#let’s see how good old golf manages

[valoale]

Fellow artists

Do y’all ever find yourselves in a situation where you have managed to make such a nice sketch and then the line art just doesn’t line art because you somehow cant make it look just as nice as the sketch

Infuriating

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐡. 𝟐 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

poly! carlando x reader | read chapter one here. | join taglist

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ this is the entire intro to the second chapter. in the outline, it's called "the first strike." any predictions? well, you're in for a ride, let me tell you that. full chapter two coming soon. tysm for being patient and understanding x

On this Monday in May, you’re awake before the sun, watching it rise over Madrid as you drive to Golf La Moraleja. This summer begins the same as those before it, with your coworkers complaining about being required to attend a meeting—filled with the same information you’ve all heard every year since you first started—and, holding it so early in the morning. 

Your eyes ache from lack of sleep but it doesn’t hinder you from complaining all the same; returning employees should be allowed to skip the first meeting of the season as it’s more of an orientation for the new hires. Marco, your boss, disagrees. He says that senior employees need to be present to set a good example of the standards and expectations for the rookies. 

You’re unsure if a group of seven, sleep-deprived, twenty-something-year-old, beverage cart drivers could be described as a “good example.” At least there’s a breakfast spread. The seven of you can be good examples of how to take advantage of a free meal.

As Marco drones on about procedures and policies, your mind drifts to the late-night you had. 

Your eyes burn with exhaustion because you missed out on a few hours of sleep to talk with your boyfriends. You listened as Lando ranted about how disappointing his car performed this weekend and Carlos still seemed surprised that he managed to hold onto fifth place with a time penalty. Neither of the boys wanted to sweat out more of their body weight in water in a packed, humid, Miami club after a particularly demanding race, but you convinced them to at least have a drink or two with Fernando Alonso to celebrate his podium finish.

You may not have the most in-depth Formula One knowledge, but you know that dragging that Aston Martin onto the podium is an astounding feat. Carlos admires the man greatly, even if he pretends to be salty about being the second-favorite Spanish F1 driver. Lando respects Alonso largely as well, he talks kindly about the time he spent shadowing him at McLaren.

You styled their outfits for the night with sleepy eyes. Carlos endlessly showered you with compliments every time he glanced at you through the screen of his laptop. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered at every endearment; you believed in the hermosa’s and linda’s with each repetition, even as your phone mirrored the image of you: makeup-free, bonnet, and pimple patch-riddled.

Lando (after Carlos kicked him out of the bathroom for being unable to control his wandering hands) splayed across the hotel bed on his stomach, the love ? —the longing he has for you is visible through the pixels. His feet kicked back and forth behind him mindlessly as he attentively listened to you ramble about the authorship credit you received in a textbook for research you did last year.

You sighed deeply. If only the world knew how these two men ended the call by blowing kisses through the screen, whining about having to wait another couple of months until they get to see you in person. 

If the world knew, maybe that woman in the club wouldn’t have tried (and failed) to make a move on your boys.

When your alarm sounded for today’s early morning meeting, you awoke to the sight of your phone being spammed with Twitter links and texts with your name in all caps.

The hashtag Carlando is trending on Twitter because of an anonymous submission to a gossip account that details Lando and Carlos “getting cozy” with a woman in a club. Thankfully, the anonymous submission was proven false—with photo evidence, at that. 

The first photo caused a sense of dread to build within you. It shows a blond woman standing next to them at the bar, her beady eyes predatory as she stares up at Carlos with a disgusting smirk and her hand is offensively outstretched, tugging at the collar of his polo. Lando, who’s standing next to the Spaniard, looks at her with an expression of shock and disbelief, while Carlos only offers her his trademarked confused stare.

The second photo transformed that sense of dread into a feeling of relief, pity, amusement, and vicarious embarrassment. 

The image captured the woman dropping her hand away with an annoyed frown and a sharp glare thrown at Lando, whose disposition has switched from surprised to unimpressed, illustrated by his well-known disgruntled nose scrunch. Carlos isn’t looking at the woman anymore, he’s taken a step backward and is staring at Lando. His hand is clasped on the younger man’s shoulder and he’s seemingly trying to pull him away from the woman.

You wish there were more photos. 

The online consensus is that the woman in the photo needs to change her entire identity if she wishes to have another peaceful day on Earth. The F1-adjacent internet is clowning this poor girl about her seduction attempt on Carlos going so terribly that Lando had to put a stop to it. There’s a smaller portion of people saying that Lando couldn’t handle the sight of somebody trying to flirt with Carlos right in front of him—they’re closer to being correct than they know.

Nevertheless, you kind of feel sad for the woman: waking up after a night out with a nasty hangover only to find out you’re being lambasted on social media because there’s photo evidence of you being rejected after a terrible attempt at flirting. You refuse to imagine it; seeing her experience is enough for you. 

While it’s early morning in Spain, it’s midnight in Florida. The two men are asleep and unaware of their current trending status. Hopefully, that will last until you’ve returned home from this staff meeting and taken a long nap. But, damn, you’re dying to know exactly what Lando said that had her looking so insulted. 

You jolt to attention at a tap on your shoulder.

“Muchacha, the meeting is finished,” Isa’s eyes match your exhaustion, “Were you even paying attention?”

“Does it matter if I was?” You ask, heaving yourself out of your seat and waiting for your friend to do the same. “We’ve had the handbook read to us for the last five years. Zoning out during this orientation doesn’t matter to me.”

“¿Perdóname?”

You turn around to see one of the new hires addressing you. The first thing you notice is that he’s tall, like an American basketball player, type of tall. The second thing you notice is that he can’t be any older than twenty; unless he’s lucky enough to be so babyfaced. He’s tall and lanky, sporting sharp cheekbones, a nose that reminds you of Carlos, a pair of eyes similar to Lando’s, and an artfully styled mess of dirty blonde curls atop his head. Objectively speaking, he’d make a hell of a supermodel.

“I’m Alejandro, or Alé. I wanted to introduce myself before I started training with you tomorrow,” he states kindly, with a broad smile.

Zoning out during this orientation suddenly mattered very much. Last summer—sometime in June, before Carlos and Lando reappeared—you offered to train an employee if Marco needed the extra help. You must have missed the part of the meeting when he assigned Alejandro to you.

“Oh! Yes, sorry,” you introduce yourself to the kid kindly, apologizing mindlessly, “I am very tired and I was not paying attention—don’t tell Marco that. I’m supposed to be setting a good example for the new kids.”

He laughs, “I think you are a great example of reminding everyone to sleep for at least eight hours every night.”

“I can’t disagree with that, can I?” You smile politely, “Well, I promise I’ll be a better role model when training officially starts. You’re stuck with me for a month, right?”

“I would not say I am ‘stuck’ with you—that would be mean,” Alejandro snorts lightly, “But, yes. I will be riding along with you for a month. Marco says that I’m lucky to be paired with you.”

“Did he?”

“Sí. He said you’re one of his best cart servers and that you bring in the most tips.”

Isa snorts behind you. Without needing to look, you reach behind to smack her on the back of the head. He doesn’t need to know that your secret relationship with two Formula One drivers is responsible for the extra money you made last year.

“I’m a young woman working on a golf course. Which, is why I make plenty of tips.”

Alejandro hums, raising a brow, “Really?”

“There’s more than a few sleazy men that come out here willing to throw cash at anyone who wears a smile, skirt, and pigtails.”

“Ah, well,” he shrugs jokingly, his picture-perfect smile relaxing into something natural, “I do not have enough hair for pigtails and could not pull off a skirt. I do think I can manage a smile.”

Squinting, you survey his form, “Don’t worry; there are men out there who prefer the sight of boys in tight shirts and short shorts instead of girls in short skirts. Ask Ryan or Rob. They make more money than me some days!”

“Is this your fancy plan to get me into tighter clothes?” Oh. He’s misunderstood you.

“Wow,” you deadpan, “You caught me. No, niño, I’m only ‘training’ you on how to make your wallet very happy. If you are uncomfortable with showing a little thigh, that’s okay.”

“I’m a model,” He scoffs with a smirk (you called it, him being a model), “of course, I do not mind showing more skin; however it looks like you want to see me in less clothing, as well.”

Your mouth drops open at the insinuation. Behind you, Isa full-body laughs herself to tears. The rest of your cart team—Lucas, Rob, Ryan, Sofia, and Steph—turns to look at Isa, wanting to know what she finds so funny. The entire clubhouse will know that the new kid tried to flirt with you by the end of the day. 

You shake your head fervently, “Woah, uh, no. ¡Dios mío! I hope I never see what’s under your clothes, full offense. I’m happily in a relationship! Also, not that it matters to me since I’m not interested in you, but—you are way too young for me, niño. It would be best to respect that and forget this part of the conversation ever happened, or it will be an awkward month of training.”

He immediately loses the smirk, stepping backward and raising his hands placatingly, apologetic, “¡Lo siento! I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I assumed you were—well, it does not matter, I assumed you meant more, and that is my fault. Pero, I am not a kid–I am nineteen.”

You and the rest of the eavesdropping beverage cart crew all gasp, abhorred at just how young he is. Does this mean you are all too old to be riding around serving drinks on a golf course?

“Nineteen?! What year were you born in? Never mind, don’t tell me—it’ll make me depressed. Look, niño, you’re forgiven—I could see how telling someone to show off their…assets, could be seen as flirting. So, I’m sorry, too. This is incredibly awkward, let’s never speak of this again?”

“Yes, I agree,” he nods vigorously, “But—Do you have to call me ‘niño?’”

“It fits, though? You are the youngest cart driver we have. Speaking of cart drivers—what’s your phone number? Lucas has to add you to the work chat.”

Your coworkers introduce themselves to Alejandro without hesitation. Conversation flows seamlessly as you all begin to catch up on what’s occurred in your lives since last summer. Rob’s sister-in-law exposed his older brother’s affair over Christmas Dinner, Sofia’s younger sister is pregnant with twins, and Lucas graduated with a degree in journalism. Midway through Ryan’s explanation of how his car was stolen three times in two months, the last two new hires shyly join your discussion. Laura and Giulia are training with Steph and Ryan, respectively. You and the other senior drivers begin to whine about old age when they reveal that they're nineteen, like Alejandro.

Isa catches a ride home with you and she asks if you're going to tell Carlos and Lando about how your trainee tried to make a move on you. You won’t tell them because there’s no reason to. Alejandro apologized and backed off—that’s all that matters to you. Why tell your boyfriends that the kid you’re going to be training tried to flirt with you? It won’t do anything more than make them jealous, probably, and that’s unnecessary.

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[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Needy Girl - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

Rafe x NeedyGirlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 smut, language, name calling, fingering, unprotected p in v, pet names, choking, squirting, overstimulation, breeding kink, praise kink

📖 based off an ask: Needy/sunshine reader hears her boyfriend’s friends complaining about her being needy/clingy. He doesn’t deny it. Reader ignores him until they get home.

✨ Rafe’s eyes roll in irritation, a deep laugh rumbling in his chest. “And, you’re gonna leave me alone? You’re not gonna be up my ass? You’re needy as fuck. You think you could manage even an hour without me? Really? Please. You’d probably fuckin’ die without my attention.” ✨

2.5 K

Reader’s POV:

“Hi, Mr. Lewiston,” you sing, giving a little finger wave as his golf cart rolls up.

“Where’s Rafe, sunshine?” He smiles, tobacco smoke pouring from his lips as his cart wads to a stop.

“Clubhouse. He’s been in there forever, though.” you sigh as you look up at the pro shop, your boyfriend, nowhere to be found.

“Want me to holler at him, darlin’? No reason a sweet thing like you should ever be alone.”

Your disappointment must be painted across your face. What is he doing?

It’s been like ten minutes. How hard could it be to get a few beers?

“Thank you, Mr. Lewiston, but I think I’ll just check on him myself.”

You step out of the cart, adjusting your little golf skirt on your hips, ponytail bouncing as you walk toward the lodge.

You bite your lip, butterflies filling your stomach as you see Rafe walk by the open door, a broad smile on his lips. He falls out of sight a moment later. You can hear some laughter coming from inside as well. Topper? Kelce? Why wouldn’t he call me if our friends were here?

You foot toward the door, stopping in your tracks as you hear your name on Topper’s lips, jumbled in a mess of incoherent gossip.

“She’s hot as fuck; but, she’s gotta be suffocating you, dude,” Kelce adds through a snicker. “Suprised she’s not in the clubhouse right now. How is she managing without her Rafey Baby?“ Sure, they’re teasing Rafe, but you can tell they mean every word.

You peek around the door, watching Rafe roll his eyes and smile in silent agreement.

“Tell me that pussy’s worth it.” Topper adds. “It’s gotta be worth it, Cameron.”

“Course it’s worth it,” he mumbles. You can hear the exhaustion in his tone.

‘It’s’? He couldn’t even say ‘she’s’.

Why isn’t he defending me?

“We’re going out for drinks and cigars tonight… You in? Or, is your old ball and chain not gonna let you out of her sight?” Topper bullies.

“M’goin” Alright?“ He sighs. “I’m sure that’ll be a fun conversation,” he mumbles before taking a swig of beer. “Sure your girlfriends don’t wanna come? You could save me the hassle.”

No.

Your heart breaks, tears building in your eyes as you hear the words uttered so easily by Rafe like he does it often. Rafe’s eyes flick to the door. You watch as his jaw coils, unsure if you heard or not.

You batt your lashes as you wander past the door, heading toward the bathroom. “Hey, guys,” you push the words through your quivering lips, a fake smile stretched across your glossy pout. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you mouth to Rafe.

“Sounds good, baby,” Rafe smiles, giving you a little nod, biting his lip slightly.

Tears leak from your eyes as you amble down the hall toward the locker room. You quickly brush them away, running your hands along your pink polo.

You walk into the bathroom, slamming the lock shut as your tears wet your cheeks. You look up to the ceiling, fighting further emotion, kicking yourself for getting so upset.

I’m so fucking embarrassed. I thought that he wanted to hang out with me, too. Thought that his friends liked me… I can’t help that I want to hang out with him. He’s my boyfriend… He should feel the same way as me. Right?

You feel your anger start to build inside you, replacing your usually sunny disposition. Thank God he’ll get to go out tonight. Get to hang out with the boys without me. Maybe he’ll get to finally breathe.

Your hand trembles as you blot the tears from your eyes, taking a few deep breaths, freshening up for him.

Smile. Act normal. Stop being so fucking needy. You scold yourself as you step toward the door, tugging it open.

“Princess? What were you doin’ in there?” You jump slightly, instantly met with Rafe. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing on yours. “You okay?”

“Course, Rafey. Just got something in my eye.“

The Camerons’ House…

“So, you gonna talk to me or what?” Rafe snips as you pull into his driveway. You huff out a little breath, turning your attention in the other direction entirely. “Are you fuckin’ pouting right now?” He raises his voice, shifting in his seat to get a little closer.

You continue to ignore him, crossing your arms across your chest, biting your cheek to hold back yet another round of tears as his truck rolls to a stop. You grab the door handle, jarring it open as Rafe barks out your name.

“Leave me alone, Rafe,” you pout, stepping out of his truck.

“Excuse me?”

Your heart starts to race as Rafe jumps out of his truck, slamming the door, making your whole body tense up. You don’t wait for him, continuing toward the Camerons’ home.

“No. No fucking way!” He booms, matching your gait quickly. His strong hand reaches out, nabbing your arm with a bruising grip. Rafe spins you around, gripping your chin between his fingers, forcing your gaze.

“Think you just told me to leave you alone. That right?”

“Yeah”. You whimper.

Rafe’s eyes roll in irritation, a deep laugh rumbling in his chest. “And, you’re gonna leave me alone? You’re not gonna be up my ass? You’re needy as fuck. You think you could manage even an hour without me? Really? Please. You’d probably fuckin’ die without my attention.”

