#honestly i love that they did these SO much
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
SEASON 6 ILLUSTRHATER THOUGHTS
honestly, I was expecting the animation to be more jarring for me than it actually was. It was actually really easy for me to get into and tbh just looks really nice. Adrien is the character I'll need to get used to the most, but I like his look fine, I just need to get used to it.
But like. special shoutout to nino. NINO????? NINO LOOKS. SO FUCKING CUTE. I love him so much I want to squish his face?? I'm almost unable to watch this episode in a normal way because I'm too busy staring at Nino's adorable face the whole time.
the DJWifi was so cute in this episode. theyre so sweet
in general I really like the redesigns of all the characters. I think they all look like... them. Like Nathaniel looks more like Nathaniel to me, Kagami looks more like Kagami, Sabrina looks like Sabrina and Ivan looks like Ivan. I can't describe it — they look like they've matured enough to have a better understanding of who they are. I like it.
Also, the intro sequence. If there's still any doubt about whether the show will address "marinette's lie coming back to bite her / looming over her" this season, I feel like the intro answers that pretty clearly and with a distinct tone
Another thing — the background characters look soooo much better in the new animation. Not only do they not look like terrifying low res monstrosities like they did in the old show, but they have such a wide array of distinct body types that i really appreciate. a lot of diversity in the crowds w race and disability too. and they look good. it's really refreshing.
I. LOVE. the new butterfly-telepathy sequences. the way that butterfly!lila talks to her victims in a little dreamscape where she's able to use her body language and manipulation tactics. I cannot actually emphasize how much this strangely excited me. It feels so much more emotionally impactful and interesting and dynamic and Lila than what Hawkmoth did
I know people are going to be upset about Marinette being awkward around Adrien again, but I feel like it makes a lot of sense to me. In the more general sense, it makes a lot of sense for this soft-refresh of the show that is marketing itself to a new audience to re-introduce the adrienette dynamic in a way that is just a smidge redundant to old fans. This is kind of important background on how Adrien and Marinette have always been with each other and the context of their relationship! That's important to show.
As a more in-character/universe explanation — while, yes, Adrien and Marinette started to get much more comfortable in their relationship in the old season, they never really got time to BREATHE. they were awkward and messy for the majority of their time together in s5, and then right as they started to get comfortable, Gabriel started puppeteering Adrien in a way that made things pretty tense for them, and then a whole whirlwind happened where he was sent away, and then his DAD DIED and he presumably spent a lot of the summer in mourning and— and— i dunno. I don't think it's too much of a stretch for me to believe that their relationship still feels awkward, especially when a new butterfly villain just popped up and likely reminded marinette of the whole Fiasco and threw her into mega-stress mode.
Their relationship isn't technically all that "new" like they act like it is, but this IS actually probably the first time they've been able to go on regular dates like this! So it feels new, they're still sort of in that "new" stage. Before, Gabriel was keeping Adrien away, and then Adrien probably wasn't in a good headspace for a lot of the summer after he died.
(Also, I just enjoy watching Marinette be awkward about Adrien. I definitely prefer them re-treading some old ground to new audiences than for their relationship to feel too jarringly different than how we've seen them interact in the past. I wouldn't want the time skip to be used as too much of a crutch, especially when I expect that Adrien spent a lot of it in mourning)
But anyway, they're still kissing in the season intro, and this is only episode TWO of the season, so I'm excited to see them gradually get more lovey dovey as the season goes on. (Or for Marinette's stress and guilt to overwhelm her! Who knows! I'm down!)
Oh also, Ladybug looks SO GOOD. she is so shiny and pretty and I love the red in her hair and i love her and I love ladynoir talking about their relationships and and and. and. i love them. thanks for coming to my ted talk
#ml spoilers#ml s6 spoilers#illustrhater spoilers#the illustrhater spoilers#miraculous ladybug spoilers
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
A Puddle in Running Shoes A.H.
summary: your boyfriend finds out you have a praise kink and is having way too much fun with that information
masterlist
pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
warnings: some suggestive content, hotch being a menace, reader having a praise kink, end suggests something may happen but nothing explicit in this one folks im getting my libido under control swear, also count how many times r refers to hotch's face as stupid im crying
wc: 1.9k
You hated running. No—loathed it. Detested it. Despised it with every fiber of your being. If there was a stronger word, one that captured the burning, irrational rage you felt whenever someone suggested going for a jog, Spencer might have known it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to ask. Simply put, running was not your thing.
But when Aaron—your boyfriend and somehow the most persistent man alive—asked you to join you on a run, you couldn't exactly say no. He didn't beg—Aaron Hotchner did not beg—but his version of asking, that soft it'd mean a lot to me paired with an encouraging smile, was close enough to begging in your book. Besides, you figured there'd be some sort of reward when you got back home. Aaron was good at those.
So here you were, contributing absolutely nothing to your marathon-obsessed, fitness-loving FBI boyfriend's training. Sweat coated every inch of your body, your legs felt like lead, and your lungs burned with every ragged breath you managed to suck in. The sun blazed overhead, making you feel more like a roasting chicken than a willing participant in this so-called fun activity.
Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a fitness ad—shirt clinging to him in ways that felt outright scandalous. Even the sweat on his face somehow made him look even more attractive.
He was at least ten paces ahead of you and every few steps, he'd glance over his shoulder, probably checking to make sure you hadn't spontaneously combusted or snuck off to find an air-conditioned cafe. Honestly, both were real possibilities.
Aaron's pace slowed until he was running beside you, throwing you a smile so unfairly handsome it made your legs feel weaker than they already did.
"How are you feeling?" The question felt retorical—anyone, profiler or not, was sure to be able to read you like an open book right now. "Still alive, or do I need to start figuring out the best way to carry you home without breaking any traffic laws?"
"I think I'm alive," you managed between gasps, wiping sweat from your brow. "But if carrying me is on the table, I'm not above playing dead to make that happen."
"Not necessary—I'd carry you anyway, if only to reward you for keeping up this long. You're doing great."
You foot caught a crack in the pavement, nearly hurling yourself into it, but Aaron's hand was there quicker keeping you upright as you tried to ignore the terrifying way your body had reacted to his compliment.
"Okay you can't just say stuff like that while I'm trying to run," you blurted out, avoiding his gaze. "You're trying to kill me, I swear."
You planted your hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath, secretly relieved to have a break—even if it almost involved a face-first meeting with the sidewalk.
"Stuff like what?" He tugged at your ponytail and you swatted his hand.
"Nothing," you said way too quickly, shaking your head like you could physically toss what you said aside. "Forget I said anything. Let's just... keep running."
You quickly realized your mistake as soon as you started jogging again. You would never willingly suggest to keep running. Unfortunately, Aaron was actively aware of this, moving to come up beside you. You didn't need to look at him to know he had the stupidest smirk on his face.
He didn't say anything at first, to your immediate relief, just kept jogging beside you. The silence stretched on, his calm breathing only seeming to make your wheezing sound worse.
"You're breathing too shallow," he said after a moment, his tone completely casual like he wasn't even winded. "Try to take deeper breaths—match them to your strides. It'll make it easier."
You glanced towards him out of the corner of your eye before attempting his suggestion. You had no intention of letting him know that it worked. His ego was far too substantial for that.
"See? You're a natural," he said, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Atta girl."
Your brain flatlined and you almost tripped over your feet again, every rational thought replaced by static.��What was wrong with you? You vaguely remembered reading somewhere that people with unresolved daddy issues were prone to developing praise kinks. Was that what this was? Whatever the reason, hearing Aaron talk like that shouldn't make you feel all gooey inside, but here you were, a puddle in running shoes.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, yup, fine!"
You stared at the ground so intensely, it was a miracle you didn't bore a hole into the pavement. Your voice had betrayed you, far too shaky and way too rushed, and you knew Aaron was probably filing away every bit of your reaction.
"Hey," he said softly, his hand brushing against the back of your neck as he spoke. "Stop staring at the ground. You'll run better if you keep your head up—it'll open your chest so you can breathe easier."
His hand lingered for a second too long than what your body could handle, leaving you completely flustered and fighting every urge to do exactly the opposite of what he said.
"There you go," he murmured, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. "That's good, honey. Just like that."
His voice—his god forsaken voice—was like a jolt to your system, and not in a good way. Or maybe it was a good way, which was the problem. It was bad enough to hearing it out here, on the jogging trail, but your brain decided to replay it in an entirely different inappropriate context: one that involved you, him, and a bed.
Your face burned, and you couldn't tell if it was from the exertion, or the very real possibility that your body was too receptive to those words. And now, not only were you fighting for every breath, but you were trying to figure out if the dampness between your legs was entirely from sweat. Surely it was sweat. Right? Gods, you hoped it was sweat.
You stopped so suddenly that Aaron jogged a few steps ahead before he realized you were not longer beside him.
"Okay, I'm calling it. I'm done. Can we please go home now?"
He jogged back to you, an easy smile on his face, and placed his hands on your shoulders as he reached you.
"Alright, we can be done," he teased, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones. "You survived, and you did great. I'm proud of you."
He leaned down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips that made the ache in your body a little easier to ignore.
When he pulled away, you barely managed to keep standing.
Aaron let out a low laugh, his hands squeezing your shoulders. "Alright. What's going on? What's wrong with you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," you said over your shoulder, practically power walking towards the car.
Aaron's laugh deepened and you ignored the funny feeling curling in your chest.
"Sweetheart," he said, gently tugging your elbow to slow you down. "Come on, talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine!" You avoided his eyes as you tugged your elbow free. "I'm just tired, and, uh, need a shower."
A cold shower, your brain screamed, but you shoved the thought down.
"I know, I know you're tired," he said, lips curving into a smile, "but that's because you actually pushed yourself. I'm proud of you for sticking with it."
You were pretty convinced you were you were about to go up in flames. Your obituary would read death by too many unnecessary compliments. When your heart inevitably gave out, Aaron would have to explain to Rossi and the others how his dumb smile and sweet words had resulted in second degree manslaughter.
But then you saw it—the smirk. The one that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.
"Oh my gosh, you know!" You groaned and threw your hands in the air. "You know, and you're enjoying this!"
Spinning away from him, you stormed to the car, and slammed the door like it might shield you from his stupidly smug face.
You barely had time to exhale before the passenger door swung open, revealing Aaron, casually leaning against the car.
"You know," he said lightly, his tone far too casual for your liking, "slamming car doors isn't a great habit. You could hurt yourself."
"And you know," you snapped back, pointing at him, "torturing your girlfriend isn't a great habit either!"
He leaned in slowly, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed your seatbelt. As he clicked it into place, his face lingered close to yours.
"I wasn't trying to torture you, baby. Just wanted to give you the chance to admit it—that you liked it."
Before you could muster a reply, Aaron's hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb moving along your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was so deep, leaving you no choice but to sink into it, even as the faint remnants of your annoyance tried to surface.
By the time he pulled back, you felt like you were under his spell. Then, without another word, he shut your door and headed to the driver's side.
"That's not fair," you muttered, crossing your arms and pouting as you stared out the window.
Aaron's hand found the back of your neck as he backed out of the parking spot, rubbing gently into smooth circles.
"I don't mean to be unfair," he said with a small smile. "I just needed to hear it, because sometimes people don't even realize what they need until they say it out loud. And I wanted to make sure I didn't misread anything—though I'm rarely wrong, as you know."
"Trust me, you remind me every chance you get." Your tone was dry, but you were well aware that the twitch in your lip was giving you away.
"Alright, smartass," he said, chuckling as his fingers pressed a little firmer into your neck. "Now tell me—how does it make you feel when I say those things to you?"
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I don't know, okay? I just... like it! Do I have to explain it?"
"You don't have to explain it if you don't want to," he said, "but I'd like to know what it is you like so much."
Aaron's hand moved from your neck to your hand, his fingers sliding between each of yours while his eyes stayed glued to the road, a thing that only came from months of familiar motions.
You let out a long breath. "I don't know. I just like hearing it. It makes me feel good. Special, I guess."
"You are special, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to you before returning to the road. "You're my best girl."
Your stomach flipped violently. You shifted again, trying to disguise the way your thighs pressed together tightly as your face burned hotter than ever. The debate earlier in your head was officially over—absolutely not just sweat, you thought miserably.
Aaron let out a soft chuckle, fingers brushing over your knuckles. "Something I said?"
You swatted his shoulder, your glare losing all its bite thanks to the flush all over your body. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"I can't help it," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to get you on edge. "But don't worry—I'll take care of my best girl once we're home."
You slumped in your seat, muttering something unintelligible that made Aaron chuckle again. And even though you wouldn't admit it, you found yourself smiling, already dreading and anticipating whatever he had planned when you got home.
taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99 @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs @reire11
join my taglist here!
#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x fem reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x reader#fluff#criminal minds fluff
800 notes
·
View notes
Text
Goosebumps Books 1-10
Can't believe that it took me nearly two years to just do 10 covers for the books. Will be posting more Goosebumps in the future, along with other stuff.
Read more to know my personal opinions and critiques on my fanart for each book:
Welcome to Dead House: I wanted to make the house look alive like Monster House, so I gave it more human characteristics (ie: the people in the windows to form eyes, or the finger-like branches.) Also paid homage to a horror film by styling it after The Amityville Horror house.
The Benson children themselves look a bit depressed, that's because the first book is actually more scarier than the rest of the series, so they're a bit angsty.
Stay Out of the Basement: This one killed a lot of my green markers lol. I tried to make Dr. Brewer as menacing as possible while still showing that he is a father with the photos, There were going to be more plants reaching out, but I decided that the leaves hidden on him would be enough.
Though I have to admit my disappointment with the lighting. It still looks a bit too bright, and not dark enough. That's just my own critique.
Monster Blood: Honestly, pretty mixed about this one. While I'm proud of the bubbling ooze that looks like a skull, which is outlined by one of my colored pens. I'm not proud that everything else is so muted with brown. Almost all of Jacobus' works are vibrant and saturated, so it being dull in colors feels like a disservice to him.
Also, Andy's last name was made up by me, she apparently just doesn't have one. It's inspired by Stephen King. Btw, hope you love banana and strawberry dyed hair, you'll see more of it soon in future batches.
Say Cheese and Die!: One of my favorite books, and of course it gets the best fanart imo. The screaming skeleton form of Greg Banks with red bg in the polaroid, contrasting with the dark background is just super cool, coolest shit I've ever done. Though I might be biased, I really like skeletons. Like Curly.
I actually made concept art for a Say Cheese and Die! graphic novel, which includes drawings of the photos and Spidey! Let me know if you're curious.
