#inspo: team eight

[cerowrites]

MEET THE TEAMS: TEAM EIGHT

YUUHEI KURENAI

The only child of Yuuhi Shinku and Takenada Honoka; Kurenai is a new jōnin, a veteran of the Third Ninja War, and one of the strongest genjutsu users in Konoha. Team Eight is her first team and she's thrilled with the prospect of teaching young ninja.

HYŪGA HINATA

The oldest child of Hyūga Hiashi and Hyūga Hiyomi and the older sister of Hyūga Hanabi; Hinata is a shy girl who greatly admires Uzumaki Naruto. This wallflower desires to be like her hero, Naruto.

ABURAME SHINO

The youngest child of Aburame Shibi and Aburame Kiku and the younger adopted brother of Aburame Torune; Shino is a loner whose only friends are his Kikaichū. The boy would love discover a new species of Kikaichū.

AKIMICHI CHŌJI

The only child of Akimichi Chōza and Satomi; Chōji is the leader of this generation of InoShikaChō and bewildered to find himself not on an InoShikaChō team. This food lover is determined to be the best leader his clan has ever seen.

[kimstills]

i can see you

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader summary: "here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?” content warnings: jealous!hotch, reader is a panther (aren't we all), bathroom sex, mirror sex, p in v, sexual tension, unprotected sex (r mentions being on birth control but wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink if u squint, spanking, hair pulling, choking, dom!hotch, sub!reader. word count: 3.9k (y’all this was not supposed to be this long lmao) notes: day 18 of @hotchfiles marchhotchness 'self-image' but also HEAVILY inspired by this post from @softhairedhotch because it made me go FERAL and i love jealous hotch (but pls lmk if taking inspo was okay!!) this is also my first hotch fic ever so pls lmk ur thoughts or any other feedback <333

aaron hotchner was not a jealous man.

he had no right to be jealous over something that technically did not exist or someone that technically was not his.

and although he only had himself to blame for that, he really did wish that you were his. and as much as he was telling himself not to be, he was jealous.

but it wasn’t the typical jealous where he watched you be approached by someone much younger than him—someone your own age instead of his—and by someone who already had him beat in reciprocating that flirtatious energy you often used on aaron himself.

no, this type of jealousy was one that was boosting his ego and making him feel lightweight, albeit the fact that it still made him see red.

it was a typical night out with the rest of the team, all of you having agreed that the eight of you were in need of a couple of drinks after some long weeks of paperwork and back and forth cases.

you were all engrossed in the conversation, but you had left the table to get yourself another refill on your drink and had taken far too long than it normally would have, the rest of the younger members—all besides reid—having decided on hitting up the dance floor throughout the time you hadn’t returned to your seat.

it was practically natural for aaron to look for you in a crowd, but what he hadn’t expected to find was you, sitting in a bar stool on the right side of the bar, being hit up by a man who had to have been a couple of years older than aaron himself.

the front hairs of the man’s head were peeking of several grey hairs, paired with a matching grey beard and an overall radiance that screamed of that older man type that you were apparently into.

the sudden revelation made aaron feel dizzy, the confirmation of your attraction towards older men making his pants tighten as he watched the way you stared up at the man with that sultry look of yours—the one where you were somehow able to perfectly mix mischief and innocence seamlessly together.

while you had used that look on aaron countless times before, times where it had been only you and him alone in his office, way past working hours, he had never done anything about it. but, god, as he watched you do it to someone else, out on the open, there was nothing he was currently regretting more.

aaron’s train of thought was interrupted as he felt someone kick him from underneath the table he sat at, whipping his head to the person in front of him only to find rossi staring at him with a smug look on his face.

he cleared his throat, “what?”

aaron mentally cringed at the way his voice wavered.

“you gonna be done being jealous anytime soon and make a move or are you just gonna sit there throwing daggers at the guy?” dave asked, brows raised.

he took a long sip from his drink, trying to avoid the question for as long as he could as he tried to compose himself, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

rossi rolled his eyes, “oh, please, aaron. you don’t have to be a profiler to notice the way you can cut the tension that’s between the both of you with a butter knife,”

aaron’s brows furrowed.

“you have all the confirmation you need right there,” dave pointed his thumb behind him, signaling at you and the man, “if that’s not enough for you, then i’m declaring you helpless at this point,” he let out a sigh, standing from his seat, “i’m going to get another drink and if i find you still sitting here, wallowing in your thoughts after getting my refill, i’ll go up to them and encourage her to go home with the man.”

aaron’s fists clenched at the thought. at the thought of you sprawled on the bed of another man, wearing that same look you had on just now and staring up at him as you—

his body acted faster than his brain did, and before he even had the chance to process what he was doing, he stood from his own stool, not allowing for another moment to pass by as he stormed over to where you and the man were sitting.

from your side of the room, you can see aaron make his way over to you through the peripheral of your vision, the excitement of finally getting a reaction out of him making your heart skip and your thighs press together as you took into count the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

the pressure you put on your thighs didn’t do anything to relieve the ache you felt in your core as he reached where you sat, coming to stand behind—was his name michael? although the stranger you had began talking to was definitely older than him, aaron was a good several inches taller, towering over the both of you.

he cleared his throat, cutting michael off from whatever he had been talking to you about as he turned around with a raised brow. aaron’s expression didn’t falter, not sparing a single glance at the man as his eyes landed on you, “y/n, can i speak to you for a moment?”

you mentally rolled your eyes. ever the formal one.

michael scoffed from in front of him, angling his body so that he was able to properly glare daggers at your boss, “we were in the middle of a conversation here, if you don’t mind?”

although your attraction for aaron skyrocketed in comparison to the man you had just met, you were thriving off of the jealousy radiating off of the one you wanted the most, the ache in your stomach only growing.

before aaron had the chance to shoot out a reply, you set your hand on michael’s forearm, giving him a small, but sad smile, “i’m sorry, michael,” you butted in, jumping off of the bar stool, “i’ll be right back, okay?”

another scoff comes from michael’s direction, “whatever,” he grabs his drink and rolls his eyes, “don’t even bother coming back,”

ew.

this time you actually rolled your eyes, grabbing at your drink and drowning the rest of it. you shrug, “older men are always a hit or miss,” you mumble, setting the glass down.

aaron’s hand comes to wrap around your wrist, a firm but gentle grip on it as he pulls you close to him, “let’s go,” he seethes in your ear.

you hide a smirk as you follow behind him, letting your body practically flail as you struggle to keep up with him. when he notices your staggered pace, he matches his footsteps with yours, moving his hand from your wrist to your waist as he guides you through the crowd and towards the hallway that lead towards the bar’s restrooms.

the both of you gave a silent thanks at the fact that there was no line, the hallway scarce and dimly lit with the exception of a few people standing together against the walls, either flirting or talking.

“what are you doing?” you ask, standing behind him as he knocks on one of the doors, his grip on your waist still very much present.

“you’ll see,” he mumbles, yanking the door open by the knob after no one replies and pulling the both of you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.

you try to take a good look at the interior of the bathroom, trying to guess if it was a good enough place to do whatever the two of you were about to do.

a faint gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard press into your ass, immediately melting as one of aaron’s big hands comes to rub at the side of your leg, right below your hip. his whole body comes up behind yours, his other free hand coming to your stomach to press you into him.

“aaron—” you try to speak but get cut off as you let out another gasp, one almost like a sigh, as the hand that was rubbing at your leg sneaks further up and wraps itself around your hip, aaron’s thick fingers digging into your skin despite the material of your shorts that blocked his hand.

aaron dips his head so that his mouth is right next to your ear, his breath and the faint touch of his lips against the lower part of your jawline sending shivers down your spine.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, a total contrast from the vice grip he had on both your front and hip.

you nod quickly, your hand coming up to your right where he held your hip to wrap around his own.

“use your words, honey,”

the pet name makes you whimper and your thighs clench in spite of the fact that you were standing up. you let out a ragged breath as he awaits for your answer, the hand that was pressed to your stomach furthering down until it was right above your pelvis but below your tummy, pushing you further back until you could feel how hard he actually was.

you whine, your other hand coming to wrap around that one, too, “yes,” you sigh, “it’s okay,”

aaron presses his lips into that same spot below your jaw, gently and lovingly before whipping you around so that you were facing him and pushing you up against the counter.

not even giving you a chance to process what he had just done, his lips crash onto yours roughly, making you moan directly into his mouth. your bring your arms up around his neck, running your fingers through his hair and tugging.

aaron hisses, slapping at your thigh in a firm way that had you let out another moan.

“aaron,” you whine, pushing up into his chest out of desperation.

he hums, “do you want my attention now?” he asks through the kiss, “don’t wanna go back and talk to that guy you were all over just a couple of minutes ago?”

“no,” you mumble, huffing as he breaks away from you to wrap his fingers around your chin.

he chuckles as your lips form into a puffy pout, “here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”

“no!” you whine again, your arms dropping from around his neck to wrap around his bicep, squeezing at the muscle to try and pull him closer to you, “just you!”

his confidence was beyond what it normally was, feeling you squirm from against him yet still wanting his touch, “really? so you weren’t planning on going home with that man? all those times you touched his shoulder or the times he would touch your thigh meant nothing?”

“yes, they didn’t mean anything!” you huff, “you’re the one i want to go home with all the time!”

aaron’s heart clenched at your confession, knowing that deep down you really did mean all the time. he had just never been sure if you truly were interested in living a joint life with him. up until now, that is.

he brings his hands to your back, right by your shoulder blades as he connects your lips once more. your shoulders relax and you lean into him with earnest, squeezing at the muscle from his bicep.

you hum, satisfied as he begins to run his hands up and down, resulting in the fabric of your shirt lifting with every time he went up, eventually ending up in nothing but rolled up fabric under his palm. he breaks the kiss once more to toss your shirt over your head and near the sink’s counter, leaving you in only your shorts.

aaron stared at your bare breasts, not expecting you to have not been wearing a bra despite the tight shirt you just had on.

you shiver under his gaze, opening your mouth to say something before he lowered himself and quickly attached a mouth to one of your breasts, the other one coming up to grab and squeeze at it. you moan, gripping onto the marble counter for support as he presses sloppy and wet kisses to each breast.

his fingers come to undo the button of your shorts, hooking them inside your panties before shoving both articles of clothing down your legs, signaling you to kick them off of you. you toed your shoes off as well, leaving you completely naked and bare for him while he remained fully clothed.

he turns you around gently, bringing you face to face with the sight of you completely stripped in the mirror, the image making you clench your thighs together once more as you stabilized yourself on the sink.

aaron’s hands soothed all around your body, a whimper leaving you at the feeling of his calloused hands groping at your breasts before moving down to your soaking pussy.

as if on instinct, you spread your legs open for him, practically inviting him to dip his fingers into your folds and inside your entrance. the thickness of both his index and middle fingers stretching you out. you knew you had always loved his hands for a reason.

a moan bounced off the walls as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, moving torturously slow before he began to pick up the pace. you could feel your slick drip onto the floor and probably onto the rest of his hand, but all you could focus on was shamelessly bucking your hips into your hand and spreading your legs for even more access.

“you’re soaking, honey,” aaron says, hand coming back around to squeeze at your breast again, leaving you gasping as he pinched your nipples.

you whimpered, “just for you,”

“‘just for me?’” he repeats, “not for anyone else, right?”

you shake your head no, pussy clenching around his fingers, “j-just for you, aaron,”

his hand left your breast to smack at your ass, making you jump, “good girl,”

with that, he takes his fingers out of you, a throaty whine leaving your lips at the empty feeling. you arched your back into him, but immediately stilled at the sound of him removing his belt filled the room. you watched from the mirror in front of you as he undid his pants button, reaching past his boxers to pull out his cock.

oh shit.

your mouth dropped at the sight of his dick spring out from where it had been confined, your slick hole clenching at nothing at how big he was. you knew that aaron hotchner was definition of big dick energy, always wondered what he was secretly packing, but now you wondered if you were going to be able to take it all.

he was thick, veiny all around with girth too thick that it hurt just looking at him. as much as you could tell you wouldn’t be able to walk after this, it excited you far too much.

you gulped, meeting his eyes in the mirror, landing on his hungry gaze, “is it going to fit?” you ask quietly, trying to bring your legs back together.

“we’ll make it fit,” he says, sounding confident of himself, a hand coming to stop you from closing your legs, “will you let me know if it’s too much?”

you take another look at his cock before giving him a determined look, “i will,” you nod.

he nods back, angling your head with his hand so he could press a kiss to your mouth.

you give into him easily, arching into him until you feel the tip of his cock slip through your wet folds and line up with your entrance. you had taken dick before, but never this big, so as he gave you one last look, you took a deep breath before feeling him sink into you.

you gasp, already feeling full by just the tip, though the slickness of your pussy helping you in adjust.

“still good, honey?”

you nod again, too busy focusing on how his length was stretching you out further than his fingers had.

smack!

aaron’s hand landed another spank on your ass, making you snap your heads toward him with a confused, dumbfounded expression. he glared, “use your words.”

you huffed, doing your best to not roll your eyes, “still good,” you replied, going back to focusing on how full your pussy already felt, “is it in yet?”

“almost, baby,” you whined again, pushing your ass back onto him and earning yourself another inch inside.

humming in delight, you felt aaron begin to move, setting a slow pace as he inched himself in and out to get you used to the length that was already inside you.

“aaron,” you sighed, “give it all to me,” you pleaded at him through the mirror, “i can take it,”

he studied your expression, all needy and flushed as you tried to buck your hips further back to fill yourself up more, “let me know if it’s too much,” he warned.

you nodded eagerly but didn’t get a chance to reply as he shoved the rest of his length inside, the tip immediately hitting that one spot. you gasped loudly, the feeling of his whole cock inside you awakening a hunger inside of you, “fuck,” you moaned, dropping your hands so that you were resting with your elbows on the counter, “please, aaron. move,”

he hesitated for another moment, and just as you were about to look behind you, you felt him begin to move, pistoling his hips into your ass roughly.

you let out a shriek, your hands grabbing at anything you could reach in order to stabilize yourself as he began to mercilessly pound into you from behind. he slipped his dick in and out of you each time, your pussy hugging the veiny length each time he did.

the sounds your juices made due to you being soaked vibrated against the room each time his hips hit your ass roughly, and it only edged you on further.

“a-aaron,” you moan, breasts jiggling against the cold sink as the girth of his cock stretched you out, “aaron! oh, fuck!”

you thought you had felt good getting his attention when you were back flirting with the guy, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his dick slamming into you.

from above, aaron grunted and groaned, fingers and nails digging into your hips harshly as he pounded into your perfect pussy. he loved the way you clenched around him, taking it back perfectly each time he slipped back in.

his hand reached for your hair, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back until you were flush against him with your back still perfectly arched. he dropped his hand from your head to wrap around your neck, fingers digging into the sides.

you gasped, not having a choice as you looked at him through the now foggy mirror, the image of your body rocking with every smack against your body only adding onto the sensation.

“such a perfect pussy,” aaron grumbled into your ear, “this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it sweetheart?”

you did your best to nod regardless of how weak your body felt, of the way you could feel your slick drip down to your thighs or the way you were drooling from your open mouth, “belongs to you, aaron,” you mumble, surprisingly coherently despite the way he was choking you.

“yeah, it does,” he grunts, free hand coming to grab at your stomach again before pushing against the spot where his cock was evidently sliding in and out of you, making you squirm, “this greedy pussy belongs to me. not to that bastard you were flirting with, right, honey?”

you nod again, eyes stuck on the tummy bulge you currently displayed, your hole clenching at aaron’s cock even tighter at the way the indent disappeared when he slipped out versus when it reappeared when slipping back in.

“feels so good, aaron,” you mumble, saliva dropping from your lips and onto your pointy, practically rock hard nipples that jiggled with each thrust.

“yeah?” he asks, breath hot against your ear, “taking it so well for me, such a good girl,” he praises, hand leaving from your stomach to slither down to where your bodies connected.

you let out a squeal as his middle finger slipped through your finger and his index began to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the feeling making the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten.

you babbled aaron’s name like a loose mantra, bodies rocking together as he quickened his pace after realizing that you were close to orgasming, hand tightening around your neck and finger rubbing even faster than before.

