#I wanted to keep going but I hit image limit :

[ophthalmotropy]

It still kills me that Parian was college aged... Like, DAMN! She should've been blogging!

0 notes

🎀 parahumangirltummy reblogged yurisms-s

🎮 leetcred

819 7h1n95 423 c0m1n9! 83 7h3 f1257 70 w47ch H323 47 8 p.m. 357. d0n'7 83 4 5c2u8.

✨️ capenews78

UPDATE: As of writing this, Uber and Leet have been brought into custody.

🎀 parahumangirltummy

fork found in kitchen cmon

# just once I'd like to see in the news that those two did something right # keep us on our toes

2.190 notes

🪷 yurisms-s

God. I just want to make it work with her.

# vent # delete later

1 note

⏰️ ticktockbitch reblogged adultloss

🏝 alexandrias--feet Follow

tbh i think it's about time we address the danger masters pose to worldwide communication. they could easily get someone who is trusted involved in a psyop and the cleanup by itself would be messy enough. we need stricter regulations on social media

🩵 softboyaestheticsss Follow

be serious. the same could be said of tinkers. Plus, a master that can achieve that level of control would never think "I shall use this to tweet better" lmao?? you need to touch grass.

✨️✨️✨️✨️proshitters dnfi✨️✨️✨️✨️

# aside from the weird tone I kinda agree w last comment this one # no master would think to use social media when # there are so many more effective ways to deal damage # paranoid much?

28 notes

🌫 stalksinshadow

i am very smelly

102 notes

🧸 vintage---doll

did I go wrong when I switched majors I'm going to kms

#l33chsp34k #parahumans #Let them post my god. #I wanted to keep going but I hit image limit :/ #No spoilers past Cell arc please <3

[ebonytails]

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

Heart rate has reached dangerous levels❗️

Initiating culling procedures.👁️‍🗨️

#Nyxus #Doe1 #ebonytailsart #did you know that ‘nyxus’ is censored on roblox bevause of the xus part. what the hell #anyway i love you horror boy #i want to get more horror images drawn for him so my first art of him was this of course #copy pasted from twitter? : #I wanted to try drawing Nyxus’s “Tunnel Mode” #which is almost like a “second stage” boss form if you were looking at it from a game perspective #But this is what happens when his system reaches its limit (like getting overwhelmed with information) #which tales a LOT to get to #Shakes you shales you do you understand. that I need to draw him and keep working on his story #im going to get a carrd pro lite subscription after jan 28 bevause im so crazy i need to add every secret and lore into his carrd #ive already made so much progress and i hit carrd limits TWICE on two different sites #i cut his site into two just to get past ot and i still failed #(spins in a circle) #from kris p #i like this a lot so im posting it to main and then ill move it to my personal blog

[gootarts]

as of 8/3, the most recently updated version of this post is here (it's a reblog of this exact post with more info added)

as a lot of you know, limbus company recently fired its CG illustrator for being a feminist, at 11 pm, via phone call, after a bunch of misogynists walked into the office earlier that day and demanded she be fired. on top of this, as per korean fans, her firing went against labor laws---in korea, you must have your dismissal in writing.

the korean fandom on twitter is, understandably, going scorched earth on project moon due to this. there's a lot currently going on to protest the decision, so i'm posting a list here of what's going on for those who want to limit their time on elon musk's $44 billion midlife crisis impulse purchase website (if you are on twitter, domuk is a good person to follow, as they translate important updates to english). a lot of the links are in korean, but generally they play nicely with machine translators. this should be current as of 8/2.

Statements condemning the decision have been issued by The Gyeonggi Youth Union and IT Union.

A press conference at the Gyeonggido Assembly will occur on 8/3, with lawmakers of the Gyeonggi province (where Project Moon is based) in attendance. This appears driven by the leader of the Gyeonggi Youth Union.

The vice chairman of the IT union--who has a good amount of experience with labor negotiations like these--has expressed strong support for the artist and is working to get media coverage due to the ongoing feminist witch hunts in the gaming industry. Project Moon isn't union to my knowledge, but he's noted that he's taken on nonunion companies such as Netmarble (largest mobile game dev in South Korea) by getting the issue in front of the National Assembly (Korea's congress).

Articles on the incident published in The Daily Labor News, Korean Daily, multiple articles on Hankyoreh (one of which made it to the print edition), and other news outlets.

Segments about the termination on the MBN 7 o' clock news and MBC's morning news

Comments by Youth Union leaders about looking into a loan made to Project Moon via Devsisters Ventures, a venture capital firm. Tax money from Gyeonggi province was invested in Devsisters in 2017, and in 2021, Devsisters gave money to Project Moon. The Gyeonggi Youth Union is asking why hard-earned tax money was indirectly given to a company who violates ESG (environmental, social and governance) principles.

Almost nonstop signage truck protests outside Project Moon's physical office during business hours until 8/22 or the company makes a statement. This occurs alongside a coordinated hashtag campaign to get the issue trending on Twitter in Korea. The signage campaign was crowd-funded in about 3 hours.

A full boycott of the Limbus Company app, on both mobile and PC (steam) platforms. Overseas fans are highly encouraged to participate, regardless if whether they're F2P or not. Not opening the app at all is arguably the biggest thing any one person can do to protest the decision, as the app logs the number of accounts that log on daily. For a new gacha such as Limbus, a high number of F2P daily active users, but a small number of paying users is often preferable to having a smaller userbase but more paying users. If the company sees the number of daily users remain stable, they will likely decide to wait out any backlash rather than apologize.

Digging up verified reviews from previous employees regarding the company's poor management practices

Due to the firing, the Leviathan artist has posted about poor working conditions when making the story. As per a bilingual speaker, they were working on a storyboard revision, and thought 'if I ran into the street right now and got hit by a car and died, I wouldn't have to keep working.' They contacted Project Moon because they didn't want their work to be like that, and proposed changes to serialization/reduction in amount of work per picture/to build up a buffer of finished images (they did not have any buffer while working on Leviathan to my knowledge). They were shut out, and had to suck it up and accept the situation.

Hamhampangpang has a 'shrine' section of the restaurant for fans to leave fan-created merch and other items. They also allow the fans to take this merch back if they can prove it's theirs. Fans are now doing just that.

To boost all of the above, a large number of Korean fanartists with thousands of followers have deleted their works and/or converted their accounts from fanart accounts to accounts supporting the protests. Many of them are bilingual, and they're where I got the majority of this information.

[note 1: there's a targeted english-language disinformation campaign by the website that started the hate mob. i have read the artist's tweets with machine translation, and they're talked about in the second hankyoreh article linked above: nowhere does she express any transphobic or similarly awful beliefs. likewise, be wary of any claims that she supported anything whose description makes you raise eyebrows--those claims are likely in reference to megalia, a korean feminist movement. for information on that, i'd recommend the NPR/BBC articles below and this google drive link of english-language scholarly papers on them. for the love of god don't get your information about a feminist movement from guys going on witch hunts for feminists.]

[note 2: i've seen a couple people argue that the firing was for the physical safety of the employees, citing the kyoani incident in japan. as per this korean fan, most fans there strongly do not believe this was the case. we have english-translated transcripts of the meeting between the mob and project moon; the threats the mob was making were to......brand project moon as a feminist company online. yes, really. male korean gamers aren't normal about feminism, and there's been an ongoing witch hunt for feminists in the industry since about 2016, something you see noted in both the labor union statements. both NPR and the BBC this phenomenon to gamergate, and i'd say it's a pretty apt comparison.]

let me know if anything needs correction or if anything should be added.

#project moon #limbus company #obligatory text post tag #that's all i've got for now. highly encourage y'all to not open limbus until they make a statement

[yanderestarangel]

✧ 𑂴 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 | 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓 X 𝐅𝐓𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐖: v!sex, dirty fantasies, sex dreams, v!sex, porn plot, praise kink, sex in the car, soft!dom mike, ftm reader, creampie.

Mike's concerns were never limited to just family and economic environments, not just capitalism and the concern of keeping his memory and taking care of the only person he had left - Abby - but also romantic parameters, and unfortunately he couldn't cope. get rid of such feelings... Feelings for you.

You were his coworker - always smiling and asking if he was okay or not, it made the security guard's day happier and more comforting, even if you were just being a polite person. Mike was a lonely man with several problems, and even though he was embarrassed, the only escape route he had were erotic dreams about you.

It all started involuntarily, with him going to sleep thinking about how you touched him that day - it was a simple touch on his hand at lunch, but enough for him to feel the heat of your skin transmit to him - Schmidt felt his member throb in his pants when thinking about what it would be like to touch his body, treating him gently, how he could be a little rough with you hitting his dick in your little hole while forcing you to look deep into his eyes giving him more motivation to continue hitting your body with his hips, he was already a hostage to his own desires.

"-Oh fuck..." he whispered, still in a state of deep sleep, sweat ran down his forehead while a hand went against his erection, instinctively while goosebumps formed on his skin. The image of your pussy, your body, your face, slowly riding and slobbering on his dick was too vivid-just a fantasy in his brain, but it was a fantasy he couldn't lie about that was pleasurable in every way.

The days passed more and more tortuously... Every touch, smile and conversation, every reverberation of your voice was enough for Mike's brain chemistry to change and everything to spin, his dick was pulsing in his pants and he needed some relief or simply asking you out - he didn't just want sex, but sex was also included in his intense and lustful passion for you - so, the man asked you to have a beer and take a walk around, a calm stroll through the monotonous small town night, no worries, no more fantasies, something real and invigorating; That was all Mike wanted.

