#rainbow six imagine

[wastedr00k]

Ahhhh you’re back!!! I’m so happy to see you again! 🖤🖤 not sure if you will write for Fenrir from r6s? Some people are ok with him and others not so much. But if so could I please request either some nsfw headcanons or just a nsfw one shot of him and either a gender neutral or afab reader? Thank you so so much!

fenrir x reader (rainbow six siege)

synopsis; nsfw headcannons

genre; nsfw / 18+

words: 419

× on contrary to popular belief, fenrir leans more towards vanilla/loving sexual preference ; and he does not have much, if any, experiences with anyone else

× always eager to please his partner

× but that doesn't mean he won't use punishment as a teacher, if he deems fit, be prepared for a long night ;

sometimes he'll throw in some chemicals that act as a sex pollen, to either heighten your senses or/and increase your sexual desires, with consent of course

sensory deprivation for sure, blindfolded being his favorite among all for sure

× not an exhibitionist, he rather keep your body for his own private viewing and enjoyment

× a very verbal man during sex, either praises or degrading, sometimes he's feral side comes through and mixes both together, but it's always a good mix ;

"you're taking me so well, my darling. keep squeezing around me and i'll make sure to reward you well." Fenrir growls, his thrusts and pace unrelenting.

with your hands tied behind your back, cheeks pressed into the bed, there really wasn't much that you could say in response. all you could focus on was the feeling of Emil filling you up over and over again, his heat piercing you over and over again, pressing against all of your sweet spots.

"am i pleasuring you so well you can't even speak out a simple sentence? such a well behaved darling, letting me use your body like this." he chuckles and landed a slap on your ass cheeks, "keep still my darling, we still got a long night ahead.".

-

"you taste so sweet, give me more, use me to feel good." Emil breathed out, then pulling you down into his face by holding your thighs down. having you sit on his face has always been his favorite position. your hot flesh pressed against him while his tongue works in wonders on your heat, with his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave marks but he'll kiss it later anyway. as moans of his name leaves your mouth, you can't help but to notice his very erect cock, it's head covered in pre-cum. with your blurry vision, you leaned down to reach your mouth onto his dick, taking him into your mouth.

feeling the heat of your mouth warped around him, Fenrir lets out a deep growl, then letting go of your heat, moving his fingers takes his tongue's place, thrusting inside and out slowly while stretching you out, "such a good darling, pleasing me so good.".

-

× will be romantic during special occasions, and he'll pull up all the stops, all the way from rose petals to candles and anything he feels will help set the mood

× plenty of aftercare, during both romantic and punishment sessions, he may bully you once in a while but he still loves and cherishes you very much

× for sure ties up his hair during sex

[itsohh]

Harishva Pandey - 2023

[r6s-imagines]

jackal x reader >> quit your squirming

•••

MASTERLIST

warnings: swearing, light injuries, tiny bit of nsfw, makeout sesh

•••

summary: jackal needs more practice perfecting his appearance, and the organization pilot happy to provide assistance.

notes: LOL I STARTED WRITING AGAIN VINE BOOM

•••

your knees wobbled from the lack of movement as you stood from the foam pad on the pavement floor, wiping your forehead and leaving a thin streak of grime onto your skin. rainbow should invest more into their vehicle care than their damn firing range, you thought. what good is aim if you can’t take it anywhere? bias aside, your error report was due to the director and you felt your joints cry out as you took slow steps back into the facility.

the universe had oddly comedic timing, making you climb up three flights of stairs to get to the drop-off destination. your eyes traced the fine stripe running alongside the wall, catching each door label and looking for the right one.

having been employed there for a large part of your working age, the door placements were almost muscle memory. marius’s mechanics office was fourth door down the south wing. you’d been there a million times, and when you swore you hit the fourth door, you knocked once and looped your arm around the knob, swinging open the door.

“marius, i have the--”

“carajo!”

a whisper-yell violated your ears and you stumbled, spilling the documents across the floor. the lone wolf jackal was sitting at his desk, chip up toward the ceiling and a large weathered hand concealing his neck. quite literally being the last man you hoped to meet in your condition, your temperature flared up and you could feel your underarms dampening.

the spaniard's hair was slicked back with curly flyaways, water dripping down his thick neck. his facial hair seemed to be taking over his face, though not too unkempt. you always considered him a perfect specimen, from his stone-cold perspective on extractions to the way he'd rest against a wall during a business celebration. "perfect," in your mind, did not mean flawless. he's slipped up, missed meetings, sometimes even forgotten his helmet for a mission. he was your hot, imaginary disaster of a boyfriend. in your daydreams, at least.

to those besides yourself, to call specialist jackal a disaster would be a practical understatement. sure, you’d catch his passing glance in the transport helicopter or watch his back muscles flex as he shrugged on his vest, but that doesn’t mean his interior was stable.

ramírez was a man past his prime, yet not weathered to the extent of being “too old.” your trusted co-pilot, jäger, called him your salt and pepper crush (for unclear reasons to you) to the point of you threatening to send the copter straight into the ocean.

"ramírez," your voice cracked. "sorry for the interruption. it seems i entered the wrong door. have a good day."

"i- no- wait-" he huffed, lifting his hand from his neck. he glanced in the mirror which caused his eyes to widen. ramírez reached out to you, quickly yet tenderly taking hold of your forearm. "could you... help. really quick. please."

it seemed like a cruel setup to an evil prank. you were too old for games, but you could name a few other operators that would seem up for such a thing. he continued.

"could you get me some gauze, l/n? a cotton ball. something. anything, por favor."

"are you okay?"

"yes. i cut my neck shaving," he looked up to your panicked expression. "just a little nick, don't worry."

you scurried toward one of the many first aid kits nailed to the wall. you flipped it open, fumbling for some sort of bandage. you paused, gripping it in your palm.

now's your chance, mein frund, you could hear jäger in your head. you nodded to yourself and reentered his room. jackal had not moved from his position but was now standing an inch from his mirror.

"gracias," he thanked, reaching out to grab the gauze from your hand. your quick thinking caused you to pull back.

"let me help," you said, with a light smirk. it had been some time since you last had the chance to flirt, with work and all clouding your mind since you got out of college. "i can see it better. sit."

he sat down, legs wide. you shuffled between his left leg, practically sitting on it. he readjusted in his seat. without even thinking twice, you held his chin and turned it upward.

"i can't reach it, it's like.. right under your jaw-" you mumbled mostly to yourself. you watched his jaw clenched and eyes glue to the ceiling and said nothing about it. it's working. "where is it?"

"here," jackal whispered back, placing his hand over yours and moving your hand to his pulse. you began to wipe at the blood, yet it never seemed to stop. fighting the frustration, you furrowed your brow and continued cleaning his neck, when suddenly, you heard a low groaning noise.

"quit your squirming," you instructed, holding him down with more authority. he continued to breathe through his teeth, and you felt his body heat radiating despite the gap. you began to get worried.

"is this okay?" you asked, referring to the cut. his breathing became heavier and body stiffer.

"yes... hhh—stay like that."

you raised an eyebrow, checking your surroundings. during your frustrations, you seemed to have taken a seat on his lap, with your hand applying gentle pressure on the sides of his neck. you soon realized he was not talking about the blood.

"me encanta esto." it was almost inaudible, said barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

for a moment, time stopped. you pulled your gauze-hand back, and truly seizing this glorious opportunity, placed it on his chest. it was just as amazing as you pictured it felt. was this actually happening right now? is he just really into this, or is he so uncomfortable he can't even speak?

he lowered his chin, meeting your eyes once before glancing down at your lips. you couldn't help but admire his long, dark eyelashes. his lips parted.

"can i kiss you...?" ramírez asked, fixated on your mouth. you nodded, slowly.

as if waiting a million years, his instincts took over as he grabbed the back of your neck and waist, pulling you in and smashing your lips together. you kissed back feverishly, holding the sides of his face and starting to slowly grind against his thigh. he tasted like minty rain and you loved every bit of it. after nearly a minute straight, you pulled away, taking a deep catching breath. you were so caught up against his lips you didn't notice the small trail of blood soaking into his shirt collar.

"ramírez—" you began, but he kissed you once more, just as deeply but as quick as a peck.

"thank you for the help," he replied in a low rumble. "i think i've got it from here."

you jumped up, remembering the report. you started to apologize before he grabbed your hand, squeezing it once.

"i'll be here. don't worry, i'll wait for you."

you nodded, closing his door behind you. it felt like high school prom! you cheered to yourself, throwing punches and kicking the air. who knew it was that easy?!

[kiruuuuu]

Siege the Valentine's, Day 11 💘

Hi all, you know the drill, follow @dualrainbow for more events like these and so you don't miss a single entry 😁 Thank you again to all the people organising this and thank you also to the participants!

My entry is a wholesome one (for once) about how Bandit and Jäger go on a date, but not really. I hope you enjoy it!! (Bandit/Jäger, Rating T, fluff, ~3.7k words)

.

“You better dress up for our date later.”

Bandit looks up only once his shoe is lightly kicked and greets his teammate with a wide grin, noticing how Rook’s head in the background whips around at the statement. “Rented a tux for you, babe. You better follow… suit.”

He earns a very satisfying groan and an eye roll, warranting no further questions from Jäger himself, though prompting IQ to lean over. “What are your plans for today?”

“Let’s see…” Bandit glances at the other man to check he’s not forgetting anything. “Early film, of course the most romantic one we could find, then a candle light dinner at an Italian place near the sports park, and if I play my cards right, it’ll turn into a sleepover with benefits.”

“Nice.” IQ nods in appreciation. “Learnt your lesson last year, huh?”

Bandit has long noticed they hold all the attention belonging to an increasingly confused-looking Rook who’s trying his best not to stare, so he hams it up even more. “Yeah, eating dinner first and then going to the cinema was a nightmare, we had to beg the waiter to rush our food even though they were swamped because the old couple who stole our table just wouldn’t leave and Marius was cranky the entire time. We only barely made the film and were too stressed out for any… other activities afterwards. Unlike today, hopefully.” He winks at Jäger and receives a sincere nod in return.

“I was in favour of just staying home and making some food ourselves, but he vetoed that. Vehemently.”

“Look, it would’ve been fine if you were still in your pickled phase, but fermentation?” Bandit makes a face in IQ’s direction. “You don’t want to know how much kimchi I’ve had to try in the last months. And those salty half-alcoholic fruits that never turned out right -”

“The kimchi was fine”, Jäger insists, getting huffy, “you’re just mad because I refused to make beer for you.”

“Absolutely no reason to just leave food lying around until it gets kinda mouldy. I don’t even like sauerkraut.”

