walking to tables and cleaning trays, you were too. Even in the quiet moments you tried to slip away, making drinks and getting the lobby more pristine. Yet there were still moments where you were too tired to even do anything except stand. Then Riche talked to you about college. You asked about his kid. Safe, work friendly topics. You cringed as you remembered how he had scolded you and Syd for talking about your exes last week, making you prepare for closing instead. That didn’t even top your most embarrassing moment. When Carm dismissed you with a ‘’bye bye, mai thai’’, you blurted out ’mai thai, that’s what got me to lose my virginity’ before thinking. Your boss barely registered what you said, while Richie doubled over in a hyena-like laughter. You were so done with everything that you didn’t even care until later. By the time you got home, you were so mortified that you considered just quitting tomorrow. Luckily no one made any references and you kept your paycheck. 

Little by little, the hours trickled by. It was finally 22, time for you to go home. You looked at Carmy, who glanced down at the schedule and continued giving orders to the kitchen. You waited a bit more, I mean a couple of minutes wouldn't kill you.  And it would help your already dwindling bank account. Plus, who even came to the restaurant this close to closing?Festival goers, that’s who. Apparently there was a big music event happening and the restaurant’s hours were different. And all of your coworkers but you knew about it. Which would make sense, since you weren’t working closing, they were. But little by little you were getting nearer to that. And there was no way in hell you were working a 12 hour shift, walking home and  then showing up again tomorrow. Yet, Richie was working so hard, already overwhelmed, even with your help. So you couldn’t just leave him to handle all these people and their orders. Seriously, they were in and out, as soon as you handed one takeaway bag, another person queued up. Richie could see you starting to struggle. You were slower, leaning more against the counter, he could even hear you swear in a foreign language. But before he could ask, there was another person with a bright sequined outfit asking for a sandwich. It was 12.30, and things were finally calming down. When the lobby was empty, you turned to your coworker and asked

‘’You think you can handle it on your own?’’.

‘’Yeah, why? Oh, you probably wanna go home. When does your shift end anyway?” 

“At ten.”

“Ten? That was more than two hours ago. Why did you stay?”

“You needed the extra pair of hands.”

‘’You’re a fucking angel. Let’s get you out of here. Cousin.’’ Richie yelled for Carm and there went your subtlety. Still, the man you had been helping the last few hours let you speak. Your boss apologized profusely, offering you everything. Then moments later got into a screaming match with Richie over the latter driving you home, instead of finishing his shift. Ah, the duality of men. You guessed guilt won over, because as soon as you were done changing, your crush was there, car keys in hand.

 ‘’Won’t you get in trouble? I mean, there might still be people and what if Carmy gets pissed.You can still go back and finish up.’’

‘’I’m not gonna let you walk 30 minutes in the dead of night. And before you say anything, I know you’ve done it before. When I’m on schedule you don’t have to anymore, it doesn't matter if you end at 20 or 3 in the morning.’’

Seeing him be so kind was a surprise, so you only managed a ‘’Thanks Richie’’ before heading to his car. By habit you went to the backseat and got scolded by a ‘’I’m not a chauffeur, you know.’’. So you quickly scrambled out and moved by him. Your mind flashed with the words suspended license as you fastened your seatbelt. But he was careful, very much so. You, on the other hand, were so bad at actually guiding him, that the Google Maps voice had to fill the awkward silence. When his car was in front of your building, you were relieved and basically ready for bed. 

‘’Thanks for everything, Richie, really.’’ 

‘’You’re welcome, angel.’’. You guess that the nickname was gonna stick, whether you liked it or not. Problem is that you did enjoy it, even a bit too much. Darling, sweetie, honey, your colleagues had cycled through all of those when they had trouble learning your name. Chef seemed to take priority over all of these. But now, every time Richie saw you he’d call you the new name. You’d expected it the day after, but even a week later he was still at it. 

‘’You’re my angel, you know that right?’’

‘’Don’t let the actual Angel hear you. You’ve helped me out so much since starting, it’s only fair.’’

As you were giving a coffee to a customer insisting they didn’t need a takeaway lid, the older man went to also make himself a latte. As if on cue, Carmy calls you both ‘’5 minutes, drinking break’’. Needing the fresh air, you also go out and the smell of strong cigarettes hits you. Knowing your need to fit in, he offers you one. Surprisingly you take it and lean into his lighter. He remembers teasing you about not being able to operate one, your cigarettes with foil, etc. All your inexperienced charm was cute. It scratched the part of his brain that watched hardcore porn, that did a double take when you wore pink dresses. Even if he cringed when you were too young to get his references, your expressions of concentration went straight to his cock. After a couple of shifts, his searches drifted from milf towards college girls. The flame illuminates your blush. Why do your lips wrapped around his ciggie make him as hard as a rock? It was wrong to get the hots for you like that. Maybe it was just a fucked up close proximity thing, like the romance books you cooed about. There was only one couch or whatever. Riche wasn’t blind, he could see the looks that Carmy and Sydney gave each other. Hell, even sometimes he swore your eyes lingered on him. The Bear had its allure, it was a crockpot for not only fights, but sexual tension. 

He must’ve zoned out way too much because you called ‘’Earth to Jerimovich, hello. Carmy is gonna have our collective ass.’’ Richie almost mutters something about having your ass before stopping himself. He just stubs his cigarette out and goes back to working the register with you. Thankfully the clients killed his stiffy before you could say HR violation.

 Richie kept his promise. Despite ending his shift a whole hour before you, he was there, waiting. At this point, there was no point for you to argue. You just accepted your new role as his passenger princess. But as you initially expected, something went wrong. He stops at your house. You wave goodbye and expect him to drive away, as usual. He doesn’t. More like he can’t. The car sputters but won’t start. His eyes drift to the fuel indicator and he sees it’s completely empty.

‘’Shit, Carmy sent me on that product run before you came in. Must have drained my tank.’’ he concludes, to fill the awkward silence.

 ‘’You could stay over. I mean, I’m not sure if it’s gonna be more comfortable, but at least then my roommates won’t call the police on you.’’ you say, half trying to appease the guilt in you and half because you wanted to spend more time with him. 

 ‘’Hey, my car isn’t that old that I look like a hobo. Right? Anyway, you don’t have to do that just because you feel bad for me’’. He hit the nail on the head, but you couldn’t let him know that.

‘’Richie, it’s fine. Tit for tat, you scratch my back, I scratch yours.’’

‘’It will turn cold as fuck, it’s fucking February.’’ he thinks out loud. ‘’Okay.’’ 

He’s stealthy, fitting his large frame into the disheveled college apartment you share with your housemates. You forget just how disheveled your room is. Richie’s eyes dart from the plushies on your bed to the alcohol bottles balancing your stacks of books. You bend over your bed to fix the covers, and he swears there’s a flashing neon sign above your ass saying ‘’Smack me’’. He turns his head and he sees it. A pack of condoms. Brand new, unopened, name brand condoms. In order to not explode on the spot, he asked ‘’So, can you hand me the extra pillow and a blanket or something.’’. Richie was happy with the floor, he really was. It would be the same as his car. Besides, one night of bad sleep wasn’t going to kill him. But then, you reminded him why he fucking called you his angel. 

‘’You can take the bed with me’’. He must’ve made a face, because you clarified ‘’God, not like that. Ummm I meant that it’s a big mattress. There’s enough space for two people to lay down without touching. Plus by the time you get comfortable, I will be dead asleep already.’’

You were wrong. In your own room, your own bed, you were wrong. You had shared it with friends, even a few lovers. But none of them had been as tall as Richie, as broad as him. No matter how any of you moved, there was no way to avoid skin to skin contact. You’re convinced your colleague was too tired of you cause he was fast asleep. Finally you just give up on trying to be comfortable, lay on your stomach and bury your face in the pillow.

 It must have been muscle memory. That was the only rational explanation as to why Richie wakes up in the middle of the night with his hands gripping your ass. He moves them immediately, ready to apologise, to move to the floor, to fucking leave Chicago. You don’t even stir, finally sleeping heavily. He fucking pops a bonner, like he’s 10 years younger than his actual age. Just as he turned away to tuck it into his pants, and you woke up. Thankfully you didn’t scream or kick him out. You just asked ‘’Need a hand?’’

You weren’t sure what came over you. You never thought you would be this bold. But again, there was no rational way to react to your crush touching himself while laying next to you. 

Richie is fucking extatick. But still gentle, having the subtlety you were lacking. The fingers that were on his cock traced over your lips, before he leaned in. His kiss was soft, but needy. Still he wasted no time in pulling you closer to him, rubbing himself against you. Holy shit, the man was hung like a horse. All the rumors about tall men having a third leg certainly were right in his case. You would let yourself be humped by Richie all night, your needy moans muffled by his kisses. He instinctively moves to kiss your neck, nipping at any bare skin he can reach. He thrust against you shallowly and groans.

‘’Tell me what you need, angel. If it’s more, I’ll give it to you. If you want me to stop, fuck I’ll stop. Just please fucking talk to me.’’ 

‘’More, don’t stop. Clothes off, please. Need to feel you.’’ You swear he had a second job as a stripper, because he shed his shirt and pants off in record speed. He’s toned. You let yourself admire his abs for a moment, even this getting to you. You needed to have him and you needed it now. Your hand gingerly place his hand against your pussy, a silent plea to touch you.

‘’You’re fucking drenched, angel. Do I make you this wet? Just from kissing, huh. Can’t wait to see just how sensitive you are. Would you like that?’’ He asked you, a grin on his mouth. 

You nod.

‘’Words, angel. Words, please.’’

‘’Yes Richie, please.’’

That was enough for him to start rubbing your clit, keep you begging and whining. He switches it up curling a finger inside of you and fucking swears. He toys with you, alternating between the two until you come. 

Only then does he get up and reaches for the box. You’re too blissed out to be mortified that he saw your contraceptives. You were too busy wondering how he was gonna use them. He opens the package and doesn’t take his eyes off you as he rolls the condom on his shaft.

Richie Jerimovich is a fucking traditionalist, literally. You were ready to tease him about the missionary, to ask if he could handle it. He took a pillow from next to you and placed it under your hips. No one had done that before, but before you can ask what’s going on he taps the head of his cock against your clit. The first thrust is shallow. But the second one is so deep inside you, that you can’t help but say

‘’Holy shit’’ 

‘’Language, angel’’ You have half a mind to flip him off, but then he moves again and all your thoughts are gone. You had never been this wet before. And he fucking started rubbing your clit in time with his thrust. You can’t help but fucking moan, and along with the sounds of the headboard hitting the wall, it’s a fucking cacaphony. Richie muffles your sounds with his hand.