“c’mon, honey, come for me,” he encouraged, “come all over my cock, pretty girl,”

it was all the confirmation you need to let yourself go, body shaking and aaron’s name being repeated as you chased the high, glad that he was holding you up with his hands as your whole body stuttered.

the feeling of your pussy clenching and unclenching around him violently made aaron groan, sweat dripping down his body as he began to reach his own high just from the way your body reacted to orgasming from his dick. from the way he was fucking you and from the way he was naming you as his own.

you could feel his pace falter from behind you, lazily meeting his pace as you tried to encourage him to finish, “come in me, aaron, please,” you whined, needing to feel him fill you up to the point where his come would leak out of you, “fill up my pussy, aaron,”

he gave you a look of unsureness through the mirror before you nodded at him, “i’m on the pill. it’s okay. please,”

that had been all the confirmation he need for him to finish inside you, his cock twitching inside you as his seed filled you up, making you moan as you rode out your own orgasm, still clenching tightly around him.

you giggled at the way his body practically toppled onto yours as he tried to catch himself, bodies pressed together as he held onto the counter with his dick still inside you.

he snaked his hand around the side of your face as his breath evened, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and shutting up your whines as he pulled out from inside you with a kiss to your mouth.

“jack’s at a sleepover today,” he says after a few moments of silence.

you inch an eyebrow at him, watching as he leaned over to grab some toilet paper, snatching some off the holder before wiping himself clean of you and wincing at the sensitivity as he wiped gently at your own folds and thighs, “is he now?”

he hums, tucking himself back into his boxers and quickly buttoning his pants to help you put your own clothes on, “he is,” he grabbed your discarded shorts and parties from the floor and signaled you to lift your legs, “we can go home and i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and ask you to be go on an official date with me in the morning,”

your heart pulls as he buttons up your shorts for you, reaching for your shirt, too, “i’ll only say yes if we keep going when we get home,” you admit, making him freeze in his movements.

he pinched your nipple.

[whowrotethenote]

Warnings // Suggestions and talk of smut // Talk of murder, violence, genocide, rape, sexual abuse & sexual assault // Profanity // Slight grieving // Angst

Word Count // 5.8k

Inspo // No real inspo. It was just something about Roman in a cage that did something to me. And I rewatched Presumed Innocent on Apple TV and got in my detective bag lol.

A/N // I tried to not to be too graphic as I know a lot of people can’t stomach certain things. If you can watch an episode of Criminal Minds or Law & Order, then you should be good. Happy reading bitches!💗

Disclaimer // The Tribal Killer Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

“We’re gonna be right here the whole time. Listening to everything." Juno's direct supervisor and mentor, District Attorney Leah Williams, assured her nodding toward the numerous screens beside them. All with different angles of him. He hung from the top of the cage's bars, doing pull-ups from what she could see. She quickly averted her eyes back to Williams, not wanting to fixate on him too long. It was pointless as she was minutes away from being in the room with him face to face.

"Okay."

Williams rested loving hands on both of Juno's arms like a mother sending her child off on the first day of school would. Her eyes went big to make sure her apprentice heard and digested every word. "Its gonna seem like you're alone, but we're right here."

“I know,” Juno matched her head movements, nodding.

“He makes you uncomfortable—if he tries anything, you pull the plug. You understand?”

“This isn’t her first rodeo, Williams.” Both women smiled at one another. “I hand picked her myself,” Hunter Blanch, the Attorney General vouched for her. “She’s ready.” He threw a wink her way and her smile deepened. 

Her mission was simple. Get him to confess. To trip up at the very least. And if he didn’t? If he gave her just one reason to believe he was innocent? She was going to do what Juno always did. Follow her heart.

She’d have to make the impossible decision of whether or not she would represent him. Being the newest and youngest to join the Oakland County Prosecuting Attorney’s office, the answer should’ve been clear. Hell no.

Not only is it a conflict of interest, given her current role as an Assistant District Attorney, supposed to be representing the state; but she also didn’t know in her heart if she was even capable of defending the opposition.

Fresh out of law school two years ago, after getting eaten alive in the courtroom on one of her first cases as a Defense Attorney, she vowed to never switch teams again. It scared her right into working for the government, where she deemed it safe. But safe was just so unfulfilling.

And with this particular case and this particular suspect, she already knew. It was suicide. She couldn’t afford for her fresh career, working with the government now, to take such a hit. They’d lose. Get blown out. Her career would be over before it even started and no one would take the young, black, female attorney seriously ever again.

On the off chance that they did win, with all the attention the case has already gained, she’d be branded a legend at just twenty-eight. Her mind rewound back to just minutes ago, walking up the steps of the holding facility, trying to finesse her way through the crowd of reporters and protesters alike. National and local news stations with cameras and microphones shoved in her face. Blanch gave a brief statement.

“The Oakland County detectives have been more than diligent in finding the monster who’s responsible for the death of nineteen young women, right here in Michigan. The DA’s Office plans on doing the rest. Thank you, everyone.”

Juno fantasized about what it would look like to defend him. They’d talk about this case for years to come. Like the OJ trial. Casey Anthony. They already seen her face and knew her name. Juno Accardi. The young apprentice going in to slay the beast. But what if she was the young apprentice going in to tame it? Free it?

It was a textbook serial killer case. He was the perfect suspect. Roman Anoa'i. Thirty-eight year old, semi-truck driver, who grew up right in the heart of the area where the murders took place. He knew the area. He knew most of the girls. Even grew up with some of them.

Never married. No kids. Lived a very isolated life. Spent most of his days on the road. Routine deliveries in and out of the city, across other midwestern states, and more importantly in and out of the Isabella Reservation, where all of the victims lived or were from.

Elise White. She was the first victim found over half a year ago. A Saginaw Chippewa tribe member who was born and raised on the Reservation, Sheriffs found her body on the side of I-75 after an anonymous tip. She was completely naked, covered in her own blood, and her silhouette was outlined with red orchids. Almost like the kind that you’d find on a Lei. She was stabbed over ten times and the coroner found evidence of sexual assault occurring before and after her death.

Nineteen. That’s the number of girls he did this to. They were almost always the same. Indigenous from the Reservation, unmarried, and anywhere between the ages of nineteen to thirty-seven. The Tribal Killer. That’s the name the public had branded him before he was even caught.

It took a while for the detectives to connect the dots, but they did. He was almost always alone, so he never had a solid alibi. He already had a record. The semi-truck was the perfect location to spend time alone with the victims. He fit the description of the anonymous man that everyone recalled seeing a number of the victims with. And the things the detectives found while raiding his home and truck, sealed the deal. He was guilty before they ever even considered him innocent.

It was an easy win for the state. So, Williams handed it down to Juno, hoping to help get her feet wet and make her mark. But a young and ambitious Juno saw it differently.

The night before, Juno stayed up almost until she saw the sun. Switching between a mug of black coffee and a glass of white wine. Files on top of files decorated her living room floor, the coffee table, her kitchen table and even some on the couch. All with the most minute, dark, gory and salacious details of the entire case from the very beginning. Victim one all the way to victim nineteen.

She read all of it. Once—twice—five more times, until it was burned into her memory like a fraternity member getting branded. Pictures of the victims pale-faced, naked and bloody all over her small high-rise. ME reports telling horror stories of the murders.

She didn’t know why, but she could feel it. She could feel them. All the women he killed. She dreamed about them. Saw each and every one of their faces clearly. Heard their voices. In some way it was like they were asking her to solve the case. Almost as if they were telling her that they had the wrong guy.

Williams always did warn her. She said every lawyer would get that one case. The one that would stick with them. The one that would make or break their career. They’d obsess over it. It would consume them. That’s exactly what was happening.

Juno could feel it in her bones. Whatever decision she made next would change the entire course of her life. For better or worse, was still unclear.

She hadn’t informed her colleagues, and especially not Williams her mentor, of the decision she dangled in her mind. She’d talk her out of it. Her position in the office would be in limbo for sure. No one likes a turncoat. Even the government and sleazy politicians despise that.

"Ma'am we ask that you stay at least six feet from the cage at all times. He shouldn’t be in the possession of any items, but in the unusual case that he is, we ask that you do not accept any items from him, nor offer any to him…" The armed guard recited like a robot. Juno zoned out after a while. She had heard all of these warnings before while visiting suspects. None like him, though. She didn’t know exactly how, but she could feel that he was different from the others.

After his speech the guard unlocked the steel door, but didn’t open it yet. Juno closed her eyes and breathed deep. In through her nose, out through her mouth. "Breathe, Ju," she coached herself. "He's just a man."

When she opened her eyes, the guard looked at her expectantly. She nodded, giving him the okay to open the door. Walking through it, the heels of her black stilettos echoed on the dark epoxy coated concrete like bombs.

The room was cold and black. So dark she couldn’t see how wide or far back it stretched, but every echo of her steps let her know she'd have serious ground to cover if she had to get out fast.

All she could see was him. A single light casted over the steel cage they had him confined in. The heavy door she came in slammed shut, causing her to jump and stop in place. Checking behind her for the guard was no use. She couldn’t see shit. She waited for the dramatic music of a horror film when the white blonde called out, "who's there?" It was fitting. But all she got back was the sound of her own heartbeat.

The man in the cage was unaffected. His rhythmic grunts continued as he pulled himself up and down from the bars atop of the cage. His tanned upper body shone from sweat, as it was uncovered, leaving his orange jumper falling around his waist. The entire left side of his body was burdened with the dark ink of tribal tattoos.

Juno pressed her mouth shut when it went agape watching the muscles in his back dance every time he pulled himself up. She took the last step to the cage that she felt she needed to, then took an extra step back to account for the six feet. On cue, he let go of the bars and landed on his feet with a slight thud.

A man his size looked unnatural behind bars. He was built like a superhero that could bend the bars to his will and escape if he wanted to. His muscles had muscles. Veins thick, protruding from his hands to his neck. His left hand shook and his towering frame turned in her direction, making her forget to breathe for a second.

He looked much different than the pictures the news had showcased for the past two weeks. His hair wasn’t as long, it was now shoulder length. His beard no longer clean cut, but thicker, untamed and scruffier. Still, it was like seeing the inside of the Vatican for the first time. He was beautiful. Almost in an ancient and haunting way.

“When they said they were sending in an attorney from the state,” he poked his plump lips out while shaking his head. The damp curls moving with him. “You are not what I had in mind, baby.”

He used the dangling sleeve of his jumper to wipe off his forehead and large hands. "I was thinking more like a man with a bald spot in a too big suit. Much like that piece of shit who came in here yesterday and said he would defend me."

His voice was hypnotizing. It was rough and somehow soothing. He was just above a whisper and still commanding. Juno hadn't realized how long she was watching his mouth until she saw his top lip curl into a smirk.

"Huh?" She asked, not even knowing if he said something else.

The light chuckle that left him, made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "What is your name?"

"…Juno… Juno Accardi."

"Italian?"

"My father is, yes."

It was unnatural the way he disarmed her that quickly. Just a minute ago she was planning an emergency escape route and suddenly he finessed her name and heritage in under thirty seconds. She snapped upright, reminding herself of not just the circumstance, but just how charismatic and charming serial killers could be.

She squatted to drop the briefcase she forgot she held at her feet. She could feel his eyes sticking to her with every move as she pulled out the file that had all the most recent details of the upcoming trial and stood back at full height. Flicking through the papers, she gave herself a silent pep talk. It was showtime.

“Are you aware that they’re fighting to give you the needle?” He nodded. “So, then you know the severity of this case?”

“I’on really understand what all the fuss is about.” He crossed his muscular arms over his massive pecks, leaning a broad shoulder to the cage’s steel bars. “Now all of a sudden they care what happens to the indigenous? Just a few centuries ago a whole group of them came and did the same things. Raped and pillaged an entire culture.”

“Are you saying you chose Native women because you knew you’d get away with it? That no one would be looking for them anyway?”

He chucked to himself dodging her first attempt of an accusative left hook. “No, baby. I’m saying whoever did, knew no one would give a shit really. That they’d be able to get a few down before it ever caught any traction. Imagine their surprise when they see their work on CNN. Whole world in a frenzy about a bunch of indigenous women raped and murdered, when that’s always been the case. Fucking America.”

“You seem very passionate about the topic. Genocide.”

“I just pay attention, is all.”

“Attention to detail is a shared trait amongst most serial killers."

He laughed out loud this time. “Where’d you learn that, huh? That fancy law school teach you that? Oh no, wait. Maybe that expensive historically black college?”

His revelation of where she spent nearly five years studying criminology shook her. She kept her slim face unmoved as best she could. Still, an unspoken dance of cat and mouse lingered between them. He was limited to the bars of the cage, but it couldn’t be more obvious who was in control. Her thoughts were loud to him. He could see the exact moment he knocked her off her square.

“Like I said. I just pay attention.” He gestured his head slightly down and shot eyes to her briefcase that laid on the floor by her feet. The dainty HU’19 charm hung on the side. A gift from her mother who was also Howard alumna. She’s had the briefcase for years now. Latched the charm on the hook of the strap proudly. Still, she forgot most days that it existed there.

"So," he continued placing two large hands out on the bars in front of him. "You're the pretty bitch that’s gonna prove to everyone that I killed those girls." She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. "The one that’s gonna get me killed." Juno didn’t even flinch at the name she was called. She had heard far worse in her line of work.

"Actually…" She licked her lips that somehow became dry. "I wanna help you."

Blanch crossed his arms, locking eyes with Williams. The lead detective on the case, Rich Wheatley, squinted at the screens before him. "What is she doing?" Wheatley asked them.

“Easy, boys. She’s just building rapport. Trust tactic,” Williams assured Blanch and the officers watching the screens with her as the energy in the room became uneasy. Although, in her mind she feared the young girl had gone rogue. She was always too ambitious for her own good. She silently prayed that all her guidance and wisdom was enough to steer her in what she saw as the right track. She had handed Juno, a fellow black woman in a white, male-dominated field, the perfect opportunity. She had no idea Juno had plans to fumble it.

Roman raised a thick eyebrow. Juno tried her best not to stare at the distracting, protruding veins on his arms, still visible from his workout. "That’s not why they sent you in here."

She shook her head. "No. No its not. But I'm doing it anyway."

“You don’t think I did it.” He stated more than inquired, like he already knew the answer.

“I don’t think you’re entirely guilty. But I also don’t think you’re innocent either.” Something between a scoff and a chuckle left him.

“I like you Juno.” He spoke her name like he knew her all his life. His darks eyes lazily scanned her entire silhouette, eliciting goosebumps to form on her skin.  She silently thanked her past self for choosing the long-sleeved button up. He wasn’t hiding the deliberate hard stop on her semi-exposed breast. A thick tongue snaked out to lick his pink bottom lip. “You’re the exact type I would go for…”

“Go for?” Her brows pinched together.

“To fuck,” he clarified. Her heartbeat quickened. “Late night at a bar. Young, ambitious, studious woman unsure of herself, that likes to bite off more than she can chew.” He set the scene for her and every word he spoke had her hanging off the edge of her seat, ready to lean into the steel bars. There was underlying sex appeal in every word he spoke. Everything about him was erotic. “Your line of work gets pretty hectic. Long days and long nights. Probably in there just trying to let a load off. I’d come up and offer you a better way to relieve the tension.”

Juno couldn’t help but to visualize the picture he painted of them. "I wouldn’t take you to my house. Nah, I wouldn’t be able to wait that long for it. I'd buss it down right in the parking lot. Bend you over on the side of the building." Williams shook her head as she fought the urge to pull the plug herself.

“You have a very nice face. Big eyes. Naturally pouty lips,” he told her before biting on his own. “I'd have to turn you around just to watch it. Wouldn’t wanna pull out but I would. Finish right on that pretty face.”

Juno swallowed the lump in her throat and nearly choked from it being so dry. Such vile words surely shouldn’t have aroused her. But no client had ever elicited these kinds of emotions from her. A murderer. It was forbidden territory.

In school she’d read about girls falling for these kinds of men. Writing them love letters as they rotted in a dirty cell. Showing up to trial in skimpy clothing to get the accused’s attention. Bundy had a whole fan club. An eighty year old Manson got married while incarcerated for some of the most heinous crimes America has seen. Women can be very strange. The things they become attracted to can change the entire course of their life and alter their psyche.

Although eliciting an most foreign feeling, Roman’s words were not foreign to her ears. She’s heard worse. Clients getting frustrated and threatening her. A prisoner she visited to conduct research having a manic episode, giving her a play by play of how they would slit her throat and then have their way with her dead body.

Ignoring the friction of her now stiff nipples on the fabric of her lace bra, she cleared her throat before speaking up again. “Is that how you got Laura Bernard?” Victim number eleven. A young single mother left her only son with her sister to go out to a bar for a drink and never came back. A week later her body was found stabbed multiple times with evidence of sexual assault. Her silhouette outlined with red orchids. Just like the ten unlucky victims before her.

The bartender and other patrons in attendance recalled seeing her talking with a large man. Not pale enough to be Caucasian, they said. They were seen leaving together. No one could remember the mystery man’s face or any other distinct details about him. The eyewitnesses were unreliable anyway. They had all been intoxicated the night of the incident.

