#and other sticks but mostly yellow

[tallsc]

AvA Yellow and Leadership: Character Analysis

Well, the last character analysis went over very well, and I'm always down to ramble about sticks, so here's some stuff I've been noticing about Yellow and their struggles with leadership and pride. I don't have quite as much planned for this one, but we'll see how it goes.

So in the Color Gang, everyone seems to have preferred roles on the team. Orange and Green like to be leaders - albeit in different ways - and both tend to take leadership roles whenever appropriate. Blue and Red don't seem to enjoy the leadership role as much, and thus take support roles in the team. Yellow, however, seems to me like they like being a leader in a way, yet when it comes to it, generally ends up in a support role.

There's a lot of evidence of this, mostly in season 1 and 2, though a little in season 3 too. In the early days especially, Yellow loved taking charge and showing off, not unlike Green in some aspects. Yellow made the roller coaster so that all their friends could take part in something of their design - without even riding it themselves, apparently, since I would have expected they'd notice the problem at the end if they tried. The Lucky Blocks episode started with Yellow figuring out a bit more about the lucky blocks and then showing off to their friends. They drag Red into a lot of their plans too, both when first discovering command blocks and when messing with texture packs. They do similarly with Blue in the first Ravager episode, leading Blue to Mango's castle.

So it's pretty clear Yellow likes making the plans, or setting the scene. They love being the one who knows everything, the one who makes the decisions, the one who leads. So why, whenever there's a bigger fight or something that has to do with the whole team, are they so rarely the leader? Why are they the ranged fighter in the back who spends most of a battle giving their friends supplies? While it's helpful, it doesn't seem like much of a leadership style, right? Well, I think there's a few reasons.

First, they love being the one who knows everything. Turns out, in a new situation, they're rarely the one who knows everything. In the Raid, even Blue was more of a leader than Yellow with the villagers, because the only thing Yellow knew about the situation was the command block, so they focused all their attention on that. It went well, and they seemed quite happy about it, but their time was spent giving their allies buffs and gathering reinforcements rather than really taking charge themselves.

Second, there just isn't space in the team for a third leader. Orange and Green balance each other out, Green taking charge in tighter situations and Orange tending to step up when there's a bit more time to think, or occasionally just leading their own sub-groups. The only times Yellow really gets the chance to take that role is when they set up the whole situation themselves, which is what they do quite often as prior stated. In most other situations, they don't have the time to figure everything out so someone else steps up before they get the chance to.

Third, especially in the case of an actual battle, Yellow just isn't much of a fighter. They know how the game works incredibly well, but give them a sword and they don't end up doing much with it. So in a fight, they're better suited being a backup for their friends, getting everyone the supplies they need while lobbing bombs from a distance. Their fighting style just lends itself to a supporting role.

Fourth, this is less of an analysis and more theoretical, but I wonder if there might be some lack of trust between Yellow and the others? In all the examples I used for Yellow acting as leader, it did not end well. Whether it was dropping most of the group off a cliff, or making the computer devolve into chaos, or getting everyone possessed, or falling for a villain's trap, every time Yellow leads, bad things happen. So it wouldn't be surprising if the rest of the CG didn't quite trust Yellow in a leadership role again. Which has got to be frustrating for Yellow, cause it seems all they want to do is make their friends happy and proud of them.

That's why I'm quite happy with how the last few episodes are going, and am really hoping Yellow's command staff doesn't get used for anything bad. While Yellow spent most of the Raid doing their own thing with the command block, when they returned to the nether, taking point in the fight against Mango, I feel like that has to be the perfect spot for Yellow to be in. With the command block, they're in an element they're comfortable with, they're in the lead like they want to be, with still the supporting, defensive aspect that they're good at.

As dire as the situation is right now, at least Yellow might finally be settling into a better role for themselves.

That ended up quite a bit longer than I expected, huh! There were even some more points I had in mind that I never felt a good time to bring up, so guess I had a lot more to say than I thought. Well, if you read this far, hope you found it interesting! I'm sure I'm going to be making more of these in the future, so see you then! (Please look at my art too though I work very hard on it ^-^)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[moonknightproductions]

Do I make a yellow and red bracket? I haven’t seen one and there’s a bunch of color combination contests out there. On the one hand it’ll be fun, on the other, having to moderate it would be hell. idk just spitballing here

[arolesbianism]

I’ve drawn a decent amount of isat au eternal gales but yknow what I haven’t drawn? Eternal gales au isat. Don’t look at me.

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

tornadoes aren't more important than you

tyler owens (twisters) x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: pregnant!reader, married!reader, established relationship

“be careful, yeah?” you place your hands on tylers cheeks, tilting his head down to look you in the eye.

“i wish you could come with me.” tyler sighs, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours, his cowboy hat tipping upwards and off his head, clattering onto the hardwood.

“i know.” you miss it. the excitement, the fear, the anticipation of storm chasing. “but i don't think the baby would like me getting whipped around.”

tyler chuckles and presses his hands to your stomach, fully showing now that you've reached six months.

“im gonna be safe and im gonna be back home to you real soon.” tyler kisses you deeply, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you in close.

“uh, not to interrupt-” 

“you are interrupting, boone.” tyler looks up at him as he stands in the open doorway, trucks filling the driveway.

“we were just finishing saying goodbye.” you raise to your tiptoes and give tyler one more peck. 

“i love you.” you whisper against your husbands lips.

“i love you, baby.”

“ew.” boones nose scrunches up, still somehow not used to seeing you kiss despite being married for a year now.

“you stay safe too boone.” you point at him, watching as they head out the door and pile in the trucks.

you wave goodbye to everyone, tyler getting in last as he tips his hat he grabbed off the floor towards you, a silent promise to come back home.

you sigh as you watch them pull away, hand stroking over your belly as the trucks disappear in a cloud of dirt. “it's okay.” you whisper to the baby, but it's mostly for yourself. “daddy will be back.”

--

“hey.” you answer the phone with a smile on your face. “i watched the live stream.”

“pretty fucking cool huh?” 

“pretty cool that you let boone drive the rig.” you chuckle, knowing tyler did that specifically for you, to show you that he can let others take the lead, let them be the one to drive into the tornado.

“how's my baby doing?” tyler asks, ignoring your teasing.

“which one?” you giggle, laying a hand on your stomach. “im good, baby is kicking a lot though.”

“put me on speaker.” tyler requests. you roll your eyes but still turn the volume up and hold the speaker up to your belly.

“it's daddy.” tylers voice is half strict and half high baby voice. “you better stop giving your mama grief when im not there to help her. behave for just a bit longer, buddy.”

“i hope he listens to you.” you shake your head, bringing the phone back up. “how's the storms looking for tomorrow?”

“tracking a couple cells.” tyler confirms. “im coming home friday no matter what they look like over the weekend.”

“mhm, sure.” you roll your eyes, although you don't doubt it. now that you're pregnant, tyler is even more protective over you. he knows you can handle anything, but that doesn't mean he's going to force you to do it all on your own.

“i will. already miss that pretty face baby.” his country twang is music to your ears as you hum out.

“i miss you too. miss kissing your lips.”

“you're killing me, sugar.” tyler groans. you hear dani shouting something in the background.

“i-”

“you gotta go. i know. love you.”

“love you more, darling.”

--

you have tylers livestream on in the background as you clean the house, feeling the urge to nest and get everything prepared before you're too pregnant to do anything, and tyler certainly wouldn't let you lift a finger when hes home.

you always dreamt of a beautiful old farmhouse like this all your life, but before you could move in tyler insisted on building a proper storm shelter to keep you safe.

you unpack some of the boxes of things you bought for the baby's room, sticking to yellows and oranges to keep everything brightly colored and cohesive, in contrast to the darkening sky.

you're not right in the path of tornados, but they have been known to swing up and hit the closest town every couple years.

you know the cloudy sky is just a result of all the activity further to the west where your husband currently is.

you look back to your phone, watching for a moment as his handsome face turns to look out the window. you can see the reflection of the twister in his eyes, a mix of awe struck and fear that any man within his right mind would feel.

“god-” you look up to the ceiling. you're not the biggest believer, but growing up in the south has you always reverting to whispering a prayer. “keep my husband safe.”

--

you let out a yawn as you adjust, not knowing for sure the sound that woke you up until you hear it again, your cellphone vibrating on the nightstand.

“hello?” your voice is groggy as you answer. you didn't bother to look at the contact name, there's only one person who would be calling you at this hour. “tyler?”

“baby, get to the storm shelter right now.”

“what?” the words have you instantly awake, hopping to your feet and looking out the window of your second story bedroom. “it looks fine.”

“im- just trust me! are you going?” you can hear the nerves in tyler's voice as well as the roaring of his truck no doubt speeding down the road.

“yes.” you confirm, grabbing one of tylers sweatshirts and slipping it over your head before finding a pair of shoes. “im going down the stairs right now.”

the second you step outside, you can feel the shift in the air.

“im tracking it on the data. we reported it but they said it's not on their maps as if our equipment isn't ten years newer.”

you listen to tylers rant as you round the house to pull open the storm shelter doors. it's not a glamorous area, small and tight but completely concrete and filled with a couple boxes of supplies.

“im in the shelter, ty.” you reassure him as you close the latch. “im safe. the babys safe.”

“it's building.” tyler says, no doubt looking at the radar or getting reports fed to him from boone. “im coming home to you, ill be there in two hours. fuck it, make it an hour and a half.”

“it's wednesday.” you state, although its just after midnight so technically thursday. “you said you weren't coming home until friday.”

“that was before a torando was gonna hit you. baby, i don't want you to go through this alone when you're pregnant.”

“ill be fine.” you reassure tyler. “but if you want to come back and make sure, you're more than welcome. like i said, i miss your lips.”

“gonna give you lots of kisses to make up for being gone.”