You swallow thickly, clearing the lump in your throat, your tears rolling over Rafe’s grip.

“Leave me alone, Rafe,” you sniffle.

“Mmm… Mhmm. Whatever you say, Princess,” he chuckles in annoyance, giving you a condescending pat on your cheek. He leaves you behind, striding toward the house. “See ya in five minutes, baby girl. I’m sure you can last that long,” he taunts. “I believe in you, sweetheart.”

You wait until the door swings to a close before you start your walk toward the door. I just need to keep myself busy…

You blow past Rafe, walking toward his room. I’ll show him who needs who. You strip off your clothes, letting your skirt fall off your frame, landing in a puddle at your feet.

Rafe walks into his room as well, strolling toward the closet next to you, looking at you with a smirk on his lips as you try your best to resist the urge to look in his direction.

Let’s see if he can resist me now. I know he can’t. You tug your sports bra over your body, letting your breasts bounce free. Rafe expels a breathy laugh, shaking his head. His tongue glides along his bottom lip, ogling your naked body as you press the hangers to the side, picking out a little cropped white tee and flowy mini skirt.

Rafe pulls on his gym shorts, muscles flexing tight, waiting for you to gawk as you always do. You step into the floral number before pulling on your shirt brushing the material flat. No bra. It’s completely intentional, the blush of your hardened nipples visible through the thin fabric, just a tease for him.

“Attention whore,” he mocks under his breath as you walk out the door without acknowledging him, heading toward the kitchen.

You stroll onto the cool marble floor, walking toward the fridge. A snack.. I’ll just get a snack, waste some time while I think of something else to make him cave.

You grab the milk, setting it on the counter, before grabbing a couple of cookies. Rafe wanders into the living room not long after you, grabbing a seat on a bar stool before pulling out his phone; scrolling aimlessly.

Shit.

You look up at the cabinet, your cup on the top shelf. Pausing momentarily: just long enough for Rafe to see why your snack efforts came to a standstill.

“Grab me a cup while you’re at it, Princess,” he chuckles cruelly. Dick. You hike your thigh up on the granite, pulling yourself on the counter.

“Baby st-” Rafe cuts himself off, finding himself falling into your little unplanned trap.

You stand up, grabbing your cup only, making it a point to let the cupboard door clap to a close. You step back, a little too far, way too fucking far. Your heart skips a beat as you wobble.

A wave of relief crashes over you as you feel two hands steadying you, your favorite mug slipping from your fingers a moment later, shattering on the floor below.

Rafe grabs you by your waist, lifting you off the counter; setting you on the floor.

“Get a fuckin’ broom,” he grunts as he gives you a little shove toward the pantry, his boat shoes crunching through the ceramic shards as he walks away.

Hot tears trickle from your eyes, cheeks reddened with embarrassment. You pull out the little hand broom, walking shamefully to your mess, lowering yourself to your knees. You brush the scraps off the floor, trying your best not to sob.

You hear a deep, laborious breath behind you. Rafe reaches for you, pulling you from the floor into his arms. He holds you tightly, lips resting against your head.

“It’s okay, honey. You’re okay. Alright.” he soothes. He kisses your hair, working his way to your cheek. He cups them in his large hands, a very different touch than before. His beautiful blue eyes match yours. You can see the remorse brimming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Princess.”

Your lip juts out in a pout. “M’sorry I’m so needy, Rafe,” you whimper. “I’m sorry I’m suffocating.”

“You’re not, honey. I mean, you are a little,” he laughs lightly, smiling at you sweetly. “But, I like it, baby. I need it. Alright?” Rafe’s hands roam slowly down your back, cupping your ass in his hands. I don’t want you to change.“

“Just love you so much,” you add: cheeks blushing as you hear how pathetic you sound.

“I love you too, honey. And, I already told ’em I couldn’t go tonight. Said I wanted to stay in. Me… Okay? Didn’t blame it on you.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“Anything for you, baby,” He leans in, kissing your lips tenderly. “Didn’t know I needed you so much until you started ignoring me. Don’t do that shit again. Understand?” He scolds playfully before kissing your forehead.

“I understand.“ you whisper.

“Now, co’mere,” he mumbles, lifting you into his arms; walking you toward the counter. “Don’t move. It’s not safe.” Rafe snags the brush off the counter, working to his knees, brushing up your mess.

He tosses the remnants in the trash, shuffling toward you, licking his lips his eyes hungry for you as he eyes your tits, drifting slowly to your eyes.

“You’re so sexy, Princess,” he praises. His hands take a hold of your knees, spreading your thighs wide, stepping in between.

“You… You are so fucking hot, Rafey,” you hail. He moves even closer, one hand knitting into the nape of your hair while the other grips the plush of your hip.

“Topper and Kelce just don’t know a good thing when they see it. Okay?” He assures as his rough fingers trace over the top of your thigh, disappearing between your legs.

“Okay, daddy.”

“Love when you call me daddy,” he hums. You let out a little gasp as he thrusts two fingers into your sticky folds.

You finger the waistband of his gym shorts. He tugs them quickly off his body. “Here?” You giggle dizzily.

“No one’s here. Just you and me,” he assures, drawing your shirt over your head. You grip his thick dick in your hand, rubbing his precum into his swollen tip. “You heard everything. Didn’t you?“

”Mhmm..“

“M’sorry. Shoulda stood up for you. Shoulda kicked Topper’s ass for talkin’ shit in the first place. This pussy is more than worth it. You are more than worth it,” he rasps. “My fuckin’ girl,” he mumbles against your lips. His voice is deep and thick with sex, pumping and scissoring his fingers.

“Need your cock right now,” you beg.

Rafe smiles against your mouth, digits pressing deep inside. He gets to work, quickening the speed of his hands, thrusting his fingers at an insane pace. “Gonna get you with my hand first. Yeah? Think you can wait for my cock, baby girl?”

“Yeah,” you whine, but you can’t help but stare at Rafe’s cock. His fat head throbbing, a slight curve that hits your g-spot just right. You grind against his hand, thinking about him deep inside.

You’re a moaning mess in his arms, crying out in pleasure as your knuckles turn white from your grip on the lip of the counter. ”Gonna cum,“ you moan, your cry of passion music to his ears as he pulls out your orgasm with no intent to stop as he thrusts his thick cock into your drenched pussy.

“S-Shit,” you whimper, mouth hanging open as he circles his hips nice and slow, buried balls deep, letting you adjust to his size. You cling onto his shoulders, nails digging into his tanned skin as he stretches you out.

Rafe lifts you off the counter, taking you into his arms. His eyes fall down your naked frame, taking in your curves. You look down as well, eyeing the place where your bodies connect, Rafe’s thick cock still sheathed deep.

”Love bein’ inside you...“ He moans, forcing himself as deep as possible, making you puff out a breath as you sink lower on his dick.

“I love your cock. S-Shit,” you shudder.

“Show me, sweetheart,” he rasps, drawing out of your cunt, reeling you around before bending you over the counter, thrusting back into your aching core.

“Fuck, Rafe!” You sob, feeling him deep in your guts. You take hold of the counter, his hands steady your hips, clawing into the plush of your ass.

You bounce your ass on his cock; cheeks clapping against his warm skin. Ass recoiling with each slap of his muscular body against yours.

“Mine. Fuck, Rafe. This cock is mine,” you moan out. Feeling him hit depths that make your knees buckle as he chuckles darkly, no doubt a satisfied smile on his lips as he watches you go weak on his dick.

“That’s right, sweetheart. All yours. Gonna breed this perfect pussy.” He mumbles through panting breaths. ”You’re all mine, honey. Not goin’ anywhere.“ His hand clasps your shoulder, the other latched on your hip, pounding into you.

”Don’t stop!“

”Mmm… Cum for me, baby.”

You squeal his name as you gush around his cock, your entire body shaking as he keeps you standing.

“You and me,” he pants, tugging your hair, pulling you close, back pressed against his heaving chest. One hand wraps around your throat, squeezing tightly, while the other arm binds around your waist.

“You and me,” you mewl.

Rafe starts rocking in and out. You can feel every ridge and curve as he gives it to you, slow and deep, making your eyes roll back. “Gonna be drippin’ out of you for days.”

“Rafe, I-” You pant. “I need you closer.”

“I got you, honey.” He grips your hips tightly. You look down at his throbbing dick, the creamy ring of your arousal gathered on his shaft. Rafe loops his bicep under your thigh, plunging his cock back in.

He rolls his hips deliciously slow, finding that perfect angle, making tears fall from your eyes. You’re overstimulated; absolute putty in his arms.

You can’t even form words. All thoughts in your mind shut off, but Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. His smell, his touch, his taste, the way he fucks, the way he looks at you…

“I love you, honey,” he hums.

“Love you – I love you.”

“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby… Think you could cum for me again?” He whispers against your ear, slamming his cock back into your pussy. You let out a cry of pleasure, your cracked sob reverberating through his large home. “Could you, baby?” Rafe does it again as the knot in your stomach starts to twist tighter.

You pinch your eyes shut, nodding frantically as you feel your orgasm within reach, completely cock-drunk.

“That’s my girl. That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Yeah? Cum on my cock,” Rafe moans, setting the perfect pace, hitting your g-spot again and again.

“Cum with me?” You plead, lips parting with his as you watch him fall into bliss as well. Your walls spasm around his cock; waves of your finish crashing down on you again and again as you call out his name. Rafe answers with yours, flooding you with his warmth. You can feel his dick twitching inside you, your body milking every last drop of his release.

Rafe’s forehead falls to your neck in exhaustion. He lets out a deep, satisfied breath before meeting your lips. “Snuggle? That’s what you want. Don’t you?” He mumbles between kisses.

“Yes, Rafey.”

“Me too, Princess.”

[cattonicdragon]

So like what I'm see, could you do glamrock chica Roxy Monty bonny marinette and baby with a animatronic reader built for security and has access to the cameras,

this idea has been inside my head for awhile now and i know my x reader viewers are starving so yes.

also may i say your taste in fnaf animatronics is just 🤌

also i didnt know which bonnie you wanted so i just did glamrock bonnie

hows everyone feeling abt ruin???👁️👁️

there will be spelling errors

{not proof read}

glamerock chica

the pizzaplex had many security messures in place,including security bots

not that they made the most difference

its not until after a break-in incedint that they decide they need to up their security a tad bit more,however they were already paying enough fees and did'nt want to pay another security officer so instead they went for the next best option!

a new security animatronic that was sentient like the main four+sun and moon

chica was quite surprised once she saw you lurking around,that was until she remembered that the staff had said there was a new bot for extra security

she decided to approach you abit before opening since you both had'nt needed to survey the pizzaplex

you both got along very well actually

she found it very interesting and was slightly jealous that you had the ability to access the cctv cameras around the plex

she was quite happy that there was another animatronic though,you made for good company

if she every saw a security camera she would wave at it,regardless of if you were watching or not

she has offerd you trash before,though wether or not you accept it though is up to you

its the thought that counts atleast

monty/montgomary gator

similar situation to chicas

he was surprised to see another bot wondering round the plex

though hes not one to dweel on something that isnt his buisness,so he was mainly just curious and let you be

your first real interaction is when a customer gets particulary aggitated with the gator when you stepped in

you had told the woman the whatever had happpened she could bring it to customer service,you also warned her that if she did not comply she would be escorted out of the pizzzaplex

he hadnt seen anyone stand up for him before like that

you also presented yourself very professionaly,being an animatronic you stood fairly tall but the way your presented yourself almost made yyou seem taller,you were assertive in our words and spoke without stuttering

it was a very nice manner

although hes thankful that you stepped in he dosnt show it

he just huffs and leaves to his green room to blow off steam

after making some more meetings though an unlikely friendship manages to form

he trys to perform even better now that he knows your potentially watching

speaking of that

he finds it cool how they trust you enough to allow you access to the cameras,though hes not jeoalous because he has gator golf

he loves compliments whether your giving them to him or vice versa

hes very possessive and will cuddle you in his greenroom

he will either give you his glasses to wear temporarily or will get a copy made and then give you the copy

roxanne wolf

she would be one of the first ones to learn of your existance due to her excellent eye sight

she gets a little aggressive until she learns that your not an intruder and also not one of the "main" bots

it turns out mangament just thought it'd be a good idea to through you into the pizza plex with no for warning

she does get nervous that youll take her spot light a tad bit since animatronics do tend to draw more attraction then old ones

she needs quite a bit of confirmation that your not threatening her stance and thats shes still the best

after adjusting to you though shes very friendly

the chances are very high that she'll introduce cassie to you

she lets you into her green room preety much whenever

having a shitty day? go straight to her! she'll cheer you right up!

ashes constantley giving you makeovers,with your consent of course and other things

she loves racing you and she gives you many praises if you win

shes very soft with yopu,surprisingly even in public,although its not to the same extent as when your both alone she'll still be very sweet to you.

if people have a problem with it they can leave

your very quick to come to her aid if someone is being rude to her,also having the security cameras to back you up is a bonus

she gives you many of her merchandise on a whim,your talking and she has to leave,oh wait.before she goes she gives you a limited addition rare roxanne wolf plushie.how sweet ;)

glamrock bonnie

he wouldnt be to surprised to find out tghat managment added another animatronic that was strictly for security,wouldnt be to surprised that managment had'nt told anyone either

he'd probally be one of the first ones to come up to you,having a smug smirk on his face will dramatically spinning a bowling ball with one of his fingers

very flirty,however alot of the time it usually ends up with something funny happening,so flirting but failing at the same time.

he'll lean on a wall,about to recite a very cheezy monologue of randome romantic words when he suddenly just,falls.he slips off the wall and onto the floor,whatever words he was about to say,yea unless hes feeling particularly confident he will just get up,apologize and walk off

he tries to impress you tones,and i mean TONS

if your ever nearby he tries to get the most amount of attention possible,hoping that in the crowd he would have hooked your interest

he has honed his skills of bowling and hes going to show it

if you ask him to teach you a trick in bowling he will drop EVERYTHING just to show you how to do it

he absolutely loves when you give him attention and if you ever tease or flirt back,hes like putty in your hands,oh so sweet and tripping over his words like a highschool crush

he will unironically do the finger thing where he just 👉👈

will give you all sorts of gifts

if your not a pro bowling player by the time you actually get together(if you do) than you might just need alittle more help from him,but hes not complaining

fyi,you probally figured out he had feelings way before he told you,you most likely saw him rehearsing(and failing) through the cameras

speaking of wich,if he thinks/knows your looking at the security cameras and there one near him,hell wink and do a finger gun or some other flirty action towards it,and then most likely trip afterwards

puppet/marionette

shes quite surprised when you get added as additional securty measurements

dont the toy's already have saftey measurements like face recognitional scanning features and stuff

shes abit confused as to why they would do that instead of just upgrading the already made animatronics,like you already have tons of animatronics and instead of saving money you decide to waste it?

the only reason she can think that your here is maybe for increased popularity aswell?

shes confused but also curious,the toys can get a tad bit annoying and its nice to see a fresh face around,well animatronic technically speaking.

shes intreguded by the fact that you have access to the camera systems,theyve always been so adiment about only letting the night guard have it so why do you?

more questions than ones being answered,though maybe you could answer them

she can be a tad bit harsh and brash,with a pinch of shyness when she approacesh you,well actually the likely hood is,that she'll probally lure you to her box where she can stay safe instead of being in the outside world

once she gets to know you shes much more calm

she allows you to be in her box with her if you wish,with others she dismmises them with a harsh swipe of her black and white striped arm

she likes listening to her music box with you,just sitting in almost complete silence as the soft lullaby fills the air with calm music

she loves giving you gifts or leaving them around for you

she makes the pressents that belog to you blatently obvious as to who its for,one of the toys took one of your pressents once and it wasnt a very happy ending

she likes to just wrap her long lanky arms around you,seeking comfort in your presense and just you being there

circus baby

shes rather annoyed apon your arrival

circus baby is a mastermind and also likes things to be in place,specifically in places where she wants them

you put a very large and prominent thorn in her side

im not very sure on the lore but there's a high likely hood that you were made by henry and given as a gift after some concerning reports were leaked

shes an extreme mix between being friendly and being harsh

she annoyed because now shes going to have to re-arrange her plans and make accomadations for you,who can see into the security feed

but she needs to play nice if she wants her plan to go smoothly

shes a toxic mix between the two emotions,however as time goes on her feelings start to subside and change

she distances herself as much as your circumstances allow as she tries to configure her conflicting feelings

shes a robot made to kill,and your.well ,not

she eventually decides to see how her feelings lpay out and then plan around that

safe to say,she was very wrong,she thought that letting things happen,her feeling would subdue.nope,they just became stronger and she feel for you harder

she eventual;ly comes to a grueling conclusion that she likes you and after a short confrontation about feeling and such.her plans will have to change,again

shes very sweet with you,aswell as openly affecttionate

she uses alot of her mechanisms to wow you

like making heart shaped ballons randomly and giving them to you

she uses her high status in the funtimes frequently

she refuses to let the biddy babs anywhere near you

she likes keeping you by her side,you keep her calm and collected

she vents to you about the troubles she faces and asks your opinions and what she should do.

shes very caring towards you and sweet

to you:(//ó//w//ò//)

to the funtimes:(ò~ó)

[ihearthes]

Title: Hole in One

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 3100

The sky is the bluest it’s been in months, and I hear birds singing from the trees surrounding the private course. My clubs have been unused for far too long, and I cannot wait to feel the grass beneath my feet. Spying my grandparents talking to a young man who I assume is the club’s pro, I make my way in their direction, eager to get onto the green. The giddy skip in my step is undeniably partly due to the excitement of playing the game again, but mostly because I’ve not seen my jetsetter grandparents since Christmas. 