His car was a hot and stuffy space, but the cold, bitter sip you took every moment from the beer bottle made your system cool a little. Mike seemed genuinely cheerful after a while, smiling widely and telling bad jokes that made you smile at his cute attempt to distract you from his poor choice of first date location... After all, even if he didn't make it clear, it was a date. Schmidt soon began to make you more comfortable with small respectful touches, some caresses on your thighs, cheeks or even a quick kiss on the forehead, while he leaned against the bench and looked at you with his black eyes, resting his face on his closed wrists.

"-You know... I always thought you were a pretty boy." Mike spoke in a husky voice filled with desire underlying whatever fear stood in the way of the advances he hadn't made. Then, everything was too fast for your brain to process - Mike above you, his hands were holding your thighs with your ankles resting on his shoulders, his thick, pulsing cock was moving in and out of your pussy, his hands were squeezing your soft flesh until that his fingertips were white - it was a way for the poor man to feel that you were actually real, not just another comforting dream he'll have as the months go by -

"-That's it... My boy is taking my cock so well... Damn (Y/N) you're so fucking tight." Mike moaned loudly as he removed his shaft from your core, only to rub it against your clit, making you moan his name even more - he slowly thrust back in making each movement count, making you arch your back for more fiction.

"-S-So fucking cute- oh fuck baby boy, do you know how much I dreamed about fucking you? How much I wanted that pussy wrapped around my dick?" He confesses between moans, he didn't really care anymore if what he said was dirty or immoral, he needed to let you know how much he wanted you. "-I just wanted to fuck you, turn you into mine, filled with my cum..."

Mike expected to see some sign of repulsion or disgust, but you just moaned and rubbed your own clit, looking for more of that forbidden and newly discovered pleasure. "-You always wanted this... deep down you knew I would never resist you." You wrapped your arms around him, holding on for dear life as he fucked you senseless.

He grabbed an arm, pulling your body closer to him as he continued to ravage your pussy relentlessly. His breathing became difficult and sweat ran from his forehead to his, mixing in an erotic dance. "-Fuck, beautiful boy, squeeze that little pussy on my dick- yes! Fuck exactly like that, good boy, such a good boy for me-!" You soon felt your cunt milking Mike to the last drop of sperm, feeling your walls close around him - He grunted loudly, spilling everything into your uterus.

"-Take it all, take my load like the good boy you are."

You soiled the antique leather seats beneath you, but he didn't care about the mess at that moment, just slowly pulling out of you and lowering himself between your legs, placing kisses on your aching pussy and leaking his cum.

"-You don't know how much I'm in love with you baby..." He looked deep into your eyes, and by the glow you saw in his orbs - he was obviously being sincere, the world stopped and it was just you and Mike that moment, and that was all he needed at the moment... You.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

#yanderestarangel #mike fnaf #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf mike #mike smut #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x ftm reader #mike schmidt x male reader #male reader #ftm reader #tw smut #smut #mike schmidt headcanons #mike schmidt x you #ftm!reader #male reader x male character #male!reader #trans reader #transgender #mike schmidt fanfic #fnaf imagines #fanfiction #mike schmidt x y/n #not sfw #smut x reader #gay smut #fnaf movie #fnaf

[ghouljams]

Brain rotten by the idea of topping the cod men.

Personnaly I'm a super soft dom and heavily into body worship and praise... so just imagining doing that to this people have me vibrating with want.

Could you imagine forcing this guys to look you in the eyes when you praise them ? Being kissed everywhere, touched with so much care and want and yearning ? You can tell its almost too intimate and uncomfortable for them (I'm thinking ghost in particular here) to see so much devotion in your eyes. To have you making them acknowledge it. To force them to see your truth. That they are lovely. Wanted. Worshipped.

What about praise ? I'm so sure soap should love that. Love being told what's good. How. Specifically. Getting lost in the praised, in the poetry you slur into his neck after bitting him because kissing isn't enough anymore you want him so bad you want to consume him.

And the after care ??? Imagine holding gaz, making him feel safe. Loved. Imaging becoming a safe space. Somewhere so precious and kind he can just let go. Somewhere he feel seen and accepted and loved and respected and cared about.

Yeah. Hope my brainstorms make yours vibe with that idea.

Also I'm heavily into orgasm denial so that too lol

Love it when doms are in my inbox, yes welcome, thank you for blessing me with this. Allow me to continue dominating these men (plus Price and König) under the cut

Ghost absolutely melts for a soft dom, you cannot convince me otherwise. He'd be good at taking punishments, a hard dom would provide a very different release for him, but I am a service switch so I am always going to want to absolutely overstimulate this man. Make him look you in the eyes while you jerk him off, cooing all sorts of sweet praise, squeezing hard every time he looks away or closes his eyes. Making sure he knows he isn't allowed to move or speak unless asked to, and then just lavishing attention onto him. He'd be brain dead in minutes, absolutely drunk on affection.

If you wanted to go the hard dom route he can take a few smacks, it just makes his breathing harder, makes him inch a little closer to breaking and fucking you into the floor. It's a good method for testing his limits, he likes knowing that you can push him right to the edge and keep him there, likes knowing he has control over himself to such a degree. I think Ghost gets off on knowing he did something correctly, he likes making his partner come because that means he did something right, and doing something right is the same as doing something good in his mind. That's why you'll never catch Simon Riley being a brat, the man needs to stay in the lines you/he have drawn so that he feels like he's in control. He's a pleasure to use, and I personally love that for him.

Soap is a fucking brat. I mean, the man has absolute switch energy but what is a dom if not a brat that gets what they want? Soap is also a fucking DOG. He will pull on the leash but as soon as you have your hands on him he's whining and begging for more. Hit him with a "What a polite mutt you are when I do x" and he'll whine about wanting to be a brat "but it feels too good." You have to bite him because after a certain point he's sinking his teeth into you. He needs something to hold onto, something to ground on, and that means biting, lots of biting. You can't ask him to beg, that just brings the brat out, unless you want a reason to punish him.

I am firmly on the Soap is a masochist train. He loves it, smack him hard across the face and he'll purr for you. The flip side of this is that masochists are almost always sadists too, they love pain so why wouldn't they do that to you? Soap needs a firm hand, needs someone pushing his head down and stepping on his cock, he's thrilled, he's drooling. After care is a must with this one, he'll be the most docile you'll ever see him, he will ask you to cockwarm him.

Gaz. Ooooh I fucking adore Gaz, come here baby I just wanna kiss all over your face. All praise. All body worship. Overstimulate him and make sure he's firing blanks, if you let him come at all. Strikes me as the sort of sub that wants it to be drawn out. Ride him until he's begging then pull off, make him watch you play with yourself until you start fucking him again. He loves the denial aspect of it, loves knowing that you're getting off even if he isn't. He's the type of guy to rut against the bed while he's giving you oral, happy to come in his pants after your third orgasm. Gaz would absolutely benefit from a soft dom, creating that space where he can just let go and stop being for a while would be so wonderful for him.

He'd likely be into some lowkey public play. Nicknames said with a little too much deference, coming up and hugging you from behind just so no one can see how hard he is when you tell him "good job out there, Sergeant." Always touchy with you, always cuddled up to you when you're on the couch. Lay on top of him like a weighted blanket he loves it. Aftercare is always top notch because it's just more babying and taking care of Gaz. He'll drag you off for a shower or a bath and just doze with you while you clean up. Do not ask him any questions for at least an hour, the man is gone.

Price.... He'll let you think you're in charge as long as he thinks it's fun. You have to know his lines really well in order to avoid them. He won't dip into sub space or anything like that, but he understands the release that comes with domming and if that's what you need he'll do it. You know those people who are so submissive they're willing to dom if their partner asks them, that's Price but the opposite. He's dominant to a degree that he is willing to direct you through topping him because he knows you need it. You can fuck him, he's absolutely having a great time, but watch out. Praise works better than degradation for him, I think if you were ever to tip him towards being truly submissive you'd have to be jerking him off, whispering praise in his ear. He'd rest his head against your shoulder and shudder when you squeeze his cock.

You can get him most of the way there, but the man is hard wired to look after people. Miscalculate or degrade him too far and he'll flip the script. You'll be the one begging if you're not careful. It's a very sophisticated game you two play, but if you're having a bad day, you can take it out on him.

König is a lot like Price. He's hard wired to be alert, so slipping him into that soft fuzzy space is hard. The best, and I mean best, way to do it is to get him absolutely fuck-drunk. Make him lose his damn mind because it all feels too good, he will be mush. Brain fried. You just gotta get him there. Lots of overstimulation or lots and lots of edging. I think König is the king(lol) of edging. I have no reason to believe this, except I think he edges if he's going into the field... really ups his aggression and makes him think less about the atrocities he commits. He'll lay on the bed and edge himself while you kiss him and whisper praises to him. He will beg for you to fuck him, will beg to be inside you, will beg for you to give him the word so he can come. He's an animal, and you should treat him like one.

The problem is that he's unpredictable once he's actually inside you(if that's what you decide on). He might keep listening to you. He also might growl for you to shut up and force a hand over your mouth, or your face into the pillows so he can fuck you how he likes without listening to you try to dominate him. He's going to take what he wants, and the only thing he'll listen to at that point is a safe word. Another masochist... please hurt him, he's begging for blood. Dangerous because again... the masochism does bleed(haha) into sadism for him. He loves pain, you should love it too... He wants to hurt you, but no more than you deserve(or ask for). Watch the lines you push with him.