“Soy sauce is fermented, actually, and you might as well drink the stuff with how -”

“You’re going on a date?”

It just burst out of Rook – even he seems appalled at his sudden interjection yet his curiosity must burn too bright for he does not recant his question. Instead, his eyes dart between them, seeking a specific reaction, a revealing sign, anything.

“Yeah”, Bandit replies easily, “just one of many, you know.” He doesn’t need to look to know Jäger nods in confirmation. IQ probably does as well.

“So…”

No way he’s letting him off the hook like that. Instead of picking up on Rook’s non-verbal implication, Bandit simply raises his brows expectantly and waits. He’s going to make him say it.

After he’s fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, he finally blurts out: “So you two are dating.”

IQ throws him a pitying look. He’s not the first and he won’t be the last, and this whole thing is part of why Bandit enjoys days like Valentine’s so much. His smirk is overly smug yet he makes no effort to reign it in. “Of course we’re not. Never have, never will. What makes you think that?”

And he just soaks up the mixture of bemusement and annoyance radiating from the young Frenchman.

.

He’d be hard pressed to remember all the details from their first ‘date’, though some aspects preserved themselves illegally in his mind: when he pictures it, all he sees is a lanky, withdrawn nerd who grimaces every time anyone mentions Christmas around him, so Bandit naturally did what he always does. He pokes and prods and rubs it in until he finally gets a straight answer out of his current object of curiosity, and the one they called Jäger admitted his long-term boyfriend recently broke up with him so now all their plans for the festive season were nullified, leaving him devoid of company. And hey, what a coincidence, Bandit’s then-girlfriend (not for much longer, obviously) had just accepted an invitation to her horribly backward, racist and homophobic family’s party and he’d been looking for a good excuse to ditch her.

So they did the most stereotypical shit they could come up with, watched Die Hard and ate potato salad and drank too much beer until Jäger passed out on his couch, and then they proceeded to not interact with each other for a long time. The chance never really came up, is the thing, and Bandit did an undercover gig and Jäger was sent somewhere else after and then a year had passed and Bandit asked for his plans for Christmas with a tongue-in-cheek comment, referring to the previous year and expecting a laugh and to be shot down (like Jäger usually does when it comes to social events with people he doesn’t know well, Bandit is aware and stopped inviting him without changing anything else about their conversations which somehow seemed to put Jäger at ease) – except Jäger is the one who suggests they celebrate Christmas like the Japanese and get KFC together.

And as a casual acquaintanceship slowly blooms into something more, they involuntarily learn a variety of things about each other. Bandit’s habit of putting a cigarette behind his ear, losing it almost immediately and complaining loudly while he calculates how much that single cancer stick cost him. Jäger’s preferences in food, which are as cryptic as they are manifold: sometimes he rejects dishes for consistency, sometimes for colour, sometimes for reasons unknown to everyone including him, and Bandit forgets them all the second Jäger divulges them which turns out to be fine as they keep changing from month to month anyway. Jäger tries futilely to convince him not to buy a new motorcycle whenever the urge overtakes him, and they inevitably end up tuning it together.

Eventually, Jäger readily offers advice whenever Bandit describes whoever he’s flirting with at that point, and Bandit talks a little about his night terrors (though not sober, he needs to be dead drunk, meaning the opportunity presents itself quite often), and Jäger laments his difficulties in finding anyone with whom he’s comfortable enough to start a relationship, and the two of them swap work stories that leave them the unhealthy flavour of desolate. But it’s either Bandit’s dry sarcasm or Jäger’s genuine enthusiasm about his current fixation that allows them to move on, and then one year, everyone brags about their perfect Valentine’s date, so naturally, Bandit and Jäger name each other as their Valentine’s. They go ice skating and Bandit ends up with a bloody nose and nearly a finger less than before and they conclude that next time, they’d rather do something more romantic.

It just escalates from there. Though they do spend significant holidays with their families or, rarely, their partners whenever possible, more often than not something comes up and they just celebrate together. By the time they can’t remember how long they’ve been friends they’re leaning into it all the way, sipping sickly-sweet cocktails on Christmas while slagging Hallmark-like films shown on TV, mocking the many advertisements in between to the point where Jäger is red in the face and can’t breathe anymore.

(When Bandit finds out Jäger is following him into Rainbow, he ends up crying. Could be all the gin and tonic, who knows, could be the relief of knowing he’ll have someone who has his back no matter what, but he knows he wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been pissed, and he certainly wouldn’t have done it had he known Jäger would mirror him. It’s not – not a sob fest or anything, they don’t cling to each other shedding tears of joy, it’s just annoyingly wet and a pain to wipe away of which he does a bad job of hiding while Jäger gets some tissues for himself, and they quickly change the topic afterwards.)

.

“I don’t actually know which film we’re seeing.” Jäger bounces on his heels in impatience, eyes darting around the lobby trying to find the poster that reveals whichever kitsch Bandit might’ve picked.

“You’re remarkably calm about that.” He’s busy operating the vending machine responsible for dispensing reserved tickets, a blessing as far as Bandit is concerned – he doesn’t need to talk to a human being and the poor cashiers don’t have to deal with his sorry attitude. “When I was sixteen, Ced invited my girlfriend and me to a double date and kept the film a secret. It turned out to be some fucked-up gory horror flick. I think I still have the scars from where my girlfriend clawed into my arm while trying not to scream.”

Jäger scoffs. “I would’ve dumped you for that.”

“Even though it wasn’t my fault?”

“No, because you probably laughed at her and brought it up at every opportunity. You told me how you were at sixteen.”

There’s no arguing there. Bandit grins and snatches the printed-out tickets before Jäger can sneak a peek. “I did, and she did dump me. Now she’s working as an accountant and has like three kids, so who really lucked out in the end?” His companion opens his mouth. “Don’t answer that. Let’s go.”

In true date night fashion, Jäger links his arm with Bandit’s and they meander through the floors together, commenting on a few cardboard cutouts and which one they’d put up in their homes if they had to choose. Eventually, Jäger voices a sudden oh! and yanks Bandit to a halt so abruptly he nearly drops the popcorn they’re going to share. “It’s this one, isn’t it.” He points to a pink-framed, mellow poster picturing a woman beaming up at a man at sunset. “This is the worst one I’ve seen so far. What is it called? Building a Bridge to Cloud Nine? Seriously?”

“That doesn’t sound OSHA-compliant.”

“If it’s about a career-oriented woman who falls in love with a builder, I’m walking out.”

“I bet it’s a really sexy quantity surveyor. His catchphrase is ‘let me survey your quantity’.”

Jäger beams at him with an amused and delighted expression not unlike the one displayed by the actress on the poster, and for a brief second, Bandit is filled with the sudden epiphany of this is exactly what I want. Followed by a derisive mental sneer, of course, because he’s far from being the romantic type – quite the opposite. Still, he can’t deny that he craves intimacy, however shape it eventually takes, and he’s secretly glad he didn’t actually choose a film that would fuel this particular desire.

Why can’t it ever be easy? Why is it always complicated, draining, requiring constant work and mental resources, why is being in a relationship so goddamn hard? Bandit has tried, couldn’t even count the attempts if he wanted, and there was always a wall they hit, sooner rather than later. He’s been accused as selfish, withdrawn, brooding, even his therapist complained about him not opening up enough. He doesn’t see why it’s necessary. There are people in his life who know enough about him so that nobody else needs to, like Blitz. Like Jäger.

Why can’t it ever be as easy as with Jäger? They settle into the loveseat like it’s the most natural thing in the world (and it was only last year that Jäger booked one for kicks for the first time though it turned out to be much more comfortable than they expected), and, because it’s Valentine’s and they have to keep the theme going, Bandit puts an arm around him and Jäger laughs but cuddles up to him and the point is making everyone around them think they’re a couple anyway. The gangly nerd is flexible enough to sit cross-legged and it almost feels like they’re just at home on the couch watching something in private. Very cosy.

The cosiness is only briefly diminished when a series of gruesome deaths happen on screen as a building collapses, impaling someone with a steel bar while someone else’s head gets squished between two concrete blocks. Jäger turns to him with a glint in his eye. “Is this the new Final Destination?!”, he whispers. His delight only grows when Bandit nods with a smirk. “I love them! They’re terrible.”

They are. Bandit figured there’s no better film to watch on the day of love than this schlock and, judging by Jäger’s thinly-veiled excitement, he’s not alone in this opinion. He pushes away his musings about relationships and the likes and leans back to enjoy the grisly spectacle.

.

“- look, just stop me if you don’t care about this stuff, but I need to tell someone how wrong they got it”, Jäger blabbers, still exhilarated from the film, “because buildings don’t work like that. Not the one they chose, anyhow, there’s not just… air between the floors, there’s wiring and -”

Though it’s the last thing Bandit wants to do, he interrupts his companion with a gentle: “I think you should order.” He’s already conveyed his choice of food and drink through a series of subtle pointing, acknowledged by the amused waitress with a nod as they’re both subjected to one of Jäger’s famous rants. It usually takes every new person in the engineer’s life about two to three months before they get to witness one since he watches himself carefully around casual acquaintances, which means most people experience him as a friendly and modest co-worker with no noteworthy eccentricities.

But once he’s thawed enough and one of his current pet peeves is brought up (they change depending on his current fixation), there’s no stopping him. He’s never angry, just passionate, with an overwhelming urge to share his grievances with anyone willing to listen, and they’re always factually flawless. Bandit couldn’t name half the topics on which he became an unwitting expert purely by existing around Jäger for so long.

When he loses his train of thought, however, is distracted or interrupted by anything, Jäger deflates instantly and requires a few sincere prompts to start up again. And as much as Bandit loves listening to him, he is quite hungry.

The peppy waitress, who takes it in stride and seems to find the whole thing extremely cute, helps Jäger pick something with no fuss and promises them a short wait time despite the busy restaurant. Seems like they chose well, the service is fast and friendly and the other customers appear satisfied with their dishes.

Jäger comes to the same conclusion and comments: “Nice place. How’d you find it?”

“They offer a discount for couples today.” Bandit winks at him, making him laugh.

“Do I need to start calling you ‘babe’ now so we don’t strain your wallet too much?”

“Oh I think we’re plenty convincing already.” From the few glances and smiles they’ve earned between entering the restaurant and now, he’s sure they have everyone fooled. “We’re like an old married couple who managed to keep the magic alive and still go on dates together.”

His friend shrugs. “We might as well be.”

Yeah. It’s not that far from the truth with how much time they spend in each other’s presence. “Alright, so back to the structural integrity of an office building”, he changes topics and Jäger’s face lights up instantly.