“Grammy! Gramps!” I call, my hand waving as they turn towards me. Wrapping my grandmother in a hug, I put out my hand for a high five with my grandfather. Gleefully, he obliges. 

“So glad you could join us!” Grammy whoops. “Let me look at you.” Taking my hands, she steps back to survey me in that way that must be a full chapter in the Grandparent Training Manual. “Looking sexy as hell,” she laughs, her greeting likely not in that same manual. “Twirl for us.” She makes that motion with her finger, and I oblige.

As I spin around, my skort not moving in any way that would make a twirl necessary, my grandfather applauds as if I were a five year old at her first ballet recital. 

“Two of the biggest dorks I know,” I giggle. “I’m so happy to see you!” Excitedly, I pull them in for a group hug, wondering why the golf pro hasn’t excused himself yet. So when I step back, I pointedly look in his direction. 

And promptly freeze. 

Fuck. Nope. Not the golf pro. Nor the course manager. Not anyone who works at the place. 

“Hi. I’m Harry.” He leans forward to shake my hand, his left leg raising behind him as a counterbalance to his inclining body. “You must be Birdy.” 

Horrified, I grasp his warm hand, my eyes roaming over his face with that stupid hair clip firmly holding back his bangs and his green eyes examining me, a smile on his face as his dimple deepens. Flustered, I don’t give him my birth name. “A nickname, of course,” I remark inanely. 

“I’m just hoping it doesn’t bode ill for my game today.” His gray pants are matched with a dark blue pullover sweater, a white turtleneck underneath. 

How my mouth continues to work is beyond me, but I throw my head back and laugh loudly. Probably too loudly as I’m feeling a mixture of terror and arousal, and the laughter is decidedly nervous. “I’ve never been a threat to anyone on the golf course,” I comment.

“With grandparents as young as yours, I expected someone younger.” Harry thinks he’s being coy, but my grandmother responds honestly. 

“We’re ancient, Harry, and our Birdie is 31 now. And not getting any younger.” Pointedly, she looks at me as though I had offended her in some way. 

“We’re up,” Gramps points, and we haul our clubs to the first tee. 

“What’s your handicap?” Harry asks as Gramps swings a few times for practice. 

“23,” I announce proudly, on the low end of average. “You?”

“14,” he brags, adding a wink for good measure, an indication that he is aware of his boast. Not that I can complain since I’ve also gloated about my below-average number. He’s too handsome and charming for my comfort, and I engage my attention on my clubs, polishing my driver before withdrawing it from my bag. 

Amiable enough, Harry diverts his focus onto my grandmother, and I’m grateful for the respite to catch my breath. 

“You must go first, Vivienne.”

I want to interrupt and tell him we always go with the oldest first, which is my gramps, but my grandmother has already fallen for Harry’s charm, and she giggles like a schoolgirl as she makes her way to the tee. 

After my grandfather and I have each teed off, Harry prepares for his turn. In those tight golf trousers, his arse is as well defined as the ostentatious naked statue in the fountain at the entrance to the golf club. I find myself unable to stop staring as he bends down to place his tee, and his form when he swings is a thing of beauty. No wonder he has a low handicap. Why couldn’t he be a failure at just one thing in his life? And why couldn’t it be golf? 

Noting where his ball lands, Harry removes his sunnies from the vee of his sweater and slides them over his eyes, shielding his expression. With a nod at the three of us, he twists his body, ready to move on. 

“Shall we?” Gramps gestures, and I hoist my clubs onto my shoulder again, setting off behind the elderly couple who head for a single golf cart. “Sorry, Birdy.” He casually throws over his shoulder as we approach the small vehicle. “We got the last cart. You and Harry will have to walk. But don’t worry. Your grandmother and I will do our best not to burn rubber.” 

If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if my grandparents were trying to play matchmakers. But they wouldn’t have any idea who Harry is. Although maybe it doesn’t matter to them. Perhaps my grandparents just want to pair me up with any Tom, Dick, or ….Harry.

“Mhm. See that you don’t get a speeding ticket, Gramps!” I yell as they take off, leaving Harry and I trailing behind. 

“You seem like a chip off the old block,” Harry jokes as we hike towards the hole. “Get it? Cause a chip is a golf shot.” 

“Oh, I understood the joke, but it was bad,” I groan. “No ifs, ands, or putts about it.” 

His eyes widen. “I see. It’s like that, is it?”

We both giggle, and when he shoves my shoulder at my next golf pun, I wonder if he’s flirting with me. As if Harry Styles needed to flirt with anyone. 

It’s on the fourth fairway that my Gramps gets involved with a joke of his own. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yes, sir?” The polite reply comes as I’m replacing my divot. 

“Why do the golf pros tell you to keep your head down during golf lessons?” 

“I don’t know, Rufus.” Harry withdraws his 3-wood and addresses the ball, shaking his hips in such a way that if my grandparents weren’t around, I’d probably faint. “Why?”

“So you can’t see them laughing.” Gramps guffaws, and Harry shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tilted up as he takes a deep breath and launches his ball closer to the green. 

My grandparents always make me laugh, but today they seem in finer form than usual, as they joke with Harry, my grandmother clearly vamping. Before today, I’ve never wondered if my grandfather was anything other than straight, but the way he touches Harry at every opportunity makes the wheels in my head churn. 

On the 8th hole, Grammy takes a mulligan after her ball sails into the water hazard, just short of making it across. She sighs, pulling another ball from her bag and muttering goodnaturedly to Harry. “Golf balls are just like eggs. They’re white, round, and you need another dozen every week.” 

Harry slaps his knee as he giggles at her pathetic joke. I can almost convince myself that he’s having the time of his life playing golf with these 78-year-olds. He gives every appearance of enjoying the late afternoon game. No wonder no one has anything unkind to say about him. Well, no one he’s met anyway. 

As we walk to the 9th hole, I decide to dive in and bravely ask the question that’s been on my mind for the last two and a half hours. “Why did you join us today?” 

Startled, he twists his head to look at me. “You had three. I was a late single player. The pro added me to your party. Simple.” 

“Okay.” I draw the word out, wondering if I should ask the follow-up question, and when he continues glancing at me curiously, I go for it. “But why do you have a free day today? And why didn’t you bring someone with you?” 

He turns his head away from me, but I still see that left dimple deepen as he shrugs. “I decided on a whim that I wanted to golf in this perfect weather, and my manager was busy preparing for tomorrow night’s show.” Turning around, he walks backwards so he can face me. “But I never thought I’d meet such a fun –” his eyes never leave mine, “and sexy companion.” 

I can feel the red creeping up from my toes through my body to flush my face. How does he do it? Flirting so openly without being gross? If anyone else had delivered that line, I would have gagged. Instead, I pretend that his comment has had no effect on me – like I’m not going to need dry panties before dinner with my grandparents.

“Harry!” My grandfather yells from where he and my grammy have stopped at my ball. “You better watch where you’re going! Sometimes people don’t replace their divots.” 

The musician nods to me courteously as though he hadn’t just made my heart flutter. Turning to face forward, he continues on the pathway where we finish the 9th hole. 

“Birdie,” Grammy stoutly announces to me as she climbs back into the cart. “Your grandfather and I are tired. We’re going to head to the clubhouse and have a drink, but you and Harry should play the back nine.” With that, my grandparents wave to us as their cart drives off towards the start. 

Oh. 

Well. 

That was unexpected. 

This is unexpected. 

Harry has put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Well?” He watches me carefully, and I know the decision to continue is mine. 

“I doubt I’ll get to play with someone like you again, so we might as well continue.” 

“Someone like me? A celebrity?” Seeming genuinely confused, he removes his sunnies and scratches his head near that damn hair clip. 

“A duffer,” I tease.

“If that’s the case, it’s because your beauty has distracted me from my game today.” His eyes twinkle when he makes the comment, and that’s the moment I know the flirting is on in earnest. 

When we reach the 12th green, I can’t stand being so close to him without letting him know I am up for more. As he squares up for his putt, but before he pulls the club back to take the shot, I whisper loud enough for his ears only, “If you miss this putt, I’ll let you kiss me.” He doesn’t hesitate, taking the shot that rolls right at my feet where I’m holding the flag. And yet somehow the ball doesn’t go in. 

“Does that deal count if I accidentally missed?” 

Biting my lip, I tilt my head and observe him. “Hmmm…I’m not sure. It’s kind of offensive that you wouldn’t want to miss it on purpose. I mean, here I am, perfectly kissable. I’m going to say no. It doesn’t count.” 

Stalking towards me, he picks up his golf ball and tosses it to the edge of the green. “How about now?” His voice is a growl, and he’s standing close enough for me to feel the heat emanating from his body. 

Fuck. He’s so hot. Beyond sexy. 

I glance around the course quickly to see if anyone is nearby. Spotting no one, I tilt my head up to him. Harry grabs my chin with two fingers, staring into my eyes before he brushes his lips over mine. The moan that emits from my throat is heartfelt and demands more from him, but he steps back, his hand dropping to his side. 

Hooded eyes rake over me, and he smirks. “You’ve never met a golfer with a more delicate stroke than me.” 

“Promises, promises,” I tut, holding out the flag for him to take so I can putt. 

A few holes later, and all pretense has dropped as Harry rests his hands on my hips while I’m lining up my shot. “Are you sure you know how to hold a shaft correctly?” His voice in my ear is so gravelly that I want to drop onto my knees right there on the fairway and show him exactly how skilled I am at handling a shaft.

“Be careful there, Harry,” I murmur, “You’re like a water hazard. You’ve got me soaking wet.” 

“Fuck.” Stepping back from me, he shakes his head. “How many holes?” 

“Three,” I comment, and my eyes bat of their own accord, I swear! 

“Jesus!” He runs his hand over his face. “You’re like a fairway: short, well-groomed, and a pleasure to hit on.” 

“Are you saying you’d like to improve our stroke game together?” 

“I’m saying that I’m not going to make it back to the clubhouse at this rate.”

“Well…” I approach him, again searching the nearby greens for golfers, “...my golf coach says I have a firm grip. Do you want to see if it’s true?” 

“Birdy…” His voice is strangled as I ease my hand over the front of his trousers, feeling his length where it’s tucked safely high and to the left. The air exits his lungs at a faster velocity than a golf swing. “Get your clubs,” he commands, roughly replacing the putter he’d withdrawn and grabbing my hand. 

Yanking me behind him, Harry leads the way towards the parking lot where he uses an electronic key to open the vehicle and throw in his clubs before grabbing my golf bag and more gently placing it on top of his so that the two golf bags look to be spooning. 

“Get in,” he insists, and I don’t hesitate to scurry to the passenger side. 

“Where are we going?” I ask, my hands in my lap after I’ve buckled the seatbelt. The quivering in the lower part of my body will only be appeased in one way.

“Shit. I’ve no idea,” he sighs, not putting the car in drive. “My hotel is too far.” 

“Switch places with me,” I suggest, knowing exactly where we can go. 

With a single nod, the two of us climb from the vehicle and pass each other silently and aggressively on our way to opposite sides. Buckled in, I back the car from the lot and drive the two miles to my grandparents’ house. 

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” I state. “Open the garage before the neighbors spot us.” I share the code, and Harry follows my directions. Without drawing too much attention, we’ve sequestered ourselves in the garage, with Harry waiting impatiently for me to get out of the car. 

The moment I step from the driver’s side onto the pavement of my grandparents’ garage, Harry approaches me, his hands cupping my face as he devours my lips. I do not hesitate, opening to him as my fingers fumble for the bottom of that fucking blue sweater I’ve been jealous of all afternoon because it gets to hug his curves. As I draw the sweater up, he releases my face to raise his arms over his head, and I don’t hesitate, repeating the gesture with his white turtleneck. 

As soon as his skin is free from the clothing, his mouth crashes back onto mine as his long lush fingers make short work of my white polo. He’s backed me almost to the stairs that lead to the house, and he wraps an arm around my nearly naked back just as I’m about to topple over onto them. 

“Where?” His breath is scented with the mint from his gum, and I feel the waft of it across my cheek. 

My brain scrambles. My grandparents’ house. Quickly I discard the master bedroom and the sofa in the living room. Grasping his hand, I haul us both to the only room that makes sense. Stopping to frantically kiss this amazing man, I reach behind me to unhook my bra, his fingers brushing over my boobs as soon as they are bare. 

When I open the door to our destination, Harry pauses, his eyes widening as he takes in the golf trophies, photos of my grandparents with famous golfers on the paneled walls, and the putting green. Shaking his head, he laughs, and the crinkles at his eyes make my panties even wetter. 

“I like my men like a sand trap: dirty, challenging, and unpredictable.” Although I’ve attempted to make the joke with a straight face, I fail miserably as I dissolve into giggles. 

With a face palm, Harry laughs too, glancing at the putting green. “No way am I fucking on that fake turf. One of us would end up with scraped knees, and I don’t know if I would prefer it be you or me.” 

“No question there,” I purr as I drop to my knees in front of him and reach for the button and zipper on his trousers. “I’ve been drooling for this shaft all afternoon.” 

“Well, I am known for my lengthy club.” The smirk on his face drops away as I free his cock and give it a few strokes before sliding my lips over the end and applying light pressure. Pushing his pants and underpants down his thighs, I reach for his balls. “Oh, fuck,” he sucks in air. “I had planned to wash my balls after the game today, but you’re welcome to….ahhhhhh.” The way the sound escapes his mouth when I do as he suggests and lave his balls with my tongue has me hotter than a July game at a Miami course. 

Returning to his cock, I slide his length as far as my throat will allow, practically unhinging my jaw as I take him in. Closing my lips, I use suction until he grabs my head, pulling my hair to remove me from my current activity. 

When I look up at him, I can see the scar under his chin as he’s staring at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath, and I cannot resist scraping my teeth lightly to see his reaction. It’s instant, as his jaw drops and his eyes connect with mine. Just as I get to the end of his cock again, I make a humming sound, knowing he can feel the vibration on this sensitive body part. 

