#like they essentially said no news is good news and i could have called them for an update if i really needed to

[nonuggetshere]

So they didn't become void, they were "born" that way

In FaaF there are different species and kinds of higher beings (still a MASSIVE work in progress tbh, trying to figure out how these cunts work, but for now I'm thinking they're extremely rare species with far greater abilities and lifespans than a normal bug's that have a chance to ascend to true godhood (but even if they don't ascend that doesn't stop mortals from worshipping them as they're already very god-like from a normal bug's perspective)), "pale beings" being one of these kinds/mutations.

Well, there was also a different kind once, "void beings", but they all went extinct a very long time ago by the beginning of the story. Shade Lord was one, and last, of them and it lost its life in a fight with Radiance - the same fight that drove her to make her permanent residence in the dream realm out of her new-found fear of death (which backfired spectacularly ngl). Its body was buried in the Abyss, where it broke apart and decayed, or decayed as much as a non-living thing can, before it was unearthed many ages later by the pale wyrm.

Not much is known about them since they've been gone for so long, and the vessels are the only void beings remaining, but since they're not "pure" void beings it'd be foolish of anyone to assume that the ancient extinct species behaved the same way as these ones do. But they were generally greatly feared thanks to the void's freaky, dangerous properties, which partly lead to their extinction as some of the other higher beings purposefully attacked and killed them whenever they stumbled across one out of fear. Now the only thing remaining of them are the rare void sources, where their former bodies still refuse to fully die.

Shade Lord does get accidentally resurrected in the story bc of all the tomfoolery happening with its body before almost immediately getting killed again by Ghost who inherits its title and reign. Don't ask me how that works, haven't figured that out yet. Magic god shit or something idk LMAO

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[bubblegumbeyotch]

.

[wilwheaton]

For some odd reason, moderator Jake Tapper told Trump in the beginning that he didn't need to answer the questions and that he could use the time however he wanted. Trump ran with that, essentially giving a rally speech whenever he had the floor and was unresponsive to the vast majority of the questions. He made faces and insulted Biden to his face, at one point calling him a criminal and a Manchurian candidate. If anyone had said 10 years ago that this would happen at a presidential debate they would have been laughed out of the room. After the debate when most of the country had turned off cable news or gone to bed, CNN aired its fact check. [...] Even had Joe Biden been at the top of his game, he would not have been able to parry all those lies and he shouldn't have been put in the role of being Donald Trump's fact checker. His choice was to either ignore the lies and let them stand so he could use his time to make his own case or spend the entire debate correcting the record. It was not a fair fight. It's obvious that Biden's terrible performance has caused panic among Democrats and liberal pundits and analysts. The calls for him to withdraw are loud and meaningful and it's going to be a very rough period in this campaign whatever happens. For me, this isn't really a question. As long as Donald Trump is on the ballot, I will vote for the Democratic nominee. If it's Biden or someone else, the calculation remains the same. Nothing is worse than another Trump administration and I suspect that at the end of the day Democratic voters will agree with that. So it's still a matter of those undecided voters in swing states, just like it was on Thursday morning.

CNN's debate was no fair fight

CNN, yet again, gave Trump a national stage to vomit an endless stream of unchecked lies, and today, CNN is telling itself and anyone who will listen that the network and its moderators did a great job. That’s just plainly false, and America is paying the price for their failure.

That doesn’t let Biden off the hook. Biden had a terrible night. He was so bad, it’s allowed the political press to completely ignore not just how much Trump lied, but what he lied about: January 6, all his indictments, his Covid response, and on and on. President Biden was a disaster, and his campaign should be at DefCon 1 to try and repair all the damage. I am terrified that his awful performance will obscure his surprisingly good record and leadership in the post-insurrection era, and give the political press an excuse to run with “Biden is old” in the face of Trump’s endless lies, his felony convictions, his pending trials, and all of his criminality. Someone at Salon said that Trump didn’t win, but Biden absolutely lost. I can’t argue with that, even if the facts are all on Biden’s side.

I’ve seen President Biden on TV today, and even last night after the debate, where he didn’t come across as an ancient dude who needs a walker on his way to some Matlock reruns. He looks and sounds like the SOTU Biden we all expected would show up last night. I have no idea why he was so awful for 99% of the debate (the campaign says he has a cold), and I have no idea why the guy who is showing up to speak to supporters today, and who delivered the SOTU didn’t show up last night to save America from Trump, again.

But we have to live with this reality now, and I hope like hell that the Biden campaign, the candidate, and the entire Democratic party apparatus scrambles like fucking crazy to get all hands on deck to fix this, and remind voters that

This isn’t about BIden vs. Trump. This is about America vs. Project 2025.

There will be no second debate where Biden can try to salvage something out of the wreckage of this one. Trump has everything to lose and nothing to gain. Trump will crow about how he won, and declare he has no reason to debate again, and he’s right. Biden had one shot and he absolutely blew it. The moderators did not help, but the campaign had to have known they wouldn’t, and it sure looks like they didn’t prepare Biden for what we all knew was coming. I don’t know how those same people stop the bleeding, and if they can’t, America and the world are in real, real trouble.

But we all have to remember that we have a choice to make in just a few months. Right now, and probably on election day, the choice is between Joe Biden and Democracy, or Donald Trump and Fascism. It’s stark, it’s clear, it’s binary, and I can not believe that it is even a question. I just hope that there are enough voters out there who will understand that we do have a choice. The options suck, but we do have a choice.

Please choose Democracy. Please choose America. Please choose the future world our children will inherit from us.

[rboooks]

The Royal Consort Part 2

Danny nervously took a sip out of the coffee mug. The rich liquid, filled with surgery goodness and creamer, helped settle his nerves as he tried to think of what to say.

Across from him sat Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and a man named John Constantine. Besides Danny, Jazz, and his parents sat, though only Jazz seemed unfazed by the situation, staring back at the heroes as if daring them to start a conversation first.

Sometimes he forgot she was the most mentally stable one in the family.

The Dark Knight had said nothing to him since he was brought up to the watch tower, the white lens of his mask staring back at Danny with no hint of emotion behind them.

This contrasts Superman, who had warmly offered them coffee and pie as they were brought into the meeting room. The man of steel had even allowed them all to pick a mug from the gift shop free of charge, smiling warmly when Danny hesitantly asked for a Martian Manhunter theme.

Wonder Woman had given him a courteous bow befitting her status. She seemed eager to sit down and get the peace summit going as soon as possible. It seemed she had prepared various speeches, bills, and other essential documents Danny had yet to understand in his Government Studies class. She offered the young man a warm smile whenever his eyes nervously wandered to her.

John Constantine mainly had remained silent past the few swears under his breath. He fiddled with Danny's necklace- the Royal Consort necklace. How could he have been so stupid to wear that around his neck for so long without realizing what it was? It did explain why that particular necklace had a whole room to be displayed in.

It was in the center, on a lavish pillow, on a pure marble pillar. Surrounding it were six more miniature lockets, each on their own less extravagant pillar and pillow, with similar symbols. The smaller ones almost tempted Danny until he saw that this necklace had white and red, his favorite colors.

The others had been black and red.

He wonders now what the lockets meant and if giving one to Dani had been a mistake. He hadn't had the time to text her, seeing as he had been whisked away by the Justice League as soon as he woke up.

He was escorted out of his home before ten am with news crews tripping over themselves to get a few shots of Ecto-Royalty. They had his house surrounded, flashes and questions coming from all sides as the paparazzi struggled to be the first to get Consort Daniel Fenton to comment for them.

Danny swears Sam had been one of them, laughing silly with Tucker, who had somehow gotten a hold of a prominent news camera. The two had likely thought his secret had been outed and were trying to sneak him away while pretending to be media.

"Come on. Come on," Constantine muttered in frustration, poking a glowing finger into the center of his locket. Each time he did, a soft ding went off in Danny's head, and he fought to not react. He thinks Batman had seen his flinch the first time it happened, but he hadn't said anything about it yet, so Danny hoped he was wrong.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Danny grimaces as the sound replays over and over again before he can't take it anymore and finally speaks up. "Could...could you not do that to my necklace?"

Constantine blinks, then hastily places his locket on the table as if it burned him. "Forgive me, your Majesty. I meant no disrespect."

"It's cool dude. You, ugh, don't have to call me that, by the way. Danny is fine."

The magic-user shakes his head. "Forgive me, your Majesty, but I could not do something so disrespectful. I can switch to Prince Danny, but never Danny. If His Majesty Phantom were to hear me make such a blunder, it could break apart any form of peace. I'm sure you know how much ghost value rules."

Danny thinks of the Yearly Treaty, Walker with his prison, The Observant's court, Clockwork's time frames, and even Far Frozen formal speech. He sighs. "Yeah, Phantom won't care, but his subjects will."

"Exactly."

"Speaking of King Phantom, would he be joining us soon?" Wonder Woman asks. Danny has a moment of panic before Jazz smoothly steps in.

"Phantom and Danny agree to not have him appear if Danny is near our parents." She says, gesturing to their horrified parents.

"What?" Mom looks close to tears, guilt making her face seem much older than Danny has ever thought possible. "Honey, is this true?"

Danny shifts in his seat. "Yes?"

"Oh Honey, why?"

"What are we going to do today, Jack?" Jazz cuts in again in a poor imitation of their mom. She deepens her voice, trying to match Dad's happy-go-lucky tune as she dramatically shakes her fist. "What we do every day, Maddie. Try to capture the ghost boy and rip him molecule by molecule!"

The other heroes make faces, but nothing compares to the devastated expressions on his parents' faces. He almost told them it was okay, that he had forgiven them, but Jazz glanced sharply in his direction and knew it was best not to say anything.

She has often said the only way he could rally heal from all the unintended trauma their parents inflected on them- not just the hunting but slight negligence- was to have them first see exactly what they had done. It would be harsh, but it would be necessary.

"Makes sense" That is all Dad says. He's been so quiet since this morning. Danny is worried about him.

"That explains why he hasn't answered the summons." Constantine sighs. Danny opens his mouth to ask, but Superman beats it to him.

"You were summoning him?"

"Attempting to." Constantine corrects. "Prince Danny's locket has a calling bacon in it. Someone pressing magic against the center alerts King Phantom that his husband wants to speak to him. It's difficult magic too. Anyone with less control or power would be blown to smithers if they attempt it. Or, in Prince Danny's case tapping his finger against it works too since the necklace is for him. "

"Would anyone with the necklace be able to call Phantom then?" Batman finally speaks up. His voice makes Danny jump in his seat. It sounds a lot....darker than he thought a human could make.

"No. The necklace would only work if Prince Danny willingly let someone have it. If someone tried to take it by force, the necklace would transport itself back to King Phantom's lair or Prince Danny's person."

Danny clears his throat. ''Phantom and I have other rules. He can only come to see me if I'm not in school or if one of his subjects is attacking Amity Park. Otherwise, he mostly stays within the Infinity Realms."

Constantine nods as if that makes perfect sense. "The strain on your body must make it difficult to keep your husband here."

Danny nods, then takes another sip.

"If you don't mind me asking. How did you meet King Phantom?" Superman asks.

"I'm....a meta. I can make my eyes glow in the dark and I can turn invisible." Danny blurts, making both his parents gasp. Jazz nods as if it was common knowledge and not something Danny made up on the spot.

Those two abilities have always been more linked to his emotions, so Danny thought if he established a fake meta gene as the cause if he was later caught doing them, no one would bat an eye. The world was watching him now, he needed to be careful. "It's nothing really impressive, but I guess the day I activated it caught his attention."

"How so?"

