#being in a writing field at this point in time is …. ANNOYING to say the least

[simp-ly-writes]

"Always, Sweetheart."

─────── · · A Black Ops 6 FanFic

Pairing: Russell Adler x Fem!Handler!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You were a handler of operators out in the field and Russell Adlers was your best and yet the biggest pain in your side with his constant flirting and desire to get under your skin. Yet as soon as someone else tries to annoy you or heaven forbid- flirt with you, it gets shutdown right away.

─ · · TAGS: men being dicks, female pronouns, no use of (y/n), protective!Russell, jealous!Russell, mutual pining, enemies (strong annoyance) to lovers, confessions, pet names, suggestive themes, hurt/comfort.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,477

─ · · A/N: I was going crazy looking at all the fan art. Don't think I will be coming fully back to COD like I was before, but I had to write something for this character. Hope you all enjoy!

─────── · ·

"Officer Adler!" you yell, bursting through the heavy oak doors and into the office space. Fellow agents, officers, and handlers all look towards you and then back at Adler frozen in time and space.

Adler takes a drag of his cigarette before waving his hand in a silent command for everyone to leave you both. Hands quickly pick up their belongings and feet scatter out before the doors enclose you both.

The man in question makes no further movement simply leaning against the corner of a desk, a smirk setting upon his features as his glasses slip down his face to watch as you near, hands gripping a manila folder.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he says in an even tone, observing the curves of your face that have fallen into a serious frown. "We have already gone over this before, agent. You cannot call me such, such-"

"Such what, honey?" He teases further, cigarette sitting between his lips as he leans closer and into your space. You take a half step back, pinching your brows together before letting out a breath. "The pet names, Adler. They have to stop, we are both professionals."

Adler hums out in contemplation, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out in the nearest ashtray. He nods his head in direction to the folder in your hand. "No. Before this," you wave the folder around to further prove your point, "we are sorting this thing out. I need to hear you say you won't do it any longer. It causes way to many issues."

"Issues about what? If someone is bothering you, you'll let me know right?" Adlers face drops, hands forming into fists, his stare already demanding names.

"Yes of course! But it makes me appear less assertive in my role, Adler. I have other operators I have to account for since you left and I can't have the newer ones thinking they can disrespect me in any way!" you try and explain, a hand gripping your hair as you stress.

Adler stands, gently taking your elbow before his fingers trail up your arm and towards your hand and head where he eases your grip from your roots. Before he can go to fix your hair you shake his touch off with a huff. "This is what I mean, officer," you say, throwing the document on the now bare desk.

"Well then maybe you should drop your other agents, (last/name)," Russell counters, arms now crossed against his wide chest. A few buttons to his navy shirt undone as you do you best to not look at the skin showing underneath.

"See you would have been my only operator as you have demanded in the past but as soon as you left, you failed to see that I still need to put food on the table so what little choice did I have but to be given new recruits?" you retort, falling into the nearby swivel chair as you stare at the door.

Adler crouches down, blocking your view. His hand twitching to pick up your chin to see your eyes once more. "Hey, look sweeth-(last/name). I can't apologize for my reasons for leaving but I will apologize for leaving you with no other options."

You nod your head before meeting his eyes once more, "So no more petnames?"

"No promises," is all Adler can say before leaning over you to reach for the documents you threw earlier. You lean back into your chair, hands gripping the arms, "You know you could have just asked me to get those for you?"

"Yeah but I got them anyways." You roll your eyes, "Hey- none of that now," Adler shushes you before looking back down at the files. You watch as his large hands grip the corners of the page, careful not to bend them before flipping it to the other side, a series of photos close to falling out as he tips the folder towards you to stop them. "I'm not a child in need of reprimanding, save that for the field workers."

"Never said you were but seeing you leaning back in that chair while doing that plants some images in a man's head," Adler's familiar smirk haunts you once again in the daylight. "Fucking hell," you swear underneath your breath.

"So, why am I being shown these? I already completed this objective..." Adler closes the folder, placing it gently back on the desk.

"Yeah, thats the issue. You see, Adler, we needed more information on those guys. Not for you to shoot them and the information with them!" you yell, swearing that your voice rippled the coffee in a nearby cold cup.

"Well, I'm going to let you in on a little secret off the books."

"And what secret would that be out of your many?" You lean forwards, playing with a ring on your finger. Adler stares at the movement before turning his back to you.

"I already knew all that information years ago, just had to make sure nobody else got to it."

─────── · ·

You thought that after that whole fiasco with your officer Adler, thing would have cleared up since then but it seemed that life had thought differently.

You were in a board meeting with your fellow operators, their handlers, and council members. One of your officers, Roger was sitting beside you, a notebook shared between the two of you as you both passed notes back and forth on the meeting that was dragging on into your lunch break.

"Well if they are planning biological warfare we have to meet metal with metal! If we are acting as moderates or even submissive what the hell room does that leave the enemy to operate in! They need to be neutralized long before those chemicals get out of the port, fuck the rest of them!" A board member yells from the top of the table as you lean back gaining a headache from it all.

Roger places a hand on your shoulder, his head tilting down to your ear, "You holding up alright?" he asks politely, turning his head for you to whisper your answer. "Yeah, just need this meeting to be over or at least to be paused. We are getting nowhere with all this shouting and violence."

The officer nods to your answer. "Yes, we have been circling over the same-"

"Oi! Do you to have something to share? Or are you both gonna keep whispering sweet little nothing into each others ears? Should I tell Adlers' that your cheatin' on em'?" Another handler chimes in, sending a toothy-white smile in your direction.

The other men around the table laugh as you lean on the table, threatening to stand. Roger makes no sudden movement in his chair, face set in a glare directed to the senior member at the unprofessional comment. Sighing you pick up your notes and crack your neck before reading your own radiant smile, eyes holding daggers picturing to stab through his eye-sockets.

"That will not be necessary, Paul," you spit out his name, "Nor is any of this discussion. We have all made no process since eleven! If we display strength with the military we risk our agents already operating within the operation and civilians. If we sit back and let it happen, we also risk a potential nuclear war. Our best option, which none of you men have brought forward and is embarrassing for our field is that we don't ship ourselves alongside the weapon, that way we can determine who has it, where it is meant to go, and where we want it to go."

You are nearly out of breath by the end of your speech as you stand and begin to walk towards the doors, Roger's hot on your tail as nods his head before all the members on behalf of you both, leaving the room in silence.

As soon as the door closes behind you both, you lean against it. "At times, I wish I had a dick like the rest of them but then I remember it's what makes them this way," you explain before picking yourself back up and continuing down the hall.

Rogers laughs, his eyes crinkling as he bumps your shoulder. You look up, casting him a smile as well. "You have a way of saying things, sweetheart. Would leave to see more of that mouth outside of work," Rogers says causing you to stand still in the hall as people walk around you both.

Turning to face your agent, your smile has turned into a glare once more. "Get back to work, Rogers. I expect a full report from last week still that I have yet to receive. Your co-worker has already sent theirs in with misinformation, I hope to not see the same things on yours. And please remember this, I. am. not. your sweetheart."

Turning back on your heels you continue further down the hall, Rogers left with your words before a whistle has you nearly breaking a heel by how much you want to throw it in his face. Russell. fucking. Adler. Standing there with that smirk yet again as he leans up against the break rooms entrance.

He holds out a hand, shaking it in a silent ask to carry your belongings. You shove them into his hand while using your other to press against his chest and to move him out of your way.

He does not budge, simply looking down at your lingering touch with a softening smile. "I am not in the mood, Adler. Please let me through," you use an overly sweet tone, you can feel him tense from underneath you.

"Hey, though I do love that tone when seeing you in a good mood. I do love viewing your rage. Lay it on, whats on your mind?" Adler asks, hand now resting atop your own.

"Move first and we'll sit and talk," you counter to his nod. Adler drops your touch, arm moving to welcome you into the empty space as everyone had already cleared back for work.

Coffee in hand, sandwich in the other, you took to your seat. "I'm so sick of men constantly stepping all over me when I worked just as hard- no. Fucking harder for this position and I still get treated like a little girl in their fathers suit and it does not help when after three hours of men shoving their dicks on the table a younger one then gets the audacity to be asking to see my mouth while calling me Sweetheart," you complain, downing the rest of your coffee before slamming the cup against the saucer.

Adler appears even more tense then you, his hands grips into fists allowing the veins across his forearms to appear most prominent. "Give me a name."

"Pardon?" you ask, embarrassed that you had became so easily distracted.

"Give. me. a. name, please," Alder asks once more, his eye staring deeply into your own. "Hey, whats wrong, sharing is a mutual affair," you reach across the table to grasp one of his hands, surprised when he pulls away. He's never done that before...

"Nobody gets to say that shit to you, not when I'm here. I'm sorry that you had to hear that, sweetheart." And for some reason you don't feel disgust except an overwhelming feeling of comfort as the word dances through your ears. You try and fake annoyance but Adler only takes that as further fuel against whatever man had wronged you so.

"Theres no need to apologize, Adler. I already told Rogers off-" you should not have said that, already regretting your words and Adlers chair screeches against the tiled floors, the door being slammed behind him as he storms off to find Rogers.

─────── · ·

The next time you are working with Rogers, he does not even look at you unless you command him to. He does well to hide his face to the best of his ability but it is hard not to notice the black eye or scarring underneath his chin. Tisking to yourself, you tell the agent his next meeting point in the south Mediterranean sea before setting off on your next mission, to find Adler.

It did not take long as he was already waiting in your office. First aid it open and displayed across the documents on your desk. He did not hiss or move as he poured the anti-bacterial fluid over his wounds, his teeth gripping a bandage in wait as he had yet to acknowledge your presence.

"Alder," you scolded like a tired mother before taking the wraps from his teeth and standing between his legs, gently wrapping his hand before pressing a kiss to your work that had both of you chuckling.

"You didn't have to do that, you know. Could have gotten you suspended-"

"You really think they would suspend me, honey?" you blush, shaking your head and taking a step away yet Adler catches your elbow, standing, chests touching as he leans down to get a better look of your face.

"All I'm saying is that you have to take better care of yourself, officer," you retort, eyes quickly casting to his lips before holding his gaze.

Alder smiles, hand now cupping your cheek as you allow yourself to lean into his touch. "Are you sayin' you care about me, (last/name)?" he teases, eyes already knowing the answer by the way in which they crinkle, mirroring your own.

"I care for all of my operatives, Russell Adler."

"But am I really just an operator to you, sweetheart?" his words now nearly a whisper upon your lips that part in wait.

"Well there's only one way to find out-" and his lips were on yours. His hand now holding the back of your head, nudging it upwards as you curved into his touch, hands gripping his shirt and around to his waist. Russell's other hand moved to grip your waist, thumb rubbing circles into your side as you felt his smile upon your lips.

Pulling away, lips puffy and eyes starry as you panted for air, Adler barely gave you anytime to breathe before he was kissing you again. Any papers on your desk were thrown to the floor before Russell was picking you up by the back of your thighs and placing you on the desk, legs spreading to keep you both close.

Standing back to full height, Adler looked at you sprawled out before him, hands morning their way up from the ankles that kept him locked into to place, up to your calves and towards your thighs and lower torso. Your breath gasped as his hands teased at the skin between your waist and shirt, skin tingling, his touch lingering with shared desire.

"Kiss me again," you pleaded.

"Always, Sweetheart."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: If this is recieved well may make another one... 🤷

[rini-rushed]

less doesn’t always mean lukewarm.

☆ sae x reader ^^ (gender not mentioned)

★ fluff or smth, no bllk au

☆ reader is described to have a lot of distraction problems, quick thoughts and random prompts stacked in their head, idk how to explain it i just had this feeling today so i wrote this with emotions tethered to it

notes: based off an experience i had today, except i was spiraling alone + the ending derailed and became SHIT tbh😕

tapping your pen against the pages of your barely touched notebook, you blink as your mind wandered to random places.

what time is it? did you ever submit that report? what does TGIF mean? is modern art actually ugly? did you ever clean out your locker? does it actually make sense to have the metric system? is moving to north pole for the penguins THAT bad of a life plan?

your train of thought was on a roll to say the least, stopping at short term stations, new random and shortsighted ideas and "plans" for side quests pinging in your head.

the notion was quick and swift in your head, twitching your facial muscles ever so slightly as you hopped on one cloud to the next. it was all quite minimally amusing to you, but it certainly wasn't for your study partner.

"stop that."

click!

"stop what?"

you straightened your posture, stopping your pen fidgeting, rolling your eyes to the face in front of you.

"making dumb faces, you haven't even written anything down." sae sighs slightly, you keenly notice the little wrinkle that imprinted itself onto his brow.

then your attention pays itself to the words he just said, you look down at your paper and sure enough, the only markings on your page were little dots that were the outcome of your no-thought-shuffle of your fingers.

you couldn't help but frown a bit, pursing your lips in slight disappointment at the lack of writing done.

at your silence, you could just feel the damn sigh that was stolen from sae's figure, that only dampened your mood a bit, tilting your head lower.

you repositioned the pen in your hand, now in the position of writing, your eyes dragged themself against the table, clawing and resisting as your vision was overwhelmed with words and symbols.

the textbook's big paragraphs made you think and process, like a loading screen over your head, engulfing yourself in mumbo-jumbo, losing yourself in the walls of text.

maybe after rereading the same sentence for the nth time and writing down a singular “the” you already feel drained.

noticing your overwhelmingly heightened distress, sae calmly closes his book and shuts off his laptop silently.

you see his neutral look on his face as he’s gathering his things, you can feel your stomach drop, was he already that annoyed?

you bit the inside of your cheek.

you couldn’t blame him.

so you keep your head and your field of view low as the events played out before you. they come and go, your study partners, your peers.

you gripped your pen a tiny bit harder at the thoughts, now bubbling up from the dark crevices of your heart. doubt and shame inking your insides as it immobilizes your lungs, you could feel your heart-

“what are you doing? come on”

? you look up at him.

“come on stupid, we’re going on a break, we can’t get shit done if you’re like this.”

his words are blunt, but they don’t hurt you, they’re just pointing out the obvious.

he’s being stupid about being nice.

but you don’t hesitate to pack your things too, although you feel his eyes on you as you do so, you don’t feel the weight of pressure.

the weight of needing to check yourself, how you’re perceived, how you’re supposed to be acting. he’s just, observing you.

and so you pack up and follow him out, he takes you to an area that’s slightly more populated, no longer in the library, you’re in the courtyard. he gets you a snack from the vending machine, and opens a bag as you open your mouth.

letting the long stream of thoughts out, sae answer minimally, it was all you really needed, some simple answers for some simple questions.