.

“Don’t be ridiculous”, Bandit grumbles as they walk arm in arm through the brightly-lit and pink-clad shopping centre as a shortcut to his car. It’s already dark and though they’ve got to work the next day, they’ve both decided on watching another film in Jäger’s apartment to conclude their ‘date’.

“I don’t make the rules – I get the bill, I’m the top.”

Outraged, he tries to nudge Jäger into a potted plant but his companion merely spins them around it, laughing. “I’ve always gotten the bill before. Every waiter and waitress we’ve had decided I’m the top, the outlier today means nothing.”

“Maybe she just wanted to show her support of top twinks who are as vocal in bed as they are in conversation.”

“Or she didn’t like me and wanted to piss me off.”

“Or she wanted to introduce you to new opportunities, you know. She figured we’d discuss it and I’d get a chance to say I’ve secretly wanted to top you for years now but didn’t know how to bring it up -”

“Marius, you’re so experienced I’d let you top me in a heartbeat if you asked.”

Jäger is about to retort when a blonde woman with a camera addresses them, and Bandit is almost glad for the distraction. While they’ve talked about plenty of sexual escapades before, it was never really about them and something about it made him… uneasy. As if they’re toeing some kind of line. Which is nonsense, they’ve been close friends for so long now that if anything was going to happen between them, it’d have happened years ago, they know too much about each other.

“Sorry to bother you”, the young woman says, eyeing them with a smile, “I’m a freelance photographer and I’m working on a personal project featuring couples of all races and genders – would it be alright if I took a photo of you two?”

The option of correcting her doesn’t even enter Bandit’s mind. He flashes her a winning grin and drags Jäger to a more favourable position next to him. “Of course, go ahead. Today is probably the perfect day for your project, hm?”

“I don’t really like having my picture taken”, Jäger mutters in protest but lets Bandit move him around anyway.

“Babe, you always look camera-ready.” The two of them exchange a look, Bandit innocently smiling and Jäger with a dark scowl, which is exactly when the woman photographs them. “Wait, take another one, you didn’t catch his beautiful smile.”

Somehow, this does not seem to lighten Jäger’s mood. The woman, being a professional, seems to sense his discomfort with presenting himself for other people and opts for a different tactic: “Do you want to try kissing?”

Hell yeah. This will make for a fantastic story tomorrow and even more in-jokes between the two of them, so Bandit doesn’t even think twice about it. He catches sight of a raised eyebrow and curled lips and assumes Jäger is once again reading his mind, as he always does when Bandit is up to his shenanigans, and then he’s already pulled the other man to his chest and locked lips with him. They barely manage a proper kiss at first because Jäger pulls away as soon as Bandit’s tongue touches him, but when Bandit quietly calls him a chicken, Jäger returns with a vengeance. Fully aware of their audience, they violently snog while refusing to allow each other the upper hand and Bandit has to exert immense self-control not to burst out into laughter. He’d love it if they made it into some sort of exhibition among all kinds of other couples with this.

And then he notices he’s wrapped both arms tightly around the other man, and Jäger’s hands are sneaking into his biker jacket to stroke over his sides, and somehow…

It’s not the same, kissing Jäger versus kissing anyone else, though he’s not really sure why. He’s a good kisser, now that the initial playfighting has turned into something more cooperative, and he smells nice, and the faux fur of his jacket is tickling Bandit’s cheek, and their lips are moving against each other like they’ve done it a thousand times before, and this kiss has lasted a long time already, they should probably stop. No use in milking it any further. They got their material, time to move on.

Jäger’s tongue curls against his own and he’s left wondering why it’s so good to feel him in his arms like this, why it felt so good to spend a whole film with Jäger snuggled up to him, why he couldn’t stop smiling as Jäger pointed out all the flaws afterwards, and there’s really only one explanation for all this, the only one that makes sense, and then somebody wolf-whistles them.

Without a second thought, Bandit breaks the kiss to turn in the direction of the whistle and yell out an instinctual: “Fuck off!” He regrets it instantly as he spots another gay couple grinning at them over their shoulders while walking away. So… no sarcasm, instead probably a show of appreciation. “Damn, they were really hot, too”, he mutters, feeling Jäger shake with silent laughter. The photographer has disappeared entirely; she likely figured they needed some privacy.

And all of a sudden, this is extremely awkward. He turns back and Jäger is still smiling though there’s a decidedly lost quality to his features, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself either.

When the prolonged silence of them hugging and gazing into each other’s eyes helplessly becomes too unbearable, Jäger utters aptly: “Well. Whoops.”

Bandit snorts and tries to hide his burning face in the side of Jäger’s fluffy hood. “Fuck, man.”

“I don’t think I can pretend that didn’t happen”, Jäger mumbles to Bandit’s relief as he feels much the same way. “Were you – did you know -”

“Let’s not talk about it here, alright?”

A nod. “Alright.”

They both take a deep breath before separating and though Bandit misses the physical proximity straightaway, the dull yearning is alleviated by fingers interlacing with his own. If this is what’s been going on with the two of them, without them being aware of it, it would explain a lot of things. He tries his best to calm racing thoughts, not very successfully, and a random one pops into his head, unbidden: if Rook gets wind of this, he’ll have a field day.

“You know”, Jäger says, cheeks red and not looking at him, thumb stroking over the back of Bandit’s hand, “if this turns out to be our first proper date, it was a pretty good one.”

“It was”, Bandit agrees. Now he just needs to play his cards right.

[pl3aseb3k1ndanc1v1l]

Help last night I had a dream where the characters from The Little Mermaid played Rainbow Six Siege, and when I woke up, that was like the only thing I could think about and I just kept giggling to myself like a little girl while I was eating some croissants. 💀💀💀

[unbindingkerberos]

🐤🐤💕

[miss-floral-thief]

I think i like fanta a bit more than sunkist

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

How do you think Nanami would announce your pregnancy to Gojo and the jujutsu high cast…. Possible fic idea?

Rainbow Baby

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, TW- mentions of a previous miscarriage, (is not described, but it’s heavily referenced), grief, tooth-rotting fluff at the end, happy ending that you and nanami deserve.

An: This is def not the fic that I accidentally wrote about the wrong character for. I definitely did not write this entire fic about Satoru before rereading your request and seeing that you clearly wrote for Nanami.

Nanami is a private man — not secretive, just private. While he loves when you visit school to see him because your presence eases his weary mind, he doesn’t flaunt you around to his coworkers. It’s honestly just a known thing around the school that Kento has a very pretty wife who he doesn’t introduce to anyone.

There is only one exception to the rule: the man who isn’t afraid of anything and has no concept of social boundaries, Satoru Gojo.

Nanami watched in utter disdain as Satoru always found a way to inset himself into yours and Nanami’s conversations. He never bothered to hide how much Gojo gets on his nerves.

However, Satoru gets a pass. Nanami may shoot him death glares and give him short, irritated responses, but Nanami will never shoo him away.

Satoru gets a pass because he was the one who made sure you and Nanami didn’t drown in grief when you two lost your first little one.

Nanami hadn’t even told anyone that you were pregnant yet — it was so early on. You two were still enjoying keeping it a small secret between you two. However, Gojo picked up on it immediately after seeing you. You weren’t showing, but he could see the small bundle of yellow and orange energy radiating from your tummy with his six eyes.

To Nanami’s surprise, Satoru didn’t make a huge deal out of it. He shook Nanami’s hand while whispering a quiet congratulations into his ear. Nanami laughed as he realized that Satoru knew, and he pulled the white haired male into a hug.

Satoru immediately knew something was wrong when Nanami didn’t show up for work the next week. Deciding to check up on his friend, he stopped by yours and Nanami’s house.

Nanami looked like a wreck compared to his normally put together self when he answered the door. His skin was pale, dark bags under his puffy red eyes from crying. He was wearing a shirt and grey sweatpants. You looked even worse…

Satoru didn’t need an explanation whenever the small bundle of energy was no longer present in your tummy.

If it wasn’t for Satoru, Nanami was sure that the grief was going to consume both of you. You were… you were understandably a wreck, and Nanami was so heartbroken himself that he struggled to hold you together. He was the man of the relationship, but he lost a child too. He had to witness his wife go through the worst pain imaginable, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Satoru checked up on you two often. He never mentioned what he knew, which was comforting. He was just always there with a kind smile and food plus desserts. Even though you and Nanami barely would eat anything, Satoru would come over anyways.

He was the only thing constant and stable in yours and Nanami’s lives. He was the only one who knew, and he helped you two out with a level of empathy and care that Nanami didn’t know he was capable of. The house would get cleaned. Food would be served. Different bills and other miscellaneous items ended up being paid.

Soon, the grief became easier to deal with. You and Nanami learned how to cope with the loss and start living again. The grief books lie by the way. You never truly get over the loss of a baby. You just learn how to live with the subtle ache in your heart.

It sneaks up on you sometimes. You see a small baby on tv, and you’re in shambles. Nanami watches Kusakabe announce his wife’s pregnancy, and he has to excuse himself to the restroom for a breather.

Satoru spent father’s and mother’s day with you and Nanami. It’s not like he had any family to celebrate with anyways. He brought you two gifts - making sure to remind you two that you are still parents. Your little one just isn’t on this earth.

So when you see those two pink lines on a test a year later, you feel your heart stop. You can’t take another heartbreak. You’re so scared; you don’t even want to tell Nanami. You two weren’t exactly trying for another baby, but you weren’t preventing one either.

You and Nanami celebrated, cried, laughed, rejoiced, mourned, grieved, every emotion hit you two like a truck when you revealed your pregnancy to him.

You don’t stop by the school for a little while. You and Nanami are both not ready for Satoru to find out… especially not during the first trimester when it’s possible that miscarriage can happen again…

Once you hit 20 weeks and know the baby’s gender, you finally think it’s time to let Satoru know. Nanami reluctantly agrees — also because Satoru has been hounding Nanami for weeks about where you’ve been. Satoru misses the cookies you’d always bake for him.

“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?” Nanami asks the white haired male at work that evening. Satoru immediately perks up, knowing this is basically an invitation to come over.

“Nah, I was thinking about getting hot pot. Why?” Satoru asks, trying not to sound overly excited, but it’s a rarity when Nanami formally invites him over. He also hasn’t seen you in so long. He wants to spill all the new tea to you since you like that sort of thing, unlike Nanami.

“My wife baked those cookies you love so much. You should stop by tonight.” Oh, and Satoru was getting sweets? Hell yeah.

Though, the cookies wasn’t the biggest treat of the night. When Satoru enters your home behind Nanami, he walks to the kitchen where you’re standing over freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Your tummy is rounded, and there’s a strong accumulation of golden energy residing in you.