"Um, well I was playing in my parents' lab when my best friends dared me to go into the portal. I thought it wouldn't work, so I did, but it launched me into the zone as soon I stepped into it. Phantom was this big ice looking thing flying by when I was falling in the zone- they don't really have ground in there. Everything was floating, but I just started falling and screaming since I couldn't fly. He caught me and offered to help me back to my home. The only thing was I didn't know how to go home, which way was up or down, and I didn't know how long I was gone. We tried to fly for a while, but the Infinite Realms always change. By that time, my home portal had moved to who knew where. Phantom took me to his lair to rest, Phantom, since he thought I was a baby ghost because my eyes glowed until I accidentally cut my hand on one of his icicles and bled-"

"You allowed your human blood to fall in his lair!?" Constantine sounds horrified. Oops? Maybe, stealing one of Frost Bites' few human encounter stories wasn't the brightest thing he could have done?

Oh well, he's already so far into the story. "Yeah, he reacted the same way. I freaked and turned myself invisible when he saw my blood."

"Blimey, I knew King Phantom is a protective spirit, but to think he didn't do anything to you once he found out you are a human- a virgin human no less- in his own lair? Benevolent is too little of a word for him."

Yeah, Danny really didn't like the sound of that. Sadly Constantine didn't seem willing to continue that line of conversation, and it would be really suspicious if he asked for more information since he is supposed to be the most informed person here.

After a slight pause, he continues, trying to sound confident. "He helped me get home after a while. Once we found the entrance to Amity Park, he asked if he could come to see me again in the living world. I told him it was fine, but I didn't think he meant it for real. Sam and Tucker- ugh my best friends- said I was only gone for three minutes but I swear it was much longer."

Danny could feel his face heating up. This is so embarrassing to be talking about himself in the third person. He felt so lame.

Jazz gave him an encouraging nod when he peaks at her. At least the others were buying his story.

"The next thing I know, my town is almost overturned by ghosts because, apparently, our passing through the portal stabilized it and established it as a new permanent entrance. I told Phantom, who vowed he keep it safe for me, and yeah, he fumbled a bit in the beginning, but he did a good job. Whenever he needed to fight I had to find somewhere safe to hide, so that I could keep him here, and that's why I missed so much of school and sleep all of freshmen year. His last big fight was against the old king Pariah Dark after the monster took Amity Park into the zone. Once he won, he was crowned and he um gave me this necklace. We've been going ugh, steady since."

The room was silent until Wonder Woman smiles "A most romantic tale Prince Danny."

Ugh, it really was. His face grew even redder as Jazz snorted. "Thank you."

Feeling an intense stare, Danny looks up, only to be met with Batman's emotionless face. "The reason you and King Phantom look exactly alike is that he took your shape, didn't he?"

What.

"That's standard practice." Constantine waves his hand. "Powerful beings that need to anchor themselves to the human realm often take humanoid figures. If King Phantom saw Prince Danny and thought he was the most beautiful person he's ever seen -which is likely since there haven't been any hints of Phantom having any partner before now- he would, of course, make himself look like him. He even copied his parents' hazard suits because he likely thought that would honor them. Am I right, Prince Danny? ."

I could kiss you, English man. Danny thinks gratefully as he nods.

Batman grunts but for a second, Danny thinks he didn't buy it. He doesn't say anything else.

"Well, what about-"

Whatever Wonder Woman was going to say gets cut off by a blur flying into the room. The heroes all spring up into battle positions as the blur rushes Danny. He's about to throw himself before his sister to protect her until the blur slows down.

It's Dani. She's wearing her own necklace too. Shit.

"Are you okay!?" She gasps. "I saw them take you on the TV and came as soon as I could!"

"Who are you?" Superman demands. His clone turns to the other side of the room, hands pose in a fighting stance and the British man gasps.

"Stand down! She's a royal!." He shouts, pointing at her necklace. His blue eyes flicker between the two halfas until they widen dramatically. "Princess, I swear we have done no harm to your father."

Dani tilts her head, momently thrown. "My father?"

"You are wearing the Heir Apparent symbol. I assumed you were made from Prince Danny and King Phantom. I apologize if I am wrong."

"No need. I am made from Danny." Dani smiles, likely unaware that the magic man meant a daughter rather than the correct answer, as in clone.

"I'm a grandmother!?" Mom shouts, and his Dad bursts into tears.

The room descends into chaos.

( Part 1 ) (Part 3)

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Found | 141 & Reader

Summary: When you’re introduced to your new foster parents, a bear hybrid, harpy, werewolf and wraith, four big scary men, you’re not sure about how things are going to turn out. Your first day with them turns out more okay than you expected.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: lotta anxiety, reader is very quiet (sorta non-verbal?), descriptions of sharp teeth, scars, sharp claws, flashbacks (trauma), boundaries being put down (gently), BIG FAT SPIDER

A/N: so this happened…hope you enjoy this word vomit i spewed onto my google doc, and plsss keep the lovely requests coming, I love them<3

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

The front door shut, and the social worker left, leaving you alone with all these tall, strong men who now just stared at you. You stood near the door, backpack over your shoulder, tense as if ready to bolt at the slightest thing.

The men seemed to notice this, the bear hybrid and the harpy exchanging glances, before the former slowly approached you, taking note of how you kept your feet angled to the door, a sure sign you were ready to run. He didn’t blame you. The past children they had fostered had been the same at first, timid, shy, spooking easily. You just seemed to have a worse case of it.

He stopped about a foot in front of you, slowly getting on one of his knees to be almost at eye level with you. The air felt suffocatingly thick. You returned his level gaze with a wary, untrusting one, like a wild animal’s.

“I’m John,”

He spoke. His voice felt like a Sunday night bonfire, the whiskers of a cat, and warm ashes still flickering red. It was a bit comforting, and you wondered why until you saw the way his chest was shaking just a little bit.

He was purring.

You hadn’t even known bear hybrids could purr, but as soon as you realized that, you were back on edge. He knew that even if you were fully human, your body would still relax in response to most forms of purring. He was essentially using your body’s natural responses against you.

“And you are?”

He then asked, bright blue eyes watching you. Observing. All of them were, you could feel it. Especially the maybe-wraith, you could practically feel his eyes digging holes into you.

“Y/N.”

You replied. Your voice shook despite your best efforts to keep it level and calm despite the storm of emotions you were experiencing.

You watched as the werewolf almost lunged forward, stopped only by the wraith, who placed one hand on his shoulder, shaking his head, and the wolf let out a low sound that looked like a whine, ears flattening, but the wraith didn’t budge. Strange.

John nodded, getting back up off of his one knee, gesturing to each other members of the pack one by one, the harpy was first.

“This here is Kyle,”

Kyle gave a gentle smile, eyes full of what seemed like empathy for how uncomfortable he must know you are. They probably knew every single thing you were feeling, considering a hybrid’s insanely good sense of smell. His feathery wings puffed up, then resettled in a matter of seconds.

“Here’s Johnny, but we call ‘im Soap.”

The werewolf. You didn’t know why he was nicknamed ‘Soap’, and you didn’t want to know, either. He gave a sheepish smile, pearly whites gleaming.

“And we’ve got Simon, our Ghost.”

The wraith. He gave a small nod, which looking back, was more like a jerk of his head. His eyes were a dark chocolate brown.

You quickly decided that Kyle was your favorite, for now. John was a close second, and Johnny and Simon were on an equal level.

“Kyle, take ‘er to the room while me and the lads have a chat.”

John said, gesturing you over to Kyle, who waved you over, leading you out of the main living room area, and down a hallway to the right. You dragged your feet, curious to hear what John was having a ‘chat’ with the other boys about.

“…need to quit chompin’ at the bit, Soap, making the girl nervous.”

“Cannae help it, she’s so small—“

“You’d better help it, ‘fore I do for you, Johnny.”

The conversation continued, Kyle glancing back, noticing you lingering back, raising a brow with a little knowing smirk.

“C’mon, nosy. We spent a good few hours putting this room together for you.”

Cheeks heating slightly at being called out, you picked up the pace, beat-up sneakers padding against the wooden floor as you followed the large harpy, observing his feathers, most of them being long, a shade of honey brown fading into a warm blonde, shining under the light, shifting into different shades when you changed the angle you were looking at them from. The shorter feathers looked fluffier like they were just growing in.

You saw a pin feather on his right wing, sandwiched between other feathers.

Unable to resist the temptation, you reached for it, fingers gently enclosing on the crackly, thin casing around the feather, pulling, only for his wings to twitch as he whirled, startling both of you, as you held what had been of the pin feather in your hand.

Both of you stood still for a moment before he must’ve realized what happened, letting out a huff of laughter with an amused sigh. His hand reached out, giving you a little pat on the head.

“Thanks, kid. Just ask next time, yeah? My wings are sensitive.”

He said, and you nodded, shock wearing off right as a voice came from down the hallway.

“Everything alright?”

Sounded like John.

“Yup, just having a grooming session.”

Kyle called back, chuckling to himself as he led the way to a doorway, opening the door to reveal a decent-sized room with a bed, a dresser, and a little desk across from the bed. The walls were a light purple. The floor was wood, with a small circular fuzzy carpet in the room.

It looked comfortable.

Kyle stepped out of the way, gesturing for you to enter your room, and you hesitantly stepped in, eyes scanning every square inch. There was a window to the right of your bed, locked, probably.

After it passed whatever mental test you’d conjured up, you walked over to the bed, nose wrinkling in mild distaste at how the bed was set. The blankets were tucked tightly into the mattress, so you yanked them out, before taking the pillow, putting it on the floor, and kicking the absolute life out of it for a few minutes until it was placed back onto the bed.

You then proceeded to plop into the mess of blankets and sheets, pulling the blanket up over you. It was soft and fluffy but not fuzzy.

“She’s nesting-!”

You heard a voice squeak from the entryway, only to see Johnny grinning like a maniac, pushing Kyle out of the way to see into the room. John was behind him, giving an unimpressed flat stare to the excited Scottish man, and Simon was looming behind Kyle, tall enough to see over his wings.

“Humans don’t nest, Soap.”

Kyle said flatly, and Johnny threw him a glare.

“Well, she’s doing whatever the human equivalent to nesting is.”

He retorted, and Simon gave him a look that said he thought he was brain-dead.

“Making the bed?”

He said, and Johnny huffed, getting into it with Simon while you watched from your bed, listening to them argue, until you got sick of it and pulled the blanket over your head, hiding under it.

“How ain’t that nesting—?”

“I make my bed every mornin’. Don’t mean I’m nesting.”

“Can it, both of you.”

They both shut up after the verbal admonishment, John sighing, and a moment later a man approached the bed slowly, making sure you could hear the wood creaking beneath his feet. He didn’t want to surprise you. You made your mental bets between which one it was.

Johnny’s head popped up from under the blanket a few moments later.

“John says I’m not being very hospitable,”

He said, as if he was whining to you, giving a loud, dramatic sigh that you heard John, who seemed to be walking down the hallway now, grumble at. It almost made you laugh, and he must’ve seen the smile pulling at your lips because he grinned big and wide. Only his head remained under the blanket, the rest of his body kneeling beside the bed.

“How about we play a game, hm? Help ya learn the house a lil while Price and Gaz make dinner.”

You paused, before nodding. The house didn’t have too complicated of a layout, you thought. You’d seen what looked like a second floor, maybe there was a basement.

A hand slid under the blanket, calloused and rough, and you promptly ignored it, simply sliding the blanket off. You weren’t there yet, not with any of them. It would take a good while before you started willingly touching.

“How about…tag?”

You shook your head almost immediately at that one, and once he really thought about it, it made sense. No child would want to be chased around by a big hybrid in a place they don’t know.

“Hide n’ seek?”

You didn’t say anything at first, until nodding.

“You wanna hide or seek first?”

“Hide.”

Hiding was essentially the only part you were good at. You didn’t have the nose to sniff out hiders, but you did have plenty of practice hiding, for various reasons. Being a human wasn’t the easiest. You were prey, essentially, easy to be picked off when alone or vulnerable.

Johnny’s big hand tugged the blankets off, getting up off of his knees, gesturing to the doorway where Simon loomed, sharp eyes watching the werewolf, a slight narrowing of them when they both exchanged gazes, silently communicating.

Johnny turned to face the wall once you both got out into the hallway, the door clicking quietly shut while Simon watched.