The Curse of The Mummy's Tomb: Not much to this one honestly. Just a mummy casually busting down a wall filled with hieroglyphics. Though I will say, I was experimenting with shading with purple and blues like Jacobus. As you can see, didn't stick for long.
This is also the book that I discovered that if the protag doesn't have a last name, then there is an official one either in the Presents novels, the mobile app, comics or other.
Let's Get Invisible!: This was pretty tricky to draw. Drawing someone turning invisible maybe easy in Photoshop or Procreate, but this was traditional art. Sure Jacobus did it with airbrushes, but I all had were pens and markers. But I somehow managed to pull it off, which is insane that I even managed that in the first place.
Night of the Living Dummy: Ah, the infamous Pamela Vorhees book, where the main antagonist isn't the mascot, but instead some other puppet lol. I've seen a lot of fanart of Slappy, but never of Mr. Wood. So I wanted to do justice for Wood while still showcasing Slappy. While I am proud for how it mostly turned out, there are two things that bother me. 1. This is the night sky that is black, the rest are either blue or purple. 2. I forgot to add the lines that make the jaw on Mr. Wood, whoops.
Aside from that, I hope guys like that Misfits poster in the background and Kris's cool hair cut. The green was inspired by the comic adaption not 2015 Jacksepticeye.
The Girl Who Cried Monster: Please forgive me for the small thumbnail, I wasn't using a ruler at the time. The design for Mr. Mortman wasn't much of a challenge. I loosely based it off of the French rendition of the cover and gave him a large leech-like mouth.
In my headcannon, the teeth spin like a garbage disposal, making easy work of the turtles.
Welcome to Camp Nightmare: Another one of my favorites, and I think I did a decent enough job, too. The lighting is perfect, the clouds look alien enough, and you can just barely see the screaming campers inside the tent. I do have one issue though, and that is the size of the monster, Sabre. In the original sketch I did, he was supposed to blend in like a bush, but instead he looks like Sasquatch Sr. Oh well.
While they did give Billy a last name in the Presents books, I had to make up one for Dawn. Just based it off Gwen Stacy lol. Also, hope you enjoy the little bonus pictures down below.
The Ghost Next Door: The original Jacobus art was perfectly vague enough to keep the twist there but not spoil anything. Of course to do the same thing, but with a twist of my own. The "ghost" shadow that you see in the street is the Dark Figure that follows Hannah around or when Danny is near. I wanted it to look like it was constantly on fire, since SPOILERS: someone in the book does die in a fire.
Another headcannon is that the Dark Figure isn't actually a ghost or whatever, but instead the embodiment of Misery.
#goosebumps#goosebumps fanart#welcome to dead house#stay out of the basement#monster blood#say cheese and die#the curse of the mummys tomb#lets get invisble#night of the living dummy#the girl who cried monster#welcome to camp nightmare#the ghost next door#horror#nostalgia#90s nostalgia#amanda benson#josh benson#magret brewer#casey brewer#dr brewer#evan ross#andy kingsley#greg banks#shari walker#gabe sabry#sari hassad#max thompson#lefty thompson#kris powell#lindy powell
786 notes
·
View notes
Text
I remember once I was at a T-shaped intersection, crossing on the right side of the T from top down. About a second into walking into the street, y'know - after waiting for the lights to change and the walk signal to come on, this guy revs up and pulls into the intersection, ready to turn right. Already breaking the law of course, pulling right into the street before I was all the way across. And then he leans out of his window and starts screaming at me to hurry up and get across the street.
I didn't even have the opportunity to check for this fucker to see if he was going to let me cross. Put aside that I had right of way and had waited for the lights to change, he hadn't even BEEN at the intersection, just came zipping down at me.
I didn't feel terrified until after the whole thing was done. In the moment I was just so angry because how dare he, honestly? How dare he come so close to being able to just murder me with his fucking truck and then get mad at ME because I'm slowing him down by a few seconds?
I was so mad that I actually stopped in the middle of the crosswalk and looked him dead in the eyes. And I wish this was the part of the story where I could say he looked ashamed of himself, where I could think maybe he learned something that day that would change how he drove or treated people. Maybe he looked back at me and realized how much power he held over my life in that moment and mouthed "sorry" at me.
But no, he just got more angry and leaned on his horn and called me a faggot. I must have been the worst part of his day, the way he was acting.
So I just gave him the finger and resumed crossing the street, albeit at a snail's pace because I'm a petty little bitch when I'm mad. And as soon as there was any clearance behind me he went zooming off, still screaming at me. I could see another driver waiting at the intersection, one who had a red light still, look absolutely horrified. I think she felt more shame as a driver than this guy did.
And seeing her face was when I felt scared. When the reality dawned on me of how easily I could have been killed in that moment just because I was an inconvenience to an asshole. I slowed him down for an extra 20 seconds, and he treated me like absolute trash. He could have killed me so easily. The only power I had in that moment was to make his day just a little bit worse by extending the inconvenience a few more seconds. And I took that power gleefully in the moment, but I really shouldn't have. I should have just crossed the street because what if he did decide then to run me over? I would love to say that even this douchebag supreme wouldn't be that bad, but honestly? How could I know? If he was that willing to fly off the handle with zero provocation, I shouldn't have trusted that he wouldn't run me down for slowing down and giving him the finger. But taking the tiny bit of power I had in that moment felt really good and necessary in the heat of the moment.
I dunno, I don't have a good lesson here. I don't regret it in the slightest but I do also think it wasn't the safe thing to do. It wasn't worth the risk of dying in that moment.
Some people have no concept of the power they hold. This story is far and away not the only time I feel like I've come close to being killed by drivers who were stupid, angry, mean, or just plain not paying attention. I wish more people would remember that they're piloting a killing machine at high velocity and I'm just a little fleshbag out in the open air. I have to be so careful, and it makes me a bit bitter to watch the drivers who blithely zoom around and forget to stop or slow down or check for pedestrians like me.
Nothing exposes the inability of people to navigate power imbalances quite like the relationship between drivers and pedestrians.
For example, I just had a driver get screaming-at-me mad because I stopped walking at a slip lane to make sure he was going to stop. And like, buddy, I know I have the right of way, but if I assume you are going to stop and I guess wrong, I will literally die. Whereas if I wait to see if you're actually going to slow down, I am just delaying both of us by a couple of seconds. And that might have more to do with why I made the choice that I did than my being a stupid bitch who needs to learn the rules. Like, if you can't understand why the fact that you could effortlessly accidentally kill me (and likely face no consequences) means I am reticent to assume the best from you, maybe you just shouldn't have any power over anyone ever.
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
Back to my roots (Cornley textposts)
#Why did I make it look like Dennis is holding the text post you ask? For the thrill.#Honestly the Trevor Max and Chris one can be read in any order. Readers choice.#They're all so awful and I love them so very much#the sillies#the goes wrong show#mischief theatre#mischief comedy#tgws
79 notes
·
View notes
Note
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I URGE YOU TO TALK ABOUT THE SEASON 6 CHARACTER DESIGNS. Mostly cus i wanna hear the salt, but also because as someone who's designed many outfits for these characters over the course of multiple years, you more than anyone have your place to talk
Honestly the episode was just *okay*, so the designs are really the only place I'm particularly heated (I mean I still have my complaints on the episode, but nothing as anger inducing as Season 5):
So I'll start with the heroes:
I'm not mad about cutting off Bunnix because nothing's different.
Viperion - I like what they did with the mask and the deeper color contrast is delicious, but the suit feels like such a downgrade from the old design.
Carapace - I guess this is the Season of the Mask Facial Hair? Viperion is encroaching on this, but Carapace's little chin bit looks like a Soul Patch. Otherwise, it's a good design and I like the additions!
Vesperia - At least it looks like they fixed the weird root issue she had with her bangs from the old model. From what I can see here, I don't dislike this, like, full inversion making the top yellow and the pants black. Dunno what the ring around her thumb is though, and why does she hold her weapon like that??
Rena Rouge - it feels like they made changes to her because they thought they had to? I'm not mad at the differences, just...they sure are there. My only complaint about her is that they colored her tail as if she has two tails but she only has one? Like...just give her two coattails.
At least they ditched the corset U_U
Rooster Bold - The pose makes it hard to see, but he looks pretty cool to me! LOVE the new mask and his bitchy heels. Didn't like the mohawk then, still don't like it now.
Ryuko - this^ picture doesn't show her off, so here's her from the episode:
The suit is still nothing amazing, but I like the scale texture and shoulders, I LOVE the bigger horns, and her hair is fire~!
Miss Hound - yikes on this picture, thank god she cameo'd in the episode:
She's cute! ...Honestly anything was an upgrade, she was just wearing a recolored version of her outfit in Season 4-5, so the fact this is it's own thing is instantly better.
King Monkey - yikes the lighting on this is scary. Anyway, I can't really glean anything from this and the only thing that stands out is the horns on the circlet. I'll pend judgement for now.
Pegasus - Similarly to KM, there's not much I can note here? He's got longer hair so that's...something, but I like that now the visor is a full visor and not a floating pair of glasses. And we'll have to see it in an episode because here I like the contrast between the browns, but the old suit also had that contrast in promo material and then lost it in the episode.
Caprikid - Loooove the fur on the pants for some reason, and I die for the boots little hooves~ Bold choice to go bigger on the horns when there was some controversy about them, but hey. At least they fixed the problem with his white mask.
Minotaurox - aww what a cute widdle hammer. It really looks stunted, a lot of the weapons here look skinnier and weaker actually. I don't think I like the yellow on the horns, but I like that we can actually SEE the details on his suit now. And I like the hoodie/hair.
Argos - yep. That's Argos.
Purple Tigress - Okay, she looks dope AF! No notes, she looks awesome.
Pigella - And on the other hand...yikes. There so much going on here, and in fairness I can't fully understand what I'm looking at. This is not what I meant when I kept adding pig ears to my Pigella design!
Polymouse - Okay, no lie, I DID like her in this still image, but uhhh she's in the episode and um...
Girl no. What's with these LED strips?! WHY is your HAIR going THROUGH you hoodie?! And I know in comparison to the other characters she's still "plus sized" but this still feels...bad.
I won't talk about Ladybug and Chat Noir, they're good. Not exciting not bad just good.
Sooooo the humans.... Mostly I'm bothered by how some are so drastically changed and some are just...not. At all.
Alya - her new Mom lewk. Idk, I just feel like they could've gone harder. She looks fine, I actually like her hair when I watch the animation in motion, it's just...she looks 25 now.
Alix - uh, yep that's Alix. Wait, did her pony tail switch sides...?
Zoe - She's found her 2000s emo girl aesthetic and is clinging to those crusty shoes. I don't like it, her dumb tshirt was really my biggest problem with her old design so of course that's the part hey keep. She just looks...disjointed. I'll hold on judgment of her hair for now.
Kagami - love the hair, hate the crop jacket. It makes her skirt look reeeeeally short.
Sabrina - AH! NO! BAD! WRONG! Hate the hair, hate the pants, I don't even think I like her new glasses. This is a chop, a CHOP!
Juleka - I don't...hate the hair. I just weep for what we lost. I DO hate her new boring-er blouse which is just a weak imitation of her old top. Her hair is so wild so why did her clothes get more boring?
Rose - Season 6 Rose can't hurt you, Season 6 Rose can't hurt you, Season 6 Rose can't hurt you-!!
Mylene - I like her new outfit, it feels like the natural next step for her! I can't get a good look at her new hair though, so I'll reserve judgement.
Nino - Damn, finally a full glow up. Nino looks good! This is probably how I would have designed him the first time around, so, yay!
Felix - you fucking loser, you didn't change here either?! Are SentiBoys just stunted?!
Kim - His big change is...getting sleeves. And his roots are more visible? I guess??
Max - Why this nerd got a smolder all of a sudden? I think he'd look good if they just finally ditched the suspenders, or had them hanging down and not in use.
Nathaniel - Have...have I drawn him in this? I feel like there's a Scarlet Lady version of this. I guess that tells you I like it, right?
Ivan - Hell yeeeeees! GLOW UP! He's like "oh, I gotta wear this nose ring all the time? Better make it ALL WORK TOGETHER!!" I didn't know he had it in him, good job!
Luka - uhhh, is he wearing a different jacket, or is that his old jacket in the new animation style? At least he stopped advertising his own father on his chest. His shirt being tucked in...it disturbs me...
Marc - ...I can't tell if he even got a hair cut because it might just be the new style.
So yeah, I have quibbles but they're overall okay.
If you really want nightmare fuel, you see the kwamis.
#sorry for the jumpscare at the end#after I saw the kwamis the humans were all forgivable because wtf?!#season 6 spoilers#ml spoilers#ask zoe
268 notes
·
View notes
Text
✑ 𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜
· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·
𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Who doesn’t love a good bunny suit fanfic? This little piece was inspired by the incredible artwork of @alienfreak124. I’m always in awe of her creations—her OC is so cool! Honestly, every time I see her work, I wish I had the talent to draw. T-T Always wanted to see what my OC would look like in the Tkatb fandom.
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.
Also, I’ve been thinking about branching out into other fandoms—Creepypasta is definitely at the top of the list since it was such a huge part of my childhood. Ticci Toby has always been my favorite, and I’m super excited to dive into that world. I’m also considering Death Note and Black Butler, but who knows?
For now, I’m pretty set on exploring the creepy side first, especially with all the dark, twisted fandoms.
Anyway, I’ve got about three fics in the works for these lovely men—Crowe, Sol, and Geo. But it’s gonna be one day at a time because, let’s be real, I need to stop posting these things so damn late. College life is getting hectic, but I’m making it work, even if it means less sleep. Priorities, right?
· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·
✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒
You’re in your room, standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of a plain black dress.
It’s simple, safe, and exactly the kind of outfit you’d usually wear to a small party. You tilt your head, trying to decide if “simple” is too boring. The party isn’t exactly a big deal—just a casual gathering—but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind:
Crowe’s going to be there.
Before you can overthink it, there’s a sudden knock at your door. “Hey! Open up!” Brittney’s voice is unmistakable—high-energy and impossible to ignore. You sigh, already knowing she’s about to upend whatever plans you’ve made for the evening.
When you open the door, Brittney bursts in like a hurricane, her arms overflowing with what looks like… fur? No, it’s worse. It’s a bunny costume—a black bodysuit with matching ears, thigh high socks, and heels so high they look like a twisted form of punishment.
“Oh no,” you say immediately, holding up your hands in protest. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on!” Brittney waves the outfit in front of you like it’s the Holy Grail. “It’s perfect! It’s fun, it’s flirty, and you’ll steal the spotlight! Imagine the look on everyone’s faces when you walk in wearing this. Especially Jericho.”
