#i just think that. Ok wait. Is this a safe space? i’m not putting this into their tags so im gonna act like this is a safe space

[sometimesanalice]

California Dreaming

Summary: At sometime past 4am, the last thing you would have ever expected was to receive a call from Bradley Bradshaw. But time is a funny thing it feels like it might be running out.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.6K

Warnings: angst and a bit In-N-Out slander

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on its own!)

You’re pulled from the light sleep you’d just barely managed to slip into by the sound of your phone ringing.

Although you weren’t too sure if your mind was playing tricks on you again. And in that liminal space between awake and asleep, you didn’t trust yourself to know the different anymore. Sleep and you haven’t been on the best of terms over the couple of months, and you had the dark circles under your eyes to prove it.

Your boss had told you about the chatter he’d heard about a position opening up soon at the West Coast office. It was an opportunity that would be perfect for you, minus the fact it would involve uprooting your entire life and moving across the country. You still hadn’t given him an answer yet whether he should put you forward for it or not. But you’d taken to sleeping with your ringer on just in case you were needed for anything, not wanting to close the door completely. And you’d woken up in a panic more than once thinking you’d slept through an emergency call, only to see absolutely zero new notifications.

Just when think it might have been another stress induced fluke, it goes off again.

Bleary eyed, you scramble to reach it. Wanting to silence it to not wake up your boyfriend from his more-peaceful-than-yours slumber. Only half-consciously noting it’s sometime past 4 AM.

However, it’s the name splashed across the screen that makes your heart stop.

𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗪

You sit straight up, the crisp white sheets your boyfriend preferred pooling around your waist.

“Bradley?” You don’t even remember hitting the green button before the phone was up to your ear. “Bradley? Are you ok?” The words come out a sleepy slur all jumbled together by your sluggish tongue.

He’d texted you when he landed back on US soil; a silly selfie with crinkled bag of McDonalds in his hand and the American flag in the background. It had made you grin like an idiot when your phone had lit up with it.

You knew that he had been called back to Top Gun, but that was as much as he’d been able to tell you.

With the time difference, it makes it the hour too early for you, but also too late for him. He should be asleep right now. But you know Bradley, he wouldn’t be calling right now unless it was about something important.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I know it’s late there,” Bradley apologizes. “Or early, I guess.”

Tired. He sounds so tired.

You didn’t doubt he was still probably fighting the jetlag that came with being in San Diego after living in Japan for the last year and a half. But it was the weariness in his tone that had you concerned.

“But you’re ok?” you press. You needed to hear it.

“I…” he pauses, then sighs. “Yeah, kid. Everything’s fine.”

You blow out a relieved breath, rubbing at your heavy eyes.

“Good. That’s good,” you nod, reassuringly. Not that he can see you.

He is safe. He is ok. That’s all that matters to you.

Jack groans your name. “Seriously?” The word drips of exasperation and annoyance.

You wince. Less at its sharpness, but more at the feeling like you can’t seem do anything right lately.

You and your boyfriend have been together a little over two years now. You have a comfortable life together in Boston, nice even. But you shook the snowglobe of your relationship when you’d first mentioned the possibility of a promotion and moving, and it still felt like you were waiting for the remainders of all those stirred up flakes to settle back down.

“Give me a minute, Bradley,” you whisper into the phone, “Don’t hang up.” Your voice is so quiet you’re not even sure he heard you.

You turn towards your boyfriend, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but he’s already rolled over away from you.

A literal cold shoulder.

Your eyes trace over the exposed skin of his back. It’s dark, but you could point out where every freckle is on him with bullseye precision. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he knew you as well.

Like when he’d bring you red roses, a flower you’ve never felt one way or another about. You’d tell yourself it’s the thought that counts, that it’s the gesture that matters. But for as many times as you’ve bought your favorite flowers yourself and displayed them on the coffee table in your shared living room, Jack has never once brought them home for you.

It made you wonder sometimes if he even truly wanted you, if he cared enough to pay attention. Or if he was just content in the fact that you’d be there.

And then you’d feel guilty for even thinking that in the first place.

But you didn’t just break up with someone over flowers.

Or the way he always seemed to make plans for you with his friends without ever asking you first. Or the way he was never more attentive to you until the two of you were in front of a group.

There’s a sliver of moonlight peeking through the edges of the blinds of your bedroom. A set of curtains would have solved the issue, but you’d never been able to get Jack on board. It was something you there thankful for now as you tiptoed out of the room with just enough light to make sure you wouldn’t trip over anything.

You ease the door gently closed behind you, feeling some of the tension melt from your body.

“Ok, I’m back,” you tell your best friend.

“I take it we woke up Jack?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, padding towards the black leather couch in the living room. You fight back the hiss that wants to be released when your bare thighs touch the ice-cold material. The October chill had a way of sneaking in everywhere. “He’s got a big pitch presentation on Friday,” you say, feeling like you need to explain, “So he’s just a bit on edge right now.”

Bradley makes a noncommittal sound, something close but not quite like a disapproving rumble. You distract yourself from reading into it too much by turning on the lamp on the side table to its lowest setting. A dim glow illuminating the living room.

“Tell me, how’s California?” It’s a pivot. You know you’re trying to smooth things over; you’ve been doing a lot of that lately.

“Sunny.”

You snort and roll your eyes.

“It seems you left good jokes back in Japan,” you tease. You pull your knees up to your chest and reach for your favorite soft knit blanket, tucking it around you. “Be honest, how many things did you forget to pack this time?”

Bradley groans your name. This time you smile.

“I had to take scissors to my favorite pair of Levi’s, because I didn’t bring any shorts for the beach.”

Picturing the pained look on his face as he desecrated his favorite jeans nearly sends you into a fit a giggles. But out of respect for the fallen and your best friend’s feelings you press your lips together, the corners pulling up on their own.

You can’t resist lightly teasing him though, “Beach jeans? That sounds like a choice.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Bradley says, solemnly. The drama queen.

“Is there someone who saw you in them that I could bribe for some new blackmail material?” you ask. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my hands on anything truly juicy.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, kid, but I looked damn good in them.”

This time you don’t hold back the laugh, only muffling it with a hand over your mouth when you realize that your boyfriend could probably hear you through the closed door.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Give me some time and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll make some space in my Bradshaw Blackmail folder in the meantime.” Bradley’s warm chuckle in your ear makes the room feel less cold. “So what else have you been up to?”

“We haven’t had a ton of down time, but I did hit up an In-N-Out with Natasha the other night.” That was a name you were familiar with. You’ve never met Bradley’s fellow aviator and friend, but you were happy he had someone with him there that he was close to. “It was the same one I took you to when you came to visit after I finished Top Gun the first time.”

It was a fluke of fate that you’d been sent to the West Coast office for some training around the time that Bradley was on leave before being sent back to his squadron. The overlap was only for a few days, but the two of you had made the most of it.

“Who knew you were such a sentimentalist?” You lean your head back against the couch.

“It’s the closest one to base,” he justifies, “Although, you’ll be happy to know their milkshakes are still trash.”

You grin. “Hey, I never said they were trash. That was all you, Bradshaw.”

You’ve only been there the once, but it had been fun getting to experience it with him for your first time. He’d ordered more than enough food for two people, making sure to get some of the more classic not-so-secret menu items for you to try. And the Neapolitan shake had been fine, but the ones from the ice cream shop in your hometown where Bradley had had his first job were much better.

“Your face said otherwise,” he bats back.

You hum noncommittally, not wanting to concede. It was more fun for you this way, even if he was right. Not to mention no one knows how to read your face better than Bradley does.

When you don’t argue, he continues, “There’s even a rumor going around that they might want to keep some of us around longer. Like they’d form a new squadron that would be stationed here.”

You perk up, “In San Diego? You could be there permanently?” Between his deployments and moving around from base to base, you don’t think he’s been in one place for more than two years since he went to UVA. “That would be amazing.”

“Yeah, it really would,” Bradley agrees, he sounds hopeful, “But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

‘Hope for the best, but expect the worst’ was the motto he seemed to live by. He’d had the rug pulled out from underneath him more times than anyone else you knew.

The two of you are quiet for a moment.

You don’t want to push him into talking about whatever the reason is that he’s called so early in the morning. But no matter how many jokes you trade with him, it’s still in the forefront of your mind. And try as you might, you can’t shake that feeling of unsettledness that was resting heavily on your chest.  

Outside your living room window, the streetlights are bright against the dark sky.

You’ve told him more times than you could count that he could call you any time, but Bradley being Bradley has always made it a point to call during hours that were convenient for you, even if that meant he was still up at some ungodly hour.

But that was so him, always putting everyone else ahead of himself.

With the confidentiality that goes hand in hand with his job, you know he can’t talk about the specifics. It was something you were used to after nearly a decade of Naval service behind him.

You nibble on your lower lip, weighing your words.

“How’s it been with…” You trail off, but you know he knows who you’re referring to. You run a hand up and down your calf, trying to warm up quicker.

Mav? Pete? He’d been Captain Mitchell the last time you’d seen him back when you were in high school, you weren’t sure what his rank was now.

Mav has always been the number one topic on Bradley Bradshaw’s No Fly List. The few times you’ve dared to bring it up in the past had been shut down quicker than you think he could probably fly his jet.

Bradley told you last week in a text that had simply read He’s here. You didn’t even have to ask who he was. It had been just as much of a shock to you as you imagined it probably was for him seeing the man who had derailed his dreams when everything else in his world had already fallen apart.

It was a story you’d always thought there had been more to, but between the two of them you’d always be Team Bradley. That’s how it was supposed to be for best friends.

You can feel Bradley mulling over his answer. “It’s been… motivating.”

The way he says it you can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. And maybe he doesn’t even know himself.

You sit up straighter on the couch. “Oh?” you say, casually. Neutrally. Not wanting to let your inflection to color Bradley’s response.

Their reunion has been a long time coming, you just wished you could be there for him with this the way he’s always been there for you. Not just on the phone, but there by his side.

Bradley sighs again, it’s heavier this time. Like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s probably roughly running his hand down his face, the way he always does when he’s really, truly frustrated. Like he’s trying to free those too big feelings from trapped beneath his skin.

“I’m flying with him for the first time in my career. I want him to see why I’m here. I want to show him.” The anger, the hurt rings though loud and clear. But so does the determination. “These patches I’ve been called back are the best of the best that there is. And I’m one of them, kid. And I got here on my own, without him.”

You wait to see if he is going to continue or not, wanting to give him the space to talk through his feelings, but he’s gone quiet again.

“You’ve worked so hard for this, Bradley.”

“It was all I ever wanted,” he says, his voice rough, “To be like them.”

Like Mav. Like Ice. Like his dad.

You’d been there for the fallout. He’d been crushed when he didn’t get to go to the Academy, the self-destruction that followed had been hard to watch. You’d seen the way he had to pick up the pieces of his life. The way the boy had quickly had to become a man. Every choice Bradley has made since then has been with one purpose in mind.

He’d set out to be a Naval aviator and he’d achieved it.

“You should be so proud of yourself,” you say, softly.  “I know I am.”

You imagine Mav is proud too, but you don’t say that part out loud.

After all, he practically helped raise Bradley- in his own way.  Always calling whenever he could. Sending presents. Spending his leave time with the Bradshaws. They’d been a family.

“Sometimes-” Bradley cuts himself off, trying to collect his thoughts. You can almost feel the tormented whirlwind of them through the phone. “Sometimes,” he starts again, “There are moments, when I see him fly- it’s crazy shit that no one but him can do- and I forget. Just for a second. But then I remember and it’s like I’m eighteen and feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut all over again.”

Your stomach twists in the same way it always does when you’re reminded of that rough period in time when the two of you were just teens. And now that you’re older, your ache even more for the boy whose whole world was so turned upside down by the one person he thought would never let him down.

“When we’re flying together, I’m reminded how it could have been. How it should have been,” he corrects himself, roughly. “I thought I was fucking over it. It’s been fifteen years, kid. And I’m pissed at myself because he should be nothing to me, I shouldn’t care what he thinks.” His voice is a hoarse rasp. “Why can’t I get over it?”

It’s times like this where you can feel every mile between the two of you. Every inch of space in your long-distance friendship. And it chafes at you that all you can be is an ear for him to vent to rather than a shoulder for him to lean on.

“There’s no version of this where it wasn’t going to be tough. And I don’t think you trying to brush off who he was to you, like none of that mattered, is going to make this any easier for you,” you tell him. “Not with the history the two of you have. And you can’t punish yourself for having feelings about it.”

“I told him no one would mourn him if he burned in.” He all but blurts it out.

Your suck in sharp breath and you shake your head in disbelief, “Bradley, you didn’t.” There’s no hiding the shock in your voice.

You know there’s an unspoken code of conduct between aviators from the things you’ve picked up from the way he’s talked about his career and fellow Naval officers over the years. That when everyone’s lives are so dependent on each other to look out for one another, there were certain things you didn’t joke about. Things you didn’t throw around, not even in the heat of a moment.

“Shit, shit,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. 

You don’t know what to say to him. It’s silent in your darkened living room. The only sound is of his affected breathing over the phone.

You can’t keep dancing around things with him anymore tonight. He cracked open the door, but now you’re the one pushing through it.

“Bradley, what happened?”

His voice is strained when he speaks again, “We had a couple accidents during training a few days ago- no one was hurt.” He is quick to clarify, and you know it’s for your benefit. “It was a bird strike and they had to eject, but they were cleared to fly the next morning.” It hits too close to home all the same. You don’t worry about anyone the way you worry about Bradley. “Mav found me in the Ready Room later that night, and it was just the two of us alone for the first time since everything happened. He was talking to me like I was the kid he’d helped raise, instead of the one he’d fucked over. And then all that anger came rushing back. So I did what I always seem to do, I went for all the things that I knew would hurt him the most.”

You squeeze your eyes tight in sympathy. You’ve been on the receiving end of Bradley’s sharp tongue before. You’ve never held it against him, but you’ve also never forgotten the way his words sliced straight through you.

“I knew it was fucked up as I said it, but in that moment it felt good to hurt him the way he hurt me,” Bradley says, quietly. Every word feels chewed on, like they’d be covered in indents of his teeth. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look in his eyes, kid. I really fucked up. It’s been eating at me ever since.” He pauses and clears his throat. “I hate that part of myself. I hate that I said that to him, regardless of the shit we’ve been through.” His voice is pinched, tight. “My mom would be so disappointed in me.”

The guilt in his voice is unmistakable and it's a confession you can tell that takes a lot out of him. No one holds on to regrets- or grudges- like he does. Even if the one he’s holding it against is himself. You know this is going to be something he’ll carry around with him for a long time to come.

But it is the way he stumbles over the mention of Carole that cracks your heart open.

You had grown up adoring her. She’d been lightning in a bottle. Her smile was always the brightest in the room, and her laughter always made people stop to look wanting to be in on the joke too. There was no one quite like her.

And after she died, you’d mourned that loss too. You still carried the evidence of that love with the scar issue on your heart. But for Bradley, that was a wound that no amount of time would ever fully heal for him. Forever a reminder of who wasn’t there.

He’d already lost so much. First, his dad. Then his mom. And now with his uncle.

Bradley had told you about Ice and his passing. You knew they had come to an understanding in the after of everything. It was a relationship held together by a monthly phone call or two, and a dinner invite whenever Bradley was in town. He’d called you during one of his breaks on the morning he found out, troubled because he didn’t know he’d even been sick.

Just more time missed with someone who had meant something to him.

You didn’t want him to regret saying those harsh words without the chance to make amends. You didn’t want him to miss out on any more time with people who wanted to be there for him. You didn’t want him to shoulder around that pain and resentment anymore. A decade and a half of it was more than enough to carry that around. You didn’t want him to forever push away the one person who probably cared for him just as much as you did.

“So apologize,” you gently urge him. “Talk to Mav and apologize. For him and for you.”

He sighs, heavily, “It’s not that simple.”

Gone is the quiet girl in her dark living room. You want him to hear you. “It really is though, Bradley. Tell him. Pull him aside after class or get there early. Or take him to that bar on the beach you told me about and buy him a beer. Don’t let this be a thing you can’t take back. You can still apologize.”

“I-I don’t think I can. There’s not enough time for that now.” His words are stilted.

You feel your eyebrows pinch in confusion, “Aren’t you guys there for a couple more weeks?” He doesn’t answer you right away and you feel a chill drift across you, even under your blanket. “Does that mean you’re shipping out soon?”

“It’s why I called.” There’s something more serious in his tone, you’re talking to the Naval officer now. “We got the orders, we ship out tomorrow. Or later today, technically.”

There’s a swooping sensation in your stomach and it feels like the floor has fallen out beneath your feet.