“I’m gonna start counting, I’ll give ye a good…20, how’s that?”

He asked with a grin, and you nodded. You didn’t know this house other than the hallway, your room, and the main living room in the front, but you were determined to find a good hiding spot. It might’ve been years since you last played hide and seek with someone his age, but you were competitive.

“20, 19….”

You bolted.

Down the hallway, taking a right, seeing a staircase. You decided to go up.

“18, 17…”

A mini-hallway up the stairs. You took your hoodie off as quickly as possible, opening a door and randomly throwing it inside. The scent would probably throw him off.

“16, 15…”

You slid down the stairs, running down the same hallway, taking another turn, moving past the kitchen where John was stirring a pot and Kyle was cutting vegetables. They raised a brow but didn’t comment as you pulled one shoe off, tossing it around a corner.

“14, 13, 12…”

He was speeding up, the cheat.

You took the other shoe off, finding another door to open, this time being a closet, before throwing it in and shutting the door behind you.

“11, 10, 9…”

With three different things to throw the freakishly good nose most werewolves had off, you figured it was time to find a hiding spot. He was in the single digits now.

“8, 7, 6….”

You rounded a corner, finding a door with a different style handle than the others. It was golden and round, older, while the others were silver and slim. You opened it and were met with darkness and a staircase.

You hesitantly descended, the light switch not working.

“5, 4…”

You needed to find a spot. Now.

The scent of laundry detergents hit your nose when you finally reached the bottom, daylight from a small basement window providing the bare minimum of light to let you see. To the right of the stairs, there was a thin little room that was a laundry room.

All the scents would surely mask yours well, too.

“3, 2, 1…”

You heard his muffled voice grow more excited when he was finally close to being able to start his hunt.

You found a shelf next to the wall with a little crawl space underneath the different cleaners it was holding. Flattening your body to the floor, you squirmed under, struggling to breathe for the first few moments until you adjusted.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

He called out, and you heard the creaking of the floorboards under his feet as he stomped around the house, John calling something out you couldn’t hear from down here.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you suddenly noticed a giant spider and her web only a foot from you. Your skin was suddenly crawling, your imagination running wild, and you heard doors opening and closing upstairs.

The first one.

The second.

The third, he must be getting close.

He’d gone through all your distractions. You heard his heavy panting from here, heard the footsteps coming down the rickety old stairs.

He didn’t even try to flick on the switch.

He wouldn’t have to, not with his built-in night vision. The huffing grew louder as you heard his mutt-like sniffing, deep and full. Your skin began to crawl for a different reason, limbs tensing unconsciously.

He was a predator. He had teeth that could shred you within seconds, claws that could rip you open. And then you weren’t under the shelf anymore.

The scent of wet hay and animals surrounded you as the itchy sawdust rubbed at your skin, leaving it red and irritated.

You heard him before your eyes adjusted enough to see him. The furry form, at least three times bigger than your small body, claws dragging against the walls of the wood, teeth gleaming in the full moonlight.

He wasn’t just finding you, he was enjoying this.

Enjoying being able to sniff out your terror, the scent of it soaking through your clothes without you even knowing.

He paused.

The hay crunched beneath his feet as he shifted, taking a deep whiff of the air, a sound coming out of him resembling a crow’s raspy caw, except it sounded like an imitation of laughter coming from his maw.

The hay crunched again. Closer.

You held your breath, silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

A tail swept by, as if he’d somehow not seen you, but then—

“Rah!”

The familiar Scottish lilt to his voice felt all too comforting compared to what you’d just remembered moments earlier. You think you screamed. Your mouth had opened, you just hadn’t heard the noise coming out.

You tried to make sense of it.

Key word, tried.

He must’ve seen how you sniffled, body shaking slightly and breathing unsteady. He noticed. His hand swiped the large spider, which had been crawling ever close while you hadn’t even noticed, away, his other hand going to lift the shelf for you to get out.

“Jus’ a spider, nothin’ to worry about.”

He mumbled with a small chuckle, watching as you scrambled out from under the old shelf, walking over to the stairs without even needing him to lead you around. It seemed you were eager to get out of the dark.

He didn’t blame you.

The stairs creaked behind you as he headed up, swiping some dust that clung to your hair and clothes still. When you opened the basement door after fumbling for the handle for a moment, you were greeted with your shoes and jacket right near the entrance.

“Clever trick ye pulled, never had such a wee little bairn pull ‘at on me.”

He said with a warm chuckle. At least you’d tricked him a little bit. Even if he’d still found you depressingly fast.

You stepped into your shoes, shifting around until your feet were in properly, picking your jacket up and carrying it with you as you stepped to the side, meaning to let Johnny through, only for your back to hit a warm body as you let out a noise of surprise, whipping your body around as you flinched and jumped nearly a foot back.

It was Simon, who didn’t react much, other than a subtle tilt of his head. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, looking as if he knew something was off.

Johnny raised a brow at the silent staring contest between you and the wraith, shutting the basement door behind him as Gaz’s voice called for them.

“Dinner!”

Simon gave you one last glance, before turning and walking to the table. Johnny flashed you a sympathetic grin.

“Don’ be scared of the brute, he’s really a sweetie underneath it all, just gotta get used to ye is all.”

He said, a bit quieter as if not wanting Simon to overhear. You watched him walk away, having a feeling he heard every word, and that he heard a lot more than he let on.

Johnny tried to place a hand on your back which you jerked away from, murmuring an apology as you followed him to the kitchen. The game of hide and seek helped you learn the layout of the house, but it would still take a while to fully memorize.

The smell of something delicious, namely potatoes and some form of meat and barbecue, reached your nose as Kyle pulled a chair out for you, setting his hat on the seat to your right to claim it, Johnny sitting across from you. Simon’s seat was on one end of the table, and you assumed Price’s seat was on the other end.

It was some form of pot roast, you quickly learned, bowls being passed around the table with napkins and silverware. A glass full of water was put near your plate. The rest of them settled for tea except Johnny. Kyle put a spoonful of sugar and a small container of cream in his tea, mixing it neatly in. Simon drank the tea black. John put half a container of cream in, mixing it in and taking a long drink.

Johnny settled for a can of orange soda the others called ‘pop’.

John put his hands together, bowing his head and closing his eyes in a gesture of prayer. Simon didn’t. Johnny poorly mimicked John, clearly more interested in his food. Kyle mumbled something under his breath on his own, digging into his food right after.

You’d been in houses with religion before. It wasn’t as surprising as it had been at first, with the different concepts of prayer and gods and everything that came with it. You just didn’t know exactly what to do.

You looked around the table, John praying, Kyle eating quickly but nearly, and Johnny quickly mumbling under his breath. Simon was the only one eating slowly, taking his time. Probably because of the scar that ran over his lips, leaving a bit of his canine exposed.

He didn’t get the chance to eat fast.

You accidentally locked eyes with him, unsure of what to do. It felt rude to stare, but you couldn’t just back down from the silent challenge in his brown eyes, seeming to dare you to keep looking, assuming you wouldn’t.

He’d watched your eyes dart around, a look he’d seen too many times before. You didn’t know what to do.

He paused, still not breaking eye contact as he slowly blinked, scarred fingers closing around his glass as he raised it to meet halfway between you two. It took you a few seconds to realize what he was doing, brows furrowed in confusion before releasing with realization as you picked your glass up, lifting it to clink against his.

The sound brought both Johns out of their prayers, John chuckling as he raised his glass, Johnny and Kyle soon to follow.

“To our new little bugger.”

Simon muttered, brown eyes glittering with mirth as he glanced down at you, lips twitching almost up.

And as the rest of them filled the space with chatter and words, you thought that maybe, even if it wasn’t always easy or comfortable at first, you could be happy here.

Maybe.

Next —>

Tags:

@thriving-n-jiving

@simonrileysown

@theartgremlin2 

@theartgremlin

[bisexualiteaa]

Domestic Serenity

Soft Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Fem reader

Synopsis: You and Cooper return to your settlement you set up, it being the closest thing you could call a home on those harsh days in the sun and from the rad storms. After too many close run it’s lately out in the wastelands, Cooper comes home from the market to appreciate the closest thing you guys have to a post apocalyptic little slice of domestic life and show you how much he cares about you.

CW: Smut MDNI! Slight OOC Cooper, slight deviance from the show, oral (fem receiving) dirty talk, established relationship, unprotected sex, p in v, irradiated cream pie, p0rn w/o plot, reader has a southern accent, Cooper being a perv, Cooper makes a few crews jokes and one liners to reader

AN: so I’m relatively new to Fallout lore and such, but the hubby and I finished the Fallout TV series a week or so ago and like most others, Cooper Howard’s got me in a grip tighter than his lasso. 😮‍💨 Please be gentle, I pulled a little from Fallout 4 and the TV series in a meshing that I thought felt right. This is briefly proofread but I’m still new to all things Fallout but I hope I did our cowboy justice and I hope y’all enjoy!

You were doing laundry for the day in your house, or better yet, what you could call a house these days, at the little settlement you set up for you and Cooper to live, and some houses for a good few other people you’d met along the way to make it into a nice small town. There was plenty of food to go around from the growing gardens, fresh, clean water, some electricity to keep the gates protected from raiders and things of the like, but also for some street lights at night. It was like a nice little slice of life before the war, or the closest you could get to it anymore anyway, it was peaceful.

It was a particularly sweltering hot day outside, hotter than usual as the sun beat down on the sand, and your skin when you’d step foot outside for even just a few minutes. “Shew, it’s hotter than hell outside” you exclaim, feeling the rush of the hot air that funneled in when Cooper set foot through the door. You were thankful to have chosen a pair of shorts and a tank top to wear out of your small selection of other clothes when you woke up this morning. “Don’t half mind it. Means I get to watch you pad around the house in them lil’ shorts you got on” Cooper said as he shut the door finally, then dropped his saddlebag and things off at his feet, having just come back from a run to the market to grab the essentials like RadAway, Rad-X, Stimpacks and some other chems and things here and there to keep handy for when you both set back out on your travels. You heard his boots clomp heavily against the floor as he drug himself inside, his eyes traveling your figure as you were washing some clothes in a wash bin, watching you bend over and your ass shake a little when you would scrub hard enough at some stains. He gave a crude whistle at the sight, one you were used to him using as a form of expressing that he liked something, making a small grin stretch to your lips. “Somethin’ tells me you’d make one hell of a sexy housewife” he said, coming behind you and tapping your ass playfully to get you to stand back up. You gave a chuckle before swatting at his hands as you turned to face him, making him only grin wider. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Although I’d miss wanderin’ the desert with you and all the shit we get up to” you said with a grin, putting the rag you had in hand over your shoulder as he stepped closer. “Like annoyin’ the piss outta me and stealin’ my kills?” He asked playfully, putting his hands gently on your hips to pull you into a kiss. You giggled in response as you put your hands against his chest to keep him close. “You love watchin’ me kill things with that big ol’ gun’a mine” you said in between kisses, making him hum in agreement with you, or maybe it was a groan at the thought because you were right, the sexiest thing to him was seeing you with a gun in hand, cocking it back after taking down raiders, roaches, scorpions, or whatever your target may be, with the confidence you do. He loved the excited “oh yeah!” Or “booyah!” You’d say to yourself afterwards too in celebration before you’d both rummage through whatever it was you downed. “Oh I absolutely do. Like it even better when it ain’t my bounties you’re droppin’ there, lil’ missy” he quipped, making you giggle again as he tapped your hip with his gloved hand before parting from you to let you get back at what you were doing. Also to watch you bend over some more, can’t restrain a dog once it’s loose. “Just be a quicker shot honey bun, then it won’t be a problem!” You joked, twirling the rag that was over your shoulders in your hands to wind it tight before cracking it against his ass, making him turn his head to look at you from over his shoulder all slow and intimidating like. “Oh it’s like that now, is it?” He asked, turning towards you some more, making you flash him a wide, deviant smile, knowing exactly what you did and that you’d likely be paying the consequences for it here in a few seconds. “Maybe it is! Whatchya gon’ do ‘bout it?” You asked with a widening grin the closer he got.