Your stomach flips at the mention of his name, but you shake your head. “There’s no way I’m wearing that. I’ll look ridiculous!”
“Ridiculous?” Brittney scoffs, planting her hands on her hips. “Please. You’ll look hot. Besides, when was the last time you did something bold? Live a little!” She leans in, grinning mischievously. “And, you know, like I said he might notice.”
You roll your eyes, before releasing a sigh, “Britt, I’m not trying to ‘steal the spotlight.’ I just want to blend in.”
“Blend in?” She gasps like you’ve just insulted her personally. “Blending in is for cowards. And you’re not a coward, are you?”
“...You’re guilt-tripping me.”
“Is it working?”
Unfortunately, yes. You stare at the bunny suit like it’s a wild animal that might bite you, but part of you can’t help wondering: What if Brittney’s right? What if Crowe actually notices?
“Fine,” you say, at last, snatching the costume from her hands. “But different heels and if I look stupid, I’m blaming you.”
Brittney claps her hands in triumph. “You’ll look amazing, trust me! Now, hurry up and get dressed—I need to see the final look.”
You sigh and shut the door, holding up the bunny suit with a mix of dread and curiosity.
This is either the best idea or the worst mistake.
The moment you step into the party, a hush falls over the room—or at least it feels like it. The warm glow of string lights strung across the ceiling doesn’t do much to soothe the nerves twisting in your stomach. You keep your head down, gripping a drink you barely remember picking up, and try to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re dressed like a bunny in a room full of people dressed... normally.
Brittney, of course, is loving every second of it. She’s practically glowing as she flits around the room, dropping comments like, “Isn’t she adorable?” and “Doesn’t she look amazing?” to anyone within earshot. You glare at her from across the room, but she just winks and mouths, “You’re welcome.”
You hover near the edge of the crowd, trying to blend into the background. It’s ironic, considering the ridiculous outfit, but you figure if you keep still enough, maybe no one will notice. That plan works for about five minutes—until you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye.
Crowe.
He’s leaning against the wall near the bookshelf, casually sipping from a glass, his posture as effortlessly relaxed as ever. Even in the soft glow of the party lights, he’s sharp, dressed in his usual clean, put-together style that somehow manages to look both formal and casual at the same time. He always looks like he belongs on a magazine cover—button-up sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he listens to someone talk.
You freeze, torn between retreating to the nearest shadowy corner and pretending you haven’t seen him, or... well, doing something else. But then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Crowe looks up—and the moment his gaze lands on you, it’s like the rest of the party fades into the background.
You brace yourself, half-expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, his eyebrows lift slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into what might just be the faintest hint of a smirk. He takes another sip of his drink, sets the glass down, and begins making his way toward you.
Oh no.
Before you can figure out an escape route, he’s standing in front of you, tall and composed, with that cool, unreadable expression that makes your heart do ridiculous things.
His expression is calm and unreadable, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes that immediately sets you on edge. The drink in your hand suddenly feels useless as you clutch it tightly, wishing you had anything to focus on besides the way Crowe’s gaze is very obviously trailing over your bunny suit. Slowly.
“Nice to see you decided to... dress up,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement as he comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes flicker from your bunny ears to the tights and back to your face, where your mortified expression only seems to fuel his teasing.
“This wasn’t my idea,” you say quickly, feeling the need to defend yourself. “Britt made me wear it. She said it’ll steal the spotlight or whatever…”
Crowe raises a brow, “Britney suggested this..?” then soft smile appears once again as he leans just slightly closer. “Oh, I believe you. But she didn’t make you come to me wearing it, did she?”
You sputter, your face heating up. “I didn’t come to you! You walked over here!”
“Did I?” he asks innocently, his smirk widening into something outright devilish. “Must’ve been the bunny ears. Hard to miss.”
You glare at him, your mind racing for some kind of witty comeback, but it’s hard to think when his gaze keeps darting to your legs, the curve of your waist, and then back to your face, like he’s deliberately making a show of it.
“Well,” he says after a beat, his tone maddeningly casual. “She wasn’t wrong.”
Your brain short-circuits. He did not just say that.
“Excuse me?”
“About the spotlight,” he clarifies, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. “You’ve certainly got everyone’s attention.”
You rolled your eyes, “I look ridiculous,” crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head away from his gaze.
It wasn’t long before you felt his finger under your chin to look at him once more, his deep blue eyes filled with warmth, “I wouldn’t say that now,” he counters smoothly. His voice drops a little lower, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. But I’m curious—how many people have tried their luck with you tonight?”
Your eyes widen. “W-what?”
You can’t decide whether to tell the truth to him or strangle him.
“Come on,” he says, his smirk turning positively wicked. “In that outfit? Like you said, half the room is staring. Though...” He leans in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I doubt anyone else is appreciating it quite as much as I am.”
Your breath hitches, and you’re sure your face is about to burst into flames. “Crowe, you can’t just—”
“Say the truth?” he interrupts smoothly, stepping just close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his blueberry cologne. “Oh, I can. And I will.”
You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, Crowe’s gaze shifts, scanning the room. The teasing glint in his deep blue eyes is replaced with something sharper, almost protective, as he takes in the prying eyes of the other partygoers.
“It’s way too many people here,” Crowe mutters, his voice low enough that it feels like the words are meant only for him. Then he glances back at you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your breath hitch.
“Let’s leave.” He mumbled.
“What?”
“I said, let’s leave.” His hand brushes lightly against your elbow, the fleeting touch sending a spark up your arm. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable but heavy with something unspoken. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here and let everyone keep gawking at you like you’re... on display.”
Your eyes dart around the room, catching a few glimpses of the subtle but unmistakable stares in your direction. The air feels suffocating now, and the idea of staying in this crowded space seems unbearable. Still, you hesitate, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his presence.
“Fine,” you say at last, forcing an air of nonchalance even as your pulse quickens. “But if you’re planning to tease me, I’m leaving the second you start.”
Crowe chuckles—a deep, smooth sound that does nothing to steady your nerves. “Don’t worry,” he says, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk as he places a hand lightly on the small of your back to guide you toward the door. “I’ll behave.”
You’re not entirely convinced, but before you can second-guess your decision, the two of you are stepping into the cool night air. The sharp contrast to the party’s stuffy warmth sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not just the chill that has you trembling.
Crowe’s steps are deliberate, his presence magnetic as he walks you to his car. He unlocks the passenger door with a smooth motion, holding it open for you before rounding the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The quiet thud of the door closing feels heavier in the silence, the hum of the engine breaking the tension only slightly.
“Brittney’s going to wonder where I went,” you say softly, partly to yourself, as Crowe pulls out of the driveway.
“I’ll text her later,” he replies, his tone calm but firm. “She’ll survive.”
The car is dimly lit, the glow of passing streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his sharp features. You can feel his gaze flicking toward you every so often, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle.
He doesn’t speak for a while, but the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged—like the air before a storm. You’re hyper-aware of every detail: the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the faint scent of his blueberry cologne filling the small space, the way his jaw tightens whenever you catch him sneaking glances.
“You shouldn’t let her talk you into things like that,” he says suddenly, his voice lower now, almost rough.
“Like what?” you ask, even though you know exactly what he means.
He glances at you briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line before his expression softens. “Like wearing something that makes every guy in the room look at you like they’ve forgotten how to think.”
The words are sharper than you expect, tinged with an edge of possessiveness that makes your breath catch.
“I thought you didn’t mind people staring,” you counter, trying to keep your voice steady.
“I don’t,” he says, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Unless it’s you.”
The confession hangs in the air, heavy and electrifying. You look over at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no teasing smirk now, no easy charm—just raw, unguarded honesty in his gaze as he pulls the car to a stop at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.
He turns to face you fully, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something unmistakable.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the words rough with restraint.
Your lips part, but no sound comes out. The heat in his gaze is overwhelming, and you feel pinned in place by the sheer intensity of it.
“I’ve been trying to keep my distance,” he continues, his tone rough and uneven now, “but seeing you tonight, dressed like that, letting everyone else see you like that…” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It drove me crazy.”
The air in the car feels thick, charged with an unspoken tension that’s almost suffocating. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breaths shallow as you sit still, unsure of what to say—or if there’s even anything you should say. The silence stretches out, heavy and electric, until Crowe shifts closer to you, his movements deliberate yet almost hesitant.
His hand rises, and for a moment, you think he might stop midway. But then his fingers gently brush against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is light, almost feather-soft, yet it lingers—his fingertips trailing against your skin just long enough to leave a burning imprint.
“Please tell me to stop…” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, the faintest edge of uncertainty in his tone. “…before I do something I’ll regret.”
A shiver races up your spine at the feel of his touch, and the heat of his proximity makes it impossible to think straight. Your breath hitches, and you swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You manage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching, as though he’s looking for any sign of hesitation.
“And if I don’t want you to stop?” you whisper, your voice trembling but carrying a weight of undeniable desire.
His breath catches, his chest rising sharply as though you’ve just knocked the air out of him. His eyes widen, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his usually composed face. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to convince himself he heard you correctly.
You don’t reply right away—words feel clumsy in the intensity of this moment. Crowe’s gaze still lingers on you, steady and deliberate, traveling down the length of your figure and then back up again. His deep blue eyes seem darker in the dim light, their usual warmth replaced by something unreadable, something that makes your pulse race. His soft smile was still there, faint but unshakable, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
Your breath catches, and for a second, all you can think is how badly you don’t want this moment to end. Then, before your mind has time to catch up, your body moves on instinct. Slowly, deliberately, you move your body forward—out of the passenger seat closing the distance between you and him.
His head tilts slightly as he watches you, his soft smile faltering, replaced by a soft gasp for just a heartbeat as you climb onto his lap. Your knees press into the seat on either side of him, the soft material of your tights brushing against his thighs as you warp your arms around his neck looking at him.
For a brief moment, neither of you speaks. The air feels heavy, charged with something neither of you can name. His reaction is filled with disbelief.He inhales quickly, his chest rising against yours, and his hands lift instinctively to your hips. His grip is firm yet hesitant, his fingers flexing slightly on the tight spandex of your bunny suitas though he’s testing the reality of the situation.
You’re glad you caught him like this—off-guard, unguarded. It’s rare to see him anything but happily composed, but now? Now, his usual teasing and confidence feels shaken, his calm veneer cracking just enough to let you peek underneath.
“Don’t regret this…” you whisper, your voice low and thick with emotion. “Please don’t stop, Jericho.”
The tension in his shoulders eases, but only slightly. His body remains taut beneath yours, every muscle coiled like a spring. His hands tighten against your hips as if anchoring himself—or maybe anchoring you. He leans forward, and the closeness is dizzying.
His breath fans against your neck, warm and teasing, and goosebumps rise across your skin in response. His hands shift from your hips, sliding upward in slow, deliberate movements that leave you breathless. His thumbs trace over your waist, the faintest pressure sparking heat in their wake. His fingers move higher, brushing against your sides, and you can’t stop the way your body responds, arching slightly into his touch.
Soon his lips hover near your ear, his voice low and husky, dripping with intent as he murmurs, “I won’t.”
May got a little carried away here…
✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁
You don’t know how it happened.
So okay, you do know how it happened—you were dumb enough to bet against Hyugo. The guy might be obnoxious, loud, and silly as hell, but unfortunately, he’s also good at literally everything. Somehow, that fact slipped your mind when you let him talk you into betting on the last round of a stupid game at a party.
It was one of those chaotic, anything-goes types of games, the kind where people are shouting over each other, rules barely make sense, and luck has just as much sway as skill. You don’t even remember what it was called—something involving a blindfold, ping pong balls, and a lot of yelling. I’m kidding here…
All you know is that Hyugo had that stupid grin on his face, the one he always wears when he knows he’s about to win.
“Come on,” he’d said, his voice dripping with smugness as he leaned against the table. “You scared or something? What’s the worst that could happen?”
And like an idiot, you fell for it. “I’m not scared,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re on.”
Big mistake.
Because five minutes later, you were standing there in stunned silence, staring at Hyugo’s triumphant face as he held up his winning ping pong ball like it was an Olympic gold medal.
“Wow, that was almost too easy!” he said, laughing as he clapped you on the shoulder. “You really thought you could beat me?.”
You scowled, already regretting your life choices. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want?”
His grin widened, and you instantly knew you were doomed. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice practically oozing with fake innocence. “It’s nothing crazy. Just a little outfit change for, let’s say... an hour?”
Your stomach dropped. “What kind of outfit change? I have a movie night at Sol’s place later,”
And now here you are, standing in Sol’s dimly lit studio apartment, wearing a bunny suit that makes you feel about three sizes too exposed and questioning every decision you’ve ever made.
How the tf did Hyugo knew your size anyway?
The small space smells like popcorn and energy drinks, and there’s a paused horror movie on the screen, but all of that pales in comparison to the look on Sol’s face.
He hasn’t stopped staring since you walked in.
The guy is sitting on his beat-up couch, one leg tucked under him, the TV remote hanging limp in his hand. His mouth is slightly open, and his face?
Bright red.
Like, glowing tomato-red, borderline matching the devil on the movie poster behind him.
“…What are you doing?” he finally chokes out, his voice cracking just enough to make you raise an eyebrow. He clears his throat and tries again, this time deeper: “I mean, what’s this?” He gestures vaguely at you, but his hand is shaking a little, so it’s not exactly smooth.
You cross your arms, trying to tug the hem of the crotch area down to show less skin, but there’s no saving it—it’s just too short. “Lost a bet to Hyugo from party earlier today,” you mumble, your voice flat, as if that explains everything.
Sol squints at you, the disbelief radiating off him in waves. “Hyugo made you do this?” His tone flips between outraged and incredulous. His eyes dart down to the whole getup— floppy bunny ears, the thigh-high socks, even a little button tie—and then snap back up so fast you think he might’ve given himself a neck cramp. “Ugh… He’s the worst sometimes.”
“Yeah, thanks for the groundbreaking insight,” you deadpan, shooting him a withering glare. “I figured that out the moment Hyugo handed me this thing.”
Sol drags a hand through his perpetually messy hair, clearly grappling with some kind of inner turmoil. “You didn’t have to wear it, though,” he mutters, his usual grumbly tone edged with something oddly defensive. “You could’ve just… I dunno, said no.”
You blink at him, unimpressed. “Oh, sure. And let Hyugo post that video of me tripping like an idiot in front of the entire campus? An excellent alternative, Sol. Really genius stuff.”
He makes a weird noise in his throat, half a groan, half something else, and he mutters, “Still better than this…” But his eyes betray him.