#simon ghost riley #cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #headcanons #cod headcanons #this is all filth #God I was mad as hell this helped than kyou

[hoejosatoru]

Off Limits

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bonten!Ran Haitani

Summary: Your older brother, Mikey, forbids any of his subordinates from putting their hands on you. Naturally, Ran takes that as a challenge.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Alcohol mentioned, drugging mentioned (reader not drugged), oral (fem! receiving), fingering, raw sex, cream pie, Mikey is an over protective brother, guns, pet names like angel, sugar, pretty girl, etc I think that's it? kind of an abrupt ending bc I'm silly like that

It was a boring day for Ran Haitani. Well, if you consider hunting rival gang members down and beating information out of them dull like Ran does. As much as he loves his job, the thrill of seeing another man's fear, feeling his fist connect with deadly precision, sometimes it was a bit monotonous. All work and no play makes Ran Haitani a dull boy and such.

He thought he'd fix this with a trip to Bonten's strip - no gentlemen's club. He could hear Koko yelling at him in his head for, 'lessening the value of their asset' by not using some euphemism. Ran didn't think it mattered much. Men just wanted to see women take their clothes off; they didn't care what it was called.

Usually going to the gentlemen's club made him feel better, but even this was feeling dull to him today. He's already fucked all the girls he had an interest in. Some of them multiple times. And they were great, sure, but he nothing that could spark his interest now. He needed fresh blood, so to speak.

Then you walked in. Ran had been idly drumming his fingers along the dark mahogany of the bar top, half listening to Rindou and Sanzu drone on about the days' events. His fingers halted the moment he saw you, straightening up and zeroing in. He'd never seen you before, he would have remember that face... that body. Were you a new hire? He wondered... No it couldn't be. The execs ran background checks on all the women in the club, which fell to Ran or his brother to do. No way you slipped through the cracks.

A prickle of anger flared through him as he wondered if you were dating one of the execs. He couldn't image one of the guys dating a woman like you and not bragging about it though. Maybe a patron's girl? You seemed to be looking for someone. Ran smiled. He could be a helpful guy, take you to your boyfriend... and then put a hit out on him. He didn't play fair, but he always played for keeps.

"Shit, who's that?" Rindou piped up behind him. Ran stifled a wave of possessiveness rushing through him. If he made it too obvious how bad he wanted you, this would become a contest he didn't want. At least Rindou's response to you confirmed that he didn't know you, so you couldn't be a dancer.

"Dunno," Ran shrugged, "But looks like she could use some help."

Sanzu rolled his eyes. "Since when do you care about helping random women."

Ran knocked back the rest of the whisky in his glass. "What can I say, I am a feminist." Sanzu and Rindou groaned at him, but his back was already to them making a beeline towards you. The closer he got, the more he was taken by you. You were so beautiful, but you also looked more nervous that he originally appraised. Maybe you were truly just lost. Wrong place, right time - for Ran at least.

"Hi," Ran said, mustering all the calmness in his voice he could manage. You looked him up and down, your pulse quickening - and not because you were nervous. The man standing before you was one of the finest you'd ever laid eyes on. But you couldn't let that distract you from your purpose here. "Haven't seen you around here before, are you lost?"

You shook your head. "No, I'm... looking for someone." You were vague, not sure of who this man was and not willing to trust anyone but who you were looking for.

"Oh? Well I'm one of the owners here," Ran replied casually, though he was dying to know who you were here for. "Maybe I could help you out?" His words sparked recognition in you, he could see it in how your eyes widened.

He's an owner? That mean he must know... "My brother, I'm looking for my brother." You felt the tiniest rush of relief that you bumped into someone who could truly help you.

Brother. Ran couldn't help but smile. This was the best case scenario; there was not issue of competition there. "And who's that, sweetheart?"

"Mikey."

"Mikey?" But it wasn't his own voice that verbalized his surprised. He whipped around, irritated to find Sanzu and Rindou followed him. Sanzu was shocked by the mention of the boss's name. Ran couldn't deny he was surprised too; he had no idea Mikey had a sister.

"Since when did Mikey have a sister?" Rindou questioned.

Sanzu scowled. "I knew it," he snapped, "But I didn't know it was her." Of course Sanzu, Mikey's little dog, would be privy to that information. But even he had never laid eye on you before, he simply was just aware a sister existed. "You're not supposed to be here," his comment pointed right at you.

"I know, I know," you replied quickly. Mikey was very clear to you that you were supposed to stay far away from his... line of business. "But it's an emergency. These guys came to my job and I- they were looking for me." You shivered at the memory of your close call.

Sanzu's eyes widened. Ran could practically hear the gears turning in his head: how was he going to use this as an opportunity to further win Mikey's favor? Ran rolled his eyes, as if Sanzu needed to do any more ass kissing.

"Did anyone follow you here?" Sanzu demanded.

"No - I don't think so," you replied. "Please can't I just talk to Mikey?"

"C'mon Sanzu, you're scaring the poor girl," Ran interjected. If Sanzu could use the situation to his benefit, so could he. "Even if someone did follow her, we'll handle it. Let's just get her to Mikey." He gave you an assuring smile that caused a blush to rise in your cheeks. Ran didn't miss it, of course, savoring the soft little smile you returned to him.

Sanzu didn't argue, telling you to follow him instead. He led the way, weaving through the tables where patrons sat. Ran and Rindou took up the rear behind you, following to Mikey's private room at the club. Ran gave a particularly nasty look to one man who stared at you a beat too long.

"Did you know Mikey had a sister?" Rindou whispered to Ran.

"No."

"Interesting."

Ran smiled, this was exactly the type of fun he needed. "Very."

Sanzu opened the door to Mikey's office. He was sitting alone at his desk, a whiskey in his hands as he looked through a pile of papers. His eye flicked up, annoyed at the intrusion until he saw you. He jumped out of his seat. "Y/n, what are you doing here?" he was half between anger and concern.

You rushed past Sanzu to your brother. Ran leaned against the closed door, eager to see how this played out. "I'm so sorry Mikey I- I know I'm not supposed to be here," the words tumbled out of you. "But there were men looking for me. I got scared."

Mikey's eyes darkened. "Tell me exactly what happened."

You sat down, realizing how badly you were shaking. You'd come here on pure adrenaline and now it was wearing off. You explained to Mikey how you had been in the back of the bakery where you work, when you heard a gruff voice asking for you. Well, it was really more like demanding. At first you had been afraid you fucked up someones order, but when you caught a peak at the 2 men looking for you you knew instantly they were not looking costumers.

Thankfully, they hadn't seen you and your coworker had the good sense to insist you were not working today. It took some convincing, but they finally left. You lied to your coworker and said you had a crazy ex. But really, you knew the symbol on their jackets was one your brother warned you of. A rival gang. And somehow, despite Mikey's best efforts to keep you far away from his lifestyle, they found you.

"You swear you weren't hurt?" Mikey questioned, softening now that he understood why you were here.

"I'm okay I promise, just a little shaken up," you replied, "I don't know what I'm gonna do about work."

"You're going to quit," Mikey state, shooting you a look when you balked. "I should have known something like this would happen. You got really fucking lucky today, y/n. If they had gotten to you... I don't even want to think about it. You have to stay close to me. Under my protection, there is no other way."

"But my coworkers could be in danger," you replied, sad at the thought of never getting talk shit about rude costumers while kneading dough again.

"I'll have my guys watch the shop for a few weeks to make sure it's safe. And tell me the name of the girl who had your back. I'll make sure she gets compensated," Mikey replied. Before you could protest, Mikey returned his attention to the men behind you. "Sanzu, get everyone to the meeting room. We need to discuss this immediately."

Sanzu slipped out obediently. Mikey eyed the two remaining men suspiciously, particularly the taller one. "And who do I have to thank for finding her?"

The taller one, Ran you believed his name was, smiled. "That would be me boss."

Mikey's jaw tightened. "Of course." He didn't express gratitude as you expected, but Mikey was not the most warm and fuzzy person. "You two can go wait in the meeting room. I'll be there shortly." They both nodded and slipped out wordlessly. You noticed, though, Ran eyes scan you one last time, which made your heart stutter in your chest.

Mikey instructed you to stay in his office while he went into the next room to have a meeting with his executives. "Don't worry, the club is guarded by my men, you're safe here. I'm gonna make sure everything works out, okay y/n?"

You nodded. You trusted your brother completely. Mikey squeezed your arm in attempt to be comforting before exiting the room. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the headache that was dealing with subordinates.

Despite the short amount of time lapsed, all his executives were there waiting. At least they knew their place, he thought. Dogs who come when called. The room was much more cramped than their board room back at HQ, but it worked for when they needed it. Mikey took his spot at the head of the table.

"Most of you don't know this, but I have a sister," Mikey began, his eye shifting around the room. All the men, besides those you had already met, looked surprised and confused. Sanzu was the only person who knew of your existence prior to this. Being he was Bonten's number 2, he had to ensure someone would look after you should anything happen to him.

"I've kept her secret from everyone because I didn't want her to be in danger. But somehow our rivals have found out about her," Mikey stopped, swallowing his anger as the weight of the situation hit him. "We are going to find the men looking for her and we are going to fucking kill them. All of them. Destroy their gang one member at a time if we have to."

The men nodded along, Sanzu particularly eagerly. He always excited at the thought of bloodshed.

"You're all to guard her with your life," Mikey continued, "I'll be working on a schedule for everyone to take turns keeping an eye on her while the rest of us continue work as usual."

"What if you bring her to work?" Koko asked. Mikey's brow furrowed, but he continued. "Our headquarters is secret and there always a bunch of us around. That's gotta be safer than just one of us at an apartment. And then you don't have to worry about shifts."