Before he gave you an answer, he picked you up, placing you over his shoulder with ease. You yelped playfully as he did, still sometimes surprised by the strength he carried before laughing as you started to wiggle in his grasp. “Fix that lil attitude of yours ya got goin’ on” he said, tapping his hand against your ass again, making you only laugh more as he started to walk out of the kitchen away from your chores. “Cooper! I was in the middle of somethin’ there, put me down!” You ordered through your relentless giggles as he continued to walk, almost slow at this point to torment you. “No can do sweetheart. Not ‘til you’ve nicened up” he said as he brought you to the bedroom and threw you on the bed but not too harshly. Just enough to see you bounce and hear you laugh. “I was in the middle of laundry! Your shirts’ll get all starchy an’ stiff if I don’t do it a certain way” you said, sitting up some and getting ready to get up but he sat down with you, which stopped you. He gave you a grin as he looked at the way your thighs were squeezed by the legs of your shorts, and how short they were sitting on you. “My shirts ain’t the only thing gettin’ stiff, I can tell ya that much” he said, making you swat at him once more as he gave a raspy laugh at your blush and facial expression in reaction. “You fiend. You ever thinkin’ with that head on your shoulders? Or just the one in your pants?” You asked with a smirk, knowing all too well the answer to that question, not that you minded one bit either. “I think we both know they’re about the same, I ain’t ever seen you complain about it” he said, making you chuckle as he leaned in and pulled you into another soft, loving kiss that you knew was going to lead to something much more. “Not one bit” you replied between kisses as his hands rested on your hips once more, giving you a nice squeeze while also doing what he could to keep you as close as he could get. He always had his hands on you in some way, sometimes in a suggestive way, but most times in a protective manner. He had to show the others and everyone out there in the commonwealth that no one fucks with, or gets between him and his girl. “C’mon take a break, laundry can wait. I ain’t seen you all day” he said, and he always did have a way with words that made you weak. “Only if ya promise me you won’t get mad if your shirts get stiff” you said, making him laugh. “I don’t give two shits about how them shirts feel, I just need you” he replied, making you smile as that happy twinkle came to your eyes, and gosh how they lit up every time you saw him. “Then I suppose the laundry can wait” you said with a soft giggle as he started to climb over top of you as you laid back against the bed again. Your hair fanned out around you against the pillows like a halo, your eyes half lidded as you looked up at him expectantly with those siren eyes he swore turned his mind into a frenzy. You smiled up at him with those pretty white teeth before he kissed you, feeling his hands wander your frame over your tank top and moving downward as your arms looped around him to pull him closer.

Your one hand removed his large hat, placing it off to the side as the kiss grew more heated, your tongues tangling in a fight for dominance with one another, a battle which he won. You moaned into it as one of his hands slipped beneath your tank top, surprisingly free of his gloves as he groped one of your breasts, tweaking your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Let’s get this off’a you” he said, bringing your tank top up and over your head then tossing it to the side to be forgotten until later, trailing his kisses down your neck to your chest that now laid bare and exposed to the air. You were always a sight to behold to him, no matter how many times you had sex, or how many times he’d just seen you naked or even half naked, he considered himself lucky that you chose him. When he looked at you, everything felt right in the world again, even out in desolate wasteland. When you looked at him, you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, like he was your whole world, and he was. “My beautiful lady” he complimented before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, working his tongue and thin cracked lips along it as he toyed with the other in his fingers, being sure to give them both the love they deserved. You moaned as he did, your back keening up off the mattress some at his touch. It had been a while since the last time you two had a chance to have sex, so needless to say you were more than receptive to his touches. You shut your eyes as your head fell back against the pillow, soft moans leaving your throat as he switched treatments, leaving behind nice little hickeys as a reminder of who you belonged to. You bit your lip and casted your gaze down onto him as you felt his lips begin to trail down your chest to your stomach, before he was resting between your legs. “Much as I like these, don’t think you’ll be needin’ ‘em right now” he said, unbuttoning and sliding his fingers into the waistband of your shorts before tugging them down and off from you, tossing them aside as haphazardly as he did with your top. His eyes delighted him when he saw you lying before him in lace, a commodity that’s damn hard to come by these days, making him whistle before making another sound of satisfaction at the sight. “And you were just gonna let this stay hidden? You’re like unwrappin’ a present” he said, making you giggle as he was careful with them as he slid them off you, but tossed them aside all the same. “You’re enough to make a man like me go feral darlin’, ya know that?” He said, making you chuckle once more. “Gettin’ you t’ act a fool is my favorite pass time” you replied, making him chuckle before he placed one of your legs over his shoulder, laying teasing butterfly kisses to your inner thigh that trailed slowly down to your aching cunt.

“Thought I’d pick up some RadAway while I was down at the market today for ya, that way I can give ya what you’ve been wantin’” he said as he sheathed himself fully inside, giving you a moment to breathe and accommodate to his size and the intrusion. You gave a happy little gasp that made him give a dark chuckle in response. “How romantic” you said teasingly but you were truly warmed by it, a bright smile on your face that joined with the blush that came from him already prodding at the apex of your cervix. “Anythin’ for you sweetheart. Besides, be a real shame if this sweet ass a yours looked like mine because of my doin’” he said, making you laugh. “Oh hush you, you’re mighty fine in my book” you said, pulling him into a soft sweet kiss. “For a cowpoke anyway” you added to tease, earning a sharp snap of his hips against yours in retaliation, making a loud moan leave your lips. “Wanna try that again, darlin’?” He asked, making you blush a bit brighter. “Was just kiddin’, shit. But if that’s what I gotta do t’ get ya t’ be rough with me, might just have to get on all them nerves of yours” you responded, making him smirk down at you, god he loved that attitude and humor you always about you, it’s one of the things that kept him going through all this. “If you want rough, all ya gotta do is ask. Fair warning, I don’t play nice when I do” he said, snapping his hips once more to hit deep inside of you, making your back arch up off the mattress once more. “Fuck, don’t want you to play nice. Want you t’ fuck me like you hate me” you said, making him chuckle as he quickly pulled out, making you whine at the loss of contact before you were abruptly rolled onto your stomach and his hand reached into your hair to pull your body into a harsh arch. “That dirty mind and mouth a yours’ll be both our undoin’ sweet cheeks” he said, bullying his way back into your pussy, starting a harsh pace that had your eyes rolling back as his hips slapped against your ass harshly. “You and I both know ya wouldn’t want me any other way” you quipped, making him chuckle as he yanked your hair to pull you back some more, earning a loud moan from you. “Look mighty tasty like this, I could just eat you alive” he said in a low growl, his lips and teeth sinking to your shoulder, leaving a bruise and teeth marks behind, marking and claiming you as his. He felt the way your walls squeezed around him as you whimpered pathetically with his bite, and the way you grew wetter as he did. “Fuck…Cooper” you moaned, making him chuckle as his hands gripped your hips, watching as you moved your hips back and met his thrusts hungrily. “Sure is a pretty sight, seein’ you split open on this cock. Hungry little thing, swallowin’ me the way you do. Tell me who this pretty pussy belongs to” he said, making you grin proudly at his praise. “‘s all yours baby, only for you” you replied as you felt the bed start to rock back and forth and heard it creaking beneath your bodies as he found that spot inside you liked so much. For as hot as it was outside, you two fucked like it was the only way to keep warm. “Damn straight. Fuck…” he groaned, enjoying the sight of your ass jiggling each time his cock entered then reentered you and the sounds you made when it would happen. “So close…please, don’t stop” you begged, knowing full and well he never had any intentions to, but the words flew from your mouth as if they were the only thing you knew to say. You felt one of his hands leave your hip, coming to reach and rub tight circles against your clit, making that coil in the pit of your stomach wind tighter. “Cum for me baby” he said, working you closer and closer to your peak that was just around the corner, all you needed was one last push and he knew it, he could feel it with the way your walls hugged him.

He bit down on your shoulder once more, making you moan as you toppled over the edge. Your walls clenched around him tightly, earning a groan from him as your cunt spasmed and milked him for everything he could give you. Your mouth laid open in a wide O shape as your back arched, keeping him deep inside of you as his release creeped up on him from yours. He let out a deep, feral growl as he came inside of you with his teeth sunk into your perfect skin, missing the feeling of what it was like to empty himself into someone again. You hummed contentedly as you felt him fill you up, a pleasant tingle running through you as he laved over the teeth marks with his tongue. “You alright, sugar? Wasn’t too rough with ya, was I?” He asked by your ear, littering your skin with kisses as one of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your side. You gave a giggle. “You always act like you’re gonna break me” you replied, making him chuckle. “I just might if I ain’t careful, certainly ain’t known for being a softy for others sweetheart” he said, making you chuckle as he pulled out of you slowly, trying his best not to hurt or overstimulate you both, allowing you to turn around and look at him. “Maybe I’d like it if ya did, but no you didn’t go rough on me. Was perfect, as always” you responded flirtatiously but with a sweet smile, making him chuckle dryly once more. “Good, I’ll always take good care of my girl” he replied, leaning down to kiss you softly before grabbing a rag and wetting it to help clean you up. As he came back and spread your legs, he watched his seed leak from you, moving down your thighs. He gave a crude whistle. “Now that’s a sight” he said with a mischievous grin, making you roll your eyes with an entertained smile as he helped clean you up, laying a kiss to your inner thigh. “At least give me a little recovery time, I ain’t got that stamina you got yet” you said, making him laugh as he disposed of the rag and climbed back into bed with you. “And don’t worry, I had my Rad-X for the day. Though I gotta say, that’s a feeling that’s totally worth a little radiation sickness if ya ask me” you said, both of you giving a chuckle as you kissed him softly once more, your hand resting on his chest as you did. “Well, just t’ be safe, I got RadAway. Some for me to keep me from turnin’ feral and rippin’ you to pieces, and some for you for those nights you crave that sweet feelin’” he said, handing you the IV bag of yellow liquid from off the bedside table. “What would I ever do without you?” You asked, hooking it up to the rack and putting the IV in to allow it to take effect. “A whole lotta nothin’ good I imagine. Probably spend a whole lotta nights hoping them dainty little fingers a yours can achieve anything close t’ what I give ya every night” he teased with a grin, making you roll your eyes with a laugh but he wasn’t wrong.

His hand came to yours, pulling it to where your fingers would intertwine with his, something he always did when you used needles and medicines on yourself as a gesture of comfort. He pulled his inhaler and a vile of RadAway from his duster that lay on the floor as you let the bag drip slowly. He took a hit off of his inhaler, giving a contended sigh as he leaned back against the pillows and let it work its way into his system. He looked over to see you, admiring him like he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. He gave you a sweet smile, one pulled deep from his heart as you leaned your head against his shoulder. One that said the three words he’d been struggling to try and tell you after all this time being together, a loving look in his usually dark, haunting gaze. “I love you” he said, making you look up at him in astonishment that he’d finally come around to saying it. You smiled at him, that same sweet smile he saw the first time he ever sent a flirty word your way, the same smile he’d come to absolutely adore seeing stretch to your cute face every time you saw him. “I love you too, Coop” you replied back, easing the tightness in his chest as he awaited your response. He gave you a relieved smile as he kissed your head, slinging his arm around you to pull you into his side and hold you close.