“You’re-!?” Satoru’s eyes widen and he flicks his head quickly between you and Nanami. Your husband playfully rolls his eyes, but his smile tells you everything you need to know. He’s proud to be announcing your pregnancy.

“Yes, she’s pregnant.” He answers with a laugh, and Gojo pulls him in for a tight hug. Even if Satoru lacks some social skills, he’s able to read people like a book. He knows that this is all you and Nanami have ever wanted — a little family to call your own.

Now, imagine his big blue eyes welling with tears when he sees the cookies have writing on them.

“Nice to meet you, Uncle Toru!”

Now, imagine how fucking ecstatic Nanami is when he finally gets the privilege to announce your pregnancy to the rest of the school. He’s private with his life, but after everything you two have been through, he happily announces your pregnancy to anyone — everyone.

Oh, and your baby girl, Satori, was born happy and healthy. Besides you and Nanami, Satoru was the first one to meet your sweet baby. Yes, he cried like he was the baby when he found out about her name.

[retromochi]

lovingly still drawing mlp redesigns in the year of our lord 2024 these are kind of for a very casual next gen au of mine, but honestly i just like imagining ponies in different ways :-) (more info + headcanons under the cut!)

fluttershy: - trans (she/her), sapphic, autistic - she's a deerpony mix, with her maternal grandmother being a deer and her maternal grandfather a pegasus. - has sensory issues with cutting her hair, so she's content to just let it be long. - has large wings, but not a lot of strength. she's better at gliding, and can't really get herself into the air very well. - tallest of the mane six. twilight: - nonbinary (they/she), bisexual, autistic - all ponies have magic in them that can give their bodies physical changes, with twilight being an extreme example. the star patterns on her chest appeared after wielding the elements of harmony for the first time, the stars on her hooves appeared after becoming an alicorn, and the yellow streak in her hair appeared after defeating tirek. - has fairly bad eyesight, but prefers using her glasses rather than using magic to fix her vision. - can't fly as fast as most pegasi, but has good endurance. - shortest of the mane six, although she's only barely shorter than rainbow. pinkie pie: - gnc (any pronouns, but loves being called sister), pansexual - her full name is rose quartz pie, in line with the rock and gemstone theme in her family, but pinkie was a nickname that just stuck. - chiffon swirl/mrs. cake is her maternal aunt, they have more in common than pinkie does with her mom, but pinkie loves them both equally. - her strength nearly rivals applejack, she has super strong legs from bouncing and jumping everywhere. applejack: - bigender (he/she), sapphic - inherited her father's hat and her mother's hairbands - all of the apple siblings have accessories left to them by their parents. - prefers going by AJ or jackie, only granny smith usually calls her by her full name. - ties up her hair when working, and keeps the fetlocks on her back hooves trimmed short.

rainbow dash: - nonbinary (he/she/they), queer, ADHD - like twilight, rainbow has extreme examples of her body changing with magic. her cutie mark got longer after performing each sonic rainboom, and the colors in her hair appeared after she got her cutie mark to begin with. - originally named bluejay dash, changed her name to match her new look. her parents still call her "jay" from time to time. - never quite shook the rainbow crash nickname, she's a great flier but not so great at landings. has a fair share of scrapes and bruises, but they dont bother her. rarity: - cis (she/her), omnisexual - part crystal pony on her dad's side, her mane and coat have a slight crystaline look to them in the right light. - changes her hairstyle a lot, but has it tied up when working in her studio. - crafts beautiful jewelry, in addition to her clothes and accessories.

[bbyseok]

thinking about teen satosugu who miss you a lot when you go on long missions.

it’s kinda funny, actually, how the strongest duo of jujutsu sorcerers act in your absence. unfortunately, solo missions aren’t uncommon for the three of you, and long missions are especially dreadful.

especially when you are the one assigned to go on the long mission by yourself.

the two are subtly closer on the days before you have to leave. whether you notice it or not, you don’t comment on the amount of times gojo has thrown an arm over your shoulders or how often your fingers brush against geto’s since he’s standing so close.

and when you finally depart from jujutsu high, you bet they’re blowing up your phone with random texts of asking about your wellbeing, how the mission was going, etc.

back in the quarters of the school, gojo and geto are miserable. don’t get me wrong, on the first couple of days they’re fine. but come around the third or fourth day without you there, they resort to borrowing your things.

so what if gojo has one of your shirts? he just forgot to do his laundry. and maybe geto took a bottle of your shampoo. he coincidentally ran out of his!

but on one particular solo mission, you’re gone for two weeks. that’s the longest they’ve ever went without seeing you—shoko, their junior classmates, and even yaga himself, were starting to get concerned for them.

by the end of the first week they’re convinced that gojo is going to start firing off blues left ‘n right, and geto might summon the rainbow dragon at every little inconvenience.

one night, the lack of you gets so unbearable that gojo finds himself tiptoeing down the halls, his feet leading him to your dorm.

when he opens it, he’s greeted with the sight of suguru already inside, frozen as he looks at satoru like a deer in headlights.

“satoru?”

“suguru?”

gojo blinks owlishly, confused. geto looks to be in a similar state as him, restless like he couldn’t sleep. “what are you doing in their room?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” suguru shoots back.

“…i forgot something.”

a blatant lie, and they both know it.

when suguru gives him a pointed, unconvinced look, satoru holds his hands up with a sigh, “okay, fine, fine. i was..”

“missing them?” suguru fills in, his head tilting and bangs falling over his eyes messily, and satoru has the strong urge to brush them to the side.

instead, he nods and closes the door behind him. as if in silent agreement, they both approach your dorm bed. they share a knowing glance before climbing in.

it’s a hilarious struggle at first—they’re unbelievably tall and the dorm beds aren’t built to hold two muscular teenagers over six feet.

“move.”

“no, you move, my arm was there first.”

“you’re going to elbow me!”

“don’t make me kick you off the bed!”

it doesn’t matter, ‘cause eventually they end up cuddling some time throughout the night, whether it was intentional or not. a warm bundle of entangled limbs with your scent clinging onto the blanket and pillows.

and it then becomes a routine with you gone. they meet in your dorm during the dead of night to seek comfort in each other and your things—mainly your bed.

when you finally return from your mission, they’re back to normal if anything, praising your efforts and welcoming you back to jujutsu high like they didn’t spend most of the time wallowing after your departure.

so when you’re assigned another solo mission, just imagine your surprise when you return early for once, only to find the pair of boys snuggling underneath your blanket.

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: The ☆Glow-Up☆ 2024 Has Planned For you

♠︎ “At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvelously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. 

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✧ Pile One ✧ (queen of cups, 5oC rev., 10oC, the chariot, the magician, 4oS)

Release.

➣ The central theme of this glow-up is inner fulfillment. You are on a journey of true self-love. The queen of cups is sitting proudly at the front of the spread. Major water energy here. You are unraveling emotional trauma down to your roots and reevaluating past attachments and burdens with the six of cups.

➣ I picture floodgates opening, allowing all of the pent-up emotional turmoil to release and finally free you on a deep psychophysiological level. You released something, an attachment or mindset that was set in motion during your formative years that was hindering your ability to hold compassion for yourself.

➣ Shuffling my music, "Daddy Issues" by the Neighbourhood came on. I also saw the hierophant while shuffling the cards. You experienced a lot of undervaluing and emotional neglect in your home. Emotions in your home were taboo and possibly even punished.

➣ I feel like the people around you growing up, were either always dissatisfied with you in some way or made you feel small. Since this is a group reading, it is hard to word this without excluding a large chunk of the audience, but some of you grew up in a home situation where any form of outward self-love or expression was met with a lot of negativity and ridicule. 

➣ This forced you into hiding your true self which groomed you into a mental space full of self-criticism and doubt. In your mind, you were unwanted or inherently broken in some way and deserved less. The way you were treated created deep emotional wounds in your young psyche which made it hard to feel satisfaction within yourself or with the outer world.

➣ With the five of cups, I get the sense that you had felt you were in a desert and unable to fill any of your cups so to speak. Baby, that’s coming to an end. The ten of cups is at the center of your spread with a big ass RAINBOW touching corner to corner. The drought is over. The dark days are over. The sun is shining and you can taste hope again. 

➣ On this self-love journey, you are currently grieving (releasing) a degraded perception of yourself along with any beliefs that inhibit you from feeling good about your character.

➣ You are realizing just how enough you are and flushing out all of the poison that was crammed in your head about being inadequate. You are freeing yourself from the chains of feeling unworthy of a good life.

➣ You will find true beauty in every corner of you. Beauty in your laugh, beauty in how you dance, beauty in how you take care of yourself, beauty in what you care about, inner beauty that cannot be taken from you or scaled down. You will nurture your inner world, thus adding color to your outer world.

➣ During this major life-changing period, your view of reality will flip in a way you never thought imaginable. Life will feel worth living again. Your music will move you more and the swift pass of wind will invigorate you with new ideas for creative projects that will propel you forward to lifelong prosperity.

➣ I’m hearing 🎵 “… I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so proud of you” from Make Me Proud by Drake. Congratulations babe, you just broke a fucking karmic cycle. 10 of cups, following the 5 of cups??? You have graduated from a dark knight of the soul and are now approaching new, abundant energy.

➣ The universe is proud of you. Your ancestors are proud of you. Your inner child is proud of you. Your God(s) is proud of you. All of the cells in your body are proud of you. You have released something cosmically within you. Please hug yourself and have a good cry because you are doing something you never believed you could. Your hopes and dreams are unfolding.

➣ Get ready to make your daydream your reality.  With the chariot, you’re prepping to TAKE AWWFF BABY. The release of this blockage has raised your energetic vibration and is ushering bountiful opportunities into your life, new passions, new ideas, and new connections. 

➣ Your newfound faith in yourself is going to give you the courage to go out and experience life. Most importantly you will find satisfaction in the mundane. Every frame of your day will be brighter and feel better. You have gone from 5 empty cups to an eternally flowing fountain. Take the time to thank yourself for all of the hard work you put in to get here. 

➣ Advice: Extend yourself grace. During this period, you will have enlightening moments that will unlock pieces of the puzzle surrounding your trauma and a lot more will make sense and become easier to process. 

➣ However, as the flawed humans we are, we tend to make sense of something and then turn around and beat ourselves up for not realizing it sooner. Or, minimizing our pain and criticizing our past selves for not doing more about it because hindsight truly is a dirty dawg. No that is not how it works. 