Leave it to Koko to find a way to be more efficient. Mikey debated it. On one hand he had a good point; it was probably safer to have you surrounded by more people. And then Mikey would alway be around at work and when you went home. Because he was definitely making you move in with him, at least until he was sure there weren't any active threats against you. But at HQ you'd in the middle of his business and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Plus there were other concerns he had...

"I think that's a good idea," Ran piped up.

"I agree," Takeomi said, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Of course they like the idea. Mikey wasn't an idiot, he knew you were a pretty girl. He's seen the way men look at you and being a man himself, he knows what those looks mean. It makes him sick to his stomach. It's not that he is some control freak that would say you're not allowed to date anyone, but he has high standards when it comes to who should be allowed to date you. And this lot of men don't even come close. They were great employees, cunning and devious, but he wouldn't want their hands on you. Having you around would be like throwing blood in shark infested waters.

Still, he couldn't deny it HQ would be the safest place for you to be. Mikey sighed. "Alright, you're right Koko," he replied, acknowledging only his white haired subordinate. Had it been anyone else who suggested it he may have said no, but Mikey trusted Koko not to have ulterior motives. He wasn't so obsessed with getting women in his bed like the others. "But there will be rules. Her safety is the number one priority. I'll expect you all to take a bullet for her if needed."

No one objected. Signing on to Bonten meant being willing to take a bullet for Mikey. What was one more person?

"And no one fucking touches her," Mikey stated, looking every single one of them in the eyes so they'd recognize the weight of his words. "If you do, I'll put a bullet in you."

Ran's lips twitched ever so slightly. He couldn't say he was surprised, but he was still amused. He was a man who loved a challenged and Mikey just made this all the more fun for him.

***

Moving in and working with Mikey was not as bad as you thought it would be. Mikey's "apartment" was more like a penthouse and did not make you miss your shabby little apartment at all. You had been worried about privacy, but you had your own room and bathroom down the hall and he gave you space when you needed it. You were actually liking the arrangement, getting to spend more time with your brother than you had in a while.

Even going to work with him wasn't so bad. At first he expected you to just sit around all day, but you insisted on doing something while you were there. He was very wary of it, not wanting you to get too involved in his way of life, but eventually allowed you to do some small stuff. You cleaned up a bit, made coffees, helped organize some old files. Simple stuff.

Then you discovered the HQ had a kitchen. It was little, but Mikey was more than happy to buy all the gadgets you needed to make it functional. Since then you spent your days baking, the thing you missed most. It worked out perfectly, it kept you busy with work Mikey deemed safe and the guys got fed delicious pastries. Everyone was happy.

In fact, you were surprised by how much you were enjoying this. There was still an element of fear knowing that the bad guys knew who you were and sure you got frustrated you couldn't go out with friends, but you did like going to work Mikey.

There was another reason you enjoyed going to Bonten HQ with Mikey so much. Ran Haitani. The attraction you felt towards him the first time you saw him has only grown. He charmed you with ease, like he wasn't even trying. Ran, of course, was trying. Specifically he was trying to make his flirtatiousness seem as casual as possible, as to not upset Mikey. He loved testing the limits, seeing what he could get away with.

"What're you making, sugar?" Ran asked as he entered the kitchen. He'd started calling you that nickname after you started supplying the execs with endless sweets. From anyone else you would think it was corny, but from Ran and it made your heart skip.

"Peanut butter brownies," you replied, taking in his appearance. He was always dressed well, but today he looked particularly good in an immaculate lavender pinstripe three piece suit. You reckoned no other man could pull it off.

He looked you up and down, a sly smile on his face. "Can't wait to get a taste." Your cheeks colored. You knew he was talking about the brownies, but the way he looked at you...

"You sure do have a sweet tooth, Ran."

"Well you're certainly hard to resist. Your baking, that is," he said with an innocent smile.

"Is there something specific you'd like to try?" you asked, returning his faux innocent banter.

Ran grinned, "I could think of something." It was then you realized the two of you had gravitated towards each other. Ran towered over you, his rich, warm scent filling your lungs.

Before you could speak, your brother's voice shattered the tension between the two of you. "Am I interrupting something?"

Ran turned, a calm smile on his face. "Nothing, boss. Y/n here was just telling me about the brownies she made. Was hoping she'd let me try 'em." He spoke so casually, nothing like the low simmer in his voice that had been pulling you in just seconds ago.

"Yeah, I bet," Mikey replied flatly. "A word alone, Ran." Mikey left without another word.

"Save a corner piece for me, they're my favorite," Ran smiled at you before slipping out of the room.

"I thought I made myself clear," Mikey stated when they were alone.

"I don't know what you're talking about, boss," Ran replied, that stupid smile still on his face. Mikey wanted to punch it off him.

"Do you think I'm stupid Haitani?" Mikey asked, his jaw tightening.

"Not at all, boss."

"Then you know that I know what you're up to," his eyes narrowed.

"I just wanted to try some bro-" Mikey cut him off by pounding the wall next to his head. Ran didn't even flinch.

"If you touch my sister you're a dead man," Mikey snapped.

Ran smiled again. "Wouldn't dream of it."

But dream he did. Hell he straight up fantasized about it. What you'd look like bent over those counters you constantly worked at, looking up at him with those pretty eyes while on your knees, how sweet you'd taste... He thought about it all. But more importantly, he planned.

Later that evening Mikey addressed the incident in the kitchen with you. "I don't like you talking to Ran."

"What? What's wrong with him?"

Mikey almost laughed. What wasn't wrong with him. "He's just..." he searched for the right word, not wanting to scare you. "An idiot."

You laughed. "All men are idiots." Mikey gave you a look, but couldn't help but smile.

"I'll ignore that comment," Mikey replied, "But he's just involved in bad shit. I don't want you getting close to people in my line of work, even the one's I trust. Plus, he only wants one thing."

You rolled your eyes. "Why do I feel like I'm about to get the birds and bees talk."

"I'm serious."

"Oh, I know you are," you half sighed, half laughed. "Like I said, all men are idiots. I know what men want, I've dealt with plenty of guys like that. I'm sure I can handle myself. Plus, he doesn't seem that bad."

"Well he is. So stay away from him," Mikey said with finality.

"What're you gonna do, kill him?" you asked, half joking.

"If I have to," Mikey replied so casually you couldn't tell if he was joking or not. You knew he would never hurt you, but you weren't blind to what your brother was capable of.

"You're way over thinking this," you replied, realizing that it would not be worth it to argue over this. "I don't see Ran like that. He's just another weirdo you work with. I'm not interested in him."

That seemed to appease Mikey. You were a better liar than you thought.

Since the day Mikey found you in the kitchen with Ran, the two of you were never alone together. Neither of you address what was going on between the two of you, but you knew he felt it. You could tell by the way he looked at you. You were certain it was not a one-sided crush. However, you were smart enough to know it could not be openly pursued.

Then, one day Ran appeared to you in the kitchen. Alone. "Mikey's out on errands."

For a half second you wondered why he was telling you this, but then it hit you. "Oh." Mikey was gone. That meant...

There was nothing more to be said. You were on each other in an instant, as if taken over by autopilot. Ran's hands felt so good on your body, already wrapping around your waist. You pulled him in by the back of his neck, desperate for more.

Ran wasn't patient in the best of times, but today? He couldn't wait another second to have you. He lifted you up on the counter with ease, pulling a half giggle half gasp from your lips. He moved skillfully, stripping your lower half without ever breaking away from the kiss until he dropped to his knees in front of you.

"Been dreaming about tasting you," he hummed against your thighs. He licked a stripe up your pussy and groaned. "So sweet. Knew you would be."

Ran buried his face between your legs. He knew he didn't have a ton of time and wasn't going to waste a second of it. His plush lips attached to your clit, making you gasp. You knotted your fingers through his lilac hair, needing something to steady yourself. His teased you, pressing against your aching entrance.

"Fuck Ran," you gasped, hooking your thighs over his shoulders and locking him against. Ran loved it, the feeling of your plush thighs pressed against him, how desperate you sounded. He needed to see you completely fall apart.

Ran slipped a finger into your throbbing hole and returned to sucking at your clit. You gripped his hair so tightly it made his scalp ache, but that only egged him on more. The feeling of his fingers curling inside you and his tongue lapping at your clit was too much for you. Your body shuddered as came, moaning his name. Ran savored every second, not pulling away until he was sure you were completely finished.

He stood up, about to kiss you again when his phone went off. He checked it, cursing when he saw Rindou's message. "Mikey's on his way back," He practically groaned. Ran almost laughed at how you pouted.

"I want you so bad."

"I know sugar, believe me," his eyes flicked down to the tent in his pants, making your eyes widen. "But if you're brother kills me before I get to fuck you then we're both shit outta luck." He gave a quick kiss. "Promise I won't make you wait too long." And with that he was gone.

***

It had only been two weeks, but it felt like an eternity. You thought there had been a lot of tension before you hooked up, but now it was down right unbearable. You both seemed to be avoiding each other, not because you didn't want to see each other, but because you couldn't trust yourselves not to pounce on each other. The few times you were in the same room together were a true test of endurance.

The way Ran looked at you drove you wild. His eyes would scan your body in a way that would seem casual to anyone else, but you could feel him undressing you, thinking of all the ways he would ravish you. It made your heart race and your knees buckle. Ran had one hell of a poker face, but the glint in his eyes told you that he too was dying to get his hands on you.

By the time a month passed, you were wondering if Ran was ever going to make a move. Then, on a Thursday night just as you were about to head to bed you got a text.