The significance of Laura Bernard to Roman? He admitted to the officers that brought him in, that he had slept with Laura before. Just not the night of the murder. And still, he was not budging on the declaration that he did not kill her.

Juno studied his every move, waiting for a sign or some type of reaction from hearing the victim’s name. But there was no glint in his eye from reliving the murder. No twitch of his eyebrow. No rubbing of the hands. Not even that devilish smirk showed itself. Nothing.

“I’ve told the story before.” His head shook, already growing bored of reciting the same confessions. The same monologue. It was rehearsed at this point. “I met Laura at a gas station. I was making a stop to fill the semi up. She was looking for a ride into the city. I gave it to her. Told her it was free of charge. Still, she offered to give it up. I’m a grown ass man so I took it.”

“And Alyssa Haskie?” Juno pushed. Victim number eight. Nineteen year old college student home for the holidays. Went out for a late night jog and never made it home. Same fate as the others. Stabbed repeatedly with signs of sexual assault before time of death and postmortem. Corpse decorated with red flowers.

“That little bitch lied to me about her age. I don’t fuck girls who's age ends in teen. I prefer grown women.” He looked down with just his sly eyes. “The ones that wear stilettos to work.”

She shook her head, trying to stay on the road she set out, even with his constant veering.

“You knew seven of the nineteen victims. Admitted to sleeping with at least five of them. You do understand why you are the number one suspect, right?”

“The reservation is small. I come in and out all the time to deliver them shit from the city. And yes, I like to have a little bit of fun when I'm not on the clock. I get around. Is that a crime, Juno?”

“Depends. You like to have this fun before or after they take their last breath?” He ran a hand down his thick beard.

“That’s a question I'm not answering. Besides, I read that the killer does both.”

Juno crossed her arms. “You seem to know a lot about the crimes you didn’t commit.”

“Now why would I not read up on the monster y'all are accusing me to be? I’m in here all day. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. It makes the time go faster.”

Juno’s eyes bounced around the floor and her pointed heels, thinking of another angle. For every question, he had a reasonable answer. Every jab she attempted, he blocked it. He was a tough one.

“Elise White. She was your first?” Victim number one.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at when you say first.”

“Girlfriend.” She switched after he blocked another accusative jab.

“Yeah. She was." He confirmed. "My father worked with some of the sheriffs on the reservation. I spent my junior and senior year of high school living there. Going to school there. Its where we met.”

Juno nodded already knowing the story. The first victim is almost always emotionally motivated. There’s usually history there. Most times it’ll be the key to solving the entire case.

“Why’d you two split?”

A deep chuckle carried in the spacious room. He ran his long fingers through his wild beard. “You really wanna know?”

“I’m asking aren’t I?”

“…She had a lousy sex drive.” Juno sighed deeply. “I wanted to fuck everyday. Sometimes multiple times in a day. She didn’t. We broke up.” He shrugged. “Probably should’ve kept her around though. Elise was smart. Resourceful. Cooked her ass off. Would’ve made a decent wife. Shame.” As his head shook he developed a genuine look of solemn. Mourning almost. Brows pinched and jaw tight, he looked down at his feet for the first time.

“The agents that brought you in, they searched your truck and your home. Found some very interesting things.” Roman’s head cocked to the side, tapping his slender fingers on the bars, seeming almost anxious for her to recite the items recovered. “Handcuffs. Rope. Chains. Gags…” Juno pressed her lips together, not wanting to continue.

“Go on, baby. What else did they find?”

Juno’s mouth opened then closed. Flashes of the evidence photographed swarmed her mind. She imagined him sniffing them, holding them tight in his large hands, and even biting them. “…Women’s underwear. Over a hundred pairs.” It made her sick to her stomach, that every pair could've represented a victim.

“What color panties are you wearing, Juno?” He questioned in almost a whisper.

Her name rolling off his deviant tongue was the most erotic thing she had ever heard with her own ears.

Juno shifted her weight to the other leg. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat. It thrummed through her ears as her face grew hot. She's never been more grateful for her mother’s genes supplying her with Hershey colored skin.

“You seem like the type to not even wear any,” he continued. He sucked in a sharp breath and groaned with closed eyes. “Mmm.” He practically growled.

“We’re getting off topic.”

“I like that. Easy access,” he ignored her. ”But I have a thing for the lace ones. Red. My favorite color.”

“Like the flowers you left around your victims?” She countered.

His tongue rested outside of his mouth, toying with the hairs of his mustache. "Nah," he finally answered.

Still nothing. Unfazed. Stoic. No daze of daydreaming about the acts he committed. No emotion other than pure arrogance. So, she pulled her last trick out of the hat.

“Where were you on the night of March twentieth?”

Silence covered the room like a blanket. She was going for the big knockout. Victim number nineteen. The reason they had enough for a warrant. The reason where he laid his head was raided by dozens of heavily armed agents. 

Even if by some ridiculous miracle, he didn’t lay a menacing hand on none of the other victims, she was sure he had something to do with her death. Naomi Nodin.

“You know where I was.” His dark eyes told a thousand stories. It seems her thoughts weren’t the only ones that were loud now.

Their eyes danced in a silent battle. He wasn’t going to offer more than she asked for. She had to press him.

“Neighbors said they heard screaming. Two people yelling in a jealous rage. Loud noises. Glass even.”

“That’s a big swing you attempting at, baby. You sure you’re ready for that?” He squinted.

“When the police arrived, there was no glass. No mess. No signs of struggle. Whoever killed her, knew her. She let them in. She wasn’t afraid.” He slid his interlocked fingers back and forth between each other, breaking eye contact.

She had something. His entire disposition changed. Naomi meant something. Either that or the that night was just traumatizing for him. She understood. A woman he was intimate with, dead just minutes after seeing her. Guilty or not, over a dozen armed detectives busting down your front door and dragging you out of bed at two in the morning could shake anyone.

“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.”

Against her own will, the pictures taken of Naomi's lifeless face flashed in her mind. Her breath picked up and her eyes began to sting.

“Uh oh,” he teased. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She blinked rapidly as her nose flared.

“That,” he nodded in her direction. ”Did you? You knew her?"

Juno opted for silence, leaving him to form his own conclusions. The little voice in her head, screamed for her not to do this, but her heart was telling her otherwise.

“She told me about a man she was seeing. Slightly older. A truck driver. Not her usual type. No, she usually went for the big fish. Lawyers—doctors—politicians that preferred exotic women. And not even a week later…she's murdered, right on her kitchen floor."

Williams inspected the girl, watching everything play out from a TV screen. She was unaware that her young apprentice Juno knew the latest victim. She would’ve never gotten the case otherwise. Conflict of interest. Maybe she was deceiving him on purpose? Trying to make it more personal to get him to slip up? She threw up two hands to let an even more perplexed Blanch know she didn’t know what was going on.

"You told the detectives you two were dating?"

"That’s right."

"Were you aware that you weren't the only man she was dating?"

He flashed a daunting smile. "That doesn’t mean anything to me."

"So, that’s not why you two were arguing that night? You didn’t go there to confront her about sleeping around with other men? Better men?" Juno knew she was prancing in dangerous territory. Men like Roman didn’t do well with inferiority. He only laughed lowly to himself, shaking his head. "Just tell me the truth," she encouraged.

"I did not kill her," was his only response.

"You snapped. You didn’t realize what you did. You didn't mean for it to go that far." He shook his head and ran two large palms over and down his silky curls. "You were the last person to see her alive. Your fingerprints all over her-- the kitchen. Your DNA, left inside of her…"

His mouth twitched like he was fighting the urge to grin. It didn’t matter that he didn’t, because his brown eyes smiled for him.

“I didn’t kill Naomi…”

“Then you know who did.”

“Nope. Don’t know that either babygirl. Once y’all find them though, go ‘head and thank them for me?”

“You were the last person to see her alive,” she restated ignoring his tasteless banter. She wasn’t amused. She thought she knew everything walking in here, but he’s twisted her brain like a pretzel now. Playing mind games. Showing her different routes, opening doors she hadn’t seen before.

“The last known person to see her alive.”

“The camera caught you leaving her house at exactly 12:06 a.m. on the ten second mark. Her estimated time of death was 12:07 a.m. Around the same time the neighbors said they heard her dog barking.” She recited the details of the case like a preacher would the Bible. “If someone did come in through a window or the back, that leaves only a seventy second or so window for the murder to take place.”

Roman shrugged. “Well, how long does it take to stab a person to death and throw a bunch of flowers around them? Not impossible.”

The silence was long and eerie. At least for Roman. He squinted at the woman on the other side of the bars. Her thoughts were loud before and her anxiety draped around her like a shawl. Not now though. Something shifted. She wasn’t looking at him. Anyone watching would think so, but he could see that she was looking through him, her mind racing about something else. Her wheels spinning.

He didn’t know it, but his last words had just made Juno’s decision for her.

“Of course,” she finally responded with no inflation in her voice. 

Bending at her knees she picked up the briefcase to shove the folder back into it. Face contorted, he eyed her the whole time as she packed up and turned on her high heels.

“Well?” She stopped and only turned her head hearing his authoritative voice. “You taking the case or what?”

She hesitated. Williams and Blanch were already on their way down to meet her on the other side of the steel door. She sucked in a deep breath, preparing herself for all the dominoes ready to fall.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Juno's adrenaline kicked up full speed at her own words. It was for real now. She came in as the rookie attorney they used as bait, and she was leaving out as something else. It was a rebirth of some sort.

Walking with the guard down the hallway, she could see them at the other end, like an army coming full speed to obliterate their open enemy. She hadn't prepared for this. She didn’t think she would've made it this far.

Blanch and Williams marched to her, escorted by several guards. She tried her best not to cower at the heavy stares. Williams in particular beamed daggers at her like a mother who just left the parent-teacher conference and couldn’t wait to dig in her kid's ass.

"What the hell happened in there?" Williams questioned fiercely, not even waiting until she fully reached Juno.

Juno's big eyes shot straight to Blanch. "I quit," she declared boldly.

"You what?" Willams laughed incredulously.

"I quit," she repeated, this time to her mentor. "I'm picking up his case." Juno knew she owed at least Williams a better explanation than that, but she couldn’t find one that didn’t sound rooted in personal gain or pure naivety. It wouldn’t matter anyhow. She took a step to get past them, but Williams planted a firm hand on the wall blocking her path.

"Are you absolutely insane right now?"

"He didn’t do it."

Blanch let out a snort. "And exactly what the hell did he say in there, to make you think he's innocent?"

"We never released to the public that Naomi wasn’t stabbed like the rest of them. The only people that know she was really strangled to death are us, the detectives, the coroner, the crime scene people and the killer." She looked between the two prosecutors who she revered deeply, but would have to go against. "If he was the killer, he'd know that." Juno ducked under William's arm, making a swift exit.

"Juno!" Williams called with remarkable bass. She halted in place but didn’t turn back around to face her. "You are making a big mistake. Think about what you are doing."

Well-behaved women rarely make history. Those were the words her mother recited to her on the day of her graduation. Juno was not like other women. Something she picked up about herself since she was younger.

While other girls were fussing and stressing over trivial, insignificant matters like marriage, when they would have kids, or if they should lose ten pounds before summer, Juno woke up with thoughts of getting ahead of the pack. She wasn’t like other women and she had no desire to be. She always felt her calling was much bigger than just fitting in and falling in line. So, she made the decision right then and there to walk a different path.

"I'll pick up my things tomorrow." And with that she strutted down the rest of the hall on her way to make history. 

A/N // This was my first time writing something like this. Lmk if y’all liked it or if it even makes sense😂 I kinda like these characters…wouldn't mind writing about them again.

Also, the verdict is in lol. I'm already working on a part 2 and possibly part 3 for Biggest Fan. And I want to thank anyone who reached out after I had a mild crash out a couple days ago lol thank you for all the kind and encouraging words🫶🏽

If you read this or even a portion, I am extremely grateful. As always feedback is welcomed💗

୨⎯ 🌹 taglist 🌹 ⎯୧: @raya-hunter01 @trippinsorrows @minsingular @luvrsluxe @vynaissance

[niki-phoria]

pairing: gamer!niki x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 662

includes: gamer niki, non idol au, mentions of live streaming, lots of fluff

a/n: inspired by this post from @lovelylusts !! i hope you don't mind me taking some inspo from your idea <33

gamer bf!niki who mercilessly beats you at mario kart 

— he plays dirty too

— blocks the screen so you can’t see where you’re going, reaches over to tickle you until you drop your controller, distracts you until the time limit passes

— sometimes he does it intentionally just to see your pout

— he lets you win before you stop playing tho, just to see you smile

— if the other members are around while you’re playing they’ll purposely get in niki’s way just so you can win

— he pretends to hate it but the smile on his face says otherwise

gamer bf!niki who teaches you how to play his fav games

— it’s your fav bonding activity to do together

— he’s very cliche about it too

— niki sits behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, hands placed over yours as he helps you press the buttons on the controller

— the type to press kisses against your neck/shoulder when you pass levels or get better too

— probably tickles your sides when you accidentally mess up too lmao

gamer bf!niki who lets you play on his accounts (at the expense of his rank)

— he’ll even purposely go back to intro sequences just so you can see how to play

— niki is extremely patient while explaining everything to you

— he’ll do that thing where he puts his hands on top of yours and shows you how to use the controllers/play the game

— the members call him a simp

— he totally is one

gamer bf!niki who never lets you pay for your own games

— even if he has no interest in whatever you want, he’s willing to spend all of his money on whatever console/game you want

— helps you set up your account and figure out all of the controls too

— niki will play whatever you want whenever you want to

— you always get to decide what game(s) you’re playing for the night

gamer bf!niki who will always be your player 02

— doesn’t even let you think about playing with anyone else

— even if he’s literally falling asleep while you’re playing niki will sit next to you and follow you around your animal crossing island

— he’s totally willing to carry your team on pvp games too lmao

— massacres the other team and then turns to you like “good job jagi :D you got them all”

— he enjoys games the most when he’s playing with you but don’t tell anyone that

gamer bf!niki who makes servers just for the two of you

— he goes out of his way to hide them from his hyungs too

— probably had to kick heeseung off of at least one mc server lmao

— he gets super into it too

— makes a million different servers just to annoy you

— he doesn’t name them either you have to scroll through a list until you find “new world #18” to get which one you want

— “ki which one was the bedwars server again?” “...world number eight. i think”

gamer bf!niki who always invites you onto his streams

— exclusively streams with his members and you

— it doesn’t matter if you have your own channel or not he’ll bring you on whenever he can (or whenever you want to)

— if you do have your own channel, he goes out of his way to shout you out

— he will not rest until you have more follows than him

— “niki the numbers don’t mean anything to me” “but you deserve the support of the entire world”

— it’s really sweet honestly

gamer bf!niki who loves you so so much

— it’s mostly the little things

— the blue light glasses you bought him to prevent eye strain, your gentle hand and shoulder massages whenever his body gets sore, your smile when you drag him out on long walks just so he gets some fresh air

— niki truly adores you

— and he does everything he can think of to makes sure you know it

[senditcolton]

If You Want It Done

love. hate. oh how we play the game. cold soul, no sense of self-control

summary: after a disappointing playoff loss, brady reappears on your doorstep eight months after he ended things. and he has nothing on his mind but taking out his frustrations by having you desperate and keening for him once again. however, you aren't about to submit without a fight. song inspo: NFWB by Hozier & Rats by Motionless in White word count: 5.1kwarnings: feminine reader. smut! hair pulling, fingering, unprotected penetration, spanking, slight choking, oral (m receiving), and - as always - a healthy amount of dirty talk. plus somewhat toxic and insanely cocky brady. Disclaimer: Reading/creating content for married players isn’t for everyone. Please don’t read if you don’t vibe with it, but don’t attack me or others!

Sadness. Humiliation. Shame.

Those should be the emotions running through Brady as the plane lands back in Carolina after Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. Because he wasn’t back ready to fight for another win. He was here to pack his bags and go home.

The best team in the Metro. Swept. By a wild card team who barely made the playoffs.

It was a disaster, an embarrassment. And Brady should feel the heavy weight of that failure, even if he might only be responsible for one-nineteenth of the blame. Or, at least, he should feel the waves of sadness crashing over him about the way it ended, or the mere fact that it did end.

But he didn’t. Perhaps he had earlier, when that final buzzer sounded and the fans in South Florida cheered. But now, having sat with those feelings for the better part of 24 hours, he was no longer sad.

He was angry.

And so, when the wheels touched down in Raleigh and he collected his car, he didn’t drive home.

Instead, he drove to yours.

~

A tired sigh leaves you as you pull up to your quaint cottage-style home. A long work week was cause for an even longer relaxing weekend and you were ready to start that weekend by getting inside and having a long nap. Or a strong drink. Or perhaps both.