The moment was sweet, quiet save for the sounds of your joined breathing and heartbeats but peacefully so. You both stayed like that for a good while, the bag of RadAway already run down to nearly empty. That peace was disturbed when you realized you still had some chores on your list left to do for the day. “Shit, I still got laundry and shit to do” you said, sighing as you realized it and tipped your head back with a groan, removing your IV and bandaging up your arm, getting ready to get up and go back to it. “Hold it there, little lady” Cooper said, getting up and putting his briefs and pants back on. “I gotchya. You rest that pretty head a yours while I take care of it, ‘kay? Let that stuff work its way in ya” He said, making you look up at him. “You ain’t gotta do that Coop…” you replied, making him shake his head at you. “Shh, shh, shh. Don’t you move a muscle there, pretty lady. I got it” he urged, kissing your head once more before placing his hat back on his head, grabbing his shirt from the floor and throwing his duster over his shoulder. “‘s a good look on you” you said with a half lidded smile, your eyes raking his form as he turned and looked at you, shooting a grin your way. “And that is a good look on you” he replied, tipping his head to gesture at you who still laid in bed naked, hair slightly messy, a few bite marks and hickeys littering your otherwise mostly unblemished skin. You gave a grin and a giggle as he stood there, a calculated look in his eyes as he looked you over, resting himself by his arm along the doorframe. “I think I can live without a couple extra shirts” he said, tossing his shirt across the room without a care for where it landed, dropping his duster along the chair in the room. “What are you…Cooper!” You yelped playfully as he climbed back onto the bed, a hungry look in his eyes as he climbed over top of you. “Chores can wait a day, I need you sugar” he said, leaning down and slotting his lips against yours, pulling you into a soft, sweet kiss. “I need this” he added genuinely, his tone soft and loving as he pressed his forehead to yours while he held one of your hands in his. “Been enough days out in that shit hole wasteland that got me scared I was gonna lose you, and that’s somethin’ I just can’t have. So I wanna enjoy this, this little slice of paradise we got right now, with you” he said between soft, loving kisses, making you smile as you gave in and kissed him back. Laundry could wait for another day, he was right, times like these were hard to come by. Needless to say, no other chores got done that day, but it was certainly a night neither of you would ever forget.

[awkwardarmadildo]

to add on to the humans are space orcs/earth is the universe's australia, sensing. my therapist has recently explained that its not normal the way i know who and where someone is by their footsteps. not just the sound, but the vibrations. if someone isnt purposely walking on light feet, i can tell who and where they are, even with headphones blaring. imagine a human on a ship and the awe-filled terror itd earn from their non-human crewmates.

edit: ive realized i wasnt clear enough in my intentions. im not saying "if you can tell peoples footsteps apart, youve been ✨️ T R A U M A T I Z E D ✨️ d-(^♡^)-b ". its about the inherent panic in Not hearing the steppies and therefore Not having the time to prepare yourself for whoever might be approaching and essentially being ambushed. also, being able to tell if someone is normalTM, happy, sad, et cetera. the combined terror of not being given time to make oneself "presentable" for whoevers coming, And Also whoever has just seemingly teleported is fucking pissed, which is never good. Anyways, enjoy!!! ＼(^o^)／

Gilith enters the library, searching for Human Raven. They seem to be found most often either here or in one of the many gardens on the ship. Human Alex said he'd likely find them here today.

Gilith pokes his head through the doorway, not seeing Human Raven, but before he can move on, a voice calls out from one of the high-backed chairs decorating the library.

"Hello Lithy, what do you need?"

Gilith sputters, "Wha- Human Raven, how did you know it was me?" Gilith makes his way over to the chair that held Human Raven in a twisted knot that, when Human Raven stood up, would surely leave a horrifying crunch Human Alex had likened to a human candy that exploded in one's mouth.

"You've got some loud stompers, Lithy."

"I do not know what that means, Human Raven."

Raven stands, causing Gilith to flinch at many snaps and crackles of their bones settling into place, and smiles up at his towering form.

"What did you need?"

Gilith notices more and more Human Raven's greetings. He thought maybe they could hear him coming, but they greeted him while wearing ear speakers, the volume so loud, Gilith could hear it from a few feet away.

Humans did not have psychic skills, and the only other human who seemed capable of a preemptive greeting was Human Alex. The two seemed to share all of their off-hours, so maybe that was where he could find his answers.

Gilith scoured the many gardens, stopping just outside of the doorway. He could hear Human Alex and Human Raven chattering to each other, but neither seemed to notice his presence.

In an attempt not to disturb them, he walked with what Human Bea had described as "tip-toes". A challenging feat, considering his round flat feet, but he managed.

Both Human Raven and Human Alex had their backs to him, so he coughed in the same way Human Bea often did to get everyone's attention.

The reaction he got was unexpected when both Human Raven and Human Alex flinched so hard their shoulders seemed to lock.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to startle you," he rushed over, but stopped short when they both flinched again. He recoiled his hand.

"It's ok, Lithy," Raven says, voice slightly choked. "Just give us a sec."

"Oh. Okay." Gilith turned his eyes down.

"What-" Alex started, his voice sounding as though it was rubbed raw. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What can we do for you, Gilith?"

"I did not have anything specific to talk to you about. I wanted to..." he trails off. "I wanted to inform you of the new plants we are picking up at the next trade planet."

Gilith feels his face twist with the lie, but now didn't seem like a good time to ask.

His desire to understand, however, doesn't fade after the incident. It only makes his hunger grow.

Instead of bothering Human Alex or Human Raven, Gilith decides to ask Human Bea, who does not sense him before he greets her.

"Hello, Human Bea."

"Yes, hello, Gilith. Is everything okay?"

"I have question."

Bea tilts her head. "Ask away."

"Are you- humans- able to detect someone before you see them?"

Bea's face softens into an aching sort of frown. "Not naturally."

"What do you mean?"

She takes a breath, seemingly preparing herself. "Well, most people are able to live in a relatively safe place. But some people aren't as lucky. Some people have to memorize the falls of others' feet. It's a learned survival tactic."

"I don't understand," Gilith says, his face wrinkling in confusion.

"Some people aren't safe, so for the ones who weren't born with the good luck of a safe home, they have to know who and where someone is. They have to know if they need to hide or prepare themself. They have to know if they're in danger or not."

Gilith feels his whole body go slack as a wave of sadness washes over him at the memory of Human Raven and Human Alex's reaction to his sudden appearance.

"I have loud stompers."

Bea's face scrunches up as though she's trying not to laugh. "You do. You have safe stompers, too."

[roosterforme]

In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears. 

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly. 

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you. 

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind. 

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

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

The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other. 

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer. 

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face. 

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots. 

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies. 

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

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

I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[avatar-anna]

i’ve been thinking about hockeyrry lately and then i see this…. now all i can think about is hockeyrry having an argument with yn and having to do promo after a game, when all he really wants to do is find his gf and make up with cuddles and kisses :(((

this turned out to be a lot longer and not the short/cute little blurb i initially planned. enjoy more shenanigans from hockey harry and skater reader!

Hockey player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

"So, Harry, what are your thoughts on the team's performance tonight?"

You watched the screen in front of you begrudgingly, sticking your spoon in your bowl of ice cream and eating it, perhaps a little too aggressively. But you didn't change the channel, not wanting to miss a moment of Harry on camera, no matter how much he drove you crazy sometimes.

The fight had been brief, but arguments were something you and Harry were rather good at, and this one was no different. Harry ended up leaving for his game in a huff as you rolled your eyes at his back, and even though you were more than slightly pissed off, you sat down to watch his game on TV anyway.

His team won, but barely. Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere—he took more penalties than necessary and even more checks against the boards, each slam of his body against the plexiglass making you tense up. He clearly had been in two places at once, and for that, you felt guilty. Your argument wasn't inconsequential, and you intended to finish it less intensely when he came home, but now that you'd simmered a bit you regretted fighting with Harry right before he left, as it clearly affected his performance on the ice tonight.

"Obviously, we didn't play our best," Harry said into the interviewer's microphone. "I'm certainly disappointed in myself. In more ways than one."

His poor eyes were tired, bags hanging beneath them, his nose red and irritated. And his voice was hoarse too, unlike the way it normally was when he first woke up in the morning. From that to his pale skin, you could've sworn Harry had gotten sick in the few hours he'd been gone.

"How do you unwind after a game that was tough both physically and mentally like tonight?"

Harry rubbed a tired hand over his entire face. He was polite, but you could tell a post-game interview was the last place he wanted to be. "Erm, just go home. Rest, meditate, I guess."

"Meditate? You meditate? Can you walk us through that process?"

"Uh..." You watched Harry visibly deflate on camera but stay where he was. With a sniffle, he continued. "There's not much to it. Just measured breathing, peace and quiet, and going to bed early."

"Well, we won't keep you from your post-game meditation, Harry. Just one last question!"

You watched the interview wrap up and the sports channel switch over to a broadcast of a different game. Waiting for him to come home, you began to prepare for bed. You set out Harry's softest sweats and favorite crew neck, put new essential oils in the diffuser by his bed, and a new box of tissues along with a steaming mug of tea. You were almost positive he was sick, and when Harry was sick...he became something of a little baby. But he was your baby to take care of, even if you had just been arguing a few hours ago.

A little while later, the lock clicked and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the apartment. A cough and a sniffle followed, and you could already picture his curls flopping against Harry's forehead clumsily as he rubbed his hand against his nose, the green of his eyes bright against tired redness.

"Y/n?" he called. "I'm sorry about our fight earlier. I know we left things on a sour note, but can we press pause on it for now and pick it up on it in a few days? I'm not feeling—"

"It's fine, H," you said, appearing from your bedroom. Your eyes softened as you took in his rumpled suit, the jacket slung over his arm in a heap. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming down with something?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was. It was just a little throat scratch when I left here, and then—"

He stopped to cough, and you could see him wince as if it hurt his chest. Taking the jacket and duffle bag off his shoulder, you set it down and took his hand, squeezing it as the coughing fit ended. You pulled him down the hall toward your bedroom, ignoring his questions and protests until they stopped when you finally reached the threshold.

"What's all this?" Harry asked, hooded eyes sleepily scanning everything you'd set up.

"Change. Lie down. I'll bring dinner in a few minutes."

"For me?" he said, a little smirk stretching across his face. "You never cook."

"Don't get too excited, it's canned soup," you said, feeling flustered beneath his stare all of a sudden.

You did things for Harry, of course you did. Was it a bad thing that he seemed surprised that you wanted to take care of him? A few years ago, sure, but things were different now. It was only occasionally now that you found him irritating. He was only teasing you, and honestly, you would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

Leaving Harry to change, you got started on heating up his soup. He probably should've had something more substantial than soup from a can, but you hadn't completely ruled out him having the flu yet and wanted to air on the side of caution.

Once everything was set—hot soup, a cup of tea, and some medicine all arranged on a tray—you brought it to the bedroom and set it on Harry's lap. He smiled tiredly at you, mumbling his thanks before digging in. You watched him eat, unsure of what else you should do in the meantime. Harry had asked when he came home to press pause on the argument you'd had before his game, but now you didn't know what to say, argument or otherwise. You wondered if the silence between you and him was only awkward in your mind and not his, or if he was merely hiding his frustration from earlier with you while you doted on him. You didn't want to pick up where the two of you had left off before his game, but it didn't seem right to leave things unfinished, unresolved. Harry certainly didn't seem to notice or betray his own emotions as he sipped on his tea and sniffled between bites of his dinner.

"I'll get you some more blankets."

Before he could respond, you were off the bed, shuffling down the hallway toward the closet where the extra linens were kept.

You felt like you had to keep busy. You told Harry the argument was forgotten, but you couldn't help but feel as though there were words left unspoken between the two of you. And perhaps part of you felt guilty too. The argument started out as a heated discussion, but you let your temper get the best of you, so instead of getting to the bottom of things, you ended up yelling and taunting and refusing to listen. Harry hadn't been a saint in any of it either, you both had a competitive streak, and that extended to disagreements. But this was different. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn't even notice your boyfriend was sick.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the extra blankets and went back into the bedroom.

Not saying a word, you took the tray and set it on the nightstand on Harry's side of the bed. You wrapped him up with more blankets, piling them on until only his face peeked through. Harry grinned at you, his nose and cheeks rosy and eyes only slightly drooping from fatigue. You ignored him, making sure he was properly wrapped before pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"You're fussing," Harry said, his voice only slightly teasing. "You never fuss."