“what time is it?”

“1:45pm.”

“did I ever submit that report? ”

“you can check now.”

“what does TGIF mean? ”

“thank god it’s friday”

“is modern art actually ugly? ”

“up to you, artists won’t care”

“did I ever clean out my locker? ”

“we don’t use them anymore.”

“does it actually make sense to have the metric system? ”

“americans are stupid.”

“is moving to north pole for the penguins THAT bad of a life plan?”

”yes.”

neither of you really kept track of time, not that either of you bothered to. sae only looked at you with that blank face of his, and your mouth kept moving.

sae knew that this was taking more time than if he had just stayed at the library with you.

but he knew better.

he knew that bitching to you to fix your attitude can’t help with the situation, so why worsen it.

he rather see you being comfortable and “wasting time” rather than being shackled to a task when you’re obviously not mentally into it.

long story short: if it means you’ll be less lukewarm, he’ll take it.

★ 終わり☆

holy shit why was that ending so bad 😢

tags: @tofumiarchives @rinitoshiplzdateme @fishii28

@shrii-kk

@reapkusho @ac3ss @tired-xyra-urstruly

renaissance is such a pretty word btw

[francisforever2014]

can the basement they run AI out of collapse already

[queenof3ferrets]

I don’t think people realize how deep Vil’s character goes. Like-REALLY realize it.

I am an aspiring writer, and I would say I have quite the keen eye so when I see people talking bad about Vil—-I get confused.

YES he seems harsh and pushy. And YES he doesn’t seem to act very nice around people sometimes and he acts cocky 24/7.

But there’s a difference between cocky and knowing your worth. Vil KNOWS his worth. And he isn’t just going to hide it because someone says so. Or because it’s easier to be modest and quiet.

And it’s what Vil is constantly encouraging others to do: to not hide.

But Vil also knows how harsh the world is. An actor can be one of the most hated people in the world because they’re constantly being filmed and people jump on their mistakes like lions hunting a limping giraffe.

So he KNOWS that a glass heart will get someone nowhere.

It’s why he acts so tough. And it’s why he gives tough love to others. If he never teaches his dorm members how to survive they’ll roll over and get killed the moment they step onto the field.

Hence, his harsh actions with Epel.

When Epel cries and storms off, Vil doesn’t scold him for it. He tells Epel to show him if he can hold his ground with his words. And how beauty is a weapon to be wielded well.

Vil scolds Epel when he calls dancing ‘feminine’ or ‘girly’ because he knows that mindset will get the boy nowhere. Vil knows beauty isn’t limited only to the female spectrum and tries to get others to see it as well.

It’s why Vil is so annoyed when Epel skips his routine but also because having a routine and ACTUALLY sticking to it is the hardest thing for some people. And Vil talks about this. (When you log in for the day and you get a reward, Vil LITERALLY talks about how routine and effort is the hardest part about beauty) and if you do keep up the effort it gives rewards.

But Vil also knows not all effort is repaid kindly.

That’s the whole reason he overblotted, basically. He felt inferior because no one saw him put in as much effort as he himself did, and people have the gall to scold him for it. That, or they overlook him for something they thought was better(Neige).

When I write, I don’t EVER want to hear someone I TRUSTED say that my work was second best to another author or that my way of writing was wrong and I should have to change it. Because I put time and effort into writing and it’s something I’m proud of. I put my soul into my writing and it honestly really hurts when someone does the exact things I mentioned before. And I’m sure Vil felt the same way.

Not to mention Vil has been through rough things in his childhood. Other children wanted to hurt him because of his talent for acting just because he played a part in a series too well and they couldn’t tell the difference. Adults never thought he could be a hero because he was too perfect and self-confident. Adults wanted someone like Neige to be the hero because he looked pretty and acted kind. (Basic protagonist things)

And Vil hated it. He gained traumas at a young age because other people alienated him. He grew to hate Neige because in the people’s eyes he was perfect and beautiful. And he grew obsessed with beauty because he didn’t think he was good enough for the hero roll.

His overblot was overdue at this point. Sure his actions should not be immediately forgiven, just like all the other overblotters actions, but they’re NEVER entirely to blame.

Because all of the boys who overblot were victims too. Not just Yuu or the others. They were hurting themselves just as much as others were.

And I hate it when someone like Vil is seen as a overly harsh person. Or someone like Leona who is only seen as lazy. There is so much more to them than that.

Vil respects people.

Vil sees how hard the people around him work.

Vil tries his best to show others their beauty in his way.

Vil knows that gems need to be polished from rocks before they can be embedded into a crown. But the work put in to get the gems ready is rough and long. And sometimes it looks harsh.

Vil learned his lesson after his overblot. There is no need to hang it over his head like blackmail. The same goes for the other overblot characters.

Riddle learned his lesson.

Leona learned his lesson.

Azul learned his lesson.

Jamil learned his lesson.

Vil learned his lesson.

Idia and Ortho learned their lessons.

[angelfoxx]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° “…US?”

…in which their feelings for you become apparent.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, john “soap” mactavish, & keegan p russ I AM SALIVATING

WARNINGS: suggestive, but nothing nsfw. yet 😇 also so sorry i write k**gan’s name and i just get fucked up. i just can’t behave myself. so i lose my mind a little in his section eek

NOTES: excuse my rather small starting lineup; i’m still new to the game and all of its lore and i’d rather get to know the characters first rather than make horrible headcanons based off of their fanon interpretations. you know, like making a six foot ten war criminal dresses in a fucking executioner’s hood a little uwu baby

— SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✧ Everything I see on TikTok regarding this guy makes him seem like a fucking demon in the sheets. I really don’t get that vibe. Especially not at the start of a relationship.

✧ The first time you meet, he thinks you’re attractive. And then he pushes that thought aside, because he’s a soldier. He’s actively at work doing a high-risk, high-stress job. You’re attractive, yes, but he’s not going to pursue you. This is not the right time for that.

✧ Things develop after…like, a long ass time. And it’s not sexual in the start. It’s, like…you’re cleaning your gun down after a mission, and you get a clean rag thrown into your lap. You look up into those hollow soulless fucking eyes and Ghost just shrugs, not meeting your gaze but instead just vaguely gesturing at your gun. “Your rag’s dirty. You’re rubbin’ dirt int’a the thing.”

✧ It’s small things like that. Things that are helpful but always laced with a comment that could be considered sort of rude or abrasive. He doesn’t notice; he only realizes that he’s coming off as rude and probably pushing you away after he makes a comment on your form being lazy and Price, sort of quietly laughing, asks why he’s so insistent on snarking on you. He replies that mistakes like yours could get you hurt. Which, they could. But so could everyone else’s, and he doesn’t make comments about them. So…?

✧ Phase two of him trying to…hit on you? Exist with you? Who fucking knows. Anyways, he just stops talking. He’ll still throw you clean rags, but he won’t make a comment about how using a dirty rag is ruining your gun. He’ll still make a point out of sweeping fallen food and shit off of your spot at the table after you eat, but he doesn’t grumble and scoff at you not to waste anymore. He resorts to silent acts of service to the point where it gets annoying. He’s always quiet, but now he’s unnervingly quiet and honestly, is it still him if he doesn’t catch you for random things every now and then?

✧ The silent stage can go on forever, so a catalyst really saves you. The catalyst comes when a new recruit gets a little too aggressive; a small argument about your ability on the field turns into a minor brawl. Aforementioned brawl immediately ends when the recruit dares to put their hands on you and shove you and Ghost, like some six-foot-one demon cast from the pits of hell, appears behind you and gets very up close and personal with them. Asking what the hell they think they’re doing, asking if they think that’s a good way to have a team on the field, et cetera, et cetera. Basically, he makes the recruit feel like absolute shit. Oh, and he doesn’t look at you the entire time.

✧ So, obviously, now you have a weird situation at hand. You’re getting ready to go to sleep and everyone’s sort of looking at you funny, because there’s no reason for a fucking lieutenant to jump in and break up an argument like that—pulling people apart, sure, but not so suddenly and not so aggressively. The recruit hasn’t spoken to you. Ghost hasn’t spoken to you. So, anyways, you pay him a visit.

✧ You go down to say thanks, and for some fucking reason, the guy can’t take a compliment. Or gratitude. He says you were slower than the other recruit, that it’ll get you killed on the field, et cetera. He can’t just shut up and take the thanks.

“I’m telling you, I…I came down here to thank you, of all things. Can you cut the criticism one time and accept it?”

Ghost stiffens. It’s not a thousand-yard stare anymore. It’s just a wide, pissed-off glare. For a long minute, he’s silent. And then…

“Welcome.” His voice is grumpish. “Happy?”

“Sure.” You manage a little smile. It’s sort of funny; he can’t just take your thank you and drop it. “It’s improvement.”

Ghost nods once, albeit stiffly. “Okay.”

“…so, you gonna tell me why you did it?” You ask it as a joke. You aren’t dumb. You know he wants you gone. You’re expecting a harsh “get out” or something of the like. You aren’t expecting an answer.

“Disrespect makes ignorance. Ignorance makes casualties.” Oh. An actual real, reasonable answer. Surprising. Ghost himself seems a little surprised; he blinks owlishly again, and he doesn’t say anything else. He’s just a big guy standing in a little room with a skull mask on.

“Oh.” You swallow. “That’s…rational.”

“Were you expecting irrational?”

“No. I wasn’t expecting anything.” You scoff. “You’re not exactly chatty.”

“I don’t waste words.” Ghost’s eyes narrow. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t call you dumb.” You shrug. “I’m just surprised you gave me an answer that wasn’t bitching at me.”

“I don’t bitch.”

“You do.”

“I’m not a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl, recruit. I don’t bitch.”

“Even Price thinks you bitch. At me, at least. All the time.”

✧ Price thinks he bitches at you? And he’d told you? Oh, no, no. Externally, Ghost is stiff and stoic. Internally, Ghost is shitting bricks. Price had told you that? Straight-up told you that? Oh, no. You and Price talk and he comes up in conversation? Oh, no, no, no.

✧ He addresses this with Price, obviously. Storms in all puffed-out and pissy and asks what the hell he’s doing gossiping about his soldiers and Price just sort of laughs him off, asking what he’s talking about and then why he’s so upset that he’s bringing up one of his best men to one of the recruits.

✧ Oh.

✧ Ghost swears up and down it’s not like that. He swears and he bangs the side of his hand on the table and he curses on his own heart that it’s not like that but the whole time Price is laughing because in all of the years that he’s known Simon, not once has Simon broken through Ghost. But now, he has. The stumbling over words, the defensive aggression, the way he’s pacing so furiously—oh, Simon Riley is melting down inside that big mask and it’s equal parts heartbreaking and hilarious.

✧ Cue Price becoming a wingman. Ghost swears he’ll kill him every time he puts you two together to spar or puts you two on cleanup duty or god fucking forbid you’re in the doghouse doing some foul task and Ghost has to watch you. God fucking damn the captain, because he knows Ghost will grumble and complain but with you, he’ll eventually stop that in favor of helping you. And it’s sort of heartwarming for him to do his nightly rounds and it’s all quiet but there’s voices coming out of the kitchen and he can hear Ghost in that gruff, grumbly tone telling you how to mop and you snidely telling him that if you can’t do it right, then maybe he should do it instead. And he objects, of course, and then within ten minutes Price watches Ghost’s shadow come up to yours and he hears the mop change hands.

✧ It takes you a long time to realize that you’re really being assigned to Ghost’s side for every fucking thing you do. It takes you an even longer time to realize that Price tends to pass by you two on occasion, and every time he does, he’s smiling. And it takes you a ridiculously long time to realize that Ghost isn’t always radiating heat; whenever he takes the mop from you or takes the gun you’re cleaning from you, whenever he finishes off a task that you’ve started, it’s not that he’s always that hot. It’s that, under that mask, he’s flushed.

✧ It takes you a very, very long time to realize that the legendary Ghost has taken an actual liking to you.

— JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH.

✧ Thank fucking god this guy is next. Slow burn ass Ghost makes me want to rip my eyes out. Just have passionate angry sex and talk about your feelings after. Christ.

✧ It’s not exactly a secret that the minute you arrived on base, you gained an admirer.

✧ Soap isn’t someone who rarely gets hooked on someone else. The guy’s a walking heart eyes emoji. The difference with you was that it wasn’t the kind of attraction that had him sweet-talking you over drinks that night.

✧ This was different. Rather than chase, Soap wanted to impress — and, well, he tried. He tried his fucking hardest. He tried so hard the other higher-ups noticed. How embarrassing.

✧ Every time you’re in the room, he somehow gets even chattier. His voice drops. If he’s working out, he starts loading weights onto the bar he’s using to an almost comical degree. He loses his fucking mind. It’s like he short circuits. Which is ridiculous, because he’s a fucking soldier. What the fuck is he doing trying to lift five hundred pounds on a Tuesday morning? Why is he freaking the fuck out?

✧ The thing is, right, is you’re not exactly hovering over the guy. You have your own agenda to adhere to and also, it would be really weird if you just started laying praises on him, so you go about your day as regular and poor Soap is left heartbroken and also achy-armed because you literally could not care less that he’s lifting double, triple his body weight.

✧ Literally every higher-up notices. They make jokes about it and he borders on threatening friendly fire. It’s just a little crush. That’s all it is. Yeah. And so when you’re all doing team sparring and you keep winning, he’s just watching you like a lovesick puppy because it’s just a little crush. That’s all.

✧ Price can’t have his soldiers slacking off. Of course not. He can’t have them getting lazy — so he orders Soap to go up against you. Because, you know, he seems out of it and you’re the best of the recruits, so you’ll go against someone better. Yeah. That’s why he calls him out.

✧ God bless the poor guy. He panics for like three seconds and then makes a very thickly-accented taunt about how it’s unfair to you to go up against him. You, of course, in the spirit of good fun, reply to his taunt and tell him to prove it.

✧ He goes into the circle with you. He goes into the circle with you and he fucking falls apart.

You’ve quickly learned that talking is Soap’s weakness. If his mouth is moving, his feet fall behind.

“Get enough sleep last night, MacTavish?” You dodge a flying fist. “You look a little sleepy.”

“Got plenty.” A wry grin crosses his face. “Don’t worry about my beauty sleep.”

“I have reason to. You need it.” You wrinkle your nose. “Bad.”