However, after hopping out of your car and wandering up the small path that leads to your front door, your plans placed on a momentary hold when you see someone leaning against your siding, their baseball cap pulled low.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you call out, ready for this stranger to flash you an award-winning smile and tell you all about how their company could save you money on roofing repairs after last week’s storm.

But when their head lifts, you stop in your tracks as you recognize the face staring back at you.

Hell, you used to wake up to it every morning for eight months. Until he ended things.

“Brady.”

His name falls from your mouth in complete practiced apathy. You didn’t need him to know how much time you spent crying over him in the last month. You especially didn’t need him to know how your heart still skipped a beat when his eyes connected to yours.

“Did you see the game?” he asks.

“I heard.”

“And?”

“And what? Do you want to cry for you?”

There’s a humorless chuckle that comes from Brady as his head falls before he takes a step towards you.

“You always knew how to make me feel better,” he says, the sarcasm lacing his voice. And when you hear it, that dry scathing tone, you realize that you didn’t recognize the man in front of you.

Brady was always soft, gentle, welcoming. It made the dichotomy between you even more obvious; you all sharp edges and harsh words and burning fire. It was part of the reason the two of you broke up.

But this Brady… there was something different. Something dangerous. it intrigued you. But not enough for you to give in.

“I’m not going to coddle you, Brady. You should know that by now.” 

“I don’t want your sympathy.”

“What do you want then?” you ask, finally taking a few steps forward, closing the gap between you and your front door. “You want my pity? You want me to say ‘poor you, poor Brady’?”

It’s your turn to let a scoff fall from your lips as you reach into your bag for your keys, Brady now behind you.

“If you wanted someone to feel sorry for you, you came to the wrong fucking house,” you explain, unlocking the door.

Before you can even reach the handle, you feel Brady step forward, his hands falling on your hips as his body crowds you into the smooth wood. You attempt to take a deep breath to calm your heart but it doesn’t help because when you breathe in, your senses are filled with the smell of his cologne. A smell so familiar. One you missed.

Brady moves closer, his body almost pinning you to the door and you can’t stop your knees from trembling as you feel the heat of him behind you.

“I came here because I missed you,” he whispers into your ear.

“And it took you getting your ass kicked to realize that?” you shoot back. Although, the waver in your voice betrays you, revealing how much your body was responding to him; his touch, his words, his warmth. Brady just lets his previous sentence continue, as if he didn’t even hear you.

“And because I know you missed me just as much.”

You couldn’t let him do this – let him come crawling back to you when he was broken or bored. You no longer belonged to him. It was a recipe for disaster.

“I think you’ve forgotten that I’m not one of those girls that would fall on their knees for you.”

“You seemed to enjoy being on your knees for me when we were together.”

“And we’re not together anymore. So, find someone else to fuck your frustrations out on.”

“Is that what you did?”

“None of your business.”

You feel his grip on your hips tighten and you barely have time to react as he effortlessly spins your body until your back is pressed against the wood of the door, your eyes now looking up at him.

“You’re lying.”

Brady almost spits out the words, as if even the barest suggestion that what you said was true was poison to him. Your eyes follow the movement in his temple, the clenching of his jaw, the storm in his eyes. This wasn’t the side of Brady that you knew.

But it was a side that you were always curious to discover. Throughout those eight months, you wanted to know if Brady had that same fire hiding within him – a passion and intensity that could match yours. And now, you could finally see it peeking through.

You wanted it to come out completely. 

“And you can tell?” you ask, wielding your words with edge and precision. “Does that make you feel worse? If I told you about all the other men that ended up in my bed?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I wouldn’t? Are you sure? You knew what you giving up when you left. Can’t blame me for moving on.”

“You wouldn’t,” Brady repeats, one hand falling away and you barely have time to comprehend where it had gone when you feel the steady weight of the door fall away from you.

Your body lurches back, the momentum pulling you until it is abruptly stopped by Brady’s strong arms, pulling you close and lifting you over the threshold. Your feet find the hardwood of your floors before Brady is spinning you again and you find yourself pressed against the door once more, this time inside your house instead of without.

“You wouldn’t,” he reiterates, “because no one could make you feel as good as I did.”

You hear the deadbolt click, the sound causing the heat pool in your stomach. Brady’s hand moves back to your hip, pulling you close again as he leans in until your lips are barely touching. It’s intoxicating, having him this close to you once again. You are about to surge forward, connect your lips to his, let your fire burn with his. Until Brady speaks again.

“No one could make you feel as good as I’m about to.”

That statement pulls all rationality from you and you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you, crashing your lips onto his. Brady returns the kiss with as much intensity, his hands gripping you tighter while yours move to trace over his arms, his broad shoulders before tangling into that salt-and-pepper hair. The kiss is frantic, all teeth and tongues and it takes a moment before Brady finally pulls away, connecting those brown eyes to your own

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You always will be.”

The words cut right through you; as a threat or a promise, you weren’t really sure. But the instant that Brady crashes his lips back into yours, you find that you don’t care.

God, you missed this. You would be lying if you didn’t spend many restless nights reminiscing on how his hands felt on your body. How his lips felt on your skin.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. The words would never leave your mouth, not while Brady is standing in front of you. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. At least, not yet.

Instead, you get lost in Brady’s kisses, your hands coming to tangle deeper in his hair, pulling him closer to you as your hips roll up to meet his. You think you can hear a dark chuckle rumble from Brady and vibrate directly into your body, sending sparks of electricity flowing through you. His hands roam across your body, up from your hips to the soft material of your blouse before landing on your breasts, giving them a squeeze, causing your head to fall back.

“Missed these perfect tits,” he mumbles, his movements against your chest continuing in response to the soft moan falling from your mouth. Your moan turns into a sharp gasp as Brady grips the center of your shirt and tears it open. The sound of the buttons scattering across the hardwood floor floods your ears and it inexplicably turns you on even more.

If this was any other man, you would be pissed off at him for ruining your one of your favorite shirts. But this was Brady. A new Brady.

In those eight months you were with him, he was nothing but a gentleman, both outside and inside the bedroom. And he was more than satisfactory. But you knew there had to be something underneath all that charm. An untamed animal just waiting to be unchained.

And if this was the key to its cage, you weren’t about to stop everything to cry over a few buttons. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to complain at all.

“You’re buying me a new shirt,” you mutter against Brady’s lips. Brady swiftly removes his mouth from yours as he looks down at your newly exposed bra.

“Gonna buy you something new to wear under it,” comes his response as his thumbs trace over the edge of the plain nude material and this time, you can stop your eyes from rolling in annoyance.  

“Do you really think I wear lingerie to work?” you quip, staring up at him.

You can see his eyes harden and it is in that moment that you realize he was enjoying this. The chase, the tease, the dare, the push and pull between the two of you.

“If you don’t like it,” you continue, your voice taking on a sultry tone as you continue to meet his dark brown eyes, “then take it off.”

The quick sparkle that appears in his brown eyes makes you think that he has taken the bait, that you might have gained some control over the situation at hand – a situation that you were wholly unprepared for but welcomed none the less. And when Brady leans back in to lock you lips together once again, his hands wandering around your ribcage towards your back, the confidence grows.

However, it takes a sharp plummet when you feel his hands drop from your frame. If Brady had given you a split second longer, you would have broken the kiss to question or quip him again. But you have barely any time to miss the sensation of his hands on your skin before you feel them grip the back of your thighs as Brady uses his athletic strength to effortlessly lift you off the floor.

You gasp, a gasp that Brady gladly swallows before he spins, tearing his lips away from yours to look around your house. There is a part of you that wants to tell him nothing has changed from the last time he was there – the furniture is the same, your bedroom is still two doors down on the left – but your lips have already busied themselves marking the smooth skin on his neck.

There was also a power in your decisions; forcing him to find his way through your space all while doing your best to distract him. And it seems to be working as you feel Brady’s pulse shudder underneath your mouth.

You feel him take a lurching turn right and a slight flash of confusion runs through you until you feel his body lowering. The soft material of your couch hits your knees and the skirt you had on flows out around you as you now straddle Brady.

“Forgot where the bedroom was?” you chirp into his neck, feeling his desperate hands return to your torso as he removes the tattered remains of your blouse from your waistband.

It seems that it takes a minute for your words to register but when they do, Brady’s hand lifts to tangle in your hair. Another gasp escapes from your chest as his fingers tighten before pulling your head away from his neck. He quickly reverses the roles, his own lips moving to your newly exposed throat, your breath transforming from gasps to soft sighs as his mouth works against your skin.

“Who says I’m not going to take you there after I’m done here?”

“Who says I would let you back into my bed anyway?” you retort to keep some semblance of control.

Your pathetic attempt is clearly read by Brady, who makes you falter once again as the hand not tangled in your hair effortlessly unclasps your bra. His lips depart from your neck as he helps slide the material down your arms, throwing it carelessly somewhere in the room. You both hate and love the smirk that appears on his face as he takes in your heaving chest, your pebbled nipples. His dark eyes dart back up to you briefly before he is tugging you into him for another animalistic kiss.

“Seems that you like it so far,” he whispers into your open mouth before he pulls away again, lifting your body upright and pulling you closer. “I’ll take my chances.”

You wish that you could say something back, something to knock his arrogant confidence down a peg but your mind goes blank as his lips move to your collarbone, leaving faint hickeys against the taut skin before moving down to your chest. His lips close around one of your nipples, tongue moving to tease the sensitive peak as his hands rest on your ribcage, his thumbs running across the delicate skin on the underside of your breasts. Your hands fly to the back of his head, keeping him close and you can feel his lips curl against your skin. The action both turns you on and pisses you off, a combination that you weren’t sure could even work until now.

You fly into action, hands moving down to grip the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, tugging at the material and pulling it upward before he finally breaks away to help you remove the shirt entirely, tossing it away to join your clothes on the living room floor.

His lips return to your chest, moving to leave no skin unmarred with his love bites as your hands drop to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle in silent encouragement. Brady’s hands lower before coming to grip your ass and you gasp as he pulls you forward, the action causing your hips to roll. You both let out moans at the sensation of you grinding against him and it turns you on more to feel his erection against your core.

“And here I thought I was the masochist,” you joke, moving your hips of your own volition, pressing deeper into him. The grunt that your actions pull from his chest has you grinning. “Who’d know you get this hard from getting your ass kicked?”

You must’ve struck a nerve, prodded at the memory he came here to forget, because the only thing you hear in response is what could best be described as a growl before he lifts you off of his lap enough to slip out from underneath you. Your brain recognizes the weight of his body disappearing from the couch and you attempt to turn, just to keep your eyes locked on him but Brady doesn’t give you a chance.

His large hand finds the space between your shoulder blades and pushes you forward, your torso falling until your chest meets the back cushions. You can’t stop the gasp that falls, your arms lifting over the edge of the couch as your back arches, your hips pressing back towards Brady now looming behind you.

A dark chuckle echoes throughout the room in response to your actions as he pulls the material of your skirt over your hips, exposing more of your body to him. He doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even bother removing your underwear, instead choosing to move it to the side before he slips two fingers into your already soaked core.  

You let out a moan, your head falling forward as Brady’s hand moves, winding you up and my God, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the feeling. His thumb quickly finds your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves and you can’t stop the way your body responds to his movements.

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs. “You have no right to that attitude when you’re this fucking desperate for me.”

He emphasizes his words with a curl of his fingers, the tips grazing your g-spot and the combined sensation of his hands skillfully moving against you almost has you falling over the edge. Brady doesn’t give you your satisfaction that easily though as he removes his fingers from your core. You whimper at the loss, listening intently to Brady’s movements behind you, impatient to feel him once more.

Brady doesn’t leave you wanting for long as you hear the rustle of his pants hitting the floor and before you can blink, you feel his hands practically tear your panties down your legs before he enters you in one swift, harsh motion.

The moans that you both let out are delicious and desperate. You whine as you move your hips back, pushing him impossibly deeper. Brady groans, his hands quickly finding purchase on your hips, gripping you tight before he begins to move.

“Oh god,” you moan out as Brady fucks into you with quick hard thrusts, showing no mercy, your ass rippling every time it meets his hips. You are grateful for the couch cushions in front of you, helping to support your upper body as your fingers dig into the fabric so deeply that an irrational part of you worries you might tear it.

“Not God, sweetheart. Just me,” Brady replies, his movements barely faltering. “Come on, say my name.”

You wish you could tell him to fuck off, make a quip about his cocky attitude but your mouth doesn’t seem able to form the words or any words for that matter. The only thing you want is for him to continue. A sharp smack against your ass jolts your body forward and your head whips around in surprise, eyes connecting to Brady.

“Say. My. Name,” he repeats, now more command than anything else, every word punctuated by another spank and you are helpless to comply.

“Brady,” you whine, your desperation painted on every letter, your eyes staying locked on him, drinking in his reaction. He groans, his teeth coming to bite his lower lip, his gaze dropping from your face to connect to where his cock disappears into your pussy.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart.”  

His quiet encouragement is all you need to continue moaning his name over and over. One of his hands falls from your hips to join yours in gripping the back of the couch, his body now completely covering yours, the new leverage only increasing the strength in which Brady thrusts into you. Your head falls to rest against the back cushion, the sounds of your staccato whimpers and breathy curses filling the living room along with the continuous depraved slapping of skin against skin.

You whine as you feel his hand disappear from your hip and slowly trace up your body, the softness of his touch a sharp contrast. The gentleness doesn’t last long and your whine turns into a gasp as Brady’s large hand wraps around your throat, pulling your head upwards.

“Keep saying my name,” he says, his hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear. “Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

“You are, Brady.”

“Yeah? Can anyone else fuck you like I can?”

“No. Only you.”

“That’s right. Only me,” he growls in satisfaction, emphasizing his words with his rhythm.

“Fuck, Brady, please,” you plead, your voice strained from how much focus it took to pry the words from your mouth. “I’m close.”

“Well then, come on sweetheart. Touch yourself. Remind me how good it feels when you cum on my cock.”

The speed in which your hand falls is reckless, frantic to get that additional pressure that you were craving. As soon as your fingers press against your clit, your head falls back against Brady’s shoulder in relief. His praise is muffled against your skin as he peppers your shoulder with kisses, only interrupted by quiet curses as he feels your core flutter.

It is hot, so unbelievably hot – how he’s fucking you, how he’s holding you – that it doesn’t take long for you to finally fall over the precipice, your own hand faltering against you as your orgasm rocks through your body. A groan falls from Brady as he feels you clench around him; a groan that he muffles by sinking his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, the additional sensation causing you to moan louder, hips rocking back against him as his motions halt.

The haze that pricked at the corner of your eyes slowly dissipates and you can feel Brady’s hand fall from your neck. The cool air cascades over your back as Brady lifts himself away from you causing goosebumps to appear. A small whimper escapes when you feel him remove himself from your core and steps away. The submissive part of your mind, still in control, panics in fear that he might leave. But the concern is short lived as Brady sits down next to you, pulling you back into his lap.

He wastes no time capturing you in another kiss, stealing any remaining breath from your lungs. Brady attempts to break the kiss but you don’t let him, hands lifting to cup his jaw and pulling him deeper into the kiss. He doesn’t resist and allows you to continue to kiss him, his own arms wrapping around your body.

Eventually your hands move, trailing down his throat, dancing over his chest and you smile against his lips as you feel his abs tighten in response to your fingers sinking lower until they finally reach the desired destination.

You gently take his still hard length in your hand and stroke him a few times, which was easy to do with your prior release clinging to the silky-smooth skin. You grin as you feel the vibrations of Brady’s soft moan in response to your ministrations. The cloud of your orgasm had lifted and, in its absence, your own confidence returned.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” you question, only moving far enough away to ask, your lips brushing against his occasionally. Brady doesn’t respond; you knew he wouldn’t. He had worked too hard to give up the dominance he held over you so easily. But you weren’t deterred.

You kiss him deeply one more time before your lips follow the path your hands previously traced: down his throat, over his collarbones, across his chest. An occasional moan and curse fall from Brady as you continue your descent and you grin, knowing that his resolve was slowly cracking. Your body moves, shuffling from being perched on top of his lap to kneel on the plush carpet between his thighs. Brady’s eyes are needy when your own eyes dart up to meet his stare. Your hand strokes him again but you make no attempt to put your mouth on him, the dare hanging clearly in the air.

“Baby, please,” Brady finally speaks, his hips punching upwards.

“Who’s fucking desperate now?” you quip, unable to contain your excitement at regaining the upper hand. Your jaw drops open in surprise as Brady’s hand darts out, grabbing your neck once more, his eyes growing dark.