“Goddamn it, Bradshaw. Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Your voice wavers.

“I know, I probably should have.” At least he has the good sense to admit it. “I just wanted to talk to you, like normal. Although we didn’t get very far before I derailed the conversation,” he says, self-deprecatingly. “Do you think you can give me a few more minutes of normal, kid?”

You know there’s not much you can ask, and even less than he can tell you. You’re surprised you even allowed to know this much.

But you don’t need a dossier of confidential government information to tell you that whatever he’s being sent to do is dangerous, because you’d be able to read even the most redacted version of Bradley Bradshaw. You’d known something was off from the very moment you’d seen his name lighting up your phone.

You don’t want him to feel your anxiousness, you don’t want to add to whatever else he’s currently going through. Bradley called you because he wants to let his mind relax. So if he wants normal, you can give him normal. You can give him as much as he wants, as much as he needs.

“I’m sorry for making fun of your beach shorts.”

Bradley huffs a soft laugh, “No, you’re not.”

“You know,” you muse, fighting to keep your tone light and airy, “I haven't played hooky in a while and I have some miles to use before the end of the year.”

“You want to come out here?” The suggestion works just like you hoped it would, he sounds less troubled than before.

“I could use some Vitamin D and a milkshake. Do you know a good place to make it worth my while?”

“I might. It depends on your opinion is about Neapolitan shakes though.” Your nose scrunches up on its own. “Are you making that face, kid?”

“No,” you reply too quickly.

“Liar.”

You smile to yourself. “I’ll even let you pick me up from the airport and you can finally show me that Bronco of yours in person. It only seems fair that I get to see what all the hubbub is about after I’ve spent hours letting you talk my ear off about it: V8 engine this and four-speed manual transmission that.” You do your best Bradley impersonation and earn an amused scoff from him.

He’d bought it right before he’d been sent to Japan. Ice and his wife had been looking after it for him while he was away. Bradley had even documented his reunion with it after landing back on US soil by sending you a video of it with him humming the Peaches & Herb song in the background.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Bradley says. You think he might be smiling too.

It’s all to easy for you to slip into a normal conversation with him. He asks about your mom and stepdad. You don’t mention the possible promotion, but instead tell him about the passive aggressive microwave fish debacle that plagued the entire floor for days.

The two of you talk about nothing in a way that feels like everything. And every chuckle you pull out of him feels like a victory. Your tired eyes flutter shut on their own, with them closed you can almost pretend he’s sitting right next to you, until a yawn slips out of you without your permission.

“It’s getting late, I should let you go.”

You want to keep talking to him, but you can imagine the circles that have already formed under his eyes over the last few days. “You should get your sleep. Rest up, because we have big milkshake plans…and you’re not allowed to stand me up. Got it, Bradshaw?”

“I hear you,” he promises. “Try to stay out of trouble until I get back, kid.”

“No promises.” You feel your lower lip wobble.

“Atta girl.”

You laugh. It sounds a little watery to your own ears, but you hope he doesn’t hear it. You’re grateful he didn’t choose to FaceTime you. It’s probably for the best he can’t see your face, you’ve never been a very good poker player.

“Be safe, Bradley.”

You’ve already decided that you’ll let him be the one to hang up first. You didn’t have it in you to hit the red button before he did.

He blurts out your name. “Wait.”

“I’m still here,” you answer, quickly.

You hear him sigh in relief. “I-You know you’re my favorite, right?”

“I know.” Your throat gets thick and your eyes prickle. “And you’re mine.”

“Yeah?”

Your friendship with him as always mattered the most to you. It wasn’t even a question.

“Of course. I didn’t make very intricate embroidery floss friendship bracelets at summer camp when I was thirteen for just anyone, you know.” You’d spent hours making him one in his favorite colors. He’d worn it until it fell off and then asked for another. “You’re my favorite too,” you repeat, wanting him to hear it again.

“Ok. Ok, good,” Bradley says. He lets out a slow breath. “See you soon for milkshakes, kid.”

“See you soon.” It comes out a reedy whisper.

You stay on the line until he hangs up.

And only when the screen goes black do you allow yourself to give into the emotions that had been surging up inside of you.

With the corner of your blanket, you wipe at the tears that are making hot tracks down your cheeks. There’s a hollowness that has settled in your chest that you don’t think will go away until he tells you when to book your ticket to come and see him.

It doesn’t matter that you remind yourself that he is one of the best at he does. Or that you know he’ll be with other people who are just as good as he is. In all the years he’s been in the Navy, you’ve never once heard him sound that unsure before, and it’s rattled you.

It’s not that you didn’t know there was risk every time he sat in the cockpit of his fighter jet, even if it was just to train. But this was the first time it’s ever felt like he was preparing you for the possibility that you might never see or hear from him again.

You didn’t want to imagine a world with Bradley Bradshaw in it.

He’s never once broken a promise with you, and he wasn’t allowed to start now.

You don’t know how long you sit there in the dark with only your feelings and the sound of the clock on the wall for company.

Your eyes drift towards the closed bedroom door, where you’re sure Jack is sleeping unbothered on a soft mattress between stark white sheets.

It hits you then that he hadn’t come to check on you.

It’s still just as dark outside. Only the little lamp next to the couch offers any light, as you look around your living room.

You’d liked all the exposed brick when you’d first moved in, had imagined all the ways you could soften the apartment with things to make it more cozy for you and your boyfriend. More like the two of you.

But the books on the bookcase had been carefully chosen to fit a neutral color palette, while all your favorites had been moved to the smaller one in the office. Their colorful covers hidden away. The spot where you thought some kind of landscape painting could have gone, had a photograph of a sepia-toned city hanging there instead. It was still art, but it was the kind of thing that had been made to disappear into the background.

You keep waiting to see a piece of yourself reflected in the room, some mark of you that had been left behind in the home you live in, but other than the black and white striped rug that had been too good of a deal to pass up on at a store with a no return policy, none could be found. You didn’t see any of yourself there at all.

You thought that you’d been making compromises, but it’s dawning on you that all along really what you’ve been doing is making concessions. A one-sided partnership. When all you ever wanted was to share a life with someone.

Earlier you found yourself making excuses to Bradley, but now it felt like something you weren’t sure you wanted to look past.

You are tired.

And not because it’s sometime around 5 AM now. You’re already well past the start of a new day.

You’re tired of being the one to trying to make something work.

You’re tired of being the one who always makes a genuine effort.

You’re tired of red roses.

Maybe people did end relationships over flowers. Or the art on the walls.

Grabbing your phone, you open your email ignoring all the messages that are already waiting for you, and start typing out a message. When you’re done, you read it over a couple of time before sending it off to your boss. The whoosh that follows as it bounces off the exposed brick in the quiet living room feels like progress.

You didn’t want to miss out on any more time either.

Not with the people who mattered the most to you. The people you mattered the most to.

Leaning over the arm of the couch you turn off the lamp and stretch out to get comfortable on the cushions underneath you. You tuck a throw pillow under your head and drape the blanket over you.

From this angle, you can almost pretend the city lights look like stars.

Your alarm is already set, and if you’re lucky you can doze a bit longer before it will go off all too soon.

But it’ll ok if sleep doesn’t find you.

You’re already California dreaming.

Who gave me permission to do this to myself?! Oh my heart. Don't mind me, I'm just in my angsty era. Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed these two, you can read their story from the start here!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction

[fldx2]

#ref #i just think that. Ok wait. Is this a safe space? i’m not putting this into their tags so im gonna act like this is a safe space #actually no i can’t figure out exactly how to write down what i wanna say #anyway this is going in my ref tag for when i am ready to write about the joel/morgan dynamic #and somehow intertwine that with my joel/tyson thoughts #but also joel writing ‘weeeeee’ like hell yeah my whimsical lil guy ☺️ #morgan frost #joel farabee

[dovedewdrop]

Scratch My Back

Masterlist

Joel Miller x reader

word count: 889

Summary: The tide is pulling you under, just like it has plenty of times before. Your husband helps you communicate.

A/N: I’ve been struggling with my mental health & looking after myself for a long, long time and I was getting myself all psyched up to get a shower but I didn’t end up getting in and decided to write this lil thing that I’ve been thinking about for a while! I hope you enjoy it and if anyone out there is reading this and is struggling too, just know that you are not alone and that if Joel Miller were real, he would scratch your back❤️

Also thank you so much for 100 followers🥹🫶🏻 really brightened up my spirits a lil bit💓

Warnings: No Outbreak. Depiction of poor mental health. Sadness. One big loving man (it’s Joel Miller) (Not a warning but I didn’t want it to seem all doom and gloom😅) No use of Y/N.

To Joel, it was just a Wednesday, your day off. To you, the ceiling was caving in. Before he left for work you were sound asleep, your thoughts at bay, laying still against the sand, he placed a gentle kiss to your temple before rolling out of bed. Now that you were awake your thoughts were thrashing against the cliffs, the mental whiplash you were facing ultimately draining your body of all its energy.

You watch the clock on the bedside table blink from one minute to the next. You thought about all if the things you should probably be doing; showering, tidying the house, preparing that home cooked meal you’d been promising your husband for over a week but all you could do was slip in and out of sleep, that was the safe option, the one that would keep you somewhat sane until he returned. You didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want to text him those three words because you knew he would stop everything for you, everything would be put on hold so that he could soothe you and you didn’t want to add that onto the ever-growing list of things to feel bad about. So you waited.

“Honey?” His voice reverberated off the walls, the sound of his gentle tone floated up the stairs. You didn’t have the energy to shout back, the sound of his boots hitting the wooden steps told you that it wouldn’t be long until he was by your side anyway. He took in the sight of the drawn curtains, the sight of you facing them, still in your t-shirt and underwear and you felt the bed dip behind you, the warmth of his body encompassing yours, his scent filling your scenes. 

“Something happen?” A gentle kiss placed to your shoulder blade, the feeling of his lungs emptying and filling behind your back soothing you. You shook your head, allowing a silence to draw over you both as Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you further back into the curve of his body. He was always so patient with you, so tender.

“Scratch my back.”

Scratch my back, a cry for help. A promise made between two lovers. A rule established when you’d first started dating. Joel knew that you struggled with your mental health, you’d opened up to some extent, brushing him off with a ‘I’m having a tough day but I’ll be ok x’ text in the beginning, even then he gave you your space. 

One week in spring however, everything was not okay. He hadn’t heard from you in four days, no text and definitely no phone calls. At first he thought that this was your way of letting him know you were no longer interested and selfishly, he couldn’t let it end that way. So after days of mulling it over and chewing his bottom lip raw, he drove over to your apartment and that’s where he found you, dark circles engulfing your eyes, threatening to swallowing them whole, hair unwashed, apartment flooded in gloom.

He took a bath with you, washed your hair as best he could. The spring air still had a slight chill to it so he’d made sure your new set of pyjamas were on the radiator ready for bed and he laid with you in silence until you turned into his chest and he felt the wet of your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt. 

“You don’t have to talk to me.” He pressed a kiss into your hairline. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to talk to me, I mean obviously you can, when you feel comfortable and ready to but there is something I want you to do for me baby,” another soft kiss. Your eyes travelled up his face to finally look him in his eyes, those soft brown eyes that made you fall in love with him in the first place. All you could do was give a small nod, you would do anything he asked. “I want you to come up with a word or a phrase,” he continued, “so that when things get bad and you don’t feel like you can talk about it…” he trailed off, his hands drawing shapes up and down the length of your spine.

“Like a safe word?” He let out a huff of air at that, a small smile adorning his face.

“Yeah, kinda like a safe word, so I know that you’re safe,” his palm came to rest on your cheek, thumb cupping your jaw, “up here,” and his fingers tapped gently on the side of your temple.

“Scratch my back,” It was soft, the way it came out, tears threatening to spill over, “because if you promise to scratch mine, i’ll always scratch yours.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling then, the last thing you wanted was for Joel to see you like this and to become his burden, but the way he’d shown you such care and compassion made your head feel a little less foggy, you wanted to promise that you could do that in return, that it wouldn’t just be him constantly looking after you.

“Oh sweet angel.” Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks now, pressing a light kiss to your nose and then your lips.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #dovedewdrop writes

[dreamwritersworld]

The chore. (Sully family x reader)

hey! this is my first story so bear with me this is gonna be a slightly sad one 💕 also this does have scenes from shows i definitely was inspired by and used some of the situation to go based off of the story :)

Being the overlooked sibling was a difficult role to hold. Only time I was ever acknowledged was when I was constantly being yelled at and told what to do even if it wasn’t my fault. I am the twin of lo’ak but with his crazy antics it just makes it even harder to get the approval of my father.

I had to teach myself everything. Observing others actions and having to figure it out. Even with the sly compliments I’ve received, my parents just brushed it off. As you can imagine it only got worse when I got older but when Tuk came it was like a light was brought to me. I was always distant with my siblings no matter how hard I tried to just have a relationship with them they were so tight I couldn’t find any space for me to be included. Dad constantly held me at a higher role saying “y/n you need to be strong! what don’t you get? stop being so reckless and bringing your siblings into things.” Majority of the time I was yelled at for things that weren’t my fault, I just was caught in at the wrong time or blamed for not watching them. It all didn’t seem fair. It was not fair.

I notice how my parents treated me differently from my sisters and to say it didn’t hurt is a complete lie. It hurts all the time, constantly being put on the back burner hurts. Even Lo’ak and Neteyam got off easier than me. I don’t know why my father holds so much resentment to me or why he puts me to the side like I’m a stray but it wasn’t only him I’m silently mad at, it’s my mom too. Why? How could she sit there and witness it , not see it. I can’t even be fully upset I just must sit there and smile and just try better or as dad says “you need to start using your brain and do better, for THIS family!” I just wish I got the dad my sisters got. I wanted the dad who tended to me and my feelings instead of the dad who told me to suck it up saying it wasn’t ok to cry or show emotions.

Now thinking of it, the only time we talk or well when they talk to me is when they order me around or when dad yells at me. It’s become a daily thing that I take care of Tuk every since she was a baby it became my job. Not that I wouldn’t want to take care of my beautiful sunshine , it’s just keeps me tired sometimes but she’s the only one that truly knows me.

Today I actually have to go look over the war and observe from a far with my brothers but that’s in a couple of hours.

I decided to take a break from practicing and teaching Tuk new things for a quick game of hide n seek. This will only improve her quickness and alertness so it’ll help her. Only it’s been a while since I last saw her run in the forest so I whistled out for her, patiently waiting for her whistle back, something I taught her in order to hear that she’s ok! When I did hear a whistle I looked down and quietly went into the bush to catch her. “THE TICKLE MONSTER IS HERE!” Hearing her sweet giggle kept me strong. I need to keep her safe and it was getting harder to be around when she ran off with our other siblings getting into trouble. It was coming near the time to head with the war party so I hopped on my Ikran and flew to where I had to meet my brothers. We WERE spotting until Lo’ak decided to stupidly go down. Neteyam and I quickly went down for him with zero hesitation and tried to get him to get out. “Lo’ak cmon this isn’t funny I’m not kidding. we have to go. you don’t know what your doin-“ I said trying to stop my brother from doing anything more reckless, that was until we got hit.

All I could hear was ringing , trying to gasp for more air feeling blood rush down my body. I slowly opened my eyes seeing my dad take the boys and hearing Lo’ak “Dad! Dad y/n was with us! We have to get y/n!” He’s leaving. He’s leaving me. Knowing I’m down here. “She shouldn’t have been down there either. She’ll find a way home. We have to go.” In that entire moment my heart shatters. I wanted to just give up right then and there, everything that I’ve feared being true, that he didn’t give a single shit about me. I looked down to my side having a slight gash and my arm having a even larger gash. As I was escaping I can feel everything burn and my entire body fighting to even stay awake until I wasn’t. I decided to just take a break before I’d fall off my Ikran from exhaustion. Once I woke up it was already eclipse so I made my way to the healing tent and decided to just stitch myself up in order to avoid the trouble of pulling anyone out or getting more in trouble.

I never did this before. I mean I have observed and learned from a far since no one wants to teach me but stitching is new. Yelping in pain every once and awhile the needle pierced through my skin but once I was done I was only fueled by anger. So much pent up anger I didn’t even know I let go on for that long, just sitting in the silence trying to calm myself down before having to be yelled at once again for something I tried to fix not even that just that but, for not coming home before eclipse even when my own father left me in pain when I needed him. Actually considering the thought of leaving the forest and finally finding a place I can call home. I had already planned an emergency bag…this isn’t the first time I have had these thoughts, but this might actually be my last straw. Only reason why I didn’t leave was because of my baby sister. My thoughts were soon interrupted.