➣ That’s like when you were in school and the teacher would start bullying you for not understanding a subject. YOU HAVE A DEGREE??? I’m fourteen?? Of course, you can say it's simple when you have already “graduated” and learned from it, not when you’re in the middle of experiencing it.  You gained clarity during this tower moment and can now see the bigger picture and liberate yourself. 

➣ Younger you fought to make your way through the fog and deserves grace because you would not be here today without your younger self’s perseverance. Forgive yourself for the time it took to get here and see the beauty in your evolution throughout the journey.

➣ Also, drink plenty of water and get rest!! It’s Pisces season, and a Pisces new moon is coming too. Most of your trauma will unravel while you’re unconscious. Please get plenty of rest and hydrate. This pile has Cancer/4th house energy written all over it. Mother yourself during this period. Clean your room, make your favorite foods, watch cheesy movies, and splurge on special skin care. Pamper yourself. okay I'm done. KISSES.

"My consciousness has outgrown this vessel"

✧ Pile Two ✧ (4ofS, the tower, the wheel of fortune, the emperor, the lovers, judgment, 7ofW, ace of wands)

Life's gotta always be messing with me (you wanna see the light) Can't they chill and let me be free? (So do I) Can't I take away all this pain? (You wanna see the light) I try to every night, all in vain, in vain

Justice.

➣ I asked for a song to explain the central theme of your reading and I got "Freak on a Leash" by Korn. I get the feel that one of the main struggles of your life path is unfair judgment. People are quick to create a false narrative of you and run off with it.

➣ If you read my last PAC, “What is most alluring about you”, you may have chosen pile 2 or 3. With the seven of wands, you are constantly under attack.

➣ Take what resonates but I see a few scenarios. People may be quick to paint you as a bad person without getting to know you. Your public reputation was heavily influenced by rumors from people who intentionally wanted you to be disliked. People will take something small, blow it out of proportion, and try to impose it as a character flaw. Oh, you don’t eat the crust on your sandwich? How wasteful! There are starving kids out there, you’re so inconsiderate!! and then everyone else in the room who claims to not like you (but are truly your biggest fans) are oooing, ahhing, and egging that hating ass bitch on. 

➣ I’m seeing a bus. You may have been betrayed and thrown under the bus a few times before. This is the pile of my Lilith placements. Your power is your ability to garner attention, both good and bad. You attract a lot of envy. The ugliest emotion, in my opinion. It’s partners in crime with greed. 

➣ For some of you, I am getting the message that all of this underserved hate has sent you into a dark mental space and driven you to take an attempt on your life. And if you like my messages or my readings please believe me when I say this,

 I know you are meant for greatness. I picked up on your energy and you found this reading for a reason. Just like the Universe and everything within it, we go through cycles. And I know this is a long, painful cycle but it will come to an end and you will get out of this darkness. From the bottom of my heart, I feel your importance and I am happy you are here to share this moment with me. Keep swimming, I support you, the Universe supports you. The sun is rising and is offering you a new beginning.

➣ In this dark period in your life, the negative attention may have outweighed the good. I see a theme of being outcasted and isolated. Severe bullying. For some, even abuse. Like pile one, you have gone into hermit mode and isolated yourself from the unfair judgment of the world. 

➣ But head up muffin, the scales are balancing, and the wheel of judgment is turning in your favor. Following the wheel of fortune, you got the fucking emperor!!! You will come out of this on top. The people who kicked you while you were down will have to swallow their pride and kneel to shine your shoes while you sit rightfully on the throne. The public scrutiny you face needs to balance itself out karmically.

➣ Think Megan Thee Stallion. I won’t bring up any of her business, but if you've been keeping up with social media, there is a good chance you are well aware of it. That woman has gone through the unimaginable, one traumatic event following the other all while facing an obscene amount of public scrutiny. She had to go into solitary and off the internet to rebuild her life. But guess what??? MY GIRL STAYS ON TOP>>>>> After all the bullshit she endured, she’s coming out on the top of the charts, brand deals with major conglomerates, she is the people’s princess.

➣ That’s going to be you. You have dealt with a lot of injustice in your life, now you’re coming out of your “rehabilitation” and all of the people who spent the better half of their day attempting to tear you down will have to watch your rise like a phoenix and fucking weep.

➣ People were constantly taking from you , now the universe (whatever you want) is preparing to give you the power to replace what you have lost tenfold. Ace of wands, I see that life is handing you the metaphorical talking stick. The king stick. You are being blessed with a flame in your belly (activated solar plexus chakra) and the chance to completely reinvent yourself. 

➣ There is a lot of king and authority messages here, the ball is in your court. You are being released from the shackles of public perception and these next few months will be filled with inspiration and willpower to prove everybody wrong and showcase your strength.  I feel like a good chunk of this group will get chances to be in positions of authority or importance. 

➣ This is going to sound silly but I got this exaggerated imagery of a mean person calling you poor and ugly but the next year you drive past them in a Bugatti with their sugar boo in the passenger seat. HELLOOOO.

➣ With the lovers, I see you are coming in union with what is rightfully yours. In the grand scheme of cosmic law, you are owed good fortune and it is on its way. With the tower, I see an explosion and people fleeing. You’re going to pop out stronger than ever and that’s going to scare people cause whatever superiority they got from painting you as inferior is going to blow away and their true scummy nature is going to be seen. 

➣ After this, there may even be people who pretend to be your friends and claim they supported you all along. Have faith in your discernment. I have faith in your discernment. It will all be okay pookie.

➣ Advice: Just keep swimmin' my love. <3

"The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth."

✧ Pile Three ✧ (queen of wands, knight of pentacles, 6oC, page of pentacles, 10oW, 3oW, the hermit)

It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Awaken.

➣ Regardless if you’re a woman, a man, somewhere in between, or none of the above, you are approaching a newfound understanding of your sexuality. For some of you, it is a full-blown sexual awakening. 

➣ Some people here are realizing their sex appeal, others are coming to terms with their lack of sexual attraction, some are learning what they like in sex and what they’re attracted to. Yes bae, all of it; the whole spectrum of sexual exploration is here.

➣ There is an emphasis on attraction to yourself. You will see a huge shift in your physical appearance. Yes, your style will change but the main reason for this glow up is because you shifted the perception of yourself into a higher light. You’re allowing yourself to feel desirable and embracing the aspects of yourself you once shunned. 

➣You will carry yourself in a higher regard and this will open doors for you. Look into the mirror and give yourself a nice smack on the ass. Your self-esteem is sexy.

➣ Pile one is on a watery emotional self-love journey, this pile is all about fire and finding out where sexuality and passionate relations fit into your life. 5th house (flings, passions, hobbies), 8th house (sex and rebirth), 9th house (adventure, connecting with your soul tribe).

➣ I asked for a song to tie up this message in a cute little bow and I got the 639 HZ frequency. This is the frequency of love, radiation, and positive energy. It is the frequency of the heart. The heart chakra is opening significantly during this glow-up.

➣ You are opening yourself to adventure and sending a high vibe out into the ether. I see a sunflower and the queen of wands is decked out in bright yellow, you are stepping into the spotlight and attracting a lot of attention. I would say Venusian attention because the aura here is very romantic and collaborative. It's like the universe is spraying you with extremely magnetic pheromones and having opportunities run at you.

➣ You are going to get a lot of offers. Love offers, career offers, party invitations, you’re going to be involved with exclusive circles. You are realizing your self-worth and now you’re attracting things and people who also see value in you.

➣ This isn’t going to resonate with everyone, but I sense that for a few of you, there is going to be a reconnection with a past lover or a past friend from your childhood (or just the past in general). I also sense a theme of using your attractiveness and people’s attraction to you to your benefit. Somehow monetize your appeal. 

➣ It is like you finally released your ugly duckling mentality and you woke up and went, “WOAH, what can I do with this???” Lmao you discovered you’re an undercover member of the pretty privilege club.

➣ Yeah, with the page of pentacles and the ten of wands, I’m seeing an entire life path open up for you. Your passion and fiery energy will get you places, and you’ll go on adventures exploring your opportunities with that. Some of you will even become spicy content creators or do some risque sex work. Orrrrrr just venture into a career path you weren’t courageous enough to do before. 

➣ You’re a giant magnet energetically right now (I mean c’mon, 639 HZ???) you’re attracting a lot of romantic suitors. But watch out, they’re not all good suitors.

➣ I pulled another card and got Justice in reverse. Some people will try to get over on you. Also, the person on the justice card looked strangely untrustworthy when I flipped it over. Once again, practice your discernment.

➣ Your romantic and passionate life is taking off and it's going to be extremely exciting, especially if you are coming out of a period of stagnancy. However, with the 3 of wands and the hermit, the cards remind you to remain centered and plan bigger. Your passion, attractiveness, and sexuality will amount to more than hookups and shallow relationships if you invest in yourself wisely.

➣ You are unlocking an advantage you have in this lifetime. Open yourself to career endeavors, social networking, and creating a strong foundation for your talents and hobbies. Yes, date and have fun but don’t spend all of your energy in one place. Your attention and your energy are your greatest currencies.

➣ To expand on the hermit, I need to emphasize you are going to be getting a LOT of attention soon (I’m getting Sun-conjunct-Venus energy, is that in your natal chart or is there a transit with Venus right now or something?). You will receive more eyes on you than average and this might overwhelm you and push you into hermit mode.

➣ That is okay, let life flow. During those moments to yourself, dream big because you have the power to pull your dreams into your reality.  You will meet lifelong friends during this period. I am sensing a power trio for some of you. 

➣ Advice: To wrap up, we all know attractiveness is social currency, and you are coming into a great deal of social wealth baby. But please spend it wisely and do not lose yourself in the crowd. Keep up with your self-work and take introspective breaks away from people so you can figure out how to best utilize this awakening for you. 

➣ You look really good in red currently. Red hair. Red lips. Red clothes. Red jewelry. The color red is bringing you a lot of abundance. Okay bye. MUAH. <3

"I said mom, I am a rich man."

✧ Pile Four ✧ (page of swords, knight of cups, wheel of fortune, temperance, 7oP, the devil rev.)

Ascension.

➣ OMG I’m so sorry, I wrote a novel for the other piles but this one is going to be short. Maybe you were drawn to another pile mainly and this is your secondary pile. BUT IT’S SHORT BECAUSE ITS FUCKING AWESOME. 

➣ The song I channeled for you was named “Elniño Prodigo” and I want to say the artist is Love Record but I'm not too sure. This means child prodigy. When I was laying out your cards, I got this sense of anticipation and impatience. Theeeennn BOOM the wheel of fortune, temperance, and the seven of pentacles smack me in the face.