“You want to repeat that sweetheart?” he asks, that dominant energy rolling off him again. Except this time, it doesn’t make you back down. Instead, it just spurs you on, that heat and elation as it returns – the battle, the chase. Your dropped jaw just morphs into a wicked grin and you are ecstatic to see a similar smirk twist onto Brady’s lips; a quiet confirmation that he was still enjoying the newfound push and pull between you two.

“Come on Brady. Admit it. You are just as desperate for me as I am for you,” you explain, your voice dipping again into your lower sultry timbre. “Tell me, do any of those other girls have a mouth like mine?”

You flatten your tongue against his shaft and lick a bold stripe up his length before moving your lips to leave a lingering teasing kiss on the head. Brady groans, his head falling back as his hand moves from your neck to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer in an attempt for you to fully wrap your lips around him.

“No one can fuck me like you can?” you continue, hand wrapping around his cock. “Well, you’ll never find someone who can give better head than I can.”

You don’t give him any chance to respond as you surge forward, finally taking him into your wet mouth. Your tongue traces every vein that you could feel as your hand moves against the rest of him. Brady’s moans sounding from above fuel you and you continue to work your sinful magic against his skin.

It may have been months since you two were in this particular position but you feel like a part of you will remember everything about Brady, including all the spots that make him groan and twitch and throb. Your lips move to suck on the tip, teasing the area where the head meets the shaft with your tongue.

“Fuck,” Brady curses, his hips jumping causing his cock to thrust into your mouth. You gag a little before withdrawing – not completely but only enough to catch your breath. Your eyes dart to his and find that he is already staring at you, his salt-and-pepper hair falling over his forehead. The moan you release at the sight vibrates around Brady causing an identical moan to escape him. You inhale deeply before lowering your head, relaxing your throat until the entirety of his cock is nestled in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at that,” he groans, his fingers twisting in your hair. You move, shallowly bobbing your head as you feel him pulse against your tongue, a tell-tale sign he was getting close. The assumption was only confirmed by the next word Brady spoke. “Fuck, baby, gonna cum.”

You pull your mouth from him, replacing it quickly with your hand and continuing the pace you had set.

“I won’t waste a drop,” you say, keeping your eyes locked to his as you wrap your lips around him once again, your hands moving to the side his thighs and pressing your fingertips up into them. Brady understands your silent request, hand once again tightening in your hair as he moves his hips upward, taking control.

“Yeah? You going to swallow it all like a good girl?”

You nod your head, keeping your mouth open and accepting everything he gives, moaning against his skin as he increases his pace. It’s only a few more moments before Brady throws his head back against the couch cushions, a long groan emulating from his chest as his own orgasm hits. You feel his cum hit the back of your throat and you greedily pull him deeper, determined to keep your word.

You let Brady collect himself and take a few deep breaths before you slowly raise your head, sliding off of his cock. You wait until his eyes connect to yours before you swallow, releasing a satisfied exhale afterwards. You can’t help but make a show of it, licking your lips before opening your mouth to show him that you indeed didn’t let anything go to waste.

Brady grins, a smile which you quickly mirror before his hands are on your body, hauling you off the floor and back into his lap. Your lips connect and you sigh, savoring the euphoric glow that surrounded the two of you. The two of you continue to make out for a few minutes, relaxing before you pull away, looking down at Brady.

“D’you feel better?” you joke, the remembrance of why he came to your house in the first place – and what it all meant now – nagging in the back of your mind. You aren’t sure if you can see sadness lingering on the corners of Brady’s smile as his hand runs soothing circles across your spine.

“A little.”

“Need anything else?”

“Maybe a shower,” he replies, looking up at you with those brown eyes that always made you weak. A sparkle that spells nothing but trouble for you flashes in his irises as his smile turns into a wicked smirk. “And perhaps a round two, starting with my head buried between your thighs.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” you breathlessly chuckle, your head shaking in playful disbelief as your tear your gaze from his.

“I just know what I want.”

“Which is?”

“You.”

His quiet declaration has your head turning back to him, connecting your eyes once again. The emotions displayed in his own stare are unfathomable and you know that this isn’t the place to attempt to decipher them. You don’t have time to unwind and unravel the mess that defined you and Brady’s connection: your prior relationship, the subsequent break-up, and everything that happened today.

So, instead, you gently climb from Brady’s lap, standing upright before stretching out your hand towards him. He accepts your offer and you help lift him off the sofa before dragging him down the hallway to the second door on the left, back into your bed.

Like he always belonged there.

Like he never left.

a/n: no tricks here. just a sweet treat in the form of long- awaited Brady Skjei smut. technically it's a continuation of this blurb, but i just combined the original and the addition into one fic for you all. enjoy and happy halloween.

tagging the skjei-sy sluts (affectionate) who asked for a continuation + a few others I think would appreciate this: @smileysvech @pyotrkochetkov @cellythefloshie @comphy-and-cozy @laurenairay

sign up for my taglist here! support my work through Ko-fi here!

[chappcdlips]

//   (  aldis hodge .  cis man  .  he/him  )  .    ⸻  cyrus cromwell ,  a  thirty-eight  year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  for  ten months (but grew up there) .  the  magnet  is  known  for  being  charismatic  and vain  and  is  often  associated  with  caffeine fueled days, loud laughter in quiet places, displeasure hidden behind a dazzling smile  .  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  a teacher at red creek k-12  word  travels  fast  .  it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that  redacted  . 

STATS

full name: cyrus carson cromwell   hometown: red creek, mi   sexuality: closeted bisexual  birthday: may 23   zodiac: gemini sun, sagittarius moon, sagittarius rising  height: 6’2”  languages spoken: english, arabic, mandarin, russian, spanish, conversational french and german marital status: married children: 2, zeke (8) and lily (6)  traits: charismatic, intelligent, driven, vain, manipulative, sycophantic

BACKGROUND

second oldest of the cromwell family, cyrus always knew he was expected to achieve great things

while he helped tori with their younger siblings sometimes, he spent a lot of time out of the house with his friends

he was popular at school and super involved in the red creek community, star of the high school basketball team, class vice president his senior year, valedictorian — his list of accolades is long

when he graduated, he immediately got tf out of red creek, attending stanford

he majored in political science and linguistics with a minor in international relations, eyes on a job with the UN eventually

when he graduated, he moved to europe and then continued to move around the world, working as a translator at various embassies and UN facilities

somewhere in there he met his wife (submitting as a wc... *eyes*) and they had two kids

but about a year ago REDACTED happened and cy shortly after moved his family back to red creek very abruptly

now he's working as a teacher at his alma mater, teaching government to high school seniors and probably is a language tutor on the side for anyone who wants to learn a language he knows; he claims he just wanted to "slow down" but... yeah, that's not really true... ANYWAY!

PERSONALITY AND FUN FACTS tw brief mention of internalized biphobia

kind of an egomaniac, thinks he is god's gift to this earth (and maybe he is idk)

he knows he's hot

very protective of his siblings and family and anyone he cares about

very charismatic, easily commands and keeps a room's attention and LOVES it

was absolutely a ladies man in high school and college, dated a lot before meeting his wife; recent conflict with his wife probably has him being a little flirty when he shouldn't //: men smh

is bisexual but insecure about it and very much tries not to let people know that as he's always kind of felt pressure to be the typical big, strong Man of the House, especially because his parents weren't around a lot he's always wanted to fit the picture perfect image he was "meant for" which only included heterosexuality in his mind

hates navy blue, refuses to wear anything in that color

has an insane workout routine and is in the process of constructing a guest house in his backyard just for a gym space (not very handy like That, so someone please come help him build it)

does not feel guilty about getting tf out of red creek as soon as he could, doesn't feel guilty about most things he does even if they're somewhat questionable????

fake as fuck, even if he hates you he will smile at you like (((:

the murders scared him as a kid since he was around 13 but now he kinda thinks the whole resurgence/boogeyman returning theory is bullshit; he was friends with one of heather's siblings and saw firsthand the kind of grief people were going through, so now he thinks people are bringing it back as a story to scare the young people in town

character inspo: mr. incredible (the incredibles), steve (the haunting of hill house), patrick bateman (american psycho), mouth (the goonies), fitz (scandal)

[theaawalker]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ A QUICK WIPS OVERVIEW.

Hello! If you don't know me yet, my name is A.A. Walker, and I'm the author of 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀. I'm also a tortured artist who's struggling to find a new job in this economy, but that's for another day. I’m very excited to share my dear projects with the world, but mostly YOU!

These introductions will be brief, but each work-in-progress (WIP) will receive a thorough and detailed post when it's time. The projects are listed in the order of occurrence and when I'll be posting about them, except for the first WIP.

As disclaimer, most of these are fantasy but have marks of philosophy (i.e. existentialism), bildungsroman, and adventure. In my works, I tackle mental health, identity, the psychic apparatus (id, ego, and superego), interpersonal relationships, spirituality, empiricism, generational curses, and our connection to the unknown. In addition, triggering topics such as SA, suicide, child/family abuse, systemic oppression, cult life, and more are depicted. Please heed this going forward, as some subjects might be alluded to in my wip blog.

It will be 12 years in October that I have been developing this series, spawned from a dream I had at eight years old. These stories have been with me ever since, and matured as I have. Each novel was created from different periods of my life, dating back to 2012. I intend to share these literary masterpieces in the 2030s, but for now... I'll keep at the puzzle which is writing characters that are gayer than I am.

Now onward, my friends! To the WIPs!

VOLUME 1

— revised the first act — multi-pov — a young prince chosen to save the world from an ancient evil must [leave his kingdom, travel infinite realms] and unite a team of seven young guardians, confronting both external threats and the internal doubts of his reluctant allies about the worthiness of their mission. — contains philosophical convos around a bonfire, teens with magic, supernatural creatures, and eight clashing personalities. — “‘Besides, the world’s gonna end anyway. Mass murders, overpopulation, pollution, crashing economies, global warming, climate change. People are already destroying the world. Do you think they want to save it? No. Why should [we]? Why postpone the inevitable?’”

VOLUME 2

— will continue draft starting dec. 25th — multi-pov — seven guardians, led by a young prince, must retrieve a powerful, magical artifact from the babylonian New World City, battling both fantastical creatures, a hidden malevolence, and crossing paths with tainted outcasts that challenge the guardians' convictions and heroism. — tackles pillars of the patriarchy, powers dynamics, true crime with metahuman elements, and the similarities of cultists and politicians — “‘Are you sure you're the heroes in this stories?’”

inspo creds to yourpenpaldee♡

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ THE END (for now).

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[reevezs]

//closed starter for @pleinsdemuses

He couldn't tell how it all started and whose idea it was, he didn't remember how they had managed to put this group together. After a few weeks and thousands of messages in a constantly growing group chat, they were finally ready. The group of eight people who would be responsible for different aspects of the game met not so far from their destination. The hospital's building was still hidden behind the trees and they wouldn't see it almost until the last moment before they reached the fence with a big sign that read Do Not Enter. A sign they would obviously ignore. The next thing they would notice had to be the building's beautiful Tudor Gothic architecture, breathtaking but eerie, and a forgotten maze of roses and boxwoods that once looked impeccable to greet the patients. But that's obviously not what they all crossed the country for.

"It's gonna be fun, can't fail at making a game you have lived, right?" One of the guys mused as they started their little hike to the hospital. "Go to a haunted place, spend a night there... I mean, what better way to get the inspo?"

That guy was responsible for the sound effects and music and was more excited than anyone else; the fifth person to join the original trio along with a certain someone who made the blue-haired programmer opt out. In the proggramer's defense, working with someone who happened to be his ex sounded like a survival game in itself. He left the group as soon as his ex became their character designer... But then returned when a friend of a friend recommended a beautiful brunette as the main character's voice actress and she accepted the invitation.

He shouldn't have been trusted with her picture and the seemingly tiny detail that helped him figure out where she worked - he broke a few rules the group was so obsessed with by visiting her workplace and chatting with the girl on her break. Of course, he didn't tell her who he was when she began rambling about a crazy indie game project that starts with the whole team going to an allegedly haunted place. When? In two weeks, as long as they find someone to fill in for the guy who unexpectedly left the group. He knew damn well he was the guy who abandoned the ship and, hearing the voice so sweet he might have instantly fallen in love with, thought he would gladly return just to spend more time with her.

Half an hour before the sunset, fashionably and much on purpose late, he joined them with two others just when the group was about to turn a blind eye to the huge red sign that's supposed to keep the people off the property. The three missing pieces of the whole greeted the group, but one of them focused his gaze on the brunette, aware that his blue hair stood out enough for her to recognize her customer from two weeks prior.

Someone waved him over, audibly relieved to see their programmer back. "Rio, get your ass here! I thought you fucking abandoned the project again! Let's check if we've got everything we need and regroup. We wanna get inside the building before the sunset."

[fromthebeddesk]

Hello I realize I am following you and should probably get to know you

First of all, I’d like to know about your wip, and if you can tell/show me what your characters look like then I’ll draw a little chibi like version of them (I love drawing peoples ocs)

Second of all, what Terry Pratchett book(s) would you recommend the most? I know I should read his work but I’m curious as to what a fan thinks I should start with

oooooohh, thanks for the ask!!

I'll start with my Terry Pratchett recommendations: For Discworld, I would start with the Tiffany Aching series, it's a good introduction to how he handles magic and humor, two key elements of most of his work, and it's also the first series I read in that world. For his non-discworld work, the Truckers, Diggers, Wings trilogy (follows a bunch of tiny gnomes as they cause mayhem and figure out they might actually be aliens) is my absolute favorite. My Dad used to read me that one as a bedtime story when I was like eight, so again there's a sentimental attachment for me, but it's also genuinely great writing.

As far as my WIP, I assume you mean God-Touched since it's the one i post about more frequently. Thank you for asking, let's fuckin' goooooooo!!!

My main influences/inspo for it are Firefly, SPN, Nimona and ND Stevenson's version of She-Ra.

Themes/Tropes are: faith in a higher power VS faith in yourself, love as an obligation VS love as a choice, found/chosen family of living disasters, So Much Queerness In Your Face, parentification trauma and how it affects sibling relationships, trauma and healing in general, and mashing up sci-fi and mythology.

Here's the more formal blurb:

The year is 5027, and the only bibles left are in intergalactic museums. Which is a shame, because the next messiah is here and she could definitely use a guidebook. Meet Azrea Shore: a twenty-something spaceship mechanic who’s much more concerned with finding her missing sister than with saving the Universe. But when she finds out her sister was kidnapped by the Devil, it looks like she’ll have to do both. That would be hard enough even with a crack team.

All Azrea’s got is a fashionista angel, two alien smugglers in a beat-up spaceship, and a weirdly naive soldier who happens to be her sister’s girlfriend. Technically her sister too, but only if they can actually rescue her. This is going to take a miracle, and she’s still learning how to use those.

And, in case you still feel motivated to draw the characters after reading all that, here are the picrews I made for them!!

Okie dokie, that's it for now!