"Shut up," you muttered, turning around on your heel and taking the tray out of the room.

"Don't be long!" he called, and you could practically feel the grin as you walked away.

Harry was right, of course. You were fussing. Perhaps you were trying to make up for the things you said earlier, for picking a fight with him when you knew he had to leave for his game, though that had been precisely the problem.

Proud didn't even begin to cover how you felt regarding his career. Harry worked so hard, had come so far in such a short period. In what felt like a quick few years, he had become a superstar on the ice, taking the NHL by storm and absolutely dominating his competition. Harry deserved every bit of praise from reporters and journalists, every standing ovation from adoring fans, every interaction from young hockey players who looked up to him. No one deserved it more than Harry, but the bigger he became, the more famous he got, it seemed as though he had less and less time for you.

You knew that being in a relationship with him wouldn't be a walk in the park, you were familiar with the traveling and the long seasons and everything else that came with being in a semi-long distance relationship with an athlete. You and Harry had been together since college, you'd done it and survived it, but this...this was completely different.

The minor leagues were manageable. Harry had a busier schedule than he did in school, but the two of you made it work. When he made it to the NHL, you realized that busy didn't even begin to cover it. Press conferences before games, interviews after games, sponsorship deals, longer seasons, charity games, international tournaments—all of it was one big whirlwind that hit your relationship before you could blink. And you would've been able to withstand all of it if you could see him just a little bit more.

That had been the crux of your argument. You hadn't planned on fighting with Harry about it while he was on his way out to get to the arena, but he'd mentioned being home late to do a couple extra interviews, and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Returning to your bedroom, you started getting ready for bed. A freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and one of Harry's old university sweatshirts later, and you were sliding into your side, back facing Harry. You could feel him, feel the heat of all those blankets you'd wrapped around him. But you could feel the heavy weight of his stare too, as if he was wordlessly trying to get you to turn around.

"I'm sensing this is some form of punishment," he said. His voice didn't sound as scratchy as it had been when he came home, which you took as a good sign.

"What is?" you asked.

"You wrapping me like a burrito. I can't hold you like this."

You smiled, the image of him frowning down at the plethora of blankets you swaddled him in appearing in your mind.

"You were shivering."

"Was I? I can't recall," Harry said. "I feel like I'm in a furnace now, though."

"That's good. Your fever probably broke."

"You know, as much as I love talking to the back of your lovely head, I'd appreciate it a lot more if I could talk to your even lovelier face."

Taking your time, you rolled over, making sure he saw the amusement on your face. The grin on his own merely brightened, and you hoped he didn't notice you blush.

"Flattery won't get you out of those blankets, Styles," you finally said.

"No, but maybe it'll get you in them with me, soon-to-be-Styles."

Your hand went reflexively to your left hand to fiddle with your engagement ring. You hadn't had it long, but fiddling with it quickly became a habit you intended to keep. The proposal had been a surprise, but it felt right at the same time, as if without really needing to say it, you and Harry were both ready to take that next step. And you couldn't lie, Harry had done an immaculate job with the ring even though you'd never really mentioned what you might be interested in. It was emerald cut, a classic in your opinion, but a light green sapphire instead of a diamond in the middle. "I don't know, you mentioned something about blood diamonds a few months ago and thought you might appreciate something different," Harry had said by way of explanation.

You used to find it annoying—frustrating, even—how much Harry seemed to know you, but the night he proposed—at home after spending a whole afternoon together that he'd planned from start to finish—you thought he was nothing short of perfect.

"Are we okay?" you asked out of the blue, though not really. Thinking about the proposal, the wedding, made you realize that maybe you shouldn't go to bed with an unresolved argument with your fiance.

Harry sighed. "I hope so. I'm sorry. I should've realized how lonely you've been lately. I know this...lifestyle...isn't always the easiest to live with."

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have unloaded on you right before you left. I know how important it is to have a clear head before a game."

"You're important to me, Y/n," he said. Harry struggled for a moment as he tried to free an arm from his blanket cocoon, muttering to himself about your hidden talent for blanket wrapping. You let out a watery laugh as you watched him struggle, then helped him peel the blankets back until he was entirely free. Sitting up, Harry pulled you to him, his hand cupping your cheek. "Now, where were we?"

"Allegedly, I'm important to you," you said, the corner of your mouth tipping up.

"Glad you're in higher spirits," Harry murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. His eyes flitted over your face as if he could read everything you weren't saying, and you were sure he did. He had a knack for that kind of thing. "I should know how much time I've been taking away from you. From us. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't have much control over your game schedule, but I just feel like never see you anymore. I just want—I just want more time with you, that's all. I'm sorry it came out the way it did."

Harry shook his head, used to your tendency to hold your feelings in until they barreled out of you. It was something you were working on, you were only thankful Harry stuck around long enough until you figured it out.

"I know you are. I'm glad you told me, though. Or yelled it at me."

Face flushing, you said, "Sorry. I'm...working on it."

"I know," Harry said, chuckling as he kissed your cheek. "But I don't mind. I love fighting with you."

"I'm so glad," you mumbled.

Laying Harry back down across the bed, you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his cheek and his neck, his skin warm but not feverish. The skin of his cheek was soft against your lips, making you nuzzle your nose deeper into him. Your legs tangled with his as Harry nestled deeper into your arms. Easing up just a little, you leaned back enough to run a hand through his hair, making sure your nails scratched against his scalp the way he liked it.

"Mm. This is almost better than makeup sex," he murmured.

Leaning forward, you nipped at the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey. I said almost."

You chuckled quietly in his ear before placing another little kiss to his temple. Nudging him with his nose one more time, you said, "Maybe after the playoff season is over, we can go somewhere. Somewhere warm. Maybe even tropical. You can take some time off once the season is officially over, right?"

"I do love seeing you in a bikini—Ow! What? You want me to lie?" Harry said, crying out when you pinched his side.

"You're such a guy sometimes, I swear," you grumbled.

Harry's face split into a grin, and you could feel it as you kept nuzzling his cheek. "So I find my fiance attractive. Since when is that a crime?"

"Someone's feeling better all of a sudden." You began to untangle yourself from Harry, but he held you in place. When you tried to wriggle away from him, he held you in place, wrapping around you like moss on a limb until he had you pinned to the mattress.

"Don't act like you don't like it," he said. "Or that you don't think the same things about me."

"Aren't you sick? Go to sleep!" you said, trying not to smile as he began to kiss you all over just like you'd been doing to him.

"Admit it or you're not getting a vacation," he taunted, his kisses along your neck becoming longer, more languid.

Oh, I'll be getting my vacation, you thought. Whether you played into Harry's hands tonight or not, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

When Harry raised his head and his gaze finally met yours, you raised a single brow. "Oh, don't give me that look, princess. I don't scare that easily, you know that," he said, though when your brow arched just a little bit higher, he sighed and pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Fine then. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I find you more attractive than you do me."

"Oh brother," you groaned as you leaned across Harry to turn the lamp on his nightstand off.

Harry's only response was a very pointed sniff into the dark, which made you roll your eyes.

It was quiet as the both of you settled down. It was clear Harry expended the little energy he had, as the sniffles and coughs came back a few minutes after you turned the lights off. Shuffling back over to him, you snuck a hand under his shirt and began running it gently up and down his back. Once again carding your other hand through his hair, you felt him relax a little.

You exhaled deeply, settling in close to Harry and cuddling into the warmth of his body. "Get some rest, H," you murmured, your hand still moving steadily along his back.

You stayed awake until Harry's breaths evened and slowed as he began to snore softly. Your own eyes began to droop, comforted by your fiance's closeness and the resolution you'd been seeking since he'd stormed out of the house earlier today.

It could be worse, you supposed. Of all the people in the world to argue with, you were happy Harry was the one. If this was the outcome every time—minus Harry's illness, of course—you couldn't help but look forward to the rest of your life with him.

[cheezitofthevalley]

Part 1

Hi! Sorry this took so long (new job). Let's get right to it.

Q: What are dividers?

A: Dividers are any graphic that is used to divide two things, usually bodies of text. They are useful for breaking up blog posts and signalling the end of a topic. You might not have noticed, but many websites feature dividers of some kind. Bloggers, however, tend to be a bit extra about their dividers. Here are some good examples:

Q: Ok, cool. It probably wasn't necessary for you to put that many examples, but it does make it clear that dividers can be pretty much anything. Still, I think there are more graphics that you've posted. What about those tiny thingys?

A: You mean favicons? Yeah, let's talk about those.

Favicons are tiny images that represent a website or company. Any easy example is probably right in front of you, if you're on a laptop. Look at the Tumblr tab you have open; do you see the little "t" icon? That's a favicon. Favicons were originally 16x16 pixels. They can be animated.

That being said, lots of people use the term to refer to any small pixel art. These can also be called pixels.

Q: Wait. Why call pixel art a pixel? Aren't pixels single points on a screen?

A: Well, yes. And favicons are supposed to have very specific dimensions and uses, but here we are. "Pixels" can sometimes refer to tiny pixel art, usually between 16x16 and 32x32 pixels (I know, confusing) large. These pixels are often animated. I use favicons and pixels to refer to the same thing.

Q: Ok, I think I get it. But what are pixels used for? Are they essentially icons, or trademarks, like favicons?

A: Sometimes, but usually not. They are often used like bullet points in website directories or lists. I've also seen them used as emoticons, buttons, and decorations. Some people like to simply collect them.

Here are some examples of pixels/favicons:

Q: oOoOO. I like those. Is there anything else people collect?

A: Yep! Pretty much all graphics are collectible. That being said, some lack any use except to be displayed. Fanlisting buttons, for example.

Q: What are fanlistings?

A: Fanlistings were a way for fans to connect online before social media really took off. They were basically online bulletins listing contact info of the fanbases members so that you could connect with like-minded people. They aren't much of a thing now, but they do exist. People who love Spacehey and Neocities are likely to use them. You can register for some and take a button to put on your blog to let others know you're part of that fandom. It also links to the fanlisting itself for others to join. Here are some fanlisting buttons (I haven't joined any):

They are usually 50x50, but don't have to be: they can even be other graphics, like 88x31 buttons! Some other common dimensions are 75x50, 100x35, and 100x50.

In part three, we'll finish up with a couple odd graphics, some interesting old websites, and useful posting tips.

[leahsgirl]

blind date | leah williamson x reader

in which you and your fellow england teammate are set up on a blind date. no warnings, just pure fluff really.

i’m having such major writing block right now so hoping this pulls me out of it or i’ll scream. 💪

-

“wit woo!” your roommate alessia hollered as you finished putting on your earrings.

“do i look okay?” you did a full spin, showcasing the tight fitting black dress you had on that fell just above your knees, gold heels on ur feet, gold jewellery and your hair that flowed below your shoulders in loose curls.

“you look gorgeous - your date won’t know what hit them.” the blonde replied with a smirk, coming over and fixing your necklace so the clasp didn’t keep slipping to the front.

“can’t believe youse have bullied me into this.” your national teammates had made your love life the new topic of interest since you was ‘hot and single’ and should ‘get out there more’.

while they raised a good point, a blind date is the last thing you wanted considering you was probably the most socially awkward person going when meeting new people. not to mention; your teammates planned it which in itself is enough to make you not want to go.

“you’ll have a great time, wouldn’t be surprised if you hear wedding bells at the end of it.” the forward winked having way too much fun at this whole scenario.

“calm your horses russo, i don’t plan on that for another five years.”

seeing the time you scramble to get your belongings and find your car keys. “right i’m off wish me luck!” you shout out as you close the front door.

from the adress that tooney had messaged you beforehand you found yourself outside a small restaurant at the end of a street. it looked nice and welcoming from the outside to be fair.

now when your teammates said blind date, you didn’t expect to walk in to sheer darkness, bumping into something as soon as you entered the premises.

“name.” what you can only assume was a waiter asked. “oh sorry; y/n.”