“Y/n you were ordered to SPOT. LOOK AT THE MESS YOU MADE-“ For a moment, for a slight moment. I actually was gonna take all the hits he sent my way but my anger, frustration towards him. towards his voice. towards his stupid orders. towards everything about him. “I’m. Still. Not. Home. I was injured and YOU left me out there to die.” silence was the only thing there as I stared at my parents resisting ever urge to cry tears of anger something I got used to as a kid being told crying was a weakness and it wasn’t ok if I cried, it wasn’t normal. “I-I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t see you, I-I-“ now hearing the ashamed feeling in my dad’s voice, but I didn’t feel bad because I KNOW he saw me bloody lying on the floor. I KNOW he had enough time. I KNOW he didn’t hesitate to leave me. And I KNOW he’s gonna deny it.

“HOW?! I heard it all dad. I heard Lo’ak calling for you to come back for me. I saw you look at me and you were completely fine in leaving me. You’re a liar and a shitty fucking dad….why tf would you leave me?…You are fucking dead to me.” Hearing my mom cut in “y/n no you don’t mean that!” I looked at her smiled and looked back at my dad “I mean every.fucking.word. You’re dead to me “Dad”. You know I have a lot of regrets…in my life but I gotta tell you Dad being your daughter is at the top of my list.” I took a moment to finally see his emotions…he was crying… to this I scoffed and laughed. “oh now you want to cry? yea you’re just draining. You just like going around to suck the spirit out of everyone.”

I try to stop myself , I try to hold back but the more I do the more bottled up feelings come out “no no y/n i see y-“ anger erupts even more “no don’t say that! Stop saying that! You drained me. And it fucking hurts dad. You. Don’t. Love. Me. You left me. When I needed you! And a real father someone who cares would never throw me to the side the way you did…you always had your favorites. You always blamed ME. It didn’t matter if I was there or not I was the one to blame. You don’t even know anything about me. You don’t care about me. You do not love me.” Tears fall. tears that I didn’t even know I had. So I laugh at them. I witness the regret and guilt rush to my parents head realizing how they truly forgot they even had y/n as a daughter instead of just a baby sitter or someone who just followed their orders. This was the moment they realized something inside their daughter was broken and it can never be fixed.

“I gave you all. Every part of me, I have given to you. Hoping that one day you’d open your arms to me and until that moment I held a patient smile. I know now that, the idea I dreamed of will never happen. Even when I would TRY talking to you, all your ever did was push me away. So while I did everything you asked of me and more. You considered me the chore, the job you didn’t want to do. Don’t worry now, I do not want your excuses because up until you left me to die, you WERE my everything.”

I walked out but not without noticing my siblings on the side I could see the realization hit their faces, realizing that they too forgot they had a sister. The sister that took care of Tuk, handled everything she was dealt with, and more importantly the sibling they also pushed away, the sister they didn’t even want to hear stories about when Tuk was talking. Then I see Tuk my sunshine, I smile taking in her baby face one last time.

Then I rush to “home” to get my bag that I packed, I’ve been waiting for this very moment, just waited for the bandaid to rip. I hoped that a moment like this would never occur, something in my heart broke knowing that it didn’t matter anymore it was bound to happen. I called for my Ikran, crying my eyes out realizing this was really it, and that I would have to tear away from all I knew in order to finally grow and be happy. That was until I felt a tug on my leg stopping me from getting on my Ikran. Tuk. “please y/n don’t leave. Don’t leave me. You have taught me everything please y/n don’t leave home. Or just take me with you.” My heart breaks all over again looking at the child that I practically raised even if she always returned to my parents arms at night or held by them in the evening. She’s the only thing that held me here, my baby sister, my sunshine. “Tuk I see you sister but, I can’t take you with me, I can’t let you leave your home.” I can only hear her heart shatter even more. “No sister. you will take me. your all I need right now. It’s always been us please. I won’t do anything without you.” I look back and forth contemplated for a little and then…agreed. I held her close and wrapped a blanket around her, preparing for the ride.

Again this is my first story so please be understanding! :) hope you enjoyed it 💕

#avatar #sully family x reader #sully family #neteyam x reader #jake sully x reader #avater the way of water #angst #sully family x daughter reader #loak x reader #Spotify

[heartbeat-eras]

Just a little exercise.. right?

TLDR - I’m newly on meds and my heart. Well she doesn’t seem to like them. I did three rounds of 20 squats. After trying to get her to calm down (spoliers she didn’t) I laid down. This caused an immediate extreme drop. I then did a push which brought her into the 60s. I don’t think she threw any pvcs but you be the judge.

————————

If you saw my intro post you would know that I’ve recently been prescribed dexadrine. Dexadrine is an amphetamine that can raise blood pressure and heart rate. In my other post I thought it was high time I tested my Heart’s response to these meds. I know she’s been a lot more poundy and faster than normal but.. I thought I would do some of my own tests.

Firstly was tracking her all night with a chest strap monitor. I followed this up with taking my meds before getting out of bed and waiting for them to kick in. The result was exactly in the small range they said it should be. So my faster rate is clearly the meds and my heart working against gravity.

I’ve been looking into if exercising on meds is safe. There are split opinions if you should do it after / before or if you can do it while medication is in your system. I decided to try a small run. Let me preface this with a couple of years ago I was a runner. My heart always was reactive and fast to exercise but not like what happened here.

So imagine. I’ve put on my workout gear. Taped my Stemoscope to the loudest part of chest and go into the room with the treadmill. I set up my chest strap monitor with the treadmill. Perfect.. she’s beating at 142 and I haven’t done anything. I start the Stemoscope recording. 2 mins standing with her pounding away - not yet exercising. Ok this is gonna be fun. At 2 mins jump on at a brisk walk. She immediately drops to 113 - no there’s not wrong with the monitor. I can hear her. Then she slowly climbs. 117, 124, 131 and back to 142 and beyond. Within 1 1/2 mins we’re at 156. I’m not tired or out of breath but I also know I probably shouldn’t do this for long so I think- ok let’s try max her out. I break into a jog. Nothing like I used to, but a slow recovery run. She’s climbing and fast. Within a short space of time she’s now in the beating at 182 - I usually couldn’t feel beats like this before but I can feel her rocking my chest. I’m oddly out of breath for something I used to be able to sustain for over an hour. I jump off and bend over, trying to catch my breath. My heart thrashing in both my chest and my ears. My head spinning as I try to get her oxygen. I’m watching the number on the treadmill with the little heart next it. It’s not going down. It’s going up. At 187 she peaks and is pounding away. This is 2 mins after ceasing activity. She drop quite quickly.. not this time I guess.

I grab my gear and go back to my room. She’s settled a little bit. She keeps calming down then speeding back up. Down to 151 then up to 176. She’s all over the place like she doesn’t know what she’s meant to do.

Well that’s enough. I need to take some stress off her. I lay down, resulting in an immediate drastic drop to around 100. Finally. The break she needed. I go back to the recording… and we’ll I deleted in my zoned out state.

So this time I’ve recorded some squats. I was only able to get her into the 170s but you can hear just how unconditioned she sounds. This was not what she like pre meds and I will be asking my doctor about this when I see him next (well maybe leave out the constant stething). A part of me is slightly worried about this, whereas another part of me is like…. Oooo well. That’s a fun sound . Damn cardiophile thoughts right?

I hope you enjoy her first try (tech second) at exercise. She would love to hear your thoughts and support. She’s literally pounding in my ears as I share her with you.

#irregular heartbeat #cardiophilia #pounding heart #cardiophile #heartbeat #female heartbeat #exercise heartbeat #tachycardiac #cardio workout

[bettysupremacy]

Hi! How are you? I hope everything is well :) I saw that your requests open and I wanted to request a James Potter fic where the reader is a bit insecure when it comes to romantic stuff because she has never dated anyone so when James and the reader start dating she gets really shy about everything and James helps her feel comfortable with all of it maybe? I hope you like the idea! Thanks in advance :)

hey babe! thank you for the request I hope you like how it turned out

James stands in the bathroom, sink running, caps clicking. The sight and sound is a kind of domestic you’ve never felt before. This freaks you out.

“You wanna pick a movie, dovey?” It’s warped and bubbly from a mouthful of toothpaste, but you understand.

When he’d asked you to spent the night you hadn’t realized the intense bellyache of anxiety you’d get sitting in his bed, in his shirt, in his socks, waiting for him to be finished in the bathroom. If you had, you would’ve backed out.

You’re fingers fumble through his dark blue comforter. His room is so him, it’s a little suffocating. The remotes not here. Blue comforter, tee shirt thrown over his bed, circle framed glasses on a nightstand. His bedside table catches your eye. It’s in there.

You simply cannot open that drawer. You’re already suffocating in the intimacy of his room, you can’t also fall into the depths of his most personal drawer. He notices, wiping his mouth and jogging to the bed.

“Sorry.” He swiftly opens the drawer and tosses you the remote. It lands in your lap with the cushion of his blanket. “You ok?”

“I’ve never done this before.” You frown embarrassed.

“Slept over at my flat?” He breathes out, suppressing a smile. ”God, I hope you haven’t done that. D’be a bit weird, bug.”

You breathe a laugh but it comes out wonky. He frowns. “What’re you worried about?”

“I don’t know.” You whisper. His hands grab yours, thumbs working into your skin.

“Y’don’t gotta be nervous.” He smiles. “We’re just watching a movie is all.”

“And sleeping.” You add. “In the same bed.”

“Sleeping is what you’re worried about?” He teases. “You’ll be unconscious, I think that’s the least of your worries.”

You smile, genuine smile, this makes james proud. “What if I hog the blanket?”

“As long as you’re warm.”

“Stop.”

“What!” He laughs. “As long as my baby’s warm I’m content.”

You shake your head. “What If get too close? I’ve never shared a bed.”

“Baby, if you think that’s a problem..”

“I’m serious.” You give weakly.

“I’m serious! If you mind your personal space I won’t mind mine.”

The stare is silent but the smile on his face has you fighting off your own. He takes his hands back, bringing them up to your face. Rubbing the rough surface of his rugby palms over your cheeks, you lean into the touch.

“Seriously, baby,” he murmurs, “don’t fret it.”

You nod. Letting him take in your face.

Slowly, very slowly, he pushes you back. You almost don’t notice but the way his hands come down to your shoulders brings nerves back into your belly.

“I like when you’re in my personal space.”

He lays on you like a weighted blanket. Though, you can’t feel a weighted blanket breathe. Head in the spongy pillows, your fingers come up and tangle in his curls.

“This is nice.” You mutter.

“See?” You can feel him sigh. “Don’t let anxiety eat you.”

“Okay.”

“There’s nothing to be anxious over, you’re safe.”

“I know.” You mumble again.

He looks up at you. “You getting tired? Should we skip the movie?”

“No, put it on.” Your head shakes as much as it Can laying down. “I won’t fall asleep.”

“You liar!” He affably laughs. He can feel your giggles against his chest. “Can I at least get a kiss before we start the movie and you don’t fall asleep?”

“Mhm.”

The kiss he plants to your lips is warm and sturdy. He sits there for a second, too long to be chaste, to quick to be deep. When he pulls back you’re smiling.

“Y’ready?” He pushes some hair from your face. “You pick a movie?”

“No.”

He groans loudly, dropping back down on you. “What would you do without me?”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james x y/n #james x you #marauders #hp #Harry Potter #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter x y/n fluff

[formereldestdaughter]

ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....

This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.

I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?

(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)

I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.

Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.

And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.

I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.

(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)

I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.

We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.

On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??

So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.

It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.

Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).

But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.

Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?

Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?

#peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games meta #anyway wow this got so long and I literally read it through one (1) time so uhhh sorry if this makes no sense!! #as I was doing my one read through and realized that one of my other thoughts on this is that yeah I can much more easily see the #headcanon that peeta like sells baked goods (probably at cost with no profit) out of his kitchen because that’s much more flexible #and I think that would work a lot better with what like I guess I’d call his psychiatric disability post mockingjay #and how he’d certainly want to take care of Katniss too #like that sort of flexibility makes a lot more sense for him and it’s like. if he doesn’t bake for a few days or however long then it’s fin #it’s not a formal brick and mortar business #it’s just something he’s doing because it’s a way to be involved with people and a way to do something he’s passionate about #without there being waste and while covering some of the costs #and he doesn’t have to like keep books or do payroll or any of the things I can’t see him being very passionate about #as far as like bakery management goes Lmao he can just bake!! #but then I started getting into this whole thing about how that quote-unquote ‘running a business’ like that (informally from your house) #is actually a really common practice for people living in poverty so probably something that Katniss and peeta would’ve been familiar wirh #anyway and then this whole rant about how the emphasis on the brick and mortar bakery often goes hand in hand with #this widespread fandom thing of having a fundamental misunderstanding of how rural poverty works and what it looks like #but then I was too deep into it and said you know what? never mind! and deleted it lmao

[snwosgf]

Lovers rock °❤︎° Yunjin x fem reader

This fluff is kind of inspired by nana (the anime/manga)🤗

contents•.fluff,arguing(not like aggressive tho),kissing,reader is shorter than Yunjin like 5’2 - 5’3.(Yunjin irl is 5’8 btw)

“Yunjin can I sleep in your room tonight” y/n said looking a bit sad “why? did something happen” she asked looking at bit concerned. “I don’t know I just wanna sleep with you tonight”y/n said with a shrug,Yunjin cheeks started to get a little hot after you said this and looked away from you.”Pleeeeeasssse yunnie”y/n said while giving her a hug and softly squeezing her.She looked down at y/n and kissed her head,”sure ig,but don’t stay up to late ok”.y/n always felt a weird feeling in her stomach whenever Yunjin would be a little to worried about her or cared a little to much about her.”Okayyy yunnie”

Y/n and Yunjin had gotten her bed ready for her and y/n to have a “sleepover” but Yunjin felt confused about something.The last time y/n wanted to sleep in her bed was when y/n found her ex gf cheating on her and went into a deep depression.Yunjin noticed how she would never come out of her room and would sleep all day for almost 3 whole weeks,she wanted to give her space but was really worried about her. “Yunjin I’m ok you don’t need to keep worrying about me” “but I have to y/n your so important to me” y/n hated when Yunjin put y/n over herself and it made her feel like shit.Tears were threatening to fall down her face and this made Yunjin pull her into a big hug which only made y/n cry more.”I wish I could make everything feel better y/n”.The way she felt so safe in Yunjin arms made her slowly stop crying and asked Yunjin if she could sleep with her.”Of Course,let’s get you to bed” Yunjin said.

“Yunjin what are you thinking about” “huh?what sorry” her reactions made y/n start laughing.”let’s just lay down” Yunjin put on the wind rises which is one of y/n’s favorite movies(you can put ur fav movie instead I just was watching this when I was writing this) As they were watching it Yunjin couldn’t help but stare at y/n,she’s always had feeling for her but ignored them because she didn’t it to get in the way of there friendship. “Yunjin I like you” y/n just blurted out “what?” Yunjin thought she was hearing things.”I said I like you,like a lot” y/n said a little shyly.”I like you to y/n,like a lot”.she said jokingly making fun at y/n.”wait really” “yes really”. “can I kiss you yun-“ before she could even finish her sentence Yunjin kissed her softly.Y/n slowly moved on top of Yunjin and the kiss became a little rougher.”Yun-nie” “yes y/n” she said while pulling away from her lips. “That was,amazing”. “Yunjin would you be my girlfriend?”. “Hey,I was gonna ask you that”. “Shut up and answer the question Yunnie” . “Yes I’d love to be your girlfriend y/n”she said as she kissed her forehead. ”Now let’s go to bed”. “Okay yunnie”

Not me crying while writing this 😭😭

I hope you guys enjoyed this story 🥺

LOVE YOU GUYSS

#Yunjin #yunjin le sserafim #wlw #gxg #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x y/n #le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim fluff #Yunjin x reader #yunjin x fem reader #Yunjin fluff #snwosgf

[sensei-venus]

Gym Class Hero (1/2)

(Alpha!Johnny/Omega!Fem!Reader/Alpha!Daniel)

(a/o/b Themes, Mentioned Acts of Volence, Scenting/Scent Play, F Receiving Oral, Cum Play, Semi Public sex, Public Sex, Creampie kink, Breeding kink, M/F/M & M/M, Soft Johnny?)

(Not fine edited, we die like that illegal crane kick-)

When she got off the bus age headed right to her locker to put her stuff away. She was even happier to find Daniel waiting for her at the said locker. The past few months had been blissful. She had always thought Daniel LaRusso was cute from the minute she laid eyes on him in the school cafeteria. He wasn't like the other alphas she had met and that made her heart beat a little faster. He wasn't built, not like the more physically active alphas around the school, like the meathead jocks or just random groups of alphas that mauled around the school. He was lanky with a bit of muscle underneath, he was built for speed.