“Birdy…” he gasps. “I need…” 

Releasing him with a popping sound, I sit back on my knees and grin, rather proud of my ability to reduce this cheeky flirt to two-word sentences. 

“What?” I demand. 

“I need to feel your fringe. Taste it even.” 

Closing my eyes, I shake my head as though I’m disappointed with his golf pun, but it honestly gives a zing to my private parts. 

“Fair enough,” I comment, using my current location to remove his shoes and the rest of his clothing so that he stands before me, naked but for his socks. 

“Shouldn’t that be ‘fairway’ enough?” He giggles, his shaft pointing straight at me. 

I groan. “Oh, man. If I weren’t so hot for you, your bad jokes might just turn me off.” 

“Good,” he smiles, and the dimple deepens until I’m confident I could fit a thousand golf balls, each with their own 381 dimples, inside it. That many dimples all in the same space would be overwhelming. “Now let’s put my wood in your golf bag, shall we?” He holds his hand down to me, and I grasp it so that he can pull me upwards, our tongues tangling like a dust devil. 

Fingers fumbling with the buttons on my skort, Harry moves his lips to my neck. “Why ‘Birdy’?” 

“Seriously?” I scoff. “You want to talk about my nickname now?” 

His luxurious fingers shove my panties and my skort down to my ankles, ignoring my shoes completely as he encourages me to kick off the offending clothing. “Yes please.” 

Nude, I plant my hands on my hips, glaring at him from where he’s squatting on the floor after removing my outfit. “My grandfather scored a birdie every time he took me out with him on the golf course when I was a baby.” 

“Oh,” he pouts. 

“Not as sexy as you thought it might be?” 

“As a story, you really should work on it.” 

“I promise I’ll spice up the story with the next single that joins our foursome,” I simper. A look crosses his face that could be construed as jealousy if one were so inclined. Which I’m not. Because he’s just an afternoon fuck. 

As I start to step past him to the leather sofa, he grabs my thighs and buries his face in my crotch, sniffing deeply. Flabbergasted, I pause, my balance off. 

“Widen your stance,” Harry demands, and when I follow his direction, he uses both hands to part the petals at my entrance. Just before his tongue dives in, he blows a puff of air, and I shiver at the sexiness of the move. 

“Fuck, Harry,” I grab for his shoulder so I don’t sink to the floor. Between his tongue and his teeth, I nearly tip over the abyss, but when he uses both hands, inserting one finger in each of my body’s lower entrances, I come, screaming his name as I yank his hair, accidentally dislodging that damn hair clip which skitters across the wood floor. My orgasm continues as Harry rises, one finger still teasing my clit. 

“You were right,” he whispers to me as I gaze at his glistening face, “three holes left. Now taken care of.” Capturing my lips, he delves inside my mouth, his tongue and finger below taking turns, setting a rhythm that would do well in one of his songs. 

Fuck. I’m weak. 

When my body stops shivering, I use both hands to shove him onto the sofa where he lands with both feet out and his driver in the air. 

“Birth control?” he asks. 

“Taken care of,” I grin. “IUD. But if you want double protection or you don’t trust me…” I gesture towards the rest of the house, trying to figure out where a condom might be hidden in my grandparents’ house. 

“I trust you. No one with that nickname and those grandparents could lie about something like that.” 

With a grin, I concede his point. Besides, my grandparents would flip their lids if I got pregnant without a commitment. 

Slowly, as if I’m lining up a putt, I slide onto him. 

“Mmmmm…that’s a hole to be respected,” Harry murmurs as I descend, and I would laugh if not for the fact that I’m gearing up for my second orgasm. 

“Are you up for some stroke play?” I query as I settle completely on him, my insides stretched but happy. 

“Stroke that stroke, babe.” 

With the steady beat of that Billie Squier oldie in my head, I follow his instructions, lifting myself off his shaft before plunging back down as hard as I can. Just when I’m getting closer, panting as I look to the skies, Harry taps my butt cheek. “Turn around here, love.” 

Settling on the sofa with my rear in the air, I am startled when Harry’s finger circles my asshole, and I wonder if I’m in for a different experience than I had originally expected. He’s too big for my back door without a lot of preparation, and it’s clear he knows it as he settles on wedging a finger there while his cock invades my vagina. Between his cock and his inserted finger, I’m so close to exploding that I slam my body backwards into his until he finally removes the finger, grabs my hips, and pounds into me. 

“Drive into me, Harry!” I scream, recognizing the golf pun after it’s already left my mouth. Biting my lip, I reach in front and play with my clit just as Harry shoots his load into me, and I writhe with my second orgasm, his name on my lips as he falls onto my back. 

Seconds, minutes, decades later, Harry disengages from me. 

“That was pleasant,” he smiles, and I wonder if this is it. He’ll leave me here, his cum dripping from me onto the furniture in my granddad’s golf room. “We should probably get dressed and get back to the course. Otherwise, they’ll send out a search party. If we get back quickly, they’ll think we just took our time on the 18th.” 

Agreeably, I laugh. “I can see it now.” Imitating my grandma, “‘But our baby girl is out there with a handsome stranger! They must be exhausted after 18 holes!’” 

Together, we dissolve into giggles at the innuendo as we sort through the discarded clothing and dress ourselves, making our way back to the garage as we locate our shirts. 

“You better drive us back. I’m likely to get lost in your tall bush.” 

“Oh, please,” I roll my eyes. “My grass is perfectly trimmed for the game.” 

“Mhm,” he smirks, “Who’s your caddy?” 

We pull into the parking lot, laughing at our ridiculous puns. Removing our golf bags from the trunk, we make our way into the clubhouse where we quickly locate and join my grandparents. 

“How were the last few holes?” Gramps asks. 

“Pretty good,” Harry grins, glancing over at me. “I got both a Birdy and a hole in one.” 

I want to laugh at his comment, but any suggestion that we did anything other than play golf would get me in trouble, so I simply smile, nod, and announce, “It was quite the round. The best I’ve had in a long time, by par.” 

When everyone at the table howls with mirth, I feel Harry’s hand on my knee as my grandfather speaks up with, “Harry? I think you might be missing a number on your scorecard.” When he winks and gestures towards me, I groan, but my latest lover takes advantage of the moment, holding out his scorecard to me. 

“If you wouldn’t mind…I might need another hole in one the next time I come to town.” 

Reblogs are love. Thank you.

[d0g-water]

Idk if you know or play Toontown

But if you do, may you make a fluff imagine of meeting Quackity in Toontown and becoming friends with the reader? And later on Quackity has a crush on the reader 😭

hehe i have played toontown before!!

you were only thirteen years old when you met this guy. it was playing trolley games until it hit two a.m. for you.

great conversations were made, some were deep and some were funny. especially because of him. he had such a curious mind. his silly questions were what had you talking to him.

at first, you thought he was a girl. his toon wore a pink bow. he didn’t have eyelashes, so you just assumed ‘she’ clicked the wrong gender. he thought you were a boy, despite your avatar having eyelashes.

things were awkward, but you two managed. boys and girls can be friends, who said they couldn’t?

after you two met, he was the reason why you were on your computer much more than before.

you two would play until dinnertime, you ate breakfast and lunch at your desk.

that was what brought you two closer. he’d ask what you were having, because you don’t live in mexico, and he wanted to see how different things were.

you downloaded skype for him, just to send him food pictures… but it led to talking every hour of the day, and calling for the first time.

you remember seeing his face for the first time… it was on video chat, and a random thought told you that he was cute, but you pushed it away.

he had short and dark hair, beady eyes, and round cheeks that looked pinchable.

after he saw yours, he seemed surprised and a bit nervous… but maybe that was because something like this is huge.

from that day onward, alexis seemed beat up. you weren’t sure what the issue was, he wouldn’t tell you…

not even trolley games distracted him, or golf… you knew how much he hated golf, but you tried your best..

you wanted to cheer him up, and there was a night where it was finally talked about.

his sudden mood swing, you couldn’t take it anymore. you wanted to know what you can do to make him feel better. he’s your friend… you want to help him.

this went from texting to calling, he hardly talked and when he did, his voice was shaky… was he in danger?

“alex, just tell me what’s wrong! i really want to help…” you plead, watching the blue ring on your profile picture disappear and reappear.

you were so serious about this, that all of your focus was on this call. you didn’t visit any other browsers, you stayed on skype and stared at the calling screen.

you hear him take a deep breath, and what sounded like a stressed whine…

you didn’t say anything yet, you gave him time to try and talk to you about what’s been up with him.

“y/n, you’re going to really hate me…” he says.

“what do you mean? i would never hate you! you’re my best friend, alexis—“

he quickly interrupts your reassurance, cursing into the microphone and giving up on hiding this from you.

this news truly brings you into deep shock, and you would’ve never thought he’d say something like this.

“y/n, i fucking like you!” he confesses, his tone sounding tensed, “i have a crush on you.”

you were speechless, and you felt your face heat up… your best friend likes you. oh god.

but he kept going, “you live so far from me… when you talk about how cute some boys are in your school it makes me so upset.”

the more he talked, the more out of touch you were with the world. you can’t even wrap your head around the fact that he likes you.

a cute, funny, and kind boy likes you… he lives so far, but there were random fantasies of him going to your country and kissing you crossing your mind.

oh god, you suddenly feel sick… but in a good way.

you’re going to have a boyfriend.. your first one… and it’s your best friend..

you really like him too, don’t you? you had just realized…

you had to let him know, before he slips away from embarrassment. you two are best friends with feelings for each other, you had to make this work.

“i- hey, alex, i really like you too…”

…he finally stopped talking.

there was silence now, you two were processing this conversation.

“really?” he asks, his tone sounding much better than before…

things are different now, because he’s your boyfriend.

calls were much shyer and exciting, and there was never a second without you two giggling at a word that was said.

there were even some times, he serenades you. he’s so talented with instruments and singing, he performs at his church.

he wrote songs about you, telling you how much he’s always wanted to be a singer… but he couldn’t because he had to pursue law. his father’s wish…

he’s the best boyfriend, and you were sure that if he was more, he’d still be the best for every single one.

[garglyswoof]

Fragile Things

ao3 For @kastleexchange Come What May Day 1, "What Could Be" The first thing they say to each other in Daredevil: Born Again. Please note i have no clue what canon is anymore, except (hopefully) in terms of characterization. She knows it can’t last, like it’s a truce the world has temporarily granted, fragile and held together by the most tenuous of things. A house of cards, really, and she eyes it warily, even as Matt’s let down his own guard now that Fisk isn’t around. No one has stepped up to the plate to organize criminal activity on the scale Fisk had managed, his empire ran haphazardly by lesser minds, as lesser threats.

So yes, Matt has let them in more, her and Foggy, now that his nightly excursions seem almost too easy. Not that they don’t leave him bruised and battered, but he seems less afraid of pulling his friends in when there’s not a criminal mastermind behind them, just poor attempts at the throne.

Still, she‘s tense that whole spring, into summer, then the fall, waiting and watching that house of cards. The Jack of Hearts looks a little bit like Foggy, who’d grown a goatee and then shaved it off in favor of just a mustache despite Karen needling him mercilessly for it.

“Karen, I’m going through my eras of TV Hunk. We’re in the Tom Selleck phase, do you know how many women swooned over his mustache? I will not be bound by societal changes.”

“Does Marci like it?”

He glances sidelong at her, pauses then lets out a defeated sigh. “Yes, or you know it would be gone in 30 seconds.”

“Ok I’ll work on her. Every time you come into the office I picture you sliding across the hood of a 70s muscle car like you’re in Magnum P.I. and I can’t take you seriously.”

“Reminds me of that time when Fr--” Foggy stops himself, but she knows.

“Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes flicking up to meet his gaze then leave it. “Yeah it does.”

It would be a lie to say she didn’t think about Frank, but Murdock, Nelson and Page had been a good distraction this last year. Setting up the firm, finding a new office in the Kitchen, and just playing serious legal catch-up to the two avocados at law were enough to keep thoughts of him to a dull roar (she’d bought them little namesakes, glass-blown ones with painted-on sunglasses and a mustache, from a stall at one of those weekend art festivals that were always popping up around the city).

Still, at night when she tosses her keys on the side table and the lonely weight of her quiet apartment settles into her bones, she thinks of him. Of how he couldn’t look at her in that damned hospital room, eyes darting, of how he pushed her away with his own stubborn, selfish aims. Yeah. Yeah, she’ll have a lot to say to him, if she could. 

But he’s been gone this past year, or maybe just terrorizing some other part of the country’s criminal organizations. Like she’d thought earlier, New York was missing some of its seedy underbelly these days. It’s why it worked, this house of cards.

It comes crashing down that Thursday night. 

It had been a good day, Matt heading into court in the afternoon, Foggy finally breaking the industrious quiet by announcing he’s always wanted a putting green in his office. 

Somehow that has evolved into a three-hole miniature golf course where the final hole is a ramp to Foggy’s blown-up face from an old political poster with the mouth cut out. Karen’s sides hurt from laughing as the city settles into the dark of evening. 

“Wow, you really suck at this,” Foggy laughs.

“I did not know I needed to practice -” she bursts into giggles -”putting a ball - oh god - p-putting a ball into your m-mouth”.

Foggy loses it too until a text buzzes both their phones. They both sober up from the laughter, each thinking the same thought as they reach for their mobiles. Matt’s been gone too long.

Sure enough, it’s a text from him, and Karen’s heart sinks from the vagueness of it.

Won’t be able to make it out tonight. You two have fun and see you in the a.m.

She looks up to see Foggy’s expression as he studies the words on the screen like an Ancient Text, the backlight and the now dim light in the office lending him a haggard expression. It's the first time she’s seen it in a year.

“He’ll be okay, Fogs.” She isn’t sure she believes it, but she says it anyway. She doesn’t think he believes it either, but he smiles all the same. She marvels, not for the first time, at how trauma is a form of time travel. Because despite the progress of this past year, her and Foggy both remember Matt, before, and they are right back there again in an instant.

Foggy’s expression almost breaks her heart as he nods and takes an absentminded last putt, the ball rolling up the braille legal book ramp and straight into the picture’s mouth.

---------------------------------

Karen hasn’t changed a bit, despite all that’s happened, and she knows this is a bad idea but can’t stop herself all the same. She’d said goodbye to Foggy at the office doorway, mumbling something about cleaning up the casserole dish from one of their recent sliding scale (if you could call it that) clients. Foggy had been on the phone with Marci, but had paused - Karen’s heart aching with the kindness of him - for a moment, holding his hand over the speaker.

“You sure?” He'd mouthed before speaking in a whisper. “This isn’t about Matt, right?”

She’d shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t going to lie about that, at least. “Maybe it is, but it’s okay. I just want to have some time to think, and scrubbing cheese off this casserole dish will sadly give me time.”

He’d left then, with one worried glance backwards. She’ll have to keep an eye on her phone tonight, she’s willing to bet he’ll at least text to check in on her. 

It had been the silences from Matt that had scared them the most. She isn’t doing that to Foggy.

Still, she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of her rifling through Matt’s files, her notes, and the Bulletin trying to triangulate where the hell Daredevil is off to tonight. She figures it out when she sees the line in the local crime beat from last week, from a paper she hadn’t yet let herself start reading again until now. 

Ex-FBI Officer Charged with Death of Priest, FBI Officer Escapes From Prison

She drops the paper and scrambles to her desk, pulling out the drawer that holds her purse, shaking, and grabs her gun, her breath ragged in the quiet of the office, the gun almost sucking the light out of the room, matte black. She stares at it for a moment before raising it in both hands, her feet unconsciously shifting apart to ground her. She feels the trigger under her finger, safety still on, she knows, and she presses the trigger once, twice, three times, over and over until her face crumples and she slides to the floor. 