“i won't argue with that.” your phone beeps and you pull it away from your ear to realize you're losing service. “i think we are going to disconnect soon.”

“stay on as long as you possibly can.”

you try, but your phone beeps again and the call drops out.

sitting alone in the darkness heightens your other senses, feeling the cold air sneaking in through every available crack as your ears pick up the sound of the wind roaring.

you close your eyes and press your hands against your stomach, softly singing a nursery rhyme that your mother sung to you when you were a baby, your eyes sliding closed as you fall back asleep.

--

you're startled awake suddenly as the door rips open, only for tyler to quickly enter.

“is it over?” you ask, standing up and wobbling slightly. tyler grabs your hips, holding you up and looking at you up and down, his eyes examining you. you watch the stress and fear and anxiety melt away to be replaced with softness and love.

“it's over.” he confirms, tugging you in close. 

“the house?”

“a busted window and a downed tree blocking the driveway. that's all.” tyler presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent.

“wasn't bad then.” you wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the warm embrace.

“no, but i got so fucking scared knowing you were here all alone.” tyler pulls away only to help you up the stairs, hating seeing you confined to the shelter even if it is to keep you safe.

“i just… i can't do this while you're pregnant. i can't leave you here, or anywhere, alone knowing something could happen to you.”

tyler pulls his phone out of his pocket and navigates to his youtube channel, going live and waiting for a couple users to join.

he holds the camera up so he can see himself and you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders.

“as you folks know, my lovely wife here is pregnant with our first child. as much as i love tornado wrangling, i love my girl more. for the next six months im going to be taking a step back, but don't unsubscribe, boone is taking over to keep the excitement coming.”

he doesn't even say goodbye, simply ending the livestream, knowing one of his followers surely recorded it to spread the news around.

“ty, you didn't have to do that.”

“yes, i did.” tyler bends down to lift you up, carrying you across the threshold of your house just like he did the day you got married. “im gonna be with you throughout everything. tornados aren't more important than you.”

[shortnotsweet]

This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

[erwinsvow]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

summary: how you and rafe got started <3

author's note: if i could stop losing my brain cells over rafe cameron for a minute that would be great but i can't so here it is <3 this is mostly cute but in the shea cinematic universe this establishes the beginning of what can only be a hopelessly codependent relationship <3 more parts to come! also none of this would be written without the surge of inspo i get from reading every single one of @princessbrunette's posts but in particular this one, this one, and this<3 one!

now spinning: one of the girls by the weeknd & jennie

Rafe’s always thought you were cute. 

Cute, he’d think to himself in passing, on a hot summer day when he was getting ready to take beers from the fridge and go find the boys at the country club. He didn’t need to steal anything, the waitress at the club always gave him whatever drink he asked for, but he just felt like taking them from the house today. 

You were dawdling around the house with a bored Sarah, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Sarah was texting on her phone, likely engaging in a virtual fight with Topper. He’d feel bad, but the two of them did it to themselves. You were at the counter with Wheezie, leaning on your elbows while the two of you discussed something. He didn’t really care, until he met your eyes for a second. 

Cute. The way you met his eyes and then looked away, face heating up. You were in a bikini and a coverup, probably waiting for his sister before spending the day on the beach or at the pool. The cover up was white and see through, covering everything to the point where no one could see anything but the faint yellow of your bikini underneath.

Leaning on the counter, when you looked away, he got a glimpse into the top of your dress. He could make out little yellow flowers on the material of your bikini and the outline of your tits squeezed against each other. 

He grabbed a beer and opened it with his back tooth, spitting the cap out on the counter next to Wheezie’s book.

“Ew, Rafe, get your spit molecules away from my book.”

“Who reads in the summer anyways? You should be glad for my spit if it makes you stop.”

“It’s my summer reading, Rafe, not everyone can just skip their assignments and get away with it.”

“Please, what have I skipped?”

You and Wheezie turn to look at each other and start laughing. He cracks a smile too, unexpectedly.

“Actually, it’s a great book. You’re missing out, Rafe,” you say, with a smile gracing your face, and he realizes he’s never actually heard the sound of your voice. You’ve maybe said hi to him twice, and both times Sarah had dragged you away within seconds. You even sound cute. His name on your tongue sounds even cuter.

“Really? Maybe I need to give it a try.” You laugh again, meeting his eyes this time. 

“You can’t have my copy, I already put my annotations in this one-“

“Stop yapping, Wheeze. I’m not gonna take yours.”

“Actually you have a copy in the library upstairs. I borrowed it last summer.”

“Really, kid? Wanna come find it with me?”

Your face heats up so much you turn away. He smiles then, and he smiles again when you follow him up to the library.

“This one is fantastic too, it’s about this young girl in England-” your voice continues to describe the plot of the book in your hand. You shelve it and then your eyes immediately land on another, another classic, another favorite. You ramble off the description but Rafe’s hardly paying attention.

He’s trying to recall when you had become so cute, so pretty. He thinks he’s never noticed you after you walk away with Sarah, or when he walks away from you two lounging on pool chairs, your nose in a book like always.

This is different. When had you become so irresistible?

Your pretty hair falls down your back. It sticks to your neck when the two of you are outside in the sun, in the heat. He has an urge to lick the sweat off just to see how you’d blush and feel how you’d squirm. Your eyes are warm and bright, but you’re still too shy to meet his blue ones, even when it’s just the two of you.

And it has been. Just the two of you, recently, almost all of the time. Sarah’s always off with her stupid friends and Wheeze is at home doing her summer work. 

The two of you travel to every ice cream parlor in the eight in the next few weeks. Conversation comes easily, even though you have nothing in common. He hasn’t picked up a bag from his dealer since he started talking to you, he realizes. Hasn’t felt the need to get high.

You’ve never even smoked weed, much less snorted coke. You’ll drink at a party with Sarah, but not too much, and you always end up being the sober friend holding back the vomiting girl’s hair. At the bonfire that he invites you to, your eyes keep darting around, seeing if anyone needs your help. 

Rafe moves so he’s standing right in front of you, blocking your view.

“Hey, kid,” he says quietly, leaning in. You’re boxed in, with Rafe and only Rafe on your mind. The clean, attractive scent of his cologne. The way it lingers on his clothes, like the button up you’re wearing over your pink dress.

He picks up the red cup in your hand and places it on the log beside you, balancing his beer next to it. His hands are cold from the bottle but you don’t mind much. He takes your wrists first, holding them in place, and then slides down so your hands are touching. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You were looking down at the hands, where the two of you were connected, but his voice makes you look up. He’s looking at you, and you want to hide your face. Your fingers twitch beneath Rafe’s grip. He holds on even tighter. “Don’t look away, princess. We gotta work on that, huh?”

You feel your face heating up at the nickname. You wish you were home so you could scream into your pillow.

“Sorry, sorry,” you scramble, trying to look up but you can’t find the strength or the will.

You’re embarrassed. Of course you are—this is Rafe, and you’re just you. Rafe is the one you’ve had a crush on since you knew what crushes were, and you are still the awkward little thing you were the first time you met him. 

His gaze burning holes through you makes you want to run and hide. Because this is Rafe, and right now you’re one of his girls. The ones Sarah’s complained about the whole time she’s known you—they get too attached, act all clingy, and then are replaced before long. 

You hear Rafe’s quiet laughter. You’re still boxed in, feeling hot and clammy even though he’d given you his button up not thirty minutes ago because you felt cold. 

“What’re you saying sorry for?” You look up quickly, and then look back down. Then Rafe’s hands leave yours, and he holds up your chin until you’re looking right into his eyes. “Hmm?”

You feel like puking. 

“I-I just, well I just-”

“You just what?”

“I don’t think I can be, um, be one of your flingy, uh fling-type girls. So, you know, maybe all of this isn’t a good idea.”

“Fling-type girls?” he questions. He’s holding back a laugh, which makes you irrationally upset. You shove hard against his chest to free yourself from the cage of his arms. 

“Yes, your fling-type girls. You have a new girl on your arm every week, and everyone knows it, and I refuse to be one of them, because it’s just embarrassing and dehumanizing,” he watches you ramble on. He smiles, but you don’t notice. “And frankly, I deserve better than that.”

“Are you done?” You glare back at him.

“Yes, and not because you said that. I was done anyway.”

“Good.” Your face drops for a second, thinking you overstepped and totally overreached regarding his intentions, but then Rafe surprises you—he leans in and kisses you. 

You weren’t expecting a playground peck, but the way he’s kissing you completely surpasses any and all expectations (and fantasies) you’d dreamt up. His grip on your hips is hard, and his tongue is almost down your throat. It’s messy, and wet, and when he pulls away, there’s strings of spit connecting you to each other. 

You should wipe your mouth before anyone sees, but you don’t. Your heart is racing, and you can barely speak, much less move. 

“If I wanted you to be one of my girls, I wouldn’t have spent the last three weeks listening to you blab about books and buying you ice cream. You’re gonna be my only girl, and that’s that, okay?”

You nod dumbly—words and motions still not quite back yet. You feel flushed. People’s eyes are on you both.

“Now, do you wanna head out and go get a cone?” You nod again. “Good girl. And watch your mouth.”