‘’Let’s not have the whole building know my name, huh angel. After all, if you get a noise complaint now, I’ll have to stop.’’

You whine and that’s all he needs to keep going. Richie feels that you’re close, you were fucking clenching against him. His pace picks up, he’s chasing his own relief. He’s determined to make you come a second time, to show you he’s all about your pleasure. There’s also a little voice in his head, saying that if he orgasms before you, he’s too old for this. Spent, you groan out ‘’Cumming,please’’.

Were you begging for more or for permission, he wasn’t sure. Both options sounded fucking great to him, so he said ‘’That’s it, let go. Such a good fucking girl for me,angel’’.

Usually the girls he’d hook up just mixed in ‘’yes’’ and ‘’fuck’’ when they orgasmed. You fucking managed to say ‘’Richie Jerimovich, you’re a fucking god’’. That’s all he needs to follow suit and come. He rolls off of you, panting and sweaty, ready to throw the used condom in your thrash. You, in all your fucked out naked glory, manage to dart to the bathroom, grab the toilet roll. After he wipes, you return, aiming to avoid a UTI. When you’re back, he’s waiting with his fucking arms draped against your spot, clearly wanting a cuddle. In his arms, you finally managed to get some good sleep. 

Morning comes. Richie stays, because of course he does. It turns out both of you don’t really do this. So it’s a very long and awkward silence before one of you suggests breakfast. While you’re eating, he somehow manages to get himself a free toll from a friend of a friend who owes him. Finally, you manage to say only a portion of what you want, namely

‘’Richie, ummm can we do this again. I think after last night I’ll have to go to the walk in every time you brush past me.’’

‘’Of course, angel. I’m not nearly done with you.’’

You choke on your food, having the feeling that it’s not gonna be the only thing you’d be choking on in the future. God bless Carmen Berzatto and his inability to remember your schedule. 

[anothermansjeans]

youtuber!reader forgetting to edit out the five minutes of her just rambling about everything she likes about spencer🙏

hehehe this is part 2 of the q&a blurb!!

cw: spencer's a little shit (affectionate), the comments roast reader, reader just loves spencer sm, soooo fluff

wc: 737

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

You did it again– you accidentally forgot to edit a video and posted it. This time, you blame Spencer completely. After filming, you were planning on editing it immediately because you had a strict posting schedule and you were behind on some videos. However, Spencer thought it was a good idea to pull you in his arms and practically wrap you in a cocoon of his warmth. You woke up the next morning completely forgetting about the unedited version and queuing it up to be uploaded.

You were terrified to watch the video, seeing as the comments were blowing up almost as much as they were when you exposed Spencer, but you simply couldn't remember what you said that would make people go feral. You wanted to wait to look, mostly because you were alone and didn't know if you could handle the embarrassment by yourself, but also because you wanted to be comforted by something you were still deeming his fault.

When he got home, he put his satchel down and took off his shoes, noticing you on the couch with your laptop opened to the video.

“Are you editing?”

You looked over your shoulder and gave him a shy smile. “No… I didn't edit a video again…”

Furrowing his eyebrows he walked towards the couch and sat down next to you. “Which one?”

“The Q&A from yesterday.”

You actively watched his face shift from concern to amusement. “Have you watched it?”

Immediately shaking your head, you gave him a confused look. “No.”

“You should.”

At his ominous words, you pressed play. It started off like the last one– fixing your hair in the viewfinder, adjusting the lighting, and preparing for the video. The video continued showing small hiccups along the way when mispronouncing usernames and laughing at something Spencer said, but you finally realized why Spencer was so amused when you told him this was the unedited video.

“@ prettyboystan asked ‘what’s your favorite thing about Spencer?’” You put your finger on your chin pretending to think. A scoff was heard in the background from Spencer. “Oh hush, you know I love you. Hmm, I love how he always has something new to tell me. It’s never a dull day in our relationship.”

You thought you were done, but then another thought popped into your head, “Oh! I also love when he reads to me. I know it sounds juvenile, but his voice is soothing and calms me down. Oh my God, he’s also so talented on the piano. There’s almost nothing he couldn't do.”

Looking down at your phone, you were preparing to move on, but you looked up at Spencer one last time, finding words at the tip of your tongue. “You know, I also love the way you find an appreciation for the new things I introduce you to, and the way you take in new things with ease. You're so open minded and I love it. You're also extremely humble for how accomplished you are,” Your face was lighting up as you looked off camera towards a blushing Spencer, “I love that you're caring, kind, and helpful to everyone around you. I also love that you let me love you. It makes me so happy being able to give you the love you deserve…”

Beside you, a soft chuckle could be heard, and you paused the video to scold Spencer. “You think this is so funny.”

“Because it is!”

“Ugh!” You groaned as you went back to your laptop and scrolled down to the comments… they were definitely roasting you more than normal. “They’re calling me a simp!”

“What’s a simp?”

Looking at him softly, you grabbed his hand, “this might be a long conversation…”

++

BONUS: some comments

@ user: SIMP SIMP SIMP SIMP !! SIMPERELLA OVER HERE

@ user1: oh babe, you're so down bad

@ user2: please give us more… video essay on what you love about spencer???

@ user3: and you call him the yapper?

@ user4: wait everyone's roasting you (rightfully so) but this is so cute????

@ user5: she stops talking about him at 10:34

@ user6: i wish i had someone to yap to about how much i love them

@ user7: GETTING READY TO PLACE FREEZE TAG ON THE HIGHWAY AFTER THIS ONE BABE !! how dare you be so sweet

@ user8: can spencer teach a college course for men who need to be better because you would NEVER compliment a man sm

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat @itsleilabxtch @strabarrybat @hiireadstuff @cherrybb-ily @wietske27 @mynameiskelly

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[leth-writes]

wolf pack x violent!wolf!reader? :> (didn’t know if you got my other request and just didn’t feel motivated to do it and if so just ignore this-) reader has a violent tendency, whether that be with vampires, or just an aggressive personality, for vampires it may be sort of an on-sight attack even if they’re on their side of the border, or for fellow people maybe reader’s affection is a bit more aggressive? From running and bopping them on the head or just tackling them? :3

🌌 anon

Hello, lovely galaxy anon!

I did get your ask, but I just have it queued to post later on, so don't worry, you'll definitely be seeing it later on!

In the meantime, have some quick headcanons about the pack with a reader who likes rough housing and rough affection!

Sam

Please don’t, you’ll make him sad 🙁

Sam can be really sensitive to feeling that you don’t like him. He still sometimes feels that he’s a monster, so he needs more gentle affection. However, when you explain that sometimes it feels that you have so much affection you just have to let it out, he starts to view it in a more positive light.

Paul

Paul is very passionate, so he doesn’t mind your strange methods of showing affection. He’d love to rough house with you if you’re into that!

Jacob

Jacob is a more solitary person, so he’s not huge on affection. However, he’s also one of the best fighters in the pack, so you’ll definitely attempt to rough house with him a couple of times. If he doesn’t feel like it, he’ll just pick you up and throw you on the couch to cuddle.

Quil

He’s got a more playful style of affection, so he’s down to mess around and rough house, though he always throws the fights. Uses it as a way to get your energy out so the two of you can cuddle and hang out without you trying to bounce off the walls.

Embry

Flustered, doesn’t really know how to handle your affection. He’s quieter and struggles expressing himself, but will definitely pick you up and sling you over his shoulder if you ask. Loves carrying you around.

Seth

How could you? Now he’s so sad 🙁

He’s just so innocent, he thinks you’re being serious. Please explain to him the concept of rough housing, and he’ll understand. Still always lets you win and has to kiss every bruise to feel better about hurting you, though. 

[jrooc]

✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Hi hi! Welcome to your local Tag Game. I’m your friendly neighbourhood host, Jess, and today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Jess, JR_ooc

Current Location: In my kitchen, in my running gear despite having not yet gone for a run 'cause I just remembered I was doing the tag game

Favorite picrew (don't have one? you can skip this or do this one)?

I don't have a favourite but this one is new? Why do I choose questions I can't answer 😂

What's one thing you want in a picrew?

Two toned hair.

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom?

Unsurprising my sportsAU: In My Veins Like Lightning

Why is it your favourite? I just love the story and the boys I wrote and so many of their angsty and sweet moments.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? Both? Some parts came quickly, a lot of the scenes just came to me. But there were some sticky parts I struggled hard with.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Darkness comes before the Dawn by @ian-galagher @creepkinginc and @transmurderbug and @crossmydna's Locking Down the Locksmith -- both amazing.

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? Things Beyond Mistake -- I am still heartbroken over a year after reading it. What an amazing story I would give my left arm to have finished. We miss you Grayola.

Favorite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? Cocky!Mickey and Tough!Ian. Love when they fall into bed right away and catch feelings after.

Least favourite? I'll read it all but don't love when Mickey after one interaction is all in. Where's the tension! Where's his tough/untrusting side? Also the slow slow slow burns make me insane... not that that stops me.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? A/B/O and really unique AU's like Maintenance or The Circus

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Like I drank some warm tea. Like things have clicked into place for a moment in time.

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: I'm lucky to have a few but @bawlbrayker always helps with a beta and a kind word or helps me choose when I'm stuck between options. Special mention to @runawaybrainsc @gallapiech and @blue-disco-lights who have been clutch and hugely supportive.

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Pour a glass of wine, play snails in the discord chat and read some angst with a happy ending or the latest fic club discussion pick.

If you were mentioned, you're tagged! Rest of the tags below the cut:

@deedala @energievie @spookygingerr @michellemisfit @celestialmickey

@mybrainismelted @tanktopgallavich @mickeysgaymom @such-a-barbarian @crestfallercanyon

@rereadanon @too-schoolforcool @roryonic @lee-ow @stocious

@transsexual-dandelions @transmickey @sgtmickeyslaughter @rayrayor @solitarycreaturesthey

@ms-moonlight-inn @whatthebodygraspsnot @suzy-queued @callivich @francesrose3

@doshiart @guinguin1984 @look-i-love-u @spoonfulstar @the-rat-wins

@thepupperino @gallavichgeek @andthatisnotfake @burninface @batty4steddie

@mmmichyyy @pookiebearmick @palepinkgoat @heymrspatel @deathclassic

@wehangout @gallawitchxx @gallavichsuperfan

Lmao I hit my tagging limit so if you see this pls know you’re tagged 😆

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Seven (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Phew! Well, the last couple of chapters were a lot, hey? I wonder what will happen next, tee hee! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. You give me life! ILY :-*

Word count: 8.6k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

“Hey,” you croak, as Frankie cracks the door to your room, finding you laying in the glum light. You’re on top of the covers and hugging your pillow to your chest, body curled around the white mass like you’re trying to form a human s’more.  

