#stealing harvard

[esichime]

New post over on my Medium:

[ectonurites]

vibe of the day:

(Robin (1993) #79)

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Bunny: Maybe we can use slingshots to rob the carrot patch. Claude: A slingshot is not a real weapon, Bunny. Bunny: Oh, yeah? Well maybe you'd like to define the word "weapon' for me while this plastic doll smashes into your temple at 180 miles per hour.

[speakingofnarwhals]

tragic that i have been graduated from college for almost a decade but that wasn't enough for a certain parental unit so he's now emailing me about how i should definitely go to Harvard for ai???

[budbuddnbuddy]

Little obey me headcanons (pt 5)

A/n: God it’s been a while since I put out one of these things. Apologies yall, finals are terrifying but thankfully I passed all my classes, so yay! Anyways same thing as usual, though this one is mostly world building, so enjoy!

MC has an entire kitchen in their room. Bit weird to think of yes, but I just saw the dinning table in their room and the stuff behind it and it was the first thing that came to mind, the whole room is basically like an apartment but it’s no where near as big as the other brothers rooms. Also did you know that they had an entire kettle in their room???

Okay maybes it’s not a kettle more like a tea pot but you get the point, MC kitchen in room canon./hj

Mammon is infact not above stealing your stuff, has he sold any of it? No. Will you ever be getting it back? Also no. It’s been 4 years Mammon, MC wants their hoodie back.

RAD is basically the Harvard of the Devildom, of course there are other Ivy League schools throughout the realm, all ranked high in various categories and filled with various species, but if you really want to be a high ranking deadly demon then going to RAD is practically an requirement.

If you ever watched Steven Universe, you’d know that Garnet can give kisses that let you see into the future for a brief period of time. Barbatos can basically do the same thing, and can choose the amount of time that it lasts for, ranging from 3 hours to 4 days.

However it’s been MILLIONS upon MILLIONS of years since he’s done this and he’s never told anyone about it besides Diavolo, well until you of course. Just keep it a secret between the 3 of you all, will you?

Demon possession is in fact real, it’s sort of like a fucked up version of fusion, all the abilities and talents that you have can be accessed by your possessor, the strength that the two of you have is combined since like 93% of humans have no magic and it’s deadly wether you’re a human or a demon them punches are going to hit hard. Sloth demons are mainly the ones who have this ability.

If you ever get so lucky to the point where you get to me any of the Royals you MUST kiss their hand, it’s considered extremely rude and informal not to do so, doesn’t matter if it’s a woman, man, or a being with no hands at all and just a bunch of tentacles. You better find a way to kiss that damn hand. MC finds out about this by pure accident.

“Ah- Lord Diavolo, I’m sorry I didn’t even realize you were there.”

“Haha, no worries! It’s not common for most to not recognize me when I’m in the room!”

“Here, allow me to make it up to you…” *Smooch*

“…”

Typically Diavolo is very neutral when it comes to formal greetings since he technically gets them like every week but there was something about it being you giving him kisses on his hand that make him feel “butterflies in his stomach” as humans say.

Ever since then he’s demanded that you give him hand kisses every time you swag by the the Demon King’s castle, with a blush on his face of course.

There’s a three headed version of almost everything in the Devildom, it’s not just Cerberus, there’s three headed butterflies, cats, raccoons, rats (much to Barbatos dismay), and of course demons. No one knows exactly why, but most speculate it probably has something to do with the air.

No one is letting you die, there’s too many things that they want from you, too many things they want to give you, yet so little time to do so. You can scream at them, hate them forever, never talk to them again, but please for the love of god. Just don’t die.

[seattlesellie]

i need bbf!ellie pretending not to be turned on in front of your brother when you come downstairs after waking up without a bra on, all you have on is a short tank top and tiny shorts.