[sierrale8ne]

mom oc with paige? she can be the one who stepped up but once they get alone it gets smutty

paige bueckers x mom!oc

nsfw // really long, porn with plot, takes place when paige is in the w (year 3 in LA), stepmommy paige, soft!dom!paige, sub!oc, fingering, dirty talk, nipple play, some soft smut and very sweet fluff!

saveareaves_

liked by cameronbrink22, nikamuhl, and 24,061 others

saveareaves_ fits gotta stay hard even in 100° weather 🙂‍↕️

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stormreid flyest mom ever 😮‍💨 liked by author

user1 hey so how about you stop gatekeeping that camera roll and give us a photo of you and paige and zion 😅😅 just a suggestion!

paigebueckers Featured 🙂‍↕️

╰ saveareaves_ always 💋

cameronbrink22 zion’s little hand 🥹

╰ saveareaves_ can’t keep her hands to herself lol

jujubballin 🤩🤩

user ur tan lines… savea you want me dead????

azzi35 i can’t wait to see you guys 😣

╰ saveareaves_ soon my girl ❤️‍🔥

Savea huffed lowly as she set her wax stick on her vanity, gently tugging her jet black hair into a ponytail at the top of her head, slicking it to perfection before dropping her hands and rolling her shoulders. Her two and a half year old daughter, Zion, sat on the carpeted floor near her feet playing with a unicorn plushie gifted to her by Savea’s girlfriend.

When Savea first met Paige, she was 23 years old and Zion was around a year old. She had just gotten out of an extremely toxic relationship with her child’s father who was ultimately out of the picture immediately after they broke up, and not looking for any type of relationship.

But Paige was simply different. She was very patient with her, understanding that Savea still wasn’t used to being treated as amazingly as Paige treated her nor was she used to communicating her feelings and emotions. But it was very easy to fall for her because Paige was an amazing woman who genuinely wouldn’t hurt a fly.

When Savea took that next step in introducing the athlete to her daughter, Paige practically fell in love all over again. Zion, though very young, was still a complete carbon copy of Savea. From her eyes to the shape of her nose and even her smile.

There was nothing the woman loved more than watching Paige become a parental figure to Zion. Caring for her when she woke up at night, to bringing her back gifts from every single road trip. She even went as far as having designated time with Zion every Sunday (yes, even when she was on the road), no excuses.

They were currently getting ready for one of Paige’s games where the Sparks would be playing the Valkyries in a California classic. It was the first home game back from all-star break and the game was heavily marketed, mostly because of the Sparks biggest stars in Paige, Cameron Brink, and Rickea Jackson going up against Paige’s former UConn teammates Azzi Fudd and Nika Mühl.

Savea was excited, not only because of the atmosphere, but being able to meet some of her girlfriend’s favorite people in person (finally) was something she was looking forward to.

“Mommy!” Zion’s voice ran through her ear as she picked her up off the floor, holding her to her hip as she grabbed her bag and other necessities all at once.

“Yes, Z?”

Zion brought her little hand up towards her face before gesturing towards the unicorn on the floor. Savea chucked before bending over and picking it up, handing it to her daughter.

“Thank you, mommy.”

“You’re welcome, my baby.”

***

Shuffling the excited toddler into the car and keeping her entertained throughout the ride to Crypto.com Arena was definitely a bit of a struggle, but once they got closer to the arena Zion settled a little bit.

Her cream colored kitten heels clicked against the yellow hardwood floor, while Zion ran by her feet.

Paige wanted them to show up a little before shoot around so she could meet everyone before the fans started to pack the stands. She had even made sure the two were able to get into the family and eat something before the game, it was very considerate of her and Savea made sure to thank her for it later.

“Paigey!” The little girl screamed, spotting the blonde in a courtside seat finishing up a conversation with one of her assistant coaches. An iPad between them as they looked at film.

She looked up, pushing back the flyaways of her slick back bun. She opened up her arms, leaning forward towards the end of the seat. “Hey, babygirl!” A grin so big it reached her eyes she she picked Zion up in her arms.

The little girl’s short arms wrapped around her neck while Paige peppered her cheeks with kisses. Savea smiled from her spot a few feet away, adjusting the Marc Jacobs bag on her shoulder.

“P, look!” She yelled, fingers pointing to the white shirt Savea styled her in with Paige’s face on it. “D’you like it?”

“I love it, Z! Thank you so much.”

Paige had brought her attention away from Zion’s shirt, listening to her talk about her day with her mom as she walked up towards Savea. She was fairly shameless in the way she sized her up. The black backless shirt with gold jewelry complemented her carmel skin wonderfully. Her cheetah print pants sat beautifully low waisted on her hips, and face done up to accentuate her already goddess like appearance.

Savea noticed, calling her closer with her forefinger before planting a short kiss on her lips.

“Hey, ma. You good?” Paige asked, disappointed that the kiss she’d been thinking about all day only lasted for a few seconds.

“Mmhm.”

“You look good.” Her girlfriend complemented. Her hand briefly went to cover Zion’s eyes with her hand before she jokingly, and dramatically, bit her lip. She mouthed something a little too nasty because Savea’s jaw dropped and she hit the blonde’s arm with a force she didn’t even know she had.

“Ow! Z, mommy just hit me!” Paige pouted.

“Mommy, don’t hit her!” Zion frowned, crossing her arms on her chest and Paige stuck her tongue out in victory.

This is what she regretted about introducing the two. Paige was literally a six year old trapped in an adults body. The two together was like working at a daycare. Savea reluctantly apologized, rolling her eyes at Paige when her daughter stopped glaring at her with her adorable brown doe eyes.

“Okay, so,” Paige started. “I have some people who really really want to meet you, is that okay with you, Z?” She asked, running her fingers through Zion’s curly hair. Azzi and Nika were just walking into the gym from their side of the arena, their lavender colored warmups slowly approaching the group of three. The child curled into Paige’s chest, looking to her mom for some sort of support.

Savea nodded. “It’s okay! We’ll go with you, princess. Don’t be scared.” She smiled, instating some confidence into the little girl’s heart.

“Okay.” Zion mumbled, reaching for her mom and Paige allowed the other woman to take her from her grasp.

***

“But I thought you wear yellow and purple?” Zion yawned as she looked up at Paige slightly confused.

It had been a little over two hours after the game had ended. The match up living up to its expectations. The Sparks had thankfully came out with a two point victory 88-86 thanks to a game saving block by Cameron on Nalyssa Smith in the last few seconds.

Paige had played great, and both Savea and Zion nearly lost their voices cheering for her. A 29 point game coupled with 10 rebounds and 6 assists, a few steals and a memorable block added to the stat sheet as well.

The blonde sat on the carpeted floor of Savea’s LA Apartment. Zion sat soundly in her lap, taking sips from the warm milk Paige had provided her to get her to sleep, it was definitely a little past the toddler’s usual bedtime. After getting back from the game Zion could not stop talking about how cool she thought Paige’s job was, so her bedtime story hearing about and looking at memories from Paige’s career up until now. Pictures from when she played at Hopkins, to when she held that National Title trophy over her head during her last year at UConn. (a/n: manifesting)

“Well I do now, but I used to wear white and blue for a very long time.” Paige explained.

“I like blue.” Zion Yawned again, and Paige took the sippy cup away from her little hands.

“I know you do.” Paige laughed, wiping the dribble of milk that fell from her lips. “I think it might be bedtime for you, princess.”

She didn’t miss the frown that spread across Zion’s face, “I don’t wanna!” She whined, shaking her head viciously and burying herself deeper into Paige’s hold. “Please, Paigey?”

Paige very clearly hated telling Zion ‘no.’ She felt like the words should never even form on her tongue when talking to the little girl, but it was past 11:30 at night and keeping her up longer would only be a recipe for disaster come morning time. “It’s late, baby girl. You gotta go to bed.”

Savea could sense her daughter getting frustrated, so she walked over. She sat on the sofa that Paige rested her back against. Her hand subconsciously slipping to cup Paige’s cheek. “Z, let her put you to bed, okay? You got all day tomorrow to do whatever you want.” She reasoned.

Zion looked over to Paige, her frown turning into a smile when she stood up on her thighs and wrapped her arms around her neck. “One more story? Please!” Dragging out the ending sound, Zion eagerly jumped up and down.

“Okay! Okay, one more, that’s it.” Paige gave in. “But we’re going upstairs.”

“Thank you, mama.”

Paige’s brows furrowed for a few milliseconds before her head shot up to look at Savea. The expression on her face was incredulous. Savea simply shrugged, a matching smile on her face.

“Did you just call me, mama?” Paige asked, returning her attention to Zion.

“Sorry, I won’t—”

“No. No! Don’t apologize, princess. Of course you can call me that. I’d love it if you called me that.” Paige reassured. She held Zion close, probably closer than she’d even realized.

Savea didn’t fight the smile that formed on her face. She was very stingy with who she allowed around her daughter, and rightfully so. When she had first introduced Zion to Paige she had only hoped that Paige would be around for a long time, not only to protect her heart but Zion’s as well. This was even more than she had expected. It was heartwarming and she was so grateful to be able to watch the two’s relationship form into what it was now.

***

Savea finally made her way to her bathroom after watching Paige hold Zion to her chest and take her into her bedroom. This was another thing she loved about having the athlete around, she didn’t have to do it all alone. She was able to take time for herself in ways she wasn’t able to do before.

She had gotten out of the shower, body clean and smelling of her Vanilla body wash. Her favorite rose colored night robe on her body as she finished the rest of skin care routine. A few knocks on her door got her attention.

She tugged the door open to reveal her girlfriend. The blonde stepped into the brightly lit bathroom, her arms immediately wrapping around Savea’s waist and pulling her close. Paige tucked her head into the woman’s neck, “You smell nice.”

“Thank you! It’s that new body butter you got me.” Savea answered. Her hands dropped to hold onto the arms around her waist. Paige still had on her outfit from the game. A simple white graphic t-shirt that had the sleeves cut off; she was obviously in the mood to show off her muscles tonight. Her baggy light wash jeans clung low to her hips, the band of her Calvin Klein’s peaking out. “You played good tonight, it was kinda hot.” She changed the subject.

Paige’s lips puckered, pushing a kiss to Savea’s neck. She was soft with it, teasing as she looked into her eyes through the mirror. “I had a baddie sitting in the box, I had to show out.” She joked. Savea rolled her eyes at the cockiness that ran through her body.