Because despite the whole “ugh, this is dumb” act, Sol keeps looking. Like, really looking. His gaze lingers on your bunny ears, the curve of the bodysuit, and the thigh-high socks that are making you wish the couch would swallow you whole. Every time his eyes travel down, they snap back up so fast you’d think he got whiplash.
“What’s your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, mostly for your sanity. “You’re staring.”
“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, dragging his hand down his face with a groan. “Whatever. I’m not the one dressed like…” His words trail off as he waves vaguely in your direction, his ears reddening again as if even describing the outfit is too much for him.
You sigh and plop down on his old couch because there’s literally nowhere else to go in this shoebox of an apartment. As soon as you do, Sol freezes like you’ve just stepped on a landmine. His whole body stiffens, his hands gripping his knees, and you swear he stops breathing.
“Relax,” you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh. “It’s not like I want to be here in this dumb outfit either.”
“You don’t look unhappy,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it.
Your head snaps toward him, catching the faintest flicker of his eyes darting to your outfit before immediately locking onto the popcorn bowl on the coffee table like it’s his last lifeline. His face is ‘burning’, and it only gets worse when he realizes you caught him looking.
“Excuse me?” you ask, leaning in slightly because you can’t let him off the hook that easily.
“I didn’t—” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat so violently it’s almost painful. “I just meant—uh, never mind.” But his ears are practically glowing, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.
“Sure, okay,” you say, sighing as you settle deeper into the couch, before you mention, “It’s not like you’ve been staring at me like a creep since I walked in or anything.”
“I wasn’t staring!” he blurts, far too defensively for someone who was. He drags a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up even more as he groans like he’s on the verge of losing it.
“Oh, you weren’t?” you tease, tilting your head. “Are you calling me a liar?”
He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to your legs for half a second before darting away. His hands curl into fists on his lap, and his breathing sounds... uneven.
Fast.
One second, you’re sitting on the couch, awkwardly avoiding his gaze, and the next, you’re swept up off the cushions. His arms slide under you, one wrapping around your back and the other hooking beneath your knees, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry.
“Sol!” you shriek, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. “What are you—put me down!”
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he lowers himself back onto the couch, keeping you securely in his hold. Your legs dangle awkwardly over his arm, your heels threatening to slip off, and you’re acutely aware of how close your faces are now—his warm breath brushing against your skin, his sharp eyes fixed on yours.
“Relax,” he mutters, his tone gruff but oddly soft. “You were fidgeting too much. Thought you were about to hurt yourself or something.”
“Hurt what now?!” you snap, glaring at him even as your cheeks flush. “I wasn’t—Sol, that doesn’t even make sense. Let me go.”
“Not yet,” he says simply, his grip tightening slightly as if daring you to try and wriggle free.
You glare at him, but the heat of his gaze makes it hard to keep your composure. His eyes flicker down for a moment—trailing from your flushed face to the curve of your legs draped over his arm. He’s trying to play it cool, but the way his jaw clenches and his ears turn a faint shade of pink gives him away.
“Your legs are cold,” he murmurs after a beat, his voice quieter now.
“I wonder why,” you deadpan, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at the hint of concern in his tone.
His lips twitch a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “This outfit isn’t practical.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly pick it,” you grumble, squirming slightly in his hold.
“Stop moving,” he mutters, his voice dropping an octave. His hands shift slightly, one sliding along your back and the other brushing against your thigh as he adjusts his grip. The casual intimacy of it makes your face burn hotter.
“Sol...” you warn, your voice shaky.
But instead of answering, he leans back slightly, settling you more comfortably in his lap. The movement makes your head spin—partly from the sudden shift, but mostly because of how close he is now. You’re practically curled up against his chest, his arm still supporting your legs while his other hand rests firmly against your back.
And then he looks at you again. Really looks at you. His orange-red eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing, grumbly version of Sol you’re used to is nowhere to be found. There’s something different in his expression now—something serious, almost vulnerable, and it steals the breath from your lungs.
“You should be more careful,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee. His hands slide from your hips to your legs. “These heels could’ve hurt me,” His thumbs trace slow, deliberate circles along the tops of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine.
Your mouth opens to respond—maybe to defend yourself, maybe to yell at him, you’re not sure—but then his hands shift lower, skimming over the curve of your calves. He grabs one of your feet, his fingers curling around your ankle as he starts tugging off your shoe.
“Sol, I can do that myself—”
“N-No,” he practically begged. His cheeks are pink, his expression strained like he’s trying to keep it together. “Please, just let me.”
You’re too stunned to argue. He’s slow about it, almost hesitant, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin as he removes one shoe, then the other. When he’s done, he lets his hands linger for a moment, his thumbs brushing over your bare ankles.
His eyes flicker back up to yours, and there’s something desperate in his expression now like he’s holding himself back from doing something stupid. “Why do you always have to make this so hard?” he mutters, half to himself.
“I’m making 'it' hard?” you blurt, your voice shaky.
“You showed up like this,” he counters, his gaze sweeping over you again. “Looking like... this.”
He leans closer, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hand slides up, tracing a line from your ankle to your knee, then up your thigh, stopping just shy of where the hem of the bunny suit begins. His knee presses a little closer, and you suck in a sharp breath.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your brain short-circuits. You don’t even know how to respond to that, especially not when his eyes are locked on yours like he’s waiting for an answer.
“Sol,” you finally manage, your voice barely audible. “You’re being weird.”
“I know,” he mutters, his lips twitching into a crooked, almost self-deprecating smile. “I’m always weird. But you make it worse.”
And with that, he dips his head lower, his breath ghosting over your lips like he’s daring you to stop him.
Please don’t make him stop…
✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜
Geo hadn’t thought much about your text at first.
You were running late—what else was new? He was used to it by now. You’d told him to let himself in with the key under the mat since you were still getting ready, and, well, that’s what he did.
Your apartment was as familiar to him as ever: the faint smell of your scented candles. Geo plopped onto the couch, scrolling through his phone to kill time. After about ten minutes of waiting, he sighed loudly, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.
“Why do I let you do this to me?” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. He made his way down the hall, the hardwood floor creaking faintly under his boots.
The door to your bedroom was cracked open, soft light spilling out into the hallway. He tapped lightly on the frame with his knuckles. “Hey, we’re gonna be late, y’know. What’s taking you so—”
He pushed the door open mid-sentence, stepping inside. And then he stopped.
His brain short-circuited.
There you were, standing in front of your full-length mirror, fiddling with a pair of floppy bunny ears.
A very, very skimpy bunny suit clung to you like a second skin, all shiny black fabric and sheer tights that showed just enough to drive someone insane. The plunging neckline, the dangerously high cut of the bodysuit, the tiny bowtie collar around your neck—it was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet somehow…
You looked stunning.
Geo froze in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His trademark sarcasm, his quick wit, his effortless aloof expression? Gone. His brain? Absolutely empty.
His mouth opened like he wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out.
You noticed him then, spinning around so fast that your bunny ears flopped dramatically to one side. “Geo!” you shrieked, your voice an octave higher than usual. “What the hell are you doing? I thought you were on the couch.”
“What am I doing?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes flicked over you, up and down, up and down, like he couldn’t stop himself. He quickly snapped his gaze upward, focusing on the very uninteresting ceiling. “What the hell are you wearing?”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for a charity event,” you muttered defensively. “Crowe asked me to help raise donations.”
Geo’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to keep his gaze anywhere but directly on you. His eyes betrayed him, though, darting back to your legs, your waist, your— “What kind of charity involves… that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at your outfit like it was some kind of alien artifact.
You groaned, turning back to the mirror to adjust the bunny ears again. “It’s a themed event, okay? College students are more likely to donate if there’s… I don’t know, incentive?”
“Incentive…?” Geo repeated, “And Crowe ask you wear that? Crowe?” His tone was somewhere between disbelief and outrage. “What is wrong with him? Is he insane?”
“It’s not that bad,” you said defensively, though your voice wavered because, yeah, it was kind of bad. “It’s for a good cause!”
Geo crossed his arms, his lips pulling into a tight line. “No. Nope. Not happening. You’re not walking out of here dressed like that. I don’t care if it’s for world peace.”
You threw your hands up. “What are you, my dad? Relax, Geo. It’s fine.”
“Fine?” He frowns, irritated, his eyes accidentally drifting downward before snapping back up to your face. He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “You look like—you—ugh, never mind.”
You raised an eyebrow. “I look like what?”
“Forget it.” he sighed, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Just… just go change or something."
“I can’t!” you said, exasperated. “This is the whole point of the event!”
Geo groaned, dragging a hand down his face in pure exasperation. His usual sharp wit was dulled by whatever internal battle he was clearly losing. “Why do I have to be the one to see this? Literally anyone else would’ve been better. Anyone.”
You crossed your arms, giving him an incredulous look. “You’re the only one with a car who wasn’t busy,” you shot back, matter-of-fact as ever.
Geo huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You should’ve just taken the bus, then!”
“And have creepy men ogling me the whole ride? Absolutely not,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “You’re a much better option. Like it or not.”
“Well,” he muttered, clearly flustered as his hand shot to the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but at you, “I’m regretting it now.”
You sighed, turning back to the mirror and fiddling with the bunny ears again, your patience wearing thin. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal, just wait outside. I’ll be done in a sec—I just need to put on my shoes.”
For a moment, you thought he might actually listen. But then Geo took a step closer, his posture shifting. The embarrassment still lingered in his tense shoulders and flushed face, but there was something else now—something almost… resolute.
Before you could ask what he was doing, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, turning you around so fast you nearly stumbled.
“Geo?” you asked, startled by the sudden intensity in his gaze.
He didn’t answer. Instead, without missing a beat, he pushed you backward with a firm but careful hand, and your back hit the edge of your bed. You let out a startled gasp, barely managing to catch yourself as you propped up on your elbows.
“Hey! What the hell—”
You froze as Geo knelt in front of you, his hand gripping your ankle firmly but gently. His other hand reached out for your heels, which had been discarded nearby, and he snatched them up with a quick, fluid motion.
“You need to hurry up,” he grumbled, his voice low and laced with irritation as he slid the first heel onto your foot. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your sheer tights as he adjusted the strap. His face, however, was a different story—flushed red and rigid, like he was barely holding himself together. “So just—shut up and let me handle it.”
You blinked, your mouth opening to protest but no words coming out. Geo hadn’t spared you a glance, too focused on fastening the strap with a level of concentration that was almost comical.
“You’re—” you finally managed, but your voice wavered as his hands moved to your other foot.
“And you’re taking forever,” he shot back, not missing a beat. His grip on your ankle tightened slightly as he secured the second heel, his eyes resolutely fixed downward.
Is he blushing?
Your eyes narrowed, “You seem red there,” you teased, leaning back on your hands and watching him with a growing smirk. “What happened to all your sarcastic remarks, Mr. Smartass?”
“Shut up,” he muttered through clenched teeth, still not looking at you as he finished adjusting the second strap.
His fingers brushed against your ankle again, lingering just a second too long, and you swore you saw his ears turn even redder. Deciding to test your luck, you slowly crossed one leg over the other, making the movement deliberately graceful.
Geo’s aquamarine eyes flicked up instinctively at the shift in movement, and when he realized what he’d done, he snapped his gaze away so fast it was almost whiplash-inducing.
“Stop doing that,” he muttered, his voice lower now.
“Doing what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you tilted your head and batted your lashes at him.
“You know what,” Geo shot back, his jaw tightening as he focused way too hard on the buckle of your heel, his fingers fumbling slightly.
“Aw, is Geo embarrassed?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful mockery as you leaned forward slightly, one of your legs crossing just enough to invade his space. The toe of your heel pressed lightly against his chest, and you tilted your head, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t think you’d get so flustered over a little outfit.”
Geo, ever the picture of calm composure, froze mid-motion. His hands, which had been casually adjusting the cuffs of his jacket a moment ago, were now completely still. For a second, it was like time itself had paused. Slowly—deliberately—his gaze lifted, locking with yours.
Fuck.
His aquamarine eyes, normally narrowed and calculating, were different now. They seemed darker, more intense, clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t annoyance, nor was it the usual stoic indifference he wore like armor. Whatever it was, it had you swallowing hard.
The teasing smirk on your face faltered just slightly as curiosity crept in. You tilted your head to the side, your lips parting faintly as you tried to read him, to figure out what was going on behind that icy stare. “Geo?” you prompted softly, your narrowed eyes searching his face.
Still, he didn’t look away. He couldn’t seem to.
It was unnerving—and kind of thrilling, if you were honest. Normally, a jab like that would earn you a dry, sarcastic retort, something sharp-edged that would put you right back in your place. But this time? Nothing. Whatever comeback he’d had locked and loaded vanished the second your teasing grin softened into something more uncertain.
The silence stretched, tension thickening between the two of you like a coiled spring. You couldn’t tell if it was your own heartbeat hammering in your chest or his, but the moment felt impossibly fragile.
“Seriously, say something,” you murmured, a hint of nervous laughter creeping into your tone. You pressed your foot just a little harder against his chest, trying to get any kind of reaction. “You’re starting to freak me out.”
His gaze flicked briefly to your leg—the curve of your calf, the ridiculous heel perched at the end of it—before snapping back to your face. “You shouldn’t play games you can’t win,” he said finally, his voice low and even.
Your breath caught for half a second. His hand moved, wrapping firmly around your ankle—not harshly, but with enough pressure to make your pulse skip a beat. With one smooth motion, he guided your leg away from his chest.
“You don’t get it,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, his tone a complete shift from his usual snark.
The intensity in his voice caught you off guard, and your expression faltered. “...Don’t get what?” you asked, your playful tone slipping into something more hesitant.
Geo’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as if he were trying to hold something back. He stood abruptly, the sudden motion making you flinch slightly. His eyes immediately flickered with regret at your reaction, and he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.
“Shit,” Geo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. His back was turned to you, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed his frustration. He exhaled sharply, shoulders rising and falling as though wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.
“Geo…” you started softly, the sharp edge in your tone from earlier now replaced with concern.
“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice strained and hoarse, like the words were being dragged out of him. “We’re not going to the charity event. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?” you exclaimed, still perched on the edge of the bed. “You can’t just decide that for me!”
He turned to face you, amber eyes blazing with a mix of irritation and something you couldn’t quite place. “Watch me.”
Before you could react, Geo stalked toward your desk, snatched a hoodie draped over the chair, and swung it around your shoulders with surprising precision. His hands lingered just long enough to tug it snugly over your frame, the fabric swallowing the delicate silhouette of your bunny suit.