[glitchedgoalie]

☆ –– (mason gooding, he/him/his, cismale) who is TYLER KING anyways? ew. you don’t know about HIM, we’ll bet you want to. they’re feeling TWENTY-EIGHT and BAKING COOKIES feels like a perfect night to them. rumor has it they’re MOODY and CLINGY because they care, but they’re also PATIENT and HONEST in the best way. HE works to make a little money as a(n) (BACKUP) GOALIE FOR THE NEW YORK RANGERS. they’ve rented a place on cornelia street in the form of AN APARTMENT. GLITCH(A)/HITS DIFFERENT (A) is the song they could dance to the beat of forevermore.

basics.

full name: tyler james king. nicknames: most people go with ty. some people go with tj.his teammates call him kinger, mostly. gender/pronouns: cismale/he/him/his. sexual orientation: bisexual. birthday: february 28th. star sign: pisces are known to be adaptable, creative, romantic, intuitive...and indecisive. occupation: backup goaltender for the new york rangers. character inspo: take the best part of the scott brothers from oth and put them together, also a little bit of matt saracen from friday night lights.

personality.

positive traits: intuitive, patient, kind, creative, adaptability. negative traits: clingy, moody, sometimes obsessive/one-track minded, indecisive. hogwarts house: i know jkr sucks and we do not claim her but the she is a burned gryffindor (bottom third). alignment: chaotic good ennegram: 2w1 personality type: infp.

backstory.

ty and his siblings grew up mostly with their grandparents. their dad was in the military and never came home from his last deployment. his mom skipped town on them when ty was six. he doesn't really remember her.

what he does remember is his grandpa teaching him how to skate around that time. the ice was an escape for him. when he was flying around that frozen sheet, nothing could touch him. so he threw himself into it. he played on various youth teams and ultimately found that he loved playing goalie and that he was good at it, too. he never left the net after that first game.

because of their home situation, ty knew that if he wanted to go to college, he'd need a scholarship. so he trained hard, kept his grades up, and earned a scholarship to boston college.

he studied psychiatry mostly because it was a fairly easy course load that he could balance with his demanding athletic schedule, but he fell in love with it and really enjoyed his schoolwork.

the plan was always the nhl. he wanted to make enough money to pay his grandparents back for raising him and his siblings. he wanted to get them out of their tiny apartment and into a real house. ty backed up his freshman year, but he got the net his sophomore year and put up some dazzling numbers, helping his team get to the national championship...where they lost to their crosstown rival boston university.

the loss lit a fire under him and he trained hard over the off-season. his junior season started just where the last one left off: he led the conference in shutouts, goals against average, and wins. then, during a rematch against BU, an opposing player hit him just right and his left leg buckled, then got pinned against the post. he felt his ankle pop. that was it. junior season, gone. he'd broken his ankle in three placed and required surgery and physical therapy to even have a shot at returning to the ice.

but he did it. he followed his doctors' orders and was cleared to return for his senior season. only the school had recruited a younger goaltender, and he only played a handful of games that year. still, he showed up to practices and games with a smile on his face and was the best damn bench door opener the team could ask for. he hyped the boys up and helped out wherever he could. and they almost got the championship that year, but fell just short once again.

not playing consistently caused his draft stock to plummet. he wasn't drafted, but he did get an invite to the bruins' development camp.

ty didn't make the team out of camp, but he was offered a minor league contract with the team. he battled two years in the echl before finding his footing in the american hockey league, one step down from the nhl. he wasn't making sidney crosby money, but he was comfortable. and he sent as much as he could back to his grandparents in connecticut.

it was during his time in providence that ty fell in love for the first time. sure, he'd had relationships in college, but nothing serious. this was real. this was going to be forever...until it wasn't.

the breakup hit him hard and caused his performance on the ice to suffer. he was almost sent down to the echl again. but ty buckled down, strung together a few good games, and helped his team win the calder cup in 2022.

and then he was traded away that summer. he wasn't even the big piece of that trade. the bruins were getting a star winger and they had used him to sweeten the deal. so he packed up his shit and moved to hartford to start the whole process over.

he played well in hartford. enough that when the rangers' starting goalie got injured and they needed a backup for their backup, he got called up. and, as it turns out, the starter had to have the same season-ending surgery that ty had a few years back. at least he's benefiting from it this time!

so ty's been in new york for a couple of months now and is still trying to find his footing. it's not really the same as small-town providence, but...he thinks he likes it.

connections.

roommates! i put ty in hits different partially so he'd have some built in connections. give me the ragtag group of roommates that become family because they're all sort of hopeless romantics...or hate love, actually.

the ex that caused him to spiral. i have a juicy idea that this may have been a former teammate. ty was traded in the off-season last summer and had been playing with the rangers' ahl affiliate in hartford. could have been a teammate from his previous team in providence, with hartford, or just someone involved with either of those teams (social media manager, reporter, play-by-play person) who has recently gotten a job with the big club, too, and moved to nyc. awkward.

he's got a sort of thing going on with muse b from glitch, but i would love something like a PR relationship or even something that spawns from a sort of...charity auction. think the boytoy auction from one tree hill (aka bid to win a date with a player).

teammates or other people affiliated with the rangers! social media crew, coaching staff, play-by-play! or even just other people who use the practice space. figure skaters, speed skaters, etc.

give me jasmin savoy brown as his sister and i'll kiss you. if you're into that.

[silentinfamies]

lee   hoseok.     he/they/them.     demi   man.      ›      spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   jae   kwon   ,   most   likely   listening   to   la   modelo   by   ozuna   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   eight   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -resentful   yet   +sensitive   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   the   sound   of   heavy   gym   weights   hitting   the   ground   ,   the   sound   of   loud,   boisterous   laughter   ,   big   ears   and   an   even   bigger   smile   ,   followed   by   eau   sauvage   eau   de   toilette   by   dior  .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about  youngest   son   to   business   mogul   spotted   at   a   romantic   dinner   with   a   well   known   celebrity’s   wife   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .   (   reece   ,   25   ,   they / them   ,   est   .   )

B A S I C S 

full name: jae kwon. nicknames: tbd. gender:  demi man. pronouns:  he/him, they/them. sexuality:  pansexual. age:  28. date of birth:  june 4th. zodiac sign:  gemini. birthplace: new york city, new york. current location: new york city, new york. residence: penthouse. occupation:  aspiring actor, semi professional fitness trainer. languages spoken: english, korean, french, spanish, mandarin.

A P P E A R A N C E

faceclaim:  lee hoseok. height:  5’11. eyes:  brown. hair:  naturally dark brown, dyed black. piercings:  standard earlobe piercings.  tattoos:  none.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

traits:  (+) sensitive, confident, affectionate, charming , humorous. (-) resentful, possessive, clingy, people pleaser , fickle.  mental health:  healthy.  physical health:  very healthy physically. likes:  fitness, food, acting, the beach, vacations, art.  dislikes: being ignored, too hot weather, his surroundings being too quiet, being by himself.  fears:  disappointing his family.  phobias:  none. hobbies:  working out, sketching, drawing, painting, hiking, swimming. skills: acting, art. quirks:  going quiet when upset, crinkling eyes when smiling or laughing, blushing when experiencing intense emotions ( anger, embarrassment, being flustered, laughing a lot, etc ).

F A V O R I T E S

ice cream flavour:  chocolate.  time of the day / night:  early morning.  weather:  autumbn weather.  colours:  colors on the blue spectrum.  music: indie, r&b, pop, rap. 

M I S C E L A N E O U S

a cherished item:  a family photo of one of their vacations from his childhood. first love ( celeb crush ):  lucy liu. usual mood:  happy / upbeat.  character inspo: hercules ( disney's hercules ), kristoff ( frozen ), seth clearwater ( twilight ).

B A C K G R O U N D

jae suffers from what is commonly known as 'middle child syndrome'. he was never neglected by his parents growing up, but he didn't get as much attention as his older and younger siblings; especially from their father. he had learned from a young age what his father's order of preference was when it came to his children - and jae always came at the bottom of the list. it seemed as though no matter what he did, or how hard he tried, he could never really impress his father. while his mother was more affectionate towards him and at least tried to acknowledge his obvious vies for attention, trying to get through to his father was like trying to chip away at a cement wall with a plastic knife.

he went above and beyond during his childhood and teen years to impress his father. getting high marks in school, joining sports teams, learning languages and instruments - the whole nine yards. but he still couldn't seem to get into his good graces with the older man. it was a topic he tried to breach with his father many times, only to be shut down or even full out ignored and brushed off by him. it had gotten to the point where jae gave up even trying to relate and connect with him. it was useless. nothing he did was worthy of his father's praise, and as much as that hurt him, he came to terms with that finally when he reached his mid twenties, with the help of therapy and a healthy friend group.

however, by his mid twenties, he had no idea who he was as a person. he had spent his entire life trying to impress his parents that he had ignored who he was and what he wanted to do. what did he enjoy? what was his calling? he had spent time dabbling in different things; business, fitness, fashion - all things that were easily accessible to him due to the lifestyle he had grown up in. but none of them quite hit the spot for him. fitness was the one he enjoyed the most, but there was still something missing that caused a yearning in his chest.

jae eventually came to the conclusion that acting was his calling. it was a throwback to his school years; when he would perform in school plays. he remembered loving the feeling of stepping into a character, becoming someone new for a short period of time, and he wanted to experience that feeling again. with an endless amount of connections developed in multiple industries due to his wealth and family name, it didn't take much for him to get involved in the acting industry.

he's done a few cameo appearances here and there, as well as a recurring role in a popular netflix show, however he hasn't had a big breakthrough role yet because he's trying to find the perfect role to select to really cement his title as a serious actor. and maybe there's a part of him that hopes that it will be enough to finally impress his father and gain his approval.

[shesholy]

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊     .     initial     .

full     name:   leighton     huntley     valmont     . nicknames,     aliases:

hunter     valmont     .     (          known     publicly     as         )

lord     of     the     night     .     (         by     fans     /     teammates          )

age:   twenty     -     seven     . date     of     birth:    february     seventh     . place     of     birth:   16th     arrondissement     ,     paris     ,     france     . hometown:     upper     east     side     ,     new     york     city     ,     new     york     . nationality:     french     -     american     . languages     spoken:     french     ,     english     ,     spanish     .

zodiac     sign:    aquarius     . hogwarts     house:    slytherin     . myers     -    briggs:   entj     -     t     .

occupation:    professional     soccer     player     and     philanthropist     . notable     career     details:

soccer     :   went  pro  at  16  years  old  when  he  signed  on  with  fc  barcelona  (          where  he  totaled   156  goals  while  with  the  club         )    that  same  year  he  joined  the  french  national  team  (          where  he  has  totaled  77  goals  to  date          )  .  

in  2017  ,  he  became  the  highest  paid  soccer  player  in  the  world  when  he  signed  a  $263  million  dollar  transfer  to  paris  saint  -  germain  fc  at  just  21  years  old  . 

in  2020  he  was  named  captain  of  the  french  national  team  and  has  held  onto  the  title  since  .  

currently  wears  #10  as  a  forward  for  paris  saint  -  germain  fc  and  the  french  national  team  . 

awards  /  accolades  :  golden  ball  (  for  best  player  in  a  tournament  )  by  fifa  confederations  cup  ,  2013  .  holds  the  record  for  most  man  of  march  awards  (  for  mvp  of  each  fifa  tournament  )  won  ,  four  all  in  2013  .  bronze  boot  (  for  third  top  goal  scorer  of  the  fifa  world  cup  )  by  fifa  confederations  cup  ,  2014  .  la  liga  best  world  player  for  2014  -  2015  season  .  la  liga  player  of  the  month  in  november  of  2015  .  unfp  ligue  1  best  player  of  the  year  for  2017  -  2018  season  .  2x  unfp  ligue  1  player  of  the  month  january  2020  ,  august  2022  .  golden  boot  (  for  top  goal  scorer  of  the  fifa  world  cup  )  by  fifa  confederations  cup  ,  2022  .                  

height:   six     foot     one     . weight:   187     lbs     . tattoos,     piercings:   batman     and     the     joker     on     the     top    of     his     back     (     something     like     this     ,     but     spiderman     is     the    joker    )     .

father:    richard     valmont     (         fifty     -     eight          )     ,     a     french     -     american     business    mogul     and     ceo     of     vortex     enterprises     .     relationship     :    they’ve     always     gotten     along     ,     often     seeing     on     to     eye     on     most     things     but     as     of     recent     their     relationship     has     been     more     strained     behind     closed     door     .   mother:   aira     park     -     valmont     (         fifty     -     five          )     ,     an     american     banking     heiress     ,     philanthropist     ,     and     art     collector     .   relationship     :   a     mama’s     boy     ,     she     struggles     to     ever     shed     light     on     anything     he     does     wrong     ,     in     her     eyes     he     can     do     no     wrong     .     she’s     the     one     woman     in     the     world     he’d     do     absolutely     anything     for       .       pets:     ajax     (         german     shepard     ,     ten     years     old          )     ,     mercy     (         rottweiler     ,     six     years     old         )

gender:   cis     male     . pronouns:   he     /     him     . orientation:   heterosexual     . status:   single     . past     relationships:

.                 

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔     .     background     .

inspo     :     wednesday  addams  ( wednesday  )  ,  bruce  wayne   (  dc  universe  )  ,  chuck  bass  ( gossip  girl  )  ,  tyler  durden  (  fight  club  )  ,  neymar  jr.     .

hunter  pulled  the  ultimate  lottery  ticket  at  birth  .  born  the  only  child  to  a  banking  heiress  and  business  mogul  .  learning  to  take  full  advantage  of  his  silver  spoon  life  at  a  young  age  .  gifts  and  spontaneous  trips  where  how  his  parents  showed  their  love  ,  often  leaving  their  son  to  his  own  devices  while  they  focused  on  their  careers  and  public  image  .  mostly  cared  for  by  a  revolving  door  of  nanny’s  (  thanks  to  mother  dearests  jealousy  of  another  women  getting  closer  to  her  son  than  she  was  )  .  when  his  parents  were  around  ,  the  walls  of  their  parisian  estate  were  filled  with  arguing  over  his  father’s  endless  affairs  .  it  was  unbearable  for  a  young  hunter  and  he  quickly  grew  a  resentment  towards  any  woman  who  wasn’t  his  mother  that  got  too  close  to  his  father  .  

the  move  to  the  states  happened  when  he  was  six  .  his  parents  relationship  had  fallen  entirely  by  the  wayside  and  his  mother  decided  to  move  to  new  york  city  with  her  son  .  unbeknownst  to  the  public  his  parents  were  living  in  entirely  separate  countries  for  nearly  seven  years  .  during  this  time  hunter  spent  the  school  months  in  america  and  his  summers  with  his  dad  in  paris  .  from  a  young  age  he’d  taken  a  liking  to  soccer  and  it  became  clear  very  early  on  to  both  his  parents  and  coaches  he  was  incredibly  talented  .  a  young  prodigy  ,  the  massive  ego  was  inevitable  .  at  the  big  dogs  of  the  soccer  world  noticed  him  ,  at  thirteen  he  moved  to  barcelona  were  he  joined  fc  barcelona’s  youth  academy  .  just  under  two  years  in  the  academy  ,  he  rapidly  rose  in  the  team  ranks  and  made  the  first  team  at  just  sixteen  .  despite  his  young  age  ,  he  quickly  rose  as  one  of  the  world’s  best  soccer  players  proving  early  suspicions  of  his  level  of  talent  correct  .  

despite  his  talent  and  fan  fare  ,  his  personal  life  and  overall  attitude  has  long  threatened  to  undermine  his  career  .  a  career  laced  with  scandal  for  over  a  decade  .  early  on  in  life  ,  things  had  been  perfectly  laid  out  for  him  ,  all  he  had  to  do  was  follow  the  script  .  succeed  in  whatever  he  does  ,  smile  and  wave  when  out  with  his  parents  ,  and  never  hang  out  with  the  wrong  crowd  ,  in  simpler  words  :  don’t  embarrass  the  family  .  so  long  as  he  followed  his  parents  lead  ,  there  was  the  silent  promise  that  he  could  do  what  he  wanted  behind  closed  door  ,  and  that  he  did  .  but  with  a  fame  all  of  his  own  his  antics  became  much  harder  to  conceal  .  dubbed  a  diva  on  the  turf  by  many  naysayers  ,  a  number  of  unsportsmanlike  behavior  reported  (  but  never  getting  any  major  consequences  for  )  ,  strings  of  scorned  woman  in  and  out  of  his  life  ,  and  an  affinity  for  night  life  that  could  put  jordan  belfort  to  shame  .  the  most  damaging  report  came  in  2019  ,  when  a  fight  broke  out  during  one  of  his  infamous  yacht  parties  in  the  french  rivera  .  boat  docked  by  a  rooftop  bar  where  hunter  was  reported  to  have  gotten  into  an  altercation  with  another  party  goer  (  only  one  of  a  long  string  of  altercations  he’s  been  reported  to  have  )  ,  the  fight  only  ending  once  hunter  lifted  the  other  guy  up  and  threw  him  overboard  .  the  guy  later  suing  hunter  for  over  a  million  dollar  .  it  was  a  point  in  many’s  eyes  where  it  had  become  clear  hunter  valmont  was  a  monster  .  a  narrative  he  doesn’t  particularly  love  or  hate  .  

his  parents  on  the  other  hand  couldn’t  hate  anything  more  than  his  public  persona  ,  noting  on  various  occasions  to  him  that  he  is  routinely  breaking  their  only  rule  set  in  place  for  him  .  with  his  inheritance  on  the  line  he  has  tried  his  hand  at  cleaning  up  his  image  with  his  parents  help  in  the  last  couple  of  years  but  a  leopard  can  never  truly  change  it’s  spots  .