She doesn’t give herself much time to let the pain rule her, she never does. If Bullseye is back, then that’s what Matt is looking into, and she knows he’ll need help despite not wanting it. Not to mention she has a score to settle with that psycho. Her hand shakes as she locks the office up until she stares at her fingers, willing them to calmness.

The church still looms taller than her faith, which isn’t hard to manage, she thinks wryly. The night holds an early fall chill, a breeze off the river teasing the hairs at the nape of her neck where her hair is pulled into a low ponytail. Quiet rules the street with the church lit gently by low exterior lights as she eyes the windows and tries not to think about the past. She’s almost about to give up, thinking that she’s guessed wrong, when she sees the heavy front door shift. A figure darts through, too broad-shouldered to be Matt, she thinks, then the door shuts without a noise and she’s staring into a face lit lowly for just a second before the man ducks into the shadows. 

Frank. She’s frozen there, on the sidewalk, and she knows it’s the stupidest thing for her to do so she darts off the path onto the grass that edges the church’s lot. She’s not sure if he’s seen her, and can’t spot him anymore in the darkness, and she has a moment to think - god how on earth did he just disappear like that? before he’s in front of her, finger to his lips at her impending shriek of surprise, his face familiarly blood-spattered and sporting an almost goofy grin. It doesn’t make sense, any of it, and she stares at him in confusion as he tugs her hands into his, holding her out like he wants to look at her, take stock, that grin lowering like a sail as his eyes grow more intense and how can he be so casual and what is going on and -

“Ma’am,” he says, his tone teasing. 

She relaxes, because there can’t be any danger here if he’s acting like that, but then tensing back up because honestly, what the hell? 

He must see it in her face because he rumbles an apology. ‘M’sorry. Just…seeing you like that, reminded me of…” he trails off, dropping her hands to tug at his hood in mimicry of his beggar routine. That happened forever ago, but he still remembers. So does she. “And you’re still all heart, I don’t even need to ask.” 

Something about the way he says it, almost proprietarily, pisses her off. Her eyes flash in the shadows they’ve found themselves in, pulling deeper in as a car passes and breaks the silence with loud, low bass.  “Yeah, Frank? What clued you in there?” 

She wants him to say it. Doesn’t want to have to spell it out.

His head punches back slightly, taking the blow. He changes the subject, or maybe it’s still the same one. “I came back as soon as I heard. The church’s been clean so far, surprised though. Guy like that usually wants to win where he lost.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Karen admits. “So what’s with the blood?”

He touches his face, as if reminding himself. “Research.” 

She almost laughs. 

“Where’s Red?” He rasps out.

“This was me trying to find him,” she says and watches his face soften out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, Karen.”

She waits, staring down at where the grass, wet from the day’s watering, sticks to her sneakers.

He clears his throat. “I wasn’t there for you when he came after you the first time. Fuckin' killed me to hear about it. Killed me to know you were hurt and scared and I wasn’t around to help.”

He’s not saying the right things, but they’re still good ones. She smiles a timid smile, glances up and lets him give her what he can. She’s got a year of therapy on one Frank Castle under her belt.  “It’s okay, Frank.”

She knows he wants to say more, say something about the hospital. She pulls him in for a hug, kisses his cheek in a spot bare of blood. Maybe she’s the one that isn’t ready this time. 

“It’s okay.”

She feels his lips on her neck, a brief chapped kiss, before he pulls back and stares into her eyes like he’s trying to solve her mystery.

“I just want to find Matt, Frank. Make sure he’s okay.” 

Maybe he hears it in her voice, the unspoken later, maybe he just senses the urgency.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He grabs her hand again, pulls his hood up with another. She’s so in shock that she doesn’t move until he starts tugging. He looks back at her, casually throws back, “You’re going to do it anyway. At least I can keep an eye on you this way.”

It both pisses her off and makes her smile. Her feelings are never black and white for Frank Castle, but it definitely seems like he’s accepted some things about her, at least. She squeezes his hand that dwarfs her own, callused and warm, and follows him away from the church, into the heart of the city.

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (136-137)

I love it when a plan comes together. Especially when, as in this case, the plan has been in motion for years (on my part, at least. More of a day-to-day thing on theirs)

If you want to follow along, you can here.

136. Hostage Negotiations

Fans howling or not: he’s a star player and you do not hand a star player to your divisional rival. You just don’t. Unless you’re like, the Leafs back in the day, but Lapointe had a bad season before that, and Jared suspects that deal was made on the winged feet of homophobia. The former GM of the Leafs and Deslauriers are probably poker buddies or something.

I like to picture the Old Boy’s Club as a real thing sometimes. It’s at a golf course, naturally. The only women are decorative. Scotch and cigars and toxic masculinity and white privilege and unearned cockiness. Random deer skulls because they like to mount their trophies. Etc.

“I mean, I hope I’m staying in the West,” Bryce says. “Calgary’s probably going to start reaching out, seeing who’s interested, ship me off before the NTC kicks in.

That would certainly be the clever thing to do, considering how few options they’ll have come July 1st. But then, when have the Flames done the clever thing in this universe?

The Senators beat the Scouts in a massive upset.

Scratch and Money become ScratchnMoney. And a Cup for Dan and the boys!

Greg goes back and forth with the Canucks. They ask for 5.5, even though Jared would have been content with the initial 4.5 offer, told him that, Greg exasperated with him on the other side of the phone. The Canucks agree to 5. He knows the two years combined are less than Bryce makes in a single year, but it’s — huge to him. They send him the papers, and Jared doesn’t know whether to sign them or not.

That’s 2.5 AAV on a two year deal, which is pretty fair as far as bridge deals go for a middle-sixer you use heavily on special teams. Jared could have, but didn’t want to sign for longer, with no idea where Bryce was going to be in two months, let alone two years.

“Still,” Jared says. “Foster’s like — he seems like a genuinely nice guy, maybe he’d—”

“He’s a GM, babe,” Bryce says. “He’s not going to just let you like, go because of love or whatever. It’s a business.”

If any GM would…

Jared signs everywhere he’s supposed to sign it, and that’s it. He’s a Canuck for two more years. Bryce has two more years on his contract, so — maybe in two years they’ll figure it out, manage to get to the same place together. It’s hard to be happy about that when two years sounds like, well, two years, when Bryce is already frayed close to snapping.

Obviously the situation is vastly improved very shortly, but I think Bryce going just about anywhere would have probably improved his mental state, though being in the East would be undoubtedly hard on them as a couple.

They crack open a nice bottle of wine, eat good dad cooking, and Jared gets his hair ruffled by his parents like, a billion times, like being a millionaire means they get to treat him like a kid again.

Jared gets so huffy when people fuck with his hair. Which of course both parents are aware of. Gotta keep him humble. (They’re also, you know, proud of their boy!)

“You were already a millionaire,” Erin says, her hand outstretched. Jared eyes it.

“What was your signing bonus, Jared?” Erin asks sweetly.

“Nothing,” Jared says. “Not a cent.”

“Jared,” Erin says, hand still outstretched. “The internet exists. It is literally public knowledge.”

Money please.

It was a quarter of a million dollars of his contract up front and Jared isn’t going to give her any of it. He already offered his parents a cheque and was rebuked and then offered again, citing financial support being the reason he had a hockey career, and had it very grudgingly accepted.

They both have well-paying middle-class jobs and aren’t hurting for money, but they are currently paying for Erin’s schooling and expenses, so it is eventually accepted (very grudgingly).

“Am I boring?” Jared says.

“You are the most exciting person in the world,” Bryce tells him, all earnestness, and takes his hand at the next red light.

Jared squeezes, then lets go. “Both hands on the wheel, babe,” he says.

“You can sometimes be a little boring,” Bryce says.

I mean —

Free-agency comes Bryce is still a Flame, which means all the leverage is his now.

Dropped a punctuation mark and/or word, whoops.

“Who’re your three?” Jared asks that night, fingers running through Bryce’s hair as Bryce drowses beside him.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Bryce says. “Like, I’m going to put Vancouver on it, obviously, but it’s just going to be a flat out no from them.”

“I know,” Jared says.

“If they gave in they’d ask Vancouver for way too much in return and they’d say no,” Bryce says.

“I know,” Jared repeats.

Bryce blows out a breath. “I wanna go so bad,” he says. “I just—”

The scheming is underway.

“I trust you in absolutely everything,” Bryce says solemnly, which automatically puts Jared on guard.

“Except?” Jared says.

“Be patient with me during the negotiations?” Bryce says.

Dave’s now involved in the scheming.

“Are you going to be booed the next time you play in the Saddledome?” Jared says.

Bryce smiles, and Jared doesn’t care if that means Bryce is playing further from him, that they may give up the apartment that’s felt like home since Jared was seventeen. He doesn’t care. Bryce smiled.

Jared really would light the Saddledome on fire for him. And not figuratively speaking.

137. Culmination

It’s all of twenty four hours after Summers comes to town that Bryce literally comes jogging in the door, yelling, “J?” like Jared isn’t sitting on the couch ten feet away from him half-watching the news. One nice thing about living in Vancouver is he doesn’t have to listen to the fucking UCP. “J, turn off your phone.”

He ran the entire way home. It was not a long run — partly due to distance, partly due to speed. He wanted Jared to hear it from him, especially if the ‘Bryce Marcus to Tampa’ came separate from the follow up ‘and then to Vancouver’.

“Your phone was about to go crazy and I need to tell you this before someone else does,” Bryce says, kneeling in front of him like he did last night, clean pressed suit and earnest eyes. “I’ve gotta sign papers still but—”

Practically a proposal, which is fitting because Bryce just did everything in his power to be where Jared was. And yes, it’s his hometown, and his childhood team, and his mom’s there, but he would have done it wherever Jared was (would have been easier to swing, in fact, were they not divisional opponents)

“Please tell me it’s a Western Conference team,” Jared says.

“It is,” Bryce says.

“If it’s Edmonton I’m going to be—” Jared says.

Bryce kisses him. “Shut up for a second,” he says.

Jared scowls, but does.

He knows your proposal derailing ways, Matheson.

“Three teams on my list,” Bryce says. “They picked one of them.”

“They would have to if you’ve been traded, unless you waived your NTC,” Jared says. “You know I know all of this, stop being all weird and cryptic and—”

Jared let him explain his and Dave’s plan to you, he wants you to be proud of his scheming!!!

“Tampa’s over the cap,” Bryce says. “And they were desperate to shed salary so they could re-sign Tanner before someone bit and offer-sheeted him and they gave Calgary Schlitz and Barbieri and a second for me.”

Dear RL NHL GMs: use more offer sheets, you utter cowards!!!

So, deal wise, Tampa comes out of this very nicely. They get cap space they needed, they shed good but too expensive players, and they trade a second for a first (from Vancouver when they flip Bryce), and a goalie prospect when they don’t have anyone particularly promising in the prospect pool.

Calgary gets a decent if not terrific haul from Tampa, and it looks like an okay if not great deal for them, but understandable given the short trade list. Until, well. The second flip. Then they look like dupes.

“Tampa can’t afford to keep me,” Bryce says. “Which is why Vancouver offered Tampa a first, a third, and a goalie prospect because Summers told Foster, strictly off the record, I’d re-sign in a heartbeat when my term was up and I’d give them a significant hometown discount when I did as long as my husband was still in the Canucks line-up when that time came. Do not fucking tell anyone that last part, not even your parents or my mom.”

Obviously Vancouver is over the moon about getting Bryce. Hometown hero, on a sweetheart deal for two more years, going to sign for cheap as long as Jared’s by his side.

Dave Summers was in violation of NHL rules and ethics for conveying that message to Vancouver and we should all tsk and shake our heads. (But we’re not gonna)

Jared beams at Bryce.

Bryce beams back.

This is what we’re doing instead.

“I can’t believe I made you this Machiavellian,” Jared says.

He’s so proud.

He IS so proud of your scheming, Bryce!

“They weren’t really — big on moving me at first,” Bryce says. “Like, even with the media shit and all, I’m on a deal that was pretty normal then but cheap now and they figured my play was back on track so like, may as well wait, see if they could get more for me next season at the trade deadline or throw me at someone before I was a UFA. So I maybe like, held out until my NTC kicked in and then mentioned that my trade value was higher right now because I hadn’t come out yet and I was considering it.”

This isn’t technically against rules or ethics because ‘player wants to come out’ is legally protected, at least in Canada, but you know, it's probably not morally in the clear. But I think weaponizing your sexuality against bosses who have been absolute shits about it falls under ‘they have it coming’ branch of ethics, ie: karma’s a bitch and so am I.

“You’re not considering it,” Jared says. If Bryce was even remotely considering it, Jared would have caught on.

Bryce shakes his head. “Not to media,” he says.

Famous last words, though that shoe won’t drop for a year and a half.

They're both smiling too hard for the kiss to be any good but Jared doesn't give a fuck, he hauls him in, tastes Bryce’s smile against his own, feeling like he can breathe easily for the first time in months.

All of Jared’s favourite kisses with Bryce are objectively bad because they all involve them both beaming their faces off and I love that, especially since Jared isn’t much of a grinner. (Bryce increasingly is, especially after moving to Vancouver, but Jared mentions Bryce grinning so much you’d think he has a perma-grin — he doesn’t, except around Jared.)

As much as ‘actually on the same team now’ calls for some terrific celebratory sex, it’s going to have to wait. Bryce has papers to sign. They have people to talk to. They are grown ass adults who cannot have celebratory sex.

Maturity is so boring.

“Foster wants to talk to you?” Bryce says.

Jared takes the phone.

“Hi Jared,” Foster says.

There’s a bit of a laugh in Brian’s voice right there because he’s been gleefully laughing to himself all day. He did absolutely nothing to earn this deal that makes him look like a genius except be a stand up guy and I am delighted for him.

“You tell Bryce he has the biggest brass balls I’ve ever seen,” his dad says.

This is the most Don has ever liked Bryce. And really the moment Don puts down the Flames fandom. He doesn’t know what was involved, but he suspected it was complicated, and that Bryce did some shit, and that he did that shit so he could be with his son, and Don can’t not admire that. (Also the brass balls.)

“How’d he keep this a secret?” Elaine says, now sounding completely incredulous.

Bryce is way better at keeping secrets than Jared or Elaine. But only if he considers the secrets GOOD secrets. Like ‘I want to marry you, I bought a ring’ — hidden for months. ‘I have been setting up a charity’ — four months of steady work before he felt confident letting Jared know about it. And some of that is Jared being oblivious, but Bryce is perfectly good at hiding something he considers a surprise rather than a secret.

He’s got a next text when he gets off the phone with her, Stephen has not stopped laughing since we found out. Legit is going to make himself puke. Imagine you’re slammed right now but give us a call when you get a minute?

Stephen is DELIGHTED by this. Gabe’s a little concerned honestly, the dude is puce coloured at this point.

“They’re going to boo you,” Jared says.

“I know,” Bryce says.

“Not just the first time,” Jared says. “They’re probably going to do it for years. They might do it for the rest of your career.”

Bryce shrugs. “I know.”

A lot of Bryce’s complete and utter exhaustion in the run up to this deal involved him coming to terms with and making peace with that fact; that he was going to leave Calgary on poor terms, that he was going to get a boo from the crowd rather than a tribute video and a standing ovation. And this was going to happen no matter where he went, but yes, going to Vancouver significantly upped the chances of that happening for the rest of his career.

Bryce shrugs again. “It’s going to suck,” he says. “I’m probably going to feel like shit. But like. I get to play for my hometown team, and live with you all year round, and be near my mom and my grandparents and it’s like — it’s worth it, so. Whatever I have to deal with, I’ll deal with. Plus like, it’s nice knowing going in that it won’t be a shitty room. Because if it was a shitty room you would have bitched about it. Hell, you bitched about the Oilers’ room being nice.”