<3

mean slightly loserish bbf!ellie <3

she dips another piece of semi-stale baguette into her perfecfly runny eggs, and shoves it in her mouth. she chews, and then—

stupidly tight tank top, stupidly short shorts (an offensive piece of fabric, really), a stupidly cute smile and a stupidly adorable “g’morning guys!”

oh, fuck you.

she chokes.

“ayo, you good?” your brother chuckles, and pats her lightly on the back.

“yeah, m’fine man” she huffs, and when you turn around to open the fridge, oh great— your ass is poking through, and suddenly she lost her appetite and all she really wants to do is take a fucking ice shower.

you turn to face them, and as your brother steals a raspberry from her plate, you roll your eyes. “you guys can say good morning back, so fucking rude sometimes”

“morning…” he lazily hums, throwing the raspberry directly in his mouth.

you look at ellie, where’s your very deserved good freaking morning?

oh, she wasn’t paying attention, her eyes glued to the wall behind you. if she looks— oh hell no.

she shifts her eyes towards your form, and apparently— your tits greet her before your eyes do. she quickly looks up at your soft expression, and she feels like a goddamn 13 year old ellie again. a crimson blush creeps up on her cheeks, and… is it hot in here? she feels hot. like she’s burning up, like she just swallowed a rock.

“ellie?” you tilt your head to the side, waiting for that damn greeting.

“huh?”

“good morning?”

“yeah”

she takes the glass of water in her hand and she chugs it. when you slightly lift your hands up— to sip on your coffee, your shirt rides up and she notices that a tiny fragment of your thong pokes through from the sides of your pajama shorts. she nearly goddamn choked again. truly, from the bottom of her heart, fuck you.

“soccer outside?” your brother asks, oh so blissfully unaware of whatever the hell is going on.

“yeah, give me a minute… gotta finish it up”

he raises a curious brow, “but you ate all of it”

“yeah well, gotta dip the bread so,” she stammers. you roll your eyes and she sees. roll them one more time and she’ll—

“k, i’m outside”

he walks away, budging your shoulder. “ow!”

“eat shit”

“asshole”

ellie’s not speaking, like— at all. she’s barely breathing if she’s being honest. she should be bothering you by now, complaining about how gross you are for drinking that coffee, in her words; shit-water, telling you that you have a tiny spot on your nose that you have to wipe off and then bump your palm into it or some other stupid stunt. except, she doesn’t.

why is she still here? why doesn’t she just go?

it’s awfully silent and her breath hitches down her throat when you lean on the counter with your elbows, and she swears she just almost got a peak. she averts her look again, and clenches her jaw.

“how do you tolerate him?” you question. again, no comment. is she sick? coming down with the summer flu or something?

“or…” you’re pushing it, you know you are.

“how does he tolerate you?” you smile like you just won an NBA trophy. she plays with her fork and stares you down.

“actually how do both of you tolerate each other? this has to be like… a harvard experiment or something”

its her turn to smirk now, and tilt her head to the side. you shudder, for some reason. she still doesn’t respond.

“are you sick?” she must be, where’s the snarky comment?

the only sound that fills the room is the sound of the refrigerator running and the fork that she uses to trace small lines on the ceramic plate with.

she gets up, still not breaking eye contact. your nipples poke through the shirt, and it’s killing her. come up with something, quick.

“are you cold?” she huffs, raspy and deep.

“what?” you respond quietly, small.

“just askin’ because…”

she points at your nipples, moving her finger side to side.

“because it looks like you’re cold”

your whole body stiffens up and it feels like you’re gonna die. worse. it feels like you’re burning up in front of her. you’re standing there, like a mummy.

she walks off, chuckles under her breath, and then she turns around. she doesn’t say anything, but oh god did she want to.

oh, there she is.

[inkdrinkerworld]

night shift

pairing: stepdad!hotch x fem!reader

wc: 1.6k

cw: smut, p in v penetration, oral [fem!receivng], missionary, soft sex, daddy kink, overstimulation, creampie, fluffy ending, mdni, 18+ ONLY

Aaron sighs as he steps into the house, grateful for the darkness and the quiet. 