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊     .     facts     .

as  his  father’s  only  child  ,  he  stands  to  inherit  everything  the  old  man  has  when  the  time  comes  .  allowing  him  the  comfort  of  knowing  what  his  life  has  in  store  for  him  when  his  soccer  career  does  inevitably  come  to  an  end  :  heading  vortex  enterprises  an  international  hospitality  company  .  although  his  antics  have  put  conditions  on  his  inheritance  ,  facing  the  potential  of  being  taken  off  the  will  if  he  can’t  clean  up  his  act  .    

started  a  charity  in  2017  for  underprivileged  kids  ,  the  park  project  .  a  category  of  people  in  this  world  he  has  true  compassion  for  ,  now  that  he’s  a  bit  older  .  throughout  the  year  he  uses  the  money  donated  as  a  way  to  go  into  low  income  parts  of  cities  and  better  public  schools  ,  start  up  after  school  programs  for  free  ,  and  open  food  banks  for  families  in  need  of  a  little  bit  of  assistance  .  holding  an  annual  charity  gala  for  these  kids  ,  where  kids  from  the  community  are  the  guests  of  honor  and  awarded  with  scholarships  ,  clothing  and  food  vouchers  .  since  ,  it  has  become  his  best  quality  that  many  don’t  even  know  about  because  he  started  it  under  the  guise  of  a  pseudonym  (  lee  park  )  ,  starting  the  charity  without  the  need  of  praise  or  approval  but  simply  because  he  cared  enough  to  do  so  .  it’s  out  of  character  and  just  about  anyone  he  tells  doesn’t  believe  he’s  actually  the  one  behind  the  charity  .    

a  notorious  serial  dater  .  always  having  a  new  girl  on  his  arm  .  he’s  never  had  much  of  an  issue  getting  whatever  girl  he  wants  but  has  a  tendency  of  ruining  whatever  relationship  he  gets  into  one  way  or  another  --  cheating  ,  excessive  arguments  ,  ghosting  ,  name  a  poor  way  to  end  a  relationship  and  hunter  probably  has  experience  with  it  .  

extravagance  is  a  personality  trait  to  him  .  luxury  cars  ,  a  home  in  the  french  rivera  with  a  yacht  with  his  name  etched  into  it  docked  in  the  backyard  ,  fashion  show  appearances  ,  sending  one  of  a  kind  gifts  as  apologies  ,  dinners  worth  over  a  grand  ,  spontaneous  trips  out  of  the  country  .  he  has  money  and  he’s  never  been  all  that  afraid  to  throw  it  around  .  

an  instigator  through  and  through  .  he’s  fairly  observant  and  is  able  to  pick  up  on  what  irritates  other’s  the  most  and  pokes  and  prods  until  they  reach  their  breaking  point  ,  out  of  pure  boredom  .  he  loves  a  good  fight  and  has  a  tendency  to  be  able  to  twist  a  story  to  favor  him  in  almost  all  situations  .

𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗     .     wanted     connections     .

i’ll  put  something  here  one  day    !

[aqxatofana]

{ Jon bernthal, cismale, he/him } Is that NATE COOPER? I heard the FORTY EIGHT year old belongs to the FAMILY as HEAD OF SECURITY. I’d stay away from them if I were you. I heard they were ABRASIVE, but they can also be CALCULATING, so proceed at your own risk.

Basics.

> born first to a doting, loving couple, Elaine and Rocco Cooper would welcome another six kids before they decided their family was complete. Never on losing sight of the little people they were raising or fostering a warm and welcome home - Nate never needed anything.

> very quickly Nate took on the role of older brother with a certain ease that was almost comical. It was as if he'd been born for it. Born to help guide and nurture the myriad of siblings that came after him.

> with the whole world at his fingertips, Nate couldn't see beyond Los Angeles. It was his home - his family was here. He couldn't havr thought to ask for anything more. An endearing concept, if so many didn't think that he was boxing himself in. He was bright, confident and had the whole world at his fingertips - and yet, Nate never felt the desire for more.

> staying, when he could have experienced it all, made all the sense in the world when he met Evelyn and within the year announced they were expecting. Two people had never been made more perfect for each other than Nate and Evelyn, and the prospect of a child between them promised an ever after that most people might have dreamed of.

> but Los Angeles holds just as many nightmares as it does dreams, and two weeks before Evelyn was due to give birth, both she and Nate's mother were collateral in a driveby shooting. By the time first responders arrived, they were gone, their unborn child with them.

> the trauma drove him to drink, fight and gamble. The well rounded, reliable man he was buried beneath the horrific weight of grief and loss. He racked UK thousands in debt, running loan sharks in circles until half the city knew his days were numbered but when Enzo Barone plucked the twenty two year old from the streets and pointed him towards the light - a promise of purpose. It was difficult not to cling to it.

> over the years, Enzo became the epitome of an older brother/father figure to Nate. Where he'd lost touch with his own family, The Family grew to take their place. His love and loyalty as they helped to open his eyes to a life that wasn't yet over. And it wasn't, by far.

> Eventually, it was impossible to find one without the other. Enzo didn't do business without Nate within eyesight. They'd long since discovered that Nate was often first to spot things that weren't right - a gut instinct that proved worth honing as the years passed.

> A decade slipped by and it became necessary to guard a great many more of the Family members, and despite his own reluctance, Enzo requested that Nate take more birdeye view of his position. Instead of offering his expertise to only the protection of the Don himself, he became the overseer of the Family and their Security team. The lives and wellbeing of The Family as a whole now entrusted to him.

> the recent discovery of the board members all dead, and Enzo himself missing, Nate is expecting the weight of the world to come down on him.

Reflection.

face claim:  jon bernthal hair color:  brunette/black eye color: brown height:  6'3 scars:  too many to count honestly

Personality.

positive traits:  supportive, compassionate, altruistic, meticulous negative traits: abrasive, calculating, dominant, unforgiving fears: a cage character inspo: james valdez (queen of the south), zuko (ALTA), john dutton (yellowstone) gregory house (house) hank voight (chicago PD) marty byrde (ozark) kelly severide (chicago fire)

[brainrot-yumm]

hello, dogman enthusiast/fellow overthinker here who owns a lot (but not all) of the books, and I have very few answers but still that's better than nothing aint it

I'm very sorry if at any point I start coming off like i'm "um, actually"ing you, I'm just having fun treating the questions like puzzles

There are significant spoilers below so I'll block it to be safe

one) ''silly and unrealistic unless they're projecting'' is crazyyyyy

two) I'm pretty sure the implication is that Greg the dog is significantly more sapient than Knight. It was emphasized a whole bunch that Greg had a ''supa smart'' brain (at least one that was smarter than Knight by a lot). And despite having dog instincts, he still is fully capable of making plans and understanding complex conversations and gestures (ex. he becomes Chief's wingman after a certain point so he understands human displays of romance enough to help replicate them) so I'm like 95% certain that if Knight's head had been decapitated juuuust a little higher up for Greg to have the human vocal chords, that would've been a talking dog. if he had opposable thumbs he woulda been the one driving the cop car.

two point five) THE MOST SPOILERS HERE. the Petey redemption arc takes a lot longer in the books. like in the book that the movie took most inspo from (tale of two kitties). they don't team up at all. Petey just watches and goes "eh, I'm evil, whatevs". He still sacrifices himself by going in 80HD but he isn't pardoned at all, it takes like 5 more books before he actually turns to good and starts properly coparenting Lil Petey. Movie just had to super quickify it for runtime reasons. So is Dogman a little dumb for befriending the murderer of his bestie? maybe. but at least it wasn't an instantaneous thing

three) You're so right he absolutely does not see that human body as his. Lol to him. But also, while animals absolutely can experience loss, being able to understand the why's and specific memories of his past to grieve over should absolutely be counted as a sign of intelligence. Also buying a doghouse from the real estate lady. Dogman pays taxes. Dogman DOES taxes.

four) thinking about it, I'm pretty sure he does most things via muscle memory. Cause the thing with Knight was that he had kung-fu skills, right? that's a very mental thing to be able to do. He had to be trained for that. So if Dogman can still do kung-fu or whatever, than either it's because there's a little chunk of Knight still left in his head, or the muscle memory of the body carried onto the dog. I'm sure he probably still needed physical therapy of some kind though, cause like, as you said, brand new body he's working with. My guy has a new center point of balance. He doesn't even have a tail to balance with, for pete's sake. poor dude. It makes more sense as time goes on and he gets used to the change, though

five) George and Harold are reading stuff like Wuthering Heights at this point. If they were allowed to canonly age any more we would be subjected to the most thought provoking psychological material ever. They're gonna make it big in their world.

six) what's Dogman's lifespan looking like? Will he age by human years or dog years?

seven) what about illnesses? How did Dogman's immune system not reject an entire new body? How did Knight's immune system not reject a new head?! Is he more likely to contract dog diseases or human diseases? Could he potentially accidentally be the best place for viruses to mutate?

eight) what would be the most ethical, if Dogman fell in love with Knight's ex-girlfriend, Petey, or Sarah Hatoff's dog Zuzu? That's a fun puzzle to think about.

nine) no idea about the food one. I just. ionknow. Dogs and people are both omnivores. Das all I got

that is all

I've never wanted someone in-universe to look at a character and go "what the fuck did they do to you" until now

(Minor dog-man spoilers but nothing that wasn't seen in a trailer until stated otherwise)

I'm pretty sure everyone's gone through the "I just thought of the concept of dogman for more than two seconds and have decided it's fucked up" phase but its destroying my mind at the moment

Now I know I'm not supposed to read too into it because George and Harold's writing is generally silly and unrealistic unless they're projecting but i'm going to do it anyways.

How does dogman even make noise?? Are the stiches attached by the top of his neck or the base?? Because that drastically changes his vocal range if it's one or the other. I'm assuming it's he's attached to officer knights body at the base of his neck so it makes sense that he can't speak.

Does he need physical therapy??? I'm pretty sure the human body isn't supposed to move like a dog's. We've all seen him move like he would if he was still normal but no matter how natural it feels we're bipedal and he's forcing his body to do quadruped. Would he have to curb his dog behaviors in order to not harm knight's body? (Note: In my eyes, he 100% doesn't see officer knights body as *his*, even though he controls it. It is one of the last things he has of him after all.)

But he does have moments where he just doesn't do that at all and walks and runs like a human should + whatever fighting style he uses. Is he doing these things off of muscle memory from officer knights body?? If so, what the hell happens if he wants to learn something new??

What does his diet look like? We've seen him eat dog food but I'm pretty sure that's not healthy in the long run for a human's body. I don't know anything about serious about biology, but dogs can't eat chocolate because of their stomach, no? So can he taste chocolate for the first time? Does he inherit Knight's allergies??

[Spoilers below the cut, but the general idea is questioning if he can be counted as sapient or not, so buh bye if you haven't watched it yet!]

Most importantly to me, because I really want to enjoy the Detey ship but there's always this question ringing in my head, did he get smart enough to be counted as sapient? The procedure was vague as George and Harold fumbled the specifics but there had to be some neural surgery from his brain to his body right??

It was cute and all, but his interactions with petey, especially after becoming his friend after he recently killed his best friend was a bit concerning in the mental department. I know most of this can be boiled down to "the middle schoolers aren't Shakespeare" but come on lemme overthink about this

I NEED ANSWERS THAT I WONT GET GAAAAAAAAAH

[txemrn]

Book: The Nanny Affair

Pairing: m!Sam Dalton x MC (Brynn Schuyler)

Summary: While preparing for the third grade Christmas jubilee, Brynn learns that her future stepsons have been bullying another student; but with a little tinsel and Brynn's big heart, she creates some Christmas magic of her own

Music Inspo: "My Grown-Up Christmas List" - Pentatonix ft. Kelly Clarkson

Warning: pretty fluffy; discussion of childhood bullying

A/N: This is my submission for the @choices12daysoffictmas, hosted by @leelee10898 and @emichelle (y'all are AMAZING! Thank you soooooo much for hosting this event for us!). I was given Day 6 (no, no. Your calendar is correct. I am posting this on the 7th!), and I was given the word ✨tinsel✨ HUGE Thanks to my pre-reader, hand-holder, cheerleader, and sergeant @kat-tia801 for helping me get this piece done!

A/N: Some characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

-----

No more lives torn apart

And wars would never start

And time would heal all hearts

Everyone would have a friend

And right would always win

And love would never end…

… this is my grown-up Christmas list.

-----

The crisp chill from the first snowfall of the holiday season tickles every nose, both young and old, into a perfect hue of pink. The sidewalks are lit up with festive lights, greenery and vibrant colors of deep red and brilliant gold. There's even a sweet hint of pine hanging in the air-- that, and the pungent exhaust fumes from the typical New York City traffic.

Preparing for the upcoming third grade Christmas jubilee at Sterling Academy, Brynn Schuyler plans an early Saturday morning outing with her favorite eight-year-old twins, Mickey and Mason, at a local craft store.

"Alright, team," she pulls out her shopping list, and begins reading to herself out loud. "Hot gluesticks; sixteen-ounces of red glitter; a ream of holiday paper; LED replacement heads. Hrmmm, let's see here." She contorts her lips while clicking her tongue. She studies her items, looking back and forth between the paper and her little helpers. "Oooo! I got it! Let's start with something fun."

With the boys curiously staring at each other, they follow their future stepmother up the main walkway. Brynn guides them with her shopping cart to a converged aisle of wall-to-wall tree ornaments, the shelves completely adorned top to bottom with glittering bulbs and glass characters on metal hooks.

"Whoa!" Exclaimed Mason, adjusting his glasses. "Look at all the colors--"

"Oh my gosh, Mase!" Mickey runs to a group of ornaments. "Dominion Royale!" Mason and Brynn catch up to Mickey, admiring the various designs. "Can we get one, Brynn? Please?"

"They're even on sale!" Points out Mason.

"Absolutely, you two." Brynn smiles at their enthusiasm. "You need to pick out one that represents you for your class's holiday tree, and then pick out one for the game room tree. Sound good?"

Mickey turns around with his arms filled with characters from his favorite role playing game.

"Oh, um, Mick, I love the enthusiasm, bud, but--" Brynn stifles her giggles, "--leave some for other customers." Brynn bends down, and starts hanging up the ornaments.

"Hey, Mase, look!" Mickey calls to his brother conspiratorially. "Isn't that Patches?" Mason chuckles into his cupped hands, nodding his head.

Brynn stands up, looking in the same direction as the boys. "Patches? Who's Patches?"

"He's this kid at school--" Mason starts to explain.

"--and his name is Patches?" Brynn interrupts, raises an eyebrow.

The twins nervously glance at each other as Mason continues. "His name is Peter, but we call him Patches."

"Why Patches?" Brynn's tone becomes more serious, more concerned with her future stepsons. The boys glance at each other again, a guilty look flooding their faces.

"He's not like the rest of us," informs Mason. "His uniform isn't from where we shop and oftentimes has holes that get patched up with another piece of clothing. Sometimes they are wrinkled--"

"And-and Mr. Hodges says, 'Boy, did you sleep in those?'" The boys snicker, but quickly stop when they notice the furrowing of Brynn's eyebrows.

"Are you kidding me right now, boys?" Brynn sighs. “You make fun of him?” Words fail her as she returns to her shopping list. The original joy on her face has run cold, and all that's left is a look the twins have never seen before this moment.

"Mom, I--" Mason starts, his voice mournful.

"Get your ornaments," interjects Brynn stoically. "We need to go."

At that moment, a woman with a young, red-headed toddler in her buggy turns down the ornament aisle. Brynn takes in the young woman’s exhausted appearance, noting the dark circles under her eyes and empty expression on her face.

"Peter. C'mon. Stop dawdling."

His mother. At her call, a lanky, fairly awkward red-headed boy with glasses sulks around the corner. Even with his eyes trained to the ground, it's clear he's several inches taller than the twins, maybe the tallest kid in the class.

Brynn's heart fills with so many emotions, especially seeing a child so downtrodden; however, she believes this is a perfect opportunity to show kindness--not just because it's the right thing to do, but Mickey and Mason need an example.

"Excuse me?" Brynn steps forward with a coy smile. "I don't believe we've met yet, but my sons were telling me that they go to school with Peter at Sterling."

The woman's face brightens with the gesture as she puts her arm around her own son. "Oh! You have to excuse me," she nervously chuckles, "I just got off shift,” she combs a hair strand behind her ear before fidgeting with her shirt. “We just needed to run some errands."

"Oh, I understand," smiles Brynn, pointing to her basket. "My name is Brynn Schuyler."

"Nicole. Nicole Reynolds," she eagerly shakes Brynn's hand. "I'm sorry," she looks down at Peter, "I'm not familiar with your sons. Schuyler?"

"Oh! Well,” Brynn titters, “technically they’re not my sons. I’m going to be their stepmother in a few months." Brynn turns towards the boys, noticing they are hiding behind the buggy. "That's Mickey and Mason Dalton."

"Dalton?" The woman's face falls at the mention of the name as she squeezes her arm tightly around her son. "Well, it was nice to meet you--"

"It was very nice to meet you, Nicole." Brynn stops her from taking off. "And maybe some time, Peter and the boys can have a playdate or something--"

"Mommy?" The girl in the basket innocently interrupts the conversation. "Can I have this?" The little girl lifts up a small bouquet of Dum-Dums candy.