Soap’s jaw drops slightly, and — there! — he hesitates. Probably out of surprise, but it’s enough. Deftly, you lunge in at his knees, swipe them out, and…hm. Simple. Almost too easy, actually, to pin him.

Soap’s heart is pounding under your hand. His chest is flat against the ground, but you can feel it through his back, which is wild in and of itself. He grunts when his cheek hits the ground; he mumbles something akin to “bloody hell”, but you can’t quite make out the words.

Grinning, you sit back and kick your heel up against his neck, keeping his head pinned down. The cheering you receive mostly comes from recruits who are impressed with your skill.

The minority is higher-ups, exchanging amused glances. They seem awfully humored with the sight of one of their own being pinned so easily by a new recruit. Hmm…

✧ From that point on, Soap somehow manages to watch more of your sparring sessions. He usually just watches, rather than critique; if you ask, he’ll just say you certainly seem to be doing fine. If you ask for help, though, he’ll help you. Christ, he’ll help you. He’ll genuinely spend time assisting you on whatever is troubling you.

✧ Eventually, after a long training day, you decide to ask Soap to join you in the ring. You genuinely just want to see how you stack up to a “better” opponent; you’ve apparently pushed beating him to the side. Or you just want to do it again. He doesn’t think of that, though.

✧ He’ll come in (after teasing you just a bit) and he will spar with you, just giving you advice and pointers mid-action. He’s whipped, but he’s also still a trained soldier. He knows what he’s doing, and once he gets through the brain fog you seem to weigh down onto him, he is genuinely helpful.

✧ Still, after you’re both hot and panting and finished and resting on the sidelines, you have to ask him why he helps you so much. You have to ask if it’s because he thinks you’re lacking, or bad, or if it’s some sort of personal vendetta for that one time in front of the recruits and the higher-ups.

✧ Soap just laughs and, rather awkwardly, rubs at his neck. He avoids eye contact, and he bites his lip, and he tilts his head around before he dares answer you, tone sheepish. “Consider it a, ah, personal interest.”

— KEEGAN P RUSS.

✧ SHITS MYSELF VIOLENTLY. SO SORRY

✧ i love this fucking man so very much and i don’t know jack shit abt him because i need to play ghosts and get the first hand experience like I don’t want to spoil his character but I URRRGHHGGGGG

✧ imma try to do him justice but sorry if im missing on important lore

✧ He’s not as uptight as Ghost, but he’s not as whipped as Soap. He’s somewhere in the middle; he’s aware that you’re attractive but he does push it aside. He’s working. You’re working. He doesn’t have time for that, and it’s also a safety concern. He remembers what they did to Ajax, and god fucking forbid they try to pull that shit with anyone else to use as bait.

✧ When he’s at base, he’s busy. He’s devoted to his work and he doesn’t cut corners to chit-chat. The most social he’ll really get is at dinner; he’s the kind of person who will eat with the group, but rather than talk, he’ll really just listen. he’s me fr fr

✧ Getting to know Keegan is sort of awkward because he’s just not super outgoing. He’s attractive (if your radio is on and you don’t buckle at the knees the first time you hear his sexy deep pantywetting voice over the thing, are you even real?) and he’s got the whole mysterious quiet guy thing down, and yet when you approach him to try and strike up a conversation with a simple question (“So how was your day?”) he’s prone to just looking at you and raising a brow and answering sort of flatly. (“Same as every other one. What, did something happen?”)

✧ Most of your bonding actually occurs when it’s just the two of you. You’ve bumped into him late at night before — sometimes he’s at the range shooting targets and fiddling with a variety of weapons, or sometimes he’s in the kitchen scouring the shelves, or sometimes he’s in the gym working out when nobody is there to bother him and ogle his fine ass fucking body holy shit his thighs. He’s a little easier to talk to at night, actually. Maybe it’s the lack of a crowd, but the first time you stumble into him making himself a pot of fucking tea at damn near midnight, he actually seems friendly.

“What are you making?” For a moment, you panic, thinking that you might’ve just scared the shit out of poor Keegan by speaking so suddenly and from behind where he’s standing beside the sink, a little humming kettle in front of him. His shoulders god his fuckinf shoulders i want to lick them don’t so much as twitch, though — and then you remember the guy’s entire job is stealth and observation. Hell, he probably heard you across camp.

“Tea.” Yeah, he couldn’t sound less concerned. His voice is as low and gravelly as usual; he sounds a little more relaxed, actually, not so brash and shout-y. “Chamomile.”

“Sergeant Russ drinks chamomile tea?” You laugh a little, sort of tentatively. You two aren’t strangers, but you’ve only had a few conversations…if you can call brief exchanges conversations, of course.

“…yeah?” Keegan actually sounds confused; it’s dark in the kitchen, but you can make out the outline of his head turning over his shoulder. “What, you got a problem with that?”

“No. No, sir. No problem.” You shrug. “I just didn’t peg you to be the chamomile tea type.”

“Didn’t you?” The short scoffish bark Keegan lets out is a brief laugh. “What did you peg me for?”

“Dunno. Black, I guess.”

“Are you calling me boring?”

“No.”

Keegan hums in response to that. He busies himself with pouring his tea and thank fucking god your eyes have adjusted to the dim light in here because god, his fucking hip to waist ratio under that gear is something wicked and you let your conversation slip. You’re in here for a snack, but you don’t want to bother—

“You come in here for somethin’ other than staring?” Oh. Good. This is the Keegan you’d expected after hearing him sass half of his team on comms. You can hear the edge of a grin in his voice; there’s a shuffle as he turns around and then a wooden groan as he leans against the counter. A short second later, you hear the almost exaggerated slurp of tea.

“Crackers. I’m hungry.”

A wooden scrubbing sound. He’s moved over, presumably to let you open the cabinet housing boxes of sort of dry, not particularly good crackers. He doesn’t say a word; he just keeps drinking his tea and pretends to ignore you as you make your way over, crouching down to fumble for a bag of crackers. Pretend, because you can feel that he’s watching you. His presence on the field is invisible; his gaze in the kitchen is not. Still, he doesn’t bother you; he lets you get your crackers and retire to the edge of the counter across from him to snack, and he doesn’t say a word.

“Are you always so quiet?” You gesture vaguely at the slight shape of him. “Is it just part of the job?”

Keegan laughs, more to himself than in response to you. “Sure.”

✧ He is, generally, pretty quiet. His usual demeanor is laid-back and observant; if he’s not under stress, though, and you start talking to him, he’ll respond almost always with something mildly sarcastic. You come to learn that he isn’t actually boring. He’s got a quick sense of occasionally-dark humor. Sometimes he laughs at his own jokes—usually after he’s started to walk away from you. He’s fiercely protective of the Ghosts and any recruits training near or with them. He also doesn’t seem to mind you.

✧ You’d hesitate to say you two were friends — it always seemed like there was something in between you, though you couldn’t name what — but you were friendly, and it was nice.

✧ During group dinners, he’d stand against the wall behind you. Or across from you, though usually doing that meant that he’d make a game out of trying to get you to squirm under his constant staring. He’d run into you late-night in the kitchen and make casual, not uncomfortable, small talk. Hell, at one point he offered you a drink post-training and made a sort of point to always offer you one whenever you had returned to base and were lingering around in the later hours.

✧ After a particularly long day, you find him in the kitchen, just drinking straight from the bottle. He offers you the thing — he seems more than a little tipsy, but when you decline (he’s been drinking directly from it, and…the fuck does army hygiene look like?) he sort of half-laughs and says, sarcastically, “What d’you look so horrified for? Too good to share a bottle, princess?” and then he immediately excused himself afterward.

✧ You know that saying, “drunk words are sober thoughts”? Yeah. Yeah.

✧ i need the fatty part of keegans thigh in my mouth right now i need to bite it i need to bite it and go rrrrrahrhrahrah like a fucking rabid dog

[gaijinhunter]

I am writing this as a Tumblr post because I don't want to make a video, as I feel this person is just trying to engagement bait me so he can grow his channel. Looking at his videos, he has seen an increase in views for videos that have been clickbait or trying to "call out" something. I guess you gotta do what you gotta do to grow your channel, but I am not about that.

Iixxion recently made a video and for the third time already, is rambling on about how he has been annoyed that he ran into people that referred to the portable series of MH games as being developed by a different "B team" than the ones that make the non-portable game's "A team". Of course, that notion is incorrect, anyone with a brain knows that both lines of MH games are created by Division 2 in Capcom Osaka and that there is plenty of overlap between titles in terms of staff. He argues that this misconception is the cause of tribalism and animosity in the MH community and is the single most dangerous issue in terms of growing the user base. My perspective is that there is indeed a divide on people who like the portable series and those who don't (which is fine!), and released platforms also contributed to that division, but no one is writing off any mainline game (MH, MHF, MHG, MHF2, MH2, MHFU, MH3, MH3U, MHP3, MH4, MH4U, MHGen, MHGU, World, Iceborne, Rise, Sunbreak) because it was made by some separate unrelated team.

The issue is that he blames me for this apparent misconception and points to my video from 2020 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhpDnFU6lAo) where I cover the rich history of KH games and how each of the games and the portable series' games, have influenced the franchise as a whole and what features each entry introduced. He says that my video is one of the main sources of this division and that it is somehow my vague wording around the different teams on each MH title has caused horrible damage and that I am irresponsible and lazy for this. (BRUH)

Not only was my video just 4 years ago and focused on the development history and features of each title, if there was tribalism between console and portable games, that existed long before 2020. But he uses a Staw Man argument to "call me out" which is to argue against the notion of an A team and B team that are completely separate from each other, which isn't something I ever said in the first place. When i corrected him, he counters with "so you agree with me then" and that is when I realized it would be useless to discuss with him and took a look across his past videos and found a pattern of engagement farming, so I decided to just delete my comments on his videos and walk away from it.

If you want to make an argument against vague wording, it could be him saying the only consistent difference between the members that work on a "console" game versus the "portable series" games is the Director. That OFC is not true.

Some fun data looking at staff rolls.

Very natural overlap in the areas that you'd imagine with game design and programming being the main specialized fields.

Now if you want to argue semantics, then there isn't even a "monster hunter team"--it simply doesn't exist. Only Capcom developers exist and if you had to split them into distinct teams, that is Division 1 and 2.

He would likely say "see, he is supporting my argument, told you!" or "why weren't you this clear in your history video" but that is because he is making a false connection between some crap he read online, and my video and he sees me as the main cause of this "tribalism". A very disappointing conclusion he came to. My video wasn't about team compositions, it was about the franchise title history, and I pulled and used data all from official sources and interviews with the directors themselves.

I guess when you work hard across multiple years to make fun and hopefully informative videos on a franchise, the more you get targeted with bad faith arguments or engagement farming. Doesn't make it less tiring...

Stop worrying about reddit user tribalism over console/portable games, the games do have a different game design philosophy and on different consoles, so some division is to be expected, and we have so much cool news to focus on than to waste time creating drama for clicks. Be better.

-Gaijinhunter

[dragonbarbie]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 - modern!aemond targaryn x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: academic rivals, where revision has the same rules as strip poker

word count: 3.8k

tags: mature content, smut, modern!au, reader being petty and competitive, aemond also being petty and competitive, guest appearance by aegon

note: this is like… my first attempt at writing smut so ….*clown emoji* anyway hope you like it

y/n was used to being number 1. all throughout high school, be it history or physics – she had the highest grade in every class and was managing to do so without much effort, really. she hadn’t expected that to change when she landed her dream university, dragonstone. but when she arrived she had the rude shock of getting acquainted with aemond targaryen. first day of their valyrian history class, she had expected to impress her professor with the extensive knowledge on the subject that had been one of her favourites in high school, but when she found herself being beaten to the punch by the blonde bastard, she took an instant dislike to him.

pettily enough, as everyone was leaving the class, she made a show of saying “suck-up” in a not so quiet whisper as she passed him by. “excuse me?” his condescending, posh tone made her eyes roll. “all i did was answer his questions. i wasn’t the one gushing about the books he had written.” he sharply pointed out. “whatever.” she tried to brush off the retort. “if you’re so jealous, maybe actually read before class next time, instead of whining.” he coolly stated as he stalked off, leaving her behind as she gritted her teeth and glared at his striding figure.

from that point onwards, every class that she shared with him, she made a deliberate effort to work extra hard for. she went beyond just the recommended readings, she would write extra few hundred words for every essay, and for every test she would spend hours in preparation. still, frustratingly, all of this effort only made her good competition for him and not the outright winner. it seemed that aemond targaryen was in fact used to going beyond just the bare minimum, she didn’t ever see him take a break. if he wasn’t at the library, she found him sweating it out on the track field. his perfection was downright annoying.

what her friend baela found annoying, was the detail with which y/n would observe (obsess over) his daily behaviour and then rant about it to her. by the time finals week was on the horizon, she was just about done with y/n’s obsession.

y/n had been in the middle of ranting about how she had caught aemond revising for finals on the treadmill, when baela slammed the book that was open in front of her with frustration. “why don’t you just join him then?” she sarcastically asked, earning a “yeah right” from y/n who returned back to her notes as she realised that all this talk of her rival had clearly seemed to drive her friend to the point of irritation. “actually… why not?” though she had asked the question rhetorically, baela soon realised that perhaps that wasn’t such a crazy idea after all. y/n, did not share that understanding. she blinked back at her “i’m sorry am i supposed to say something or just wait in silence while you regain your senses. what are you talking about?”

“you said it yourself, you study better with a partner. and i don’t have any of the same classes as you.” the thought of baela having fun studying marine biology while y/n had to suffer aemond targaryen’s presence all alone at the history department was a point that brought her great sadness each day. “he does. and you have to admit it, he’s pretty good.”

as soon as y/n opened her mouth with a retort right on her tongue, baela silenced her with one pointed sentence “i have one reply to all your objections — keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

oh, y/n thought, she’d never thought of it that way. “besides,” baela reopened the book she had shut, “this way you can keep an even closer eye on his schedule.” she teased.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

aemond somehow didn’t need to lift his eye to know who it was that had approached the corner library desk that had become his unofficial residence for finals weeks. “can i help you, l/n?” he asked, as she stopped before him. “no, but i can certainly help you, targaryen.” she announced, pulling out the chair across from him and putting her laptop bag down on the desk. he wordlessly raised his brow as she made herself comfortable. “look—” she knew that selling the idea to him was going to be just as hard as it was for it to be sold to her, but she was as stubborn as she was competitive, “—if we work together, our work will be halved. i can beat your ass at history of tyrosh and the origins of dorne any day of the week, and you are marginally better than me at valyrian history and aegon’s conquest. i am proposing that we sit and quiz each other on the exam portions and that way we’re both covered for our weaker subjects.”

she did not like the smug smirk that overcame his face at the suggestion. “so, you’ve come here to grovel for my help?” she could punch his perfect white teeth in. “look you little shit, while everyone on campus will be sweating and crying and chugging copious amounts of energy drinks to survive this week – we could be sailing through it, if we do this. our rivalry’s entertaining and all, but the stress of finals week will make even your fabulous hair fall out.”