“Okay, Jordan Poole.”

“I’m serious! You shoulda seen her, baby. She got a pretty smile, body on a whole different level, she was cheering me on the whole game too.” Paige continued, she slightly rocked the two side to side as she spoke.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm, definitely a MILF. Shoulda seen her.” She teased. Paige kissed Savea’s neck again. Her hand moved to the silk string of her robe, playing with it but not tugging the robe open. “She ain’t got shit on you though.

“At all?”

“Nope. You just do something different to me. Can’t ever be replicated.” Paige said. She gently turned Savea around so she could look at her pretty face up close. Her eyes raked her girlfriend’s body, her tits just barely peaked out of the top of the silk cover up. The curve of Savea’s hips, though, was probably Paige’s favorite. Her skin was decorated in pretty stretch marks that she always made sure to show extra love to.

Savea puckered her lips, teasingly sticking them out for Paige to finally kiss them. Connecting them in a gentle kiss, Paige cupped Savea’s cheeks in her hand as she kissed them repeatedly. Savea let her, shoulders relaxing into Paige’s comfort as she melted into the kiss.

Paige’s tongue pushed slowly between her lips. It was a feeling and a taste she would never get over, even after these last couple years together. Savea tasted like candy, like hot chocolate on a snow day, like ice cream. So familiar and sweet.

Paige moaned softly and it spurred Savea on as she sucked dangerously on the pink muscle. Paige kisses back harder, the only signs of breathing being the short sounds of air leaving her nose.

The blonde pulled back delicately, pressing her pink lips to Savea’s cheek, then her jaw, and finally on her earlobe. “Sav?”

“Hmm?” She responded.

“Can I take this off?” Paige gestured towards her robe, tugging on the lace hem with the tips of her fingers.

Savea nodded, eyes going wide and eager. “Please.”

Her slender fingers untied the knot that kept the frail fabric together, watching it fall open around Savea’s body. Her breasts round and decorated with her hardened nipples and ridiculously sexy tan lines. A low whistle left Paige’s mouth as she continued sizing her up.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, baby. My God.” Paige exclaimed. Her hands traveled up to Savea’s tits, cupping them before they moved to her hips. “Take these off.” She instructed. Her fingers snapped the simple navy colored cotton underwear against her hips. Savea reached to pull them off until the pooled by her feet and Paige took it as an opportunity to take off her white shirt, leaving her in a black Nike sports bra and her jeans.

To say Savea’s gawked at her body would be an understatement.

She stood practically drooling. Her abs were so defined and the muscles on her arms unintentionally flexed with each movement she made. The sight alone was more than enough to have her soaking wet between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together, hoping to alleviate the pressure there.

“Babe, I don’t think you understand how bad I need you right now.”

“Show me then.”

Savea’s legs slightly parted, giving Paige room to step closer and stand between them more. A hand gripped her waist while the other trailed from the center of her chest and down her stomach. Savea rested against the counter, her palms flush against the cool marble sink when Paige ran her middle finger through her folds.

The slick pooled on her finger, catching her by surprise. She brought her finger to her lips, licking her girlfriend’s precum off of it before licking her lips.

“Hiding that from me all day, Sav?”

“Paige c’mon.” Savea breathed out, her head lolling to the side where she looked at Paige teasingly. A pout gracing her face.

She wanted more and Paige could tell, so her finger slipped inside slowly, gently parting her folds and brushing her walls with the long finger. Savea took a deep breath following that with a bite of her plump bottom lip. Her fingers were good company while Paige was busy, but they never did the job as well as her girlfriend did.

“Shit, you’re already dripping?” Paige groaned at the sight.

“You don’t know how sexy you look when you play.” Savea defended, but her mind was elsewhere, namely the slight rake of Paige’s long finger moving inside of her. “Been like this for hours, P.”

“You think you can take another?”

“Two more. Fuck, I’ll take three more. Just fuck me, P.”

Paige was never one for making her woman wait, so she nudged her clit gently with her ring finger. Her hand stilled before pushing in the second finger followed by the third. Savea’s insane wetness made it easy.

“You’re so tight, Sav.” Paige mumbled, dragging her fingers in and out at a dangerously slow pace. Her lip tucked between her teeth while she watched Savea’s body writhe. “You like that, baby?”

She nodded in response, a moan mixed with a whine leaving her pouted lips.

Paige’s head traveled to her girlfriend’s chest. Her lips kissing gently on it before traveling to her tits. She grasped one in her hand, tongue slowly peeking out of her mouth to lick Savea’s sensitive nipple. Paige did it again, but this time softly biting on the flesh. Her fingers started speeding up, the thickness of the three combined with the sucking on her tits made Savea’s eyes roll.

“Ha— Paige. Oh fuck, just like that.” She whimpered. Her hand cradled Paige’s head, fingers tangling into the long blonde hair. Her head fell back as she gripped onto the edge of the sink with her free hand. “Feels ‘s good.” Savea praised.

Her girlfriend’s lips continued with opened mouth kisses across her skin, tongue teasing her nipples and soothing the hickeys that formed there. The pace Paige had set for herself was dreadfully slow, teasing that one spot over and then slowing down before speeding up again. She pulled back from Savea’s chest, biting her bottom lip while she moved.

“You’re so pretty, Sav.” Paige complemented. Her arm began to sting, her muscles tensing from the increased rigor. Her middle finger curved just slightly and Savea’s head shot up with a shade of pink accented on her cheeks. “Oh my God, listen to that.” Paige fired. The wetness of Savea’s cunt was doing unimaginable things to her, soaking her boxers without a doubt.

“Baby,” Savea started. Her hand darted down to her clit, but Paige pushed the hand away.

Her need for control was so apparent. Her tall and muscular body towered over her menacingly and Savea craved it. She lived off of that feeling.

“Let me get you right.” Paige groaned as she pressed her thumb to the woman’s clit. She applied a steady pressure to the nerves, rubbing tight circles over it. “Fuck you just like you need it. You’re takin’ it so good, mama.”

“It’s so fucking—sensitive.” Savea gasped.

She raised in volume, and although the feeling was otherworldly, she still had her child sleeping in the room next door. Her hand pressed to her mouth to silence her growing cries.

Paige’s fingers pressed against her spot over and over and over again. The curling of her fingers hit that gummy spot and made Savea’s legs nearly give out on her. Her stomach was doing summersaults and the knot tightened.

“Let it go, Sav.” Paige instructed. “All down my hand, let that shit go.” Her veiny hand peeled Savea’s palm from her mouth. Paige’s lips hovered over hers, nearly touching but not yet as she breathed in all of her girlfriend’s breathless pleas. “Let me hear you.”

“‘M so close.”

“I know, Ma.”

“You’re so deep.”

Paige smirked at that, pushing her hand further until a squeal escaped Savea. “I’ll go deeper. Just need you to cum. Make a mess on this floor, go ‘head.”

“Paige!” Savea hiccuped, a groan leaving her lips as she steadied a hand on her broad shoulder. Eyes glued shut and mouth agape as she approached her climax.

“Look at me, love.” Paige spoke softly. Her hand slipped to the back of Savea’s neck, refocusing her attention.

Savea’s eyes blinked open, a glassy look on her brown eyes. Her body was on fire thanks to Paige, she knew her like the back of her hand. The blonde hit her spot with ease, repeatedly pushing at her button and rubbing her clit simultaneously until Savea’s legs shook and she gripped her shoulder with an electric force as she came.

Her jaw fell slack, her moans coming out as more dragged out breaths. Her chest heaved, and Paige’s eyes remained glued to her, even after she broke their eye contact. Her cum pooled in Paige’s palm, the sticky substance coating her hand and Savea’s thighs.

The athlete took another step forward to connect their lips, her fingers gently slipping out of her cunt. “I love you.” She spoke in between short pecks.

“I love you too, P.” Savea whispered back.

Her arms finally draped around her shoulders to hold her close, and Paige’s wildly exhausted ones fell together at Savea’s hips. They stood like that for a while softly shifting side to side while Savea caught her breath. Her head fit perfectly in Paige’s neck, inhaling the scent of her cologne that still managed to stay on throughout the night. Paige’s clean hand drew circles on her lower back, muttering soft, sweet nothings into her ear.

“Paige?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I say this all the time, but I really am so thankful for everything you do to help me out with Z.” Savea’s voice was low, she nearly drifted off to sleep right where she stood. “None of it goes unnoticed.”

“Baby don’t worry about it. You’re my family, I’m just doing my part.” Paige spoke into Savea’s hair. This was her life. Sure she got to play the sport she loved and the fame and attention that came with it was an added bonus, but she had Savea and Zion. Her motivation to keep going, even when she hated going to the gym in the morning. She had a family. “Oh my God, she called me mama today.” Paige finally realized.

She couldn’t fight the smile that formed on her face even if she tried. Savea nodded from her spot in Paige’s neck, giggling like a child when she looked up into her girlfriend’s bright blues.

“I know! You should’ve seen your face.” Savea pointed out, and just like that Paige was joining her in laughter, holding her lover close by while she talked.

And when their night came to an end, after they took a shower (yes another shower for Savea) and the girl returned the favor to Paige in said shower. After all was said and Savea fell asleep in the strong arms of her lover, Paige closed her eyes with a smile on her face. Thinking of her girl, and their little family.

paigebueckers posted a story !

tagged saveareaves_

authors note so so so cute, thank you anon! domestic paige is my favvvvvvorite but i thought it would be weird to write about her like this while she’s still at uconn idk.. so LA PAIGE (💔)

[bettysupremacy]

Omg imagine james doing something stupid (not much imagination needed there) and r is telling him of (lovingly) and he’s just like “yes ma’am🫡” and the others are like side eyeing him I just NEED james to call me ma’am in an argument

i hope you are having a great december so far my love

(not much imagination needed there) LOL

i could kiss you this idea is so cute thank you lovely

“Oh, my boy.” You croon to the mess tumbling into your lap. Softly, you brush some hair from his fluttering eyes. “What‘ve the evil twins done to you.”