➣ Oh me oh my, you are chilling in the universe’s womb just BAKIN’ being prepped for a complete rebirth. You are a prodigy, you are not meant to live an ordinary life, you are being prepared for a unique journey. I know this is going to sound hard to believe because I feel like with this pile, a large portion of your life was spent in waiting.

➣ Do you feel like you are a late bloomer? If so, trust me, it is for a reason. Whatever you build in this lifetime will be built slowly and have a solid foundation because your legacy is meant to withstand the test of time and last long after you leave this Earth. This period you’ve spent waiting is you getting your ducks in a row and sowing your seeds for the next evolution of you. I said something like this in my last pac, if that's you, heyyyyyyy i’m glad your energy stuck around, i love it.

➣ Do you have Pisces or 12th House placements mixed with Saturn significance? Whatever this glow-up exactly holds for your future is a secret. It’s the universe’s divine surprise to you. I did not get any energy detailing exact events, just something big in the works behind the scenes is making its way to you. 

➣If you’re reading this pick a card there’s a good chance you’re spiritually attuned and can feel this cosmic shift happening. Something about your energy is so excited. I imagine a hyper dog being held back by a leash because it's not quite time yet.

➣ If you’re in a period where you’re not seeing any life progression and it's causing you anxiety, relax, you are on the right track and you are where you need to be. You have not wasted time, time really isn’t even fucking real. Everything is moving slowly for a reason. 

➣In this “boring” period you are meant to tap into your inner world and curate what you want your life to look like. Create vision boards, imagine your future hobbies, involve things that mentally stimulate you, keep the spark of curiosity in your life, and nurture your inner dreamer. 

➣ You are connecting with your sensitivity at this time, finding the sweet spot where your mind and heart meet, and letting it fuel your zeal for life. Get these thoughts on paper. Journal them, draw them, sing it, and call this energy into the 3D. Your life is about to have a complete 180. Maintain faith.

➣ You’re seeing a lot of synchronicities currently. Animal synchronicities and repeating numbers(111,444,222,1144,1414). You’ll find strangely personal messages in music and media. Maybe you’re seeing shapes repetitively pop up around you in your environment, like stars or eyes. 

➣ Patience is a life lesson for this pile, there is a lesson to be learned in the stillness of your life. You are mentally restless right now, slow your body down and try out parasympathetic regulation techniques to calm your racing thoughts. Go swimming, take a class, try out a new hobby. In this “womb” era, enjoy your last moments of stillness because your life turns up a notch. I’m not even getting rebirth, I’m getting BIRTH. No matter your age, your life is truly beginning in this new season.

➣ Advice: I see a lot of clouds. I see angel symbolism. You’re ascending. You’re shedding old skin, letting go of dead weight, and you’re growing wings, getting ready to experience life to the fullest. Maintain hope that your life will pick up pace and become exciting again. 

➣ Find peace in this waiting period. Listen to bird sounds!!! They are going to calm your mind and elevate you emotionally. You’re growing your wings and getting ready to take off like a bird, you should learn from the best. Okay, I love you, the universe loves you, MUAH <3.

"Your sim has gone stir-crazy!"

watching tumblr shit on my images in real time is just...

On a lighter note, I know some of these piles are heavy, I posted my first reading two days ago, and the support I received has brought so much joy into my life. I love doing this, if you like this me doing this, I'll do this forever. I am eternally grateful for all of you likes, reblogs, and comments <3

Also, some of these piles are connected, feel free to poke around and pick up on messages spread out for you. okay, I'm done. kisses! MUAH

[zoe-oneesama]

I finished "Kira Kira Pre Cure A La Mode" like a month ago, and I have brain rot that makes a Miraculous Ladybug AU out of anything with an animal theme so here we go. I would label this more as a crossover tbh and even thought of my own rules to make it coexist in the Miraculous Ladybug Universe.

Ko-fi | Patreon

To start, they break a few Miraculous Rules: the Miraculouses themselves have no resemblance to the animal they're imitating, and their powers are closer to their Pre Cure ones, which are baking/cooking based. And the reason I have for this is that these are technically not Miraculouses and technically not kwamis.

They aren't the "Miraculous of [x]" representing a concept, they're actually fairies who desire to be heroes. As such, they're actually at odds with Kwamis and there's a bit of a feud between them - the Kwamis have always worked alongside humans and see the Fairies as reckless and violating nature's laws, while the Fairies see the Kwamis as hording all the fun and not even trying to bridge the gap between them.

I imagine akumas would start showing up in Japan in Ichigozaka, bringing out the six PreCure Miraculouses, and they'd eventually follow them back to Paris to have a showdown with Hawkmoth AND the existing heroes. While the kwamis and fairies are having it out, the humans are meeting in the middle.

Ichika uses Whipp to become Crème Fouettée (Whipped Cream), a Bunny Hero with the ability "Batter Up", which captures the enemy in a giant cake. It has the side effect of being able to extract an akuma, but it can't purify it.

Himari uses Flann to become Swirl Caramel, a Squirrel Hero with modified clacker/rope darts as a weapon and the ability "Cherry Bomb", which is pretty self explanatory.

Aoi uses Aisuu to become Glace Bleue (Blue Ice), a Lion Hero with the ability "Gelato Shake", which encases her fist in a block of ice for even more painful punchs.

Yukari uses Cookie to become Kitty Macaron, a Cat Hero with a spiked yoyo and the ability "Cat Scratch" which inflates the size of the yoyo and increases their strength, making them able to scratch through anything.

Akira uses Chocco to Chien Rouge (Red Dog), a Dog Hero with the ability "Chocolate Armose" which creates a chocolate shield.

Ciel "uses" RinRin to become Blande Volante (Flying Bands), a Pegasus Hero with the ability "Kiracle Rainbow", which fully purifies the enemy and all of the damage caused during a fight. (If you know you know)

[spider-ghoul]

Babysitting <3

Percy Jackson X gn!reader (fluff)

In which: a call from Sally Jackson leads you to help with her youngest, and spend the night with her eldest son. Lingering glances and sleepy confessions only to be forgotten by morning.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to be smaller than Percy once, kissing, none I can think of but as always lmk if there's anything!!

this might be complete shit lmao I finished this at like 3:00 am last night but I wanted to get something out to feed the beasts of this website

~~𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ 𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧~~

At six o'clock on a Friday, normally I'd be rotting in my bed after the week of school. And that was the plan, until Mrs. Jackson mom called.

"Oh- (y/n) I'm so sorry for asking but do you think you could watch Estelle tonight? Me and Paul had a date but Percy was going to the movies with Grover tonight and we-"

"Mrs. Jackson, yeah, it's fine. When do I need to be over?"

"Six is when we're leaving."

"I'll be there at five fifty."

"You're a savior."

This was perfectly fine. Me and Percy were friends and i was the only half-blood who lived around here. I watched Estelle a few times before too. No biggie. Except for the fact I'd been in love with Percy Jackson for...a while.

I mean, he was  kinda my friend. But god, he was Percy Jackson.

At five forty, i headed out. I grabbed my backpack, making sure i had the baby sitting essentials for any four year old: nail polish, beads, and my old rainbow loom (i also spent a extra minute making sure my hair looked okay so that if i saw a certain older brother) I figured that and the t.v. would be more than enough to keep us occupied till her bedtime at eight.

I got there right on time (surprisingly), and Sally greeted me with another thank you. She tried to hand over a few bucks cash, but i pushed her hand away.

She rushed out of the door with Paul after a few more (failed) attempts of paying me, leaving me with an excited two four old. And before too long, she had me watching Bluey (Though i do thoroughly enjoy that show), and making bracelets for us.

She watched as i showed her how to bead the string and make sure the letter beads where on the right way, and then she helped me choose colors.

To start i made one with her name in purple and white. She giggled and slide it on her wrist. I started working on a second one, and she told me to tie hers. It was all blue and had me spell out 'Percy' with beads for her.

"Is this for your brother?" She nodded excitedly, "well, we'll give it to him when he get here, okay?"

I got a solid hour with the beads before she got bored, and by the end both of our wrists had a fair share of bracelets littering them, and a small pile of three bracelets for Percy.

I seriously hope she's awake when he gets here, I can imagine the teasing that would come with handing him bracelets and saying, "oh yeah sorry I'm at your house haha baby sitting- oh me and your sister made you bracelets-". Or i could imagine our hands touching causing me to panic. I could imagine a million things actually.

I think this whole crush is really getting out of hand, especially with me becoming his mom's go to sitter now a days.

Estelle broke me from my thoughts with requests to watch 'Nemo', her favorite. We've watched it every time I've babysat. Part of me wonders if Percy likes it too, I mean with the whole sea god thing. 

As for her request, I made a bag of microwave popcorn and set her down in front of the TV.

I vaguely remember the opening, and Estelle fell asleep next to me before i dozed off myself.

I woke up a bit later, maybe half an hour? The movie wasn't finished, but Estelle was already fast asleep. I took the liberty of scooping her up and placing her in her own bed before going to clean up the main room.

It wasn't bad, just putting away my beads, and getting the popcorn bowl out of the way. I was tired enough, school was rough this week. I just planted myself back on the couch, finding Nemo not quite finished as I did.

I'm not quite sure when i feel back asleep, just that i did.

I'm also not quite sure when Percy Jackson sat down next to me, but he did.

I woke up, curled around a throw pillow, the end credits were playing. I rolled onto my back, and that's when I saw him.

Maybe i was too tired, or maybe he was just smiling, but i didn't feel all that anxious. At least not like i normally do around the son of the sea god.

"Do you always fall asleep to Nemo or is this a special occasion?"

"Do you always watch me sleep or is this a special occasion...?"

He laughed and my heart fluttered.

"Uhm, sorry your mom had me come over to babysit, I didn't know you'd be home yet." I say awkwardly smiley as i sit up, yawning. 

"It's fine, y/n. She texted me, sorry to have you waste a Friday."

"Oh its fine, better than doing nothing. Your sis was an angel, like always." I say, shifting, my shirt bunched up around my waist while I was sleeping. I was also pretty positive my hair was a mess. 

"Oh and speaking of my mom- before i forget." He pulled out a twenty, "now I figure you aren't gonna want to take it, but it's sally's orders."

"I'd feel bad, its just a favor. Your mom is always so nice, she patched me up after a monster attack once, this is just me repaying her."

"She did? When?" His eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes filled with concern.

And i felt my face getting hot again.

"A few weeks ago, your house was closer than mine, it's fine." I mutter, looking down. 

He sighed, "what happened?" he said, reaching out to put his hand over mine. I short wire for a moment, looking back up at him. 

"Just something on my way home from school, it wasn't bad."