It had been a couple hours since he’d had that unmistakable quiet that came with the hour he’d gotten in- but he loved it. 

He needed it to think and get his work out of his mind. 

He also needed to get his new wife off his mind. 

They’d been having little tiffs that had been grating on him, and though she knew he’d be back today she had opted instead for a girl’s trip to some random state. 

Aaron couldn’t really care less about that though.

You were home and that made being home, even at the hour that much sweeter. 

He should stay out of your room, should wait till the morning to spend the day making up for lost time, but he’s really missed your sweet toffee and vanilla scent and your warm arms. 

After the fastest shower known to man, he pushes at your bedroom door, finding the tv on and the light illuminating your sleeping figure on the bed. 

You’ve got what he thinks is ‘Dead Poets Society’ on and it’s still about twenty minutes in. 

That doesn’t steal his attention though. As usual, you do. 

Your hair is all splayed out on your pillows, your floral patterned duvet covering the lower half of your body, but from the exposed portion, Aaron makes out his old Harvard hoodie and smiles. 

“Precious girl,” he murmurs, shutting your door behind him and taking off the tv before slipping in beside you. 

You turn and groan as your body comes into contact with his- warm and soft with hard and cool. 

He hears your breathing pick up and your eyes blink open tiredly. 

“S’just me sweetheart,” he coos, stroking the back of your neck to lull you back to sleep. 

It doesn’t exactly work, you get your bearings and your eyes peel open and the smile that takes over your face has Aaron heating up. 

“You’re home,” the smile makes it into your voice and Aaron can’t help but feel love explode all through his chest. 

“Yeah baby,” he kisses your forehead just as you hook your knee to his narrow hip.

It’s then, as you press further into Aaron that he feels the bare touch of your thighs and his hands follow the natural curve of your skin and groans when he touches your bare cunt. 

“Were you expecting action tonight, princess?” he tilts your chin upwards so you can’t hide your sleepy eyes or your faux coy smile. 

“Maybe,” Aaron feels the need rumble deep in his chest and shakes his head when you lean up to pepper kisses to his stubble. 

“Fucking vixen.” he curses, claiming your lips. 

Aaron kisses resemble him in every way. It commands you, and consumes you. It’s tentative at first and then his tongue prods into your mouth and licks at your own and it’s like he steals your warmth. His lips suck yours into his mouth, swallowing your moan as he pulls your hips into his. 

“Aaron,” you whine, his lips leaving yours to suck at the exposed column of your neck.

He only hums, nipping and biting at the tender skin on your neck. He pulls away and assesses the bruises, and when he’s satisfied he moves onto another plot of your skin. 

“Aaron please,” your hips are rocking on their own now, and he sits up, pulling you with him as he changes positions and lays you flat on your back. 

“Please what?” you really shouldn’t have started with begging. Aaron likes it far more than you do, and he likes making you do it. 

Your answer is interrupted with him thrusting his clothed hips into yours, a moan ripping past your lips as he ensures that he brushes your wet cunt with his growing bulge. 

“Please don’t tease,” he kisses you again, and this time it’s all wet. Tongue and teeth clashing before he pulls away and moves southard. 

“God baby,” he coos, fingers spreading your cunt open so that he sees even more of your slick gushing out. “You’ve been needing me haven’t you?”

It’s mind numbing the way he uses words to make your mind melt and shut off. He just says a couple nasty facts and your brain short circuits with zero intention of trying to work after that. 

The worst part, other than your brain working against you, is that Aaron knows exactly what he does when he uses crass words like that, and he maintains the use of them just to rile you up even more. 

His thumb brushes at your weeping hole, a smirk pulling on his lips as your hips buck into his light touch. 

“I asked you a question, princess.” 

Aaron should at least give you a fighting chance to respond, but he doesn’t. His mouth is sucking at your clit almost immediately after he speaks, and your whines are breathy and high as your hands reach for his hair. 