“Evil twins!” Sirius gasps.

Remus laughs. “That’s a new one.”

You don’t look up from the sickly boy careening for your touch. “What did they feed you?”

He moans into you, muttering something you can’t pick up. He’s gone all right, ten shades of flushed and warm to the touch. It’s already a warm night, but this is no warmth that came naturally.

“We didn’t do anything.” Remus denies impishly.

“Puking pastilles again?” You eye them. “Do you know how long we sat by the toilet?”

“That was not our fault.”

“And neither were the nosebleed nougats?” You sigh. “Seriously thought his brain was coming out his nose.”

Sirius nods in agreement nose scrunching. “Not his finest moment.”

“Because of you.”

“Don’t start with me, woman.” His finger points between your eyes.

James is malleable under you, nose pressing into your thigh coyly. You see the corner of a smile as you fuss, guilty pleasure at your roaming touch. The room is hot, warm bodies passing and going as they please through the small flat. You fear he may run a fever, though that’s uncommon. James immune system is a rock, solid at anything thrown to it.

You press your hand to his forehead. “Has he had to much?”

The boys eye each other suspiciously. “Too much?”

You scoff. “To drink?”

“Depends.” Sirius shrugs

“On what!”

Their dubious behavior alarms you. These boys are up to something, or rather, were up to something, and now they’re avoiding dealing with the consequence of you.

“The substance.”

“Substance?” You sit up straight, shuffling the boy under you. He grumbles in protest.

“Potion.” Remus gives.

You frown apprehensively. “You didn’t.”

“We didn’t,” Sirius starts.

“he did.” Remus finishes.

Felix Felicis. They’d been talking about it a couple weeks ago, getting their hands on some. You protested, begged them, to forget it. It’s too dangerous, your voice of reason lowered their spirits, James you’ll be sleeping on the couch if you risk yourself like that.

“No,” You whine, fretting over the intoxicated fool. “how much?”

“Ask loverboy.”

“The whole,” James takes a deep breath mid sentence. “bottle.”

“Oh my god,” your eyes wide at the older boys standing. “he’ll be puking all night.”

“Maybe not..”

Your face drops into your hands exhausted. “Puking Pastilles all over again.”

“M’sorry.” James moans under you. “M’so sorry, lovely.”

“That was so stupid.” You scold lightly, hand coming down to flatten over his collar bones. “So, so, so, stupid!”

You're ruffled, shaken at the thought of him downing such an expensive, easily tainted, potion.

“Do you listen to everything they tell you to do?”

“No,” he starts slowly.

“Seems like it.” You bristle, pulling him up to sit. You look into his eyes seriously and he shuffles, nervous under your gaze. “Get a mind of your own.”

His fingers twitch at the hem of the dress you’d picked out tonight, squeezing it in his grip, grounding himself in reality. “Yes ma’am.”

Sirius scoffs behind you, shaking his head at Remus who looks equally perturbed at James’ extra affection. Under them, you wrap your arms around his neck surely. Besides the soft sent of sickly sweet potion, he smells of pine and cologne. You let yourself recognize his body is continuing to function as it should. Untouched, mostly, by the yellow inebriant.

“I can’t stand you, do you feel well?”

“I’m feeling better.”

You stick your face in his shoulder. “Be serious.”

“No, I don’t feel well.”

You sigh into him, pressing a kiss into his freckled skin. He won’t sleep on the couch tonight, though you aught to teach him a lesson.

“We’re going home.”

“What?” James frowns. “We only just got here.”

“D’you have another pool to jump in?”

He cringes at the memory of his fireball spree. “Kay, coming.”

You collect your coat and purse as you stand, leaving James to fend for himself behind you. “Felix Felicis isn’t a joke, one wrong tincture of thyme and you’re in St Mungo’s- James, were are your shoes?”

[xuchiya]

"scream my name" || jeong yunho

your soft bedroom painted in pastel yellow with small, scented candles littered around the room, it is enkindled by your night lamp gives a soft aura. though with the softness and warmth it gives, the opened balcony doors, the thin layer of the curtain sways on the cold wind of November.

the glowing room drapes around your canopy bed, a small roof to support the curtain of your bed to helps you protect from the blood-sucking insects.

yet, inside the canopy bed, outlines a body hovering something, a shape of a woman's leg can be also seen, opened wide as the image of a rope tied around her ankle that is held by the poles of her canopy bed. the bed squeaks each time the silhouette moves back, and fort and the sound of breathless moans echoes the room.

"f-fuck yeah! So good!" you heard the man above you groan, moving his hips much faster than a while ago. you were gripping the sheets above you as you squirm underneath him as he kept his cock in and deep before moving once again, snapping his hips into a harsh thrust-- the sound of his skin and yours smacking plus your sweaty glands added to the arousal sound.

"fuck faster yunho! fuck me! fuck me so good! " tipping your legs wider with his angry and veiny hands had you screaming as he used his thumb circle your clit aggressively. your hands were no longer gripping the sheets but clawing on his toned stomach.

hissing at the way your nails dug on to his skin but loving the effect afterwards, you look up to apologize but you were only met with a mask. a scream mask. his sweaty naked torso glistening just under the small light of the night light and the moon outside, yet it made your pussy ache for more, more of his cock and more of him

"s-sorry ... you were just -- fuck! fucking me so good!" you heard him chuckle underneath the mask. you whimper when his fingers run down your own figure, twitching, pulling and slapping your boobs multiple times before you echoed his name as you came undone.

shaking and panting, yunho continue his actions. his hips never faltering and you were slowly losing your mind on how insane his stamina is but who you were kidding? he had been going for the past hours and made you cum more than five times and you can feel the wetness of the bed outlining your body as he had made you cum, squirt [mostly squirting since he love how those juices leave such scent on his dick that it got him addicted].

the tip of his cock always nudges that spongy spot inside you that made you see stars. his grip from your waist down to your thighs were burning yet when his hands were suddenly on your neck, gripping it tightly, blocking your airway (but enough to make you still breathe) has you seeing heaven and back.

as yunho continue thrusting his cock out of you while having one hand on your neck, giving it a squeeze as the other runs up to his face to tilt the mask up, up to his head to reveal his sweaty panting face.

the sight of him, mouth slightly open while multiple of sweat dripping down his forehead to his eyes, to his eyebrows-- everywhere including his hair that were sticking ( so hot ) on his forehead.

you were so dazed and focus on the sight of him before you heard him chuckle, the raspy and deep chuckle of his made you bite your lip in anticipation, "what?"

he leans down, removing his hand on your neck to place them each side of your head, eye-contact with you so intense that your pussy clenches. it made him hiss but maintained the eye-contact.

"keep looking at me like that and i'll keep making you scream my name more."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

That day, the bus is mostly empty. It's only you, an eldery couple, and the driver. The ebb and flow of traffic slows the wheels as the driver passes by vacant stops. You watch the pavement roll by between patches of grass. 

The dulcet ride lures you into a calm even as your pre-work nerves buzz. You hug your bag in your lap as the driver stops and the doors open to let in another passenger. The axel squeals as the vehicular behemoth pulls away from the curb. 

You continue to watch the city as the new rider strides between the seats. You sense their shadow loom closer and closer. You expect them to claim the empty seat across from yours. Instead, the sit right next to you. It's an odd choice given the few passengers aboard. 

You fidget and make yourself smaller. You turn your head straight as you try to see the stranger from the edge of your vision. They're big. Broad enough that their arm presses to yours even as you try to shrink into yourself. Tall too, his knees against the row in front of you. 

He sits rigidly beside you. Uneasy at his proximity, you fish into your side pocket and slide free your phone. You open it aimlessly, tapping habitually on the crossword app you play at work in the low times. 

The solutions elude you as your mind can't detach from the man crowding you into the window. Why can't he sit anywhere else? You look around at the unclaimed seats. He stays as he is, stiff, straight, unmoving. 

You close out of the came and lock your phone. You clasp your hand around the device as you hug your bag once more. Your other hand toys with the little pom pom that hangs from your zipper. 

The bright bus signs pass by. You're stop is coming up. Now is the awkward part. Getting the man to let you out. 

You pull the cord to signal your intent but he's already on his feet. You glance over and thank him softly, a brief glimpse at his face. A scar ripples from his hairline, through his temple and angles down his cheek to his jaw. His eyes are a bold blue and his nose finely cut despite the large blemish.  

He stands back as you grab your bag and sidle out. You go to the doors. He follows. 

Huh? 

He grips the yellow bar behind you, his large hand gripping as if he might crush the metal. You stare at his knuckles and the bus jerks to a stop. You nearly fall off your feet. The man catches you by your hip with his free hand. 

You set your feet and cough out another thanks. Embarrassed, you slap the doors and they open. You scurry off and the men once more trails after you. As you veer towards the mall, he waits until the bus takes off and crosses the street. With him, your suspicious leaves. 

You're frazzled as you enter work. You don't know why. You just... are. Something about that man sticks with you. Even if he never said a word, it felt like he was trying to tell you something. 

You clock in and try to shake it off. His face flashes in your mind. You can't place what seems so familiar about him. You would remember if you met him before. How could you forget? 

You go to the counter as Layton talks with a customer about the new seasonal blends. The tea shop has its peak times, especially as winter approaches, but it's one o clock on a Tuesday and that's never very busy anywhere. 

You greet the next customers. Two girls interested in the cold brew pots. You show them what you have and explain the store's points card. The buy a sampler and nothing else. Typical. 

Layton finishes at four. The traffic picks up once he's gone. You don't mind as it keeps the time moving. It peters out as the dinnertime rush fills the food court. You can hear the crowd from around the corner. 