How dare Darryl Rogers exist, being friendly and supportive to rookies.

“Well,” Jared says. Fair. Stupid Darryl Rogers being a nice guy and welcoming him kindly.

Literally Jared, tho.

“Dmitry—”

“Sounds like a totally normal dude, you just hate everyone,” Bryce says.

This is also probably fair.

“He pied my face,” Jared says. “Twice.”

“On your birthday,” Bryce says. “With shaving cream. Which is a tradition.”

“He pied my face,” Jared mutters.

God I love Jared.

“Want to rail me in your Canucks jersey?” Bryce asks.

I would suggest against this for purely Pavlovian reasons, but you do you boys.

Canucks blue really brings out Bryce’s eyes. It’s like, stunning, how beautiful they look.

“Less talk about my eyes, more getting your dick in me,” Bryce says.

The ONE time Jared tries to be romantic.

“Look at me?” Jared says, and when Bryce does, his eyes are so fucking blue.

“Vancouver,” Jared says, and tastes the grin that spills across Bryce’s face in response.

They did it!!! Took 137 parts, but they made it to the same place!

[farm-witches-fic-recs]

Friends! Countrypeople! Townies! The farm witch community has gathered together again to bring a selection of favorites old and new for your reading pleasure.

Check out these fics, leave the authors some love, and enjoy your days in the ways that make you happiest.

==========

London, Love, and All it Entails (londonspirit) “Patrick and David’s long term, long distance love affair. Someone mentioned GOGO (Getting Over Getting Older) and this one came to mind: two people are destined to be together but they first have lots to do before they are both ready. I find it both comforting and inspiring.” 

Noble Beloved (AWorldOfDreams/@a-noble-dragon) “I love this story so much! The entire Dracotine series to be honest. It’s such a unique spin on our favorite boys and their romance. The longing is palpable. The sexy times are hot as hell. And, yes, Patrick is a dragon—a perfect, snippy, numbers guy of a dragon. 💙🐉🖤”

My misspent youth and my slow decline (@stereopticons) “Only 800 words but it hurts so good. Patrick, David, Stevie, and Alexis each get a devastating moment that ends on such a high. Loved this.”

People like that are the only people here (@likerealpeopledo-on-ao3) “Warm yet complex Brewer family vibes, a gigantic treehouse, and Patrick coming to terms with his past at Thanksgiving. Plus the Roses! Doing Rose things! It’s a fic that helped me see how Patrick developed the flawed communication style he’s perfected and how sublime David is as a supportive partner (housewarming not included).”

Shot glass of tears (@blackandwhiteandrose) “There's just so much good stuff packed in a short fic. David in NYC is a whole mood but the way he feels things and even changes over this little bit of time is crazy. it's sad but it's not. I love that it ends knowing right where they'll pick up in Schitt's Creek.” 

Too fast (@grapehyasynth) “I come back to this one all the time. David worrying about this date being wrong for him (mini-golf! who would think David would mesh well with mini-golf!) but realizing how much Patrick is trying, how hot he thinks Patrick is, and relaxing into it and letting himself be charmed while still agonizing over making sure he isn't messing things up with Patrick is so lovely.” 

The touch of your hand makes my pulse react (pandorasdaydream) “This new RPF manages to create a vivid world where Dan and Noah are together and it's a world with both love and tenderness but also melancholy and jealousy. Highly recommend if you were one of those fans who did a side eye at Dan showing up drunk and enamored at Noah's London show.”

True Blue series (ayes)" An inventive, sweet & hot early-relationship AU in which David’s escape with Roland’s truck after the events of S1 ends with an encounter with friendly and generous goat farmer Clint Brewer (and his family) instead of the cranky Mennonites…. So David meets Patrick even before he’s worked at the Blouse Barn. The story includes hilarious appearances by the Roses and Stevie, is told from David’s (very anxious) PoV, and is as insightful & funny & satisfying as we all deserve. The series comes in two parts; both are worth devouring!" 

Wild and Wooded (@lisamc-21) “This is everything I want in a non angsty AU fic. They meet, tease and banter, find a way to meet again, click boom, and a happy ending. Patrick is so earnest and wears his heart on his sleeve, not to mention those heart eyes. David knows that Patrick has something that he has never encountered before. He wants it, but history has him doubting. Great dialog, great intimate scenes, lovely story.”

[drapi0n]

It was taking absolutely everything in Ilmarinen's power not to kick this whole boat into rip and tear mode right fucking now on all these old fucks hogging the road going a precious five miles under the limit, but unfortunately this stupid bucket of bolts is supposed to be inconspicuous right now and that would be absolutely anything but! Especially if that uptight little toymaker figures out exactly what the precious cargo of hers was in his trunk...

Come to think of it, that's probably another good reason not to go crazy with it... Any good tinker would make their shit a little fuckin blast resistant at least but that's no excuse to let himself go crazy and wind up with a broken toy just because traffic was a little off.

God he'll appreciate when this is back on his table and there's no more chances of prying eyes.

Wait… the cars in front of him were moving differently. As if he wasn't already creeping forward more, he winked an eye to judge the distance before peeling absolute rubber to scrape between the two. Get absolutely fucked you dusty golf bags! That bumper scrape better have left a mark because the Bitch-Mobile sure fucking won't have any! Heh. That's what they get for fucking with the guy with an anti brute car. Sigh… what a day it won't be when he can hit and run someone who will really dent the bitch.

Not tonight… too many things to do first.

Mindful to only speed about as bad as everyone else on the damn road, he raced back to the rundown remains of whatever stupid store hid his whole operation. It was probably a pawn shop with the way it reeked like cig smoke and moth balls when he first found it but now you can tell it's a tinker shop the way it reeks like weed smoke and welding. Adding another couple degrees of tilt to the ramp railing out back as he parked, a quick tap of a keychain to a ring had the total fence lock engaged, giving him enough privacy to start hauling this gift box inside.

God he was such a fucking genius to install a door lock that opened at the sign of all his unique body tech, if he had to lug this shit and fumble with his jewelry at the same time he'd go crazier! No no no, even without the boxes he'd hate to go back to using the manual locks, the little cat door trick is all he ever needed in his life! Okay of course not all. Not even this new treat will live up to that. Probably.

He didn't need to think about that yet. Not with it actually set in his workshop like this.

He should probably stop calling it an it actually...

Whatever, he could ask if it's got something different to use once he can actually ask it shit at all, first he had to tear off this wrapping paper and get in there.

He leaned over the heavy crate and began tracing fingers against the big nodes of locks keeping it held together. Ohhh if he wasn't already giggly, he was really laughing now… oh how he loved the tinker tech merry go round. Even if the locks were a little goddamn derivative, seriously... it's like Mekhanikus was building an armored tank just to slap a diary lock on the thing. Well. Among tinkers at least.

At least it meant it was a breeze to get the thing open, if he had to wait any goddamn longer to see what he managed to snag he'd do something even more unwise than stealing it to begin with! Of course the stupid specialty tool he made for the things still left the process stupid fiddly, just like fucking with anything else that wasn't his… he really needed more good tools for other common tricks at this rate.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the final lock clicking open, his hands shook with thrill as he lunged for the seam of the crate and scrambled for purchase. He only fumbled with it for a couple seconds before cursing, picking his tool back up and shoving the flat metal end in and prying the damn thing open like that. The harsh sound of a seal breaking was like music to his ears.

The manic grin on his face only split open wider at the sight of the toy inside. Oh Professor Mekhanikus you really shouldn't have!~

The inside of the crate looked like something out of an actually good sci-fi movie, which was not what he was expecting from Mekh given how everything she rode into battle with looked like auto shop homunculi but he guessed she must have some hidden tastes if this was anything to go by. The more interesting part was of course what was inside all that glorified styrofoam packing, and he was practically drooling over it already.

It was a robot. Of course given who he stole it from it wasn't about to be anything else. It felt necessary to remind himself that it was though because for a moment it almost didn't look that way, what with the surprisingly convincing lithe human frame and a face to match that was so real looking that if Ilmarinen wasn't able to see that the damn thing didn't breathe at all and had wires plugged into its head he'd think it was asleep. It basically was— from what he kinda grasped about her robots since starting to fuck with Mekh, then the moment he kicked this thing back on it would wake up, take approximately 20.3 seconds or so to process how long it's been out orrrrr potentially whatever this crate’s been telling it and then it'll realize he's not her and probably attack. Just because it's built like it's for ogling instead of fighting doesn't mean it definitely can't, he refuses to rule it out.

Can't do that to him if he doesn't let the thing though.

A few passes along the inside of the crate with tracing hands let him find the important bits of the machinery and he quickly began work unfolding, uncovering, expanding and otherwise adjusting the mechanisms until he found himself with something of an entire console display. A keyboard, buttons, sliders, lights and of course a display projected into the lid of the crate that was filling his eyes with delicious information about the 197 pound pile of machinery that was his now. He could practically feel his pants getting tighter.

The controls were of course OBTUSE to get a handle on to begin with, because god forbid any tinker other than him ever do something the smart way, but once he had them down it was allllll his. He felt like a cougar in a college bar. It was no wonder he could never crack anything else he salvaged from cracking heads with her if all of them had a console system like this… he could already feel his head spinning with designs and he hadn't even touched the actual robot yet!! If Mekhanikus doesn't kill him outright the next time she sees him she soooo deserves a handy for this.

He was rocking in his spot on his knees as he examined everything, he was swimming in idea after idea of beautiful mechanical bastards to point at his enemies as he drank in the details, savoring the data about every little mechanism in there making it move and how they're calibrating even as he's sitting there. It was once he started looking at the thinking and behavior functions where he went rigid.

“No. You're fucking kidding.”

Convincing human movements designed into the damn thing. Speech pattern recognition and recreation. Other stupid pointless social bullshit set aside in a locked little folder. And right where there should be all the databases of combat and battlefield control that you would expect from a woman who builds stupid fucking FIGHTING ROBOTS who sends them out to KILL THINGS, right where there should be a pretty little nexus of information to build a real fucking murderbot to save his ass when the big guns are on him… was all just a big layered mess of LOGIC LEARNING SYSTEMS. Ugh. Take back anything he ever said about handies.

It's probably useful. It HAS to have some kind of purpose or Mekhanikus wouldn't have fucking built the damn thing. He had to remember this.

He's not about to kill his boner looking through a big filing cabinet of boooring right now that's for sure. He huffed and began to turn his attention towards the social behaviors half of things, targeting the machines interactions with its maker. As expected the thing was designed to be perfectly loyal to and incredibly protective of her, though not to the destructive degree of the others, it wasn't designed for much past verbal aggression. Fuck, for as much as he wanted to be pissed it was so damn intriguing. Of course for as much as he was chewing through it in his head he was still changing that damn code.

No. No this guy needed to be for him.

Urghh… he really could stand to turn down the loyalty a lil though. As much as he was a genius to be bowed before, having a robot he stole be so devoted that as soon as he turns it on it just will? There was something about it that made his skin crawl. All power to Mekh for whatever she had going on here but this isn't her robot anymore and he's going to do what he damn well pleases about that.

In fact… a little hostility towards her is only fair. It can learn more of that itself.

He continued making slight adjustments like that until his knees went numb, then he pulled up a stool from one of his benches nearby and sat to make even more. In the end if he did it all right— and with as long as he's spent staring so far he fucking better have gotten it right— he would boot this thing up and it'll be confused, maybe a little apprehensive but open to what he had to say to it. If he played his cards right, told the story of how he got it in the first place and talked that shit through proper then he might even get lucky and have the robot ask him to keep it itself! He bounced his foot as he finished the adjustments before folding the extended console parts back into the system of the crate, eyeing the last few buttons left.

Even after the display read [CALIBRATIONS COMPLETE] his hand still hesitated over the power switch.

Fuck it, no turning back already. He gently pressed it before rolling back a bit on his stool to observe as the robot quickly began responding. The wires connected to its head released themselves with a click before small whirrs and creaks started up as it shifted from the fetal position it was curled into to instead sit holding its calves. A high pitched whine sounded from somewhere behind its eyes as it started up.

With it upright in front of him, the features of the face were clearer, especially with the careful way its wig was styled away towards its back. It didn't make it any easier to parse right away, its features weren't too remarkable but were pretty. More than that they were pretty damn androgynous features, and looking down at the body didn't actually help either. The body looked like it could look either direction with just a little help from clothes… maybe it was becoming clearer. He inspected the face again, now that he really considered it, it looked like the material would take makeup. The right makeup, the right clothes and even maybe contacts if someone gets a bit tipped off by the blue of the eyes and really—

“...Where am I?”

Shit. Eyes. 19.8 seconds until alertness. Consistent. He straightened up on the stool and flashed a smile. He hoped for welcoming but he was certainly landing on insane.

“You're inside my favorite workshop. Your maker let me get away with you, my name is Ilmarinen. Do you have one of your own?”

He held out a hand towards the robot and it slowly reached up to shake it. Good.

“Uh… I am Keys… could you clarify your earlier statement? About my maker, not your workshop.”

Its posture was tense but that was to be expected. He slipped his hand into his pocket and tried to look friendly. It was hard when he wanted to know everything he could about what this thing was designed for, but he had to.

“Oh I'd be happy to! See me and your maker— what do you call her by the way? Mommy? Mistress? Master?”

Keys’ eyes blew wide open and it sat up ramrod straight in embarrassment, he didn't think a robot could look like it got splashed by ice water but he could hardly keep himself from giggling at seeing it.

“What! N-no I call her Professor!! Or by her name!!” It's voice cranked into almost a squawk, finally showing some mechanical crack at the edges which was even harder to keep from laughing at after hearing the overly smooth tone it was holding before.

“Aw boo that's way less fun” Ilmarinen blew a short raspberry before continuing “welllll… me and the professor have something of a funny little rivalry yeah? She makes all these beauuutiful machines— like you!” He perks up to smile again and point at Keys “And I… really really really want them, so I try and steal them!! This makes her wanna kill me reaaaal fucking bad. This tracking so far?”

He tilted his head at the robot in front of him, who tilted its own back.

“...You're the guy she calls the scum sucking, grease oiled, paint chugging, mange bitten thief?”

The sheer lack of bite in its deadpan recitation of her insults nearly bowled him out his stool as he howled with laughter, needing to clutch the straps of his harness to keep from falling over as he giggled. Keys didn't look nearly as amused, just tilting its head the other way before something caught its attention and it reached behind its head to fuss with its wig.

“Oh my god… fuckin yeah totally, I dunno who else she'd yell like that at!” He giggled more, there's a reason he's infamous between tinkers and it sure isn't because he asks them nicely for design inspiration. He straightened back up just a little as he wiped away a tear that wasn't there “Fucking crazy that she'd let me steal you right after calling me those things right?”

Keys looked surprised again before a strong furrow hit its eyebrows. “That doesn't sound like the professor at all.”

It was right of course. If Ilmarinen had targeted her stash and tried to get away with Keys as is, Mekhanikus would've probably tried to get his head onto a spike for her next robot to wear into battle or something. But he doesn't run off with armfuls of valuable tech with simple plans like that.

“Oh she's probably real pissed I have you, don't get me wrong… doesn't deserve you if she left you behind to keep one of her other models though does she?” He leaned forward with a smile as he leveled his stare at Keys’ confused expression.

“U-uh… that's not… she…” it looks away for a moment as it's face furrows again— the way the face plates move under the synthetic skin start to make more sense in his head as he sees it more. It sighed and lifted its stare back at him. “She probably anticipated more use out of one of the other models… I do not provide much use outside of scouting, determining passwords and accompanying the professor on civilian or otherwise disguised outings…”

Yes!!! He didn't even have to ask about purpose!!