“You’re not going anywhere in that,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He stepped back slightly, his gaze flicking over you as though ensuring his makeshift cover-up was secure. “If Crowe wants donations that badly, he can wear the damn bunny suit.”
Your jaw dropped, words caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “Geo, you’re being absolutely insane!”
“Yeah, probably,” he admitted, flashing a grin that was more sharp edges than warmth. “But at least I’m not letting you walk into a room full of idiots who won’t be able to keep their eyes—or their thoughts—off you.”
Heat crept up your cheeks at his bluntness, and you folded your arms tightly across your chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, and the tension between you grew like a palpable thing.
“You’re seriously overreacting,” you muttered, but your voice lacked its usual bite.
“Am I?” Geo shot back, stepping closer. His towering frame cast a shadow over you as his gaze locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Do you even realize how—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching as if swallowing the words was the only way to keep them from spilling out.
“Realize what?” you pressed, your own voice barely above a whisper now, caught somewhere between defiance and curiosity.
Geo’s eyes darted to the floor, then back to you, before he let out a low, frustrated growl. In one swift movement, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pushed you gently but firmly down onto the bed.
“Geo, what the hell—”
Your protest was cut short as he followed, his weight settling over you in a way that was far from aggressive but left no room for escape. His arms slipped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as his head dropped to your chest.
The world seemed to stop as you felt the warmth of his breath against your collarbone. He didn’t say a word, his face buried against you, his grip almost desperate.
You froze, your hands hovering uncertainly in the air. “Geo?” you murmured, your voice soft and unsure.
“Just… shut up for a second,” he muttered, his voice muffled against you. His tone was softer now, tinged with vulnerability that made your chest ache. “Let me have this.”
Your hands hesitated before they slowly lowered, one settling against his back, the other threading cautiously through his hair. His body tensed at first but then melted into yours, his hold tightening as if he were afraid you’d disappear.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice raw and unguarded. “And not in the way I’m used to handling.”
For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of his words—and his closeness—stealing the air from the room. Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as you let the moment stretch, the sound of his breathing steadying against you.
“Oh,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, “You’re not making any sense. We’re going to be late for the event,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone soft but firm.
“Good,” he muttered into your chest without lifting his head.
“Good?” you echoed, your brows furrowing. “Crowe’s going to kill us if we don’t show up. And you promised to drive me, remember?”
“I don’t care about Crowe or the stupid event right now,” he grumbled, his voice low and slightly muffled. “It’s not important.”
“Not important?” You leaned your head back against the bed in disbelief. “You’re acting like the world’s ending because of a bunny suit, Geo. What’s really going on?”
He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You still don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, a mix of irritation and something deeper. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you the way I am right now.”
Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in and leaving you momentarily speechless. “Geo…” you started, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish.
Instead, his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips brushed the curve of your neck. You tensed under his touch, your breath hitching as his teeth gently grazed your skin.
“Just give me five minutes,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed softly against the spot he’d just bitten, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. “Five minutes, and then I’ll get up, and we can go. Deal?”
You blinked, trying to process what just happened, your body feeling like it was on fire where his lips had been. “Geo, that’s not—”
“Five minutes,” he repeated, cutting you off. His tone was quieter this time, almost pleading as his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a vulnerability he rarely let you see. “Please.”
Wow. Five minutes it is then.
· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·
#the kid at the back x reader#the kid at the back vn#tkatb#solivan brugmansia#the kid at the back crowe#the kid at the back sol#tkatb crowe#tkatb sol#crowe ichabod#crowe x reader#sol x reader#sol brugmansia#jericho crowe ichabod#tkatb geo#geo oogami#tkatb vn
235 notes
·
View notes
Text
SNITCHES THE CAT SEQUEL pt1 and masterpost
Part Two/Part Three/ Part Four/ Part Five
Part One
“This you?”
Danny pushed the newspaper down without looking at it, revealing Sam’s shitty grin. “That lost cat is not me, no.” He rolled his eyes. They had been showing him lost pet ads ever since he got back from Gotham. “Isn’t that joke getting old, guys?” He kicked his way further into a slouch in the booth as Tucker came back with refilled drinks.
Tucker laughed, and then there was a silence. “Danny? Are you sure this isn’t you, man?” He sounded uncertain.
He felt his jaw twitch and he had to tell his friend off. “Is it that funny that there’s a sad kid out there? Honestly, guys-” Danny opened his eyes fully to roll them and then saw the lost pet ad being brandished in his face. He blinked at it. His brain did a full reboot and he reached out to take the paper.
It looked like him, sleeping on the cushion in the batcave. Had they gotten that photo from the security footage? “It’s me.” His voice came out way too high.
Danny pulled the paper over in disbelief and realized that it was a two page ad. “Oh wow,” he said faintly. There he was, leaping across the kitchen. And there, that must have been taken by Damian when he fell asleep on the bed. There was a cat toy partially in the frame.
Sam’s snorting laughter cut off. “Uh.” She kicked him lightly under the table. “Is.. Is that little kid going to be okay?” She asked in a small voice. She sounded like she felt bad for poking fun.
Danny felt guilty. He stared at the evidence that Robin was missing his cat terribly and felt like the biggest jackass possible. “Should I go back?” he wondered. He squirmed, pulling a foot up onto the bench to perch on. “I mean… How long does a cat live? A few years?”
“Try about twenty,” Tucker said flatly. “I feel bad too, man, but you can’t defer admission that long.”
“Though Snitches was clearly not a little kitten, so you could really just give it a couple years,” Sam mused. Both boys stared at her. She blinked. “Not that I’m suggesting you do that!” She waved her hands at them. “The longer you stay with him, the harder he’s going to take it when his pet ‘dies’,” she said with finger quotes. “You did the right thing by leaving as soon as you could.”
“Maybe we could answer it, do a photoshoot, tell him that Danny was your cat or something and he’s come home,” Tucker mused. “He’d be sad that he couldn’t have the cat, but surely it would be better than worrying the cat died, right?”
“What are you losers talking about?” Star said, giving their booth a wide berth. “You’re not hurting cats now, are you, weirdos?” She eyed them like they were gross. “It would figure.”
“Fuck off,” Sam said pleasantly. All three of them gave Star a rude gesture in unison, just like they had practiced. “That shit’s uncalled for.”
Star sniffled and turned away on her heel, cheer skirt flouncing behind her. A few moments later she clearly reached her table because the sounds of popular kid conversation got a lot louder.
“She should be a reporter,” Sam said darkly. “I would love for her to get sued for slander.” She snapped open her clutch and began applying even more black eyeliner, as if that would differentiate her from the other girls in the restaurant.
Tucker groaned and pulled his hat down over his eyes in despair. “That’s gonna be a bad rumor,” he complained.
Danny couldn’t find it in him to care as much as he usually would. He was still stuck on the fact that Damian had put an ad in the Illinois Times. “Do you think he realized that Snitches got on a highway bus to Illinois?” he hissed, now aware that other people might be listening in. “How would he know that?”
Sam frowned. Tucker lifted his head and pulled out his phone to search. “That’s a good question,” he said to himself. He hit buttons rapidly. “Uh, same ad is in…” He trailed off. “Hold up, hold up, lemme search this backwards…” Whatever he saw had him raise his eyebrows high, look at Danny in disbelief, and then shake his head slightly. “You must be a really good cat. I'm kind of jealous.”
“What?” Danny hissed. “Just tell me.”
“Hey, hey, paws off.” Tucker moved his device further away. “Uh, this poor kid- well.” He paused. “Poor is the wrong word. He’s put ads in newspapers all the way up to Ontario and down to… Well, in Mexico at least.”
Danny and Sam stared at him in disbelief. “You’re fucking with us,” Sam said after a long moment.
Tucker silently shook his head. “There’s a nationwide Greg’s list ad,” he said grimly. “20 dollars an hour to print and staple missing cat photos to telephone poles. And a private detective’s agency on the case, asking for witnesses to come forward.”
Danny put his head in his hands. “I have to go back,” he said, haunted by the responsibility. “I can’t let him be this sad.”
“Danny, no.” Tucker said. Sam nodded her agreement.
“…Yeah, that’s crazy,” he said unconvincingly. He gave a fake laugh. “He’ll get over it.” Danny stared into his drink, watching bubbles. Robin was not going to get over it. That kid loved hard.
“I could use 20 dollars an hour,” Tucker said in a thoughtful tone.
“No,” Sam said flatly.
Tucker shrugged, smiling slightly. “I wonder how much I’d get for bringing you back.” He shrugged theatrically. “You could send me to college, man! Don’t you want me to go to college?”
“No…” Danny said weakly. “I… Is that fraud?” Still. Money would be nice.
“Guys, no.” Sam knocked them both in the head with the pile of napkins. “You can’t do that to this little kid. He’s clearly not well.”
“Exactly,” Tucker argued passionately. “Imagine how happy he would be to get his cat back! We could reunite him with his pet!”
It was tempting. He felt, like, so bad about how sad Robin was. The little guy had been so proud of his pet. Danny could spare a few years to make a little kid happy, right? It was kind of greedy otherwise.
Danny stared at the bubbles in his drink again, really thinking it over. “I think I would have to fight crime with him,” he said dully. “That’s a minus.”
“Danny?” Sam rapped the table with her fingers. He looked up to see her pointed eyebrow raise. “What are you talking about?”
He hunched his shoulders up. “Nothing, nothing,” he lied hastily. He forgot they didn’t know. He couldn’t dox someone’s crime fighting identity, though, it would be really unfair.
“You could buy me a house,” Tucker wheedled. Sam hit him.
288 notes
·
View notes
Text
──˚₊•Sugar Plum•‧₊˚──
Word Count: 2.3k
Synopsis: After years of competing for the title of Star Senior at Piltover Springs Dance School, the hatred that Violet Lanes and Y/n Y/l/n have garnered for each other is rendered a waste when in a turn of events, they are both awarded the distinction. When this forces them to confront what feelings they have for each other outside of unbridled loathing, they find that the line between hatred and lust is much finer than they thought...
Continuation of this headcanon (can be read alone, though; you'll just miss out on some context)
Content/Warnings: nsfw, smut!, top! vi, bottom! reader, low-key softdom! vi, lowkey subby! reader, reader has female anatomy, reader referred to with feminine terms/pet names (princess, good girl, etc.), pussy eating (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, mirror sexxxx, lots of consent checks bc vi you are so sweetie, can't not think of Wicked when i hear the phrase "unadulterated loathing" so i am sorry if you are in the same boat
A/N: okay guys... here it is teehee. thank you SO much for all of the love on my dancer! vi x dancer! r headcanon; I honestly did not expect it! i really really enjoyed writing for this little plotline and I'm glad you guys enjoyed it, too; and i hope this scene brings it justice... enjoy! mwah ha ha
Love, Bee ୨ৎ
You’re not quite sure how seven years of pure, unadulterated loathing between you and Violet Lanes had led to this; Vi, with a knee slotted in between your legs, hands splayed across your torso as she kissed you, and you, pinned between her body and the ballet bar behind you, whimpering into her mouth as you rode her thigh…
The two of you were staying late at the dance studio to see if you could finally manage to perfect the lift in your duet that had been kicking your ass, and somewhere along the way, you’d found out just how fine the line between hatred and lust could be.
What possessed you to step- no, leap- over said line, you didn’t know, but you resigned to mulling over that later, when your sworn enemy wasn’t pulling at the hair on the nape of your neck.
Her tongue traces the line of your throat before she latches on; it isn’t long before she gets carried away and you let out a hiss at the pinch of her teeth on your pulse.
Her movements come to a halt. “Shit,” she’d exhale, “Sorry, didn’t mean to-”
“Keep going.”
She raises a brow, rearing her head back to look at you.“Yeah? I'm gonna leave a mark if I do.”
“I don’t care what you do, just want you to keep going.”
Who is she to deny such a sweet request?
She resumes her attack on the sensitive skin until the mark on your neck is to her liking. She pulls back to assess her handiwork, and you can’t help but chuckle at her concentration through your haze.
“Seriously? I think you're good, Vi.”
“Just makin’ sure,” she’d say with a lop-sided grin.
You shoot her a grin of your own. “Don’t worry; I know you don’t like to share.”
“No,” she begins before leaning in, her smile barely brushing your own, “I don’t.”
Your lips would meet again, tongues moving slow and languid against each other as she rocks into you just the same. The contact- however delicious- isn’t quite enough, and it’s starting to drive you crazy. Your breath is getting heavier, your whines more shameless, and you’ve started meeting each rock of her leg with the rock of your hips. You’re chasing more- you need more- and Vi can tell.
She’s not going to make it easy for you, of course.
She plants the heel of her foot back on the ground, separating her knee from the heat between your thighs.
“Wh-what?” You plead breathlessly, “Why’d you stop?”
“You sure you can handle this, sweetheart? You’re falling apart and I’m not even inside you yet.”
Your eyes shoot up to meet hers, wild and desperate.
“What,” she’d ask, cocking her head to the side, “Is that what you want? You want me inside?”
You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, please, that’s what I want.”
You swear you can see her pupils blow out. You were begging for her. You’d been icing her out for the past seven years, and now, here you were, begging for her.
If this was a dream… then she was sure she’d wake up soon, and she wanted to taste you first.
“Can you hold out for just a little longer?”
Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I mean, yeah… why?”
And then, Violet Lanes is on her knees in front of you.
“Oh. That's why.” Your smile is bashful as you look down at her, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Can I?” She peers up at you, hands toying with the waistband of your sweatpants.
“Fuck yes, you can.”
A satisfied smirk spreads across her face, and she tugs the sweatpants down to your ankles, leaving you to step out of the rest of the pooled material.
“Alright, baby; toss your leg up,” she commands, guiding your leg over her shoulder with a hand behind your thigh. Your hands grip the ballet bar behind you, and you hope to God you’ll be able to hold yourself up through the feeling of her mouth on you.
“You good? Holding on tight?”
“Yeah, yeah; I’m good.”
She nods from below you with a smile, and her hand comes trailing up the calf swung over her shoulder to the plush of your thigh seated next to her head. She’s got an arm wrapped around your other leg, securing you in place.
Your breath begins to stutter as she places open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh, your body twitching and tensing in anticipation each time she grows closer to where you need her.
“Relax,” she purrs, thumb rubbing circles into the meaty flesh beside her.
You nod, closing your eyes and leaning your head back with a sigh; and when she finally places a kiss on the patch of wetness soaking through your underwear, you fucking melt.
“Good girl,” she draws out, feeling your weight press into her fully. “You still good with this?”
“Violet, I’m gonna lose my mind if your mouth isn’t on me in-”
You yelp as she pulls your underwear to the side to lick a stripe up from the nectar pooling at your entrance to the hardened pearl above it.