She couldn’t help but smile at him as she opened her locker and shoved her bag into the small space. Closing it she smiled up at the lanky alpha who leaning against the locker next to hers. His own bag was slung over one of his shoulders. His voice was snarky saying “How’s your morning going Doll? You look like you’re in a good mood.” She rolled her eyes at him saying “It’s been great, I woke up early, did my hair, and got breakfast. And get this, I actually got to the bus stop before the bus for once’s!” He looked mildly pleased with her statement. He quickly stood up and ushered her towards one of the other hallways. The two of them walked side by side as they maneuvered through the crowded hallway. Daniel wrapped an arm over her shoulder as he helped her get passed the crowd of students and into a less crowded area. Once they had some actual space, and more privacy, Daniel pulled her off to the side of the hall.

He pressed a little closer to her, his chest to hers, one of his legs brushing in between hers. He smiled down at her, his brown eyes drilling into hers. A split moment later he was dunking his head down into her neck and scenting her. She shivered as his hot breath meet the soft skin of her neck, brushing over her scent gland. She had to stop herself from making a sound as he started to rub against her. Scenting was a completely normal thing, it was natural to scent others, but Daniel never failed to make her red in the face when he started scenting her. She tried her best to scent him back as well. It was a pleasant feeling. She loved being wrapped up in Daniel’s arms, and the way his scent covered her like a blanket made her feel warm and safe. Daniel always smelled like smokey vanilla, more musky and deep than sweet. Just thinking about it made her head spin.

The two slowly pulled away from each other and just stood together in the hallway.

Everything was fine until she felt a stinging sensation in her stomach. For a moment she just subtly rubbed at her belly, trying to make the weird pain go away. It was gone within seconds. Daniel raised a brow at her actions saying “You ok?” She nodded saying “I’m fine! Probably just eat too fast or something at breakfast. I’ll be fine!” She grinned at him. The sound of the first bell made the both of them jump. Daniel rolled his eyes at the annoying sound of the new wave of students that swarmed the once-empty hall. Reader just patted his arm as the two of them quickly tried to usher their way through the crowd.

Things only got worse as the familiar laughter of the cobra gang filled the hallway. Their laughter echoed against the walls. After the all-valley tournament, the cobras hadn’t messed with Daniel too much. They will snicker and laugh in his direction when passing or in class, but they no longer went out of their way to mess with him. The physical assault’s stopped as well and they stopped trying to corner him when they had the chance. Reader wasn’t scared of the cobras, not at all, most of them were just hot-headed alphas. Bobby Brown was nice enough and never bothered her, the Jimmy guy never said much, and Tommy had the laugh of a hyena cackling and laughed at just about everything. Dutch was a hot head that irritated her, he talked even more than Johnny and always had comments that made her blood boil.

Johnny was the one that she was unsure of, and it didn’t help that even the thought of him made her stomach turn again, or maybe it was the new sharp stab of pain that ran through her belly.

She didn’t like the way Johnny smelled, the way it made her heart flutter just as much as Daniel’s scent did. When she first told Daniel about her weird and strange feelings, he was taken aback for a moment. His eyes filled with a bit of jealousy and maybe even a bit of betrayal. She felt horrible about it, she wanted Daniel, not Johnny. She wanted to hate herself for the stupid biological feelings she was experiencing for Johnny. Johnny was a jerk in her eyes, she didn’t even know him that well. The two of them only talked a few times during classes they shared, the ones that Johnny didn’t try and skip. The day that Daniel came to her and said it was ok, that he wasn’t mad about the feelings she was experiencing for Johnny, was the best day of her life. After a long talk, the two of them agreed they loved each other and it was better that they both talk about their feelings, including any feelings toward others. He admitted that maybe he was ok with the idea of Johnny. He was still trying to get over the trauma he faced at the hands of Johnny and his friends, but he could push it off for Reader.

Reader didn’t have time to continue her thoughts on the blond, the pain in her stomach was there again but much worse. She felt like a hot poker was going through her lower gut. She bit the inside of her cheek as she held onto Daniel’s arm. The sound of Johnny and the other boys grew closer until they passed them. She only caught a glimpse of the blue-eyed alpha as they passed. His blond hair was pushed to the side as he looked their way. For a split moment, both Reader and Daniel glanced back at him, all three of their eyes meeting at some point.

It was over before it even started.

Daniel pulled her attention back as he wrapped an arm around her and started to push her down the hall, leaving the blond to watch after them, his own pack pulling him the opposite way.

Daniel’s eyes softened as he chewed on his bottom lip, the two standing in front of Readers first class of the day. He kissed her cheek before saying “Are you sure you're ok? Your scent smells weird, do you think you're getting sick or something? Do you want me to take you home?” reader rubbed at her arm but gave a half smile back saying “Daniel I will be fine, I promise I'll be better by lunchtime. I probably just need to relax. I'll see you later ok? I'll see you at PE if I don't find you at lunch.” Daniel huffed but nodded before watching the omega walk into their class. The bell rang a minute later making him sigh and jog toward his own class. He hoped he wouldn't be too late.

Reader started to regret her decision on telling Daniel not to worry, she should have taken up his offer to take her home. The stomach pain only got worse throughout the class. The pain slowly grew into full-on cramps. Her lower belly felt like it was twisting up. By third period she felt like she was going to puke her guts up. It was hot and uncomfortable. When lunchtime finally came around she wanted to die. She couldn't find Daniel, she felt like crap, and she didn't want to eat.

She sat like that for a while until the clank of something being set on the table made her lift her head to look up. The scent that filled her nose already told her who it was. She raised a brow as the smell of ashy smoke and tart cherry raided her nostrils. For a moment her stomach stopped hurting. Looking up she meets the crystal blue eyes of Johnny Lawrence. For once his blond locks didn’t cover his eyes and the familiar asshole smirk wasn’t plastered on his lips. His scent grew thicker by the minute.

“Eat the pie, you smell like you're going to cry and puke any minute now. Your scent is pumping out like a fucking faucet.”

For a split second, it almost smelt like he was trying to put out a comforting scent to blanket her, in an attempt to calm her nerves.

He was gone within a minute, back to his own table where the cobra’s sat. Tommy was laughing at something and Dutch patted Johnny on the back as he sat back down with his pack. His eyes only glanced back over to her once before going back to his friends.

Looking back at her own table Reader found a single small plate right in front of her. A slice of blueberry pie sat on the plate with a plastic fork. Looking at it with big eyes, she slowly took the fork from the plate and scooped up a portion of the small pie. The moment it hit her tongue she felt ten times better. It was cold. It made her hot belly that continued to cramp cool down. The sweetness made her sigh and her body go limp for a moment. Her body slumped a little on the table as she continued to eat the gifted pie until it was all gone. She used her fork to poke around at the crumbs on her plate until the bell rang. Three more periods and she could go home.

Her next class was PE and she felt lucky she even made it into the locker room in one piece. Her body ached and her head was starting to fog up. She wondered what she could have caught. Was it some kind of food poisoning? By the time she got her gym clothes on she could hardly think straight. Looking around the locker room she found it completely empty. How long had she been in here for? How long did it take her to change? She brushed it off and just headed out of the locker room in hopes of finding someone. Maybe they were out in the gym or out on the field already for soccer or something. Leaving the locker room she found the gym empty and quiet.

A wave of hot pain filled her core and made her face go red. That wasn’t the normal pain she had been having all day, it was new. It wasn’t just her lower stomach that hurt, her womb hurt. It was an unfamiliar feeling that made her want to ball up and hide. Her mind started to fog up even more and her mind was racing. Something in her told her to run, to go somewhere safe, somewhere she could hide. For a second she thought about going back to the locker room, it was safe. No, it wasn’t, anyone could come into the locker room. Her eyes caught sight of one of the old storage closets on the other side of the gym, off to the side next to one of the old meeting rooms the athletic department would use.

Before she could stop herself she was sprinting toward the room. Her brain was still foggy but she smiled at the fact that the door wasn’t locked when she pried the heavy metal door open. She slid into the room and flicked the light on, the giant light flickered overhead as it lit up the room. She quickly shut the door before sitting down. The cramps were coming in wave after wave making her ball up a little. She could feel tears pricking her eyes. Her skin started to feel hot and she knew she was sweating a little. Looking around she found a pile of old blankets from who knows to win. She dragged a few of them over and spread them out before settling down in the middle of the small pile she had made. A few minutes later she was on the verge of tears, she could feel her gym shorts being drenched, and she knew it was from slick pouring out of her hole.

She knew it was from her heat. She had never actually been through a full heat before. When she first presented it was due to a pre-heat coming on. Right after that, she started heat suppressants. She had never actually gone through a full heat before.

Was this what a full-fledged heat was like? Was she going to die? She never read a lot about heats before. If she got through this then she would definitely take the time to read up on it.

Because I’m that moment she felt like she truly was dying.

She couldn’t stop the whimper that left her chest, followed by a sob. She could feel the hot tears flowing down her flaming-hot cheeks. Every tear felt like acid. She squeezed her eyes shut as pain racked her body, she even tried cupping her pussy through her shorts but it did nothing to help with the pain. Slick covered her thighs and started to leak onto the blankets underneath her. The liquid didn’t seem to stop as it gushes out of her with every breath. Every time she let out a shaky breath she felt a new wave of slick fill her panties and shorts. Age couldn’t stop herself from kicking them off after a while, they were completely ruined. The light green fabric was stained, slick causing the material to go from a light forest green to an ugly dark green shade. She tossed them to the side as she tried to curl up into herself once again.

At that moment she didn’t even hear the sound of the metal door being opened and closed. Blue eyes blinked in the shadow of the dimly lit room. They were sharp as they scanned the room, eyes roaming over the half-naked omega that lay on the floor in a ball.

“J-Johnny?”

Her voice was weak as she lived her head towards the alpha. Her eyes were still filled with tears. They slowly lessen as she takes in Johnny’s scent, the warm comforting scent he was pumping out in the lunch room was back. The room was filled within seconds with his scent. It made the burn inside her lessen for a moment, her brain going clear. The blond moved closer and out of the shadows. His own cheeks were flushed against his pale skin. He was shaky as he moved to kneel next to her on the floor. His pupils when blown wide from the smell of her slick, the blue of his eyes slowly becoming hidden. He visibly sniffed at the clearly in pain omega.

His voice was deep “ I was going to skip class when I saw you limp into the locker room. Your scent has been bugging me all day, it's all weird and sweet. It made my stomach bubble all through lunch. I can't believe I was so stupid that I couldn't tell you were going into heat.” he snorted before saying “Clearly LaRusso didn't smell it either. He should have taken you home. That's what a good alpha would have done for their omega instead of leaving them to suffer, and wind up in a storage closet of all places.” at this point he was grinding his teeth. His eyes looked over her.

Reader smiled a little even in her uncomfortable state saying “He wanted to take me home when school started but I said no. I didn’t know my heat was starting, I just thought it was stomach pain. I’m on suppressants, Iv never even had a real heat before.” She hissed and closed her eyes as the pain returned. Johnny stopped himself from trying to move her head to rub at her scent gland.

“I should get someone. Maybe the nurse or something has some emergency suppressants or something, I don’t know how heats work. Can you even stop one?”

“No, once one fully starts you can’t stop it. I’m just going to have to ride it out. Shit, this fucking hurts. Johnny, can I die from this? Fuck Johnny, what if I die from some stupid heat because my stupid pills didn’t work. Johnny what the hell am I going to do-“ her freak out was cut short as Johnny shoved his face into her exposed neck. She chirped out as he rubbed against her sensitive scent gland, her bonding area being bathed in Johnny’s own scent. He moved over her shaking form, pressing his full body and weight onto her. Not in a weird way but in a comforting way, trying to get her to relax against his form. She quickly uncurled from her tight ball and relaxed against Johnny’s muscular body. His breath fanned over her cheek as he looked at her. Their eyes meet.

“Johnny, please touch me.”

“You are with LaRusso, you are his omega. He will literally kill me the minute he smells me on you. That little shit doesn’t scare me, but I respect him enough to not mess with his omega.”

“I promise he won’t be mad, he knows. Please, Johnny, knot me.”

Johnny couldn’t stop himself after hearing her pleas. His tongue lapped at her scent gland and moaned out against her flesh. The sound of her moans and whimper’s filled his ear the fast he moved. His jeans were tight and his shirt felt too hot and itchy at the moment. He hummed at her naked leg and smirked at the friction it caused his hard dick. He was quick to make work of his pants and boxers, throwing them outside the makeshift nest. His cock stood proud and hard, slapping against his abs.

He pulled away for a moment to look down at the Omega underneath him. Half-lidded eyes looked up at him, her pouty lips were soft and raw from biting them. He watched as she huffed and panted out. He watched as her lower belly twitched, the soft belly of an omega was something that made him hard as a rock. Soft hips jerked against him. His eyes lowered and he felt his dick twitch, he could feel the beads of pre spilling down his shaft. He had never smelled slick before in his whole life, it made his mouth water as he got a nose full of the scent. He was basically drowning in it.

He couldn’t stop himself from lowering himself down and stuffing his face into her thick thighs. Her pillow-like thighs were warm and covered in the thick liquid. He couldn’t help but nose at the soft flesh to get a better smell. He didn’t even notice when his hands pulled her leg’s apart and he stuffed his face right in between her legs. His nose bumped against her clit and he felt her clench around him. Hot breath fanned over her sopping pussy. Her folds were drenched in the syrupy fluid. It smelled like heaven between her legs and he couldn’t get enough of it. He felt he was going in slow motion with how foggy his brain was.

Slick flowed down his chin as he pressed deeper into her. He lapped at her lower lips and groaned. Reader whimpered as one of her hands shot down and gripped the blond's golden locks. Her eyes squeezed shut as the alpha worked her over with his mouth. His hot tongue finally found her twitching hole and plunged into her wet heat. All Johnny could hear was the sound of her moans and the wet lapping of his own tongue in her pussy. The faster he trusted his tongue inside, the more slick he drank up. It was thick and hot as it flowed into his mouth. Every gulp of slick made his stomach flutter. He could feel his knot starting to shift in his pants, he could feel the hard bundle of nerves on the base of his shaft start to swell.

One of his hands fell to his lap, rubbing himself roughly through the thick fabric. Stupid jeans. Within seconds he was annoyed with his jeans and made work of his belt and jeans. He grunted out as he pulled his boxers down and let his hard dick spring out, he could feel how it slapped his abs in his hunched-over position. He had long since lifted the omega by the lower body, pushing her legs over his shoulders and holding her pussy to his face. He jerked himself as he moaned into her throbbing pussy. Her toes curled along his back as he continued his assault on her cunt. He tried his best to lick up every drop of slick that flowed out from her hole. His tongue fucked into her faster and harder as he stroked himself. Dick throbbing in his hand, he squeezed at his growing knot.

He was so deep into his own lust that he didn't hear the door open or the sound of shoes squeaking across the hard floor.

He didn’t notice the figure behind him until he felt hot breath fanning over his neck and a tanned hand replacing his own on his dick. The hand stroked along his cock as another hand wrapped around his now swollen knot. A thumb ran over his slit making him moan once again into the wet pussy he had his face buried in. His hands gripped her thick highs as he continued to eat her out.

He didn’t care that the smell of LaRusso was permeating the room now. He didn’t even care that the punk was stroking his dick and sucking at his neck. His scent wasn’t horrible. He didn’t feel like punching him. God his hands were amazing though.

He was so far gone that he almost missed the way Reader locked her thighs around his head. The way she clamped down on his tongue had him growing. Before he knew what was happening she was shaking around him and a hot wave of slick filled his mouth and splashed against his chin. He felt the warm liquid run down his chin and neck. His chest heaved as he was overwhelmed by her scent and slick alone. Her legs and thighs went lax around his shoulders and head. She slumped back onto the floor, panting and shaking. Lowering her to the floor he sighed. He licked his lips of fluid and smirked down at the satisfied omega. Her eyes were half-lidded and wet with pleasure-filled tears.

“Come on Johnny why don't you put that pretty cock in her fat pussy? She's basically begging for your knot.”

LaRusso’s words were teasing to Johnny's ears as they both looked down at the omega.