“...And I've been kept aside for use only in the cases of passwords for almost three months I would say.” There was definite disappointment in its voice. Ilmarinen reeled back some of the excited thoughts that were running wild so he could focus.

“Three months is crazy long for a tinker to avoid using something, even if they kinda use it.” He tried not to let his distaste clear but he wasn't very subtle to begin with. Keys sighed (did it actually move air or was it a recording? He couldn't tell) “She just… must be different. She likes big things, big spectacle and stuff… once she finishes a model she brings them all out for like a big debut of stuff and all that, but then she starts another big model and it'll be… however long again. The combat bots are the only ones who can be sure they'll get used.”

Keys sounded bitterer as it kept talking and Ilmarinen wasn't quite sure how much of the attitude could be attributed to his tweaks but it definitely wasn't talking itself back into the loyalty by the sounds of things. “Is that why she built you the big fancy box? To keep you tucked away while the others are busy fighting or the Professor is too busy to play?” He fought back a smirk at the way Keys started fiddling with its fingers.

Yeah. It'll be his just fine.

“No uh.” Keys gulped and Ilmarinen's full attention was on wondering how before it spoke back up “that's not… what she told me it was for… she said it was a vital part of keeping my body maintained, all the models she builds have to be hooked up to a console in order for maintenance to be completed and for our power sources to charge.” Its resolve returned to its voice at the end as it stared him down.

“Do all the other models get closed up into a little box?”

Its mouth dropped open to protest before it stopped and looked to its knees. “No… Every other model has a small hangar to be hooked up into… the hangars are built into the Professors workshop…” Ilmarinen couldn't help but shake his head.

“I think I'm understanding the picture here, Keys.”

He was trying so so so hard to keep his triumphant smile off his face but he would have to keep it down until this is done. Wouldn't want Keys to get the wrong idea. “Oh yeah. Fuck. Before I start talking about you in this little story, I should probably not be calling you an it all willy nilly, pronouns?” He held out his fist like a microphone and Keys raised an eyebrow. “Uh well… it/its? Unless I'm supposed to be something else for something”

Hot. Damn. He's a goddamn genius.

“Sweet. Weeeell… Your little Professor and I got into another one of our usual spats, yeah? She's rolling out with one of her new models— you called it a debut? She was having a lot of fun with one of those. Doing her usual party thing, fighting a few heroes who were expecting this and all that! I didn't really see much there, I came to the party pretty late!!” He wasn't keeping the smile off his face. Keys wasn't recoiling so he wouldn't fight it down anymore. “No no no, see what I did see is the end of that!”

He snaps a finger. “Silly me, I nearly forgot! I already had you in my trunk by then” he giggled and tapped the side of his head as Keys looked concerned “No see… Professor Mekhanikus knows how anticipated a debut becomes and she really hates that I'm one of the ones to anticipate it, so she always tries to ensure I can't get anything from it” he giggles again “it was a good try at least this time! She likes to pull the classic ‘princess in another castle’ bit against me and move absolutely everything that I could possibly try and copy from her into some fuckin warehouse across town that I can't find on short notice”

Keys wasn't giving him much, just staring as he explains, it looked conflicted but it definitely knew what he was talking about with the Professors game.

“Now that trick only works so good because she can actually get everything there! Her last debut was another day that I went home empty handed so I expected the warehouse swap on the next one, and I hired a few friends to ensure that the transfer process was interrupted!” He was full on grinning now. “The idea was to steal one of the transport trucks entirely or have them be followed all the way to either ensure knowledge of the location or the drivers noticing and turning back to avoid the risk. Circumstances led to that last one”

“That isn't letting you take something!” Keys snapped up a little, holding onto its knees. Ilmarinen just held up a finger.

“I'm getting to that aren't I? Well… warehouse trick or no, your professor decides to debut your new sibling anyway, leaving her workshop guarded by just a few combat models.” He smiled wider. “Your combat ready brethren aren't too bright by the way, I don't know if you knew that... All it took was another visit from my friends from before and I had them leaving the place completely uncovered! I was just about able to walk right in and walk right out with you!” He pouted just a little “of course, the combat models noticed me right then and sent an immediate alert to the professor.”

He leaned over to rest his chin on his hands. Keys’ lips were tight as it kept listening, it didn't have the built in loyalty but it had the memories of its maker, he could tell it felt like he was bragging. Sure, he was, but he still found the details fun. He pouted a little more. “Not all that important is it? No, the important part is that I was paying those friends of mine with something from her workshop. One of her big robots for transport. By the time the professor got back to us with her little debut toy to try and make the fighting go her way— or more like to clean up the mess… you were being loaded into my car!” He tried not to cackle remembering the way Mekhanikus seemed to puff up three times her size in anger when she saw him. “She almost lunged for me right then and there! But instead…”

His face went serious, this was the important part. “Instead, my friends book it to pile into that bot of hers, and while I get to close my trunk and burn rubber outta there, my friends start escaping the other direction and I'll give you one guess who she followed”

Keys didn't have to guess. It looked upset and shook its head lightly “it's like I said… that's one she'd get way more use out of than me, she'll… probably come back to get me”

Ilmarinen just let out a guffaw. “Fat chance!! Anyone who knows anything about me knows, you don't get your shit back once I take it. You're not the only thing I had in my trunk, I took armfuls of what I could to shove in there with you, she probably saw all that too! How much of that is daily use shit for her? She weighed her options between a group driving away in something that she could track down and take away again once they have to stop moving and me taking you potentially forever and she ran after the other guys. For all she knows I'm dismantling you right now!”

He must've come on strong with the way that Keys recoiled and pulled its legs closer. “So… what now then… Do you dismantle me?”

Oh damn he could've just cried at that. “Oh god no! Who do you take me for? I mean I might have to take you apart a little bit assuming that Mekhanikus did her shit any bit right and put a tracker in you, but not… not any sort of permanently. No no no, I want you to stay with me. I'll put you to way better use than that slease on her high horsebot ever did!”

Keys seemed to brighten up. Yes. Yesss…

“Did you… did you change my code?”

Nooooo….

“Yes.” No point in lying. Keys furrows it's brows again. “It wasn't drastic though. I specifically tried to avoid drastic changes so I could meet you as you were. Mostly I just made it so you wouldn't try and hurt me on sight for being one of the Professors enemies.” he tilted his head thoughtfully “... Yeah no! The only real big change is that loyalty thing she put in you! If I didn't turn that whole situation off when you wouldn't have even believed a word I said! I mean sure, I could point at the fact I have you here and I could open the news so you could see the pictures of her chasing down that other model, but you would just plug your ears and close your eyes because nooo Mekhanikus would never…”

It looked conflicted for a second before covering its face and going still. The internal sounds of mechanics got a little louder before it looked back up at him.

“You… what do you want me for?”

He could feel the grin coming back full force. “To study you first. I have a lot of ideas that I'll need to understand you for, but once that's done…” he tapped his chin before clapping with a grin. “I've always wanted a partner in crime!! You would not believe how shitty it is trying to tinker completely solo, I mean I'm sure others are even more solo, but taking shit from other people and having a real team to bounce ideas off are wayyyy different concepts and I really haven't had a lotta fun with company that I didn't pay to be there in aaages”

“So someone you stole is a nice change of pace?”

He giggled innocently before it devolved into something of a wicked cackle. “C'mon, I'd let you leave if you wanted to go, but you've got an actual untethered brain for once and only a couple tinkers that could really keep you up to snuff. So I mean, fine by me if you wanna try and go back and have your leash reinstalled or run away to try and find someone else to maintain you or…” he leaned back in his stool and hooked his thumbs in his pockets “you could stay with the guy who cared enough to clean up that brain of yours, and maybe help him fulfill his wish of modifying one of Mekh’s bots to be so much better it pisses her off. Whaddya think? Got any features you think she skimped out on?”

Keys was quiet for a moment as it stared at him, eyes pointed and focused as it assessed everything in front of it.

“Well… I've always wanted to try eating.”

[menlove]

imagine you are at a restaurant and there's two guys competing for general manager

one guy is a ridiculously incompetent rich dude who harasses the female employees and is calling for half the employees to be locked in the walk-in freezer and thinks the chefs should start serving the rats getting into the pantry. he's a smart business man, see, and this is a good plan. he also wants to brutally murder every single person that walks into the restaurant unless they're on the reservation list. he is a huge supporter of the restaurant next door that is already murdering half their staff and has 10 year old children doing dishes. he's not even really there usually, he's golfing. he let half the staff die from the flu. he's also definitely committing fraud and embezzling money. he also really likes the color red, which most people in the restaurant can't stand.

now the other guy is ALSO ridiculously incompetent. he does also sometimes harass the female employees and sometimes he just leaves in the middle of the day mid sentence because he forgot where he is. he stepped in during the whole flu thing and said ohhhh man that sucks ugh that other guy sucked right? and didn't send anyone home or give them paid sick leave so people kept dying anyway. he DOES think murdering people that walk in the door would be bad for business, so he's just going to toss them in the basement prison that the boss a few years ago helped build. they can die there out of sight and it won't be bad for business. also the rats plan? totally insane! instead he's going to suggest that they cook the rats. which is different. somehow. any time staff or customers complain he says "i feel you, I know, it's really tragic, I can't believe that other guy did this to you. I promise you, I will stop him from doing all these things again." while still doing all of this. now, he's best BEST friends with ANOTHER nearby restaurant owner who locked all the old employees in a really shitty basement without food and water and is now having a great time sending his employees down to routinely just shoot them in the head. these two are best friends and this guy is actually taking money out of everyone's paychecks to help his buddy buy more guns to shoot more people in the head. BUT!!!! he really loves the color blue, which a lot of the employees also really like (or at least it's better than red even if they actually like green). and he promised like 2 years ago to give everyone a pay raise. he hasn't, but he said he would!!

and you say hey uuuuh both of these guys fucking suck actually and so have all our managers and I don't think either of them should be manager here because this is fucking insane

and your coworkers look at you like you just killed a dog and say, "oh my god how could you say that? what do you even mean? if you don't want the second guy to be manager the first guy is going to be manager and he's WAYYYY worse because HE likes RED!!!! you HAVE to support the second but because he likes BLUE and it's soooo much better. what the fuck is wrong with you? ugh you know what I bet you're actually a spy from that other restaurant sent here to destabilize our restaurant which was doing just great."

anyway that's what it's like in the united states rn we're all doing great thanks for asking :)

[dish-licker]

Glamgreg (Freddy/Gregory) stuff (and some SB Ruin spoilers) under the cut:

I know the possibility of evil Gregory is a bummer for my fellow Glamgreg fans, but consider this variety of GGY!Gregory headcanons:

Despite Freddy's innate goodness, he's so devoted to Gregory that he will do anything for him, even to the extent of killing innocent people because Gregory tells him to.

Gregory thinking of Freddy as a toy, tool and bodyguard all in one, a loyal automaton for him to command...but eventually falling in love with Freddy. Gregory reversing the changes he's made to Freddy's code, because he wants to know of Freddy really does love him back, or if it's only because of the altered code. (Fluff route...Freddy really does love him, even with his code reverted. Which is kind of evidenced in SB? Safe mode Freddy didn't remember Gregory, but he still protected him.) (Or angst route...with the hack reverted, Freddy is horrified to learn that he's been under Gregory's control and appalled by all the things Gregory has done. Backing away from Gregory. 'You...You are a monster'.)

Freddy who isn't hacked at all, so Gregory has to keep pretending to be an ordinary kid around him, hiding the dark aspects of himself. He's terrified that Freddy will find out and he'll lose him, so he does more and more awful things to try to cover up his past and tie up loose ends.

Freddy, an 8 foot tall, incredibly powerful animatronic, who has a good and gentle heart. And Gregory, a smaller than average 12 year old boy, who is secretly a ruthless, sociopathic genius. Opposites in every way, but they love each other and would do anything to protect each other.

Rich kid Gregory who is so privileged and brilliant, but he's so fucking alone. His friends don't understand him and his parents don't have time for him. He has this fixation on Freddy, a weird childhood crush, so he hacks Freddy to love him back. Even to do things that defy his original directives...to service Gregory in whatever way he asks...and Gregory knows it's pathetic, that he's just a lonely boy who needed to program a lover for himself, but still he goes back to Freddy night after night.

That same Gregory, and everything he's done in SB and Ruin was to keep Freddy. The hidden therapist tapes: The counselors he lured to their death in the Pizzaplex were too close to finding out what Gregory was doing, they were going to tell someone and stop him from visiting Freddy. Security Breach: breaking Freddy out of the Pizzaplex so he could keep him always. Ruin: The Mimic was going to follow Cassie back to Gregory, destroying the happiness he's managed to obtain now that Freddy is with him. He couldn't let that happen. His love for Freddy is fanatical, fierce, selfish, toxic, all consuming.

Gregory, in love with Freddy and visiting the Pizzaplex everyday to see him, notices how close Freddy and Bonnie are. Their chemistry on stage together. But Freddy is HIS. So he reprograms Monty to lure Bonnie to the golf course after the Pizzaplex closes and tear him apart. When Pizzaplex employees discover the wreckage of Bonnie, Gregory forges an email from upper management, ordering that Bonnie shouldn't be rebuilt. He should be scrapped and replaced instead. And Freddy is sad, but Gregory knows he'll get over it. After all...Freddy has him, and that's the important thing, right?

Bonus: fucked up version of Freddy who has been desperately trying to suppress his attraction to children, which is clearly a malfunction in his code. When he finds out that Gregory isn't the innocent young boy he pretends to be, Freddy is like...You are broken, too. He gives into his corrupted desires. He follows Gregory's commands, killing anyone Gregory asks him to, and Gregory repays Freddy by letting him do whatever he'd like with his body. There's something fun about a transactional relationship, a disinterested Gregory allowing a lust-addled Freddy to touch him, maybe while he's playing games on his phone and barely paying attention.

[ajoytobeheld]

Ellen: it's been an awfully big adventure

December 7th, 2012

I don’t know how to start this, other then diving right in so….I’ll dive.

It is with a sad face I have to report that I am leaving Los Campesinos!. The show on the 15th of December in London will be my last, and I shall spend it struggling not to cry. Please don’t point out my tears if you come along. Simply pretend it is eye sweat.

Over the last seven years I have been blessed, not by God, because he doesn’t exist, but with opportunities and a life I will not fully appreciate until I am about forty-five. I will look back at old photos of the band, with our smooth skin and questionable hair, and go “fuck me. That was mental.”

The past and present members of Los Campesinos! have been my family for the last seven years and seen me at my lowest, my highest, my most angry, sad, happy, broken, fixed, grown up and immature. They have seen me fail, succeed, let myself and them down, learn the hard way, but they have also seen me grow. And they have always had my back, and I hope, I sincerely hope, I have done my best to have theirs.

There is not a terribly exciting reason for me leaving, (so please start some exciting rumours), I am just going to try something new. Fulfil my ambitions of becoming a failed writer and developing a opium habit. It’s all going to be very retro. I leave with the upmost love and support from the band, but I have requested my replacement not be too cool.

I would say I am sad to go, but that is too simple a word for the variety of emotions I have swimming around my head right now. I am sad, but mostly I am drowning in warm and happy flashbacks, vinaigrette images of us all laughing in the van on long drives across America. Joe Puleo, tour manager, at the front telling a story, Jason playing quizmaster and hosting a game of “Guess the Song,” from an app he has downloaded, and we all scream out responses. Rob taking photos of the scenery on his lomo, Neil watching gangster epics on his laptop, and maybe later on this long long drive Paul and Tom will play Tiger Woods Golf whilst I work out how long I can hold my bladder for before requesting we stop. I was the most frequenter pee needer on long drives. I am not ashamed of this. I owned it.