Of course, you can’t sleep. You’re just slumped there, despondent, blinking into the crow black dark. Your tears have subsided, at least. But you feel sapped. Like you barely have any energy to feel anything anymore. 

“Hey,” Frankie returns, dipping the mattress as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Benny send you?” You had insisted Benny go and get some shut eye, after comforting you for the better part of half an hour. There were hugs and warm tea and threats to handle Pope if he’d done something to deserve it. He hadn’t, you’d explained. He hadn’t done a damn thing worse than you, at least.  

“Negative.” 

You hum neutrally and scooch your body up so that you’re sitting with your back to the headboard, knees drawn up around the pillow you still cling to like a security blanket. 

“I’m gonna say something, okay?” Frankie says firmly, and you brace, fully expecting to receive some tough love. You note with relief, however, that as the man turns his head towards you, his eyes are nothing but soft. “You and me. We’re going back to your sister’s tomorrow. Get you some space.” 

Space from him. That much is implied. 

“No, Frankie.” Your throat tightens. All you’ve had is space. For months. The last thing you need is more. 

He places a hand on your knee, his tone firm and almost paternal. He’s going to make a damn good father, you think, with a swell of pride. “That’s what we’ll do. It’s not going to be like this anymore. We’re gonna stop taking chunks out of each other.” 

All you had wanted to do was to be close again. You’d never meant-

“-Frankie.” 

“Just think about it.” 

You nod, and Frankie pats your knee. Stifles a yawn. Presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He looks wiped. With a gust of breath he stands, preparing to leave. “G’night, chiquita. Get some rest, alright?”

“Yeah. And Frankie?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry, by the way.” 

“What for?” 

You sweep your hand through the air. “For the drama. Et cetera.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“Do you know…” You cast a sidelong glance towards the black pane of the window. “Is… he coming back?”

The man drags his tongue along his lip. He does that when he’s uncertain. “He’ll be back.” 

“How do you know?” You don’t remember the last time you felt or sounded so small.  

“Because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment,” Frankie attempts a lopsided smile, his cheek tugging on the corner of his mouth; but it drops when he realises his joke hasn’t landed. “Just… try to get some rest. Okay?”

You nod, and you watch Frankie leave, his face murky but kind through the shadows as he gently tugs your door closed behind him. 

When he’s gone, you wait a moment for his footsteps to retreat and then you cross to the window, cracking it open far enough that you can hear the gentle shush of the waves. Far enough that you could hear either the sound of a truck pulling away in the dead of night, or the front door clicking gently closed, perhaps. 

You lie back on top of the bed covers, flat on your back, and your limbs stretched out like a starfish. You lie with your eyes open, staring at the ceiling - exhausted, but wide awake. 

And, after who knows how long like this, you hear footsteps tramping on to the porch. You hear the front door gently being latched, and the soft pad of someone travelling up the stairs. You hear the footsteps pause outside of your door for a moment and you hold your breath. You imagine an outstretched fist, primed to knock, but you dismiss this as wishful thinking. You’ve done a lot of that lately. Too much. 

Then, finally, you hear him shuffle into his room, clicking the door shut behind him. 

Only then - when you know he’s back - can you sleep. 

And, as you drift off, your thoughts of him merge with the soporific sounds of the waves. 

You’d doubt, with how much you’ve ached for him already, that you could hurt anymore, but you know fine well that it’s possible. After all, the waves break over and over, don’t they? 

They break, and they break, and they break. 

***

The following morning is an awkward affair. Everyone is tetchy, and even after a very necessary lie-in, residual grumpiness abounds. 

It figures. A shouting match and a rude awakening will do that. 

Still, the day must go on. You get knocked down? You keep moving. 

Will, ever an early riser and a true hero, brews up the first pot of coffee. Starts cooking up some breakfast, and, one by one, you and the boys filter downstairs, chasing the scent of sustenance. 

“Don’t even,” you say to Tom the moment he opens his mouth, the room falling silent as you waddle sleepily downstairs, gravitating straight towards the caffeine and the relative safety of Will. Frankie, Benny, and Tom are sat around the dining table, and, you note -because of course you do- that Santiago is glaringly absent. 

Maybe Frankie advised him not to come downstairs just yet. Perhaps he’s simply sulking. Or sleeping. Or avoiding you. Perhaps, maybe, possibly a million and one things, which you’ll never know the reasoning behind. 

It doesn’t even matter now. 

You’re done trying to figure him out. Since when did that ever get you anywhere useful? 

Instead then, you attempt to refocus. To divert your attention away from your sun, and towards the wider constellation of stars you are proud to call your squad. And, of course, to your plate of breakfast - that deserves attention too. 

The one thing you refuse to focus on, for the moment, is the elephant in the room. 

Still, you glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs. 

“What else is new with you then, Benny boy? Seeing anyone?” You reach for just about the only topic you hadn’t covered with him yesterday evening - when you had been trying ever so valiantly to distract yourself from Santiago and all that he entails. 

In response, his baby blues dance with mischief and he grins, raising one arm to pop a bicep in celebration even as he shovels forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth with the other. “I had myself a date the other night.” He probably flexes in his sleep, this man. 

“She stay for breakfast, Benjamin?” Frankie interjects, finally managing to be vocal again now that he’s been provided with the sweet hit of his second mug of caffeine. 

“‘Catfish. She was breakfast.” 

You hear Will groan from over at the stove. “Too much information, Ben.” 

Ben, meanwhile, looks entirely unapologetic. 

“Whatever happened to being a gentleman, huh? The way your Granny raised you?” Tom enquires with a thin smile. “Thought gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell.” 

“Oh, but I was a gentleman, Redfly. Let her finish first ‘n’ everythin’.” Benny offers a shit-eating grin, and you are once again grateful for the distraction as the room descends into fond bickering, the back-and-forth culminating in Will whipping his sibling with a rolled tea towel for continuing to overshare, accidentally catching Tom in the crossfire. 

“Those dirty-minded individuals asked the questions, man,” Benny defends, jabbing his finger around in a circle at the rest of you in accusation. “They always wanna know what action I’m getting. Hell, no-one ever asks me what I’m readin’.” 

You snicker. 

You glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs. 

“Of course not. We’re trying to live vicariously through you, man,” Tom interjects. “We don’t want to vicariously read things.” 

“Especially not the pretentious shit you read, Benjamin,” Frankie digs, before collecting up the plates and conveying them over to the sink. And, given a natural lull in the conversation, Benny takes the opportunity to grab your attention. 

“You still up for training later, hon? I’m tabled for a beastly session this afternoon.” 

It briefly crosses your mind to wonder where Benny gets his abundance of energy. You, on the other hand, can’t even be bothered to trace that train of thought through to completion. “Yeah. Maybe, Ben. I, uh, need to drive into town this morning though.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, with a mouthful of streaky bacon, swivelling his cap to sit backwards on his head as though that will help him pay better attention to you. 

You glance once more -only briefly, of course- towards the mouth of the stairs. 

“Mmm-hmm. Need to grab something from the pharmacy.” You blink, attempting to look as innocent as possible, but your face burns with a flare of heat, and you can’t help but scratch your nose self-consciously. 

You feel as though they all know the purpose of your trip - somehow - even though that’s impossible. And, you pray that even if they do, that they will at least have the courtesy to let it slide. 

Unfortunately though, you suddenly remember that Tom exists, and that therefore, you’re likely not getting away with it that easy. 

“You and Pope all out of condoms or something?” he guffaws around the lip of his coffee mug as he takes a deep swig. 

“Tom,” Frankie warns, subtly shaking his head as he comes to retake his seat by you. 

Oddly though, Tom’s comment barely even manages to irk you. You pat your defender on the arm. “Frankie. I’m fine.” 

He surveys you regardless, to be sure, and you are grateful for it. Frankie knows fine well that Tom has a talent for rubbing you up the wrong way. The two of you have never quite seen eye to eye. 

“See, she can handle herself just fine,” Tom reminds him pointedly. He never did like the way the rest of the boys fussed so damn hard over you. His tone has the veneer of light-heartedness. “You can take a joke, right?” 

Your lips twitch around some halfway cruel retort, but, turns out, you truly have no ire left today. You’re all out - and besides, you’re not looking to burn any more bridges than you have already on this trip. 

“Listen,” you begin sincerely, cradling your mug of coffee between your palms. Deciding to nip this in the bud before it spirals. “Are we good, Tom? I was a little bit hot-tempered yesterday. I’m sorry.” 

Once again, you glance towards the mouth of the stairs. Your gaze lingers a fraction longer this time, until it ticks back to Tom. 

He looks at you levelly for a moment over the rim of his mug, before his brown eyes begin to shine with a dull, metered-out warmth. Nothing like the warmth of your sun, of course, but shining on your more brightly than Tom had deigned to in a long while, at least. “Sure we are. So long as you don’t wake me up in the middle of the night again. I need my beauty sleep.”

You hold your palms up in rare surrender. “You got it.” 

“What was all that about, anyway?” Tom needles, shuffling forward in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. Beside you, you can sense Frankie and Benny ready to knock him back should he dare to overstep. You wonder suddenly if you’re too harsh on the guy. If you need to loosen off, be a little kinder. 

You wrap both hands more tightly around your coffee now, letting the warmth bleed through into your interlaced fingertips and the steam rise under your chin. “The usual,” you dismiss, not wanting to go into specifics. That would involve replaying it all. Would call for a digging out of the shrapnel lodged in your chest - an activity far too involved to undertake alongside a lazy breakfast. “Sometimes a storm is what it takes to clear the air, right?”  

“And?” Tom cranes forwards a little more. You clock Frankie’s nostrils flaring subtly in annoyance. “Is the air clear now?”

You know what Tom’s asking. Was anything resolved? Are you two done? 

Is all this over? 

Apparently curious, all three of the men direct their gaze toward you, keenly awaiting your answer. You even reach for one -an answer- but you come up lacking, and your uncertainty carves a notch into your brow. Makes your mouth go dry. Your gaze flicks to the mouth of the stairs, and this time, you can’t look away from it. “I…”

Thankfully, unfortunately, you are saved and damned all at once as Santiago finally appears. Emerging from the spot you’ve been glancing intermittently at all through breakfast. 