“hmm.” he considered her words for a second. she rolled her eyes as he seemed to revel in making her wait for his response, “c’mon, targaryen, do it for the hair.” she was sure she saw his lips twitch upwards at her teasing.

“fine.” he finally gave in, causing y/n to sigh in relief, “but if you can’t keep up, i’m dropping you.” “likewise.” y/n promised.

she had to admit, studying with aemond was actually not that bad. their reading speed was similar, he kept her on her toes with his constant quizzing, and initially he had seemed to be singularly focused on the task at hand. as the days went on though, y/n found that they had actually started to talk of things beyond dead king and queens. “so, you’re like, related to the conqueror?” she asked as a manner of taking a break from their revision of her least favourite class, the conquest of westeros. “yeah, directly. he’s a great-great, times ten, grandfather.” he answered, turning the signet ring on his hand subconsciously. “that’s cheating, then. i’d be great at that class too if daddy had told me tales of grandpa aegon every night before bed.” she shrugged as she reached to grab the pot of black coffee, to refill her cup.

“well, ‘daddy’ didn’t even bother saying goodnight most nights, so let’s not attribute any of my success to him.” she looked up at him suddenly at the off-handed admission about his home life, but before she could really react, he added. “you just want there to be more to why i’m better than you, rather than accepting – i just am.” there was that smug smirk again, the one that she used to loath. but nowadays, that same smile was more playful than hostile, she had noted. “or, i’m trying to figure out if being an asshole is just who you are, or if it runs in your family. aegon burned half of westeros down to colonise it, so I’m leaning towards the latter.” “colonise?” he was clearly irritated at her choice of words. “one race of people, the valyrians, through violence made another race, the first men, submit to them. that’s the textbook definition of colonisation, is it not?” she raised her brow, inviting him to debate her. she knew it was the subject he felt most passionate about, and thus, it was the class where she would most often find herself playing devil’s advocate, for no reason other than to oppose whatever view aemond had taken. in their revision sessions, too, she liked to watch the passion light a fire in his eye whenever she would declare his opinion was wrong. he looked hot when he was academically pissed off.

“westeros was just different war lord states fighting for dominance until aegon united the seven kingdoms.” he firmly argued. “so what, that gave him open invite to just come and take over?” she challenged, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied grin at having gotten him so riled up already. he opened his mouth to throw his retort at her, when suddenly the door to aemond’s apartment, where they had been studying, swung open to disturb the proceedings.

she saw a man with platinum blonde hair that matched aemond’s stumbling as he entered the apartment with his arm around a beautiful girl, with black hair hanging down to her waist.

aemond, she noted, was visibly annoyed at this.

“oh, did we spoil your little study session?” the other man rhetorically asked, without any real remorse in his tone, his words slurring to indicate that he had been drinking. he sat himself down on the sofa next to y/n, uninvited, a move that inexplicably made aemond’s jaw tighten. “you must be my little brother’s study buddy, y/n. i know all about you, and i’m sure he’s told you nothing about me. i’m aegon, the nerd’s big bro.” y/n was immediately amused at the thought of this man, who was decked in a supreme tracksuit and who’s hair seemed to have been left uncombed, was the perfect, prim and proper aemond’s elder brother. “nice to meet you, aegon. are you studying at the university too?” “business major, yeah, graduating next year.” he replied stretching his hand to place it behind y/n. aemond snorted at his brother, “with the way your finals prep is going, i would not bother wasting money on a graduation gown.” he eyed the woman with whom aegon had entered, judgement clear in his eye.

“hey! i decided to follow your lead and i’ve asked cassandra here to be my study buddy. i’ve actually gone one step further than you and invented the best revision method.” he declared. aemond seemed to have no curiosity at his brother’s statement, but y/n asked “do tell.” aegon turned to her with a pleased smile, “it’s revision, but with strip poker rules.” he simply answered.

she raised a brow at his response, “as in…?” “as in you quiz each other, and every time one of you gets an answer wrong – you take an item of clothing off. it’s a win-win, if you get the answer right, good job, you know your shit. if you don’t…. well, its so much more fun if you don’t.” y/n had to purse her lips to suppress the laughter at the back of her throat.

at the sound of aemond packing up his books, she looked away from aegon to the younger brother. “let’s go to your dorm, y/n. he definitely doesn’t know his shit, and his ‘revision’ tends to be loud.”

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

as per y/n’s prediction, final’s week had indeed sailed by for aemond and her because of their revision sessions. they only had one exam left now, and it was the one they had both been dreading the most – historical methods. it was a subject that was so boring and plainly simple, that they knew it was easy enough to study for, but they could not bring themselves to revise something so mind-numbingly dull.

y/n, in her frustration, threw her notes on the table at aemond’s apartment. aemond, seated on the other end of the sofa from where y/n was lying on her back, shared her frustration, but he tended to be more stoic and was determined to finish the work on hand. “it’s just a few more topics, and then you never have to think about the subject ever again.” he tried to placate her. “it’s too boring, i can’t do it!” she complained bringing her hands up to her face in frustration. aemond couldn’t help but notice how the action made the t-shirt she was wearing ride up and expose soft skin just above her jean shorts, his eye remaining fixed on the spot for a second too long.

then, the mixture of a caffeine high and a boredom that was seeming like an unending chasm, gave birth to what y/n thought was a brilliant idea. she moved her fingers slightly, so only her eyes would poke out from behind them. “let’s try your brother’s idea.” she suddenly said, “i don’t think anyone has ever said that sentence before.” he remarked.

“i’m serious.” she sat up, as if to indicate her earnestness. “the ‘revision, but with strip poker rules’ idea, let’s try it.”

aemond’s expression was unreadable as she watched him, but she was certain she saw his adam’s apple move at the suggestion. “it’s a dumb idea.” he said, but his throat had gone dry at the thought.  y/n rolled her eyes, “that’s the point! it’ll break the monotony.” she crawled to his side of the sofa. “come on, aemond. don’t be a coward.” the suggestion of him even possibly being cowardly had clearly set off something in him. “fine.” he shut the book in his hand and placed it on the table.

they quizzed each other, and it was going much the same as their usual quizzing went, which disappointed y/n since it did not in fact break the monotony as she had wanted. that was until, in her over-confidence, she got a question wrong. “well…” aemond seemed to be very satisfied indeed at her wrong answer, “are you going to do the honours or are you ready to admit that you’re the only coward here?” he scanned the white t-shirt she was wearing, almost with hunger and an expectancy, y/n thought.

she pulled the shirt off over her head, and threw it right at his smug face, “i’m no coward.” he caught it with ease, and for a split second she was sure he smelling it as he held it to his face, before dropping it in his lap. when he looked at her now, he didn’t even attempt to hide how he was taking in her figure, as she sat exposed only in her black bra. knowing that she was being watched, she sat straighter, even as she muttered “pervert” but made no attempt to hide her form.

 “please, don’t even try to pretend like you don’t love it.” now, that did take her aback. sure, she had caught him looking at her chest or her ass many-a time over their study sessions, and had done nothing to stop it, but she hadn’t realised that he had in fact, caught her catching him when he looked. he knew she had allowed it all this while, unspoken.

the monotony was certainly broken now.

when it was next aemond’s turn to ask a question, he threw her an easy one, a question she had answered in class. but y/n shrugged and said, “i don’t know”, as an answer. aemond snorted at her, “yeah, you do.”

she simply laid on her back as she undid her shorts and slid them down her legs, eyes never leaving aemond’s as she did. he wet his lower lip with his tongue, and then bit down as he watched. his eye trailed her bare legs, up to her panties, with very little being left to his imagination now that she sat only in her underwear on his sofa.

“my turn” she had the perfect trick question in mind, and when he called her out, saying “there is no right answer to that”, she shrugged once again. “are you going to do the honours or are you ready to admit that you’re the only coward here?” she threw his words back in his face with a grin.

he didn’t seem to need a lot of convincing. he pulled off his shirt in one swift move, and y/n felt her stomach clench at the sight of defined muscles on pale skin. she took a minute to memorise his details before she asked him the next question, but she hadn’t even reached the end of it before aemond was unbuttoning his pants, answering the question by simply saying “don’t know, don’t care.” it seemed as if he was in a hurry, as if he had waited long enough for this moment.

y/n seemed to be in a hurry too, when she deliberately gave a rushed, wrong answer to his next question. she moved her knees to straddle him where he sat, able to feel everything through her own cotton panties over his satin boxers. “need some help with the bra hooks.” she said as an excuse for her action. he readily obliged, with his hands reaching behind her and unhooking her bra with ease, letting the material fall down to the floor. his hands trailed up from her waist to her chest, pale hands first covering and then roughly squeezing her breasts. she started to rock back and forth where she sat, her now wet panties grinding against his obvious bulge.

“it’s your turn to ask.” she breathlessly reminded him after a minute, “fuck revision.” he was trailing kisses around her collar bone, sucking hard enough to leave bruises, she was certain. ““fuck revision”? who are you and what have you done to aemond targaryen?” she chuckled. he only gave her a growl in return, as his arms snaked around her waist to hold her up and then place her back down, with her back hitting the soft sofa.

he hovered over her for a second, supporting himself on his knees as his fingertips traced her side. “you look so hot when you’re concentrating….” he murmured, seemingly out of nowhere, as his fingers found the waistband of her panties and hooked under them. “…and when you’re debating me….” he pulled the cloth over her legs, and his hand reached down to the wetness between her legs “… and especially, when someone tells you you’re right.” a shiver went down her spine she felt two of his cold fingers in her folds. “already so wet for me.” he chuckled.

“oh, would you stop being a tease and just…” at her complaint he withdrew his fingers suddenly, causing her to whine. “just what?” he asked, making her feel more frustrated with him than she had ever felt before. “did you really think i was going to let go of the perfect opportunity to make you beg for me? make you beg me, to fuck you?” oh, there was that stupid fucking smug smirk once again. Now, it was no secret that y/n had too much pride, especially when it came to facing off with aemond targaryen. but as she lay there, exposed and achingly wet, she decided she had to bury her pride to get what she wanted.

“aemond…” she swallowed, “fuck me.” that did not seem to give him what he wanted. he cocked his head to one side, “hmm. you’re missing something.” she huffed, thinking why he had to make this so difficult, and how satisfied he must be at getting her in this position. “aemond…fuck me….please.”

at that, he grinned. he bent down to be inches away from her face, “as you wish.”

she felt two of his fingers enter her suddenly, making her gasp. his fingers curled inside of her roughly, at the same time he started to kiss the side of her neck with more gentleness than she had expected of him. the dichotomy gave her a high. his fingers continued their assault, as her hands tangled themselves in his hair. “so tight…” he whispered against her ear, “how long have you been thinking about this, you little slut?” y/n could only hum back, not capable of formulating a well thought-out response.

Her legs clenched as he continued to dig his fingers inside of her with perfect rhythm. His thumb reached up to massage her clit, as her hand reach down to grab the arm that was inside of her, nails leaving scratch marks. A warmth spread around inside her stomach at the feeling.

when he suddenly pulled his fingers out, she groaned in frustration, “has anyone ever told you, you have no patience?” he tutted. y/n rolled her eyes as she sat forward and her hands moved to finally remove his boxers, “yes.”

with his boxers now discarded, he positioned her to lay back down on the sofa, her legs around his waist. his tip grazed her core, but he didn’t enter her which only added to her annoyance. “aemond, i swear to the old gods and the new, if you tease me for a second longer—” she was cut off by him slamming inside of her suddenly. “ah!” she moaned as he filled her, “that ought to shut you up.” he grunted, supporting himself by keeping a hand on the arm of the sofa that was beneath her head. “oh, gods… aemond…” she could feel him touching her spot, legs growing weaker with each thrust.

he was going at it with a ruthless pace, leaving her feeling helpless and satisfied at the same time. his mouth dipped and he began sucking on her nipple, his teeth grazing where she was sensitive, making her yelp in pleasure. she grabbed his shoulder, grip strong enough leave even more marks. as she felt his tongue circle the skin around her nipple, she made a mental note to tell his brother that she had come to agree that his method of revising was indeed ingenious.

“aemond…i’m…” she had begun to say, “yeah baby, almost there” he replied lifting his head to her face. he tucked a stray stand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture that felt more intimate than the sex. he placed his hand on her cheek before his lips finally met hers. she could taste the black coffee they had been drinking on his tongue, mixed with something minty like toothpaste. for all the roughness with which he fucked her, y/n realised that the kiss felt sweet, tender almost.

“fuck…” he said against her lips, and she could tell he was close too. “aemond…ah!” she reached her peak, just as he pulled out and finished on her stomach.

panting, breathless and sore, for once y/n did not have a retort in the presence of aemond targaryen. he seemed rather speechless too, as he remained above her, unspeaking but his eye refusing to leave her face. he seemed to be in deep thought, and just when he opened his mouth to speak, a different voice could be heard from down the hall.

“and you called my ‘revising’ loud.” aegon snorted, leaning against his bedroom door.

[writethrough]

Connection

(Billy Hargrove x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: You stumble across Billy when you go to stargaze. He seeks you out each time after. (Based on an urge I had to write an unconsciously cuddly Billy.)

Warnings: Language, mentions of Neil and his abuse

Word Count: 2380

A/N: Okay, so I know yesterday I said about you all not being ready, but now that I've read this after a day, I'm not so confident in that statement. It's nice and all, but I think I let the whole "wrote this story in one sitting" get to my head. Anyway, let me know what you think! Also, I don't use feminine pronouns in this, but one part of this may lean toward the reader being a female, so if anyone thinks I should change this to a Billy x Fem!Reader, message me!

Billy Hargrove was the last person you expected to see in your field.

You supposed, technically, it wasn’t your field, but you did come here whenever possible. It was the best place for stargazing.

It was close enough that you could walk there from home. Your backpack was stuffed with two blankets, snacks, and water.