Ran: Come get the door. Quietly

Your heart raced, wondering if you were reading it right. The door? As in the front door where you lived with Mikey? He wouldn't dare come here, not with Mikey at home. But you had to check. Your crept out of your room, pausing to listen for any signs of Mikey being awake. His room was on the opposite side of the house from yours, but you didn't dare get to close and risk waking him.

When you finally opened the door, you were shocked to see Ran standing there with a calm smile on his face, despite his text.

"What're you-"

Ran held a finger up to his lip, silencing you. "Let's talk somewhere private, yeah?" The way his eyes flicked over you, smirking at the tiny shirts and tight little tank top you wore told you he wasn't looking to just talk. This was a bad idea, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

The next thing you knew, Ran was in your room. It was weird to see him there, in your private space. It made your stomach churn with anticipation.

"What're you doing here?" you tried again.

Ran sat on your bed, making himself comfortable. "I couldn't stay away from you any longer."

"But here? With Mikey at home?" you questioned.

"Mikey and Sanzu hang out and drink every Thursday night," Ran replied, "They always come in Friday with hangovers. I was feeling generous and bought them a few bottles of their favorite whisky for this evening. I imagine they'll both be sleeping well with how much they drank tonight." Your eyes widened as you processed his words. Ran didn't tell you that he slipped some sleeping pills in their drinks. You didn't need to know that; all you needed to know was that Mikey was very unlikely to disturb you two tonight."

"Are you saying-"

"I'm saying, if you can be quiet for me sugar, we can have some fun tonight," Ran smiled wickedly. "Whaddya say? Can you be a good girl and be quiet?"

"Yes." The words were barely past your lips when Ran pulled you on to his lap. Your straddled him, your bodies easily fitting together. You replayed Ran's kiss countless times since hooking up, but feeling it again blew your imagination away. His lips and tongue moved expertly, intoxicating you. Any concerns of getting caught fell to the wayside as your hips rolled against him, feeling hims harden under you.

In a flash, Ran had you flipped over, your hands pinned above your head. He licked his lips as he looked down at you. "God the things I would do to you if we had time." He kissed at your neck, nipping it lightly. He was careful to not leave a mark, but couldn't resist the way it made you gasp. "Promise one day I'll be able to do everything I want to you. But for now I just gotta be inside you."

You nodded eagerly, wanting to feel him in you so badly it ached. Ran practically tore your clothes off as you pawed at his. His fingers slipped between your legs, grinning smugly as he felt how slick you were. He toyed with your clit before sliding two fingers inside your tight pussy. He watched as your wriggled and gasped at him pressing your g spot.

He drank in this sight, relished the rush of having you splayed out and needy for him in Mikey's own home. Fucking you like this was the ultimate fuck you to Mikey. He could practically get off on the power trip of it alone.

Ran continued to finger you as he sucked on your tits. Your fingers tangled in his hair, scraping his scalp. He hummed in pleasure as he took your nipple in his mouth. His tongue flicked over the sensitive bud as he played with your clit. The sensation grew too intense, pushing you over the edge.

You let out a moan and Ran's free hand clamped over your mouth. He secretly loved that you couldn't keep yourself quiet, but couldn't risk getting caught before he got to fuck you.

"Thought you were gonna be quiet for me?" Ran teased as you came down from your high.

"Fuck I'm sorry Ran, just felt so good," you replied breathlessly. He couldn't even pretend to be mad.

"That okay pretty girl," he replied, "But I'm gonna fuck you even better than that, so you better keep that pretty little mouth shut." You nodded eagerly, anything to get Ran inside you.

Ran stroked his long, hard cock as he spread your thighs apart more. He admiring how slick your pussy looked, his cock aching to feel you wrapped around him. He lined himself up to you, pushing in. His held fell back as his bit his lip, trying to stifle a groan.

"Fuck, angel, prepped you and you're still so fucking tight." He kept his voice low. He rolled his hips, feeling your pussy suck him. "Feels so fucking good."

You didn't trust yourself with a reply. The way Ran thrust into you made your entire body flutter with pleasure. You felt him so deep it left you breathless, his cock hitting spots in you you didn't know existed. You grabbed the back of his neck, burying your face into it. You sucked and nipped at his neck, trying to prevent yourself from crying out. The more Ran fucked you, the hotter it was to keep quiet. Your teeth sunk into the junction of his neck and shoulder and Ran relished in the sting of your bite.

"Fuck Ran," you whined against his skin as pleasure consumed your senses. Your pussy throbbed around him as you came, making his thrusts falter.

"Shit baby so good," Ran panted. His cocked twitch as he finally released, filling you with his cum. He slid out, a smug grin on his face as he watched his cum leak out of you and make a mess of your bed. He was debating if he should risk a picture when he heard the familiar metallic click of a gun cocking.

"Mikey what the fuck!" you gasped, covering yourself in your sheets, though he wasn't even looking at you. His dark, cold stare was solely on Ran as he point his gun at the lilac haired man's head.

"You're fucking dead Haitani."

#I finally wrote something who cheered #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani headcanons #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers hcs #ran haitani imagine

[cupcakeslushie]

Do you have any tips on for people starting a comic and wanting to post to tumblr? Like pacing ect. Or well any experience you’ve had with your comics? Love your content as well ❤️

If it’s simply for fun, and you’re just trying to gain experience, my biggest advice would be to just START. Don’t worry about it looking perfect. Don’t worry about comparing it to other’s comics. Just try something, and if you find it’s not working, you can always change things up. I have gone through several styles and page layouts since starting. Do I wish those first pages of EW looked just like what I’m doing now? Yes, but if I’d waited around for perfection I would have never started. And I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun creating it! If people like it, that’s great, but your art is for you. If you’re growing and learning and having fun, then you’ve accomplished something!

Now for some less preachy advice 😂…

—If your comic is gonna be hosted on Tumblr specifically, I would say, make sure you keep the 10 image limit in the back of your mind when you’re pacing things. That can definitely cause some headaches down the line. If you don’t plan ahead, and end up hitting it, you’ll have a sudden cut in your flow. This last update I knew it was gonna be long, so while I did plan, but I could’ve planned better.

—Variety is key!!!!!

Composition changes keep your viewers from getting bored. Sometimes I’ll find myself falling back into the bad habit of just doing the simple back and forth with two characters talking straight on, but changing the camera angle, making establishing shots when you change locations, and over the shoulder shots, etc etc…All these will make for a more interesting viewing. You may think a character needs to be in every single panel to make it interesting, but if you have a lot of dialogue, a simple plain shot—either in top of a solid background, or just over something boring, like a glance at the set, etc—this will let people focus on the words rather than splitting their focus.

Variety applies to shading as well—whether you’re using color or black/white. Variety in values are SO important for comics. You’re shoving a ton of information in a limited space, so try to keep your values different for items that are close together….it can make things very confusing and turn your line work into indistinguishable blobs if you shade without this in mind.

(Using this panel as an example….)

The top two panels have a variety of darker values and a halftone background—so the next two with Venus, I kept rather simple. I could’ve colored the buildings behind her, but then, she might’ve gotten lost amidst all the grey. There’s not really any trick or solid rule to this, but once you develop your creative eye, you’ll make these choices without even thinking about it.

A few links to helpful tools (they’re all procreate centered I’m afraid 😅)

Outline brush — a free tutorial for Procreate users. This brush kinda mimics the CPS feature that lets you create panels with a nice black outline. I used this brush very often, and it really gives your panels a professional look. Fair warning, it can be glitchy, but it’s free…

Manero Comic Bubbles and sfx — These brushes are not free, so I would recommend maybe getting in your groove before you try them out. They’re by no means necessary, but I’ve just started using them, and they save me so much time. There’s a HUGE selection of shapes, and they go on with a solid white background, so you don’t have to worry about coloring around your dialogue balloons.

#rottmnt #ask slushie #slushie rambles #I could probably think of more stuff but my brain is fried I’m just really putting the rambling in that slushie rambles tag

[shuhwaa]

Momo | Strength kink [M]

Kinkmas 2023 - Day 5 Twice Momo x fem!reader words: ~700 genre: smut (dom!Momo, they discover that reader has a strength kink, fingering, praise (reader receiving)) warnings: none

It's the moment your girlfriend puts an end to your teasing by flipping your positions around and pinning you against the bed that you realize she's reached her limit. You've been in the mood today, so ever since Momo had come home that night, you were all over her, but whenever she tried to kiss you or touch you, you would escape her by a hair's breadth. And it's not that she didn't catch onto what you were doing, it's just that she's been nice enough to let you have some fun - until now, that is. 

Trying to free yourself of her hold you have to quickly come to the conclusion that she's still stronger than you, and you should admit defeat, but the way your current position is only making you more excited makes you want to keep struggling. Even if it's just to serve as proof of your power difference.

"Played around enough?" she questions, raising an eyebrow at you. The way she's looking down at you now makes you gulp, and you instinctively press your thighs closer together. And of course your girlfriend notices your reaction, so she teases you, "Don't tell me you like the position you're in?"

"I-" you attempt to reply, but you're not sure how. Either way you know that the answer is obvious to her, still she keeps prying.

"You?"

"M-maybe..." you eventually say, without looking her in the eye. Still you don't fail to catch the smile on her lips before she leans in, and when her teeth graze your neck, you let out a moan, immediately feeling yourself melting against her touch. 

"You do like it, don't you?" Momo whispers as her lips trail kisses down to your collarbone, and she lets go of one of your wrists to slip her hand underneath your shirt. You throw your head back when she finds your chest, starting to tease you there, and when she comes up to see that you're not even thinking about stopping her, she praises you.