All the faces in the kitchen turn abruptly towards him as his careless footfalls sound out, and suddenly his eager skip down the stairs entirely loses steam. His pace slows, dragging to a dead halt by the time he has reached the base of the stairs. 

Your eyes go as wide as they can, through no fault of your own, and despite being the focus of the whole group’s attention, Santiago stares straight ahead at you. Of course he does. Only you, as though there is no-one else in the room to acknowledge.

“Morning,” he addresses, solely to you, his expression impassive, yes - but certainly not harsh. Not angry. 

“Morning,“ you respond, as brightly as possible, your eyes still wide and unblinking, and it is a little unnerving as every other head in the room swivels simultaneously around to face you. Oh good. Because you’d worried this might be awkward. You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Will has bacon,” you offer stiffly, your whole body so full of tension it feels brittle; like it could snap. 

As if the product of some hive mind, the heads swivel in unison back towards Santiago. He doesn’t drop his gaze from you, however. Doesn’t even blink - just looks between your left eye and right repeatedly. “Fabulous. Thanks.” 

Sure. Okay. This is totally normal. Except… you don’t think you’ve ever heard Santiago describe something as “fabulous” in his life. But why not start now, hey? This is fine. 

You watch him turn. Walk towards Will and the stove top, and when his gaze finally drops from yours it is like the taut line which was drawn across the room finally snaps, blissfully allowing some of the tension to sag with it. 

“Good timing, Garcia. Here.” Will doesn’t miss a beat, transferring the spatula into Santiago’s hand and shuffling him seamlessly into his position before he can clock what’s happening. “I’m officially passing the torch of Breakfast Duty into your capable hands.“ 

“Uh. Sure,” Santiago obliges, obediently beginning to move the sizzling strips around the pan as Benny stands, already crowding him to jostle for seconds. Will slaps the waffled tea towel across Santiago’s shoulder for good measure too, and you die a little inside at how goddamn domestic he looks. Especially since he’s still wearing his fluffy sheepskin slippers. Rocking his bedhead of gently tousled, greying curls. 

It makes you yearn. 

“Want a ride into town, soldier?” Will calls to you across the space, jutting his chin up at you and snapping you from your stupor. Immediately, you scrape your chair back, the gentle throb of nerves making you eager to animate. Eager to jump on any excuse to get the hell out of there. 

“Yes! Please!” 

You scoop up your plate and cutlery, and you attempt to take Frankie’s to the sink too. That is, until he protectively winds his arm around it like a bear defending its cub and begins actively batting your hand away. You guess he wants second helpings too. 

You sidle over to the stove then, where Santiago is dedicating himself to his latest occupation with vigour, Benny equally invested in hovering with his empty plate - and not above begging for scraps. 

“Where to in town?” Santiago asks in a hushed voice, his thick eyebrow arcing. You dismiss your plate into the dish bowl to soak, and he pauses his spatula duties momentarily to await your response. 

“Pharmacy.” You look at him pointedly. 

His face crumples with something resembling apology. Or - perhaps more likely - regret. “Okay.”

Your eyes lock for a moment, and he looks so different to you this morning than he had in the dead of the night. It is more than the gentle morning sun giving a soft glow to his features, the dusting of late summer freckles on his nose popping in the light. It is more than the wholesome appearance of him cooking up breakfast. More than the hush in his tone, and the way his chin dips down, making his eyes look big and round and gentle as he looks at you from beneath his long sweep of lashes. 

You suspect that he is purposefully making himself soft. Blunting his harsh edges so deliberately and so entirely that you fear he will sluice to the floor like the insides of a cracked egg. “You, uh… You need anything? Need me to…?” 

Santiago. Honey. You’ve done quite enough already. 

“No,” you say, but the word doesn’t audibly make it out the first time around. You clear your throat. “No. Thank you.”

“Okay.” 

Your gaze dips to the dried, rogue fleck of toothpaste right on the corner of his mouth. You can’t explain why, but this tiny, human detail makes your chest ache. “Talk later?” 

He forces his sober expression to twist into a halfway smile. His eyes grow big and earnest, that cup of coffee gaze gently warming you. “Okay.” 

Don’t, you inwardly plead with him. Don’t give me hope. Don’t break me again, Santiago. 

A niggle plays at your brow. It’s odd, really. You remember the words and venom spat from each of your mouths yesterday. Of course you do. But you can no longer feel the all-consuming ire that came along with them. That part -that feeling- is absent. Every scrap of anger consumed. It seems as alien to you as the raging storm must feel to the clear morning which follows. 

And so, you can’t help it. Really can’t help it. You dip forwards to kiss Santiago, softly. Right on the point of his beautifully high cheekbone, giving his tea-towel adorned shoulder a light squeeze. 

You leave, then, to the sight of that subtle crimson flush darkening his cheeks, your gesture evidently both confounding and flustering him. 

You leave too, to the sound of Benny yelling “Look alive, Pope! Don’t burn my goddamn bacon!”. The spatula has gone limp in his hand as Santiago’s gaze trails after you, and the tension is once again pulled taut like a string across the room. You imagine a festival of blush red balloons tied all along it, rising and dancing like your hope. 

You leave, with an answer to Tom’s question. 

You and Santiago? Is it over? 

No. It’s not done.

But you are done with being angry. 

You’re done breaking, and no longer will you throw yourself against those rocks. 

***

The time away from the house was useful, and the scenes of the open coast slipping by smoothed your roughened edges out like a tossed, worn pebble. The salt-saturated air humming through your wound-down window had you drinking in deep, energising lungfuls. Then, there was Will’s steady, reassuring drawl, and all the feelings of security that came along with it. 

Steady, dependendable, straightforward Will. You always knew where you stood with him. 

At least, that’s who he had always been to you. Not the volatile, ticking time bomb you’d heard he’d become since he’d gotten out. Since he’d almost choked a man out in the tinned produce aisle. 

It was good to have time to talk with him. You were endlessly glad to hear the ways Will was moving forward. You were glad -first and foremost- for him, of course; but you couldn’t deny it bolstered your own hope too. To know that there was a route out? A path onward - even when some things attempted to drag you back? It felt good. 

Speaking of things which dragged you to them, you were also grateful that Will didn’t press you (too much) on Santiago-shaped matters. In fairness, at this point the whole squad is probably sick to death of the topic. Regardless though, it was refreshing to talk about other things. About Will’s new life. His bizarro public speaking gig. His worry for Benny, as an unfailingly attentive and loyal big bro. His insistence that the “kid” is not living up to his full potential. 

Benny’s doing fine, you had assured him. Benny’s… buoyant. 

So, in sum, it was safe to say that despite everything, by the time you had arrived back to the house you’d felt decompressed. It made you wonder if - maybe - last night’s storm really had succeeded in clearing the air. Of course, that depended on Santiago too, and where he was at today. Whether he had any more drama brewing, up in that pretty head of his. 

From his vibe this morning though? You had gotten the sense that he was oh so tired too. 

It didn’t change anything of course. The fighting. The fucking. Not really. Not any of it. The anger, once given its release valve, had simply moved through you like weather. It had turned out, it was all mostly bluster. Ephemeral. Shifting. And it couldn’t touch the truth of things, could it? The permanence and depth of your love for him? Not really. 

It did change something in you though, that unforgiving storm. If nothing else, it had made you acutely aware of how powerless you are. Your weather cannot move the mountains, and Santiago is as stubborn and immoveable as a wall of rock.

You’d believed, at one time, that perhaps you could succeed in shifting him. Encouraging him. Convincing him.

But now you know for sure. 

The only way he’s running into your arms is of his own accord. In his own good time. 

When he’s ready.

If he ever is, of course; ready. And on that topic, you’re less and less sure that he ever will be. That Santiago will ever be ready to be loved by you. 

It’s sad in one way to realise that. But in another way, it’s freeing. To give up. To stop trying to shape things into what you’d hoped they could be, and to simply let things be whatever they are. To make peace with the truth of things. And peace? It may sound counterintuitive, but as a soldier, peace is all you’d ever really wanted. 

Perhaps that’s why you feel calm as you pace down the track back to the house. Why there’s a spring in your step as you fix up a sandwich for yourself and Will, heading out across the dunes to where the boys laze by that frilled edge of ocean. Perhaps you feel calm because you really have exhausted all of your options. 

Because there’s truly nothing else you can do. 

Because it’s out of your control. 

Because you cannot move mountains. 

And so, when you join the group and Santiago flashes you a tentative and oh so pure smile? You return it easily this time. 

You can’t change yourself and how you feel. You’ve tried that. You certainly can’t change him. You’ve tried that too. 

And… why would you want to, anyway, huh? To change him? In so many ways, you think, as you watch his rich, scratchy laugh bob in his throat, and see those delicious crinkles radiate from around his eyes, he’s perfect exactly as he is. 

After all, he’s your best friend. 

And, for the remainder of the afternoon, you simply want to focus on that. 

For today, you reckon you’ll simply have to try to see him in pieces. In fragments. 

You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s the only way you can make it through, but when you do realise, it strikes you. If you too find it hard to reconcile who he’s always been to you with all that he could be, then maybe you and he never were so different after all. 

He certainly could never grasp all of you at once, could he?

***

The rest of the day passes pleasantly - much to everyone’s relief, you suspect. After the card games wrap up, there is plenty more entertainment to be had. There is time whiled away goofing around with a football and a frisbee. There’s a grill session on the dunes and chilled beers and music. When the heat becomes too sticky, too intense, there are sea swims and splashing around in the waves and everyone trying to dunk Benny. There’s solitary time too. Time for sunbathing and reading and podcasting and naps; and, in between, there is the cyclical eruption and waning of amiable chatter - whenever someone sparks up with a talking point.

In sum, you all opt to just be with each other. No particular agenda in mind, and it feels good. Really good. 

You’ve missed them all. Hell, even Tom, though you’d never tell him that to his face. 

The stretch of beach you’ve claimed is stunning too. The sands are golden and fine-grained and the water is perfectly temperate; but, it’s a hidden gem, the patch not attracting a fraction of the stifling crowds you’d find along the main drag. Throughout the day, other people come and go, of course. There’s the family with the adorable little kids, for example. The little boy, in particular, who had seemed to take a real liking to Benny - and who’d even roped him into helping build sandcastles. You’d watched, fondly, as each of your squad’s faces had split with wholesome, eye-swallowing grins at the adorableness of it all. There was the lone woman who spent 45 minutes giving you evil eyes - apparently, you’d deducted, for daring to be surrounded by five attractive men. You’d even suspected she might march over and punch you at one point, judging from the hate seething in her eyes when Will had asked you to slather-up his milky-white back with his trusty factor 50. 