“Not sure you’re in any position to make demands here, sugar plum.”
Your eyes roll back into your head when she attaches her lips to your clit, and when she sucks, your hand shoots down to grab at the hair on her crown.
She moans into you- noted- and her tongue darts back down to lap at your wetness, trailing up, then down, then up, then down, collecting as much as she can on the tip of her warm tongue.
“Fuck, princess; you taste so fucking good.”
She barely lets herself finish her sentence- words muffled in your pussy- before she’s back on your clit, swirling her tongue in circles around the swollen bud.
The grip you have on her hair is tighter now, your thighs trembling, your features knit together in pleasure; you look down to find Vi so lost in between your legs that you don’t even think she notices how close you are.
You loosen your grip on her hair to tap rapidly on her shoulder. “V-Vi, baby,”
As pussy drunk as she is, her head still snaps up at the sound of the pet name on your tongue. Her lips are swollen and glossy with your slick, her cheeks flushed red as the hair on her head.
“What’s up, princess?”
“J-just… gonna cum soon,” you pant, “want you inside first…”
“Yeah?” she smirks, gently guiding your leg off of her shoulder. She stands up, hand gripping your waist as she leans to press a sloppy kiss on your lips; and fuck, you can taste yourself on her mouth.
“Wanna cum on my fingers?” She asks in between kisses; and you nod against her mouth, hand on the back of her head pulling her impossibly close.
She chuckles into your mouth before pulling away to drink in your features; your pleading eyes, your soft lips, the rapid rise and fall of your chest.
“You’re beautiful.”
There was that look: so soft. So soft that you could hardly stand it, your head lowering in order to escape it.
“Oh? You’re shy now?”
You giggle- and she wonders if that sound had always been so sweet- before pushing at her chest.
“Shut up. I'm not shy.”
“Oh, yeah?” The raise of her brow and the cockiness of her voice says she’s got something planned.
“Turn around for me, then.”
“I-I… what? I’m-”
“Turn. Around.”
Her grip on your waist tightens, and she’s twisting your hips until suddenly, you’re face-to-face with your own reflection.
“There’s my pretty girl,” she lulls, head dropping down to plant a kiss on your shoulder. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Y-yeah… yeah,” you breathe out. You’re watching yourself come undone for her.
“Look at me.”
You’re a little embarrassed at how quickly you obey.
“You look away, and I stop, yeah?”
You whine. “Vi, really? Just-”
For a moment, the intensity of her gaze disappears, as if she’s dropped whatever persona she’d been assuming; as if she was making herself smaller for you
“If you don’t like this, just let me know. Don’t want you uncomfortable or all in your head, yeah?”
You quirk a smile at her consideration. “No… I like it. I trust you.”
She smirks at you. “Just being a brat, then?”
Your eye roll answers that question.
“Just being a brat. Got it. Eyes on me then, baby.”
And then, she’s pulling your- now soaked- underwear down to your thighs, reaching down to glide her middle and ring fingers through your slick, and your eyes flutter shut, and you’ve already broken the one rule she gave you.
“Y/n,” she scolds, her fingers halting.
Your eyes fly open to find her again, and you’re muttering out a desperate apology, rocking back on her fingers, seeking any sensation you can get.
Her free arm comes around to circle your waist, holding you in place so that you can’t chase your release on your own. “I gave you one rule, sweetheart. Keep those pretty eyes on me and I promise I’ll make you cum.”
You nod frantically, eyes never leaving her own, even as she brings her fingers up to rub your own wetness into your clit; even as those fingers sink into you from behind, three knuckles deep.
“Jesus fuck,” she curses, “fuckin’ swallowing me.”
Your thighs are already shaking, your walls fluttering around her fingers as they adjust to the new fullness.
“Gonna move now, okay?” she warns before pressing a kiss to your temple.
“Yes,” you nod, “yes- fuck!”
You call out as her hand flips over, fingers rotating inside you to press into the ridges of nerves on your front wall.
“That didn’t take long to find…” she muses.
“Fuck you,” you scoff to the best of your ability- although it doesn’t really pack a punch when you look so blissed out- and Vi laughs at you.
She fucking laughs, and you remember for a moment what makes her so damn annoying; but then, she’s pistoning into you, and your mind goes blank.
You feel high off of her fingers, limbs tingling and head fuzzy, completely out of control of whatever sounds are coming out of your mouth. You can vaguely hear “fuck, yes,” and “shit, shit, shit,” and “please, Vi, please” in your own voice. You can vaguely hear the obscene sounds of her fingers moving in and out of your slick, which is, no doubt, dripping down your thighs by now. You can vaguely make out her focused expression through the stars you’re seeing.
When she brings her mouth to the shell of your ear to speak to you, though, it’s her voice that brings you back down to earth. “You with me, sweet girl? Focused on me?”
If you focus any harder on her fingers slipping in and out of you, or on the way her breath picks up in your ear, or on the furrow of her own brow, you’ll cum.
Wait… shit, you're about to cum.
“Vi,” you call out, eyes widening, “I’m gonna- I’m so close- fuck, please.”
In a second, the arm around your waist is unraveling, and she reaches down to rub tight circles onto your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge.
You can’t fucking help it; your eyes roll back, head falling back onto her shoulder, breaking the one rule she gave you.
“Sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry, I can’t-”
You’re near tears as her hands continue their ministrations. “ ‘S alright baby,” she coos, “You’re doing so fucking good, just want you to cum for me.”
And with a guttural noise you’ve never heard yourself make, you’re doing just that; spasming on her fingers, legs shaking underneath you, knuckles white as they grip the ballet bar you’re practically doubled over.
Vi works you through your orgasm until your hand is shooting down in between your legs, shooing her own away. “Shit, that’s enough… ‘m all done.”
She’s careful pulling out, taking the two digits into her own mouth before pulling your underwear back up in place. Her hands return to your hips, turning your body back towards her. You still haven’t opened your eyes; still trying to catch your breath.
“Hey,” she speaks softly, pulling you in, “You okay?”
When you open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you like she adores you. It’s so tender, so gentle; so much so that in the come down off the high you’d just experienced, you start to tear up.
“I’m sorry,” you begin with a sniffle, “for being such an asshole all this time.”
“Woah, woah, woah- first of all, so was I; but more importantly, you’re fucked out right now. Just worry about catching your breath for a few minutes, okay love?”
You give her a weak chuckle as she pulls away to gather your previously discarded bottoms. She leans down in front of you, guiding your legs as she directs you to put “one foot in… okay, now the other,” before pulling them up to their place on your hips.
You thank her with a smile, and she waves you off in response.
“Do you, uh…” she’s nervously rubbing the back of her neck as if she weren’t just demanding that you keep your eyes on her while she plowed you, “do you think you’d wanna come back to my place? Powder’s over at Ekko’s and my Dad has game nights with his friends every Wednesday, so it’ll just be us. We can just chill, watch a movie or something, order food if you want. Just… don’t wanna ditch you or anything, wanna make sure you’re all good after-”
“That sounds perfect, Violet.”
──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──
You’re not quite sure how seven years of pure, unadulterated loathing between you and Violet Lanes had led to this; a sleepover at her house, watching shitty action movies together, splitting a pizza, and falling asleep on the couch with your limbs tangled together.
But here you were. And it really was perfect; and everyone knows that you don’t settle for less than perfect.
End ୨ৎ
Taglist: @spidercat-soccerfan, @lipglosskxsses, @baylegend6
#vi x reader#vi x you#vi x y/n#vi smut#vi x reader smut#violet x reader#violet x you#violet x y/n#violet smut#lesbian#wlw#sapphic#violet arcane#vi arcane#vi arcane smut#arcane#arcane smut#vi imagine#violet imagine#arcane imagine
339 notes
·
View notes
Text
GET FREE
SAM WINCHESTER X DOE!READER
WARNINGS: meg!sam angst, hurt/comfort, smut (MDNI), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), grinding
SUMMARY: after the shock of meg taking over sam’s body, he yearns to show you how much he cares for you.
WC: 1.4k
the air in the room is tense, a strong mist that takes over both yours and sam’s senses. the events from earlier were still fresh in your mind, and you honestly didn’t know how to feel.
it wasn’t sam, you kept telling yourself, a mantra playing over and over in your skull. he’s a good man, he was possessed.
but his mean eyes, the way he gripped onto your hair so tightly while he thrusted the knife against your throat. it was all so visceral, a feeling you never thought you’d experience from sam. his usual kind, gentle loving self had gone completely awry. the demonic entity you knew as meg taking over his being and making him cruel.
even now, as he sat beside you on the bed in one of bobby’s guest rooms, you could feel that distance that you oh so desperately wanted to have from him. you loved him, you really did, but after what just happened, you didn’t know how long it would take before you could be around him.
though sam was a determined man when it came to his girl, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that you knew he wasn’t going to treat you like that ever again; that he would never treat you like that under his own management.
“baby,” he murmured, fingers dusting against your shoulder as he tested out if you wanted to be touched or not. “look at me, please.”
slowly, you turn your head towards his stare, looking into the sorrow filled eyes of the man you loved. he was so broken, so upset with how everything had gone. but mostly, he was angry. angry that meg made you feel scared of him. angry that because of a demon, he needed to remind his girlfriend about the love he harboured for her in his dna.
a sniffle could be heard from where you sat, a lone tear falling down your cheek. “i’m sorry sam” you choked out, feeling his hand tighten on your shoulder.
“why are you sorry?” he demands softly, bringing his hands to cradle your face. “i should be sorry. i allowed her in, allowed her to treat you like that.”
all you could muster was a small shake of your head, gripping sam’s wrists weakly. “i’m sorry because i’m making you feel like this is your fault.” your words came out blubbery, tears mixing in with your flushed cheeks. “it’s not, sam. none of this was your doing. i’m just shaken is all, i swear.”
“you’ve done no such thing.” me murmured, leaning forward and leaving a lingering kiss on your forehead. his mouth went on to travel to the slopes of your nose, leaving light, delicate kisses wherever he could reach. those kisses than moved to your cheeks, touches like feathers brushing against your smile lines. it wasn’t until he smashed his lips against yours that you felt the unbridled passion, the longing for you to feel okay after the torment you endured at his hands.
sam’s body moved so he was kneeling on the floor at your feet, hands clutching yours shaking as he peppered kiss after kiss to your knuckles and palms.
“i’m sorry,” he breathed, head lifting up with a watery puppy dog look. your hands had threaded in his hair, holding his head in place as you caressed his scalp. “please sweet girl, let me show you how sorry i am.”
no verbal response came from your lips, a shy smirk coming in it’s wake. your hands cradling sam’s face moved to his chest, lightly pushing him back until he leaned onto his palms, legs spread wide and lap oh so inviting.
tentatively, you slipped your hands to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and revealing your lace bra. sam didn’t speak, he just watched, mouth agape, as you unclipped the material, your breasts fully on display to his eyes. you then moved to your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs and throwing them somewhere in the room. the baby pink panties you wore had sam groaning, his hands grappling at your calves and begging you to join him on the floor.
the tap of your finger on sam’s shoulder indicated you wanted his shirt to go. with quick fingers, sam’s shirt was flying in the same direction as your pants, looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes.
you couldn’t bare to see him pout any longer; as pretty as he looked, so with wobbly knees, you lowered yourself from the edge of the bed, resting yourself into sam’s lap.
in an instant, sam’s hands were on you. one arm around your waist while the other found purchase nestled deeply in your hair. soft fabric of your panties rubbed against the hard material of sam’s jeans, allowing a slight groan to ripple from your lips.
“that’s it baby,” he groaned in your ear, using his arm around your waist to help you rub slightly against the bulge in his jeans. “get yourself all worked up and ready for me. need you all wet and needy for my cock.” a moan rippled through your lips at his words, and you couldn’t help but grind against him faster as your deft fingers worked quickly on the button and zipper of his pants.
with some help from sam, you both pulled his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs until his dick sprang free. the look of him barred to you had your mouth watering, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth from the sight of his angry red tip resting close to your covered folds.
the wet patch near your cunt had a soft chuckle leaving sam’s lips, his fingers moving from your hair to move your panties to the side. “already so wet for me, pretty girl.” he cooed, rubbing his dick through your slick. “so wet, so needy.”
your fingers dug deeply into sam’s shoulders as he lined himself up with your entrance, holding your waist and helping you slowly sink down onto his dick. you both let out a conjoined groan at the feeling, small whimpers leaving your lips as sam bottomed out, his girth spreading you open so deliciously.
“fuck, you’re so tight.” sam groaned in your ear, holding your hips tighter as you breathed heavily into the crook of his neck. “move whenever you’re ready, darling girl. i want you to use me, use my dick to make yourself come.”
his words elicited a groan from your parted lips, encouraging you to use the leverage you had on his shoulders to lift yourself up and slowly sink back down on his cock. the slight burn was dizzying, a deep moan rumbling from your chest as sam panted into your shoulder.
the constant push and pull movements had you seeing stars, loud whimpers leaving your lips every time yours and sam’s pelvis’ would collide. the man stayed true to his words, and allowed you to use him in any sense possible. all sam did was breath heavily and groan into your shoulder, deep rumbled of ‘i love you’s’ leaving his lips as he left soft kisses on your collarbone.
digging your fingers into his shoulder blades, angry red crescent shapes from your nails rose onto sam’s skin with each bounce you made on his dick. the air was lucid, and sam used the hand he had nestled in your hair to move your face to his, planing a sloppy kiss on your open, panting mouth.
“i love you so much,” he groaned, the feeling of your orgasm approaching eliciting you to move faster. “come for me baby. cmon, milk my cock.”
his words had you stilling, sam’s tip kissing your cervix as you came all around his dick. the feeling of your come soaking him had a loud groan leaving sam’s lips, his head slumping against your chest as he came himself.
loud pants could be heard throughout the room as you and sam came down from your highs. the man in question finding no need to pull out of your soaked walls as he laid himself down on the floor, grabbing your body so you could rest on top of him.
“i would never hurt you,” he whispered in your ear, stroking your hair as you felt the clutches of sleep cling to your senses. “i was born to make you feel like this, make you feel good and loved down to my last breath.”
TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @haunteres @figthoughts @foolinthera1n @deanangel @whisperingdaze @misatxox
NAT BABBLES: sam smut?? oh we’re so up (everyone thank my sweetie pie cass!!)