A broken, “Yes,” manages to escape you and after that, it’s the only coherent thing to leave your mouth. 

Aaron’s fingers slip into your cunt, and he groans at how tight you feel, the vibrations messing with your mind as they cause more pleasure to flow through you. 

You don’t see it entirely, but Aaron’s free hand reaches for his cock, stroking it over and over again, tugging at it in time with his fingers thrusting in your cunt. 

“God,” you cry, hips moving to meet the thrusts of Aaron’s fingers, growing closer and closer to your orgasm. “I’m gonna come, please Aaron.” 

He only hums, eyes meeting yours as your hands knot into his hair, holding his head still as you ride his tongue and fingers to your release. 

“Att fucking girl,” he praises, watching as you continue to ride his fingers till your orgasm fizzles out. He doesn’t pull his fingers from you though. No Aaron crooks them so they brush against your g-spot over and over again till your thigh jumps and he feels the tell-tale signs of another orgasm. 

“Gimme another one, princess. Let me see you come again.” your mouth drops open as he rolls your clit and a silent scream takes a hold of you as your second orgasm washes over you. 

You can’t fight his touch as Aaron drags you to the very end of your orgasm and pats your cunt as he pulls his fingers out of you. 

“Want your cock, daddy.” your eyes are glazed over already, and Aaron has to physically restrain himself from just slamming into you. 

“Yeah? How bad do you need it?” He likes playing this game with you, you tend to lose patience much quicker than he does, and there’s something about the way you spread your legs and offer your pussy over to him that makes his head swim with lust. 

“So so bad. S’all I’ve been thinking about since you left.” he wouldn’t even doubt your statement because you’re all he’s thought about too. 

Still, he holds out on you, intent on just staring at your spread legs and bared cunt for him. 

“Please daddy, need your cock in me. You always fuck me so good.”

He can’t resist you anymore, and slides in, both of you groaning as he bottoms out. 

Your breath is short and sharp as he fucks into you, hands fisting the sheets as your hips match his thrusts. All you can think about is Aaron and the way the head of his cock is pressing at just the right spot that has your toes curling with each thrust.

“Feels good baby? Your pretty cunt is squeezing around me so fucking hard.”

Your brain is a mess of his praise. “So good, you’re always so good.” 

Tears pool on your lash line as his thumb finds your clit again, ready to pull a third orgasm from you. 

Your hands grip at his shoulders, pulling him to hover over your body and in doing so, forcing him deeper into you. 

“Oh fuck,” you croon and Aaron pulls back to slap at your clit. 

“Watch your tongue, princess.” you can only nod, your body thrumming with pleasure as his thrusts get mean and fast. 

“You’re gonna make me come again.” you mewl, eyes full of tears as you feel your lower belly burn with need. 

“Yeah? Y’gonna make a mess on my cock?” your nails dig into Aaron’s shoulders at his teasing, tears falling down your face as his thumb resumes rolling your clit. 

“Please, please,” it’s the only word you know, and Aaron thinks you’re the most gorgeous woman in the world as you beg him, so he leans forward pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Soak my cock, princess.” the order has your back arched off the bed completely as you obey it, legs trembling from the force of your orgasm. 

Aaron manages to hold off his own till the very last second, holding the back of your neck to keep your slick bodies pressed together as he fills you up. 

“No, stay,” you murmur when he moves to pull out and Aaron smiles, smoothing your hair out of your face and dragging his hand down your arm. 

“You don’t want something to drink?” he asks, eyes glued to yours. 

“No,” you lie, and Aaron can tell, but before he can call you out on it, you say, “I wanna sleep with you in me, please.”

You and your eyes will be the death of him, Aaron knows it very well. “Okay baby,” he kisses your cheek and lays with you on top of him, sighing when your walls clench around him. “Wake me up if you need anything.”

You nod, lips finding his in a quick kiss before falling asleep on his chest.

tags: @montyfandomlove

[esichime]

My ★★★ review of Stealing Harvard (2002) on Letterboxd:

[shadowsndaisies]

the hard deck: slow ride (pt 2)

wc: ~1k

synopsis: a glimpse through Jake's eyes

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: here is part 2!