Mostly though, it had stayed pretty quiet, and you and the boys had more or less had the beach all to yourselves. 

Various members of the group would filter off every now and again, of course. To replenish supplies, grab a new book, or buy an ice cream from the truck which pulled up. But, there had always been a core contingent remaining, even as the intensity of the day’s heat had begun to burn off, replaced with a softer, gentler, and more oranged glow. 

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t realise it, until it had already happened.

That by now, you and Santiago were alone. 

You look up from your book and all of a sudden, you are the only one left lounging on the blankets. You look out to the water, and Santiago is the only figure to be found there too, currently floating on his back, bobbing over each gentle, orange-frilled wave which laps up to the shore. 

Christ. When did it get so late? 

Santiago must realise the predicament at a similar moment to you, you think, as by the time you have finished swivelling your head to scan the sands for signs of anyone else -finding no-one but a distant dog walker- he has already begun to wade out of the water. 

It is something you have watched him do so many times today, but now that it is just the two of you, this time it hits just a little different. This time, you notice him. Really notice him. Can’t help it. You watch him rise out of the water in the golden glow of the descending sun, and shake the rivulets of water from his darkened, wetted curls. See his tan chest emerge first, the colour in his shoulders a deeper, richer brown already from a day soaking up the sun. That silver chain of his swinging and glinting in between his smooth, shapely pecs. And, you note the soft cushion of his tummy swelling over the waistband of his swim shorts, the garment sodden and clinging tightly to his ample hips and thighs. Even slipping down just a little as he wades from out of the water, revealing a hint of his happy trail as he beelines directly towards where you lay. 

Your stomach twists with a deep, hot yearning, and you are grateful that you have at least a moment to compose yourself before he arrives, sea-shined and dripping, at your now deserted camp. You have the wherewithal, at least, to throw him a towel as he reaches you, trying not to stare (too much) as he begins to dry himself off. 

“Thanks,” he offers, with a lazy flash of teeth, and you unconsciously rearrange yourself, very suddenly aware - now that you’re alone - that you are stripped right down to your flimsy bikini. 

You see a swallow sink down Santi’s corded throat as his eyes skim down the length of you, but he is quick to obscure it. He’s still playing nice. Softening himself, you think. 

With a laugh as roughly hewn as driftwood, he flicks some water at you after scrunching his hand through his sodden curls, spraying cold flecks across the bare expanse of your belly, causing you to tense and squeal. His shoulders shake with gentle mirth, and, once he’s towelled off and wrung out his shorts a little, he spreads his towel out next to you, parking his ample ass down. 

“Didn’t feel like a swim? The water’s nice.” 

“Nah.” 

His head swivels about, eyes traversing the length of the beach. He scoops a hand around his stubble, and you hear it rasp like sand. “Where the shit did everybody go?”

You shrug with one shoulder. “Beats me. I was far too engrossed in my trashy novel to notice.”  You dog-ear the page of said book and put it to one-side before leaning back, supporting your torso on bent elbows, legs still elongated before you and crossed neatly at the ankle. The position pushes your breasts out, and you swear Santiago tries valiantly to look just about anywhere else - more or less succeeding too. 

“Then… I think we’re alone now.” 

A mischievous smile catches the corners of your mouth. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.” 

You turn your head towards him, to see if he’s picked up on your song-lyric-inspired choice of words, but the solemnity of his expression catches you off-guard. His brows are drawn down, the sockets of his eyes all shadowed despite the golden hour glow still pouring over the horizon, lighting the stark contours of him. 

In unison, the two of you shift position, coming to sit cross-legged. Side-by-side, looking out over the ocean. It seems easier that way, you think. Not to face each other directly as you each say whatever it is you need to say. 

You know that it’s come time to say it. That it’s overdue. 

Besides, it’s undeniably beautiful, looking out across the view like this. Enjoying the lapping waves and the undulating, orange zest water stretched out below that burning sky. Now cooling, post-dip, Santiago reaches over for his trusty tartan blanket. Silently, he first tucks it around his shoulders, then he passes it around yours. It’s a stretch for the square of fabric, and so you huddle a little closer to one another, finding it is even more warming as your bodies press together. The wetness of his thigh, from those water-logged, sand-coated trunks contacts you too, but you make no effort to move away, instead resting your folded thigh just on top of his. 

You can smell the ocean on him. Salt and sunshine and sunscreen. He smells like summer.

You look out across the landscape with renewed concentration as you wait for him to speak, not ready to face whatever expression his features may offer. You look outward with vigour while you wait for him to look inward, and you worry that his words - when they come - will surely be more ugly than the sight before you. Will be bitter and not sweet. 

You even brace for it. 

You’re so used to the storm. 

Still, when he eventually speaks, you are surprised. Surprised that he is calm and steady. That his voice is like slow, warm sand pooling into your cupped hands. That his words are both bitter and sweet. “Hey. C’mere.” You link your arm into him. Lean your head onto his shoulder as his tone grows wistful. “Do you… Do you remember that night in Philadelphia?” 

You smile immediately. There had been only one such night in Philadelphia. 

It had been your birthday. You and Santiago had been catching a connecting flight, heading back from a deployment and en route to meet the boys off-base to celebrate. However, all the planes had been grounded due to some technical hitch with the tower. You’d been bummed that your plans had been ruined; but Santiago had come through. Had gifted you one of the best nights of your life. A very silly, drunken night, if you recall. 

You cringe, hazy, smooth-edged memories flooding back. You clap a hand to your face with residual embarrassment. “Christ. The karaoke.” 

Santiago chuckles warmly, and you feel his laugh reverberate through you. “It wasn’t karaoke! You hijacked the goddamn wedding band.” 

Your hand clamps in dismay over your mouth now, and you lift your head from his shoulder to face him. “Oh my god. You’re right.” 

Your laughs mingle together in the tight space between you, becoming indistinguishable, like the tide and the shore. “I still can’t believe you blagged our way into a wedding reception.” 

“I can’t believe it took us so long to get rumbled,” his hand settles over yours, where your arm is still hooked into his.

You beam at him. “Thank God I’m stealthy.”

He pumps his eyebrows, entirely incredulous. “You? Yeah right.” 

“I’m sure I must’ve helped, Pope.”  

“No, cariño, no. You were not helping.” He scratches at his layer of scruff. “Shit. What was it… What did you tell the kid on the desk your name was, again?” 

You try to recall, and when you remember you snort in a full-blown laugh. Your ensuing, chaotic giggle planes tears of joy out of the corners of your eyes. “Mariana Trench!”

“You’re fucking despicable. You know that?” Santiago laughs along with you, and God. It feels good. Really good. It feels effortless, your mirth sharing space like this instead of your anger.  Your laughs mingle then dissipate, withdrawing gently like the retreat of a wave. 

You lean your head back on to his shoulder, but your giggle fit is evidently not wholly through - not just yet. Your shoulders begin to shake up against him - gently at first, and then with a rising chuckle. “Whiskey in the jar-o,” you sing under your breath, wistfully recalling your drunken duet of choice. “Fuck, Santi. That was a good night.” 

He rests his head on top of yours, the weight of it a comfort. “Yeah. Yeah it was,” he agrees. “Jesus, I’m telling you though. They were lucky we showed up. Before we livened things up? The dance floor was as dead as a battlefield after one of Redfly’s sweeps.” 

You hum at the fond memory, a soft smile arcing over your face. He has you curious though. “What made you think of that night?” Why this memory, out of everything?

He stiffens noticeably up against you. Sits more upright. Presses his palms together. “That was, uh. That was the night that I-” 

“-Vomited into a soup tureen?” You interject with a snort, as another random memory flashes back to you.

“No. Nope,” Santi counters decisively. “That was Cat’s Oma’s 80th.” 

You giggle chaotically again. “Oh yeah. Shit.” You miss that lady. She was a sweetie. 

“Hey. Listen,” Santiago begins with far more gravity. Enough gravity that you shift, turning your body as he draws your gaze to him. You had been waiting for this moment to arrive; but, now that it’s here, you wish you could cling on to the sweet things for a few moments longer. Still, you settle opposite him now, the two of you still cross-legged but positioned face to face. He adjusts the blanket around your shoulders, tugging on each corner. With a watery smile, you slide your palms on to his wrecked, perfect knees and give him a gentle squeeze there, seemingly pushing his croaked words out with the gesture too. “I want to say that I’m sorry.” 

You have nothing for a moment. No words, at least. Nothing but the motion of your hands smoothing back and forth over his knees. Nothing but the pained expression as your eyes swim with an ocean of feeling, deep enough to rival the vast body of water before you. 

You note that his eyes are wet too as he settles his own hands over yours, gathering them up into his grasp. He stares down intently at your hands, his brow notching with a deep frown. He drags in a slow breath and releases it. “This got so fucked up, and… that’s not it at all.” He looks back to you then, his umber eyes shining with remorse. Deep regret welling in his resonant tone. “That’s not how I want to show up for you.” 

Your tongue, too, reaches for an apology as readily as your hands had reached out for him. “Fuck, Santiago. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry too.” You had never meant to hurt him. You had never wanted that. 

He drops his gaze to your neat pairing of hands. Gingerly begins to smooth the rough, sea-pruned pads of his thumbs over your knuckles, your skin humming dully where he touches. “I mean it. I’m sorry for everything.” The tendons in his jaw clench, muscles slipping over bone. He drags your cupped hand into his lap, drawing an absent-minded spiral in your palm with the pad of his thumb. The sensation makes a pleasant tingle bed down beneath your skin. “I swear. I never meant for my bullshit to affect you. Christ - that was the whole fucking point. Thought the least I could do, after everything, was protect you from that.” 

At his earnest words, your chest tightens, and you abruptly halt the dance of his fingers by clasping his hands, gathering them between your own palms like a prayer. Your voice cracks in half like a broken promise. “Santiago. For Christ’s sake. You think I need protecting?” The implication in his words cleaves your heart in two. “From you?” 

He shrugs with one shoulder. Sniffs. The muscle in his cheek tugs up, and you feel his hands go clammy in your grasp.