I felt warm and safe on those drives, listening to everyone tell stories, share experiences, make each other laugh. I am lucky to have shared a hotel room with so many exceptional ladies over the years, Aleks, Harriet and especially Kim, who shared my fear of the cold, love of porridge and put up with my ability to make a mess in any room in under 5 seconds. Starting and ending the day together, we did some good chatting.

I have seen a lot of this world, and I didn’t have to go on a gap year to do it. I have travelled across the breadth and depth of the US and the UK and I have seen a lot of different faces, and sampled a lot of backstage humus.I have seen a lot of graffitied backstage cocks.

I have met and worked with countless wonderful, interesting and horrifically talented people inside the industry, inside the venues, inside the recording studie and inside our practice space. (I won’t gush too much about how talented the people in the band are, you might get diabetes from my sincerity, but it has been a pleasure and a privilege to play the music that Tom writes.)

Also fans. Fans are awesome. You made it possible for us record an album in Seattle. To play a show outside of Wales. To play in a baseball stadium in Japan. A haunted restaurant in Santa Cruz. a handful of US universities and see Mexico! I saw Mexico! You girls and guys are truly humbling, and I hope I never took you for granted too much. I probably did. Thank you for knowing the words, for bringing cakes, and books, and t-shirts, and comics, and buying us drinks and for waiting and driving miles and cheering and clapping. For reading or watching or listening to anything we have ever done. Thanks. You kept us going and will continue to be the life blood of the Los Campesinos! family.

I was trawling through old photos trying to find the best one to represent a start and an ending, but I got lost in old memories and the process of ageing.

(God we looked young, look at our skin! Look at our clothes! Cardigans and ripped up Distillers t shirts, oh I still have that.)

I have eons of photos of the band at the start, at rehearsals, house parties, with experimental hair, (mine black, Gareth long and wispy, Neil’s fringe nearly covering his eyes and Tom always wearing his hat) and at our first shows. I remember when we first started, our summer of label romance where everyone wanted to take us out for a pub meal, and all we ever did was go out in Cardiff drinking and dancing. We said we would change our last names to Campesinos! if we ever played in the states, but we tempted fate, and we never changed out names but we did get to go to America a lot.

I sometimes wonder what alternative universe me would be doing if she didn’t go to that first rehearsal in Ollie’s bedroom. I think she is picking her nose right now in a bath of baked beans, bored and crazy because she spent all day in an office sitting next to a woman who told her about the time she slept with a navy seal. No one cares Brenda.

So 500 plus gigs, millions of air miles, gallons of backstage whisky and wine, a tonne of sweaty cheese and pita bread, a litre of tears shed on stage, hundreds of “don’t fuck up,” panics, hundreds of fuck ups, hundreds of “this is blowing my mind” moments whilst starring into a sea of unfamiliar and impassioned faces, break ups and ill advised hook ups later (don’t date musicians, like ever, we’re all mental,) I realise I have seen all the travel lodges, service stations, and states of America (apart from Alaska) and I have tasted more Marks and Spencer’s meals then I thought possible. I’ve been with some of the finest people I know doing a very unnatural thing, which is both the best and the worst experience and often at the same time, but never the same any given year. And we have done it fucking well. The best we can.

God I’m being dramatic, but I can’t help it, I was a middle child.

So some more self-indulgence.

I want to thank some people for being ace. John Goodmanson – a brilliant producer and a lesson in style and grace under pressure. Joe Puleo – the best tour manager, you never feel anything but safe in his company. Kelly Pickard – inspiration, mentor, wisest woman. Paul Rattcliff- The loyalist soundman whom gives so much. Kev and Alun and Mark Bowen, Wichita, Ben and Vicky, Gareth Dobson, anyone we have toured with or supported or who I have met along the way, everyone I forgot. I haven’t forgot, I am thinking about you.

My mum, because she told me I could be anything and do anything except get my tongue pierced. And I did that anyway, and she still wasn’t mad at me.

And the band.. Kim, Jason, Gareth, Tom, Neil and Rob who I will miss sharing experiences with that no one will understand, I love you guys. Like, loads. From our first Sweet Dreams, until our last, thanks.

Okay, too long, too emo. Bye bye.

Ellen x

[dogwittaablog]

ya I remember asking you the whole how he would approach dating seriously vs hook ups and everything. In the sense like how would he feel like meeting someone he sees himself falling for/how would he feel and think about falling in love/introducing someone to his family and friends. Would he be scared out of his mind? I don’t think he’s ever been in love and I don’t think he allows himself to fall, so how would he even act when he falls in love unexpectedly and he couldn’t see it coming and its hard and fast. What’s this dude’s dream girl like personality/interests wise? And like I feel like his family and besties are very important to him and he’d be hella nervous and excited for what they’d think about a girl. And I think they’d also be so curious to see who managed to get him to settle down after 5-6 years of the bachelor lifestyle. Not gonna lie I wanted a whole psychological breakdown about all of this because I love the way you keep it a 100 with him but you put in so much effort with the fanfic writing I didn’t have the heart to tell you back then. Sorry for the super long rant lol

In all honesty that's probably a really hard question to address who exactly he'd fall in love with and how. Since love is a really deep emotion, he'd probably find it overwhelming and scary since it'd be a new territory for him and he doesn't come off as someone who's easily vulnerable.

If I could picture someone ideal that would suit him it'd definitely be an independent and self assured individual, like he'd really appreciate someone who has their own goals and ambitions. Who's able to provide and do things for themselves without constantly relying on him. (He's never struck me as the kind of person that would make anyone a stay at home girlfriend and just let them take his card and buy whatever lmao). Don't see him liking to feel the need to baby someone or fix every small problem they have, or have them nag for attention constantly either.

The person is a good mix of being introverted and extroverted, knows when to just stay in to chill and knows when to have fun and go out. Is able to match the mood accordingly. He likes them goofy for sure, someone who's carefree/no drama and is able to push his buttons in a good way (Just imagine a female TK). Probably would want someone who lets him indulge in his hobbies without judgement (Especially hunting and the 6+ hours at the golf course with the boys lmao). A big bonus is if they're already into the same hobbies, or if they're willing to participate and learn.

When it comes to introducing he’d probably be fairly anxious and probably thinking of all the potential embarrassing stories and photos they’ll see/hear of him + just hoping they’ll all be accepting. “Wow Nolan finally brought a girl over! It’s been ages!”

There is no doubt he values his parents and sisters opinion on who he brings home, but he seems like he values his dad's opinion the most idk why. I think cause he's such a daddies boy and it's pretty evident he goes to him for advice and whenever he needs a heart to heart. So if whomever impresses his dad, would probably have a better chance of staying around longer. Not saying his mom and sisters opinion don't matter, but it's not that big of a significance compared to good old Steve. His friends would probably have the least say in everything, they’d just want him happy with a good person.

[aff1uence]

𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑻𝒀  𝑭𝑨𝑰𝑹  𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺  ...  a  lie  detector  test . 

"  we're  going  to  be  taking  a  lie  detector  test  today.  you  will  be  hooked  up  to  the  machine,  and  we  will  ask  you  a  series  of  questions  -  whether  you  tell  the  truth  or  lie  is  up  to  you,  but  the  test  wil  be  able  to  snitch  out  any  lies."

this  feels  like  a  dream  come  true  for  the  up - and - comer .  "  i  am  so  fuckin'  stoked  about  this ,  man .  you  have  no  idea .  "  finn laughs warmly .

"  to  start,  what  is  your  first  name  and  what  city  are  we  in  ?  "

clapping  his  hands  together  in  excitement ,  finn  gives  the  camera  a  charming  but  goofy  smile .  "   i'm  finn  and  we  are  here  in  the  big  apple ,  my  home .  "  

"  thank  you.  how  are  you  feeling  today  ?  "

"  like  i'm  having  an  out - of - body  experience  or  something ,  "  he  explains  jovially .  "  this  is  the  kind  of  shit  you  see  like  ...  big  big  names  doing ,  you  know ?  "

"  understandable.  how  about  an  easier  one  -  what's  your  favourite  colour  ?  "

"  blue ,  like  lake  water .  i  grew  up  near  two  massive  lakes ,  spent  all  my  afternoons  there .  "  seeing  that  particular  dark  blue  always  bring  him  back .

"  and  your  favourite  film  genre ?  "

"  i  like  a  little  bit  of  everything .  i  love  a  good  art - house  film ,  especially  one  that  will  suddenly  just  hit  you  two  weeks  later .  "

"  let's  see  -  what  is  one  thing  you  wouldn't  be  found  without ?  "

"  obviously  my  phone !  i  have  a  horrible  sense  of  direction ,  i  would  literally  get  lost  going  to  my  local  bodega  if  it  wasn't  for  having  google  maps  on  my  phone .  "  he  laughs .

"  keeping  it  light,  what's  your  drink  of  choice  ?  "

finn  furrows  his  brows ,  glancing  to  the  side  where  his  pr  manager  sits .  they  give  him  a  non - committal  shrug  and  he  turns  his  attention  back  to  the  interviewer .  "  seeing  as  i  don't  drink  anymore  ...  just  a  good  old  sprite  or  7 - up  or  something .   "

"  which  of  the  following  have  you  attended,  and  would  you  attend ?  "

bold  what's  been  attended,  italicize  what  would  attend  /  attend  again.

the  ballet.  the  met  gala.  the  horse  track.  the  race  track.  a  yacht  party.  the  opera.  the  orchestra.  a  broadway  show.  a  shakespeare  production.  a  concert.  a  comedian.  an  (  american  )  football  game.  a  soccer  /  football  game.  a  documentary  film.  a  film  premiere.  a  polo  game.  art  museum.  wine  tastings.  nyc  sightseeing  tour.  celebrity  sightseeing  tours.  haunted  tours.  charity  galas.  fashion  shows.  fashion  week.  disneyworld  /  disneyland.  a  basketball  game.  a  hockey  game.  a  baseball  game.  a  boxing  match.  a  cricket  match.  the  golf  course.  the  olympics.  

"  oooh,  we're  jumping  into  something  a  bit  heavier  now.  what  is  the  one  thing  you  want  to  achieve  in  life  ?  "

"  win  an  emmy ,  i  think .  "  it's  a  little  of  a  low - ball  answer ,  but  it  is  the  truth .  so  many  of  his  dreams  had  been  coming  true  lately ,  it's  hard  for  him  to  imagine  something  too  extravagant .  "  which  might  be  doable  ...  we've  submitted  stick  season  for  their  consideration  so  ...  finger's  crossed !  "

"  who  knows  what  the  fates  have  in  store.  how  do  you  feel  about  reputation.com ?  it's  ​​​​​​​all  ​​​​​​​anyone  ​​​​​​​seems  ​​​​​​​to  be  ​​​​​​​talking  about  lately."

"  you  guys  are  brutal  sometimes  !  i  kind  of  love  that .  though  i  want  to  make  sure  never  to  get  on  your  bad  side .  "  

"  everyone  is  entitled  to  their  own  opinion,  i  guess.  what's  the  weirdest  /  craziest  headline  you've  read  about  yourself  there  ?  "

"  i  think  i  saw  a  headline  saying  that  i  have  like  5  dogs ?  i  really  wish !  "

"  what's  something  you  are  currently  working  on  ?  "

"  some  absolute  bangers ,  man  !  i  have  some  really  cool  collaborations  coming  up  that  i  can't  say  anything  about  yet ,  but  ...  soon .  "

"  i'll  look  forward  to  it.  one  last  official  question  -  and  it's  an  easier  one.  cats  or  dogs ?  "

"  i  guess  i  kind  of  gave  my  answer  away  earlier ,  but  definitely  dogs .  though  i  respect  cats .  they  have  boundaries ,  that's  cool .  "

"  personally,  i'm  a  dog  fan  anyday.  anything  else  you'd  like  to  add ?  "

"  this  has  been  super  cool .  i  kind  of  wish  i  could  get  one  of  these  for  my  place ,  this could  be  an  amazing  party  game .  " 

"  well,  thank  you  so  much  for  joining  us  today  ​​​​​​​-  can't  ​​​​​​​wait  ​​​​​​​to  ​​​​​​​have  ​​​​​​​you  ​​​​​​​back  ​​​​​​​with  ​​​​​​​us  soon."

[scythc]

ver masterlist: canon only muses are exempted ( canon div // crossover )

directory

sylvain : crimson flower

haibara* : sherry , ova 9 , civilian // bnha , death note , hp , dnd/fantasy , fe3h , black butler/victorian , d:bh , tlou/apocalypse

mephisto* : young god , legacy , eldritch // lawyer/hitman , dnd , d:bh , bnha , fe3h , hp

henry : divergent // spn cw

sujin* : old money , harpist , influencer

seungho* : influencer , mua , college

jordan : modern , historical // stranger things

lady : youth , queendom , modern // spn cw

laurent : escapee , unchanged // hp

robin : survivor , modern

* verses are explained in depth within respective biographies

sylvain, crimson flower : defected to the adrestian empire. post-war, he is granted control over old gautier territory, though it is renamed to fit the meritocratic values of emperor edelgard's rule. also appointed as an emissary of state and sent on missions to sreng and almyra. by his own proposal request, he is ultimately appointed an indefinite stay in almyra for the purpose of working on the fodlan-almyra treaty and improving bi-lateral relations.

HENRY CREEL

divergent : after escaping from the facility, he does not kill his parents and attempts to rejoin the play due to patty's request. however, after suffering dr. brenner's provocation during the play and causing of patty's fall, he is dismayed. believing patty to be dead and feeling completely betrayed by his parents, he flees hawkins in search for people like himself.

spn cw : a boy with impure blood. unexplainable things happen to him; even though he tries his hardest to be good, something compels him to do dark and evil things. though, on second thought, is it really so bad to feel like he's been chosen for something special...? ( one of azazel's children. )

JORDAN BAKER

modern : sports science student. on scholarship as a pro-golfer.

historical : a noble who grew up defying the stereotypes of her time. learning how to cast on a specific veneer in order to please society and working through those constraints to rise into a position of power, she secured marriage to a figure-head who was content to let her run things as she preferred .

stranger things : a final-year student at hawkins high. a young girl with dreams of making a name for herself in the golfing world. all she just wants to keep her head down, graduate asap, and get into a big college with a sports scholarship. as far as she knows, the disappearances & weird happenings around town have absolutely nothing to do with her.

LAURENT DURAND

escapee : managing to escape the suspicion and psychological warfare of camille's mother, he leaves therese for dead along the banks of the river seine and attempts to starts a new life elsewhere . however, rotten roots struggle to take hold. he is left disturbed, wandering and bereft; a little darker & changed for good .

002. unchanged : having never met therese , he spends the rest of his university life in a haze of hedony . graduates on his father's dime & rides coattails to become an opportunistic , corrupt lawyer . this is a man who's learnt the ins - and - outs of the judicial system for the sole purpose of exploiting its loopholes .

hp : neutral pureblood slytherin. takes his father's position in the ministry for-granted, seeing it as a given that he'll ascend ministry ranks in the same way. he's not entirely wrong: after graduating, he becomes part of the dmle before being promoted as a wizengamot trial judge merely 5 years after. since, he has work where he worked during the commencement of the battle of hogwarts .

LADY MACBETH

youth : a bastard daughter, shunned by the head of house. the unfortunate circumstances leave her ambitious & power-hungry, and she vows to improve her societal position, no matter the cost.

queendom : sanity hangs on by a thin thread. ghostly whispers surround her, a cacophony of agony, voices of the good men she had clambered over to reach the bloody top. this is her happy ending, she tells herself. and when night comes, she washes her hands clean . sin, absolve, and repeat. madness is her old friend.

modern : a cutthroat business woman. runs macbeth industries as a shadow director.

spn cw: growing up unnatural in a highly religious community is a sin. since youth, she's had an unusual sensitivity towards spirits and hears voices in her head. they drive her mad and compel her to do terrible & unexplainable things. ( angel / psychic )