A minute later LaRusso was yanking Johnny’s pants and boxers down. They pooled around his knees. For a split second, he realized how hard he actually was. His cock was weeping pre against his belly and his balls were tight. He could feel his swollen knot throb. He felt LaRusso move from behind him and scoot over to sit behind Reader. He helped to move her up into his lap, letting her lean back against him. She moaned as his hands moved to rub over her tits before they moved underneath her shirt. He felt her up for a moment before lifting her shirt up over her tits and pushing her bra up. Her boobs spilled out of the shirt. Her nipples pebbled up at the air and Daniel couldn’t help but play with them. His fingers pinching and pulling at them making Reader yelp. He stopped at looked at Johnny, his pupils blown.

He held up and lifted her legs back, making her fold in half. Her whole cunt was spread out, wet and glistening from her own juices and Johnny’s spit. Daniel’s fingers moved to spread the wetness because spreading her open. Her folds open leaving her hole twitching. Johnny looked at LaRusso one more time before taking his dick in hand and quickly guiding the head into the omegas pussy. He grunted and bottomed out, slipping in with no resistance. Reader moaned and her eyes fluttered at the feeling of being so full. Slick trickled from around his shaft.

His thrusts were deep and fast as he humped into the poor omega. His brain was foggy as all e could do was growl out with every thrust. Every time he thrust in he could feel her clench around him. Being inside her was like being in pure ecstasy. She was so warm and wet, it felt like he was being sucked in. Her hands gripped at his arms, her fingernails dug into the flesh of his arms leaving crescents. He grunted as her moans grew louder. Daniel could only watch and bit his lip as he watched his ex-rival fuck his girlfriend. He was getting more and more turned on by the minute. His eyes watched as her tits bounced and her belly jiggled every time Johnny pounded away. The sounds of wet flesh meet his ears and made him even harder.

He played with her tits as Johnny fucked her. His eyes glazed over as he looked down to watch how Johnny’s dick moved in and out of her. His eyes narrowed as he watched Johnny’s already large knot swell even more. He watched as it started to catch along the rim of her pussy. His thrusts grew harder and shorter. Daniel knew the blond alpha was getting close to busting.

“Just knot her already man, we know you want to.”

“Johnny, please! Please knot me, make me cum! I want to cum!”

Johnny couldn’t stop the way his knot finally swelled completely and in one thrust he was completely locked inside. She squeezed under him and he could feel the way she milked him. Her walls clenched and he could feel her soaking him with cum and slick. She thrashed around for a minute or two before settling down into a heap. Johnny kissed her damp skin and full tits. He could feel his hot pants as he nosed at her skin.

He closed his eyes for a while as they all just lay there in silence. He felt hands work over his head, fingers guiding through his blond locks. Fingertips traced over the bridge of his nose and along his cheekbones. Somehow he knew that the fingers that ghosted over his chin were Daniel’s, they were a little too rough, a little too hard to be Readers. The whimper that left his lips where soft as he settled into the rhythm of Reader’s breathing. The way her breasts moved up and down with every gasp of air.

They sat there for what felt like hours but he knew it was only minutes. The ease of the moment was gone when rough hands ran up the skin of his stomach. Daniel moved from behind the now pleased omega to behind Johnny once again. His rough hands moved to massage at his pecks, thumbs tracing over his nips and making them hard and pebbled under his shirt. He could feel himself twitch inside the omega under him, a thick load of cum filling her. Daniel nosed at his neck for a minute. Ghosting over his scent gland. Johnny couldn’t stop the moan that left his chest as the soft pad of Daniel’s tongue slid across the sensitive flesh. He didn’t have the energy to stop him. And honestly, he could say he didn’t care either.

One hand even dared to travel down his abs and through his wire-like pubic hair, brushing over his blond happy trail and down to where he was still connected to the omega. Fingers brushed over the connecting flesh. Johnny’s eyes flutter open as he moved to cup his hand over the tan one.

Daniel’s voice was low, something Johnny had never heard before. He was always so high-pitched. Never once had the smaller alpha made the effort to deepen his voice around the blond. This was something completely new and he didn’t know why he liked it so much.

“How about we make a deal, you can fuck my little omega here all you want. Knot her cunt all you want, then we can switch, and take turns like real alphas do when they want the same omega. Maybe one day you fuck me too, for fun. And maybe just maybe I get to fuck your tight ass one day too.”

Johnny wanted to grit his teeth, maybe even whip around and bite the other alpha's head off. But he couldn’t find the energy too. Something in his bones went lax at the other alphas' words. Maybe he wanted that.

His knot throbbed as he snorted back.

“Sounds like a good plan LaRusso. Maybe you are not as stupid as you look.”

#cobra kai #cobra kai blog #cobra kai ask blog #cobra kai imagine #karate kid #the karate kid series #karate kid blog #karate kid imagine #karate kid fanfiction #alpha!daniel #alpha!johnny #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai x plus size reader #cobra kai x chubby reader #chubby reader #cobra kai daniel larusso #daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso smut #johnny lawrence reader #johnny lawrence #karate kid a/o/b #a/b/o au #cobra kai a/o/b #a/o/b #a/b/o mention #gym class hero

[nearest-dearest]

Ayoo ok so, hear me out

How about Wally with a s/o whos vision is getting progressively worse and they end up getting glasses? Since hes a puppet i suppose he can be confused about how do our eyes work n all

Coming right up Anon! :D

One of the best things about visiting the big city you used to call home is that your local optometrist is still there. Thanks to that, Dr. Iris managed to measure the perfect glasses for you. Now you can see well, making the train back home much more enjoyable, since you can see the scenery outside the window clear as day, even at night. You wonder how the neighborhood is going to react seeing that you now have glasses. It’s going to take time to get used to having a new weight on the bridge of your nose, but you can manage that.

You just wish Julie and Barnaby won’t tackle you when they see you. Wouldn’t want to get your glasses broken when you just got them. You didn’t have to wait long though because the train stop to home is coming closer. And when the train stopped, that’s when you took your cue to stand up, get off and walk all the way to the neighborhood.

“Neighbor!”

“Julie! Barnaby! NO!” You braced yourself, waiting for your body to hit the ground from the weight of their hug, but it never came. And when you looked at why is that. You saw Frank holding Julie back and Eddie keeping Barnaby still in his spot. So not only can the mail man lift anything, but he’s also strong enough to stop anything!

“Now Julie! I know you’re excited, but you must give our neighbor their space. They had a long journey.” Frank scolded like an older brother would do to their misbehaving sister.

“I know that, Frank! But I can’t help it! Neighbor has been gone for three whole days and I just want to see if they’re okay!”

That gave you a little laugh “Thanks Julie, but I’m okay. The doctor just said I needed some glasses.”

“Glasses?” All four of your neighbors say at the same time before walking up to you to see your new glasses.

“Now how would you need that little fella?” Barnaby asks.

“I—”

“Hi Julie, Hi Barnaby, Hi Frank, Hi Eddie. What are you all—” A fifth puppet joins the scene.

“Wally! Look! neighbor’s back! And she’s got glasses now!” Barnaby announced.

“Glasses? What are those?” Wally asks.

“We’ll find out soon Wally. If our neighbor is feeling up for it.” Frank says, being the ever-considerate puppet that he is.

“It’s fine Frank, I can explain to you what this is.”

Julie suddenly gasps “Wait! So even FRANK doesn’t know what it is?”

Frank sputters and huffed “How would I know? I’ve never encountered them before!”

“That’s because it’s a human thing.” You said, and with that simple statement, everything clicked for everyone. You explained further “Whenever our eyesight is getting blurry, we need to wear glasses to see clearer.”

“Oh! I get it now!” Eddie says, but then concern laced his face at a thought “Wait, does that mean you went to the big city blind?”

Everyone gasped at the thought, but you were quick to quell their worries “No no no no! I’m not fully blind, and the doctor said I’m near sighted, that means I can see things when they’re up close, but not when they’re far away.”

And with that, everyone calmed down again. Knowing that you were safe.

“Oh! Does that mean my sight will also become clearer with glasses on?”

“Wally, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Frank is right Wally, the doctors have to measure what glass to put in my glasses so I can see clearly. It really depends on how bad your sight is.”

“Why, whatever do you think caused this blurry vision of yours neighbor?” Barnaby brought up.

“It runs in my family, and I guess it’s about time my family genes caught up to me. But not to worry, I just need to keep my glasses on the entire time, only taking them off when I sleep.”

“Oh! That’s the most, I’m glad you’re okay neighbor. I was worried for the past few days.” Wally sighs. And for some reason, that made Barnaby chuckle, saying: “Wally buddy, you’re always worried about our neighbor here.”

“I can’t help it though, at least they’re okay. And that glasses made them look the absolute most.”

“Thanks Wally.” You gave a smile, a smile that Wally believed that it’s the absolute most.

Barnaby, Eddie, Julie and Frank can see it clearly. The two may be oblivious to the fact, but the rest of the neighborhood will wait for the day. Where you and Wally can tell each other that fact.

#wally darling #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you #welcome home #wally darling my beloved #wally darling x reader #wally x reader #welcome home arg x reader #fanfic #julie joyful #eddie dear #frank frankly #barnaby b beagle

[halfmoondaze]

Jack is starting a serious relationship with y/n (only a couple months into their relationship) and knows very well she has trouble being in noisy, crowded places. She prefers spending time with only her and Jack no one else. She finally opens up and shows up to jacks house that’s filled with his friends. She gets super quiet and ends up in her own bubble not having the courage to speak to anyone. His friends end up saying mean things like “is she mute or something?” to Jack and starts pointing fingers at her, making fun of her thinking it’s a joke. Y/n at first tries to laugh along as well to try and get along with them but notices they’re taking about her. She feels bewildered and gets emotional. Jack tries to step in but y/n ends up going home without saying anything. Couple days have past Jack tries his hardest to reach out to reader about that night but she’s ignoring his calls, texts, etc. Maybe angst ending..? I’m sorry if this was too long I just want you to have something to work with😭

Sheltered

Y/N and Jack have been dating for a few months now, and their relationship was becoming serious. 

Despite being naturally shy and reserved, Y/N found it surprisingly easy to open up to Jack. She confided in him about her struggles with being in crowded and noisy places, which is something that always been challenging for her ever since she could remember. 

Jack was a perfect saint. He was incredibly understanding and supportive, and thanks to his patience and caring nature, he found a way to help her navigate her anxieties, while offering her a safe space in the midst of all the chaos, in little ways such as: having a movie night at least twice a week to be able to recharge, cooking or baking together, despite the fact that Jack was not the best cook. Or just cuddling while talking for hours while enjoying each other’s company. 

However, Jack being more extroverted, he would go out and have fun every now and then, but at the end of the day he would always go back home to Y/N. After all, she was his grounding force and he loved how he was able to find a balance through her. And given that they have a lot of mutual respect and love for one another, he would make sure that she never felt pressured to accompany him.

But one night, Jack was attending to this house party given that he was back home for a few days after promoting “White Men Can’t Jump” for the past months, and couldn’t wait to catch up with close friends. Y/N was happy for all of his achievements, and wanted to be there for him, which is why it came to a big surprise for Jack when she asked him if she could come along. 

“Really?” 

She just nodded. 

He smiled and sat with her in their living room couch. 

“Babe, you know you don’t have to go if you don’t feel comfortable, right?” 

“I know. I just thought it would be nice to be with you and all your friends, because I’m very proud of you” 

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. 

“Ok, but if you’re not feeling it and want to leave at any moment, you say the word and we’ll go home, ok?” 

“Ok” 

He kissed her. 

“Good” 

You hurried and put on a nice-looking short sundress and did your makeup, and in no time, you found yourself in the foyer ready to head out. 

“What’s up man” Jack greeted Shloob.

“Hey, what’s good?” he said.

“Yuh yuh yuh Jack is here” 

“Jackman” Nemo greeted him.

“Hey man” 

“How you doing” 

“I’m chilling” 

“This your girl?” 

“Yeah, this is Y/N” 

“Hey” 

“Hi” Y/N said avoiding eye contact as all eyes were on her. 

“Is she cool?” Shloob asked. “She mute or something?” Nemo asked. 

“Dude what the fuck?” Urban called him out. 

“My bad” Nemo said. 

“She’s just a little shy. Hey remember that one time-“ Jack attempted to change the subject but the conversation went back to Y/N.

“A little?!” Nemo burst laughing. 

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think she would come” Shloob said

“Yeah I was starting to think that girlfriend of yours was imaginary” Nemo added. 

Everyone started laughing. 

Y/N could feel her anxiety rising as unconsciously was scratching her arms, which nobody noticed but Jack did. 

At some point, their voices became like background noise as she felt her anxiety building up and it was becoming unbearable so she excused herself and walked to the hallway that lead to the bathroom to escape the commotion. 

Jack gave Nemo a look. 

“What did I do?” 

He just walked away. 

After looking for her everywhere in the house, she eventually find her in the hallway upstairs, absorbed in her own world as she scrolled through her phone. 

He quietly walked to her as to not to startle her and stood next to her.

Upon noticing his prescence, she pulled her phone away and looked down awkwardly. 

“Sorry about that”

She gave him a forced smile and looked away. 

“It’s ok. They were probably joking” 

“That still doesn’t make it ok” 

Y/N shrugged. 

Jack offered her his hand. Y/n paused for a few seconds before taking his hand, and he pulled her closer into an embrace. 

Then Y/N hugged him back and relaxed into his arms. 

After a few seconds, they pulled away. 

“Can we go home?” 

“Of course” he said kissing the top of her head.

#jack harlow imagine #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x you #jack harlow concepts #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow one shot #jack x y/n #jack x you #jack x reader #bf!jack #shy!reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow angst #jackman harlow #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fic #fanfic #fanfiction #jack harlow reader #jack harlow imagines

[ken-dom]

The Stars Look Very Different Today

∘₊✧ Ryland Grace solo fic

2.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: The computer has a new command for Ryland — one he’s extremely relieved to carry out.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I’m barely half way through the book and I’m so in love with Ryland already. My god. Anyway this obviously got me into researching some of the hornier aspects of space travel, potentially unlocked a new kink along the way, and this is where I ended up. If you’re as curious as I am about the topic of this fic, you might enjoy this Vice article and also this Mauden article!

Title from Space Oddity by David Bowie, suggested by the wonderful @heresthestorymorningglory who encouraged me endlessly with this fic, as always!

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, Project Hail Mary spoilers!, masturbation, if you squint it’s kinda Ryland x Computer — and it’s kinda forced masturbation but he definitely wants to do it so take it as you wish, premature ejaculation, written from Ryland’s POV in keeping with the novel, horny Ryland, mentions of porn, low key science kink, and my favourite tag ever: cumming in space! 🪐🛸💦

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘Ejaculate.’

The voice has become familiar to me over the last few days. Almost comforting at times, if not a little on the unsettling side. But hey, unsettling isn’t the worst thing a person can be, right? Or a computer, if we’re being technical. Which I suppose we should be.

I blink my eyes open, groggy from what I’m guessing was a relatively short period of sleep before I check the analogue clock on the wall to confirm it. I don’t think on it for too long, however, because my attention is pulled to the heat I can feel pooling in my gut, and the throbbing sensation in my… between my legs. It’s untimely, but expected.

I’ve found myself with this little problem upon waking up for the third time in a row, now. The previous times, I’ve ignored it, willed it away while trying to keep my mind on everything else I’m still adjusting to rather than wasting my time… enjoying myself a little too much. 

This time, though, it seems the ship knows and wants me to do something about it.

I obviously haven’t heard correctly. My inconveniently timed arousal must be playing on my mind. It has been a while since I… no, that’s irrelevant right now, I’m giving in but I need to focus.

Why would the computer instruct me to-

‘Ejaculate.’

There it is again, plain as day this time. Yup. The computer wants me to… ejaculate.

Despite being completely alone, lightyears away from another living human, I feel incredibly exposed all of a sudden.

I gradually sit up and look around the room, rubbing at my tired eyes, careful not to cause any friction that might exacerbate matters. One of the robot arms is waiting patiently at the other side of the small room, holding out a little plastic cup, which I presume I am supposed to deposit my offering into. And then, what? Give it back to put into safe storage? Or eject it out into space where it’ll crystallise and float forever as evidence of my deed, only for some alien to discover and analyse a hundred years from now and take back to his home planet with breaking news. ‘Sex seed found among the stars, Earth astronaut got too excited about space travel.’

Sex seed? Jeepers.

Maybe, more likely, they’ll keep it to repopulate in the event of this whole thing not working out, or-

Ok. Let me think this through a little more scientifically.

Why would I need to ejaculate right now? What’s different about this time to the previous times I’ve woken up with a raging erection straining against my uniform?

‘Ejaculate.’

‘Just give me a moment, please?’ I reply, irritable, and the computer does not answer. The robot arm remains, though, and I know I will be given no choice in this.

Is that ethical? 