“ah right this way miss - if you could just place your hand on my colleagues shoulder and we’ll guide you through.”

following the man’s instructions you lightly gripped the man and was led into a separate room which was still as dark, but you could at least hear voices of other customers there.

“your seat madam, your date should arrive shortly.” great you thought, first one to arrive which only meant more nerves could inevitably build up.

trying to burn some of the time you felt the table, getting to grips with where the cutlery and place mats were.

“miss your date has arrived, please take a seat.” the man motioned to the booth not that anyone could see it. “thank y- ah shite!”

“are you okay?” you asked after hearing a slight bang.

“yeah just banged my pissing thigh on the table.” the voice was one of a woman’s, also one that was incredibly familiar.

“not the best way to start a date eh. i’m leah.”

“shut up!” alessia’s playful comments and expressions, teammates overwhelming interest, the whole blind date notion in general now making a whole lot of sense.

“wow can’t say i’ve ever had that greeting.” the england captain a little confused.

“no leah it’s me, y/n.”

“piss off.” you could hear the disbelief in her voice, she too apparently well unaware of the obvious set up.

“take it you were also forced to go on a date with a stranger.”

“oh i’m so going to kill georgia for this.” leah scoffed before pausing “not because the date is with you! i just mean the whole deceit in general.”

“don’t worry i’ll be planning lessi and tooney’s revenge after.”

“gotta give them credit though, they’ve paired two incredibly hot women together.” leah was smirking while you was essentially swooning over the fact she called you hot.

“yeah but why? it’s not like you like me romantically or anything.”

just before leah could reply one of the waiters returned to the table “can i get you ladies something to drink?”

“erh i’ll have a margarita please.” you deciding on the same thing and ordering it.

“well we may as well treat this as a date considering that’s what we’re here for.” there was a brief pause. “so y/n, what do you do for a living?”

you laugh as you engage in her playfulness. “i’m actually a professional football player, both man united and england.”

“oh wow that’s cool, do you like it?” the older girl asked faking curiosity, resting her chin on her hand as she moved closer.

“it has its ups and downs, there’s this girl on my national squad though who is super competitive - she cried when i beat her at mario kart.” you beamed knowing leah would not appreciate the bringing up of her defeat.

“hey you said you’d let that go!” breaking away from her ‘never met you before’ character. “sorry.” (you wasn’t sorry at all).

“okay my turn; do you have any hobbies?”

“i’m quite good at kicking a ball around too to be fair.” you quirked a brow. “oh are you?”

“yeah if you google leah williamson you might see some of my skills. i’m also very good at sudoku.” the blonde wasn’t lying considering you’ve watched her play it hundreds of times, you yourself never being able to grasp the game.

after a bunch of easy, lighthearted conversation, food had arrived, leah opting for a steak and you on pasta.

“oh my god this is to die for.” having your first taste and the flavours melting on your tongue. “you’ve gotta try this.” you move your spoon towards the blonde’s direction “that’s my eye babe.” she said with a laugh, your cheeks immediately flushing at the embarrassing miscalculation and pet name. “shit my bad.”

“mhm your right, might have to swap plates.” leah acknowledging the how delicious it was.

“back off williamson.” you reply sternly as you wack away her hand with the back of your unused fork.

time was going by pretty fast, the pair of you fully present and engaged with each other. you didn’t even bother looking at your phone which now had a build up of messages off your friends asking how it was going.

maybe you both were a little tipsy when leaving the restaurant after splitting the bill, having taken a tumble up the step.

the cold breeze was like a harsh slap to your face once outside, a large juxtaposition from the building that was warm and cozy.

“wow.” a stunned leah stood behind as she took you in. “what?” having now taken notice to the blatantly obvious staring from the arsenal player.

“you. you look incredible.” her eyes racking every single inch of your body. “i’ve never really seen you this dressed up. it’s hot.”

“y’know being showered in compliments by leah williamson isn’t half bad.” revelling in the smooth girls words of praise.

“and yet i don’t get a single one back.” jutting out her lip and faking hurt which only made you laugh and roll your eyes.

“i guess you do scrub up okay, the outfit is a solid 9/10 i’d say.”

“we’ve got to improve on those compliment skills.” the blonde scoffed.

“can’t say anything too nice, that ego of yours will human combust.” you say already aware of the defenders cockiness/arrogance. “i’d say my ego is the perfect size thank you very much.”

“okay well thanks for this ‘date.’” using your hands to air quote. “-i’ve had a good time.”

leah smiled “me too.”

you stop for a second almost hesitating doing something before ultimately deciding against it, bidding your goodbye as you turned on your heel to make your way back to your car.

“y/n wait!” jogging to catch up with you, the blue-eyed girl grabbed at your arm making you stumble back and face her. “what’s up?”

her gaze flicking between your eyes and lips as her heart pounded out her chest “i forgot to do this.”

said barely above a whisper, her lips found themselves pressed against yours. the touch so light almost like she was afraid she’d scare you away.

that couldn’t be further from the truth though, with you reciprocating the kiss by deepening it as she moved her hands so they wrapped around your waist.

pulling away youse both had rosy cheeks and heaving chests, smiling dopily at each other.

“get in!” “fucking finally!” the pair looked around for the sudden screams, shock plastered on your face when you see ella and georgia peeping out behind a wall.

leah following your gaze and spotting the teammates “have you guys been watching us?!”

stanway was the one to reply “only the last five minutes; never knew you had that game within you lee.” winking, referring to the public display of affection youse just gave.

“it was so fun to see y/n swooning.” tooney added laughing menacingly.

you and leah lock eyes, sharing a look both of you seem to understand. “shall we get our revenge?” the captain asked slyly, you agreeing immediately.

taking notice of the devilish grins that were plastered on the pair, georgia and ella looked uneasy, starting to retract slowly but surely.

“come here you little shits!” running after the girls while they squealed like little kids, making their getaway.

[adoresia]

— Cold Truths

⋆.˚ CHARACTERS : Megumi and Toji Fushiguro

⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS : In which Toji opens up about how he got the scar on his lip

⋆.˚ WARNINGS : none

⋆.˚ SIERRA SPEAKS : first jjk fic kinda scarttt😣 this was requested by a new friend of mine!! 😋😋 (everybody clap for @mistymuimui ) anyways i got kinda lazy towards the end so i might change the ending a bit later but, HERE YOU GO!!,

“HA, beat you again. You know what that means, right?”

Toji exclaimed proudly before leaning back onto the couch with the smuggest look on his face, still playing around with the toothpick in his mouth from dinner previously. Both he and Megumi had been abusing the new console ever since Toji got it for Megumi’s recent birthday, although it seems Toji got it for himself considering he used it more than Megumi did.

This particular evening both the boys had been going for rounds on rounds playing a PVP game together. But you know Toji HAD to make a bet for whoever wins.

“Whatever, you cheated so it’s not fair.” Megumi protested. This was the 5th time this week he was on dish duty for losing against his father.

“Not my fault you’re so bad at it, get better.” Toji said while he relaxed his head back on both his arms, “Your hands are gonna grow wrinkles from washing these plates so much.” He laughed, although Megumi wasn’t all that amused.

“You say that every time but the bet is always whoever wins has to wash the dishes, it’s like you want my hands to grow wrinkles.” With his hands spread out in front of him, he looked at what essentially everyday dishwashing was doing to him cursed under his breath. His eyebrows unconsciously furrowed in protest.

“Like I said kid, get better.” Toji yawned the last part tiredly as he closed his eyes in victory, glad that he made it another day not having to wash any dishes.

Megumi just shook his head in annoyance, honestly how did it get to this point? Toji was such a kid he took back Megumi’s birthday present without actually saying it. Although Megumi wasn’t that annoyed, at least he got to spend time with his dad after all this time of not having him around. As he pondered this he recognised, that there wasn’t that much he knew about Toji. Only the fact that he was once part of the Zenin clan but escaped, barely… Megumi didn’t care, not until now at least.

“Your scar, why do you have it.” He questioned out of the blue.

“What? This isn’t gonna get you out of doing the dishes by the way.” Toji’s eyes blinked open from his light nap in confusion.

“Well that would’ve been a good idea but if I don’t do them unfortunately nobody won’t.”

Toji laughed at his response “You just called me lazy. No play station for you anymore.”

“You use it more than me? Can you just answer my question?”

“I was thrown into a pit with cursed spirits, fought them all and got this scar. They didn’t expect me to survive that but I did and now I got something cool to remember it by, wanna take a closer look?” He pointed at his scar, unphased by how serious the situation was.

“Why?”

“Why what, you ask too many questions ‘gum. I just answered you.” He waved off his other question and got comfortable on the couch again.

“Well, okay then,” Megumi answered, stacking the plates on top of each other while carrying them to the kitchen.

While Toji ‘rested his eyes’ as his head fell back onto the couch. Unwanted memories filled the void of his mind. Recollections from the past about the Zenin clan and their treatment of him as a child led to his current situation. The reason he could no longer continue to live while carrying the burden of the zen in name plastered to him. The reason he took Megumi’s mother’s last name. Fushiguro. The reason he had a constant reminder of his childhood every time he looked into a mirror, or a camera, or the photo of him and Megumi which sat on the Lock Screen of his phone.

All of these reminders manipulated him into not bringing any of his past up to Megumi, of all people. He didn’t want his son to think any less of him because he was treated so weakly as a child. That didn’t matter to him, the only concern he had was his future. But if Megumi had questions about his past, not answering them made him look even weaker.

Toji’s eyes had been glued on the ceiling for a while now, thoughts still lingering while time was ticking. He wasn’t aware of how much time he had spent sitting in all these memories of his past, and the sun was sinking as it lowered. The sky, was ablaze, with the fire of the setting sun.

During the time Toji drifted and circled in his ruminant flashbacks, Megumi had already cleared the dining table, cleaned all the dishes (against his own will), fed his dogs and was already in bed.

Toji grumbled in fatigue, pushing himself off the couch, and stretching his muscles into a more comfortable position as he stood up. After sitting all day and playing on Megumi’s console his whole body was sore, and seemed to have moulded into his sitting position. Simultaneously, he jaunted drowsily to his room, not before involuntarily stopping at the open doorway of Megumi’s bedroom.

Megumi played lazily across his bed in the company of his divine dogs beside him, with whatever book he was reading in his left hand while he used to other to soothingly pet his dogs.

“Why are you still here?” Megumi had noticed his dad staring at him for the last 2 minutes but eventually, it started to creep him out, because the lights in his room were off and Toji looked like a heavily muscular cursed spirit standing in the doorway.

“Why are you so rude I’m litterallyour dad.”

“I’m waiting for you to explain why you’ve been standing there staring at me for so long.”

Megumi was met with silence, Toji leaned on the doorway staring at the ground while scratching the back of his head trying to find an answer somewhere in his mind.

“Hello…”

“The zenin, pushed me into the pit” He blurted out.

“They didn’t like me much, thought less of me cause I had no cursed energy so I guess they didn’t want me ruining their reputation or whatever.” He yawned out.

It took a while for Megumi to process what he had just said and so the aroma of the room was quiet for a bit. Toji’s mind turmoiled into possible reactions from Megumi.

“Okay, thanks for answering my question.” Megumi returned before going back to reading his book.

“Why are you acting so nonchalant, you were the one who was so curious.” Toji questioned, was his awsome story not that interesting to Megumi?

“Yeah but I got my answer now so thanks I guess.”

“Wow that’s it? You don’t think I’m weak for letting them basically bully me?” Toji asked, questioning if maybe he put it off for so long for no reason at all.

“No? You were a kid. Aren’t all kids weak?” Megumi said still following the lines in his book.

“Nah not me, otherwise I would’ve been dead ages ago but here I am! With a cool scare on my lip. Do you think it’s cool?”

“If you say so”

“Just admit it ‘gum.” Toji walked away from the door towards Megumi attacking him with fake punches, messing up his hair with his fist.

He was glad that Megumi didn’t care as much about his past, however it did feel nice to finally share some of what happened to him as a kid.