You set to wiping down the counter and putting away the few stray canisters left out. As you turn back, you have to swallow down a shriek. You didn't hear the man over the mall's top hits playlist. 

You hesitate as your eyes meet. It's him. The man from the bus. You blink and press your lips together. 

"Hello, uh, how are you today?" You ask.  

He just stares. No answer. No sign he even heard you. 

He's in all black. Boots, jeans, cargo jacket. He stands like a soldier. You part your lips again, "are you looking for anything in particular? Today we have our apple crisp chai as the sample." 

He still doesn't react. Not more than his eyes falling to the nervous twiddle of your fingers on the counter. Your scalp prickles and your nape burns. If he keeps this up, you'll have to phone security. 

He raises his hand to reveal a familiar object. It's the fluffy pom pom from your bag. Your brows pop up, "oh? Thanks. It must have fallen off." 

You reach for it and your mind races. As nice as it is to return the key chain, you can't help but wonder. How did he know where to find you?

As you grasp the soft ball, his other hand comes up and snares your wrist. Your squeak and try to pull back. You're stuck in his grip.  

Your eyes round and flick up to meet his. His gaze bores into you and at last, his stony expression cracks. He smirks, the scar on the side of his face paling as the lines around his eyes deepen. He releases the keychain and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

"Ow!" You squeal and yank again.  

He rips your hair out at the roots and you exclaim again. Hets go of your arm and you hit the shelves behind you. He nods and spins on his heel, clutching the handful of your hair.  

You whimper and rub your head as your scalp burns. Your eyes water and your lip trembles. You just gape at the door. What just happened? 

[theminecraftbee]

Etho and Grian are back at base, hysterically laughing over their achievement. Cleo sits inside, staring, as the two of them talk about getting a wither and a warden to fight, and tries to figure out what she feels about it.

In some ways it's not their fault. Task made them do it and all that. Plus--

Well, it's not like she and Etho are losing hearts anytime soon. They've both done a damn good job keeping themselves from dying. A benefit, Cleo thinks, of deciding to team with Etho this time. Between the two of them, they'll largely only do chaos they can recover from. Maybe this is their game. Maybe this time, Cleo manages to stick with someone until the very end. It looks like it. It looks like...

Grian, of course, is the confounding factor.

She wasn't going to turn him away. He needed allies. They needed someone a bit better at actually doing damage than herself or Etho. It's mutually beneficial. And, besides, he's weirdly lovable, in an inherently kind of dangerous way. A little like loving a bobcat someone had accidentally raised as a pet cat until it got a bit too big and stinky and murdery for them. Like, yeah, he shouldn't be domesticated and he's not, really, in any sense of the word, but it's a bit sad to watch him try to survive on his own now, right?

Hah. Maybe that's what Scar managed to do to him. Would explain a lot, really.

Anyway, he's her bobcat now, which is the problem.

See the thing is: Cleo understands Etho. It's why finally deciding to be partners for once felt... right. They're similar flavors of people. Scared, mostly. Survivors, but not in the 'will stab anyone' way that like, Martyn is. Loyal, although Cleo has no delusions that Etho is as loyal as she. And scared. Has she already said that? Scared. It's important to the kinds of things she and Etho are. Like... mountain lions, maybe. Mountain lions that have been around just enough people to know how dangerous they are. Like that.

God, she's only doing cat metaphors. Bdubs really is turning them all into furries.

Anyway, the point is, Grian isn't scared.

And that... terrifies her.

That's scarier than anything else. Because, see, Cleo wants to survive. But more than that, she wants her partners to survive. And she and Etho, the two of them are doing well. Better than most people. They're green and they have so many hearts.

But Grian? Grian's yellow and not afraid and goading Etho into not being afraid too. It's not their fault, exactly, Cleo thinks. They both had hard tasks. They didn't have a choice, Cleo thinks.

But. But.

She doesn't know what to do, if Etho gets convinced the humans down the mountain aren't scary. She doesn't know what to do if he gets too close. She doesn't know what to do if he gets hurt.

Because she--she doesn't think she can learn to stop being scared, anymore.

But she also doesn't know how many times her heart can stand to lose someone.

Did you know--wild cats are social? They have a reputation for being loners, but mountain lions, they're social. They don't do well being alone. They don't actually hunt solely alone. That's the important bit here. They seem independent, sure, but actually...

Anyway. This is Bdubs's fault. For making her a furry, apparently.

She watches Grian and Etho scheme together and sits back and breathes and tells herself that Etho isn't going to stop being afraid anytime soon. That if push came to shove, he, at least, would retreat back, and that maybe the two of them could convince Grian to retreat too. Safe from hunters. Safe from red.

Maybe safe from hurting each other, too.

(She's not so sure about that part.)

[un-lawliet]

I recently found your blog and <3

I’ve been having some health issues lately and have been struggling so I decided to leave a request! Obviously don’t feel pressured to write! If the prompt doesn’t stick feel free to ignore!

High school Satoru X female reader who had a crush on him in for ages but she’s so shy and Gojos so popular so they don’t really interact. BUT she decides to bake him sweets and leave them on his desk and somehow he finds out it was her and asks her on a date.

CHEESY I KNOW >~< I feel like we don’t have enough fics of reader being head over heels in love with Gojo and it’s a must!

ANYWAY- again this is a ramble feel free to ignore MWAH

hi anon !!! id absolutely LOVE to write this ITS NO PRESSURE AT ALL :) thank you so so so much for the request- i hope you’re ok ! and i’m always here incase u need to talk <3

“Pretty.”

— in which Gojo has a secret admirer.

“Did you hear? Satoru Gojo has a secret admirer.”

“Oh Yea? Who?”

“Dunno, ‘pparently he’s going mad tryna find ‘em though.”

…

Your face was definitely burning, hands sweating and jaw clenched as you listen to the chatter of your classmates. Their voices morphing into the background of your busy mind, blending seamlessly into the slight disarray of (as you would describe it) your dire situation.

Blinking, you raise your hand to scratch the base of your neck, trying to pull yourself together less you reveal your crimes of admiration out-loud to classroom full of people who barely knew of your name.

You could see him, from where you sat, hunched over in your seat at the back of the classroom, your eyes squinted ever so slightly as the unforgiving sun spread her light through the window, gracefully imposing on your face falling directly into your peering eyes.

Leaning against the smudged glass of the vending machine, he had his head tilted back, laughing boisterously at a joke from his friend (the one who was always trying to hide the smoke from her lit cigarette)

In one hand you could see a can of soda you knew was far too sweet for anyone but himself, and in the other, you saw the small tin, decorated with the white and yellow details of pretty flowers and bee’s. Lid concealing the sweets in which you had baked just a day prior, sweets that you had hoped would act as a silent confession of your- oh you’re blushing again.

Your feelings for Satoru Gojo were undeniable, however unspoken. And you doubt you would ever get to a point where you would voice them out-loud to anyone let alone Gojo himself.

But you are unfortunately, still human, and humans have a tendency to want to be acknowledged, and after years of harbouring unheard feelings for someone, the bitter grasp of your own human desire overpowered your confident resolve of silence.

And so, you left a tiny box of chocolates with a tiny pretty note tucked in the back, with a silently cheeky “Enjoy” written in pink pen.

Glancing over to the vending machine once more, you watched as Satoru Gojo waved a hand in-front of his face, pouting as he tried pathetically to dodge the smoke blown at him by his friend, who grinned cheekily in response, flicking the now finished bunt towards the ground and stepping on it, moving her foot side to side to kill the remains of the flame.

You smile.

You had met Gojo two years ago, but had known of him far longer.

In the words of yourself (and probably everyone else who knew him) he was the epitome of perfection. Good in class, the best in any sport he took up and God he was beautiful.

Everyone knew him, the exact opposite to you.

You who quietly stumbles around her own feet, and apologises for even the slightest thing, despite it mostly never being your fault.

You were incomprehensibly shy, and so incredibly frustrated with your own reticence.

And yet two years ago, Satoru Gojo had asked you for a pen, you for a pen.

He had leaned back in his chair, during your math class, turned his head and nudged you instead of everyone else around him.

A pretty grin on his face as he sheepishly explained that he forgot to bring his own, and you had stammered and nodded handing him a pen as you gently said “You can keep it for the rest of the day, I don’t mind.”

“Huh? You serious?” He had replied, his head cocking slightly eyes crinkling under his sun glasses.

“Yea? I mean uh- yes!” Looking away from his gaze shyly. “It’s just a pen you know? I have plenty.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but look right back at him, your heart basically stopping as he winked, right at you.

“Thanks pretty.”

And your sure you had died, right then and there. Watching the back of his head as he turned back around, uncapping your pen as he moved.

Since then, Gojo had always smiled at you when he saw you walking past, and always without fail, you would sheepishly smile back, the familiar feeling of butterflies tickling the confines of your stomach every damn time.

The shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, and you stand up, taking your books with you with a sigh.

The clatters of chairs and bags zipping filtered through your thoughts and pulled you out of your self induced daydreaming stupor, calling you to join the rest of your classmates in exiting the confines of your classroom.

You glance back out the window once more before you move towards the door, and instantly your eyebrows lifted and you almost loose grasp of your balance as Gojo Satoru stares right back at you.

Simultaneously he smiles, lifting a hand as if greeting you and you scramble away from the window, head down, entirely embarrassed.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Could you be anymore useless in your “acting cool” facade.

Ever since you had placed your sweets on Satoru Gojo’s desk you had been a nervous wreck, terrified that at any second your feelings would be exposed and the entire school would point and laugh at your sweaty, flushed face.

Sniffing, you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, trailing behind your peers through the halls, on their way home.

The lockers were always so crowded at the end of the day and you hated it.

You had no group to hide you from the conversations involving Gojo and his “secret admirer” have to hear every single in and pretend not to care.