Look, Jake knew he was a great pilot. He knew it before he got sent to Top Gun; he knew it after. And he knew it before he got invited to this special detachment. In order to be a great pilot, there is a certain level of intelligence involved, so yes, Jake would say he's a smart guy. Which is why he feels confident in saying something has happened between you and Bradley.

You were by far the best person Jake had ever met. Pilot or not, hands-down, you were the best. There was something about you. That was just so innately trustworthy. Something bold and clever. He could put his life in your hands and wouldn't doubt them for a second. It'll be a cold day in hell before he admits it out loud, but Natasha Trace was a close second; it's the only reason he didn't go completely territorial over your friendship, that, and the fact that Phoenix probably would've thrown him overboard if he had even tried.

Since your assignment to the Tophatters, Jake has found himself with plenty of time to get to know you. And while you mentioned some of the people you attended Top Gun with, usually Harvard and Yale, you never once mentioned Rooster. Yet, there was something about the way you were staring at him, the way you watched how he and Natasha interacted; it set off all kinds of alarms in his head. He made a joke with the kiss and tell, and while you denied it, he knew there was something you weren't saying.

He's starting toward the pool table but pauses; whatever the truth was, whatever was going on, Bradley Bradshaw did something that hurt you, that much was clear, and well, if there was one thing Jake excelled at, more than flying, it was pushing all the wrong buttons. He looks back at you, gripping the G&T he'd gotten you, knowing you'd drink a beer but never enjoy it. You're playing with the condensation; he can see how your chest moves with deep breaths. And he decides there's no reason to build a bridge that was on fire from the start.

He turns and walks up to the Juke, scanning the listing and then smirking when he finds what he wants, putting in a quarter and clicking the numbers. Then he turns back to the pool table, "Bradshaw!" he calls, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees you turn. Jake hands the beers off, one to Nat and the other three to Javi for the moment being. "As I live and breathe," he smirks, stealing the pool cue out of Bob's hands.

It's a dick move, he knows, but well, right now, that's who he needed to be.

"Hangman," Rooster greets, a slight head tilt, and his lip quirks. "You look… good," he concedes, and Jake smirks.

"Well, I am good, Rooster," Jake starts, lining up his shot, and like he'd done to you earlier, he makes eye contact with Rooster as he hits the ball. However, there is a distinct rise in testosterone; unfortunately, Rooster is not nearly as fun to flirt with as you are. "I'm very good. In fact, I am too good to be true," Jake smirks again.

"So," Payback calls, and Jake notices how you've begun to inch forward. "Anybody know what this special detachment is all about?"

"No, mission's a mission. They don't confront me," Jake is the first to answer as he lines up his next shot, splitting his vision between the pool table and you. You're still far enough to keep everyone from seeing you but close enough to likely hear what's being said, even over the sounds of the bar. "What I want to know," he continues, "is who's gonna be team leader?" he emphasizes the question while landing another ball in a pocket before standing and looking around the table. "And who's has what it takes to follow me?" Jake doesn't mean to linger on you, but it seems to have an okay reaction because you quirk a smile in challenge, as if asking what makes you think you won't be following me? And honestly, he probably would. He'd follow you anywhere if you asked him to.

"Hangman, the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave," Rooster says lowly, and every Aviator around the table freezes.

Fanboy lets out a nervous laugh that Jake sure earns him a few glares, but his gaze doesn't move off of you; instead, he watches your shoulders tense, you bite your lip, and then he sees as you uncomfortably force yourself forward. He was a dick, he knew that, but he wasn't about to let you force yourself into this conversation when your feet weren't firmly on the ground.

Jake keeps the cocky smirk on his face and stands up straight before walking over to Rooster, "Well," he begins, looking Rooster up and down. "Anyone who follows you is just going to run out of fuel. But that's just you, ain't it, Rooster?" Jake quips. "You're snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment… that never comes," Jake takes slow steps, getting in Rooster's face.