He frees himself from your grip for a moment, before continuing to skim his fingers up and down your forearm arm in a gentle, tender dance. The lightness of his touch contrasts starkly with the heaviness settling into his brow, his wet, puppy dog eyes swimming beneath. “I dunno. I was always a better fucking soldier than I was a friend.” He swallows, his voice so soft you can barely hear him. “Than I was… anything else you might’ve needed me to be.” 

“No. That’s not true,” you respond adamantly, your head shaking vigorously from side to side. “You’ve always been there for me.”

“Except when it counted.”

“No!” you emphasise, the thrust of your words carrying your whole body forward. You shift position, transferring on to folded knees, crouching before him in the sand. Reaching, to slip your palms up to each side of his face, and you hold him like a prayer now. “No, Santiago. Especially when it counted. Believe me.”

He tries to turn away from you - you see it. He tries to begin his retreat, like usual, but this time, you capture his roughened cheek with one palm and you hold his gaze with yours. You speak firmly, willing him to understand. “Santiago Garcia. Idiota. You’re my hero.” 

He scoffs lightly. His face twitches with scepticism. With doubt. With this self-deprecation he always carries, usually so well concealed by his confidence and easy charm. And yet, as you caress his stubble-flecked cheek with your palm, he sinks gratefully into your touch. Leans against it, his eyes fanning closed and his long lashes splaying down towards his cheeks. 

“God,” he breathes softly in Spanish, barely audible. “No-one has called me that in a long time." He lives in a world of aliases and nicknames, and you see the weight of his grief twist his face at hearing his name fall from your mouth. 

“I mean it. Do you hear me?” you plead, snagging his eyes to yours as they drift open. “You have made my life more beautiful in a thousand ways. You’re not -and you never were- something I need protecting from.” You regard Santiago, and his pretty eyes glisten, wet with a well of scarcely contained emotion -starlight in his lashes. “I love you, Santiago. Whatever has happened. Whatever happens. I love you. Not when you’re this ‘perfect’ version of yourself you finally deem worthy of love.” You search his eyes “That’s bullshit. I love you. I love you now.”

Santiago slowly, gradually musters a nod, and you smooth your hands over him. Over his shoulders. the nape of his neck. His chest. Trying to plaster over the evident cracks as his emotion crashes like a wave against rocks. He scoops a hand around his stubble, his lower lip now downturned. Trembling with feeling. Fat, liquid tears shining in his eyes, threatening to overspill. “I love you too.” 

What a terrible, sad thing, you think. That you love each other. That there’s such bounty and abundance, but that at the same time… it is never quite enough. 

Maybe one day, it will be; enough. 

For now though, it is still something which causes you pain. And, you can see -more clearly than ever now- that it hurts him too. 

His eyes dance over everything but you. His face twists. Contorts and tightens as he wrestles with it, but he cannot hold back the tide a moment longer. Full, wet tears spill down Santiago’s cheeks, and he makes some attempt to fumble them away, until they grow too numerous. You reach for him instead, and for a moment he tries to gently bat your hand away. “Hey,” you scold, protest, smooth. “Santiago.” His eyes drop, and his gaze fixes intently on a spot in the sand as you gingerly scoop his tears away with your crooked forefinger. The finger you then trace lovingly along the length of his jaw. The finger you trace along his eyebrow. The point of his cheekbone. Every place the waning golden light paints him. Your eyes dance over him. Every contour. Every sharp angle and every hollow. Every soft, silver curl. And he stays perfectly still. Unmoving, as though he is afraid your touch will withdraw like a tide at any moment. 

“I missed you,” you whisper, and it is at once bitter and sweet. “It hurts. It… hurts to be without you.”

For a stretched moment, you do not believe he will respond, the only sign of movement from him a lone tear sluicing down his sculpted cheek. But, eventually, his words come. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I need to find a way it doesn’t hurt you to be with me.” You shake your head, a protest dying on your lips as Santiago drags your hands to him. “I know you won’t buy this. You don’t have to. But I do want out. I swear it’s just this one last job with Lorea. And then I can… Then maybe we can…”

He trails off, his words waning. Breaking on the rocks. 

He never could articulate a future with you, could he? Never could seem to dream that up.

You could be angry about that, you suppose, but you truly have no more anger left to give. You could be sad instead but, turns out, you’re out of that feeling too. All you have left to offer in this moment, in fact, is a small, resigned smile.

“It’s okay,” you smooth, and what’s more, you mean it. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Your fingers play over the leather and beads of his bracelets. Over the tendons in his wrist. The light hairs on his forearms.

You’re done with all of that now. Done trying to push him towards a future you’re not even sure he wants with you. Not sure he ever wanted. It’s funny almost, as you sit here, letting the future go. You sit here with him, so much history humming between you it’s like standing amidst ruins. Like you are two statues, memories and stories carved into your bodies. Sometimes, it feels like the past is all you have. But, you are thankful when the sinking, orange segment of sun draws you to it, reminding you there is one more thing you have. Something between the past and future. 

You have the here and now. 

You reach for it. 

It’s all you’ve got. Might be all you ever have with him. 

You twist your body, turning outward again, away from him. You fold your knees up to your chin and you loop your arms around them, fixing your eyes straight ahead on the undulating ocean. 

“That’s one thing I always loved about you, you know,” you push out. “How you always live smack bang in the moment. I’m constantly wishing it all the fuck away, aren’t I? Always thinking fifty steps ahead.”

Santiago follows your lead, swivelling to face the sunset too. His body becomes all right angles as he plants his elbows on the points of his spread knees, his butt and the soles of his feet flat to the floor, his hands loosely laced together in the space between his legs.  “You should. You should think about that stuff. You deserve all that. Everything you talked about last night.”

His words cause a tight lump to rise in your throat. 

Do you? 

Does he really believe that? 

Because, if so, then why in the hell don’t you deserve him? Why can’t he be the one to give it to you? 

You offer a theory. 

“Does it bore you, or something? The thought of a future like that?” The question emerges tattered, torn on hooks in your throat which try to hold it back; but it’s something you’ve wondered for too long to suppress it any longer. You’ve wondered without ever wanting to push that thought too far - too afraid of the answer. 

“Yeah,” he says levelly, not a hint of doubt in his voice, and you hold your breath. “With anyone else, yeah. But not with you.” You are relieved but that fades ever so quickly, your face crumpling into something halfway petulant. 

“Then… why?” 

Why is he still running? 

Why is he running from the life you could offer him if it’s something he wants too? 

You hear Santiago tug in and release a deep sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you see him lace his fingers together, soothing his thumb over his own hand like he’s retracing your comfort. “Because… I’m not brave like you.” His voice tips up at the end. Like a question. He reserves all of his doubt for himself, then? It’s not you he refuses to believe in? 

“You’re ridiculous. You’re the bravest man I know.” 

“Heh. Yeah,” he lifts a hand to self-consciously scratch at the bristle of hairs at the nape of his neck. You hug your knees more tightly to your chest. “Running into bullets. Eliminating threats, sure. But… running into safe hands? I’m a fucking coward.”

You hum, a neutral, bland sound which expresses neither agreement nor disagreement. Which takes you nowhere. 

There’s nowhere left to go. 

Perhaps the road ends here. 

Dead end after dead end. 

Only resignation. 

“Maybe we were on the same path, once upon a time, huh?” You throw the statement out with little conviction. You’re giving up on the idea that your words or your actions can make the slightest bit of difference to what could be. For now, you simply wish to make sense of what is. “Maybe - I dunno. Maybe I just ran too far ahead. Racing towards this dream of the future, before you were ready to go there. Maybe I just created too much distance.” 

Santiago hums now too. A tight, pensive sound. “Huh. Is that what you think happened?” 

You rub your palms over your own face. Dig the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. You have as much energy as a spent wave. “Uch. I don’t know.” Wordlessly, tentatively, Santiago reaches, retucking the soft tartan blanket around your shoulders. You manage to smile softly at him, surprised that it does not feel at all forced. “Maybe we just forget all that now. Maybe we just… I dunno. Live in the moment?”

Santiago’s palm draws slow circles on your upper back. You shuffle a little closer to him. “Okay. Then what do you want?” he enquires. “Right now? In this moment?” 

His arm weighs over your shoulder, huddling you closer. “Oh. I don’t know. What does it even matter?” 

“We leave here tomorrow. So tell me. What do you want right now?” 

You could imagine that you are tired of wanting. That all you want is a moment free of wanting anything at all. But that’s not true, is it? You want the very same thing you’ve craved for so long. You want him. Finally though, something in you has shifted. You find yourself able to envisage a future which is far more immediate. Something you can grasp now instead of distantly yearning for. 

The words feel hard and tight in your chest, but by the time they reach your lips, they feel so very soft and loose. Easy to sound out. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. All this time I missed you so much.” Unconsciously, Santiago holds you just a little more tightly. “I just…”

“What?” he whispers. 

“I want us to fall asleep together. I want to hold you. I just want us to have one moment like that, Santi. Peaceful, you know? After everything, don’t we at least deserve that?” You tug in a breath to launch your next words, your throat closing protectively around them. Making them sound small. “And… And maybe…” 

“What? What else?” 

“Can’t we just fuck and feel happy about it? Can’t we have just one fucking moment together that doesn’t feel like an ending?”

You wait, your raw-wound words laid out in a line on the sand. You brace. You brace for them to be washed away. To have the salt poured in. 

“Okay.” 

Your eyes snap to his in surprise, and you find his soft, ardent gaze dancing over your features. “Okay?” 

Santiago’s fingers lace with yours, and he tugs you to standing. “Come with me. Come on.” 

He gathers up the remaining supplies, slinging the filled beach bag over one shoulder. Then, he folds his other arm around your middle. Tucks you into him. You let him lead you to the house, and it’s nice. It’s nice that for once, you’re not begging him to follow. 

You let him lead you up the dunes, back to the house, and up the stairs. 

You leave the golden, sinking sun behind you, but with Santiago’s warm, molten gaze shining on you, you still feel the sun on your face. 

[heauxvibez]

Born Again Virgin III

warning: none, enjoy!

"I'm not sure I can handle this," Amaia whimpered, sinking into Micah's embrace.

Micah held her close, gently stroking her back, offering what comfort she could to her friend who was clearly feeling sexually frustrated.

"But it's only been a few hours," she murmured, pulling Amaia's head to her chest.

"You don't get it. This guy is not just fine. He's like, f-i-o-n-e fine," Amaia explained.

"Wow, that fine?" Micah exclaimed.