#ultravi0lence14#sam winchester x doe!reader#meg!sam#supernatural#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester smut#sam winchester imagine#supernatural x reader#sam winchester x you
210 notes
·
View notes
Text
William could sense that Sebastian was trying to gently touch upon this subject, to test his reactions. He was still speaking vaguely, not saying directly that he worried about his looks changing, but it was clear that he wanted to see what would be William’s reaction to this. And honestly? William really already knew all that. He had read the various pamphlets from doctor Chalman, and he also did some research online. He knew about all possible side-effects of chemo: weaker immune system, nausea, weight loss, hair loss, moodswings, even personality changes. But Sebastian’s life was at stake.
“I know, honey… I know…” William whispered, pressing a kiss to Sebastian’s temple. “I read about it too. And I know that it’s very scary… but we will go through this, yeah? Nothing is as important as you getting healthy, you living… living with me. We have so many plans… making our relationship public… getting married one day… I wanted to take you for a trip to Italy, show you Rome… you need to live so we can do all this.” he said, speaking in a soft, soothing whisper. He was trying to somehow signal, somehow make Sebastian understand that he won’t leave him, no matter what.
But he knew that Sebastian was really scared, really worried, and perhaps it wasn’t so easy for him to just believe. After all, William was speaking about something that was yet to happen. And William himself had to admit that he didn’t fully know what to expect. He knew the theory, but facing it in reality will surely be different, more difficult. But he knew one thing - he loved Sebastian very much, and his feelings weren’t just shallow or superficial.
For I have sinned...
The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes.
William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times.
“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?”
William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.
“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”
“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…
***
Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?
So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.
After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.
The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them.
He was in for a bit surprise.
@crazyvik97
15K notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: Wash Day
Rating: General Audiences
Warning: none
Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader
Fandom: Women's basketball
Summary: Letting Paige help you with your hair.... call in reinforcement.... right now
Tag: @starlighttsv
It was wash day, and I was already regretting not starting earlier. The coils of my hair were stretched and dry, practically begging for some love. As I sat cross-legged on the floor of Paige’s dorm, surrounded by products—conditioners, leave-ins, oils, and detangling brushes—I sighed. Paige stood above me, hands on her hips, looking at the scene with mild panic.
“Babe,” Paige started, crouching down to my level. “I love you, but I don’t think I’m qualified for this.”
I gave her a tired smile. “You said you wanted to help.”
“I did! I do!” she quickly corrected. “But this… this looks like a full-time job. Are you sure I can’t call in backup?”
I rolled my eyes, pulling the spray bottle closer. “I’ve got it. Just—pass me the wide-tooth comb.”
Paige did as I asked but couldn’t resist adding, “If things go south, I’m calling Kayla. Or Azzi. Maybe even Ice. Someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
“I’m right here, you know,” I teased, spraying water onto a section of my hair.
---
Twenty minutes in, Paige had convinced me to let her detangle a section. Big mistake.
“Okay, so… I just start at the ends, right?”
“Yes, *gently*,” I reminded her, wincing as she yanked a little too hard.
“Sorry! Sorry! This stuff is like a jungle!”
I smacked her arm playfully. “It’s not *stuff,* it’s my hair. And you’re supposed to be helping, not clowning.”
She grinned sheepishly, then held up her phone. “Alright, I’m calling Kayla.”
“Paige, no—”
“Too late!” she interrupted, already FaceTiming her.
Kayla’s face popped up on the screen, and she immediately burst into laughter. “Oh my God, what is happening over there?”
“I tried to help with wash day,” Paige admitted, flipping the camera to show the mess surrounding us. “And I think I’m failing.”
Kayla shook her head, laughing. “Yeah, no. I’m coming over. You need professional help.”
“Bring snacks!” Paige added.
---
About fifteen minutes later, Kayla showed up with not just snacks but KK and Azzi in tow. Ice and Aubrey were close behind, and it was clear they had *all* come to clown Paige.
KK was the loudest, pulling out her phone the moment she walked in. “Y’all, look at this!” she said, going live on Instagram. “Paige tried to help her girlfriend with wash day and almost ruined the whole operation!”
“KK, stop!” Paige yelled, trying to grab the phone.
“Too late,” KK said, laughing as the comments rolled in.
Azzi sat beside me on the floor, inspecting my hair with an approving nod. “You’re doing great, by the way. Paige, not so much.”
“Azzi!” Paige groaned, while Kayla pushed her to the side and got to work.
---
With Kayla leading the charge, the atmosphere turned into a mini hair care seminar. Azzi and Kayla worked on sectioning and detangling, while Ice handed them products like she was the hairdresser’s assistant. Aubrey and KK were still making jokes in the background, much to Paige’s frustration.
“See, you have to take smaller sections,” Kayla explained, showing Paige how to work through my coils without yanking.
Paige nodded solemnly. “Smaller sections. Got it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at how seriously she was taking the lesson now. “You’re really invested in this, huh?”
“Of course I am,” she said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “If I’m going to help you, I want to do it right.”
KK made a gagging noise from the corner. “Y’all are so soft, it’s disgusting.”
“Hush, KK,” Kayla said, throwing a hair tie at her.
---
By the time we were done, my hair was clean, detangled, and styled in chunky twists. I felt lighter, and the soreness in my scalp was worth it. Paige sat beside me, looking proud of herself despite not doing much.
“So, how’d I do?” she asked, grinning.
“Honestly?” I teased. “You’re better as moral support.”
“Rude,” she replied, pulling me into her lap. “But fair.”
“Next time,” Kayla said, packing up the hair products, “just call me first. It’ll save everyone some time.”
“Noted,” Paige said, stealing one of the snacks Kayla had brought.
---
Later that night, as Paige and I cuddled on the couch, she played with one of the twists in my hair.
“I really do want to learn, you know,” she said softly.
I looked up at her, my heart melting. “I know. And I appreciate it.”
“Even if KK clowns me for the rest of my life?”
“Especially then,” I replied, kissing her cheek.
She smiled, pulling me closer. “Good. Because I’m not giving up.”
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶
-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️
#gabi writes#support the writers!#gabi answers#paige bueckers#uconn wbb#oneshot#°~prettygirlgabi ask~°#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#azzi fudd#ice brady#kk arnold#aubrey griffin#kayla williams#paige bueckers uconn#uconn x reader#uconn#wbb x reader#ncaa wbb#wbb#pb5#paige bueckers x reader#paige x reader
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ignored | Salesman x Wife!Reader
Summary: He knows his work can take much of his time. But the worse punishment its being ignored by you.
Warnings: Possessive!Salesman - Angry!Salesman - Violent!Salesman - Sad!Salesman - Manipulation - Toxic!Relationship - Suggestive - Grammar mistakes -
It was true. He had started to leave earlier and came home late. He was tensed, tired and angry. Everytime he had to face these excuse of humans made his blood boild.
But he was good, too good at it. And the money he got from it was a big amount. Enough to give you, his dear wife the life you have always deserve.
Splendind nights out, visists to the most precious places, fashion clothes and precious little details (expensive ones). He loved to pampper you in them. He could not help himself but pull his card out the moment he saw you looking at something. It was a reflex, even when you tell him that its not necesary he still insists.
If you want a private Island then he would do his job three times or even more times better.
You ask and he does. Thats how it works. The only thing he expects from you its to be at home when he comes. To get him with a delicious dinner, your soft voice making the stress go away. You would make him lay down on your lap as you play with his hair and tell him sweet nothings. Its almost unfair how much of a effect you have on him.
However, this past days these things have not been happening. Did food wait for him when he returned ? Yes. Where you there with open arms to ease him ? No.
It had started slow, you giving him simple responses when he talked to you. Mornings when you would say you were too tired leaving him to not really enjoy the shower missing your body against his. Not responding his messages or calls (He almost killed the next person he had to recruit when your voice email sounded back).
And at home you would give him the cold shoulder. Your attention on a book (that he got you and now he wants to burn) or your phone (that he hacks and sees what you are doing).
Honestly he is started to get tired of this. He has lots of patience with you. He loves you, in a insane way. But he cant help but feel...bad. The feeling makes him want to vomit because how the object of his love and adoration, the one he crafted and made a live with just...ignores him?
Yes he knows he can be difficult at times. He tries his best so you only see his good part. But this is ridiculous, no one would dare to disrespect him like that.
There is a centrain charm on your way of going against him. But he does not like it. He prefers the doting wife. The one who showers with love and affection. Not...this.
"We need to talk" Are his words on friday night after a long day recruiting and a cold and lonely shower.
He is quiet angry.
"Im reading" You said back not bothering to look up from your book.
Alright, now he is pissed.
He takes some steps towards you, his taller frame casting a shadow over you as he takes the book from you rather harshly.
"We need to talk, and we will" He says in a cold tone, making sure to mark the page you were reading before taking your arm and pulling you towards the bedroom.
The light blue walls and the big bed welcomes you as he throws you on the bed. Under other circunstances this would mean a good time, but with the look he is giving you right now, its not. Its a look you have never seen before, a look that sends shivers down your spine as he closes the door with a click and starts to walk around. Arms crossed as he fakes to think.
"What?" You ask seeing him go to the wardrobe and for the safebox pulling out a smaller box. He pulled out a syringe and a bottle with some transparent liquid.
"Dear...you are scaring me"
"Scaring you?" He asked with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "My Love, you should never be scared of me. I just want to talk" He did answer once more getting closer to her syringe in hand.
"Then for what is that-"
"Because I need to understand Love. I need to understand whats going on with you" He says anger in his tone. "You have been ignoring me for the past few weeks. Me, the Man of your life. Who gives your the world and does everytning so you dont have to lift a single finger"
One hand traces your face doing down to your neck giving it a grip.
"I work so hard, for you. I just ask for you attention. But you cant even give me that" He says pushing you down on the bed the syringe now close to your neck.
"Is there someone else ? Have you lost your love for me ? Im not enough now ?" He ask the syringe inches from your skin.
"N-no, please let me explain" You said tears falling
He does not move but gives a small nod so you can talk
"I...I was stupid. I started to feel like your work was more important. You have always be with me. You make time for me and we pass our days together. And then you...you start to leave earlier and be home late. You...you look different every time you get back. I thought..that if I did not give you my attention you would stop. But I never saw how much I was hurting you"
He does not move for a few seconds letting the words sink in. Then he leaves the syringe on the nightstand. He cleans off your tears kissing them.
"Oh my dear sweet wife. How could you be so dumb? My work would never be more important than you" He makes you sit on his lap as he moves you like a small creature.
"I have been under so much stress...and so much work. Im sorry I should have tell you. Last thing i wanted was to get ignored by you and hurt you. Not that I would ever do it"
Well, if you were seeing another men or women then yes. He would hurt you so much. You would be calling his name and only his. Never daring to think on going behind his back.
Much like right now. He is sure you would never ever again ignore him. Not after that scared he gave you. He still feels you trembling in his arms and its almost arousing to him.
Fear. Such a primal feeling. He loved being the one behind it. The face that was associated with the word.
"Shh my love. Its ok, we are ok. You wont ignore me again and now you know there is nothing more important than you" He whispers biting your ear.
"That syringe..."
He laughts, a well faked one.
"Do you really think I would ever hurt you my Love?" Yes, yes he would. If it did mean you staying with him and obeying him. "That was a bad joke on my side. My apologizes" He gives you a big kiss on your cheeck. "Lets order some food, we can watch a movie too and call it a night"
He sees you nod but before you can move he holds you in place one finger pointing at his lips.
You kiss him, not giving him much pressure but he is not letting you go that easy. He forces his tongue inside your mouth, tangles it with yours, his hips moves making you feel him growing hard under you. One hand presses your neck guiding your face as he leaves your lips and trails kisses down your neck and collarbone.
"Im almost temped to dich food and just have you" His tone is dark, possessive as he kisses you once more. "But I know you must be starving so we can save that for later"
You wont ever know that syringe did have a powerfull sleep drug...to make you unable to escape him if that was your plan.
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
How He feels. VS. How He acts.
#squid game imagines#squid game x y/n#suicide squad imagine#squid game x reader#squid game x you#salesman x reader#recruiter x reader
148 notes
·
View notes
Text
All of this. I understand that there are some Remus stans who genuinely like his canon character, but most of them love him because they've forgotten that ATYD Remus and Canon Remus are literally not the same person. Different backstories, different experiences, even different personalities. Remus in the books was honestly not that great. Yeah, he did a lot of wonderful stuff-- especially helping Harry fight off the dementors-- but in general, all of it is magnified to be more than it actually was. Remember how it was Harry who had to insist that Lupin should teach him? It's obvious from canon how incredibly close he was with his friends-- the Mauraders-- but admit it, he really didn't put in that much effort with Harry, despite Harry being his literal best friend's son (especially if you compare it to how hard Sirius tried). I'm not saying that he put no effort, just not as much as expected from someone who was one of Harry's dad's best friends. I personally don't dislike him, so to speak, but I don't really like him either. Sorta neutral about him, ig. P.S. since the original post was exclusively about Remus and Harry's relationship, the whole 'liking Remus' thing probably sounds random as liking his character as a whole is not only tied to his relationship with Harry. I actually had another post in mind while reblogging this, which is a lovely, detailed and nuanced analysis about Lupin's canon character itself by @/padfootastic. you can read it here .
“Harry didn’t name any of his kids after Remus because he’s saving that option for Teddy!”
Wrong. Harry didn’t name any of his kids after Remus because it wasn’t personal enough.
James Sirius is named after his two fathers; Lily Luna is named after his mother and one of his and Ginny’s best friends. Albus Severus is named after two wizards who were incredibly influential for Harry’s development and safety (I have a HC on why on earth Harry decided to name his child after Dumbledore and Snape, but that’s a separate post entirely). None of his and Ginny’s kids are named after Remus, not (just) because they wished to save the name for Teddy, but because of Teddy.
Harry looks his orphaned godson in the eyes one day, a year or two after the Battle, and realises how fucked up it was that Remus, despite technically being able to, never visited him. He can’t imagine leaving Teddy all alone like that, in a family he might know doesn’t look favourably upon magic. There’s a chance that Lily may have told Remus about Petunia and Vernon and their bigotry, their hatred. And Remus, for some reason, didn’t come look.
Harry looks that little boy in the eyes and realises how weird it was that Remus didn’t admit to having been the best of friends with James Potter until late into Harry’s third year. Harry can’t fathom that, if Teddy was Ron and Hermione’s kid and both Ron and Hermione died, he’d be able to talk to the spitting image of Ron with Hermione’s eyes (but starved, intense, broken, thirteen years old and remembering his parents’ murders) and not say, “Your parents were my best friends. Let me tell you about them; let me tell you all that you want to know.”