The chorus of the song Jake had typed in came on at the perfect time.

Slow ride… take it easy…

Jake smirks, "I love this song!"

Jake had moved to go back to the game. Still, vaguely, he's aware that you're now speaking to another aviator and that Phoenix and Rooster are talking about him.

"Well, he hasn't changed," Phoenix notes, and though she's being quieter, it's not quiet enough.

"Nope, sure hasn't," Rooster affirms.

"Check it out," Fanboy calls, nodding past the table, and everybody's attention shifts, "more patches."

"That's Omaha, Halo, Fritz, and shit, is that Harvard and Yale talking to Athena," Payback notes.

Rooster pauses, "Wait, Athena's here?"

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes

[shitsndgiggs]

Can you write about kenan yildiz x reader where she graduates college and kenan is a supportive partner.?

MY ROCK - KENAN YILDIZ

You graduate and Kenan is your biggest supporter

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun shone brightly over the sprawling campus of Harvard University, casting a golden hue on the sea of graduates gathered on the lush green lawn.

The air was filled with excitement and anticipation, a symphony of proud families and friends celebrating the achievements of their loved ones.

Among the crowd, I stood in my cap and gown, heart pounding with a mix of pride and nervousness.

"Y/N!" Kenan's voice cut through the noise, and I turned to see him making his way toward me, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes filled with pride and joy.

He looked effortlessly stylish in his suit, a stark contrast to the sea of black gowns around us.

"You made it!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him in a tight hug. The relief of seeing him there, supporting me on this monumental day, was overwhelming.

"Of course, I did," he said, pulling back to look at me. "I wouldn't miss this for the world. I'm so proud of you, Y/N."

His words brought tears to my eyes. "Thank you, Kenan. It means everything to have you here."

As we made our way to our seats, Kenan pulled out his phone and began snapping pictures of everything.

"Kenan, you don’t have to take so many pictures," I laughed, trying to pull his arm down.

"Yes, I do! This is a huge day, and I want to capture every moment," he insisted, continuing his impromptu photo session.

We found a spot among the throngs of people, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Kenan held my hand, his thumb gently rubbing reassuring circles on my skin.

As the speeches started, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, grateful for his unwavering support throughout my college journey.

When my name was finally called, I took a deep breath and made my way to the stage. The applause was deafening, but all I could focus on was Kenan's beaming face in the crowd.

As I walked across the stage, Kenan's voice rang out above everyone else's.

"That's my girl! Go, Y/N!" he shouted, making the audience laugh and cheer along. I felt my face flush with a mix of embarrassment and pride, but I couldn't help but smile widely.

I accepted my diploma with gratitude, knowing that this achievement was as much his as it was mine.

After the ceremony, we navigated through the jubilant crowd to find a quiet spot.

Kenan wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground in a celebratory spin.

"You did it!" he exclaimed, his joy contagious.

"I did," I replied, laughing. "I really did."

We spent the rest of the day taking pictures, meeting up with friends, and sharing in the collective celebration.

Kenan was by my side the entire time, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Kenan, enough with the pictures!" I said, playfully swatting his phone away.

"Just one more, I promise," he grinned, snapping yet another picture of me.

Later, as the sun began to set, we found ourselves on a quiet bench overlooking the campus. The hustle and bustle of the day had finally settled, leaving us in a peaceful moment of reflection.

"Do you remember the first day we met?" Kenan asked, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

"How could I forget?" I replied, leaning into him. "You were so confident and charming. I was a nervous wreck."

"And look at you now," he said, his voice filled with pride. "Graduating from Harvard, ready to take on the world."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. "I couldn't have done it without you, Kenan. You've been my rock."

"And you'll always have me," he promised, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "No matter what comes next, we'll face it together."

[mrsvalbaker]

Can you imagine being Jason Carver's older sister coming back home from Suffolk University, where she was an art major.