"Good girl." Retrieving her hand from under your shirt, she now cups your face, running her thumb along your lips before leaning in. "I really wanna make a mess of you right now," she mutters before kissing you. Taking her time to deepen the kiss, she only parts from you once she's completely taken your breath away. "Don't move," she orders, and then she sits up so she could properly watch your reactions as she slips her hand underneath your pants. You whimper when you feel her dragging her finger up and down your folds, and you clench your hands into fists, but you stay in your position just as she has asked. 

"Such a good girl," Momo whispers, her hungry gaze glued to you, and when she begins drawing circles onto your clit, you can't but whine at the friction. Bucking your hips up into her hand, she's quick to push your hips back down, shooting you a strict look.

"I said don't move," she reminds you, watching in amusement as you apologize to her.

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again," you mutter. "I'll be a good girl..." 

"Good," she answers, dipping her finger inside you, causing another moan to fall from your lips. "So wet just from that, huh?" she teases you. "That's cute." Pushing in another finger with ease, she watches with great interest how you react to her slowly fingering you. You're whining and throwing your head to the side, but at the same time you're making sure not to move your arms from the spot she had put them. And then she starts letting her thumb draw shapes onto your clit while curling her fingers inside you faster, and you can feel yourself racing towards your high. As if she was mesmerized by the image unfolding before her, she doesn't take her eyes off you for a single second, and then eventually your orgasm hits you. Digging your nails into your palms, you feel yourself clenching around her digits violently as you moan her name over and over again, and as you're finally coming down from your high, she leans in to place a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

"That's my good girl..." she mutters. "Makes me want to keep going..."

#twice smut #twice x reader #momo smut #momo x reader #momo x fem reader #twice x fem reader #twice scenarios #twice drabbles #gg smut #girl group smut #girl group x fem reader #smut

[dark-frosted-heart]

The Beast's User Manual - Clavis (His POV)

CLAVIS YOU ABSOLUTE CUTIE

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

In front of my fiancee, I’ve  always considered myself to be an elegant, magnificent, joyful, and loving gentleman.

If Emma feels even an ounce of unhappiness, it’s the loving gentleman’s disgrace—

I plan to keep working hard at it every day.

--

(It’s that time already…)

I’ve been holed up in my room dealing with documents for several hours already—

After the usual breakfast with Emma, briefing with servants, waking Chevalier up, time slipped away as I got to work. 

As I moved to relax my body, which had become stiff after sitting in a chair for so long, a wave of sleepiness hit me.

(Perhaps I’ve been pushing myself to hard lately)

(It’s been a fruitful time, but I still haven’t gotten enough sleep)

(I have a meeting later…I can afford a short break)

I stumbled over to the sofa and sat down, sensing that I’m at my limit with the yawn I let out.

I removed my ascot tie, loosened my collar, and lied down.

(Still, the situation’s calmed down considerably…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Clavis: Several jewelry dealers are scheduled to have dinner with us today. We’re having a small party, but what do you think will happen when we show off our love?

Emma: I think you can get the message across without having to show off.

Clavis: Yes, they’ll definitely pay us tribute. At any rate, the purpose of the company’s for me to arrange export destinations. I wonder how much jewelry will be collected to gain my favor. I’ll arrange a deal with the one whose jewelry best suits your taste as an honor to the winner.

~~ Flashback End ~~

Originally, the party with the jewelers was a strategy for Emma to gain footing.

(Jewelers' customers are mainly nobles…) 

(The information they see and hear spreads among other nobles)

(The more favor shown, the better the nobles’ attitudes toward Emma will be)

(Nothing wrong with taking measures)

(I also wanted to use that as an excuse to show off my cute fiancee)

~~ Flashback ~~

Merchant: I’ve heard rumors, but it looks like the real deal, Your Highness.

Clavis: Yes. Go home with that image of our wonderful bond seared into your memory.

Merchant: As you say. However, Your Highness must have a lot on your mind…

Clavis: Oh, what sharp ears you have?

Merchant: In our line of work, you’ll need to be well-informed or you’ll miss out on huge profits. His highness comes from a prestigious line that has served the Michel family for generations… I’ve heard that the head of the family is making some kind of move.

Clavis: What, it’s just some stubborn old man trying to play games with me. However, it’s not my intention for my fiancee to hear about this.

Merchant: Of course I’m aware of that. There’s already been rumors going around about Your Highness and the head of the family… People always want fresh rumors. I’ll do my small part to help. This is not just a quarrel between Your Highness and the head of the family… The huge profits coming from paying tribute to Lady Emma are what we merchants are after.

Clavis: Haha, you’re very competent. I also like to choose my business partners carefully, but I think I can work well with you. Can I expect great things…?

~~ End flashback ~~

(That party went well. Doesn’t look like Emma noticed anything was amiss)

(After all, there’s always troubling rumors when it comes to women related to royalty…)

(I can’t forgive such rumors that would wipe Emma’s smile away)

~~ Flashback ~~

Emma: Mhmm…All these sweets are just to my taste!

Emma: Their signature “Rabbit and Leopard love explosion cake” in particular is the tastiest…

Clavis: I see, I see. It was worth asking the owner for some privileges as an investor.

Emma: Ah, so it was Clavis’ idea after all.

Clavis: Haha. I didn’t think you’d notice. Your power of love never ceases to amaze me.

Emma: You’re just easy to understand. Hehe…I’m really fortunate.

Clavis: Hm?

Emma: With you, there’s always something going on every day, but I’ve never felt unhappy. Thank you always, Clavis.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(It’s my duty to protect that smile…)

(Both as a gentleman and as her fiance. I don’t want to be a useless man that causes her trouble)

Suddenly, my eyes landed on a rabbit plushie I had left on the table.

With this I could use as a substitute for Emma for when she’s not by my side.

I reached out for the rabbit and hugged it close as I fell asleep.

I’d be dead if anyone were to see me like this, but this room’s a safe space protected by a lock and key.

(Emma…)

(I wonder if you still feel fortunate at this moment…)

(...)

(...)

(...Mn…)

???: -vis…

(Wha…I think I hear…something)

(No…I’m still half asleep)

(Is it time…for the meeting already?)

(But…the bell hasn’t rung yet…)

Clavis: Nn…It’s not…time yet…

(I’ve been pulling a lot of all-nighters…lately…)

(Outside the rumors and the investments…there’s still more to do…)

(And…huh…)

(...)

Clavis: *yawn* I’m…sleepy…I’ve had enough, good night…

(I don’t want to…wake up…)

(...)

(...Mn…)

(That…scent…)

(Smells like Emma…)

(If…)

(If anyone could enter this room…it’d be Emma…)

(...)

(?!)

It took only a moment for me to wake up from my nap.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Emma right there, smiling at me.

Clavis: …

Emma: G-good morning…

Clavis: …

Emma: Are you still half asleep?

The moment I realized what was going on, I got to my feet.

I hurriedly grabbed my ascot tie hanging on the back of the couch and composed myself as I tied it.

(Damn it, I’m such an idiot…)

(I gave Emma the key to my room)

(If Cyril came calling for me and I didn’t respond, then he would’ve asked Emma for help…)

I casually stuff the rabbit into a corner of the sofa.

Clavis: Emma…

Emma: Yes?

Clavis: What did you see?

Emma: Your sleeping face.

Clavis: Did I say anything strange?

Emma: You said something cute.

Clavis: …I see …

I couldn’t put on my usual smile and hid my face with a hand.

(I talked in my sleep, and she probably saw the rabbit too…)

(...I feel like dying)

Somehow, my face felt hot enough to boil water.

Emma: Are you, by any chance, embarrassed?

Clavis: Haha, there’s no way. It’s just that, you know… Yes, I thought it strange for you to sneak into my room without permission.

Emma: Hehe…You prank me often.

I thought I’d return the favor.

Clavis: I see…you got me

(I never thought someone would try to get revenge at this point…)

(My cool front’s now ruined, isn’t it?)

(Does she think I’m cute or something…? It’s okay, really)

When the heat somewhat subsided, I removed my hand from my face.

Emma’s eyes weren’t filled with disappointmentーThey were sparkling.

Emma: And it’s my dream to become a Clavis master.

Clavis: Hm? What’s with that amusing title?

Emma: It’s a title reserved for those that you know ins and outs, and can hold the reins.

It was a great learning experience today to see Clavis after you woke up from your nap.

Clavis: …

(If you say so, then you’ve already become a master)

(Because you’re the only one that has me completely wrapped around your finger)

Emma: By the way, Clavis. Here.

Emma pointed at a spot above my ear and I quickly smoothed that spot down.

I felt the bounciness of my bedhead and wanted to jump into a hole.

Emma’s shoulders shake and she looks down as if she couldn’t hold back anymore.

(Well if Emma’s enjoying herself then it’s not so badー)

(ーNOT. I need to fix this as soon as possible)

Clavis: That’s a good attitude, my dear fiancee. I like your courage to prank me as part of your journey to becoming a master.

However…

I grabbed her hand and sat her on the sofa before pinning her down.

In the same way, I’ve mastered Emma.

I think about her all hours of the day.

In this case…I could think of one or two tricks.

Clavis: You should be more careful.

It’s too naive to be satisfied with a prank. You have to expect payback.

I kissed Emma’s forehead before sliding my lips down to her cheek and then jaw, turning her face a bright red.

(Good…)

Continuing my attack, I placed a hand on her smooth leg and let it crawl upward.

I fiddled with her skirt, which had hiked up from me pushing her down.

Emma: C-Clavis…It’s almost time for the meeting!