Harry figures he’d move mountains to keep Teddy safe and happy. Harry figures that Sirius would’ve done the same, considering he mustered up the strength to break out of Azkaban after twelve years and swim to Britain to ensure Harry’s safety at the smallest sign of danger. Sirius lived in a cave and ate rats for Harry with dementors breathing down his back: Harry knows with utmost certainty that, if Sirius had had the freedom to do so, he would’ve burnt the country down for Harry.
Remus didn’t do that for him, wouldn’t have, be it for a lack of freedom or a lack of want. Remus was ‘Lupin’ to Harry even in death, even after being named godfather to his son. Harry had to convince thirty-seven year old Remus to stay with his pregnant wife at seventeen. Harry got blown into a wall for his efforts, was given the honour of becoming godfather months later. Harry liked Remus, still loves him even, but there’s nothing Harry wouldn’t do for Teddy and there was very little Remus did for Harry, and there’s that.
Later, Harry doesn’t even suggest naming a child after Remus. Ginny doesn’t even ask. None of their children are named after Remus, because Harry is a man who is quick to anger when it’s about innocents, a man whose forgiveness only goes so far. He’s never been truly bothered by his own situation, but he’s bothered by the mere idea of Teddy ending up in a similar one and him doing nothing.
Remus did nothing. That’s the crux of it. That’s why.
(After Lily Luna is born, Teddy asks if ‘Luna’ is for his dad. Harry looks at Ginny, and Ginny looks at him, and Harry does what Remus taught him: he swallows his apprehension and lies.
“Yes,” he says, raking his fingers through Teddy’s fluffy, turquoise hair. He thinks he’ll raze cities for this child. “But we saved ‘Remus’ for you.”)
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sugarplum
Husband Choi San x (F) Reader
Summary: So he loved HIS ROLLS HUH?!
Genre: Fluff
Rating: SFW
Word Count: 1 K
Est. Read Time: 5 min
Warnings: None
Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet
"IDIOTS!-"
Sitting up straight the man squinted at the dimly lit room, trying to blink away the sleep as he pushed off the soft quilts, the pads of his feet tingling at the feeling of the cold floor. A feeling he did not like but had to endure because his little sugarplum wasn't in bed with him. Well, technically you had not gone to bed with him, instead the two of you had argued about something before he retired off to bed- mind you, it was not his fault, it was the world that was against him today…or maybe he should have been more careful? There was no real defense, but he did not expect to find you at home, glaring at him as soon as he had entered the apartment, declaring his arrival on the top of his lungs.
“Oh look Byeolie, a cheater.”
“I-Excuse me?” he squeaked, staring at you standing there in the living room with your hands on your hips, wearing a messy apron, glaring at him.
“Come on Byeol, we don’t need to engage with cheaters.”
That statement had led to march into the kitchen and stared at his wife teary eyes, “W-what do you mean? Love, what’s wrong? I-I’m sure there's been a misunderstanding!” he’d never do something like that to you, especially not when he started courting you the moment your father had hired him, a college student in his first year, and you had to supervise him, even though you two were almost the same age. From the way you would help him with everything, cleaning, mopping, teaching him how to knead dough, how to use a frosting pipe, and how to make a perfect cup of coffee- he really should thank you for that more.
Though for some reason you didn’t budge, he noticed the way your expressions softened, but you said nothing and only turned around to face the scattered baking items on the counter, taking a deep breath as you mumbled, “I’ll bring you dinner.”
After a silent lonely dinner, he had gone to place his plates in the dishwasher, glancing at you for some kind of reaction but you kept avoiding him, too busy doing something else, even Byeol had decided to give him the silent treatment. He honestly couldn’t figure out what he had done? Even when he hugged you from behind, whispering, “Let’s…go to sleep.” You had slipped out of his hold and cleared your throat, “I’m not tired…you go on ahead.”
Oh…right, he had gone to bed alone too- but why weren’t you there with him?
He had thought of talking to you about it, when you were to come to bed, but he had work in the morning and he was tired, and somewhere between the ticking hours, he had fallen asleep, snuggling with your pillow.
Giving one last look at your shared bed, feeling something brew within him, he continued to walk out to the room, wanting to clear it out no matter what it was, your relationship was stronger than this, you two had gone through worse- but he knew that you were also someone who’d quiet down when you were unsure of something. Like the time he had to quit working at the bakery, simply because he was done with college and needed to pursue a job in his designated profession.
“You're….quitting?” You had mumbled, staring at the letter of resignation your father had signed to let him go with pride. You had watched him appreciate San's success, though you only stared at him blankly before going back to work, and much like now, when he had approached you, you had brushed him off, mumbling, “Bye”.
Only back then he had let you go, nodding and leaving, though over the years he had realised his mistake, the world had shaped the young boy into the same man who had barged into the bakery four years later, admiring the way how you, the new owner since your father had retired, was busy as a bee. That is until he had grabbed your hand and dragged you into the office and kissed you without question, which was stupid because as soon as he had pulled back you had giggled, “What if I said I'm married?” His world had come to a halt at that, the thought of being a homewrecker tearing at him for a good 10 minutes until you burst out laughing at his stupidity.
So, that's what he was gonna do now to, kiss it out of you, he was going to sit you down after and explain to you how if he had never met you back in the bakery, his twink era, he would probably never have found love-
“GOD, I HATE MEN!”
He peeked into the kitchen, flinching at the clang of the pot you had slammed on the counter, it was ironic how Byeol who was curled up on your cardigan that was bunched up on the bar stool, next to the one he was now sitting on, chin in palm.
You turned around and gasped, hand pressed against your heart, taking a deep breath, “I-God, you scared me- s-sorry, did I wake you up, Sannie?”
‘Sannie'- guess the anger had subsided.
Shaking his head he gave you a small pout, “Woke up cause you weren't there- are you…do you wanna tell me…what's going on?” He mumbled, staring around at the several cinnamon roll trays that were lying around the kitchen, the pan filled with the white cream sauce, some that had made its way onto Byeol's tail.
“I…nothing… its stupid.” You mumbled, as you began to clean up, trying not to look at him when he made his way to you and grabbed your hands, pulling you closer, “You signed a contract with stupidity when you married me.”
Closing your eyes at his stupid comment, you mumbled like a child, “I saw you having the Cinnamon rolls from Jung's bakery.”
“What.” He frowned, trying to hear you better, “You saw me having Wooyoung’s what?”
“HIS CINNAMON ROLLS!”
You shoved him away and pointed at the mess, “You bastard! U married me!” You pointed at yourself, “And then you have the balls to go and have his stupid rolls!? And” you picked up a roll, “His recipe is so stupid! Men are so stupid! Why is everything measured according to ‘just wing it gurl’- what does that even mean!?” He blinked at you, watching you screech like a hawk at 3 am, “That bastard! I told him I'd trade my strawberry tart recipe with him if he gave me his cinnamon roll recipe that YOU apparently love-”
The slight pressure on your lips cut you off, as you to fisted his shirt in frustration, tugging him closer until he cupped your face to create some room to take a breath- he'd have to piss you off more if that's the kind of kiss he’d get- “I…” he panted, resting his forehead against yours, “Only had them because your bakery was closed today…remember?”
“...”
“I love you, my sweet little sugarplum-”
“Shut up and help me clean, Choi.”
#cromernet#k labels#illusionnet#ateez#choi san#seonghwa#hongjoong#mingi#jongho#yeosang#yunho#wooyoung#fluff#ghostie#ateez x female reader#san x reader#choi san x female reader#choi san x y/n#choi san x you#san x you#atz scenarios#san fanfic#choi san fluff#ateez x you#ateez x reader#atz imagines#atz x reader#atz#ice on my teeth
167 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bashing Fics in the 9-1-1 Fandom
Inspired by @beforeastorm‘s very neat look at 9-1-1 bashing fics in August and in September 2024, I took another look at the numbers yesterday (23rd January 2025) and… it’s been interesting.
Methods and materials:
For that I selected the 9-1-1 (TV) tag on ao3 while logged into my account and thereby ensuring I would see both public and locked fics; beforeastorm only considered public fics so by god I hope that some of the increases can be explained by that. Then I used the Include filter function to search for [Character Name] Bashing. Where this returned nothing I employed the Search within result function to search for “[character name] bashing”, trying out variations (last or first or nickname). To double-check I also did this search for characters with established bashing tags, using the Exclude filter to ensure that I would not count any fic twice.
Some characters have a bashing tag for themselves and a couple bashing tag. For example: if you search for Margaret Buckley Bashing, you will be offered two tag: Margaret Buckley Bashing and Margaret Buckley and Phillip Buckley Bashing. As far as I could tell, searching for the individual bashing tag also always counts the couple bashing tag, so the couple bashing tags could be disregarded. A list of the characters I looked at is under the cut.
The numbers were collected in an excel file and assigned the characters categories: main (meaning main adult character), family, love interest and other. I also took note of the gender. I did some analysis in excel before having the smart idea that I might as well use this as a training exercise for R (and I am very bad at R).
Disclaimer: this will not include all bashing fics because sadly some people are not familiar with tagging or love letting people run into a fic they will not enjoy. Also while I much prefer it when people tag bashing, some are overly careful and may use bashing tags when not really needed. Still, I much prefer that to people not tagging.
Results:
Disappointing but hardly surprising at this point: the extremely dubious honour of being the most bashed character goes to Tommy Kinard with 660 bashing fics to his name. That obviously makes him the most bashed character of the love interest category, followed by Ana Flores (241) and then Taylor Kelly (118 ^^). The most bashed characters of the family category are the Buckley parents (347 and 325) followed by the Diaz parents (238 and 176), with the mothers being given more bashing fics than the fathers. In the other category, Vincent Gerrard leads with the 66 times his bashing tag was used. Chase Mackey is in third place with 26 fics, and in second place is the Firehouse 118 Crew (45) which probably could be rather counted to the main character category.
Which brings us to that category. Chimney has been bashed in 317 fics, making him the most bashed main character. Followed by Maddie with 223 fics and Bobby with 163. Out of all the main adult characters, Buck is the only one without an established bashing tag. There are 7 fics out there that you can find if you employ a variation of queries with his name + bashing; that is if I have made no mistake. Because honestly? Finding Buck bashing fics is hard. Athena and Buck are the only main characters with less than 10 bashing fics to their name.
Fig. 1: This fucking barplot was a pain to make but here we are! Characters on the y-axis and number of fics that use respective bashing tag on the x-axis. The total number of respective fics are shown next to the bars; colour indicates the category the characters have been placed in. Top: continuous x-axis to allow for an easier overview of the proportions of the bars, bottom: x-axis with a break to allow a closer look.
Dishonourable mention: why the fuck would anybody write a fic with Christopher bashing?
Honourable mentions: Boeing and dolphin bashing. It did make the otherwise pretty depression task of data collection much better.
Gender-wise there are more bashing fics about men (54.3%) than there about women (44.3%) (of course I did not look at every character so I will have missed a few bashing fics). If nobody was writing Tommy bashing fics, that would be flipped (male: 43.0%, female: 55.3%).
Fig. 2: A lovely pie-chart showing the bashing fics per gender, with male subdivided into Tommy, and the other male characters.
Which brings us to the tragedy that is the hate this fandom has for Tommy Kinard. If you add up all the bashing tags I found (which does not equal fics, some people are happily bashing away in their fics), then his account for about 20%. Which is insane, wtf.
Discussion:
This was really depressing tbh. I showed the bar plot to my sister and she asked me what bashing is. She’s been in fandom for years; she was in the supernatural fandom and has read fics and somehow I still had to explain bashing to her. So really: yay for us, this fandom really is something.
If you look at beforeastorm’s tally from August, you’ll see that Tommy bashing fics began popping up in April 2024 and since then he has become the most bashed character (out of those I looked at, I’m pretty sure that this holds true).
Now you may be wondering why these characters are being bashed. Warning: the following part is based on my opinions. I did not read the fics of all 3291 bashing tag instances that I found.
In some cases it seems pretty straight forward: Vincent Gerrard, Chase Mackey, Doug Kendall and Olivia Ortiz need no further explanation. Other “villains” such as Jeffrey Hudson and Jonah Greenway have no bashing fics that I could find though.
The Buckley and Diaz parents getting bashed is also not surprising. Can’t say that I’m wild about it since my experience with reading fics that tag bashing was usually “here’s a random evil person I made up and then gave the name of an existing character”, but I understand where people are coming from.
Now the main characters… I’m just gonna say it: it’s people who have wronged Buck – according to some of the fandom at least. Chimney’s crime: the punch (no, I’m not defending it, but some people really have run with this). Maddie’s crime: not telling Buck about Daniel and then wanting to talk to him about it when he didn’t want to. Bobby’s crime: not allowing Buck back to work. Hen’s crime: idk, being Chimney’s bestie?
As for Eddie: I guess he’s a misogynist now, if you ask some people? Idk, it’s not like I read the summaries of all the fics because there are too many and also just no.
The love interests – which yes, in this case all happen to be Buck and Eddie’s love interests, imagine my surprise – happen to be “in the way” of shipping I guess. I did look at other love interest or ex-relationships and could find nothing.
Tommy’s crime: loving Evan.
Conclusion:
If you write bashing please keep tagging it.
Appendix:
All the characters I looked at: characters with no bashing fics I could find, characters with an established bashing tag, characters with no established bashing tag but bashing fics can be found
Main adult characters:
Athena Grant, Bobby Nash, Hen Wilson, Chimney Han, Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Maddie Buckley.
Recurring characters, family:
Michael Grant, David Hale, May Grant, Harry Grant, Beatrice and Samuel Carter, Emmett Washington;
Marcy Nash, Tim Nash;
Karen Wilson, Denny Wilson, Antonia Wilson, Nia and Mara;
Albert Han, Chimney’s father/Sang Han, The Lees, Jee-Yun Buckley-Han;
Margaret Buckley, Phillip Buckley, Daniel Buckley, Doug Kendall;
Christopher Diaz, Isabel Diaz, Helena Diaz, Ramon Diaz.
Recurring characters, love interests:
Tommy Kinard, Natalia Dollenmeyer, Taylor Kelly, Lucy Donato, Ali Martin, Abby Clark;
Kim, Marisol, Ana Flores, Shannon Diaz;
Eva Mathis;
Tatiana.
Recurring characters, others:
Firehouse 118 Crew Bashing;
Chase Mackey, Vincent Gerrard, Jonah Greenway, Jeffrey Hudson, Councilwoman Olivia Ortiz;
Josh Russo, Lena Bosko, Ravi Panikkar, Claudette Collins, Brad Torrance;
Boeing, Dolphin.
#statistics#911#911 abc#911 fandom#discourse#911 discourse#bashing fics#fanfic discourse#911 fanfic#txt
145 notes
·
View notes