“Okay okay fine it’s cool or whatever.” Megumi admitted, playfullytrying to fight off his dad secretly loving the time they got to spend together.

“Thank you for sharing it with me though, I was close to finding you a therapist” Megumi admitted jokingly.

“A therapist? The hell do I need a therapist for?” He argued.

“You were sat on the sofa with the meanest mug on your face, I know you were thinking about what I asked you.” Megumi admitted.

Toji grew embarrassed, he had not realised how wrapped up in his thoughts he had been. So much so that Megumi knew why he was so tense.

“Don’t watch me like that again. Let’s play another round of that game. Loser washes the dishes for a month.” Toji’s heavy figure jumped off of Megumi’s bed and ran out of the room like a child before he could get an answer.

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Megumi sighed in defeat, picking himself up and walking out of his room to see his dad, controller already in hand ready to beat his ass again.

“Hurry up and grab the controller boy, it’s about to be a whole lot of washing dishes for you this month.”

[allurilove]

It's Henry's first day at kindergarten but reader can't take him so Yan's husband goes instead

It’s your husband’s day off, and he would just absolutely love to spend it with his petulant son. Yandere husband dressed up Henry in his dark blue overalls, and even did his hair. He bought Henry a tiny green backpack that was filled with the essentials, and he made sure to buy supplies for the class too.

Yandere husband parked his car near the front of the school, and he glanced back at Henry who was strapped in his seat. Henry was pouting, his arms crossed, and his cheeks slightly puffed up.

“You look great.” your husband said with a small smile, and he reached over to give Henry a pat on the head. Henry scowled, his brows dipped with anger. The kid hated being alone with his father.

Henry leaned away before his father could touch him. “I know,” he said, with a tight grip on the shoulder straps, wringing them to control his first-day nerves. “Can you Facetime Mom now? I want to see her before I go to school.”

Yandere husband nodded, patting his pockets for his phone. “You know, your mother has a good reason why she couldn’t be here.”

You were at the doctor’s office, finally being able to see them after months of rescheduling and being rescheduled. Yandere husband knew how much this was important to you, and he got out of work for the day. He wanted to be there for you and Henry—to be a good husband and father. Of course, his son wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about spending a couple of minutes with him before school, but yandere husband would still be there for Henry.

“…and you know how she feels. She’s absolutely gutted-“ they both said at the same time. Henry rolled his eyes, hearing the whole speech of excuses the first time was alright, and hearing it again just made him feel worse. He didn’t like being away from you, and he dreamed of his first steps into his new school would be with you.

The car fell into silence as they both waited for you to pick up. Henry looked out the window, watching the swarm of kids with their parents and guardians— all with big and happy smiles. He felt a pit forming in his stomach when he heard his father dial you once more, but you must’ve been too busy to answer. Henry knew you wouldn’t have left him hanging if you saw that he was a nervous wreck. He usually had this extroverted facade around you, and acted like a kid that was ready to take on the world. However, he still needed you to hold his hand. He needed you to pick up and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

Yandere husband watched his son’s expression fall as he rang you for the third time. “Oh, uh—” he nervously chuckled, putting his phone back into his pocket. “She’s probably doing something important—” What was more important than him? “You know how it is, right, kid?”

Henry was used to hearing that about his father, but not about his mother. Mom always picks up, she would never miss a call. She always made time for him. “Call again.” Henry shook his head. “Keep calling her.”

You never answered any of your husband’s calls. Henry got out of the car with his father by his side, and they both held hands as they walked to the front doors. The young boy stared at the random permanent drawings on the brick wall, the words “hell” and “turn back around” standing out to him.

Sensing his son’s hesitation, yandere husband got down to his eye level. “The first day is always scary, I know that. I’ve had many first days, and I never got used to it, but it gets better every time! The feeling subsides—“

“What does ‘subsides’ mean?”

“Never mind that, Henry. You’ll meet new people, hang out with your friends, and make amazing memories,” yandere husband went on and on.

“Chin up, kid. You’re about to have the best—or the most mediocre—time of your life, and that’s alright!” he ended his speech with a solid slap on Henry’s back.

“Real encouraging, Dad.” Henry mumbled to himself, crossing his arms for some comfort. Henry then took a deep breath and shuffled forward. He turned around to give his father a brief wave, and he disappeared into his class.

[mintmatcha]

Bakugo starts to really reflect one night after having drinks with his coworkers, the shine in your eyes and the gentle smile aimed his way plaguing his mind all night. He can hear Cami in the shower singing to whatever pop rock shit they have on the radio these days, but it does little to interrupt the whirlwind of thoughts and memories clattering about in his mind.

'Look at them,' you had said softly tonight, gesturing to a pair of coworkers in a corner booth. 'They're so stinking cute together. It would be nice to have that myself, y'know?'

No, he doesn't know. He didn't have the most stellar role models in that department, he's hesitantly come to accept. Feeling defeated, Bakugo pulls a worn suitcase from the corner of the bedroom onto the bed, empty and waiting.

'Are you really thinking of going through with marrying Cami?' Uraraka said last year at a holiday party. 'I mean, she's really... intense. And not in a good way.'

An intensity that matched mine, Bakugo thought as he pulled handfuls of clothes from his side of the dresser. Thought that was what we both needed.

'You're engaged to Cami?? Wow, that's... that's great, Kacchan.' Deku couldn't hide his grimace when he told him the news.

You've always been shit at poker faces, nerd. Haphazardly, the suitcase is half full of what he deemed were essentials.

'Bakubabe, your grandmother's ring doesn't look good on her,' Mina had said with eyebrows raised. He'd chosen to ignore the double meaning and had growled out some retort instead. By now, the suitcase is so full that the zipper almost doesn't close all the way. Hefting it onto the floor, it weighs like nothing compared to his head and his heart; Bakugo wheels it to the front door, pointedly not looking at the signs of his life he shared with Cami littered throughout the house.

'Katsuki, I'm saying this as your best friend, but she is not good for you; please think about this! You're always fighting, and she's always making something up to cause nothing but trouble. That's not healthy!' Ei, that sunshine idiot, he thinks while tying his shoes. Maybe I should have listened to him a little more, been a little less stubborn. He's only been this adamant about her. Might've saved me years of my life.

Bakugo straightens out slowly, fishing his keys from his pocket to clench tight. The pain gives him something to focus on for a brief moment, steeling his resolve and his final decision.

"'It's not too late. You could still quit.'" He chuckles mirthlessly to himself. "Looks like I was talking to myself that day too, huh?" One last deep breath. "Whelp, here fucking goes."

The walk out to his car feels like a lifetime, but when he arrives at Deku's place unannounced, he surprisingly feels marginally lighter than his overstuffed suitcase.

It's the worst sleep of his life.

He can hear Izuku and Shouto through the walls, whispering about how long he's going to be on their couch. It's intercut with the incessant buzzing of his phone across the carpet, Cami's calls rolling in over and over again. She read the note he left, the explanation that he needs space, time and silence- but she's refusing to give him any of that. she threatens him and herself and you until his phone dies.

(a charger. the only thing he forgot)

But when he wakes up in the morning, at the ass crack of dawn, a kink in his neck the size of fucking Texas, he feels better than he has in a long while. He uses a couple of the kitchen pans and cooks a simple breakfast: Omelets, with a little bit of cream cheese and a whole lot of butter, the way his grandmother taught him.

[dear-ao3]

another f1 question from me bc i'm new, why do we not like the mclaren team

aright well without getting too into it because im going to get into it on the update post:

mclaren have 2 drivers: oscar and lando

lando has been with mclaren since 2019, has been signed with them the whole time hes been in f1. oscar has been with mclaren since 2023, has also been with mclaren the whole time hes been in f1

theyre both very strong drivers. mclaren is a top 4 team (theres 10 teams). they have the fastest car this season. they have been very consistent the whole season. oscar is the only driver to have finished every single race this season, lando has had only one dnf in a full length race. theres been 16 races this year, of those 16 races at least one mclaren driver has been on the podium for 13 of them. (most of any team)

anyway

red bull have been dominating the last few years. last year red bull won all but one race and max verstappen won all but three races. max won the drivers championship by like 250 points or something and red bull won the constructors championship by something insane like 400 points (not exact but u get the idea)

this season red bull is still on top but only by a little bit.

in the constructors (team) championship, red bull currently has 446 points. mclaren currently have 438. they are rapidly closing the gap to red bull (despite only winning three races this season) because both of their drivers are very consistent and they have a good car.

however. the drivers championship.

max currently is leading with 303 points. lando is in second with 241. charles (of ferrari) is in third with 217 and oscar is in 4th with 197.

there are still 8 races to go.

now it would be Hard for lando to win the drivers championship at this point, but it is not impossible. he is also definitely closer than oscar is. normally what happens is that a team picks one driver to prioritize because theyre more consistent/experienced/have more points/have a better chance at winning etc etc. lando has been doing better than oscar has in that regard (hes won 2 races, oscar has won one, lando has 4 pole positions this year, oscar has none, etc whatever)

despite this, mclaren are not prioritizing either of their drivers. the owner of the team, zak brown, has said now multiple times that they have "two number 1 drivers" which is weird. because lando is actually close to catching max in the championship. and this is not a chance btw that comes around all the time. f1 is a lot of luck, a lot of chance and then also skill. you can be the most skilled driver, but if your car sucks youre not going to win. mclaren have the fastest car, two very strong drivers and a solid chance to win the drivers championship with lando and the constructors championship as a team, but despite that, they are not prioritizing lando.

meaning that there are no team orders to have lando be running in front of oscar if the two cars are right next to eachother in position, theres no rules to not pass eachother, theres no rules for oscar to protect lando if he is leading. the only real rule seems to be to not hit eachother but they can race eachother (meaning the team wont say that one car needs to finish above the other car) which again, when you have a driver that is in contention to win a world championship, that is kind of insane.

so first there was a race a few races ago where lando was in first and got team orders to let oscar who was in second get past him so that he could win because oscar had been leading the whole race up until possibly the weirdest pit stop call mclaren could have made that essentially put lando in front of oscar. lando gave them a hard time about it but ultimately let oscar win because they told him that if he wanted to win a world championship that he was going to need oscars help (like as a number 2 driver)

so now this past weekend oscar passed lando on the first lap and took the lead (lando starts first and oscar started i think it was second) because there were no team orders for him to not do that. then towards the end oscar was in second and lando was in third (charles was in first which was something that mclaren let happen but thats not important right now) and the cars were close enough that they could have swapped positions. mclaren would have gotten the same number of points but lando would have gotten more points than oscar which would have helped him individually in the drivers championship because max was finishing behind him and this was a race where he was closing the point gap to max. but, mclaren didnt make that team orders call. so oscar finished second and lando finished third.

so essentially landos shot at a world championship title is getting bongled because of mclaren's inability to make the decision as to which driver is their number 1 driver.

so much so that nico rosberg (who was a part of one of the most infamous teammate rivalries where both him and lewis hamilton were at eahcothers necks for a championship title) has told mclaren now not once but twice that they need to make a call as to which driver is their number 1 driver because its going to hurt their drivers and also the team in the long run.

now none of this is oscar or landos fault. there could be contract stipulations that are preventing mclaren from picking a number 1 driver (oscars manager, mark webber, was an infamous number 2 driver to sebastian vettel during the time seb won his 4 consecutive championships so its possible that he might have something in oscars contract to prevent the same thing from happening to him or whatever) or it could be something else. reguardless, its clearly a team problem and not a driver problem. the drivers are there to race and if the team tells the two of them to race eachother they are going to race eachother. both of them are strong drivers and they want to win. but because the team is letting the two of them waste time racing eachother it opens the door for other people to win or for them to lose points or for lando to not end up winning the drivers championship.

its kind of confusing. but tldr: mclaren refuse to prioritize one driver over the other and theyre throwing away their chances at winning the championship because of it

will buxton (who infamously has some bad opinions but didnt on this one) summed it up really really well in the post race show this past weekend