Clavis: I know.

Emma: But your hands are still wandering…!

Clavis: Thanks to you, I woke up ahead of schedule. I have plenty of time to tease you.

(If I want to call myself an elegant, magnificent, joyful, and loving gentleman, I’ll need to forget what just happened)

Any protest is silenced by a kiss.

This usually sweeps Emma awayーor so it would seem.

However, just as our lips parted, my cheeks were caught between her hands and pulled back in.

(Wha…)

Emma took the lead and kissed me. It wasn’t a sweet peck, but an adult kind with a lot of tongue.

I was taken aback, not expecting this kind of retaliation.

Emma: Don’t underestimate me.

I’ve been poisoned by you to the point that Cyril side-eyes me.

(...)

(Ah…Forget it)

(In front of such a lovely thing, my mistakes are not important)

Clavis: When did you get so good at handling me?

Emma: Hehe, does that mean you approve?

Clavis: Yes, I’ve lost.

(Emma is so much better than me)

Emma: You can leave yourself to me.

With Emma, my fatigue’s washed away by happiness.

(At the end of the day…I’m working for myself, not my lovely fiancee.

(To make this happiness eternal…)

(Let’s go the extra mile)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri translation #ikepris summary #clavis lelouch #ikepri clavis

[autisticlenaluthor]

Midnight

“I’ve got you!” Kara says in the morning when Lena trips over trips over the blanket discarded on the floor. Before Lena can fall, she lunges forward and catches her in her arms— graceful as ever. For a second, they both laugh. 

“My hero,” Lena says through her giggles. She kisses her and boops her nose. “Thank you.” 

“I’ve got you,” Supergirl says when another L Corp press conference is attacked. As the crowd runs in every which direction— scattering across the park like flies, Lena makes a beeline for her. She ducks down and throws her hands over her head— Kara immediately crouching over her. Like the wind, her cape blows over Lena’s body and shields her. When shots fire, they bounce right off. They’re nothing but a startling bang and flattened bullet. 

“I’ve got you,” Kara says again, her hand holding firm on Lena’s arm. “I’ll get you out of here.” 

“I’ve got you,” Kara affirms at game night when it’s time to pick teams. “Right?” 

Lena grins and rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Kara says, pulling Lena aside to hand her a coffee.

Lena blushes bright red.

“Kara!” Her voice is an octave higher than normal but she can’t help it. Of course Kara would interpret her disgruntled texts about how she was running late and wouldn’t have time to stop at Noonans as an invitation to buy the drink for her. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, I wanted to. And you really can’t function without caffeine.” 

Lena bows her head and smiles. They’ve got an 8am CatCo staff meeting in five minutes– she really did need the boost.

Running her index finger over the rim of the cup, Lena bites her bottom lip. “You really are my favorite- you know that?” 

“I know.” Kara grins. “But I love when you remind me.”

 

“I’ve got you,” Kara whispers, half asleep. Lena curls into her, shaking like a leaf as she reaches out to hug her around the neck. 

Through the darkness, Kara can just barely make out the spotty tears on Lena’s cheeks. She’s frowning, chin quivering, but still, fighting to keep the rest inside. Kara wraps her arms around her and gently pulls her close. 

She’s no stranger to nightmares either– to seeing the images of her worst days projected onto the backs of her eyelids like a looping movie she can’t escape. In moments like these, she’s almost grateful they’ve been through it so many times together. It means she knows exactly what Lena needs to feel better. 

“It’s okay,” Kara breathes, carefully rubbing Lena’s back. “You’re safe. It’s just a dream.” 

Wordlessly, Lena sniffs. She holds Kara a little tighter– her way of reminding herself that she’s real, she isn’t going anywhere. 

“You’re safe,” Kara says again. “He can’t get to you.”

“It’s okay– I’ve got you.”

Kara drapes Lena’s coat over her shoulders and puts her arm around her, effectively shielding her from the crowded clamor of the gala. At midnight, the party is still roaring. A scene with noise and flashing lights Lena hit her limit on half an hour ago. 

Lena nods to herself, pressing her body closer to Karas. For a second– she doesn’t have the discretion to think about being caught in her moment of weakness. She doesn’t care about being watched or gawked at. 

Because they planned for this weeks ago. Because Kara knows when Lena says they need to go, it means they need to go now. Because they never go to an event without knowing where the service exit is.

Before Lena knows it, they’re hidden away in a private hallway, on their way out of the building.

“You alright?” Kara checks. 

Lena nods and manages a small smile. 

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I know you’ve got me.”

#supercorptober2023 #ew

[gatheredfates]

This is not spurred from any one thing, I just want to say:

If you are someone who is coming from XIV Twitter and have no idea who to follow or how to get into the community, please just make a looking for people to follow post and tag me. I will add it to my boosting tag.

But also tag me, because the community is so much better here - you can free yourself from toxic social media so fast, I really mean it. I literally only go on Twitter these days to keep up with bands. I can't stand the drama.

Come to tumblr because you get

Better, long-form content (you cannot tell me the image hosting on twitter is good, you liar).

Limited to no drama. People are chill and won't lash out unless you hit first.

More authentic interactions.

Far less 'social climbing'.

Limited to no drama I am being so serious. Unless you follow someone who posts drama, there's no algorithm to outrage you!

Me. I'm cute. End debate.

Twitter/X is an absolute cesspool and I promise you'll have a far nicer and more authentic experience here. Build yourself a dash, follow people you like; you will literally not run out of content this way.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #i dropped twitter/x months ago #and literally check like #maybe once every two weeks for sleep token news #i'm not kidding #and my mental health is so much better #free yourself

[vivilingriphyn]

Congrats @zaptrap on hitting 1k! :DD

Click for clearer image

Had lots of fun with this especially how I feel like I've finally taken a breath of fresh air after getting burnout from linework and sketching, so thank you for making me think long and hard for a couple of days on how i wanted to do this, the limitations and challenge you've given for this dtiys was headache inducing in a good way that I'd always welcome, since it's helping me improve and have fun. So thank you and congratulations again!

Now let's talk about the illustration itself, the inspiration came from when we were tasked to act, aka theater. From that one thing it set off all alarms in my head that THAT was the one! So I went with that and began thinking of other words, "Dramatic, Dynamic, Tragic, continuation and Symbolisms etc. And with the words now chosen my brain began to visualize exactly what I wanted, and ofc the original art as my base, taking the pose and making it as dramatic as possible while still retaining the original pose but making it feel after it's the continuation ofc inspired by your reply "nah it's not already in him (unless u want it to be lmao)" so took your words and ran with it! XD

Plunging that knife into Cole's heart and ripping out that same knife to create something beautiful.

The Lilies and Spider lilies, I wanted them in illustration as symbolism of sorts, I've never been good with symbolisms but still wanted to try em. (By google definition) Lilies mean life while ofc Spider lilies means death, in the illustration i tried to make the lilies on Cole transition into spider lilies, as well as the petals on blood trail towards Jay's knife while there’s a actually blood dripping down going pass the spider lilies and lastly the petals that are drifting upwards towards the stage light is presumed to be.

Since I've taken theater as inspiration ofc i really wanted make sure that the lighting gave what i wanted it to give, while it also became a challenge for since i realized that lighting and shadows were one of the things i lack so again thank you @zaptrap for making this dtiys because not only was it fun but gave me a milestone that i wanted to achieve which is to improve on understanding with lights and shadows and i have achieved it subsequently thanks to this dtiys!

Now you might've noticed Jay's design. It's actually because when waiting for the references I already started doing the illustration. Since i didn't wanna burn out my overload of motivation with doing nothing.

And this is the illustration 3hrs in. As you can see Jay would've looked completely different and wouldn't have any no parts of his face showing because I thought that literally half of his face was metal xD the thing on his chest would've been different, no metal parts going down his abdomen, no belt, and the boots. So for his design here i did change some aspects of it like the chest part and a lil bit on the boots and ofc giving Jay's face back, but kept some of what i originally drew which is not adding the metal parts on the abdomen and keeping the ribbon belt and mixed the boot with some parts of Jay's shoes in the references. I kept these because i thought it add to the compassion and overall flow of the piece especially the ribbon belt (I don't know what they're already called but i need something to differentiate them 😭) because without it it feels to much empty space that the drifting petals wouldn't be able to fill in as I wanted it to.

Anywho again congratulations @zaptrap ! I really REALLY had fun with this and I hope this piece makes you feel rewarded for reaching the milestone of 1k because you deserve em mate!

#jay #jay walker #ninjago #digital art #art #lego ninjago #ninjago jay #cole #cole brookstone #bruise #blood #spider lilies #lilies #illustration #zaptrap dtiys

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I got an ask request a little while ago that I got halfway through typing and like a total moron deleted it by accident.

Last time I ever type the first draft on Tumblr instead of an outside app, which I should have known better anyway but here tf we are

It was for headcanons for OPLA Sanji with a plus-size/heavy set reader, which hits home for me because I've always had severe body image and dysmorphia issues. I usually write characters that look absolutely nothing like me as a form of escapism. Don't want to go into detail or get too personal because it's still very much an issue for me, but I still enjoyed writing this up. Sanji is so sweet and I feel like he would just be the most supportive ever.

Okay lemme get this posted before I melt into a stinking puddle he's just so adorable I can't 🥹❤️

OPLA!Sanji X Plus-Size AFAB!Reader

Headcanons

Possible Trigger Warnings: Body Image, Self-Esteem Issues

NSFW

Look, it's Sanji. You could paint yourself purple and decide you now identify as a Martian, he would still adore you and incessantly shower you in compliments and affection.