After a brief moment of silence, i wanted to crawl out of my skin.

He sighed, "as long as you're fine." he lifted his hand off of mine, though I could still feel his warmth. 

I smiled weakly, "oh uh..what time is it?" 

"Uh.. ten-ish?"

"I should be getting home." I say, sighing turning away from him. 

"It's pretty late, I wouldn't want you to walk back alone."

"It's not far-"

"I'm sure my mom would say the same thing, you know."

I sighed, knowing he was right, "i don't want to intrude." 

"Neither me or Sally would care."

"...."

"...can i bribe you to stay with waffles?"

"...yeah you can." I sigh, any of Sally's food was enough to make me do just about anything. 

Percy smiled, making my heart melt.

"Great, it'll be like a sleepover. Do you need to borrow a shirt or something?"

"Yeah, that uhm- that would be great." I mutter, pushing myself up off the couch. My neck was sore, who would have guessed that a throw pillow wasn't great for sleeping? I stretch my arms out over my head, yawning again. 

"tired?" He chuckles, raising his eyebrow. 

"well you did just wake me up-" I resort, rolling my eyes. I always forget how nice Percy is. I always worry about stupid things, but when I'm with him none of it really matters.

"You woke up on your own- I was simply..." He trails off, and I laugh:

"Watching me sleep?" 

"What can I say? You looked so.. pretty." He look down at me, and I could swear my heart stops, but I don't look away.

"...Yeah, whatever." I mummer quietly,  staring into his eyes and blinking a few times before finally breaking eye contact.

After a short moment, He mumbles something about getting me to bed. I nod quickly, following him to his room, which is surprisingly clean. He digs though his dresser drawers for a moment, pulling out some old band tee, and blue plaid pants. He hands them to me. 

"Is this fine for you? might be a big big, just let me know-" 

"it's fine. No worries." I say quickly, taking them, making sure to avoid his hands. "Thanks." 

He smiles again, and I leave for the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. 'pretty'? it's nothing, Percy is just nice like that. 

I change into his clothes, the smell of ocean engulfing me as the soft fabric hangs from my body.  I can't help but to push my head into my shoulder. It smells like him. 

I ball up my jeans and tee shirt, shoving them into my backpack. I slipped out the bathroom once I calmed myself down enough to talk to him again. 

I walk up to Percy's door, "Hey, I'm gonna go lay down do you have a blanket or something I can use..?" 

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me from where he was laying on his bed, "You don't seriously think I'm making you sleep on the couch-?" 

"Well I kinda assumed..?" 

"Get over here you dork." He said, scooting over on his bed, "Plenty of room- you don't mind, do you?" 

Part of me lit on fire, and part of me was desperate to put it out. My ears got hot, but I managed to nod.

"No, I don't mind.." 

I place my bag on the floor by the door, walking up and sitting on his bed, sliding my legs under the covers and sliding down to lay next to him. I was stiff, worried to so much as touch him. But eventually, I relaxed, turning to lay on my side, facing him. 

I looked at him through half-lidded eyes, my body already starting to sink into his bed, ready to get a proper night's sleep. My eyelids slowly drifted shut. 

I was woken when Percy broke the silence. 

"Y/N?" Percy whispered, almost silent. 

"Mhm..?" I mumbled back, not bothering to open my eyes. 

"I really like you, you know that?" 

If I wasn't half asleep, maybe I would have said something different. If I had the energy maybe I would have been flustered. 

"... I really like you too." 

I only heard him chuckle before he placed a hand on my hip. 

"Get some sleep, yeah? I'll confess my undying love when you'll properly Remember it." 

I must have frowned, because he laughed lightly and pulled me a little closer. 

It didn't matter though. I slipped back to sleep, and when I woke up I didn't  remember. 

I remembered waking up some point in the night, but I didn't know what was said. 

And in the morning, I got the promised waffles and left the Jackson's apartment. 

The ever chivalrous Percy Jackson (who I woke up cuddling with), offered to walk me home. 

We took the long way, and when we reached my door step, he pressed his lips to mine and told me he couldn't wait for me to babysit again, though he wouldn't mind me coming around before then. 

He left me breathless and giddy, and so so happy to have accepted Sally's offer.

[vrystalius]

How would the Hashira + Upper moons react to their S/O reader kissing them during an argument (it's up to you what the argument is about but i was thinking maybe they were jealous bc she was way too nice to someone else) Like i can imagine them being angry and when they confront her she just kisses them and says a small "Sorry" they can't help but forgive her right?

The Upper Moons getting kissed during a fight

You kiss the Upper Moons during a fight. How will they react?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x reader

Note: Sorry for doing it a little differently, I only realised just now that I kind of misunderstood the ask. I’m planning on doing a version for the hashira as well where I will write it more accurately!

(Slight angst, arguments)

Kokushibo

Your arguments are more like debates and discussions rather than screaming. Somehow, Kokushibo demolishes you everytime. He delivers one argument after another, every single word was planned out to make you feel like you’re in the wrong everytime. You’re kind of starting to get sick of feeling stupid by him using terms you’ve never heard of. He has an unfair advantage of being alive for hundreds of years and having six piercing eyes that make you doubt your own ability to think.

This time, you’re prepared. You pulled Kokushibo in by his yukata. Your lips crashed onto his and all of his eyes widened. His jaw locked as you caressed his collarbone while his lips loved against yours for a moment. After pulling away, he became quiet for a moment, as if thinking, before speaking up.

“You use very dirty tricks. I will use them myself in the future.”

Douma

Douma is incredibly pouty and bored during your arguments. He mostly listens while you talk, only trying to tease you into becoming even angrier every now and then. After you went on and on for minutes on why he should stop having his meals inside your bedrooms, he again grew bored. At first, Douma just checked out his nails and picked on some loose skin while listening. After you went from complaining about eating his bloody meals in the bedroom over to how you don’t wanna sit on his lap during his sermons anymore, he began to zone out. Your lips look so soft while you talk. His rainbow eyes were locked with them, dreaming of pulling you close and just shutting you up with a kiss. Yes, that’s a good idea.

While you rambled on and on, Douma grabbed you by your arm and crashed his lips onto yours. He hungrily nibbled on your lower lip while giggling quietly.

“Did I distract you? My apologies, go on! I’m listening, I swear!… What’s with that look, huh?”

Akaza

He gets nervous when you two have an argument. Akaza tries his best not to get too angry and to lash out at you. He doesn’t want to scare you, or even worse, to hurt you in any way. But sometimes, you make it really hard for him to keep his cool. To him, your irritated face and words are the equivalent of the sun hitting his skin. His fists are clenching while he tries to listen properly, but he can’t concentrate. Akaza is trying not to threaten or yell back at you to be able to listsn to your talking properly.

You noticed how hard your boyfriend was trying not to be aggressive towards you and how hard Akaza was concentrating. You sighed and crossed your arms across your chest, watching how his lower lip was quivering. You can’t help but grow softer at the sight. Your hands cupped his cold cheeks as you pulled him closer, placing a kiss on his lips to reassure him that you still love him. You saw how quickly Akaza’s face softened up after your kiss. He let out a soft sigh and placed your hands into his palm.

“Sorry for being like this all the time. I’ll… try to be better. Can I have another kiss though?”

💠

I think Muzan would just continue to ramble on after kissing him, probably even taking offence that you have the audacity to interrupt him during his speech. Also, I really wanna write about cuddles and sleep lately, but I’ll try to restrain myself XD

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 16🏡

It's getting more and more difficult to set aside the time to write these, but I'm hanging on! To everyone who's shown support along the way, be it with reblogs, comments, likes or anything else, thank you so so much 😊 You have no idea how much you're helping 💕

Today is about Smoke and Sledge accomplishing a vital mission, enjoy! (Rating T, pure and utter chaos, ~2.2k words)

.

Smoke eyes the large, ominous building with a vague sense of dread. They’re out in the middle of nowhere, the nearest soul several miles away (so at least they won’t have to worry about causing too much noise). The windows are dark, the façade old and dirty, the path leading up to the house largely overgrown. Next to him, Sledge shifts his weight uneasily, probably experiencing the same foreboding feeling as his colleague. They’ve been on enough missions together to assess these things in sync.

“Alright”, he tries out his voice and doesn’t like how it sounds. “Give me the brief again.”

Sledge nods without taking his eyes off the stately home. “We’re looking for a standard passport. There are three possible locations: the bedside table on the second floor, a large trunk in the basement and a cabinet in the living room. We are to disturb as little as possible – ideally, nobody would be able to tell we’ve been here.”

They both take a deep breath. “… and?”

“And… there might be precautions in place. Of what nature, we’re not sure, but we should keep our eyes peeled.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

After an exchange of nods, Smoke sets foot on the small bit of stairs leading up to the main entrance, and instantly his eardrums explode. Or at least that’s what it feels like, the air is suddenly filled with the loudest shrieking he’s ever had to witness, rendering him incapable of anything other than pressing his palms to his ears and screaming in perfect tune with the noise.

Next to him, Sledge is doing much of the same, mouthing something at him he doesn’t understand, him yelling something back and earning nothing but a confused frown, and together they shuffle around the house on the lookout for something, anything to stop this torture. Eventually, after they’ve already cut two other wires running along the outside walls, they’re once again blessed with silence. Though to be fair, it doesn’t seem like it with how his ears are still ringing.

“Bloody hell”, Sledge pants, looking just as shocked as Smoke feels right now. “Who the fuck has an alarm for their stairs?”

“Well, we both know the answer to that. I just hope we didn’t cut anything important, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. After you.”

The Scotsman doesn’t seem to appreciate Smoke’s reluctance to lead, but he courageously climbs the stairs to the front door anyway. So far, so good. From as far away as he can, Smoke hands him the keys with outstretched fingers and considers diving into cover, yet deems it too dramatic. For now. Sledge carefully turns the main key in the lock, slowly puts his hand on the handle and slams the door in his face full force.

Smoke badly suppresses a snort.

“Who the fuck spring loads their fucking front door?!”, Sledge complains in disbelief, rubbing his forehead.

“Someone demented. Let me check if the coast is clear.” Smoke slips past him, entering the main hallway and expecting the worst. Both of them wait several seconds, uneasy, until they decide they’re good. “I don’t even know whether I’m supposed to be on the lookout for anything. You know, like some kind of trigger or pressure plate or shite like that. Maybe he only booby trapped the outside and we’re fine now. What’s the first location?”

“Living room cabinet. Should be over there.”