Amaia sat up, reaching for her phone on the table. She scrolled through Google images until she found a picture of Roman.

Passing the phone to Micah, she watched as her friend gasped at the sight.

"Oh, Maia. I'll pray for you, girl. You weren't kidding about him being fine. He's definitely something," Micah remarked.

Amaia sighed, snatching her phone back. Micah could sense the weight of the situation. Amaia was committed to her vow of abstinence, and if she broke it, it would hit her hard.

"How about this," Micah suggested, swiftly taking the phone and securing it before placing it back on the table.

She interlocked her fingers, her eyes gleaming with a plan.

"Why don't you slip into something cozy, and then we can binge-watch some Martin?"

"Really?" Amaia's voice sparkled with excitement.

"I can't think of a better way to spend my day off, boo."

"Well, alrighty then."

Amaia bounded off the couch, dashing into her bedroom like an eager child.

Micah chuckled, clicking the remote and queuing up all five seasons of Martin on HBO Max.

As she hit play, a few knocks echoed at the door. She approached the door, peering through the peephole.

A slight frown creased her lips. The figure was too tall to see clearly. In a world where danger lurked around every corner, she hesitated to open the door to a stranger.

People can be unpredictable. One misstep could lead to a kidnapping, harm, and all sorts of awful scenarios. She was definitely a worst-case scenario type of thinker. Right now, opening the door felt like a risky move.

"Who is it?!" she called out, her ear pressed against the cold, polished wood.

"Your new neighbor," a deep voice replied.

Ah, yes, the new neighbor. She recalled seeing boxes in the hallway earlier, even stumbling over one as she fetched her mail.

With a click, the door swung open, revealing the towering figure leaning against the frame.

His eyes widened with concern as he observed the smaller woman's startled expression.

It was the same guy Amaia had shown her a picture of.

"Um, hey... I'm your new neighbor, Joe. I came to introduce myself, but by the look on your face, I'm guessing you already knew that," he chuckled.

"Micah, who's that?" Amaia queried, pulling her braids into a neat ponytail.

Micah slammed the door, shutting out the person on the other side.

"Just some... uh, girl scouts... selling, you know, girl scout stuff. Cookies and..stuff. I told them we didn't want anything.." she stammered with a nervous giggle.

Their new neighbor persisted despite Micah's efforts to make the man disappear. Micah let out a grunt.

"Seriously, dude," she muttered under her breath.

"Move," Amaia gently nudged her friend aside, taking matters into her own hands. With a bright smile, she flung the door open, anticipating a troop of uniformed children clutching boxes of cookies.

But her excitement quickly turned into shock when she laid eyes on the familiar face, causing her to let out a startled scream that made the man jump.

"Joe?!"

He grinned. "Hey, Amaia. Didn't know you lived here too."

Shaking her head to regain composure, Amaia asked, "What do you mean, 'lived here too'?"

"I just moved in. I'm your new neighbor, right across from you," Joe explained.

This ain't nothin' but the Devil's work.

"Are you okay?" Roman noticed, observing Amaia's twitching eye, a telltale sign of her losing her shit.

"I'm fine," she replied through clenched teeth, her voice strained.

He flashed his perfect teeth once more, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I guess I'll be seeing you a lot more often, neighbor," he remarked, emphasizing the words as he squeezed her tightly.

Reluctantly, Amaia returned the hug. The sensation of his muscles through his shirt against her own body made her weak.

She could have stayed there forever.

But the disappointment hit when he released her. Despite her inner turmoil, she forced a smile as he made his way across the hall to his condo.

"See you tomorrow," he called out, loud enough for her to hear, as he unlocked his door.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Amaia whispered, slowly closing the door before sliding down against it.

With a whimper, she bit her lip, battling her inner desires.

"How am I supposed to do this? He's so sexy, and perfect, and he smells so good. Did you hear his voice? It sounds like sex. Not only do I have to work for him, I live 8 feet away from him as well. I can't."

Micah squatted down in front of Amaia, taking her hands into hers.

"Listen, you're going to get through this virgin thing, okay? You know why? Because I'm going to help you. I'll make sure you don't do anything with any man, no matter how fine he is... Jesus, and he is fine."

Amaia lightly slapped Micah's hand. "What? He is! You're lucky I'm not a triflin' ass friend, or I'd be over there knocking boots. But watch out for Kaydence, she'll steal your man."

Amaia rolled her eyes. "He's not my man. She can have him. I'm not feeling him like that. I just find him attractive."

"Yeah, right. I know you. I can tell when you're into someone, and you were not trying to let that man go."

"Psh, I've only known him for a few hours."

"And knowing you, you fall for people within a couple of days. That's why you're always having one-night stands. You get it in once, and no feelings are involved because they're out of your bed before the sun comes up."

Her face scrunched up in confusion. "That doesn't even make sense."

"You don't make sense!" Micah chuckled.

"Whatever," Amaia laughed, getting up and walking to the couch with her roommate trailing behind her.

They watched two seasons of Martin before both falling asleep on the couch.

Knocks against their door woke Amaia up. Groaning, she checked the time on her phone.

12:32 AM

Rubbing the crust from her eyes, she approached the door, already knowing who it was without bothering to look through the peephole.

"Kaydence, why are you always forgetting your keys every nig—Joe?" she asked, surprised to see her neighbor instead of her best friend.

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating with his movements, clearly consumed by his thoughts. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, looking amazing even though he was only wearing plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt.

His eyes wandered over Amaia's body, taking in her attire—a loose-fitting black tank top and black boxer shorts that hugged her figure. Her thick, ebony legs secretly drove him crazy. He'd kill to have those wrapped around his waist.

He would be lying if he said Amaia hadn't been on his mind all day. Since seeing her, he couldn't shake her image from his thoughts. To him, she was perfection, flawless in every way.

He considered it a blessing that she worked for him and lived right across from him.

A blush crept across Amaia's cheeks as he continued to scan her body with his dark eyes. She became nervous as he stepped closer, his gaze fixated on her lips. His hands wrapped around her waist, bending down to kiss her.

She wanted to stop him, but it felt like she was paralyzed.

When his lips touched hers, she melted into his embrace. Grabbing onto his biceps, she slipped her tongue between his lips, forgetting about her rule against sex.

Roman moaned into the kiss, his hands moving to grab her bottom.

Now they were in her doorway, lost in each other, oblivious to the world around them.

He pulled away, sucking on her bottom lip in the process.

Her breathing was uneven, stomach full of butterflies as he panting against her lips.

"I just came to say goodnight.."

_________________________

Yall foldin'? Or would you be able to resist?

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @sheyaish @tshepisho

[vintagelacerosette]

Tag game 🩷🎀

Hosted by the wonderful Jess @jrooc

Sorry for the lateness!! I was tagged by these twinkling starlights Kaka @stocious Dosho @doshiart Kat @mybrainismelted Pie @gallapiech Ice @spookygingerr Michelle @mmmichyyy Willow @ian-galagher Jen @wehangout Georgia @iansw0rld Cyn @ms-moonlight-inn Evie @ energievie Gigi @guinguin1984 Becki @francesroserecs Michelle @michellemisfit

Thaaankss 🥰

Name and A03 handle:

Shermyn/Myn & Dynastyria (no written works yet!💕)

Current Location:

On the lounge couch

Favourite picrew (don’t have one? you can skip this or do this one)?

So many to choose from!!!

Picrew 1 (I am obsessed with cardcaptors) , Picrew 2 (Willow made of usss & I treasure itttt 😍) Picrew 3 & Picrew 4 (bc who doesn't love a good bread bowl)

What’s one thing you want in a picrew?

I think more body size inclusively 🙌🏻

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom?

Tie between Molly's draw this in your style/Gallacrafts & 2024 gallavich valentine's!

Why is it your favourite?

It's the first time a drawing really looked how I thought it did in my head & I impressed myself. Also, I'm obssessed with the pastels in the gallavalentine. 🩷🩵💜

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? 

Hard bc I find body poses hard, then I start to procrastinate bc of that, but then I've got the deadline so it makes me stressed haha

Last ao3 fic you commented on?

from way up there (you and I, you and I) by the amazing @sam-loves-seb It was the cutest I couldn't even!!!

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? 

Where the Feigned Wind Falls by the very talented & missed Jenna @ianrightsonly

Thank you for sharing your story & I hope one day you'll come back 🥰

Favourite trope or head canon you like included in a fanfic?

Ohhh gotta be lust at first sight, then we fuck our way into true tender feelings!! I'm a sucker for it!! Notable writers of this are Jane @captainjowl & Kay @goodkwuestion & they are so damn good at it

Least favourite?

I haven't seen with gallavich thankfully but turning one character in a gay ship into the opposite gender to make them het!!

Secret or surprising kink or trope?

Omg it's gotta be uniform kink bc of Ray @whatthebodygraspsnot Kinktober 2022. It awoke something in me & I was like I finally get it ahaha

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new?

I feel relief & feeling proud. Then I stress about when's a good time to post for most of ya'll to see bc of timezones 😅

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line:

My loves Benja @svltburn & Vey @look-i-love-u

I run to Ben in my art WIP bc like a kid showing art to an adult & Vey's given me amazing advice with writing that sparked inspiration 🥰

I'm in the headspace of desperately telling ppl about my fic ideas & wanting it to be a surprise so idk i may reach out for more hype men haha

It’s been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____

Like Evie I mass reblog fandom works to spread love 🩷

I'm tagging these sparkling rainbow darlings if they wanna play & for anyone else consider yourself tagged 🌈

@ burninface @deedala @jademickian @sgtmickeyslaughter

@darthvaders-wife @matt404b @gallavichsbitch

@deathclassic @look-i-love-u @celestialmickey

@takeyourpillsbitchh @sickness-health-all-that-shit

@whaticameherefor @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx

@psychicskulldamage @sleepyfacetoughguy @doodlevich

@awa444 @suzy-queued @crossmydna @iandarling

@y0itsbri @michellemisfit @mikhailoisbaby @samantitheos

@pookiebearmick @reganmian @firecrxtch

@howlinchickhowl

[blue-disco-lights]

✨ Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thank you so much for tagging me - love this one! (i love them all actually) @jrooc

@stocious @michellemisfit @doshiart @mybrainismelted @mmmichyyy

@sgtmickeyslaughter @gallapiech @suzy-queued @spookygingerr @roryonic

Name and A03 handle: Julia, Blue_Disco_Lights

Current Location: my dining table - my work is hybrid, so this (suprisingly uncomfortable setup) is my desk twice a week.