Whatever. I don’t think I need to get caught up in the semantics of whether one can consent to a spacecraft computer asking for one’s semen, robot arms or not. And after all, in the words of the wise Beyoncé, I woke up like this.

So, back to the question. If it’s not for repopulation purposes, perhaps… ah! Of course! It’s for my own good! The computer is trying to make sure I stay healthy.

Masturbation has been proven to lower anxiety levels and stress. This is a high-pressure sort of situation after all. Maybe it thinks I need a little relaxation to be able to focus properly, or to keep my blood pressure levels well maintained?

That’s the stuff. I’m really getting the ball rolling now.

I remember a study I read, and realise that actually, the fact that it’s been a while is actually important here, too, and not just a distraction my body insists on.

Infrequent ejaculation can result in prostatitis, and the way to avoid the secretions and subsequent bacteria growth that cause the condition, is to ejaculate. Frequently.

The computer has either noticed my recent arousal levels; the higher heart rate, the dilated pupils, the change in blood flow to cause certain… swellings, and let’s face it, the scent of desperation I must be giving off after this long without an orgasm, and thinks I’m overdue an ejaculation or two… or, it’s programmed to encourage masturbation at set intervals with frequent ejaculation in mind as a necessary tool to health.

In honesty, I started to lose my erection when the first of all these thoughts occurred to me – nothing like a computer and a robot arm teaming up to persuade you to rub one out for them to kill the mood – but… mmh…

Listen, I know I can get a little… carried away with science, but I really am alone out here and I don’t think the computer is at all concerned with what gets me going. It just wants me to cum in a cup. I can do that. I think.

I retrieve the cup from the robot arm, which folds away, patiently waiting for me to return with the goods, no doubt.

‘Don’t look, okay?’ I say a little weakly, feeling my cheeks heat up. I know it’s a computer, but it knows things. Too much, almost, and I feel watched. I’ve never been into that, being watched. Nothing against it, but I much prefer to do this with my curtains closed and my doors locked, preferably in a darkened room, or the shower. Since I can’t be afforded these luxuries aboard the Hail Mary, the least I can ask for is the computer not to look.

It doesn’t answer me, of course. I didn’t really expect it to, but at least with whatever else it gathers about me, it’ll know I’m not enjoying it’s presence while I knock one out for it.

Who knows, maybe over time, we’ll get to know one another and the computer’s presence will be the only way I can jerk off. Maybe it’ll start talking me though it… would dirty talk be programmed incase of difficulty… getting into it?

I chuckle softly, knowing that liking the computer is a real possibility. Doll syndrome, it’s called. I’d start preferring the computer to a real living, breathing human. Or maybe there’s another syndrome specifically for the preference of a computer…

But I’m letting myself get distracted again.

Back to the matter at hand. Ha!

I sit back down on my bed, my erection pressed painfully against my uniform trousers now, as I consider the little plastic cup. By the look of it, it holds about 100mls. The average ejaculate is around 1.25-5mls, and from experience I tend to fall somewhere in the middle of that range, so it’s extremely unlikely I’ll fill it, but it really has been so long, the fleeting thought passes through my mind that it won’t be big enough.

Then my thoughts switch to how this is all so clinical and not at all sexy. I guess that’s another kink I might be missing out on, but before I can get carried away again, the robot arm drops something else down for me.

Oh. It’s a dirty magazine. The sort they keep on the top shelf, hidden behind more family friendly editions like House and Home or Celebrity Chat or whatever people read these days.

A pair of breasts almost knock me clean out as the magazine drops into view before me. The robot arm flicks through the thin, glossy pages and holds it open at a page of a woman with her legs spread, glistening folds displayed beautifully as if just for me.

But she’s not real. Looking at the image only reminds me that I’m alone, and whilst her aroused state and thoughts of how she might pleasure herself does make my cock twitch, my heart sinks a little that I’ll never feel another wet pussy.

‘No thank you,’ I choke out, slightly reluctant, and the robot arm switches to a magazine it was apparently holding behind the one with the pretty vagina photograph.

This one displays an image of a thick, handsome penis, uncut and leaking at the tip, fingers ghosting over the happy trail above…

‘No, that’s not the issue,’ I say, a little high pitched, because my cock is leaking now too, and I know I’m not going to make it to the cup if they keep showing me images like this.. ‘I just… I can manage on my own, thank you.’

Still, I feel a little disappointed when the robot arm takes that enticing cock away, too, and I’m left truly alone once again.

I let out a long breath, as even as I can muster. I need to get out of my head.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I focus on the ache between my legs. I think about taking my time, really enjoying the sensation of touching myself in space – and the thought that I’m actually in space, does it for me again. With an involuntary pulse of my cock, I feel a thick drop of pre-ejaculate form at the tip.

Take my time? Who am I kidding.

Clasping the cup securely in one hand, I slip the other over the crotch of my trousers and the strangled noise that escapes me would’ve been enough to wake the whole neighbourhood had I been back home on Earth.

I feel a rush of shame flood my senses, but then I remind myself that I can be as loud as I want here. In space, no one can hear you moan. I laugh again, feeling giddy. This is kind of exciting, actually. The thought that I’m alone is finally working for me, and without overthinking it any further, I tear open the fastening on my trousers and let my cock spring free.

I’m so hard it’s painful, visibly throbbing, angry red tip shining with pre-cum. Begging to be touched.

I realise as I stare down at my neglected equipment that words like cum and cock aren’t usually so easily thrown around in my vocabulary, and that I must be unusually horny – another word I tend to shy away from until the moment calls for it – to be thinking like this.

I bite my lips together, anticipating how it might feel.

I’ve never done this in space before. It must be ok to do it, otherwise the computer wouldn’t expect me to just get on with it, ‘reading’ material included, but what if it feels different? What if it hurts?

I tentatively raise a trembling hand and carefully drag a featherlight fingertip up the underside, base to tip, tracing a thick vein and collecting some pre-cum on the way.

I squirm, moaning loudly. I wonder if the computer has really shut its ears off, or if it’s simply programmed to know the difference between horny, desperate groaning and other types of sounds, like real pain or distress.

Whatever, I need more. Fuck.

I suck my finger clean and do it again. A gentle fingertip ghosting up the hot flesh and my body jolts upright.

I’m not gonna last more than a few seconds, and I know it.

It turns out that for whatever reason, touching yourself in space feels fucking incredible.

I lose track of most of my thoughts after that, feeling like I’ve transformed into some sort of rabid animal.

I slump backwards, spreading my legs, and my hand wraps around my shaft, immediately pumping furiously as a broken string of growls and roars rip from my throat.

I barely have time to remember the cup, but somewhere in the haze of unbridled bliss, my lizard brain must have kicked in at just the right moment because only instinct could have given me the sense to raise my other hand and position the cup to catch the insane amount of ejaculate I release as I writhe on the sheets.

Some of it dribbles down over my fingers, but it doesn’t matter, as long as I deposit some in the provided receptacle, I suppose, the computer will be satisfied.

It seems to drag on for a while, this release. Not that I’m complaining; it feels so good I wouldn’t be able to comprehend words enough to form an actual complaint at this moment, even if I wanted to. But as climaxes go, this one, long and intense and oh, so delicious, is up there with the best.

I shakily place the cup (around 7-10mls not including what I didn’t catch – that has to be some sort of record for me) onto the floor and roll over, curling into a ball, my softening cock twitching through aftershocks of pleasure as every muscle in my body relaxes me into another round of sleep.

I wake up five hours later, sprawled on my back with my cock out, still soft for now, and my hand sticky. It must have worked. I must have needed it.

Slowly, I sit up again, tucking my co- my penis back in. Making myself presentable. I am in uniform, after all. I reach up to smooth my hair down. It’s a mess, and there are loose strands stuck to my forehead. I’ll deal with that later.

I notice the cup of ejaculate has gone, collected by my trusty pal, the porno robot arm, and a little sink has been revealed from behind its wall panel.

The computer isn’t going to instruct me to clean myself up – it’s giving me that dignity at least, but it’s pointing me in the right direction. And it’s correct.

I stand on shaky legs to head over there, feeling a slight headrush.

Hopefully, the computer will never speak of it again-

‘Thirty-seven seconds.’

‘Until what?’ I ask, too relaxed to care very much, as I soap up my semen-coated palm.

‘Thirty-seven seconds to produce 7.8mls of semen.’

My cheeks burn. It timed me? And I couldn’t even last out a whole minute?

Did computers care about premature ejaculation as much as humans seem to? Is it even premature when you’re only trying to pleasure yourself?

‘Yeah, well, it’s been a while,’ I retort, sheepish but clearly irked. ‘A long while.’

No further comment from the computer. Great.

I know it’s time for me to get on with the thousand other things occupying my time on this ship, so I do. But the nagging thought I couldn’t shake as I observed the beetles told me that I had to prove the computer wrong about my stamina.

I can last.

And apparently, the thought of proving the computer wrong about my own masturbation habits was doing it for me and-

‘Mmhhnnn-’

That delicious friction against my sensitive cock in these pants was tormenting me. And I thought cock not penis so I must be horny again. Does space travel typically cause high levels of arousal?

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.

‘Computer, you got another cup? You can watch this time. I’m gonna put on a real show for you.’

#not s f w 💀 #ryland grace #ryland grace smut #project hail mary #project hail mary smut #ryland grace fic #project hail mary fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ken-dom writes

[ronearoundblindly]

Threadbare (2)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader

Part Two: Strain Curve (see previous or series)

IMPORTANT: I forgot to mention and link that this started with an anon ask, so I should give them credit for the idea. Here's where this all started! Additionally, Richard Fisk is an actual Marvel character and the son of Kingpin. All that is straight out of the comics (and animated shows), down to the horrible color choices.

Summary: Steve shelters you from Fisk while attempting to hide the truth from Tony. He's not a great liar...but how much of this is really fake?

Warnings for fluffy fluff of the 21st-fluffery with a teeny bit of angst, 100% idiots in love! Also a quick disclaimer about me knowing exactly diddlysquat about fashion design. I binged 'Next In Fashion' and so this is the best I got lol... WC 4066

You watch Steve blush at your attempted smile. He paws at the back of his head before gathering another confession.

“Actually, I do have—I mean, yes, I wanted to see you, but uh—“ he rushes over to fetch a paper bag he must have stashed as he snuck in behind the cops “—I did have a reason to come.”

In the bag, you find three shirts, and your smile turns more genuine.

“Of course, you did. How romantic.”

You’re still awash with adrenaline; there’s no filter to keep your teasing at bay. You can barely pick up that you said anything anyway.

Steve shrugs, looking down to take back the shirts as Abby returns with a glass of water for you. “Not my best move.”

You chug the water, loudly, unable to regulate how desperately you need it. Abby gently pries Steve’s shirts from his tense arms.

“Right.” Steve rolls his shoulders out, straightening and clearly falling into Captain mode. “We need to get you somewhere safe. I just have to make a few calls and—“

“Don’t tell Stark,” you blurt, hand instinctively grabbing the wrist that holds his phone ready. “I’m sorry. That sounded like an order, just…please don’t tell Mr. Stark.” Tony can’t know that Fisk has been using you as a tailor as well. He can’t. 

Alarm and curiosity flicker behind Steve’s blue eyes, but he hides it well immediately. “Ok. I’ll—” he makes no move to take his arm back “—think of something.”

“And I have three clients left…for the day.”

Abby tsks you from behind though it’s the truth. The empty glass rattles on the tabletop with your faint tremor.

Steve thinks for a prolonged, squinting moment. “After work then. I’ll pick you up.”

You run off adrenaline and butterflies the rest of the day, and yes, whatever liquids or snacks Abby and Dominica (when she returns from her errand) put into your hand along the way, but mostly it’s the fluttering anticipation of Steve that floats you through.

And then he’s back and it’s already dark outside.

“Oh shit,” you burst, politely showing Mr. Chen out while Steve waits his turn to get in the door. He says nothing, but Captain America lowers his head in disapproval at your curse. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time. Let me grab some things.”

You race up the stairs to the apartment over the shop. Your clientele and brand used to be small enough that you could keep those two sides of life separate, but slowly, your work has crept into your living space. Now you survive from a dresser, a hanging rack, and a Murphy bed that doubles as a small desk when it’s upright against the wall.

Not much of an existence, but it’s very practical.

You’re shuffling around with an overnight bag and a dump tote to grab mostly work things and two changes of clothes. One of your assistants can bring you more stuff if/when necessary, but it feels presumptive to think you’ll live out of a safe house for long.

“So…working to live or living to work?”

You jump at Steve’s deep voice from the open doorway. He looks around at the hodgepodge of work benches and mannequins lining the walls.

“It’s a fluid and evolving situation,” you admit, sweeping several binders of fabric swatches and sketch pads into the tote. You eye a work-in-progress on one of the dummies and decide against trying to take it. Too bulky.

In order not to keep Steve waiting, you hand over the tote and head to the car, texting Abby and Dominica instructions the whole drive. Steve assures you that you’ll still have wifi and freedom to communicate, so you don’t have to clear fittings and consults off the books. It simply won’t be wise to invite welcome clients into where you’re staying.

Admittedly, that’s very generous considering you could have been looking at a blackout, witness-protection level of hiding.

You’re still on your phone when Steve opens your car door, and you shuffle with your duffel, his feet at the edge of your periphery to follow. It doesn’t register that you walk down a long hall. It doesn’t register that there’s an elevator ride and another voice. It doesn’t register that you’re looking at a kind of hostel-esque apartment inside another building until you ask if there’s a space you’ll be able to spread out for work.

Steve glows with pride that he thought of that and walks you to a conference room…surrounded by glass…overlooking a 30-story high view of the city.

You’re in the Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower.

“Wait, he’s not supposed to know.”

Steve gets your confusion right away. “Tony doesn’t, but without filing paperwork stating the reason you need a safe house, this was the best—“

“Sheers!” the booming voice of one Tony Stark reverberates across 360 degrees of windows. “I thought it might be you.”

“Might be me for what?” you ask as innocently as possible.

“As Capsicles’ first, of course.”

Steve hangs his head while his pal claps him on the back.

“First use of his guest pass that is. Granted, I’ve been saying for years we need an in-house tailor, but no takers…” Stark fake-punches Steve’s shoulder. “Way to break the ice, buddy. I’m proud of you. What happened? You noticed you’re both workaholics and needed your girl…closer to get closer, did you? Good call.”

Steve shoots wary eyes your way, silently praying you ignore that remark or maybe checking you’re okay with the implication. The way Stark says ‘your girl’ as if he’s heard it several times before though…

“Something like that,” you shrug. 

“At least he finally asked you. I kept telling him to shit or get off the pot.”

“Language,” you hiss quietly.

The men look a little shocked for a split second before slowly turning to each other, a silent conversation passed in the empty space over your head. Whatever just happened seems to have really convinced Tony because a wry smile flickers beneath his sinking, pale sunglasses. Yes, of course, Tony Stark is wearing sunglasses at night, just as, of course, Captain America is willingly deceiving Stark to be your fake boyfriend. 

“Romeo,” the building’s namesake coos. “Training them young, I see.”

Steve’s jaw and neck tighten, a raging flush creeping up his pale skin, but he doesn’t argue. Stark buys the ploy, which is great, but in reality, Steve doesn’t even have your personal number.

Tony lifts his hands in surrender and starts retreating to the door. “Look, I hate to take credit—“

“No, you don’t.”

Incredulous, sagging eyebrows dip below his frames. “—but I am very, very good.” He points a finger back and forth between you and Steve. “You’re welcome.”

He tries to peek under a pile of sketches atop your work tote, and you rush to slap your hand down. Stark might see the other designs you’re working on, and just like he can’t know about Fisk, he can’t know about those.

“Fine.” Tony puts his hands up again. “I’m going.”

Steve steps to your side, apology loud in his eyes, and asks if he can make you tea or something stronger, ya know, because Tony has that effect on people.

“Yeah—“ you stare off toward the elevators where Stark remains lurking “—he’s still there,” you whisper.

Steve huffs a laugh and shifts to bridge the mere inches left between you, his hand gently landing on your upper arm and planting a kiss on your forehead like a breeze.

“Better make it look good then.”

Turns out you need tea and food.

You’d been so reliant on your assistants for nourishment that you forgot dinner. Steve sees; he has it covered. Instead of winding down after a trying day, however, you get a rush of energy, and you can’t squander the chance to make crucial adjustments. Every minute counts in the lead-up to Fashion Week.

“May I join you?” Steve asks, ready to walk away with his meal in hand should you prefer. “I won’t take up much space.” He looks down at his shoes and up the two inches above his head to the top of the doorframe. “Ok, much more space,” he corrects.