“It’s creepy don’t you think? I mean why not just tell him you like him?”

“Maybe they’re nervous?”

“Of course they are? It’s Satoru Gojo for Christ’s sake, man’s beautiful.”

You close your locker, clutching the books and papers you need for your later homework, your bag left abandoned on the floor beside you.

Turning to reach for your bag, you feel another student collide into you. Your books crash to the ground, and you stare mortified as pages fly out, scattering everywhere.

The student doesn’t stop, just calls out that he’s sorry and that he’s late for a bus, you sigh.

You have to drop out, you think, there’s no recovering from this.

You bend down, apologising quietly to those around you who just glanced at you and continued on their way, and start to gather all your papers and books, heat burning your face.

“You ok?” You heard him just before you saw him, his teasing voice making your hands shake.

Satoru Gojo stood, a smile on his face as he leaned down to get closer to you, your eyes widen and you lean back on your knees.

“Um, yea-Yes everything’s good here..just dropped my stuff..” You trail off and end your broken speech with a fake, ugly laugh, internally you die as he nods and bends down to help.

“No, no you really don’t have to do that, I can manage!” You exclaim, hands moving rapidly in-front of you and he just laughs.

“I don’t mind helping ya, ‘kay?” He’s picking up random papers, no longer looking at you, his eyes glossing over your hand writing- a cheeky grin that you do not see flickers across his face.

You’re in a trance, watching as Gojo helps you, jumping when he glances at you and catches you staring, you busy yourself with stacking your books back into your bag, “Ok well, If you’re sure.”

“M’sure.” He’s handing you a stack of papers, ‘I’m very sure.”

The locker area door closes, signalling the absence of everyone else, you gulp.

“Suprised nobody helped you.” Gojo muses, standing up and raising a hand for you to hold.

You blush as you grasp it, it’s warm, you hope your palms aren’t sweating.

“It’s home time, people wanna get home.” You smile, rising to your feet using his hand has leverage.

Gojo let’s his hold linger before he lets go, you don’t notice, too focused on readjusting your top, fiddling with the fabric.

His sunglasses fall down his nose a little revealing the crystallised blue of his eyes, you swear the light causes them to glow as it catches his pupil.

You smile, eyes corrugating with what you hope looks like appreciation.

“Thanks Gojo.” And he smiles right back at you.

“Hey you know..” Gojo says, turning to ruffle in his bag, your eyes follow his movements, you watch as he pulls out a familiar box.

“Someone left these in my desk this morning, they’re really good..You wanna try?”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your sure you’re bloods turning blue in your arteries.

Act casual, casual Y/N.

“O-oh that’s nice of them.” You mumble, your voice breaking slightly.

He offers you the box again, shaking it slightly to entice you with your own chocolates.

“Um are you sure? I don’t wanna take something that was made for you..” You look away from his sweet face to stare at the floor, then the ceiling and then back to the floor, there’s a crack right below your shoe.

Someone should really fix that.

“Oh come on! They taste great.” He grins, taking a chocolate and popping it into his mouth, letting out a dramatic “Mmm” as he chews.

“I’m sure they are..” You scratch your arm and then move your hand to the box, reaching in.

Your chocolates do taste nice, but you knew that already. Your taste testers from yesterday remaining as memory to your taste buds.

“Well?” His voice is teasing again, and you smile at him.

“They’re delicious.”

“Mhm.. and you know what else?”

He’s leaning closer to you, you try to stop yourself from leaning away, pushing aside your inane awkwardness, willing yourself to stay where you stand.

“They left a note too, wrote it in a pretty pink pen.”

“Oh?..How, how very uh- nice? of them.” You’re scrambling for sentence structure, staring at his stupidly handsome face.

He takes a page from your arms, and turns it towards himself, then lifts your note from out of his pocket.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and you step back, head turning to the door.

“Oh well, I have to go haha..” You trail off, shoving your stuff in your bag and beginning to walk to the door.

“You made me chocolates?” He asks, and you freeze, your eyes falling back onto him, and the soft face he regards you with.

He had turned the note and your paper around, your handwriting obviously present on both, you chastise yourself for such a huge oversight.

How can you deny it now? Oh God He has you cornered.

Embarrassment bubbles in the back of your throat and you desperately try to explain.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, hands reaching out in-front of you as if begging him to hear you out.

“Huh-”

You don’t let him finish.

“I didnt mean to come off creepy, it’s just I- Well I- I think you’re really sweet, and you- You smile at me..sometimes, I just wanted you to let you know? And I’m sorry for how-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, his face falling, “You don’t need to apologise for nothing, I’m not mad.”

He walks towards you, “I’m just glad they came from you, that’s all.”

Hope? Is that what you’re feeling right now?

You dare to look at him, only to see him already looking at you.

“I-”

“I ‘smile at you sometimes’?” He nudges, “You made me chocolates cause I smile?”

“..It’s a very nice smile.” You reply, head dropping.

He’s laughing, it’s a sound that makes your heart flicker, and warms your chest, scarce of mocking you feel yourself breathe normally again.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you, his face glowing with joy, as he asks, “I was planning on going to the cafe just down the street..Wanna come?”

You pause.

“What.”

Standing up straight, he hands you the note and your papers, you hold them and stare.

“A date, I’m asking you on a date Y/N.”

Is this real?

Is this happening?

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out shocked and slightly higher than normal, you don’t understand.

“They’re very nice sweets.” He repeats with a grin “And they come from a very nice girl no? Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I- I just-”

Gojo, pulls the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slings it over his own, walking towards the door.

“C’mon let’s go pretty.” And he’s looking back at you, waiting “Else you won’t have a bag for tomorrow.”

You jump and follow, eyes still wide and mouth slightly parted.

And Gojo pulls you towards him the second you get close enough to touch, grasping your hand and tugging you with him, a soft smile on his face as he does so.

All is well.

masterlist <3

feel free the leave a request <3

a/n : all is not well, i’m sick as all balls right now- thank you my dear for the request..i know it’s taken me about 58 years to write this but i hope you enjoy it <33 i loved writing it and sorry for the wait. i love you !!!

[hbdttg]

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

[hoshigray]

hii love ur works 🫶🏽

can I req brat reader giving toji the WORST attitude? 💗.

*sinister laugh* Why, yes, you can, noonie! When I saw this, the first scenario that came to mind was the reader being another assassin who likes to get on Toji's nerves. So, imma stick with that!! Had to take an all-nighter to finish this up, hehe~ (no fr tho, it's 8:35 in the morning here) Thank you for loving my stuff, and enjoy~~

A/n: posting this bc I'm staling on my Geto fic since my brain has so much it wants to add...sigh. In the meantime, while I'm working on this, I figured I could drop this as an apology for pulling the fic back (~_~;) My apologies, and I hope y'all like this one! Also tysm for 1.7k followers!! Y'all are too kind and sweet, happy to be writing for you~☆ Cw: hard dom! Toji x bratty fem! reader - you and Toji are assassins on a mission together - explicit content; minors DNI - implied age gap (the reader is at least in their 20s; Toji in his mid-30s or approaching 40s, up to you) - fingering (f! receiving) - cunnilingus - sexual acts in a public place - degradation (brat, crybaby, slut, whore) - Daddy kink - reader talking smack, but Toji teaches you a lesson - tiny praise - pussydrunk! Toji - pet names (baby, doll, princess) - ends with penetration, but mostly Toji eating you out - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - overstimulation - clitoral play (pinching, pushing, and sucking) - mentions of blood. Wc: 1.8k

You recently joined the hitmen field not too long ago. Still young and new to the workforce, it wasn't the first place you figured to enter for some quick cash. But with your astute skills and abilities, no other occupation best suited you. Besides, it wasn't long before people looked past your recent addition and saw what you were made of. Not only were you good at your job, but you were climbing the ranks, swifting past your inferior subordinates.

It's nothing new, though. You were always good at what you do, better than others at what you do. Doing everything perfectly and effortlessly, that was your style. And everybody knew that.

Everybody but a particular individual. A specific man who always overshadowed you. An older man who snatched your attention the first moment he looked your way, the scar on his lip rooted up with the twinge of his lips.

"Rookies lookin' real cute these days, huh, doll?" were his first words to you. And from that day on, you did what you could to get close to him. Even if that meant irritating him.

From taking his missions to acting as a complete thorn in his side, you do whatever it takes to get Toji's attention. Especially his silent pissed off expressions, which are your favorite to see. And don't let your handler tell you that you two would be on a mission together because the teasing would be endless for the poor, experienced hitman.

Just like today, when you two are deployed to kill an old geezer and his goons for a massive sum of money, Toji goes to one side of the old warehouse to thin out the number of bodyguards and heads straight to the target's den, leaving you to the rest. But imagine his surprise when he sees the old man already dead on the chair at his desk, a stiletto pierced right through his neck, evident of his demise as a stream of crimson staining his yellow dress shirt.

And Toji notices a note left on the weapon, the familiar handwriting in pink with a kiss mark already tells him who wrote it. "Gotta be quicker than that, Grandpa ~" is what he reads in your charming voice, and it vexes him knowing you beat him to the punch.

He sees you leaning on a pallet rack when he returns to the warehouse, and you smile when you turn to him. "Well, that was fast," you play coy, stretching when standing straight up. "Took care of those punks like five minutes ago, figured I'd wait on you."

"I got your note." He wastes no time. He's so hot when he does that.

"Oh? Did ya like it~?" Your hand swiftly grabs something that came dangerously close to your temple — your stiletto. It was thrown with the knowledge that you would catch it. So serious, huh.

"Ya know, for someone callin' me a 'grandpa,' you sure act like a damn kid leavin' y'r toys everywhere."

You chuckle at his complaint. "Awww, did I hurt your big boy feelings with my little words?" You see his green eyes watch your every move as you walk up close to him. "Sorry~, not my fault you were too slow to get the final kill."