"No," Nicole whispers, "you know we can't afford that. But maybe Santa--"

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," coyly says Brynn, "but I have a coupon." She digs into the pocket of her jeans, pulling up the folded up discount code, offering it to the young mother. "No one should ever pay full price in here--"

Nicole glared at the coupon before turning her withering stare at Brynn. "We don't need charity. Especially not from you or the Daltons." She backs up her cart to turn a different direction. "Excuse us."

Dumbfounded by how quickly the Reynolds family retreated from her presence, Brynn knows instantly there is more to the story, and there are two little boys that hold the truth. And it wasn't pretty.

The trip home is awkwardly informative as the boys reveal reluctantly that they, as well as their classmates, have been relentlessly teasing Peter Reynolds, a scholarship student at Sterling Academy whose mom works two jobs to make ends meet. Most of his clothes were from thrift stores or donated. He eats alone; he plays alone. But, otherwise, he’s a great student.

Brynn was at a loss for words. Her sons, the boys that she knows and loves so dearly, were always so kind and friendly and loving; it was a quality she would brag about with her friends and family. Now, Brynn isn’t foolish enough to think that Mickey and Mason were invincible from doing wrong. Afterall, she was their nanny; she is well-aware of their clever antics.

But, bullying?

What was she supposed to do now? Punish them? Reward them for coming clean about their poor actions? Force them to be friends with Peter? Would that subject them to being bullied, too?

After dinner, Brynn decided to go straight to bed as the guys played video games together. A few hours later, Sam joined her.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” Sam pulls back the covers, slipping between the warm sheets of their bed. He rolls over, slipping his arm around Brynn’s waist, pulling her back into his chest. “You barely said two words at dinner,” he whispers in her ear, his breath tickling goosebumps to life across her soft neck. As she laces her hand with his, he intimately presses his lips to her bare shoulder. “Wait,” he mumbles against her skin, “did I do something wrong?”

Brynn snickers, rolling over to face her fiancée. “What do you think?” She sweetly pecks once--twice against Sam’s lips before he’s able to grip ahold of her bottom lip.

“Tease,” he playfully growls, intertwining his legs with hers. But even as Sam peers into her eyes, he sees that the light in her natural sparkle is dim. “Okay, c’mon,” he tucks a hair behind her ear, “talk to me, baby.”

Brynn sits up, leaning up against the tufted headboard, pulling the blankets over her chest. Letting out a soft sigh, she offers a coy smile. “Do you know who Peter Reynolds is?”

Sam freezes with concern, raising an eyebrow at Brynn. “No,” he singsongs as he sits up to face his bride-to-be. “Do I need to?”

Rolling her eyes, Brynn clicks her tongue, dismissing his blooming jealousy with the wave of her hand. “He’s a student in the boys’ grade--actually in Mickey’s class.”

Sam traces circles seductively down her arm. “Is he giving them trouble?”

"Uh," she scowls at Sam's advances. "Hardly." Brynn scoffs, pulling her arm away. “Sam, I learned today that our boys, along with some of the other boys, have been teasing and making fun of him.”

Sam smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “Brynn,” he pulls a knee out from underneath him, hugging it loosely, “that’s just what boys do. I’m sure they’re all just playing--”

“--Sam, this--” she sighs, casually crossing her arms, “--this is different. I met him and his mom this morning. She was very friendly until I mentioned the name Dalton. Then she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“So, your feelings are hurt because she wouldn’t be your friend?”

“Really?” Brynn furrows her eyebrows, shaking her head as she turns her attention to their bedroom window.

“Baby,” he reaches for her hand, warming it in his grasp. “Seriously, guys just do that. I’m sure Peter has teased the boys before--”

Brynn shakes her head. “That’s not what Mickey and Mason told me, Sam.” She pulls her hands back to herself, rubbing the top of her tickled nose with her finger. “He’s one of the students that received a scholarship to attend.” Brynn continues to explain Peter’s home situation, and how money seems to be a real challenge for them. “And on top of everything else, Mickey gave him the nickname Patches because of his worn clothes.”

Sam stifles a chuckle, looking away from his fiancé.

“Sam!” Brynn grabs her pillow, threatening to hit him with it.

“Okay, okay,” he shields himself for mercy, “I’m sorry.”

“Our sons are bullies--”

“Now wait a minute,” Sam scoots in closer, becoming more direct in Brynn’s face. “I wouldn’t go that far and call them that.”

“For the rest of Peter’s life, he will refer to Mickey and Mason as his childhood bullies.”

“Point taken,” Sam grimaces.

“Now, I know it’s not realistic that they are going to be friends with everyone,” Brynn pauses, giving Sam a tender look, her eyes welling with tears. “But our sons,” she presses her hand to her chest, “they know better. They know to be kind--they are kind! I just--”

There’s a sudden, gentle wrapping on the door.

"Dad? Mom?"

Brynn and Sam simultaneously shrug their shoulders at one another. Brynn slips out of bed, grabbing her robe before opening the door.

“Can we come in for a minute?”

Brynn sniffles back her tears, motioning for the twins to come inside the room.

“Hey, buddies--” Sam pats the bed, “--come get in bed. Let’s chat.”

As the whole family settles into bed together, curled up with warm throws, the boys start the discussion with apologies, naturally calming Brynn’s nerves. Together, they discuss Mickey and Mason’s behavior, and the importance of showing kindness to everyone regardless of their background and lifestyle. They also discuss how privileged the boys are to be born into such a notable name without a single need or want in the world, and because of that, it's important they use their privilege for goodness and love.

While they chatted, Brynn found the boys--her sweet, loving boys--clinging tightly to her arms as they snuggled into her side. These are the boys she knows, the boys she adores so much, the boys she would give her life for.

The twins fell asleep in Sam and Brynn’s bed that night, cuddled closely in their arms. As Brynn savors the smell of their chestnut curls, she realizes something: Sam is right; ‘boys will be boys’. But, that doesn’t mean it’s right. These precious kids aren’t perfect, but they won’t be boys forever.

The following Friday is the big day of the third grade holiday jubilee. Brynn was able to take off from the company to help the other moms decorate the rooms and set up the tables with scrumptious, Christmas-inspired treats. Right before recess, each student took the time to open and share with their peers the ornaments they had brought for their class tree. Brynn snuck into Mrs. McAllister’s class to watch Mason talk about his science beaker ornament, flipping a tiny switch in the back to show it glow lime green. After blowing him a kiss, she tip-toed over to Mr. Hodges’s class to watch Mason open his Mighty Minotaur ornament, his favorite character from his favorite video game.

Brynn stands up to excuse herself to start assisting the other moms with moving chairs and tables while the children are playing. But, the next name on the docket stopped Brynn in her tracks.

“Peter. Peter Reynolds. It’s your turn, buddy.”

Brynn tucks into a corner and watches as the young boy timidly steps in front of his classmates. He digs into his pockets, pulling out a sandwich bag filled with silvery strands of straw.

“Is that tinsel, Peter?” asks Mr. Hodges as a few students start to whisper, one begins to snicker.

Peter clears his throat. "Yes, sir."

"Did you not have another ornament to share with the class?" The teacher continues, but the only response Peter can give is a shrug.

Brynn watches the parents around whisper snide remarks.

"Ugh, so tacky."

"And cheap. I didn't know they still sold that stuff--"

"I think it's, like, a dollar. For a pound of it!"

"Poor kid. He shouldn't have shared anything at all."

"That kid doesn't belong here anyway."

Brynn had heard enough. She could feel her heart beginning to race as her hands formed fists at her sides. Tears well up in her eyes as a coat of red crawls across her skin. How could these children be so cruel?

Here’s the answer-- they're learning it from their parents.

Brynn ran to the bathroom to calm herself down. She splashes her face with water before taking big, deep breaths. Dabbing her cheeks and neck off, she stares at herself in the mirror, noting the glistening of her own eyes.

And suddenly, she forms a plan.

Returning to the classroom, she notices the kids are lined up and heading outside for a snowy recess. Brynn taps Peter on the shoulder, motioning for him to stay back with her.

With Mr. Hodges being the only other person in the room, Peter walks back in with Brynn, taking his seat. She squats down next to him.

"Do you want to put your tinsel on the tree?" Staring at the desk, Peter slowly shakes his head no. Brynn continues. "What if I helped you?"

For the first time, Brynn finally saw the gold flakes in Peter's hazel eyes as he looks up at her innocently. "My mom said not to let people feel sorry for me."

A smirk grows on her face. "You think I feel sorry for you?" She chuckles. "I feel sorry for this sad-looking tree." She points to the class holiday tree, Peter grinning. "This thing needs more holiday cheer and I really think your tinsel will do the trick." Brynn ducks her head down, trying to match her stare with his.

Quickly stealing his attention, Brynn shows him tricks on how to hang the tinsel. "I think three strands is the perfect amount for each branch." She grabs the tip of the arm of the fake pine tree, and shows where to place the silver straw. Peter watches intently, draping the tinsel as instructed.

He timidly looks back at Brynn. “Th-thanks. Miss Schuyler.”

Brynn continues to decorate, not making eye-contact with him. “For what? We’re just making this Christmas tree look better. Plus, tinsel is not a one-person job.” She offers a cordial smile. “Oooo, that looks perfect, Peter,” she nods in approval. “You’d never guess this was the same tree.”

Branch by branch, the tree becomes covered in a stunning, silver sparkle. As the string lights reflect off the tinsel, fractals of beaming colors cascade across the room. Peter's tinsel is the absolute perfect addition.

Once finished, Brynn crawls onto the floor, laying on her back under the Christmas tree. She quickly calls out to her partner-in-crime. “Peter! Come over here!” She pats her hand on the rug next to here. “Best seat in the classroom!”

Mr. Hodges lets out a hearty, encouraging chuckle as he watches Brynn. He puts a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder. “Go on. Take a look, son.” The teacher turns off the overhead lights to the classroom, allowing only the holiday tree to illuminate.

As soon as Peter relaxes under the tree, his eyes widen with excitement at the vision, a smile growing across his face. “This is so cool.”

As the children come back in from recess, they are stunned at the beautiful sight. Their lights from the tree shimmer across the entire room in a beautiful dance thanks to the addition of the tinsel. Even the ornaments shine a little brighter.

“Wow, Mr. Hodges!” exclaims a little girl. “Did you do this during our recess?”

Mr. Hodges gives a mischievous grin as he addresses his stunned students. “I didn’t do anything.” He walks over to Peter is laying. He helps him stand up, patting him on the back. “Peter did this.”

An abrupt hush falls over the students, their shocked gazes turning to Peter.

“This is so cool, Peter!”

“We have the best tree now!”

“Good job!”

Brynn sits up from under the tree, and starts motioning students to come over, encouraging them to take her spot. Within an instant, the classroom is silent with only the sudden ‘awe’ of wonder. The stepmom-to-be leans against a desk at the back of the classroom, admiring the children coming together, loving each other over a creation they made together.

Suddenly, her attention is pulled by the classroom door opening abruptly.

“Ms. Reynolds,” Mr. Hodges whispers intently, “we are so grateful you were able to make it today. The jubilee isn’t for another twenty minutes, but the kids are enjoying the tree they just finished–””

“Hey, Moma,” Peter runs up to his mom, giving her a big hug. The gesture clearly catches her by surprise as her eyes grow big.

“Hi, baby,” she giggles reluctantly, rubbing endearing circles on his back. “Are you having a good day?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers, trying to conceal his snaggle-tooth grin. “Look at the tree!” Peter buries his head into his mother’s shoulder, her arms enveloping snuggly around him. She looks around the room, bewildered at the children obsessing over the tree. The young red-head looks back at his mother. “Thanks to Mickey and Mason’s mom, everyone loves my tinsel.”

“Oh,” Nicole’s face drops, her attention finally landing on Brynn at the back of the class.

“Peter, come over here with us!” Calls out one of the boys, inviting him into a group of classmates that included Mickey.

“Go play, Peter,” his mother encourages. As he scurries away, Nicole stands up, sauntering closer to Brynn, her attention remaining on the children. “For what it’s worth,” she sighs, “thank you for helping my Peter.”

Brynn kindly smiles, nodding at the sentiments.

“But let me make it clear,” she lowers her voice, “we don’t need people feeling sorry for us, or to write us off as a tax break–” she crosses her arms across her chest, “--or-or to make them feel better about themselves for being unkind to us.”

Brynn chews on the sides of her mouth. She looks at her shoes as a stillness settles between the two women. She knows she can’t take back what the boys have done against Peter; she knows that her words of encouragement will fall on deaf ears. Brynn did the only thing she knew she could do: she could relate.

“I was six years old when my dad left my mom and older brother–”

“Miss Schuyler, I–”

“--and my mom, a full-time homemaker–and damnit, she was the best,” Brynn glances at Nicole with a twinkle in her eye, “was forced to work outside the home with only her GED. Two jobs, barely ever home, and we still were hungry, We wore hand-me-down clothes that had holes in them.” She sardonically chuckles to herself. “Gah, we were so poor. But,” she smiles brightly to herself. “All I ever wanted was a real friend.”

Nicole’s expression softens as she turns towards Brynn.

Brynn continues. “Now, here I am, years later, about to marry into the Dalton family.” She turns towards Nicole. “And still, all I want in life are real friends.” She puts her hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “I hope today is a fresh start for Mickey, Mason, and Peter. And then maybe you and I can have a coffee sometime.”

At that moment, the women are called to help arrange the room for the third grade Christmas jubilee. Brynn grabbed her purse to store it away, but before she could walk off, someone grabs her arm.

“How about Sunday morning?”

Brynn twirls around, and instantly smiles, seeing Nicole holding on to her arm kindly. “How does nine sound?”

“Nine it is.”

------

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[nyxthejinx]

One year and ten months from Mondstadt Capitano decided it was best to monitor me closely, he knew I wasn't the problem, but if anyone tried to provoke me again they would activate Childe's beast mode, again. Apparently I became Capitano's favorite student…

A beast was sighted.

They entrusted me to go with a group to the southeast, it was not something difficult since the entire assigned group was made up of the youngest in the recruitment, they talked about the typical things of a normal young man. I was more focused on the strange markings on the path we were following. "Hey Scarlet, we were wondering that after training you could go –" – I cut him off with a sign for him to shut up, I'm sure he heard something he didn't even want to see up close. We hid among the trees and moved carefully. It was what I feared, a couple of meters out of the trees this beast of eight meters seemed to be chewing what was its prey, I could tell that it was a human, that smell is never forgotten after as much exposure as mine. Around there were cut trunks and they grazed secured in piles with chains, surely the beast had attacked lumberjacks in the area and the attack was noticeable since some piles were loose from the grip on the chains, but what caught my attention was a young woman , was still alive but one of her legs was caught in a pile of logs that broke loose, she was paralyzed with fear, her eyes seemed dead but she knew that apart from her leg she was fine, you could tell that monster was intelligent, she attacked those who they could escape and I save the one that was injured for dessert. I told my team a plan, as I expected their frightened faces said it all, but there was no time, the wind covered our smell for now, but as soon as it was for the girl and killed her, we and the other scattered squads would be the next on your menu. We surrounded the beast, I would go to a chain that I saw loose with my musket in hand, they had to get as close as possible to the girl and then I would shoot, everything had to be fast. I screamed for the beast to see me, and as soon as I did, the countdown began… The beast was impaled on a large chunk of ice and breathed its last. Tiredness suffocated me, I was still in the cold and soft layer of snow, I was very sleepy. But I was woken up by the roar of another monster, great, it was his partner. It was coming right at me, and then… Blood… howls of pain… the head… the other beast's head was pierced with someone's slash. "Ca… Captain…" - I felt weak, I knew it was something in my rib or my leg, I think I'm losing blood. I saw the silhouette of the herald, drawing the embedded sword from the monster's head, I saw him tense his body as he looked in my direction. "Cadet!" – I heard him shout, before everything went black, Dottore will surely laugh at this, why do I think of that crazy man at this moment?… Curious, I don't think of my old family at the moment, I just want to play another fun board game with the Tzarina… I want to be with mom, yes… she's my mom, I miss mom, letters never beat talking directly to her.

I know, too long, sorry. Goodbye.

This genuinely gave me anxiety cause beast??? What beast??? Racked my brain to figure out which Genshin mob you meant and got even more creeped out as I realised it was up to my imagination. And my imagination is a little bitch who loves to scare me.

BUT juicy stuff that'll give me some inspo hopefully, loved the violence! kinda reminds me of a scene I imagined o.o AND MOTHER TSARITSA WHO PLAYS BOARD GAMES W READER PLS I'm crying, so real. + Sorry if I sound a bit flat but I'm super drained-- Thank you for sharing this snippet tho, amazing!!