“You wanted to leave me alone?”

He bites back a smile and shakes his head, settling into the least cluttered corner.

He chats excitedly as you both eat, but after failing to pry some answers about Fisk from you,—‘are you often threatened by clients?’ and ‘can you steer him in another designer’s direction?’—Steve slips away to grab his own art supplies.

You’ve barely looked up until you get a surge of inspiration and search for your colored pencils under the pile of templates. How did they get all the way over there? Since when are red and grey so worn down? Weren’t you needing to replace both blues soon?

“Those in your way? I can move them?”

Steve stops sketching, holding a yellow pencil, the only color missing from the tin. That’s when you realize. He uses the same brand of pencils you do—tools made of quality materials but nothing overly fancy.

“No need,” you marvel. “I just mistook them for my own.”

Steve sweeps a large hand out in offering. “Mistake away.”

You can’t help it. You chew your lip to calm your grin. He’s simply a very giving man who enjoys simple things. It’s refreshing.

“Or we could trade? We seem to use the opposite colors the most.”

“Right,” Steve laughs, “I went on a tear trying for Sam’s suit in-flight. Never turned out.” Shaking his head dislodges a lock of hair, so he runs his fingers through the strategic coif.

“Hmm,” you hum absently, engrossed by his picturesque appearance, “my drawings are more like guidelines for my imagination. No need to be precise.”

“A sentiment I’ve heard many times before.” He slides the tin closer to the midway point between you. “I just want to do beauty justice, which sounds pretentious but…

“Point is—“ Steve lifts his gaze to you with a soft shrug “—use whatever you like.”

You thought your work habits were grueling, but poor Steve flits around at all hours of the day and night with workouts, training, meetings, and missions. He mostly gets to do drive-by waves of ‘hello’ as he travels the building past your glass bubble, always with a smile, always with a tinge of something else. He’s an easy man to read: you can tell when he’s fatigued (in spirit though, not body), you can tell when he’s irritated from stress, and you can tell when he wants to linger but has to go.

It’s incredibly cute. Steve Rogers is just so damn cute.

You continue with business as usual as best you can, video calling during consults and the most critical fittings. Clients aren’t exactly happy with your absence, but they don’t dare complain when the alternative is waiting another month for you to schedule in person. Besides, there are oftentimes you step away from routine appointments to focus on creating new lines.

Dominica is allowed to walk right in with any of your requested supplies since she’s delivered to Stark several times before. She stays for a few hours to touch base. She assures you that Tarik is no longer unnerved by the police car that sits at the curb outside the atélier’s front door. Apparently, Abby takes the cops coffee a couple times a day.

All in all, it’s going well.

One day, you think Steve is showing up for one of your ‘sketch sessions’—where he sits in his own chair somewhere around the huge oval table and quietly works alongside you—but not today.

“They…it’s…” Steve plants his feet on the carpet across from you and looks behind him nervously. Anytime other people are near the room, he walks right over to you to kiss your cheek, a show to keep up the appearance of actually being a couple, but it’s late enough that no one is around. “We do movie night—we’re doing movie ni—we’re watching a movie if you’d like to join?”

You’re tempted to tease him, ask ‘where’s my kiss’ or something that makes that fiery blush creep up Steve’s face, but you grin back. “Sure. I could use the break.”

Honestly, no, you should be hammering out some details for the lapels of this blazer, but ehh, you’re also tired of staring at the same damn jacket.

Of course, this means the lot of them save you and Steve seats beside each other on a couch. You two have only ever sat in chairs in front of or separated by a table, so figuring out how to curl up next to the man you are not dating is an adventure in micro-expressions. You share a look that lasts about two seconds but contains a forty-five-minute discussion of how far is okay to take this and agree that you want to keep up the charade.

Thus, Steve lifts his arm to drape across your shoulders, and you lean into his chest.

It’s a good fit, good enough that you wake up two hours later not knowing what the movie was about and starting to sweat from being so close to his very warm body.

Maybe it’s the eye convo or maybe napping directly on him tells Steve how comfortable you are with him, but either way, he changes to giving a kiss on the cheek or forehead every instance he sees you, no exceptions.

After a week of remaining on the same floor of the same skyscraper and doing nothing but working, sleeping, and movie-sleeping, you’re at your wit’s end, longingly staring out the window at the city below.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asks as he enters the conference room. Forehead kiss this time. His lips feel soft and warm as they ghost over your skin.

“Stuck,” you mutter.

His hand smooths across your back. “Well, how do you normally get unstuck?”

“I go for a walk through the park.” You know you can’t go outside, but it’s difficult to wrangle every bit of bitterness at your captivity. You appreciate all Steve is doing to make it so Fisk can’t get to you, but you need fresh air.

Steve sighs like he’s mad at himself before spinning around the room. “Right.” He grabs your hand. “Come with me.”

In the elevator, Steve explains that in keeping with the eco-friendly intent of the new clean energy tower, Tony made half of the rooftop a greenhouse and the other half a garden. The walking paths are all moss-covered, but there are no benches. Just outside the elevator doors are folding chairs, and Steve grabs two.

On separate chairs with no table in sight, you two watch the sunset on the other side of the building from your work room. You take in a big breath of the chilly air and shiver, completely content to experience freedom away from climate control, but Steve rushes back into the greenhouse to retrieve a blanket from the stack beside the chairs.

“Here ya go,” he stumbles, leaning to tuck the fabric around you. “I should have brought us tea or something,” but when he makes to leave this time, you take his hand.

“You’ll miss it.” He’s probably seen the view from here a million times before, but you don’t want him to go. “Stay,” you say in a whisper.

Steve visibly softens, shoulders dropping, eyes alight. “Yeah?” He sits again and looks at the nearly cloudless sky. “Yeah.” He slouches to get comfy in the small and unsupportive chair, but he looks so at home bathed in the warm pink light. “Each time’s a bit different but—“ he turns to you, smiling “—this one’s better.”

Since the sunset sit-down, Steve makes a point to pry you away from the work area when he has time to hang out with you. The couch isn’t actually far away from the conference room, but it does mean you get to sit together, your feet in his lap while he reads a book, listening to his commentary on the author’s points or sketching aimlessly for fun.

The whole thing feels like a bizarre vacation, some alternate reality where your home life intersects with superheroes. Tony Stark may have been a sometimes-client, but he never let you attempt anything more custom than a three-piece suit. 

You’re not complaining; it’s just weird that Captain America is so average when his uniform comes off. He sinks his face into his palm when he’s sleepy. His yawn is outrageously adorable for how big the man is. He absently holds your ankles steady in his lap when he shifts on the cushions. His eyelids droop, and he repeats paragraphs when he can no longer keep his place on the page.

Steve Rogers could not be more normal, and for this reason, you find him extraordinary.

He gets dressed every morning while you’re there, no sweatpants, no workout wear—or, what did Sam call it? Athleisure? That’s not a word, right?—except for when Steve is actively working out. He thinks it’s too on-the-nose to wear your designs in front of you for days on end, but that limits his options significantly, considering how much of his wardrobe sports a Tovarich label. Good jeans and a black sweater will have to do because today he’s playing model.

It seems the mannequin Dominica hauled in for you isn’t close to the right proportions for your client so Steve volunteered, rewarded immediately with a gorgeous, toothy smile that made his heart thump against his ribcage.

Steve’s chatty but can’t help it.

There was one conversation a few days ago that unlocked so many memories he thought he’d lost.

While he peeked at a few of your sketches, you asked him about clothing in the 40s, and he took your notepad to doodle a bit. Steve drew a common dress from memory to show you girls he grew up with, the pleats and cinches in their exact spots because—now that he has your full and rapt attention—he thinks it’s important.

He’s had to recall maps, battle maneuvers, building layouts, and evil plans more times than he can count; no one’s ever asked him how his mother styled her hair or which shoes she wore to work at the hospital.

They’re just shoes, but Steve sat misty-eyed describing how Ma tied her laces a very specific way, the way she taught him to, the way he still ties them to this very day. He hadn’t thought of why in so long, and ever since, little details keep flooding back.

“Buck used to never tuck in his shirts,” Steve laughs as you nudge his arms higher to check his range of motion in the shoulders. “He’d fix the front half and leave a tail out in the back.”

You chuckle at that. “Unacceptable for proper ol’ Stevie,” you muse.

“No, it was not—“ he drops his head in shame “—and I’d remind him every time.” Steve spins, prompted by the pull of your hands at his waist. His face is on fire, but he promised to help you. He just has to ’suffer’ through your touch, he supposes.

How horrible…

“Sharp dresser, were you? Not a hair out of place?”

“Yes, ma’am, or…at least for my size I was.”

You’re deep in thought, pulling the bottom hem to check how it lays at his hips, checking the lining before buttoning him up. “These might be too flashy,” you mumble. “Gosh, I hope he likes this color.”

“Why not? It’s stunning,” Steve jumps too eagerly at the chance to praise the barely purple fabric. It’s that kind of illusion hue that might look black, navy, or its true shade in different lights.

“And the buttons?” you prod.

He tilts one of the stamped, dark nickel rounds to see the embellishment. “I’d consider that a signature touch of the Tovarich brand,” he beams.

Your elation is contagious until an ear-splitting alarm sounds overhead. You’re so startled you spring backward into a rolling chair and topple to the floor.

Steve scrambles to help you right yourself while the wailing screech continues, but he knows that noise.

Emergency.

He has to go.

You’re holding your elbow, flashing him a thumbs up, and Steve feels terrible yelling to ensure you’re okay.

Agents race past the glass walls, and he really has to run so off he goes, jacket still on.

An incredibly long seventeen hours later, Steve is returning to his room only to notice you’ve fallen asleep at the conference table. He’s pleased there is no bandage on your elbow, so the fall was no worse than bruising, but he refuses to leave you there.

Slowly peeling your face and hands from your drafting paper, Steve wrestles your flopping arms and limp legs into a solid hold to carry you to your own room.

You don’t wake up, not fully, only enough to grip the shoulder strap of his shield harness as he gently lowers you onto the unmade bed. Luckily, your MO is to kick off your shoes when concentrating on work, so once you release the leather attached to him, he pulls the covers over you.

He kisses your temple. “Night, Button,” he whispers like a secret, and for now, it is.

You simply sigh and turn deeper into the pillow.

Steve purposefully finds you at breakfast to ask if you’d want to get lunch with him. Yes, it would just be in the cafeteria on the lower levels, and yes, you two have already shared many meals, but in his mind, this is the actual ask, the question of ‘will you go out with me’ instead of just ‘are you hungry at this reasonable time and may I be hungry in your vicinity.’

It’s stupid, he knows. He’s anxious for your answer anyway.

Steve has a very love/hate relationship with having you essentially trapped in the Tower. On the one hand, you’re starved for interaction and the choice of your surroundings. On the other hand, he gets you all to himself. He’s ashamed of how much he enjoys that perk. Somewhere deep inside, he hopes whatever Fisk is after is never resolved, but that’s wishful—and terribly selfish—thinking.

Just in case going on a deliberate date with him isn’t offer enough, Steve can return your client’s jacket. He hung it in his locker when changing into the tactical suit. It’s safe, but he’ll get it after his debrief. That’s a good excuse. That’ll work.

You’re happy and excited, only making him more nervous, but it’s progress. He’s done ‘round noon after the long meeting scheduled to start in, yikes, fifteen minutes, and you quickly agree. Steve floats on cloud nine, bouncing his foot until dismissed so he can rush back up to you.

He isn’t expecting to see Tony in your bubble.

“You don’t know me, Stark. How dare you!” Your face twists in fury. “Screw this,” you shout, frantic in grabbing your essentials from the table. “I don’t answer to you. I don't need this. Someone else will get my things.”

Steve doesn’t understand why you won’t meet his eye or speak to him as you barrel past. He’s too stunned to follow you to the elevator, it feels imposing to race down and corner you in the lobby, but he marches up to Tony with wide eyes.

“What the hell happened?”

Tony waves him off, cagy and dismissive, rushing off upstairs to his lab, and Steve almost asks if this is about Fisk. If it’s not and he blabs, then you’ll definitely be angry at him. If he grills Tony too much, there might be something that gives away that Steve lied about having a significant other as his guest for two weeks. If Steve admits that he doesn’t even have your number, the jig is 100% up.

But he knows you have his number, he knows he still has a jacket you’ll want back, and he knows one thing he’s incredibly good at.

So Steve waits, ready to apologize, ready to grovel, ready to yell at Tony for whatever. He is just ready and waiting.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @darsynia

[Next Part]

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #fashion designer!reader #threadbare #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff

[wingzie]

Hi!

Do you have a favorite moment back from when you were baby army that stood out to you about Jungkook and Jimin?.

And bonus question: for the sake of going back in the day and how we used to say “I’m going into delulu mode right now”, was there a theory you or someone else might have posted that made you say “ok let me go get my tin hat too”.

Thanks for being with us for such a long time, and thank you for creating a safe space for us!.

Hellooo!!! Thank you for the ask. Hmm... this might be a somewhat long response haha. For me, there was a certain time period as baby army that stood out for me in showing what their bond is like: When Jimin was sick after New Jersey. Side note: The VLive after the concert is LEGENDARY

Anyways, it was obvious that Jimin was not well in Brazil from the reports we got at soundcheck. We know from the Behinds that Jimin asked Jungkook for help if his condition didn't get any better. During TTU, Jimin stopped singing and got emotional. Jungkook kept his promise and sang along in the background. (For both days.) He then thought about jumping over to Jimin's pillar to comfort him, but thought better of it and thankfully waited until they were down.

This showed the upmost trust that they have for each other, on and off stage. There of other examples that shows this, of course. But it's the way they put the others' needs first over their own that hits me each time. They know when the other needs them and they'll do their best to be "There For You" no matter what. That connection is something that continues to beat stronger every single day.

One of my other faovurite moments is from "This moment right here is happiness" from KBS. Funny story: Quite a lot of Army had turned off KBS as soon as BTS had finished. I kept it on and continued to watch the ending collab. I think I confused both my own friends and people on my Timeline by screaming something along the lines of "AHH JIKOOK WERE SINGING TOGETHER CUTELY IN CONFETTI!!" Not many had kept watching like I had, so they had absolutely NO IDEA what the hell I was talking about...And then of course after that finished, Jungkook uploaded GCFH.

Another funny story is related to your delulu quesiton. I am not sure how I feel about the math theories. I somewhat believe in them, but those who know me will know that I absolutely suck at math. I actually failed it three times and never passed. It never stopped me in life though, apart from my inability to count to 13 apparently lol. Just before the release of Who, a GC of mine were talking about the 123 theories. I said that some seemed deliberate, but I couldn't tell overall. Queue Who being released, with Jikook singing at 1:23 and the song being track 13... It's still something the same GC jokes about with me today whenever numbers with Jikook happen. Thank you again for the ask and for the kind words. I'll always do my best. Happy to answer anything that I can! Much love, Becca/Wingzie.

#wingzie #jikookask

[krirebr]

Kris! I’d like to send in a dialog prompt for Mace and Sneak: “what makes you think that will ever work?!”

Oooh! Yes! Thank you, Chelsea! I'm so excited to get to introduce these two, from Killing Moon. This doesn't really have a particular place in the timeline, just sometime before their series begins. I changed the phrasing of your prompt a tiny bit to make it fit a little better, but the spirit's the same. I hope you enjoy this first look at these two! I love them so much.

Up in Your Arms

Pairing: Mace x f!Reader (Sneak)

Warnings: None

We're All Monsters

You stared down at the blueprints spread out on your dining room table and frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn’t love this plan. The chalice was kept deep in the compound and you weren’t exactly sure what sort of guard it was under.

You heard Mace before he even entered the room, so you didn’t startle when he came up behind you and placed his hands on your hips, nuzzling his face into your neck. “This is a bad plan,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” he grumbled into your skin.

“What makes you think it will ever work?”

You couldn’t see his face, but you felt the grin against your neck, heard it when he said, “I know it’ll work 'cause I have a super hot, vampire girlfriend who can do anything she wants, take absolutely anything she wants.”

You broke his hold briefly so you could turn around and face him. You leaned back against the edge of the table and his hands were immediately back on you. There was a confidence you couldn’t share on his face, his blue eyes sparkling at you. You frowned again.

One of his thumbs stroked soothingly over your hip. “Come on, Sneak,” he said softly, “you’ve been in much tighter spots than whatever’s waiting in there,” he nodded toward the blueprints. “What are you so worried about?”

You sighed. “I’m not the one who volunteered to go in there as bait.”

“Oh,” he said as he stepped further into your space. You hated the knowing little smile on his lips. He wasn’t taking this seriously. “You’re worried about your frail little human boyfriend.”