Toji raises a brow. "How'd ya get to him before me?"

You shrug with a cheeky grin. "Assassins don't tell their secrets, especially when your old head couldn't get it."

It's his turn to chortle. "Oh yeah? Ya think y'r too fast for me?"

"I wouldn't say that, just that you're too slow for me," your hands go up defensively when he takes a step forward, and you try hard to not get turned on by his well-built physique displayed by the shirt that does a terrible job hiding his features. "As a matter of fact, I bet you're slow at other things."

He takes another step forward, and before you register his next move, he already has you pinned to the pallet rack you once leaned against. His smirk grows broader while your eyes widen at the sudden shifting. "Was that too slow fr' you, princess?"

No, absolutely not. That's what you would want to say to him, his tall figure engulfing you under his presence. But you didn't want to let off that easily, your hand finding the crotch of his pants. When verdant eyes shut to the feeling of your fingers brushing against his bulge, you take the chance to say more. "Oh, that was totally too slow for me, geezer. Such a shame; I thought you'd be a lot more fun. But guess I'll have to go on to the next person who could do a better job."

"Mmm, don't start somethin' y'r not ready for, brat." His gruff voice dials to a whisper, your ears replaying the tone, making the throbbing sensation between your legs prosper. You can feel his erection, even with his pants blocking the view. "Good luck findin' someone who'd shut that pretty mouth of y'rs better than I do."

You giggle after grabbing onto his erect cock, forcing the older man to hiss and his face coming down to your level. You whisper to his ear. "And what makes you think a dumb, old, brute-for-brains like you could satisfy me? I fail to see what you're capable of, grandpa." Those were the words you chose to entice the man under your spell.

But what you really failed to see was the predicament you've gotten yourself in.

Lying on a pallet with your back, your pretty bottoms and panties now discarded to the dirty floor, you scream out to the empty warehouse. Tears and drool escape from your face, and the quiver in your legs is evidence of your body going through the absolute most right now. "Haaahh! Ahhhh!! T-Tojiii, Toji, please!! I'm—Hoooohh!!" You grab tufts of raven hair that are stationed between your legs.

The older man holds your legs up with one hand, the other nestled between your slick-coated folds as his middle and forefinger push in and out of your cunt. His tongue licks furiously on your clitoris, your cries evident of the abuse on your tender bud and vulva.

Toji removes the wet muscle and moves his fingers go an instantaneous pace, the tips of his digits scraping your walls resulting in more tears falling off your face without fail. He snickers, "Look at you; all that screamin' and hollerin' like a damn whore have you forgetting simple rules." His thumb finds your clit, pushing down on it every time his fingers are propelled inside. "What did I tell you to call me, brat?"

The unforgiving rhythm of his hand on your bare vulva has you seeing stars and choking on your spit. "I-I'm sorry, Daddy!! I didn't mean to make you mad at me!"

"You sure 'bout that?" His condescending tone matched the devilish twinge of his scarred lips. The digits doing a 'come hither' motion that has your body jerking nowhere, your legs still restrained by his firm arm pushing them to your stomach. "My 'big boy feelings' were crushed with y'r little comments, so here I am gettin' the payback I need. Was acting all high and mighty until I got my mouth on ya."

"But I said—Mmmph!! I'm sorry!" You wail out, your face hot with embarrassment and excitement. "And I already came—Oh fuck...C-Came three times!!"

"You called me names four times, so I expect you to cum one more time, you fuckin' crybaby." He replies coldly, your tears and pleas on deaf ears. "Heh, if I knew havin' my fingers in you like this would have you behavin', I woulda done it earlier. Grippin' on my 'em like a damn slut."

His fingers go faster with no smooth transition as his mouth returns to your soft button, your screams erupting from the back of your exhausted throat. Even with your voice filling the scene, you can only listen to the raunchy noises of the commotion between your thighs. It's enough for you to wish your ears burn at such lewd sounds, and your head pounding worsens the state of your already mushy brain. This is what you wanted all this time — to have the man you've been infatuated with give you the attention to so dearly strived and poked for. However, the intensity of it all was nowhere near what you had expected.

"Nnnmm!! Daddyyy," the title slurred from your mouth feels hot to the tongue, but it's the only way to address him before your punishment intensifies. You peer down to see his black hair come up, fierce emerald eyes taking in your expressions. "It's coming, gonna cum again!!"

"Yeah? Wanna come on my fingers again?" He chortles when you rapidly nod at him, pathetically desperate for your release. "Fine, cum on Daddy's fingers like the slut you are." He moves his hands to the back of your thighs and has his tongue slowly glide up your soapy chasm, tasting your wetness until he reaches your clitoris and attacks the bud more. Circling around and sucking on your precious nub prompts your orgasm to climb up, and it hits you hard when his teeth and tongue grind on your clit.

With final moans of pleasure, you experience your finish with the harsh treatment of Toji's mouth, hands purchasing his hair for faux stability. Your legs tremble with curled toes, and your body jolts with the shocks. And Toji doesn't stop until he licks the slit clean of your essence, slurping up your sensitive folds until his thirst has quenched. All you can do is submit and let him have his way with you, sucking up your fluids from your cunt to the mess of your inner thighs.

"Mmmm, fucking Christ, Y/n," you hear his mumbled curse below. "Taste so fuckin' good, baby..."

Your body soon calms down from the climax, trying to steady your breathing with even breaths. And Toji finally finishes drinking your wetness, drawing his head up to reveal his lips wet with your come, licking it and his fingers. "Bet that wasn't slow fr' ya, huh."

You meekly nod your head. "And I bet nobody's gonna make you shut you up like that, huh?" You nod again.

The smirk on his face scares you, especially when he straightens up to show his erect dick still hard and ready to be free from the tented pants. And when his cock springs out, your sweaty body runs cold immediately.

"Good," he says while bringing you close to him, arranging his cock to your wet entrance. "But we ain't done here." Complaints and pleas aren't able to enter the air because you just watch the tip of his cock bully through the lips of your chasm and enter inside you with ease. He gradually pushes his entire length into you, getting full with every inch as his girth intrudes between your tight, smooth walls.

"Keep up wit' me, baby," his eyes hone in on you, gauging your reactions before he starts moving his hips relentlessly. "because I'm about to show you what I'm really capable of."

[rassicas]

Splatoon 3 artbook is coming! and they gave us hi res sample pages! so i translated them!

I’ve already preordered the book, and since I live in Japan I should be getting it very soon after release. mark my words I’m gonna go crazee translating it i need that Lore

In the meantime, some translations of the sample pages! take a look under the cut:

Page 44, IKIMONO (Living things)

yellow text: Among the living things in the Inkling world, a wide variety of species exist. There are creatures that can take on a humanoid form as well, called "Inklings" and "Octolings", the former being squids, and the latter being octopuses. white text in gray box: The old and the new mix to make the Splatland's youth culture The young people who grew up in Splatsville take pride in being born and raised in the Splatlands, and there is an extremely strong sense of solidarity in the community. They deeply cherish their old local culture, which is unsophisticated and simple, yet strong. At the same time, they like to make fun of urban areas such as Inkopolis for acting like they're "all that". On the other hand, many of them secretly yearn for that sophisticated, high-collar, Inkopolis culture. The current culture of chaos created by the youth with such a flip-flopping mentality is becoming increasingly global.

I’m going to translate these roughly. character select screen outfit, left: lines pointing to reflective goggles, a mask that blocks dust, and the cape. the cape is made from kelp, and is meant to block out sunlight. hero suit outfit, right: the “ultra light earpiece” is so light, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing it. The ink display is a digital screen. Boots are meant for rough terrain. Interestingly, agent 3 is holding a weapon called a “Hero Extinguisher.”

the gear on the left is called “hunting equipment”. The earpiece is based on an udon noodle. It’s small, but it has a deep sound (with bass i assume instead of sounding tinny?) Around the neck are cooling pads. The shirt is made from a seaweed fabric. apparently its wrapped around their upper body and kind of hurts to wear. you can see their underwear, but its the kind of underwear that’s supposed to be seen for Fashion. idk what its called but you guys know what im talking about. The ink tank is homemade. in the pouch of the backpack are snacks. to the right are very early concepts.

Page 62, Deep Cut concepts

It’s a lot of handwritten notes with a lot of pointing out what the drawing is, so I’m going to translate roughly.

bottom left is pointing out various things about frye’s head anatomy. small chin, forehead sticks out, thick neck, head curves like this and this etc. middle frye with the bit of green and red makeup is described as having a clown-like feel to it. tiny furthest right drawing is commenting on a specific nose shape concept as “bird-like.” she almost had the same nose as my main OCs what the

red arrows on the right: long arms, long thighs, squared shoulders are pretty. hand in the middle with black text: something like ‘if she has hands with ornamentation like this it makes her hands seem long’ bottom left: the little doodle of the face reads that her ‘mouth is kind of like this.’ the other text talks about how her eyebrows move asymmetrically, as having that kind of variety in the movement is key.

left: she’s saying something about sharks? apparently she was going to be associated with sharks with shiver being associated with eels instead. right: various sound effects. “looking around absentmindedly” “rocking back and forth” “dozing off.” on the bottom it shows her suddenly stiffening to attention.

left: in her left hand, it’s a sensu (japanese folding fan). in her right, its a harisen (the kind of folding fan used to smack people in slapstick routines) gonna be real here the text on the right is too cursivey i cant read it

shiver mask designs. neat stuff.

early design concept.

Page 198, Scorch Gorge

not a lot of text on this page, mostly images, have a look yourself. top right passage: A majestic canyon where the history of the Inkling world can be seen in the strata and rock formations. Many enjoy rock climbing here. There's a spawn point that was once used for ink battles that no-one has bothered to remove.