Smoke starts walking to where his companion pointed, cautiously followed by the very same, and though they keep scanning the floor and walls for anything suspicious-looking, Smoke runs head first into some wire installed at eye level. Before he can scream, they’re once again surrounded by noise – this time, however, there’s something satisfying to it, almost rain-like in its pitter-pattering as innumerable glass spheres are poured onto the ground, surrounding them.

“Marbles”, Sledge summarises succinctly and Smoke almost applauds him for the observation. “That’s fine as long as we don’t move. Don’t try to step on them, we should stay -” He’s silenced by a water balloon hitting the back of his bald head, failing to explode and falling to the floor impotently.

“I don’t understand how anyone can set something like this up”, Smoke remarks right before another bursts by his feet, spattering his legs with a black, viscous liquid. Its stench nearly makes him gag and all of a sudden, they’re filled with panic once more.

“Move, move”, Sledge urges him on, “skate over the floor so you don’t -” And the large Scotsman crashes to the ground before even finishing his sentence, having stepped on marbles that rolled away immediately. With him on them.

Smoke barely dodges the next balloon aimed at him, dragging his feet in an attempt to outwit the marble sea, and secretly thanks Ash for her relentless exercises in evasion. Behind him, he hears Sledge sputter and retch as he’s hit again but it’s every man for himself now, Smoke has almost reached his sanctuary, the door leading to their first potential target, he stretches out his hand, moves to open the door and -

- and smacks himself in the face with it. Hard.

“Fucking bellend”, he curses through the pain, leaking more and more marbles into the new room and gets nailed by a paint-filled balloon to his back. At least, he thinks it’s paint.

… he hopes it’s paint.

It takes Sledge a few more seconds to come crawling in as well, looking like he went diving in a bog and panting hard, gratefully accepting the pack of tissues Smoke hands him. Right as he’s about to open it, he asks: “Did you have this on you?”

“Yeah, I -”

“Ow! Mother -”

“Uh, I meant to say, it got stuck to me when I stumbled in. Sorry.”

“He fucking booby trapped the fucking tissues!” Sledge pours out the thumbtacks hidden in the plastic packaging before inspecting each tissue individually. Once he’s mostly cleaned himself up, they regroup by patting each other on the back and improvising a small pep talk. They both needed it.

“I think that’s the cabinet there.” Smoke points at the object in question, a heavy-looking mahogany thing placed innocently next to a fireplace. “Want me to open it?”

“You have no idea how much I was hoping you’d say that.”

Smoke walks over, his colleague again following at a distance, and once he’s close, the fireplace predictably coughs out a large cloud of soot they both manage to avoid. Apart from breathing a lot of it in, of course. “We’re getting wise to these tricks now”, Smoke half-grins, half-croaks, reaches out and breaks the glass door with his forehead.

As he stands there, alternating between cursing and whimpering, Sledge drily mutters: “We should not open another door in this bloody house.” Heavy boots crunch over to where Smoke is brushing shards of glass off his clothes and they both begin rifling through the contents, making sure to lift everything and check for secret compartments.

“Looks like the only false bottom here is me”, Smoke announces, earning himself an entirely unamused glare from his companion that seems to say you wish. “So, downstairs or upstairs?”

“I’m more scared of this basement than usual. Let’s go up.” Sledge leads the way, both of them still trying to cough out the burnt ashes that are currently lining their lungs. It seems the balloon barrage has ceased and with the marbles populating the living room as well now, there’s enough space for them to tiptoe across the room without falling again. When they reach the foot of the stairs, they pause.

Look at each other.

A second later, Sledge holds out a flat hand just as Smoke offers a fist.

“Fuck”, Smoke grumbles and begins climbing the stairs in slow motion. He tests every single step before putting his weight on it, half expecting them to snap into a smooth surface so he slides all the way back down, and the next thing he knows is that he falls up the stairs – he’s able to catch himself before his poor maltreated face meets old wood, but his foot won’t lift off the stair regardless. He lets out a deep sigh. “Please tell me my boot isn’t superglued to these bloody stairs.”

“I can with a very clean conscience inform you that your boot is indeed not superglued to the stairs.” Sledge sounds sincere enough Smoke gets his hopes up until the added: “They do, however, look like they’re melting into them.”

“Holy mother Mary of god”, Smoke hisses as he unlaces his shoe in record time, slipping his foot out of it as fast as possible, only to realise that the step to which he jumped in order to escape melting himself is about as slippery as the bastard who set this all up. What follows then must probably look hilarious to Sledge who isn’t caught in a dance between life or death, with Smoke flailing all over the place, at one point probably lifting his foot higher than his head, almost falling about a hundred times as he slips and slides with an added soundtrack of similarly wobbly noises and indeed, when a strong hand grips his arm to finally put an end to his performance, it’s shaking with silent laughter. Just like the large man it belongs to.

Smoke really wants to strangle someone now, and he’s not sure it even needs to be anybody specific.

“I have an idea”, he discloses as they halt in front of the bedroom door. “Watch this.” Not fancying getting hit in the face again, he leans against the door with all his weight, pushing as hard as he can, and then presses on the handle, thinking himself a genius.

It’s a good thing Sledge’s reflexes are as trained as they are so the Scotsman manages to grab him before he flings himself full speed into the bed of nails placed strategically behind the door. The door that swings inwards.

“Fucking hell”, Sledge comments and Smoke can only agree.

They isolate the bedside table, the second possible location, with extreme prejudice, identifying a small explosive that would’ve gone off by opening it without care and disarming it while IQ coaches them on the phone, and eventually nod at each other. Sledge is brave enough to pull it open and reach in, only to yank his hand back with a yelp.

“What?”, Smoke wants to know, worried. “What happened?”

Sledge looks like he’s going to cry any second. “Paper cut”, he grits out before whining pitifully. And indeed, there’s already some blood visible on his fingers.

“Come on, that’s not so bad. Let’s just hope that we’ve… found …” Smoke trails off as more and more blood appears, pooling at the edge of Sledge’s hand, his wrist, disappearing into his sleeve.

“If it’s not in here”, Sledge hisses, waving his hand in an attempt to distract from the pain that must be immense, “I’m throwing myself out the window.”

Wordlessly, Smoke pulls the drawer out and upturns it. Nothing but a few loose sheets of paper. “Sorry, mate”, he mutters.

At least Sledge seems to forget his agony for a moment when Smoke slams the door in his own face as they exit the bedroom.

.

~*~

.

With a final-sounding smack, Smoke slaps the open passport onto the hood of Sledge’s car. Both of them stand there in companionable silence, flipping the badly-taken photograph inside the bird with such sincerity it makes him proud, continuing even as he waits for Harry to pick up the phone.

When he does, all Smoke forces out is a quiet: “We got it.”

A brief pause. “Great. I, um, trust there were no complications? He did say you might run into a few of his security features, but -”

“You need the number, right?” No time for chit-chat. Smoke just wants to walks the few miles down to the river so he can wash off the worst of the mix of paint, rancid butter and bird poo covering him head to toe, because Sledge is not driving him home like this. He reads out the passport number while Harry asks no further questions, ready to hang up without notice until something occurs to him. “You never told us: what even happened?”

“Well… Mike got himself arrested in Laos – don’t ask me how, don’t ask me why. I don’t know how he got there without his passport, but they won’t let him go until they have it so he can prove his identity. So in addition, you’ll have to mail it to him, I’ll send you the address in a moment. Thanks for getting it from his holiday home, in any case.”

“Sure”, Smoke says and means fuck off. After he’s hung up, he fills Sledge in and the two of them look at each other.

“How long will priority mail take? Two days with the express option, right?”

Smoke purses his lips. “I guess.” A pause. “But I mean… it’s pretty expensive.”

Sledge nods gravely. “And it’s not really a pressing matter, right?”

“He won’t mind waiting a few more days, I’m sure.”

Another, final nod. “Alright then. Snail mail it is.”

One last bird in the direction of Thatcher’s face and the two of them start walking towards the nearest source of water that isn’t located in a madman’s house.

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

things aren't the way you planned coming home with your newborn, but you have eddie there to lean on when things get hard (and an unlimited supply of 'munson-style' hugs). requested here. infatuated dad!eddie x mom!reader, 3k.

cw post partum recovery, reader is suffering from some symptoms of post partum depression

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"You're sure you can manage?" Wayne asks, his voice buzzing down the line.

Eddie peers out of the kitchen into the living room quietly. You're sitting on the sofa in a shape that can't be comfortable considering your recent stitches, the baby on your thighs where you've brought them together, your hands delicately posed on either side of his head. 

"I think so," Eddie says, answering Wayne's questions with honesty. "She's feeling a little better today." 

"It's hard, Eds. You take care of her and call me if you need help, okay? I'm proud of you. Both of you." 

It catches Eddie off guard for a moment. He's done enough crying lately, clearing his throat to say, "Thanks, Wayne. Call me tomorrow." 

"You call me, I don't wanna wake anyone if you're sleeping." 

They say their goodbyes. Eddie leans against the kitchen doorway to spy on you and the baby. Babies cry more than he ever could've imagined despite the warnings, but it's quiet, too. There are moments of peacefulness like this one breaking apart the chaos. 

You're whispering something. Eddie stands very still, wishing the dishwasher would magically silence itself. He strains to hear you. 

"I love you," you say. "Sorry I'm tired, honey. I promise I'll be better. You're so beautiful." 

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower. 

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks. 

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it. 

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously. 

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me." 

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh. 

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently. 

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep. 

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly. 

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne." 

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General. 

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants. 

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?" 

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg. 

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened. 

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly." 

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek. 

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?" 

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up." 

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise. 

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers? 

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan. 

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.  

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say. 

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again. 

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying. 

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say. 

"He sounds like you." 

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle. 

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists. 

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of. 

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry." 

"You think so?" you ask. 

"I think the solution is the same, too." 

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry." 

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean. 

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question). 

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in. 

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms? 

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more. 

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably. 

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm. 

You hesitate. "Are you okay?" 

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?" 

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts. 

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately. 

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever." 

"What do you think?" you ask softly. 

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious. 

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days." 

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?" 

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?" 

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast." 

"I can wait." 

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?" 

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again." 

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me." 

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork. 

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air. 

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it. 

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough. 

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird." 

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it." 

"It's a mess?" you ask. 

"It's perfect." 

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat. 

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully. 

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing. 

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips. 

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly. 

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me." 

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more. 

"He's… I'm just not…" 

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth." 

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble. 

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–" 

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face. 

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind." 

"But he is perfect," you say. 

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–" 

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion." 

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek. 

"My dork," you murmur. 

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey." 

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility." 

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss. 

"I love you," you say. 

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too." 

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you for reading!