“Mace, come on.”

“Sneak, I’m going to be ok.”

“How do you know?” This was the most involved he’d been in the execution of one of the plans so far and you just didn’t like it. There were too many variables. Too many things that could happen.

He shrugged and looked at you with so much certainty as he said, “Because I trust you.” You put more weight on the table as you felt your knees go a little weak at his words, at the sureness of them. “No one in my whole life,” he continued, moving his face, his lips, ever closer to yours as he did, “has ever kept me safe the way you do, taken care of me the way you do, loved me the way you do.” He kissed you firmly, insistently, until you opened your mouth to him. He ran his tongue over your fangs in a way that felt like trust, love, acceptance, then pulled away. You couldn’t help how you swayed after him. He looked you directly in the eye, his voice so low as he said, “It’s going to be ok. It’s a good plan. I trust you.”

Kris's 700 Celebration

Tag lists are open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @femefetalelevelingup

#ask kris #kris's 700 celebration #paperweight91 #mace x reader #james mace #james mace x reader #mace x female reader #sunshine #vampire au #we're all monsters #killing moon #drabble #ce characters #kris wrote something

[kattythingz]

OH that's wonderful.

Honestly, Ling getting there first is not a bad thing if you consider that YJ was supposed to be a stealth based team at first (and at the end, and I'm pretty sure all around, except that they managed to blow something up every single time they left Mt Justice and yeah, they'll get along incredibly well with Ed)

I love how everyone knew Ed as 'The Fiance' but also how much of what they know is accurate? Because Ling could definitely just brag about his Love, who is Amazing and Sweet and Delicate but Strong and then they meet Ed and he's all those things!.. kind of. They've spent all that time imagining themselves someone to match Ling's sappynnes and now they have a short temperamental asshole who thinks Idiot is a term of endearment (it is)

OK now I started rambling, but I couldn't help it!! It's such a good AU I need more!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAH THANK YOU!! That means a lot to me 🥺 When I say I've daydreamed a lot of this au, I've daydreamed a lot. I'm glad you're enjoying it with me!! As a treat, here's a second scene that got out of my hands again. 2.7k, yeesh. I definitely should've been working on Solaris instead, lmaaoooo.

Part 1 here, for anyone new who's curious.

Robin had to admit, just to himself, that stealth wasn’t ideal for a facility like this. The walls were high and sturdy, composed of some kind of resilient metal that didn’t bend much, and the only space to safely follow undetected were the vents along the sides. Normally, he would’ve gone with the ceiling vents, but there were none here. They might’ve underestimated their resident bad guy’s paranoia last time.

He might’ve underestimated Ling too, as he’d chosen to travel by ground instead, and Robin hadn’t seen him again since. It should’ve been impossible in such an open space, but—it was like the guy had just disappeared. He would’ve been majorly jealous, if he wasn’t curious how that even worked in the first place.

The rest of the team were on standby in their own corners, waiting for Robin’s signal to intervene when needed. They’d initially protested the risk of a rescue mission, but Robin knew they all thrived on the same brand of chaos and rebellion; it was what had bonded them as a team. Obviously, they were on board.

He listened intently to the guards’ loud chattering as they walked their prisoner down an unfamiliar direction. The walls were getting darker here, and colder. The jails must’ve been close.

“—mean, it’d be a little funny if that actually happened,” guard one said with a no-doubt ugly grin. What was it with goons and ugly grins? “I’d kill for vacation time, at this point.”

“Talk a little louder, Jared.” Guard two rolled her eyes. “While you’re at it, why don’t you run back to the boss right now and tell him everything you just said?”

“Oh, come on, you’d pay to see it too.”

“I’m not putting my response to that on record.”

“Nah, you should just go ahead and say it.” It was Ed who spoke, and Robin’s eyebrows shot up, already leaning closer to hear the rest. 

He’d expected a lot of things from Ling’s infamous fiance, but a punch to the solar plexus wasn’t one of those things. He wasn’t anything like the team had envisioned. Needless to say, Robin was way curious about the guy.

“You’ve got a pretty shitty boss down there,” Ed continued, “and I’d know a thing or two about shitty bosses. I mean, no vacation time? Talk about a stick up his a—”

He stopped on a yelp—stumbling from a kick to his left leg.

“Watch it, brat,” guard two said. “The only reason you’re still here is because we need you alive to extract your meta gene from. If it weren’t for that—”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna fucking work, lady,” Ed snorted. “Like I keep telling you—”

He cut off again on a sharper, gritted noise, freezing with the visible shock from his inhibitor collar. Guard two smirked, putting away her remote.

“Your reaction to that says otherwise, boy,” she said.

“I’d think”—Ed heaved a clearly pained breath, still not moving. He was leaning most of his weight on his right leg now—“that anyone would react to being—”

He gritted his teeth again, shouldering another click and a shock.

“—fucking electrocuted,” he finished, biting out.

“You should’ve been paying attention before,” guard two scoffed as her friend pushed Ed to get moving again. He did so with an obvious limp now—to Robin, at least. He didn’t think the guards saw it. “That fancy collar doesn’t react to regular folks. If it’s not from a meta gene, then there’s something about you.”

“You mean a brain? I wasn’t gonna say it to your boss, but it’s pretty funny that your so-called head scientist can’t even grasp the basic concepts of, you know, a science. You sure he’s the right guy for the job, or did he just bang his head against the metal walls enough times before—”

Guard two let out a growl, and, oh, yeah, Robin knew what Ed was doing—and pretty damn well too. In the split second that guard two ditched her stance to strike Ed herself, Ed was already moving.

He ducked under her fist, letting gravity do its own work for a second before kicking the back of her legs.

She stumbled in true, and guard one went swinging too.

“You little shit—!”

Ed whirled around, prepared to dodge, but something else moved in tandem.

A shadow, emerged in a blink, striking the guard in the outstretched side.

Ed didn’t miss a beat and kicked out his right to get the guard’s other side. The guard twisted with his broken axis, and Ed got his hips with the knee. 

The guard yelped before toppling back.

“SON OF A—!”

Ed lifted his leg to deal the final blow, but his eyes widened that time when the shadow beat him to it again—kicking with much more force that sent the guard slamming into the metal wall.

Robin winced at the crack! that accompanied.

Well, he was never pissing off Ling again. Yeesh. 

“Holy shit!” Ed laughed when he registered too, though not fully. “You did not have to go that hard. Who—?”

“Ed.”

Ed froze at the breathy call, and there was Ling now. Crouching and just as affected—the eyes of a man to water in the middle of a desert.

Ed’s breath hitched. “Li—?”

Neither of them noticed guard two rising from her spot.

The jig was already up, so Robin didn’t wait to kick out the vent opening and fling a birdarang. Guard two cried out when it caught her in the cheek, disrupting her balance again as she stood. Ed whipped his head to Robin’s landing, mouth dropping in surprise a little when guard two was already down.

“What—?”

“Hey there!” Robin greeted cheerily, cutting him off. “Nice to meet, I’m Robin, can we get moving now? I think we’ve invited a party.”

True enough, pounding footsteps quaked the ground from a distance. Ling straightened up from his position before nodding, turning to Ed in a practiced motion and tugging him forward. Ed’s gaze darted back to Ling and he swallowed, drawing on nothing but air when Ling broke his shackles with terrifying strength.

“Ling,” Ed started again, stumbling, “what—where—?”

“There’s no time,” Ling interrupted hastily. “Do you trust me?”

Ed wavered at the final soft tone, stark eyes melting with uncanny resemblance to Ling’s when he stuttered, “What kind of question is that? Obviously—” 

“Then follow Robin.”

“What?”

Robin snapped to motion without further prompt and grabbed Ed’s wrist, pulling him along down the hall. “This way!”

“H-Hey, wait—! Ling—?!”

“He knows how to find us! Focus on yourself right now!”

Ed kept a good pace for someone spluttering, “I—I know that, asshole! How do you—?”

When he didn’t turn back in a blaze of fury for Ling, Robin released his wrist and focused on pulling up the building’s blueprints again. If they were tracking the right path, then their safest escape route for Ship to collect them was—

There! 

The halls opened for the VIP section of the building, flanked on both sides by large labs that they should’ve thought to explore before pulling this off. None of the scientists inside noticed them, but that was looking too good to be true any second no—

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

Intruder alert. Intruder alert. 

“Fucking hell!” Ed grunted behind Robin, slapping his hands over his ears. “Could they make that any louder?”

The adrenaline was kicking in now, and Robin let out a laugh. “I know! Come on, this way next! There should be—”

“—a VIP exit. Obviously!”

“You know your stuff!” Robin grinned, slamming the final key on his key-glove to hack the cameras and motion sensors. Sparks lit his periphery vision as the cameras drooped, and he heard Ed’s impressed noise at the unanimous reaction.

“Seems you do too. How—?”

Robin tossed him a smirk over his shoulder. Golden eyes were glittering now, just as charged as Robin. “I’ll show you later, if we make it out.”

“Is that a challenge?” Ed shouted back.

Robin almost answered that—totally—but movement around the corner behind Ed caught his eye. 

A wind whipped past them at the same time, and Robin grinned as they received an eager, “I’ve got this!”

“What the—?!”

“Kid Flash!” Robin said. “Another guy you can trust.”

Wally sped to their stopped side not a blink after, shooting Ed an exhilarated grin and a salute. “Hey! Ed, right? Kid Flash, greatest speedster there is and the coolest guy on this ragtag te—”

“Shut up, man!” 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Ed blurted, deadpan in a way that clocked Wally flat and had Robin cackling.

“Hey! What’s wrong with my uniform?”

Ed didn’t get to further crush Wally when the announcement changed tunes abovehead.

Initiating lockdown in East Wing. I repeat, initiating lockdown.

BOOM!

Where the hallway once forked ahead of them, a great wall abruptly slammed down. Robin was already pulling up his schematics again, looking for the key to hack security, but—

“Crap! Security runs on a separate firewall!”

“What does that mean?” Wally yelped, eyes darting to the other end of the hall where the rats where gathering again. “And why are there so many of these guys?! It’s just one prisoner! Isn’t this overkill?”

Robin didn’t risk breaking his focus with an answer. Down the hall, guards yelped and grunted indignantly.

“ED!”

Ling’s voice echoed in the metal space, and Ed jerked in his direction

“Ling! I’m right here!”

At the same time, Robin cursed. “Crap! I can’t hack this in time!”

“Well, that’s great!” Wally exclaimed shrilly. “And nobody else’s on this side of the wall either! What do we do now, boy genius?”

“If you can just buy me some time—!”

“Forget time!” Ed interjected suddenly, catching both their eyes. His own glare was set ahead on Ling’s figure dodging guards, cutting his way to them. Something passed over his expression, and he set his brow before whirling on Robin.

“You can hack shit, right? Get this thing off me.”

He pointed at his inhibitor collar, and Wally let out another noise.

“Dude! Greater priorities right now, like us being cornered any second—!”

“Got it!”

Robin recognized a “fuck shit up” look when he saw one. He made quick work of the collar, and the light on it clicked green before snapping open.

Wally’s face twisted further. “Hello?!”

They both totally ignored him as Ed cracked his freed neck with a hand. “Thanks. Now step back.”

“I’d listen to him if I were you!” Ling cheered as soon as he was in reach, smiling wider and realer at Ed than Robin thought anybody had ever seen of him this entire time, and already retreated behind Ed. “Ed doesn’t give warnings lightly.”

Robin didn’t need to be told twice, unlike Wally.

He yanked his best friend back into their little corner, leaving Ed to stand in front of them, a stark silhouette in the low light of the hall against the mass of guards that stopped to blockade the other end of the hall.

“We have you surrounded, boy,” the head guard called with their weapon pointed. “There’s nothing for you to melt safely here, unless you want to cook your friends with the rest of us.”

Ling’s chuckle sounded before Ed’s—though the latter rang louder.

“Yeah, about that,” Ed snorted.

He clapped his hands together, and electricity hummed in the atmosphere, like every time Wally had tried and failed to speed through walls. Several guards tensed at the feel and Ling particularly grinned with more teeth beside Robin.

“Melting isn’t the only thing I can do.”

The head guard straightened, holding their weapon higher. “Boy, I’m giving you a chance here—”

“That’s funny,” Ed said. “So am I.”

He slammed his palms to the ground, and, all at once, the walls convulsed around them. Electricity zapped down the metal seams, quaking the ground with a mighty, unseen shifting in the cogs.

There was a split-second pause, as Wally whispered, “What the hell was that supposed to—?”

The walls exploded.

One by one, like endless dominoes left and right and up and down, metal branched from every which way to SLAM between Ed and the guards, shaking the ground with tremor after tremor, until, in a manner of seconds—

The entire distance had disappeared. 

Where a great hall once sat between them and the enemy, now stood a wall no more than a few feet from Ed’s nose.

Wally and Robin both gawked that time.

“God, that felt good,” Ed announced, wiping his hands from a job well done. “Fucking idiots. As if all I could do was melt shit.”

He turned to the stunned group of them, absurdly nonchalant for a guy who’d just molded the walls like playdough, and Robin seriously couldn’t help it.

“Holy shit,” he said, and Ed cracked a grin.

“Watch your fucking language,” he replied. “Not so bad yourself, kid.”

Robin was going to answer that, but a certain blur zooming past beat him to it.

It wasn’t Wally.

Ed yelped when he was abruptly lifted in a hug—a noise that ended in a squeak when he went spinning too. His face erupted in red as he slapped Ling’s shoulder, stuttering, “Hey! Your friends are right there, you idiot prince—!”

“You’re calling me that name again.” Ling’s voice came out muffled into Ed’s chest, and he halted his wriggling to look down wide-eyed at Ling. “You’re—you’re really saying it, and you’re yelling at me again—you’re really here. Ed, Ed, yáng’er—”

“Ling—” Ed started a little faintly himself now.

“Ed,” Ling choked out, so much and so suddenly like a prayer, Robin tore his gaze from the sight when Ed’s breath hitched too. Wally did the same in his periphery, and they both heard rather than saw the click of Ed’s boots touching the ground softly again.

“Ling…” Ed’s murmur, however low, reached them anyway. “Hey, don’t—”

“Don’t ask me not to make any faces now,” Ling said thickly over him. “You were an entire world away. An entire world—wěidà lóng, I couldn’t—”

“Babe.”

Robin shifted at the soft tone, really feeling like he was intruding now. There was a brush of skin on skin, and a soft tap.

“I know,” Ed whispered. “I—I missed you too, fuck. You have no idea how… when I heard from Lan Fan that you were missing—” A shuddering inhale, and an exhale. “What were you thinking, you idiot?”

Ling’s laugh sounded like a frozen breath in the air.

“I might not have been thinking at all,” he murmured, “if I’m being honest.”

“Of course not.” Ed mirrored the laugh. “That was a rhetorical question, dumbass.”

“Hey…”

The protest was absolutely nothing, and it hung the moment for a long, awkward beat on Robin’s part.

He was just about ready to burst when activity blessedly thumped behind the safe wall.

Ed and Ling looked up from their tangled position—oh, god, they had been touching foreheads, gross—Ed going a little wide-eyed when the gate was forced open, by none other than—

“Miss Martian!” Robin cheered fast with his relief. “Boy, am I so glad to see you!”

Superboy raised an eyebrow from the ground level along with Artemis, and Kaldur totally wanted to do the same but refrained. He had that Look on his face that spelled it out.

“We heard you required back-up,” Kaldur said, as close to smug as his politeness got, and Robin rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

“As if,” he scoffed. “We had it totally handled.”

“Well,” Ed’s chuckle drew the team’s attention back to him, where he’d finally detangled himself from Ling, though they still had one hand on each other. “More like I had it handled. But you guys helped, I guess.”

“‘I guess’?” Wally squawked. “Dude, who took out half those goons earlier?”

“Definitely not you, kid idiot,” Artemis said with a smirk.

Ling hummed, “I must agree there. And, on that friendly note—” He glanced aside fondly. “Ed, these are—”

“Your friends?” Ed drawled, and Ling flushed—actually flushed! Robin didn’t think that guy had ever blushed around them before, that was priceless. “Yeah, no shit, babe.”

Artemis chortled at that, and even Kaldur and Megan were looking amused now at this new side of Ling. Ed caught all their fondness in a single sweep, and grinned.

“Yo. I’m Edward Elric.” He stole his own warm peek of Ling, and smiled. “My friends call me Ed, though.”

#blah blah i'm a clown wbk #i'm resigned at this point. hhhhh #fullmetal alchemist #fma #young justice #edling #edward elric #ling yao #dick grayson #wally west #fanfiction #yj x fma #crossover #katmail