You saw Billy before he noticed you. He sat on the hood of his car, the smoke from his cigarette drifting to you on the breeze.

Cordial would be the best way to describe your relationship with him. Neither of you really spoke, but his sister had become your friend, so awkward pleasantries were as deep as you and Billy went.

You should probably say something to him. It’d be weirder if you didn’t.

Before you could, Billy looked over his shoulder, squinting over your flashlight until he could see you.

“What’re you doing out here?” Billy asked, turning back around.

“Could ask you the same,” you said, slipping your hands into your pockets.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, lips tugging down.

“You should go home. It’s late,” he said. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

You bit the inside of your cheek. He clearly didn’t want to be disturbed, and you weren’t about to poke the bear.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you. I’ll just be over there.” You gestured with your head to the right, walking off before he could give you a response.

You pulled both blankets out of your backpack, laying one down and using the other as a pillow.

At first, it was odd to have an audience. Not that you thought Billy was staring at you, but just that another presence was here. It was that feeling you got when someone watched you do something you’d done a hundred times, but because someone was watching, it was like it was the first time you were doing it.

Twenty minutes passed, and you were finally settled, the stars gaining your full attention as they let your mind wander. You were connecting all the ones in Pegasus when you were interrupted.

“How are a bunch of tiny dots so interesting?” Billy stood beside you, arms crossed.

You would've been a little annoyed by the question, but something told you this was his way of reaching out. And you weren’t about to push away someone who needed a bit of company.

“Why don’t you lay down, and I’ll show you?” You patted the spot next to you.

He hesitated. Maybe he expected you to get irritated or start an argument, but your invitation relaxed him slightly. And he laid down, arms behind his head.

You smiled to yourself and looked back up, searching for the right constellation.

“Okay, do you see that little diamond shape with the tail?” You pointed.

His eyes narrowed, searching. “They all look the same.”

You rolled yours. “Okay. How about the big square over that way?” You moved your finger to the left, tracing the shape.

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good! That’s a part of Pegasus. Now, keep your eyes in the middle and move to the right. Pass the first star you see and keep going—”

“You mean the thing that looks like a kite?” he asked.

“Yes!” You grinned. “That’s Delphinus.”

“Like a dolphin?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly. The myth goes that this constellation represents the dolphin Poseidon sent the goddess Amphitrite because he wanted to marry her.”

“He sent a dolphin to get her?” he asked slowly, giving you an “are you serious” look.

You nodded. “Another myth is that the dolphin saved a Greek poet after the poet sang a song as his 'last words.' He threw himself overboard, and the dolphin saved him.”

He was quiet for a moment, staring intently at the constellation.

“Which one do you like better?” His eyes met yours, and you were struck by how blue they were. The same blue you imagined, the dolphin swam in.

“The latter,” you said.

He looked at you in surprise. “Really? Not the other one? I thought girls liked that romantic shit.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s not really romantic. All the dolphin did was give Amphitrite a ride. The other one is…” How did you want to put this? “...It has more meaning.”

He waited for you to continue.

“The poet, Arion, sang a song that drew this dolphin toward him. His art literally saved his life because Delphinus was so moved by it and had to go toward it.” You softened. “Isn’t that what everyone wants? For someone to acknowledge you for who you are?”

He analyzed you for a few minutes. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you wished he’d say something. You hadn’t meant to say all that, and something about saying it to Billy felt like your heart was on the line. He could act disinterested, he could argue with you, or he could laugh in your face.

He had never been blatantly rude to you before, prickly, of course, but this felt different. Like there was a line between you two, and depending on his response, he’d either build a wall or cross over onto your side.

He slowly nodded. “I think I like the second one, too,” he almost whispered. Then, faced the stars once more.

It wasn’t what you expected, but the corners of your mouth lifted.

You spent the rest of the night pointing out other constellations. He took a keen interest in Equuleus. The horse had been pierced by Neptune’s trident when he and Athena were competing to determine who’d be the superior.

It went on for some time like that. He’d ask questions, and you’d try your best to answer. Or he’d make up his own constellations.

“You see that long-ass rectangle?” he asked, tracing with his finger.

“Yeah.”

“That’s ‘Smoke Break,’” he said. And when you giggled in response, he grinned.

You had unfolded the other blanket, draping it over the both of you. Between the conversations, the silence lulled you into a sleepy haze. And before you knew it, you were asleep.

—

When Billy woke up and saw the sun rising, he’d never been more confused. Then, he saw you, curled into his side with his arm around your waist. He couldn’t find it in himself to move.

Last night was something he could never have imagined.

Neil had a bad day at work. And that usually resulted in a few good shoves and a backhand. Billy had stormed out as soon as Neil left the living room.

Billy had been driving, speeding down the road when the rage left him, and he slowed to turn into a field. He’d been there ten-fifteen minutes when you showed up.

He wanted you to leave. Didn’t want any questions about why he was out here. So, when you pretty much left him alone, he was relieved. And sorta disappointed.

Billy had known you since high school. You’d been paired up for one project together that you both got an A on—the best grade he’d ever gotten, and he knew it was because of you—and that was about it.

He saw you when he dropped Max off and picked her up, and sometimes you’d wave at him if you saw him around.

In a way, Billy saw you as unreachable. Like your light was somehow drowning out his darkness. And he didn’t mind it. He just wasn’t sure he deserved it—to feel light himself. But you drew him in, and he couldn’t help but approach you after those twenty long minutes.

He was glad he did.

He’d never felt more at peace. You’d calmed a part of him that he didn’t think could be.

It was strange, but that moment with you didn’t feel real. As if the night sky wrapped you in a bubble for only the two of you to know.

And he refused to burst its remains until you woke up.

—

Billy had offered to drive you home that morning.

You’d awoken and pulled away almost instantly, face heating up and profusely apologizing.

He had shrugged them off and helped you shove the blankets back in your bag before throwing it in his backseat and holding the passenger door open.

It’d been a few days since then, and tonight was gonna be another clear one. On your walk to the field, you wondered if Billy would be there, too. It was probably a one-and-done thing—you still didn’t know why he had been there in the first place. But there was that spark of hope. And then disappointment when he wasn’t there.

A half hour went by, and you could feel yourself nodding off. You were trying to work up the energy to pack up when the crawling of wheels made you turn.

Billy got out of his car and strolled over.

“Anything interesting up there?” he asked.

You patted the spot beside you, and he took it without a thought.

“You know there are three goddesses of the moon in Greek mythology?” you said.

“How can there be three?” he asked, lying on his side.

“There’s Selene, Artemis, and Hecate.” You listed on your fingers. “Selene was believed to be the moon personified, while Artemis is the goddess of the hunt and wilderness, and Hecate is the goddess of magic and witchcraft.”

“Is Artemis the one with the wolves?” he asked.

You nodded. “Sometimes, though, she's often shown with deer.”

“Makes sense. What about Hecate? Think if I stare at the moon long enough, she’ll put me under her spell?”

You giggled. “I don’t think that’s how it works, but I guess you never know.”

“What else can you tell me?” he asked, giving you a lazy smile.

“Well, Selene is supposed to bring the moon across the sky with her chariot,” you said.

He hummed. “You think it’s an actual chariot or a motorcycle or somethin’?”

You snorted. “You’d love it if she had a motorcycle, wouldn’t you?”

“She’d be hot as shit.” His grin widened when you laughed. “C’mon, if you were pullin’ the moon across all that, wouldn’t you want something sexy?”

You paused for a moment, pretending to think. “A station wagon.”

He deadpanned. “A what?”

“A station wagon,” you repeated, trying not to laugh.

“Now you’re fucking with me.” He flopped onto his back.

You let a giggle slip. “Think about it. You have this beautiful celestial body, then a shitty, rundown station wagon in front of it. It’d be hilarious.”

You could tell he was imagining it and trying not to smirk.

“See! It’s funny!” you said, nudging his shoulder. 

“Didn’t say that,” he said.

“But you thought it.”

He rolled his eyes. And it was enough of an admission for you.

The conversation slowly morphed into something else. Whereas the first night it was about the stars, tonight, it became more about the both of you.

“How do you know so much about this stuff,” he asked, adjusting the blanket over himself.

“I read a lot.” You played with a loose thread. “Helps that I didn’t have many friends growing up.”

He raised a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, looking at him through your lashes.

He blinked, then cleared his throat. “You’re always hanging around Max and her friends. And Harrington.”

You nodded, missing that tone in his voice. The one he tried to convince himself wasn’t there. 

“Yeah, it took a while, but I think I’ve found my people,” you said.

He stopped himself from asking if that included him.

“You, uh, you still working at that bookstore?” he asked, needing to change the subject.

“Why? Thinking about reading up on some myths?” you teased.

He let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe. But I don’t think reading them would be quite the same as listening to you.”

You smiled in response.

Again, you lost yourselves that night, falling asleep and waking up with your head on his chest.

Each time your conversations delved deeper. And each morning, the hasty pack-up and drive home extended to soft “good mornings,” slow risings, and comfortable mullings of nothing. You began to crave those moments.

And so did he.

When he’d drop Max off at the bookstore, he’d walk her in, hoping to see you. And on those days, Max usually bought one book with another stashed under her arm. One to read at home and the other, so she had something to do as she sat in one of the armchairs as you and Billy talked.

Max told El what was happening. Then El told Mike, who told Dustin, and Dustin told Steve, and he told the rest.

None of them knew how your friendship blossomed or why it happened now.

Then, one night, Max watched from the crack in her door as Billy strode out of the house after another of Neil’s screaming sessions.

She knew Billy’s date look, and this wasn’t that. It didn't seem like he was running away this time. There was something in his steps that suggested he was running toward. And it clicked.

—

You were waiting for Billy. At this point, every time you were out here you were waiting for him.

He’d somehow wormed his way into your routine, and now, without him here, it felt wrong. Like you were missing this crucial piece.

When he finally arrived, he didn’t say a word, no sarcastic quip or flirty banter. He simply laid down. What you didn’t anticipate was for him to pull you into his side.

His arm settled around your shoulders, his other hand on your forearm, his thumb rubbing up and down. He didn’t look at you, didn’t speak, his brow furrowed.

It was a look you’d seen before.

It worried you.

You wanted it gone.

“So, what do you wanna know this time?” you asked tentatively, chin resting on his chest.

His eyes slid to yours. They relaxed like he finally realized where he was, and they became hooded. He trailed down to your lips, then back, the barest of smiles gracing his features.

“Everything,” he whispered, pulling you closer.

And you knew he wasn't talking about the stars.

[holygrailimagines]

Locker Room

Summary: Richarlison releasing his stress onto reader

Warning: SMUT, also please I don't know if this is bad I usually don't write filthy stufffff like this lmaooo.

You always want to be by Richarlison’s side when he plays football, even if it's just practice. You rarely ever have the time to watch your husband play, but today was one of those lucky days. You were sporting his jersey, which was your favorite article of clothing. It was custom made for you and fit like a glove. You were also wearing some black shorts, not the jean type- it was too hot for that. 

Here you were sitting on the bench, watching as your husband practiced with his team. He looked so handsome on the field. His sweat glistened under the field lights and his eyes glared. He was dirty but in a sexy way, you couldn’t really explain it. However, you noticed he wasn’t doing his best. Every time he tried to score, it would never make it into the net. You watched as he progressively became angrier and upset to the point he completely walked off the field. His coach tried calling for him but then dismissed him angrily with an annoyed wave. 

“Rich? Where are you going?” You called after your husband, stumbling off the bench. You had to run after him to catch up to him. 

“Home.” He said, making his way into the locker room with you following right behind. 

You nodded, “Okay, I’ll wait for you in the car.” You say, heading out of the locker room before you feel his large hand grip your wrist. You quickly turned to look at Rich to see what this was all about. You were met with his face, eyes staring deep into your soul. They were darker than usual, clouded with lust. 

“No,” he says, “you’re staying with him.” He says before pulling you into the locker room. He closed and locked the door behind you, slamming you against it. He was quick to suck on your neck, hands groping your breasts roughly. 

“You think you could wear that and tease me like this?” He angrily asked in between sloppy kisses on your neck. You were shocked but quickly gave into the pleasure you were beginning to feel. You moaned as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, turning your head for a better angle of your neck. 

“Rich…we shouldn’t be doing this…not here.” You say, softly placing both hands on his chest. Secretly, you wanted to do it here. The fear and adrenaline of being caught was turning you on even more. 

“Shut up.” He growled before dragging you on to a desk in the locker room like a dog. 

“It’s all your fault,” He grunts, tearing off your jersey. “Distracting me like this.” He says, roughly ripping the clasp off your bra. He quickly stands over you and slides down his shorts with his boxers, his thick cock springing out and slapping against his abdomen. 

“Now suck my dick like the slut you are,” He says through gritted teeth, looking down at you. In your seated position on the desk, you were perfectly face to face with his pulsing cock as precum spilled from its slit. You start off with kitten licks, getting wetter as you hear his quiet whimpers. But it isn’t long before Rich gets bored. He uses one of his hands to make a makeshift ponytail and begins to fuck your face. Tears begin to form in your eyes as you struggle to keep up, gagging on his dick. He looks down at you, biting his lip as he tries to stay as quiet as possible. He loved the way you looked, mascara and tears running down your face, the flushed redness of your cheeks and nose, and how swollen your lips had gotten from his cock. He lets go of your hair and perfectly wraps his large hand around your throat. He slams you down on your back, tearing off your pants and underwear. The only thing you had on now were your nike white socks and white air forces. 

He swung both your legs onto his shoulders, lifted the bottom of his jersey and held it with his teeth. He wanted to see how his dick perfectly slid into your pussy. By now you were soaking, wanting to feel him. You didn’t care if it was his mouth, fingers, or dick, you just needed it now. He gripped his thick cock, teasing your entrance. You began moaning loudly when suddenly Rich stuffed your panties into your mouth.

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” He yelled through his gritted teeth, startling you a bit. He held your ankles for support as he slowly pushed himself inside you. He knew how crazy this was driving you. You bit down on the cloth in your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He slowly went in and out, in and out. He threw his head back as your pussy clenched tightly around him. He got faster and louder, the base of his cock slamming against your pussy. The sound of skin slapping and your muffled moans were enough to make him go even faster. He moved one hand to grip your throat, completely blocking your airways. The pleasure and lack of oxygen was too much as tears involuntarily streamed down your face. Rich chuckled at this, dick still hard as a rock, watching as your tits bounced and the bulge in your stomach emerging each time he slammed himself inside you. 