Favourite picrew: I never really wore my space buns this high, maybe a bit lower… also the jewelry is a Chain Mickey homage obviously.

What's one thing you want in a picrew? I love a creative background and good sweater options. If left to my own devices, I’d be in a hoodie all the time, but it’s nice to spice things up!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Hard to choose! it's a tie between some @galladrabbles and these @gallacrafts.

Why is it your favourite? I’ve been knitting since I was a kid but never really got beyond the scarf phase lol - and Season 1 Not-a-booty-call/“Whatever, see ya” Mickey wore that green scarf and I knew I had to recreate it. The t-shirt is me attempting to draw for the tomato theme and I just think it would be so funny if Ian actually wore this outside.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? For the scarf, it was all about finding the right yarn and also that cute patch that just appeared out of nowhere at the craft store. Drawing is hard because i don't know how 😆

Last ao3 fic you commented on? It was either on Shame-proof written by @ms-moonlight-inn and @notherenewjersey or A Song Only You Can Hear by @suzy-queued - both so good!

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I’m usually OK with WIPs taking a while, truly… but oh man, I’ll copy @jrooc's answer and say Things Beyond Mistake by grayola. What a STUNNING work and we’re left just aching for what happens for those two. My second is Elevator Music by gallavichsecurity- another beautifully written one that I hope will continue one day. 

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I love enemies to lovers, the slower the burn the better 🫠🔥 . I’ve yelled about loving road trip plots a lot, so I loved Highway of Hedonism  by @roryonic (w/ beautiful art by @gallapiech).

Least favourite? I’ve never gravitated to mpreg   

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Never even knew A/B/O was a thing until i got here - hello! Same goes for Whump - once it clicked that it was an actual genre, it was like oh wow, i think i’ve been into this my whole life lol.

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Er, shocked quite honestly. When I see that I actually have multiple things posted on AO3 I do wonder who that person is??

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: There are so many hype people i want to thank in my writing journey - your amazing comments & reblogs really made me feel like a writer! (which was a little shocking - so please know they went a long way 💕) @gallawitchxx @energievie @creepkinginc @jrooc @michellemisfit @palepinkgoat @gillyp @suzy-queued @ian-galagher @sweetbee78 @francesrose3 - and special shout out to @mybrainismelted for being an amazing sounding board and co-conspirator on Gallavich Summer Camp among other things!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Hang out on Discord and Tumblr, and fall into one of the very many tabs I have open. Currently it’s You’ll Never See Us Again by @spoonfulstar - and omggggg.

If you're tagged in this post and haven't made one of these yet - this is your official invite!

tagging in @lingy910y @deedala @heymrspatel @atthedugouts @wehangout

@lupeloto @sisitrip @sandrashaine @shippergirl121fic @stocious

@jessij1997 @sickness-health-all-that-shit @thisdivorce @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos

@mickeyheartian @mickeym4ndy @callivich @transsexual-dandelions @nymacron

@rororowyourboat18 @transmurderbug @bawlbrayker @i-think-you-mean-reduction @gallavichsuperfan

@runawaybrainsc @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @thepupperino @celestialmickey

@crossmydna @spacerockwriting @catgrassplantdad @look-i-love-u @silvanshadow

[dark-type-appreciator]

Intro post! :3

Hello! Like my description says, I'm Liam! I'm 16 and I found this website a while back and decided to finally make an account!!! I really like dark type pokemon (bet you could guess that XD), and I'm always open to talk about them! I also really like other catmons ^w^ curse of being a warrior skitties fan I guess...

I also like drawing, warrior skitties, and roleplaying! I have other interests but those are my main ones! I play games sometimes, but I'm not very good at them x_x

I'm not really a pokemon trainer… I only have one pokemon haha! His name is Goldie, and he's a purrloin! He's kind of a cranky old man but he loves me!

umm, what else? I get confused sometimes, please be patient, I'm autistic (and other things). Same goes the other way around!! If u need me to rephrase something, please tell me! Also i misspell things a lot, auto correct is my best friend. Hopefully its not too bad!

Oh! Also I am a furry! :3 I almost forgot to mention that asjhdjahs

Here's my pokesona!

not the best reference, it's kinda old... Maybe I'll redo it someday!

Also- if we're friends, pls tag any bug types!… I have a really bad phobia of them, and I don't wanna see them at all. Thank you!!!

also- look look look!!

They're friends.. :3

[OOC under the cut]

Hello! Actias/moth (@act11as) here with a new blog! On a different account! Wowie! Follows will come from here, of course! Once again, general unreality warning! Out of character posts will be green, and tagged as #ooc and #Moth's yapping to avoid confusion.

Dark themes will be explored on this blog, such as past abuse and neglect, general mental illnesses, dysfunctional family dynamics, emotional and psychological abuse, as well as (witnessed) domestic abuse.

Everything will be tagged (and please tell me if I missed something!) But please be safe when interacting!

These themes will not always be present, and Liam's blog will usually stay lighthearted. Still, it's good to keep in mind!

Boundaries, and so on!

No NSFW or suggestive things! Both the muse and mod are minors. Don't be a fuckin' weirdo. *Almost any kind of blog is allowed to interact! Sentient Pokemon, Eeby Deebies, Evil teams, fallers, etc! *Self-Insert fallers, please do not interact. I personally cannot handle these kinds of blogs. Self-insert ocs are fine, but the idea of a real person on rotomblr being isekaid into Pokémon is not. (Liam will likely not believe you for a while- unless he has significant reason to. He'll think it's a roleplayer, otherkin, or something like that. He will be willing to play along though!) In-Character Anon hate is allowed! Feel free to bully him, but remember that I'm not obligated to answer everything! Pelipper Mail, un-mail, and Malice are off currently! You may be able to convince him to turn it on! Mystery Gifts are closed! Though if this and Pelipper mail were to open, this one is preferred! Musharna mail, and Musharna malice are always on! Magic anons are off.

Organizational Tags! (HOW DID I FORGET FOR SO LONG)

Liam Chatters - General post tag! As long as he's saying something in the text portion, it'll be tagged. Reblog! ^w^ - Reblog tag. Pretty self explanatory Future Sight (queue) - Queued posts tag! Again pretty self explanatory. Liam used Doodle! - Art tag! Liam's art will be tagged as this, for those who want to see it. Foresight - Out of character tag. It marks posts that will potentially be important in the future. This can range from his opinions on things to heavy lore posts! Good tag to read through if you think you're missing something!

ONGOING ARCS:

#Mask Off - [Technically pretty new- I'm sure you get the gist though]

PAST ARCS/EVENTS:

#Lucy Strikes! - One of Liam's friends stole his phone while they were supposed to be visiting. General warnings for bullying.

Blocklist:

These are blogs Liam has blocked in-character! usually for lore reasons! these are not blogs that have personally been blocked, feel free to interact on anon if you're on this list!

@/tinkatinktrain

@/sound-type-advocate

[selfcestmovies]

New recruits at Avengers Compound don't get much face-time with the higher-ranking heroes. As much as you might have loved to get to know the gamed Natasha Romanoff face to face, she was far too busy for the green members of the squad.

Still, you'd hope for any chance at a meeting. You'd ogle at the Black Widow from afar. She was so intense. And hot.

Your first meeting was fully unexpected. Each new hero had a specialized training regiment run out of the Compound's newly refurbished Simulation Rooms — capable of recreating fully life-like and battle-ready simulations. When you arrived for your first session, it was none other than Agent Romanoff herself who handled your onboarding.

"Have you used the Sim before?" What followed was 30 minutes of jargon, but you followed most of it — Stark had cooked up a state-of-the-art holographic simulator to help Avengers of all levels practice combat without the need for a corporeal opponent. Natasha joked that it was in order to prevent her from kicking the ass of any new recruits. She had programmed your regiment herself. "You're to report here at 0900 each morning for an hour of combat. I'll be monitoring your progress and adapting the program daily. Follow?"

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. "When do I start?"

Natasha had already turned to walk away from the Sim entryway. "Now – your first training is already queued up."

You gulped and entered the large, blue simulation room. There was no opponent in sight, until slowly the walls around you began to flash with lights and whir with energy. Then you saw her.

"Glad you're here. Let's start." It was Natasha, through and through.

"Didn't," you stammered. "Didn't you just leave?"

The Nat just laughed and began stretching. "That was the real Nat. I'm just a simulation, although I — I mean, the real Natasha — programmed me herself, so I share her — or my — physical and mental map." She rolled her eyes. "We're the same, basically, except I'm not the real Nat. You got it?"

You nodded.

"Then let's begin."

The coming months, day by day, you'd report for brutally intense hours of training with the "Natasha" simulation. She showed you various moves, grapples, holds and parries before forcing you to try them at full-speed with hardly any preparation. For a simulation, she sure packed a wallop.

Did you entirely hate it? Not in the least. You had been crushing on the redhead since you were in high-school and first saw the Avengers on TV. While you'd never have the chance to get an hour of private time with the real Nat, getting this up-close-and-personal with her exact double wasn't too bad of a consolation prize. At one point she pinned you to the mat with her thighs. It was fucking wild.

"Good work," she huffed when the hour was up.

It was weird to see a simulation out of breath and sweaty. "You act so real," you noted.

Nat laughed. "Guess so. See you back here tomorrow." And with a flash of blue light, she vanished, and the front door to the Sim slid open.

What you never expected was how comfortable you started to become around the Nat simulation, or more surprising, how relaxed and fun she began to act around you. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the Sim was flirting with you. After another month, you built up the courage to wink at her once she pinned you to the mat. Another month later, you made your interests vocal. "Good workout, hot stuff."

Your heart was in your throat. The simulation didn't seem to mind at all, and if you didn't know any better, it seemed like she had reciprocated the interest.

The first time you kissed her, she kissed you back.

The next day your training session was cancelled, and a few hours later, the real Natasha was knocking on your dormitory door. "I've been keeping up with your progress," she started. Your panic was fully visible. "And it's looking good. My Sim seems to think you're ready to up your regiment. Does that sound good to you?"

You nodded, speechless. By the next morning, training was back on your calendar.

"I'm glad you're back," the Sim strutted towards you once you entered her domain. "I made a new proposal for your training."

"Oh?" You were curious.

"If you're interested in learning seduction, it was easy enough for you to simply put in a request. But we're going to need some assistance."

The Sim Room buzzed with blue particulates as the hologram shifted shape. You watched as another simulated figure stepped out from the shadows.

"Just watch what we do, okay? This'll be fun."