He cannot stomach the thought of you being self-conscious about anything—to him, you're the most beautiful being to have ever walked the planet, inside and out, and he plans on reminding you every moment he has a chance to.

Oh, let anyone make a negative comment about your weight or your appearance in general—if he finds out, the offending party is going to end up with a swift kick to the head and potentially left in a coma.

No one, absolutely no one insults his beloved. Not without consequence.

He's going to support you in whatever you want to do...though he honestly might be a little indisposed if you decide to go on a diet. Partly because it will limit what he can cook for you, but largely because he would much rather you feel as comfortable and confident with yourself as you deserve to.

And he's going to make damned sure you know that you don't have to change for anyone else; it's your decision to make and yours alone, and if anyone else dares to put their two cents in...well, swift kick to the head, coma, etc etc.

You're always happy to test any new recipe that he creates so he absolutely loves cooking for you.

He loves cooking with you even more...though he's going to be thoroughly distracted, because he can't keep his eyes off you. 

Or his hands. He adores every last inch of you, but particularly your your ass, your hips, your thighs. 

He'll grab you by your hips and tug you flush against him, pull you into a slow, playful kiss.

Slip his hands down to squeeze your ass, either lift you onto the nearest surface or pull you down onto his lap to feel your thighs wrapped around him.

He could absolutely suffocate between your thighs and die the happiest man alive, pull you right down onto his face and not relent until you're both gasping for air.

The sight of you riding him makes him weak—especially on his knees with your legs wrapped around him, where he can bury his face in your chest and trail his lips and his hands over every part of you he can reach.

And he could easily spend all day in bed just cuddling with you, brushing kisses across your body, murmuring against your skin how absolutely perfect you are and just worshiping every inch of you.

He will devote every moment of his time to making sure you feel like the work of art he sees you as.

#opla #opla sanji #one piece sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #one piece headcanon #opla headcanon #headcanon #one piece

[astrobolical]

What In “Hell” Is Bad - Limited L-Grade Banner “Guide”

Note: Now available on android as well! Unsure of any differences. I may go through and update this later with images from my phone rather than my iPad.

Looking for other guides? Check out my WHB Guide List!

Okay… not sure where to start with this one other than it’ll be nice and short. However, this is the first guide I’ve made that I hope I get to change quickly.

To start though; new L-Grade Devils to pull, and pretty, blood-covered versions of Leviathan and Beelzebub. I currently do not have them, however, so I will be unable to show their skill/ultimates at all. I’m not willing to pay for it, though, despite that I do spend money on this game… but yeah.

What’s this all about?

PrettyBusy has given us a brand new temporary banner to showcase their new devils and artifacts, basically. (With some added drama, but we’ll get to that.)

Get Leviathan (Bloodshed) or Beelzebub (Bloodshed) guaranteed within 220 pulls.

Use the new item “Solomon’s Seal” to pull (50 Rings for 1 Pull, 500 for 10 pulls)

DO NOT pull on the standard banners for these devils! Right now they’re only available on this one

The pity (220) is absurdly high, and I’ll get to why soon

You can also get two new artifacts from this new banner.

Wing-ripping Sword

“The wearer’s HP and ATK SPD increases by 20%. If equipped on Leviathan (Bloodshed), has a 30.00% chance of immediately killing the enemy with under 15% HP he hits with a normal attack.”

Cracked Sunglasses

“Upon an accurate hitting of a normal attack, recovers as much HP as 4.00% of HP of the wearer. If equipped on Beelzebub (Bloodshed), recovers 100% HP upon using skill.”

Both really good artifacts! Especially for the new devils. If you have the seals for it all.

What? What’s Solomon’s Seal?

This is the unfortunate part— and it wasn’t properly communicated from PrettyBusy. We knew the new currency was coming, but not the means to get it.

This is only purchasable with real money.

There is four purchasing options, and none of them seem overly well priced? Let’s go over that though. We get 50 Seals for the update (1 Pull).

Prices for Solomon’s Seal Packages:

241 Seals - $11.99 (4 Pulls)

717 Seals - $49.95 (14 Pulls)

1,312 Seals -$59.99 (26 Pulls)

2,200 Seals - $99.90 (44 Pulls)

Just looking at them, it’s like… okay? But thinking about the pity, and the 0.63% chance to draw an L-Grade from the temporary banner, it’s not great.

Assuming you don’t get lucky, and you go all the way to 220?

You would need to buy the $99.90 package around 5 times. Which is ~$500. Being real, you’ll usually get them before pity, but there’s four things to get through this banner if you want everything. That’s a lot of chance.

Why is this not good, though?

Because there is no free-to-play alternative.

These seals are only obtainable in the shop, as I said before. It’s not the first game to do this, and won’t be the last. It’s not the end of the world, either. But it’s not great or motivating to the ftp players or community. I’m not going to keep ragging on this, though.

If you have an issue with this, contact PrettyBusy POLITELY. Not with anger, or profanity. Be nice.

So… I can’t get them?

You can!

Just not now, unless they change how this works. When this banner is over (Nov 14, 2023) they’ll be added to the Standard Banner to pull like all the rest.

Oh! There is one more thing to add!

Story Prologues

On the bottom left of the banners you’ll find story prologues you can read to get an idea of why the boys are bloodied up. Just click the circular icon of the one you want to read!

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb prettybusy #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad? #whb Beelzebub #whb leviathan #~Astro Guides #Seriously do not send hate to prettybusy #be nice everyone #even if they don’t change it it’s not the end of the world #they’re going to standard

[bobluvbot]

bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy! 

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

-

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “​​Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ��We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

#rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #it’s maverick’s fault

[2af-afterdark]

Leviathan’s Curse

As I played chapter 5, especially toward the end when you get the flashback to his childhood, I couldn't help put pay attention to the game showing us the curse laid upon Leviathan that explains his actions far too perfectly. Now, I don't mean a literal curse (although his beauty seems to be its own curse given how the angels treated him because of it). I am talking about the metaphorical curse placed upon him from the moment he was taken by Heaven. More specifically, the moment he escaped to Hell.

Spoilers for chapter 5 below

87 was his number. Not a name, but a number. He knew nothing of Hell or other devils aside from the other children trapped around him. His only experience in life -- at least the experience he could remember-- was the cruelty of angels toward him and his friends/peers. These were his only friends and the people who supported one another through an experience worse than death as the angels experimented on them.

Then, one day, when a fire starts in the lab keeping these young angels captive, 87 gets the opportunity to escape... or rather, he is forced to escape because the other children trapped with him can tell he is special and they are doing all they can to get him out of there and make sure Leviathan survives.

They will not allow him to stay with them and risk dying. He is the one person who must live, even at the cost of everything else.

As he is leaving, they all request that he go out and live for all of them; to have the kind of life they know they never can.

That's his curse.

It was the innocent wish of children who knew they were about to die and was partially said to try and motivate 87 to leave like they wanted and give him the will to live, but it is burned into Leviathan’s mind even now.

They were all one another had -- children relying on one another to survive -- and they died for Leviathan. They sacrificed themselves, refusing to let him stay behind to help them the way he wanted or escape with him because they had to ensure he got out at the cost of everyone else. In order to uphold their memory, he has to fulfill their wish to live on for them.

His life is also their life. His experiences are their experiences. He has to live the best life vicariously for them because that was the wish they made and is his last memory of the most important people in his life. Everything he is must be the best, because the people that died for him deserve the best. He is the best because he is their living memory.

We could also say it's the reason he is so stringent in his values of eliminating any threat to Hell, no matter how small or improbable. His friends died for him in order to get him back to Hell, so he will ensure that it is safe no matter what. He will not let their sacrifice be in vain.

In his Bloodshed card, we also see that Leviathan keeps empty [symbolic] graves for his dead friends. However, when these graves are destroyed, he says that the graves are empty and it doesn't matter if they are destroyed because he can always rebuild them later. But the graves to him are a form of atonement. The graves don't matter because Leviathan is their true grave and living memory. He is the one that lives for them. He made a kingdom for them; one that would have accepted them if they had been born there. He visits their graves every year. They are mythologized through him and their memory lives on as long as he does.

[Unfortunately, I have hit the Tumblr image limit as I am typing this section up, so I can't fit the screenshots, so you will have to decide if you trust me or not on this point]

On a more personal interpretation, I also think that this is why Leviathan wants neither "twisted hatred" nor "unconditional worship". He has known both. Hatred hurt him and made his life worse than death, worship got his friends killed (remember that they willingly died because they could sense he was special. In a way, he was already their king and they worshiped him).

He wants a partner who expresses something more pure than unreasonable, unexplainable emotions. He wants someone to express genuine feelings towards him rather than irrational ones that seem to control their view of him.

I think it's also the reason that he is annoyed at Morax at the end of his bloodshed card; Morax is willing to die for Leviathan in order to heal him. Leviathan has already seen enough of people dying for him.

I also think it makes it very interesting that his citizens wear nooses. They say they wear them because, on a literal note, they will hang themselves if Leviathan should ever die and, as symbol, that same noose is meant to show that there is someone (+Leviathan) they are willing to fight to the death for. The mythology surrounding his escape is so prevalent that it seeps into the entire culture of his land and its people.

He doesn't want people to die for him, but every single citizen of his kingdom is willing to die in his name. It puts him in a position where his life is the center of everyone who he meets. His Bloodshed Victory (2) line is "As long as the devils of Hades are behind me, I never lose" because he cannot afford to allow more people to die in his name. They can die, of course, just never for him.

#what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #whb theory #whb spoilers