He suddenly let go of your throat and pulled out of you, removing your gag. You whimpered in disappointment, your pussy clenching on nothing but air. He turns you on to your stomach so your ass is entirely exposed to him. Rich finally takes off his jersey, showing off his abs and v line. He doesn’t even wait and painfully slams back inside you. It hurt so good. You were practically screaming, body lunging forward with each sharp thrust. Rich didn’t care anymore, he just wanted to empty his load inside you. He gripped the back of your neck, anchoring you down as he jackhammered you from the back. He grunted and groaned, calling you dirty names and occasionally slapping your ass. You were shaking at this point, too weak to feel anything. His eyes screwed shut as his head was thrown back. He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back. This new position allows him to quite literally vibrate inside you. He reached down, rubbing your clit. 

“Come on baby, come for me.” He encourages you and you do. You let go and coat his cock with your warm juices. He moans loudly, his pace getting sloppier. He buries himself inside you even deeper, releasing himself with a shuddered grunt. He slowly slides out of you as you let out a pained cry, feeling globs of his cum slide out of you and plopping onto the floor. You weren’t really sure how you would ever recover from this.

I am so devastated but, in my heart, Brasil won the world cup idc! Also plz tell me if this is good or bad because if it's bad, I would totally be down to fix some stuff. But anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it!!

[irkimatsu]

AHHHHHH I love Husk and your content is by far my FAVORITE 😍 the sweet, the smut, the little bit of both...I love it all.

So I have a cute idea for this one. Neko!reader x husk. The reader isn't fully cat, but has the ears and tail, a cat-like face and of course the mannerisms. Husk is crushing hard and thinks that she (or they, whichever pronouns :) ) is cute and nonchalantly points out that it's adorable when her ears twitch. And then she's like, "And you wonder why we're always messing with you, eyy Kitten?" which makes him all flustered and he can't even say anything.

I can just picture them doing the equivalent of holding hands only their tails wrapped around each other 😚😚

Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!

I envisioned Reader as an anthro like Husk; I'm hoping that's what you meant with your description! Reader gets drunk and rants to Husk about cat instincts, Husk offers some advice, light flirting and flustered Husk ensues. I hope this is close enough to what you wanted! 1.2k words, SFW, female reader!

---

You’ve had way too much to drink.

It’s not like you’re inexperienced at drinking; you knew the hard stuff you were knocking back would be enough to get you wasted. That was the point.  Maybe if you got drunk enough, you could shut off the stupid cat instincts that hadn’t left you alone since the moment you died. The exercises you’ve been doing at this hotel for the past few months may have taught you things like not stealing and believing in the power of friendship, but there hadn’t yet been any lessons on how to stop swiping at your own tail every time it entered the corner of your field of vision.

You’re not sure if the alcohol has turned off the instincts, but it sure has turned on your mouth. Without thinking about what you’re saying, you’ve been ranting to the bartender for the past thirty minutes, barely pausing to take a breath. Surely he doesn’t mind, right? Not only are bartenders supposed to listen when their customers want to bitch, but he’s in the exact same position as you are as far as species goes!

“...and the fuckin’ hairballs!” is the latest thought in your stream of word vomit. “I thought mucus was bad! Hairballs! They get stuck in my throat, and they itch like hell until I can cough ‘em up!”

“They sell stuff down here to take care of that,” the bartender says, pouring you another drink without you asking. “It tastes like shit, but it works. I don’t get ‘em anymore unless I forget to drink it.”

“And what about shedding?!” you continue on as if he didn’t say anything. “It’s impossible to keep my room clean! It’s like the more I clean up, the more fur there is!”

“Niffty’s been helpin’ me with that since I met her. She gets pissed about the fur I leave everywhere otherwise. She ain’t gentle with that brush, though.”

You take another gulp of your drink and slam it down onto the bar. “Fuck, think I just swallowed some fur…”

“You haven’t even been dead for a year yet, right?” Husk asks. “ That’s barely anything. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to being a cat. Some of the bullshit never goes away, but it becomes part of you.”

“Do you like being a cat?” you ask.

He laughs at your question. “Hell no! But what choice do I have? There’s no going back to bein’ human for any of us. May as well learn how to deal with it.” He takes a gulp of his own drink, not even bothering to pour it into a glass. “If ya want, I can take you to a good supply place sometime. They’ve got good products if you can put up with the fact that it looks like a fuckin’ pet store.”

“Hmm…” you neither accept nor deny his offer. You only take another drink, swallowing more damn fur in the process. That’s definitely gonna lead to some late-night hairballs. “It’s so annoying…” you whine as you plop your chin on the bar. “Why couldn’t I have been something cool? You know I saw a giant lizard the other day? Lucky bastard…”

“Bet they have a hell of a time findin’ clothes,” he says. “Or even gettin’ into places to begin with.”

“And even you got wings…” you continue on.

“Yeah. Wings. I get to clean up after fur and feathers, and if I don’t find the perfect position while sleeping the fuckin’ things go numb.” He takes your glass away, but you’re too lost in your own self-pity to protest. “We’ve all gotta get used to our new bodies when we get down here, and I doubt it’d be any different if we somehow got into heaven. Just gotta make the best of it.” He turns around to put away some bottles. “Besides, it’s not all bad. At least you’re cute.”

“...what was that?” you say, not expecting that word out of Husk’s mouth.

“I said you’re cute. Everyone thinks cats are cute, don’t they? Even I liked ‘em when I was alive. I don’t want to be one, but you can’t resist their mannerisms, can ya? The big eyes, the soft fur…”

He turns around just in time to see your right ear flicking in annoyance from the condescension. “The twitchy ears…”

You smirk, knowing the weight of what you’re about to say next but too drunk to stop yourself. “So now you get why Angel and I are always commenting on your mannerisms, eh, kitty?”

“Whoa! Hey!” His fur bristles, and you know you shouldn’t find his own agitation cute, but you can’t help yourself. It helps you understand the way he was just talking to you, at least. “That’s different! You’re a young lady! You died at, what, 25? You’re supposed to be cute! I’m an old man who drank myself to death. Nothin’ cute about that.”

“You’ve still got the big eyes and the soft fur…” you continue on.

He groans in response. “If you were a stranger saying that shit to me, I’d kill you.”

“So what makes me so special?” Your tail waves playfully behind you, and he’s obviously following it with his eyes and blushing.

“I…” he starts, but never manages to come up with the rest of the sentence. “Jesus Christ,” is all he has to offer before grabbing a couple of glasses from the shelf. He fills them both with water, then carries them around to the other side of the bar.

“Here,” he says as he sets one of the glasses in front of you. “Drink this. You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning. May as well not be dehydrated on top of everything else.”

You stare at the cup as he takes a seat on the stool next to you. “How do you resist the urge to knock cups over?” you ask.

“Lots of self-control,” he says with a smirk before guzzling his glass in one go.

You place your paw on the side of the glass, originally intending to pick it up, but an overwhelming spark takes over your brain, and you start easing the cup toward the edge of the bar. Husk grabs it and places it back where it started before it can crash to the floor.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assures you. He’s finished his water, but for a reason you can’t determine, he’s still sitting next to you.

“How long have you been down here?” you ask. “A couple years?”

“Mmm… fifty?” he guesses. “Almost as long as I was alive, at this point.”

“Fifty years?!” you exclaim. “And you still have to deal with cat instincts?!”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it never goes away. Just gotta get used to it, take the good with the bad.”

“The good…” you repeat. “Like being cute?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says. “...but in your case… yeah. Like being cute.”

You finally manage to pick up your water without giving into the desire for destruction. As you take a sip, something feathery starts to tickle against your tail. You look over at Husk from the corner of your eye. He’s trying to be nonchalant, not even looking at you, but there’s only one thing that could be brushing against you right now.

Without looking, you shift your tail, allowing it to curl around Husk’s. Husk curls his around yours in turn, your tail tips forming a spiral that just barely reaches the floor.

It’s the closest he’ll get to flirting for now. You’ll take what you can get.

[shoulderscars]

Why I love Midnight Sun

ok I know this might be a hot take, but I actually love Midnight Sun. It's my favorite Twilight Saga book. And here's why [Spoiler Alert Affective from here!]

The Making of the Cullen Family (and their respective backstory's): I love that we get to know all the little details, like how Alive waited for the perfect moment to join the group and how she literally hugs Edward the moment they meet for the first time, and how they have a mutual understanding before saying a word in conversation.

Carlisle. (Simple, refined, respectable, perfect): It's not like we didnt know the before Midnight Sun, but I think Edwards insight on his brain is just...amazing. We can really see all of Carlisle's selflessness and how he is a simple man who wants the best for his children. Also, we get an insight on Carlisle and Esme's love with is so refined but perfect.

Emmett. (The best Cullen after Carlisle?): The whole book is actually giving Emmett's character depth. In the beginning of the book, Emmett's internal thoughts seem to be the same as he is perceived in the rest of the books from Bella's perspective, but as the book progresses, we see Emmett being amazing, and how much of a loving and simply perfect person (loose definition) he is.

Edward & Rose (good God they could be toddlers but really cute nevertheless): The scene where Edward remembers the day that he and Rose became brother and sister is actually a gorgeous scene. Lives in my head rent free. Also I love how the come to a consensus that Rose won't play nice but she will tolerate, and then they both keep snapping silently at each other. BUT when Alice mentions Charlie and the red head on the phone (while getting Bella to the hospital), Rose is honest to God ready to kill for him. BRO.

Jasper's Powers (wait he's actually OP?): Jasper's general character depth isn't explored much in the book, but his powers that he displays in the field is actually on a whole different level. No explanation needed

Alice's Powers (it's a work of ART.): In the scene where they are transporting Bella from the dance studio to the hospital, we take a dive into how Alice uses her abilities and how she perfects the future. The whole scene is flawless and actually clears up a lot about her "physic" ability based on decision making. The whole section just flowed so well, and I love it so much.

BONUS POINTS: Emmett getting repeatedly annoyed at the silent conversations that Alice and Edward have. IM SORRY I LOVE IT SO MUCH, and I love how EVEN AFTER 70ISH YEARS OF LIVING WITH BOTH OF THEM, IT STILL ANNOYS HIM HAHA

Didn't think I was gonna write an essay tonight but here I am 😭😭

I do genuinely love the Twilight Universe (the book version y'all with only visual inspiration for imagination hehe) and this book....ah I love how it helps build the vampire side of the lore. It makes me so happy lol

[shiftingparadise]

Hi! Could you do a gojo x reader fic that is angtsy/hurt followed with a happy ending? I don’t have a particular plot in mind, anything you feel like writing I would love! Thank you :)

I’m sorry for the long wait. I still hope you like it! Enjoy reading 🤍✨

Word count: 2956

Warnings: none :)

“Want to hang out Satoruuuu?”, you playfully looked up at him. “No”, he remained as cold as ever. “Fine”, you tried to hide your disappointment with a smile, “Maybe tomorrow”. “I need to go”, Satoru took a sip from his soda before heading inside.

You watched how he happily greeted Shoko, offering a sip from his soda.

“Try it”, he laughed as he shoved the can in her face, “It’s a new flavor”. “I-I don’t want to”, Shoko frowned as she pulled back.

The sight of them laughing caused a piercing sensation in your chest. Satoru was friendly with everyone, in his own way of course, but never with you. You tried so hard for him to like you, but the more you tried, the more distant he got.

“What about you?”, you sighed with a smile. “Sushi?”, Suguru sweetly smiled. “Sushi”, your eyes lit up at the thought.

You often debated whether you should ask Suguru why his friend didn’t seemed to like you, but you were too afraid of the truth. Besides, it didn’t matter. There was nothing you could do. You couldn’t force someone to like you.

—-

“Stop!”, you giggled as Suguru softly hit the back of your head before looking at the sky again. “Are you talking to me?”, Suguru tilted his head, an innocent look on his face. “I swear to God-“, another soft smack against the back of your head. “I’m going to kill you”, you laughed as you tried punch your friend. “Me?”, Geto’s hand was resting on your forehead, preventing you from hitting a blow.

You didn’t know Gojo had been watching the two of you train for the past half hour. In fact, you didn’t even know Gojo was sitting across the field. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to pull his friend away from you and scold you. Not because you were annoying or because you were weak, but because you were flirting with his friend in front of his eyes. Sure, he never made it clear how he felt about you. He was aware how he treated you and what impression that left behind but still…

“Enough”, Suguru softly brushed through your hair, “I’m going to shower”. “Tsk, fine!”, you yelled as he walked away, “You’re just leaving because you know I’m stronger!”.

“Are you ever going to grow up?”, Satoru’s cold voice send shivers down your spine.

You didn’t see him coming, but that didn’t surprise you. He was, after all, the strongest sorcerer alive.

“You’re always laughing, fooling around, but have you actually finished a mission? Without the help of someone else?”, Satoru took your silence as an invite to continue. “You’re always relying on Shoko or Suguru to clean up your mess, to swoop in to save your ass… It’s pathetic”.

He didn’t know why he was being so mean. It’s not like it felt good to see your eyes well up in tears. No. It hurt him. So why… Why was he saying all this?

“I’m trying”, your nails pressed into the soft skin of your hands, leaving little moon-shaped marks behind. “Trying?”, Gojo chuckled, “You’re not trying. You’ve been fooling around with Suguru instead of using your time wisely”. “But we’ll train again and-“.

“You don’t think Suguru would fall for someone like you, right?”.

Silence.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him”, Gojo kept looking at you, despite you avoiding his gaze at all costs. “Don’t fool yourself. Suguru’s only your friend because he pities you”.

No. No. No. No. This wasn’t what he wanted to say at all. He wanted to tell you how jealous he was of his friend, how he would give up everything just for you to look at him with the same admiration in your eyes as with Suguru.

“Are you crying? Seriously? Is the truth that hard for you to swallow? I thought it was obvious but-“. “I’m sorry”, you finally looked up at him, tears streaming down your cheek. “I’m sorry I’m not enough”, you start to sob, black rivers on your cheek from your mascara.

Satoru’s eyes widened as his heart shattered into a million pieces. He did this. He crushed your spirit and the little confidence you had.

“Y/N-“, his voice soft as he watched you pick up your jacket. “I know. I’m a failure”, you continued to sob before walking inside.

Satoru watched as you walked inside, your arm in front of your eyes.

—-

“Why?”, Suguru gritted his teeth, his pace fast as he saw his friend. “Why would you hurt her like that? You know what I feel for her, how much I care-“, Geto tried to contain his anger. “You know how much I care about her”.

Satoru dropped the ball he was holding, completely ignoring Nanami’s presence (who was just happy to leave after losing 3 games of basketball in a row).

“I told her the truth”, Satoru immediately mirrored his friend’s energy.

He couldn’t stay calm, not when it’s about you.

“The truth?”, Geto’s eyes widened, “You told her I pitied her, that she’s pathetic-“. “She is”, Satoru’s hands balled into fists, “We always have to swoop in to save her ass. She can’t even finish off a Grade 4.“. “That still doesn’t give you the right to-“.

“You think I’m weak too?”, your voice shaking. “N-no, of course not!”, Suguru’s heart sank to his stomach. He didn’t realize you’d follow him. “Suguru”, you unwillingly started to sob again.

Satoru could only watch how his friend hurried toward you and wrapped his arms around you. It broke him. The realization that he could never be the one to bring you comfort; that he’d never be the one who made you smile.

“Y-you’re not weak”, Suguru’s digits softly wiped the tears from your cheek, “You’re technique’s just really hard, just like Shoko’s, and you’re even better at using reversed cursed technique than her-“.

Ah. There it was again. That look of love in your eyes, combined with that sweet smile of yours. It felt as if his heart was being ripped out from his chest.

“Come on, let’s get some sushi, okay?”, Suguru softly hummed as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “And you”, Suguru’s gaze hardened as he looked back at Satoru before leaving, “You’re going to apologize to her”. “Tsk”, Gojo clicked his tongue as he pretended to be unbothered by all this.

“Does he know?”, Nanami sighed. “Shit”, Gojo almost jumped into the air. He completely forgot Nanami was there too.

“Does Geto know?”, the blonde repeated his question. “What?”. “That you’re in love with her”.

How? How could he possibly now?

“No”, Satoru gritted his teeth, not even bothering to deny it. “Suguru’s been in love with her from the moment he saw her. I can’t-“, Satoru stopped mid-sentence.

It felt good that someone knew. That he could confide in someone.

“And you?”, Nanami let his head fall back. “From the first time she spoke my name”, he replied softly, his heart flooded with regret. “Why didn’t you tell Geto?”.

Because he could never give you what Suguru could; because he could never be as kind and soft-hearted; because he didn’t want you to become a target; because he didn’t want you to get hurt; because –

“Because”, Satoru just lifted his shoulders. He was done with this conversation. There was no point in talking about it anyway. By now, he had hurt you more than enough. There was no space for him in your life.

—

“Be careful, okay?”, you look at Suguru. “You too, Satoru”, you softly added. “Yeah, yeah”, Satoru waived your words away. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back by the end of the week. Besides, we’re the strongest”, Geto sweetly smiled.

God, you loved that man more than anything. However, that was ages ago. Or it felt like ages anyway. You never expected Suguru to become like this. So cold-hearted, so distant. He’d talked to you about his visions; about what he wanted but … You never really thought he’d leave you behind.

“That’s impossible”, you softly whispered, “Suguru would never kill-“. “Tsk”, Satoru gritted his teeth, trying to hold himself back.

Yes. Satoru hated it when he saw you kiss his best friend; when you cupped his cheeks and pulled him close. He didn’t want to be reminded of how sweet you must taste or how soft your skin felt… But he still didn’t want to miss his best friend, to watch his best friend turn into a monster.

“I’m sorry”, your Headmaster crossed his arms, his eyes peering over his glasses. “N-no”, your eyes widened, “It wasn’t him! He would never do something like that!”.

Gojo stared at the ground, his hands clenching the table behind him.

“Suguru would never hurt someone”, tears streaming down your cheek, “S-sure he’s lost his way but that doesn’t mean he’s a murderer”. You looked behind you, trying to understand why Satoru didn’t defend his best friend. “Why are you so quiet? Say something? Tell him that he’s wrong!”, you cried out in disbelief. “Why?”, Gojo clenched his jaw, “It was him. The only traces of cursed energy were his”. “B-but-“, you tried to convince yourself that the person you loved wasn’t a monster. “Don’t you get it?”, Satoru’s words felt like poison, “The Suguru you, we, knew is gone. Stop acting like an idiot”.

“I hate you”, your voice cold before you walked away. There was no point in staying. “Get some rest. You don’t have to attend your classes tomorrow”. You didn’t respond to your Headmaster’s advice. You wanted to be alone.

Satoru widened his eyes. He never saw you like this. So cold, so distant… He wanted to run after you; to tell you he missed Suguru too but he realized all too well that he was the last person you wanted to be around now.

—-

Satoru stopped his tracks as he stood before your room. His heart was racing. It’s been months now since Suguru left and you weren’t doing too well. Everyone could see it; how skinny you’d gotten, how the skin around your eyes darkened each day… It reminded him of how his best friend looked before he ran away, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice not even with someone who hated him. Besides, his feelings for you never changed. Not even when you became an entirely different person. In his eyes, you were still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen and it hurt him more than he could take to see you like this. He wanted to see you smile again, to hear that cute giggle form in between kisses, even though it was because of another man.

“Y/N?”, he softly knocked on your door.

No response.

“Y/N, open the door”, he tried to sound as kind as possible.

His heart fastened as he heard some movement.

“What?”, you slightly opened the door. “Here”, Satoru held out a bag. “What’s that?”, you frowned as you opened the door a little more. “Something to eat”.

His stomach turned when he noticed how much weight you lost. Your once chubby, and cute cheeks were completely gone. Instead, they were replaced by cheekbones that cast a shadow over your face.

“I’m not hungry”, you tried to close your door but Satoru’s foot got in the way. “It’s from your favorite place”, his voice desperate. Your eyes lifted from the ground to look at the bag. “How did you know?”, your voice still cold.

How did he know? What was he going to say? That he practically stalked you and overheard almost every word when you were in the same room as him?

“Just eat something”, he gently pushed your door open. “N-no”, you hastily tried to close the door but there was no strength left in your body.

Satoru’s eyes widened as his heart shattered. Your room was a mess, something he expected but … He didn’t realize you kept all of Suguru’s clothes he left behind. There was his shirt wrapped around your pillow, two of his sweaters spread on your bed, his jacket thrown on your chair…

“Happy now?”, you frowned.

God, Satoru never felt so jealous. Matter of fact, he felt so jealous that he was angry. How could you still care so much about Suguru? Sure, he missed his best friend too but he realised what he had become and which side he chose to join.

“This isn’t healthy”, he entered your room without permission, “I’m taking his stuff”. “N-no!”, you immediately ran toward the white-haired man. “You’re not touching anything!”, you grabbed his arm as you tried to pull him back. “Stay back”, Gojo coldly replied as he placed the bag of sushi on your cluttered desk. “Stop!”, you cried out as you saw him grab Suguru’s clothes. “I hate you!”, you screamed as you desperately tried to pull him back. “Don’t you get it?”, Gojo raised his voice, “He isn’t coming back. He left you. Just as he left me. There’s no point in clinging onto the past”. “He is! I know he is!”, you punched him as he grabbed your trashcan.

You paused for a swift second as you realized you could touch him, meaning he wasn’t using his cursed energy.

“Stop!”, you balled your fists again. “Tsk”, Satoru grabbed both of your wrists with one hand, “Look at me”. “N-no”, your head hanging low, tears streaming down your cheek. “Look at me”, his voice soft as he loosened his grip. “N-no”, your sobs got heavier.

“I know it hurts”, he softly cupped your face as his thumbs wiped away your tears, “I miss him too but he isn’t coming back. You need to move on. You can’t just keep on starving yourself and missing your classes”. “N-no, he’s coming back. He’d never leave me behind without saying goodbye, without-“, you tried to control your breathing as reality hit you in the face. The person you loved wasn’t coming back.

Satoru didn’t know what to do or what to say. There weren’t any words left to make you feel better.

“It’s okay, let it all out”, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

He was mad at Suguru for leaving you like this, but once he pulled you close and his nose took in the scent of your hair… He felt almost thankful. He’d wanted to hold you like this for so long. Sure, he didn’t want you to feel like this but if it meant he could hold you…

“Why? Why did he leave?”, your broken voice broke through his thoughts. He immediately felt sick again. “I don’t know”, he softly pulled away, leaving a cold feeling behind. “You need to eat”, he continued after your lack of response. “No”. “Yes”, he chuckled as he walked to your desk. “Here, eat”. “Fine, I’ll eat some”, you walked to your door. “No”, Satoru folded his arms, “I want to see you eat”. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”, you sighed at the realization. “Nope”, he smirked as he looked over his glasses. “Fine”, you grunted in agitation. “A plate of sushi for Miss Y/N”, Satoru playfully got the sushi out of the bag. “Satoru-“, you sighed. “Oh, I almost forgot”, he ignored you, “A plate of sushi and some strawberry mochi as dessert”.

“Strawberry mochi?”, your eyes widened. Maybe you were a little hungry after all. “No”, Gojo held the mochi up high, “You’re going to eat your sushi first.

—-

“You’re looking better”, Satoru smiled as he watched you close your door. “Y-yeah, I tried to look decent”, you shyly answered. “Come on, let’s go”, he placed his hands in his pockets in an attempt to try and stop himself from pulling you close.

You two had gotten closer over the past few weeks, and Satoru wasn’t complaining.

“Where are we going?”. “Oh, I didn’t tell you?”. “No”, you softly answered. “Well, it’s a surprise then”. “I don’t like surprises”. “Fine”, Satoru rolled his eyes, “We’re going to the city. You need new clothes”. “I don’t-“, you paused as you realized you didn’t have that many clothes that still fit you. “Thought so”, Gojo smirked contently, “We can grab some sushi before heading home”.

—-

“This was actually fun”, you looked down as the metro kept his steady pace. “Fun?”, Satoru sighed, “My hands are sore from carrying your bags”. “You said I needed some clothes”. “Yeah yeah, fine”, he sighed, “I’m just glad you’re happy”.

He didn’t want this day to end. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. Every minute the metro got closer to Jujutsu High, his heart got heavier.

“Here”, he sighed as he placed your bags on your bed. “Be sure to get some rest for our classes tomorrow”. “Hm”, you softly hummed. “What?”, he looked down as he tried to study your face. “Nothing”, your cheeks red. “Why are you blushing?”, Satoru tilted his head, his nose almost touching yours as he looked at you.

And then it happened. Something he never expected.

“H-huh”, Gojo’s eyes widened as you placed a swift kiss on his lips.

He didn’t move. He was frozen in place as he could see your big eyes staring at him, your cheeks redder than ever.

“I’m sorry”, you hastily apologized when he kept still.

Satoru didn���t answer, instead, his hands cupped your cheek as he pulled you close again. His entire aura changed, all his playfulness disappeared like snow in the sun.

“Right”, he chuckled as he softly broke free from the kiss. “W-what?”. “Your lips”, he placed another swift kiss on them before he continued, “They taste like strawberries, just as I imagined”.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Thinking about Spencer being a girl dad.

(I can't stop thinking about Dad!Spencer in general because it's so clear from the show that he wanted kids so badly. I need to write a fic of him having a kid omg.)

(Also - mentions of systematic sexism, including women being the target of violent crimes. But this is mostly fluff.)

When you first find out that you're having a daughter - you are terrified. Working at the BAU has caused you to be imprinted with all the horrors that could happen to a woman or a young girl. Even though your daughter has been born yet, you can't stop thinking about all the bad things that could happen to her - all the monster out there that are just waiting to take her away from you.

One night Spencer comes home and finds you clutching your stomach, sobbing, and he asks you what's wrong.

You ask him why he's not worried. Him, of all people, who knows so much about everything. He must have so many statistics bouncing around in his mind - he must know how it's so much more likely for your daughter to be targeted, to be raped or killed.

Spencer holds you until you stop crying. And then he oh so calmly says:

"I'm no worried." "Why?" "Because I won't let anyone hurt her."

And it's those words that live in your mind forever - especially on the day your daughter is placed into your arms for the first time. He could have been worried too, but he's so self assured that this is a fact. He won't let anyone hurt her.

Spencer fawns over your daughter from day one.

He hardly ever puts her down, and sometimes you have to fight for time holding her. When he goes back to work after his paternity leave, he calls you for updates almost every hour - he has a feeding schedule on the fridge (one for you and one for her, because Mommy shouldn't forget to eat either) and he's constantly reminding you to swaddle her well and keep the baby monitor on and read to her.

He has Mozart playing in the nursery on a low volume almost constantly.

When your daughter gets a bit older, Spencer's hair is a bit longer and she has a field day putting pigtails on him and nearly ripping it out of his head playing dress-up. You know that he grins and clenches his teeth through it out of love.

One time he showed up at the BAU with play makeup all over his face and sat through the presentation of a case without realizing it was there, wondering why everyone was giving him strange looks until Garcia broke and handed him the combat mirror from her purse. It's something everyone still jokes about.

Spencer never says no to his daughter. Literally anything she wants, she gets.

After a while, he gets tired of trying to convince a toddler of the nutritional benefits of eating broccoli by talking about omega 3s and micronutrients and he does just give in and let her have ice cream for dinner. He likes ice cream too.

Sometimes you are annoyed by having to be 'the tough parent' - but he has been able to convince her to take a bath by making a rubber duck 'appear' behind her ear with slight of hand, so you both have your strengths as parents.

At one point, she made him a friendship bracelet with a beading craft kid that Auntie JJ got her for her birthday - it's mismatched, gaudy, and colorful, but he never leaves the house without it. Sometimes he's convinced that it's the only thing that keeps him safe during a hard case. He often finds himself toying with the plastic beads under his sleeve whenever he's trying to come up with a new lead.

[marta-diablo]

Any small child catching sight of Noel Fielding of The Mighty Boosh in his clown gear would vow never to go to the circus again. Fielding’s torso is encased in a green felt globe, his hands protruding helplessly from the bottom. From beneath lurid make-up, he flashes a deeply unsettling grin, as if auditioning for the role of a psychopathic killer in Test Card: The Movie. “I’m just popping out for some coffee,” he deadpans. “Does anybody want anything?”

His Booshmate Julian Barratt, who currently looks like the victim of back-alley gender reassignment surgery, brushes his new blond tresses away from his face and sighs. “What a job, eh?”

When the duo decided to pose as the pair from the 1970s TV test card, it didn’t take long to decide who should play which part. If you want make-up and a manic grin, Fielding’s your man. He arrives at the studio resembling a time-travelling glam-rock star: pointy boots, snug red trousers, tight T-shirt, pendant shaped like a Flying Vee guitar, alarming bone structure. In one episode of their TV series, Barratt tells Fielding, “Look at you - feather cut, the pointy features. Put you in the 1950s, you’d be imprisoned for being a witch. They’d lock you in a trunk!” He’s probably right.

Barratt carries himself like someone trying to elude capture. It’s this wary unease that defined his performance as misanthropic style journalist Dan Ashcroft in Nathan Barley, Chris Morris’s Channel 4 comedy series. Morris wanted Dan to be someone who “wasn’t really comfortable in his skin”. I ask Barratt if Dan is a version of his own personality and he looks mildly wounded. “Not really, no. There were elements of me - it’s sometimes painful to be around people who are annoying - but Dan was a bit of a tit. I didn’t really like him.”

The Mighty Boosh have already completed two successful BBC series and are currently working on a third. Fielding, 33, thinks comedy is about allowing people to feel young again. “When you’re really laughing, you feel like a little kid and nothing matters. Everyone’s trying to feel as free as they were when they were kids.” Barratt, 38, seems to regard comedy’s inner workings as an imponderable mystery. “You still don’t know why you’re funny, do you?” Fielding says. “Not really,” Barratt sighs.

After almost a decade of working together, the pair are obviously close. When the camera’s not pointed in their direction, they huddle on the studio sofa in earnest conference punctuated by giggles. There is much to discuss: “We’ve got so many things we want to do and we need a basket to put them all in,” explains Barrett. “A structural basket.”

Fielding has a different metaphor. “We know when we’ve got enough ideas. If we haven’t and we try to write, it’s a bit weird. It’s like loading a gun and not having enough bullets.”

They first met in 1996, when Fielding went to see Barratt doing stand-up in High Wycombe. There had been less auspicious nights. Barratt recalls, “I ran off stage at my first gig. Halfway through it, I forgot my lines and didn’t know what to do, so I just ran out of the building down towards a lake. I was going to throw myself in, but the compere came out and said, 'No, it’s going well, come back and finish the gig!’ ”

The two share enthusiasms (Captain Beefheart, Monty Python, Mr Benn) and Barratt launched their collaboration by asking Fielding if he wanted to write the new Goodies. “We wanted to be a gang rather than a sketch troupe,” he says. From the start, their combination of absurdist wit, far-fetched narratives and bizarre musical interludes was the stuff of cult success. Audiences either entered their world and found them the funniest thing around, or they didn’t get them at all. “We used to have to convince people we were funny,” Barratt says, “and it didn’t always work.”

It did, however, work well enough to earn them nominations or awards at three consecutive Edinburgh festivals. A radio series followed and they finally made it to the nation’s TV screens in 2004. Earlier this year, they returned to touring. They get offers all the time, but having got this far on their own idiosyncratic terms, they have no desire to work according to anyone else’s.

“If Tim Burton called up and said, 'I’m making a film about two white Americans who go and become Red Indians’, I’m sure we’d jump at the chance,” Fielding says. “But if it’s, 'Do you want to be in this sitcom that’s a bit like Coupling?’ I’d rather shoot myself.”

When did you first find something really funny?

Noel Fielding: My nan used to look after me in the summer holidays and she had a cat with one eye. It used to walk into walls and tables. I used to think it was hilarious. It was a slapstick cat.

Who are your comedy inspirations?

Julian Barrett: I loved the Goodies’ sense of adventure.

NF: The Young Ones was the first thing I really liked. I was so young I didn’t really know what students were. I just thought they were some men who lived in a house.

What’s not funny?

JB: Cancer?

NF: It can be, though, can’t it?

JB: Yeah, sometimes a tumour will make me laugh.

When did you last laugh?

NF: I laugh all the time. I’m slightly simple. I went to a festival in Cambridge last weekend and there were men standing on a wheelchair and getting their friends to push them down a muddy hill and really hurting themselves. One of them had a fur coat, a dress underneath, massive boots and a witch’s hat. It was so stupid that everyone was laughing at them. It was quite freeing, actually.

What’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you?

NF: Once I got stuck in a suit of armour. I had to be a knight in Al Murray’s show for two minutes. I had a gig afterwards and there was no one there backstage, so I couldn’t get out of it. I had to run next door and do the gig in a suit of armour. Al thought it was the best thing ever. “You should do that every night! It’s brilliant!” he said.

What’s the secret of comedy?

JB: The secret of comedy is don’t grow up. That’s why some comedians are a nightmare, because they never grow up.

Tell us a joke

NF: You stop hearing proper jokes when you’re a comedian. I’m always slightly disappointed by real jokes. There’s a lot of pressure to understand them and laugh at them. Occasionally we come up with a proper joke by accident and we almost apologise.

· The Mighty Boosh debut live DVD is released on November 13.

x

[kitkatopinions]

Just saw the extended animatic that was originally meant to end V9 and is now gonna get repurposed into the (possible) V10.

Let me just say, I still feel the same about the things I saw in the first animatic. I can now firmly say that Qrow has been replaced with a doppleganger same as Blake (I wonder if it's like a partial possession thing in this case where sometimes it's Qrow and sometimes it's the faker.) I hate the dumb Winter scenes about how disappointed she is that poor people aren't nice enough to her billionaire blue blooded mother in her silly little sunhat. I have no idea what the hell Raven is doing there. The 'Remember Her Message' thing is stupid because of how poorly done Ruby's message to the world actually was and what little impact Team RWBYJNOR has actually had on the world at large. And I still want to see Whitley without Willow for three point five seconds. And I'm still wondering why the presence of an army in Atlas was a sign of pure evil and was immediately seen as a horrifying threat but seeing an army in Vacuo is meant to be a sign of peace and hope.

But also, now I have more to say.

Like first of all, I'm even more confused on how Remnant managed to pull off any sort of army now that we know what remained in Vale after the Fall of Beacon got decimated. Where are they getting their army? From Mistral, where we know Leo had all the Hunters killed? Are we meant to assume that the people that showed up from Mistral are the cops Blake called on the White Fang? Or, maybe from Argus, even though we're meant to hate Cordovin and the Atlas military that was there? Second of all, this makes me even more annoyed at Winter for being like 'if my poor martyr sister could see how badly we're doing, she'd be disappointed,' Winter get realistic goals challenge 2024. Third of all, Team SSSN and CFVY made appearances and if I ever have to see Coco "based on a nazi" Adel ever again, it'll be too soon, but I still insist that it should've been just Sun, Neptune, and Velvet because none of their other teammates got enough focus in the actual show to be real characters. They could've been casually name dropped off-handedly and it would've been fine. Speaking of teams making reappearances, Neon is there, which means she didn't die in the Fall of Atlas and likely her teammates didn't either, but they had better have a full explanation in V10 for how soldiers on the field got back to the city and threw the portals, and it's weird that we saw Neon but not Flynt. Also can I just point out that "the people who were colonized by Atlas are being aggressive to innocent Atlas orphans and need to be told off" is a writing choice the writers didn't have to do, and considering all the whole history with RWBY and bigotry, I don't know why they did that. Neon and Nora had a moment though, and I was like... Ship material? Also, Tyrian and Mercury are working with the Crown, but... To be honest, if they don't scrap that in V10 (if V10 ever comes,) I'm gonna question their decision making even more, because they just did a new location with a new villain and it proved that this late in the game it's hard to set up or properly execute new threats, and if V10 ever comes out, it's a high probability that we're not ever getting a V11. So if you ask me, if they don't cut out the Crown, they're either gonna badly execute these new bads because they expect their fans to do homework to understand the main show, or they're gonna spend way too much focus on establishing them and the Mains will get sidelined again. Merc looks like a mess, though, and this would make me think a redemption arc is a-coming except that they're pressed for time like I said, so I'm not counting on it. The fact that I have to see Peter Port of all characters is also making me want to say a lot of bad words. Like I cannot emphasize enough how much I hated seeing him and his stupid face and how much I wish he'd never existed. What is this choice to not have the serious potential mentor character who had been part of Oz's inner circle come in and instead having the comic relief teacher who blathered about testosterone and flirted with an underage student be the one to break what should be devastating news that should by all rights get a lot of focus? And where the heck is Tai in all of this? Rip to Oobleck, but out of everyone from the Vale seasons, I would not have picked either of these men to bring back, I'd have brought in Tai and Glynda. It's just a bad choice. And still no sign of Maria and Pietro, so like... What the heck?

All in all, I thought before that I couldn't have less hope for the future of RWBY, but whoa buddy this extended animatic proved me wrong.

[bluesylveon2]

OMG HI I CAME AS FAST AS I COULD WHEN I SAW REQUESTS FOR 400 FOLLOWERS WERE OPEN I LOVED YOUR ORTHO FAMILY DAY ONESHOT!! i was gonna ask for idia + "i wont say im in love" or "once upon a dream" bc both are SUCHHH good disney songs, i hope you can write whichever one seems more fun to you, lots of love!! - ♡ anon

Omg hi!!! Thank you for reading the ortho fic! It was my first time writing for twst and I glad at how it turned out. I chose "I Won't Say I'm in Love" because it just screams Idia 😂. Hope you enjoy anon!!!

Notes: Idia being in denial, mentioned Vargas camp pt 2, fluff, Azul uses one line from the Ghost Marriage, and the housewardens team up on him (it's basically their team-building exercise lol)

Word Count: 975 (I said that these are supposed to be drabbles but now they're oneshots lmao)

Warnings: possible ooc characters and not beta read.

Idia thought the Vargas camp was torture, but it was actually Crowley's team-building camp (with no technology, might he add) filled with some of the scariest people he knew (read: the housewardens) and the Ramshackle Prefect. 

Yes, the Prefect.

Crowley said she needed to attend since she was in the same position as them for Ramshackle. However, Idia knew she didn't have to be there since Grim was her only dorm member. The real reason she was here was to keep the housewardens in check. 

"You're staring off again," Vil's smooth voice caused Idia to jump and take his attention away from the nearby Yuu talking to Crowley. 

“I’MNOTSTARINGATYUU!”

Vil sighed, "I never said anything about the Prefect."

Idia wanted the ground to swallow him whole, "H-how long have you been standing there?" 

Vil crossed his arms, a frown etched on his flawless face, "Long enough for everyone to get stuff for camp except for you," he emphasized his words by pointing out to the vacant field except for the Prefect standing far from them. Vil, annoyed, gracefully walked over to Idia and pressed a manicured finger to his chest, "Look, I'm not sure what Yuu sees in you, but if you hurt her, I will not hesitate to send Rook at you," he said in a brotherly manner. Idia swore that Vil's glare could kill him if it could. 

Idia's hair turned slightly pink, "Whoa, whoa, why would I hurt Yuu?" He was grabbing one part of his jacket when he heard Vil sigh.

"I don't want to see her shed any tears over you, got it?"

Idia opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by Malleus teleporting to him. 

"You are going to hurt the Child of Man?" Malleus frowned. 

Vil rolled his eyes, "Malleus, do you think that Idia is in love with Yuu?"

"Hey!"

Malleus hummed in thought and ignored Idia, "Lilia taught me what love was the other day, and I think Shroud fits the description. He mentioned how humans can turn red, and I assume that Idia's pink hair is a similar reaction."

Idia squealed and feebly attempted to blow out the pink away, but it grew out of embarrassment. 

"Will you shut up! Some of us have better things to do and nap," Leona called out from a nearby tree. He had an annoyed and tired look on his face. 

"Hey, Kingscholar, do you think Shroud has feelings toward the Child of Man?" Malleus innocently asked the lion beastman. 

"I'm literally right next to you!" Idia exclaimed, but it fell on deaf ears again.  

Leona opened one eye and looked at the group, "Do I think? Hah, I know he does. Radish Sprout tries to keep his lovestruck face hidden from Yuu, but we can all see it. He can't conceal his obvious swooning. Honestly, it makes me want to puke."

Idia's hair was a mix of pink and red "I am not trying to hide anything!" He exclaimed, causing Vil to roll his eyes. 

"Hey, guys!" Kalim threw his arms around Idia and Malleus, causing them to stumble a bit, "is there a party going on?"

Malleus shook his head, "No, but we were discussing how Shroud harbors feelings for the Child of Man," he pointed at the said male with his thumb. 

"WHEN DID WE COME TO THAT CONCLUSION?"

Kalim's mouth was open in an o, "Oh, I can definitely see it! There was one time I tried to invite Idia to my party, but he was too busy swooning over the Prefect that he accidentally hit a wall," he sighed sadly. Meanwhile, Idia wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. 

"What is going on here? We should be looking for food or logs for the campfire!" Riddle looked like steam was ready to burst out of his head, but Azul, who was behind him, didn't look bothered by it. 

"We are talking about how Idia likes Yuu," Kalim brightly smiled that it could rival the sun. 

Azul held back his laughter while Riddle rolled his eyes, "What are we? School girls." He pointed a finger toward Idia, "Don't even think about denying it! Own up to it!"

As a last-ditch effort, Idia looked to Azul, "Azul, we're friends. Disagree with them!"

Azul let out a fake sigh, "Well, I buy many things as a businessman. I don't buy that you don't like the Prefect. To think that Idia, king of all introverts, would fall for the Prefect... I can't see through all my tears of joy," he said, wiping away a fake tear. 

"NOOOOOO!" Idia's hair was now entirely pink, and he tried to hide himself behind his hands. Vil, annoyed (again), grabbed a compact mirror from his pocket and opened it. He angled to where it showed Yuu feeding Grim some tuna. He grabbed Idia's hands and yanked them down, "Hey Idia, look into my mirror and tell me what you see."

Idia briefly glanced at the mirror, and his scared expression turned lovestruck, "It's Yuu feeding the itty bitty kitty," He sighed, causing everyone (including sweet little Kalim) to smirk victoriously. 

"Well, we got our answer. Let's go, gentleman." Vil closed his mirror, startling Idia, and stood up. Everyone else headed out, including Leona, who decided to find another tree to nap in.

In gaining his scenes, Idia scrambled to save himself, "Wait, that doesn't prove anything!"

"Your face said it all," Vil called out.

Idia watched as everyone became small figures until he was alone, "F in the chat for me. I will admit it, but I won't say it out loud," he muttered. 

"You won't say what out loud?" Yuu's voice asked from behind him, a hint of amusement in her voice. 

Idia wanted the earth to swallow him whole and throw him into a pool of lava. 

400 event is still open!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.