She has come home for spring break and has dropped out of college, but no one knows this.

Jason and her couldn't be more opposite, she was known for her beauty back in Hawkins but she's always been odd and off, she has very Carol Kane-Madison from Splash-Alison Harvard vibes. She was always in her own world sketching or writing, or panting. She makes little dollhouse figurines and keeps to herself, her mother was always disappointed with her, thinking she's mentally handicapped.

Her parents weren't pleased that she decided to pursue art and she had to pay her own way.

In college she was a nude model, she was always known for curves and it madeher a lot of money.

But now she's back home, and she runs into Eddie Munson at Benny's where she's enjoying a strawberry shake and reading The Two Towers.

He has never seen this ethereal beauty before, but that's because Jason's mother had his sister sent to boarding school in Massachusetts.

Jason would call her and tell her about an Eddie Munson who was a freak that would try and steal Chrissy from him, but she had no idea what he looked like.

But seeing the handsome long haired stranger come over to her table, she was in awe. He's so gorgeous, and he knew about Tolkien and they ended up sitting and talking for ever about legends and elves and he found out this girl was more than a beautiful face. She rambled like an excited child, and had to take a few breaths as she showed him the sketches and watercolors she had made for her book.

They began to spend more time together, she would show him her favorite places in the woods where she imagined herself a druid or a wood nymph, lover of the God of the wood.

Eddie couldn't understand why this sweet, beautiful babe had no one else in her retelling, how she would always be alone. When he saw the lines on her arm he wanted to know who caused her such pain he wanted to kill whoever made her feel like she wasn't enough.

[nolita-fairytale]

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter one

summary: phoenix has always wanted to set up her two best friends in the navy -- ones that have, for whatever reason, still never crossed paths. that's all about to change when you get called back to TOPGUN for a special mission.

warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of death, strong possibility of military inaccuracies, second person pov, no use of y/n,

wc: 4.2k

a/n: not me having the audacity to take a crack at a top gun: maverick fic. this is what happens when i watch tgm 7x in one week. a fic is born. and in my defense, this cast has so much damn chemistry how could i not?! this is a oneshot idea that turned into a series that's turned into a series and a sequel? oops. 10/10 recommend listening to the song tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton.

masterlist | the playlist | chapter two

She’s shocked but she knows better than to be surprised.

At least that’s what Phoenix reminds herself as she watches the heated interaction between Rooster and Hangman at the pool table. It can’t have been more than five minutes since Rooster’s arrival for the two of them to get into it. And the way he looked at her just a moment ago? With his smug, annoyingly handsome, overconfident face right before taking another dig at Rooster?

She hates it. 

And she hates that it made her feel something. 

She can’t put her finger on it: disgust, unadulterated rage, whatever the hell else would make you want to kiss and kill someone at the same time.

She exchanges unamused glances with Rooster once again, shaking her head in the beyond cocky fighter pilot. 

“Well, he sure hasn’t changed,” she scoffs, watching as Hangman makes his way back to the jukebox to select another song. 

“Nope. Sure hasn’t,” Rooster agrees with dismay. 

“Check it out. More badges,” Payback says, turning his attention to the way of the new arrivals. “That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha… shit that’s Fritz.”

“What kind of mission is this?” Fanboy asks, taking note as the best of the best continue to arrive at the Hard Deck tonight.

As Phoenix asks the question everyone is wondering – who the hell the US Navy plans to teach the top 1% of fighter pilots – she notices Rooster’s disappeared from the conversation around the pool table. It doesn’t take long before someone’s cut the power to the jukebox causing a collective groan to ring out within the four walls of the Hard Deck. 

A smile creeps across Phoenix’s face as she knows exactly where Rooster’s gone. The sound of a few riffs on the piano being played catch her attention, and she excuses herself from the pool table. She joins her good friend she met at flight school, in all of his Hawaiin shirt-clad glory. 

“You missed me, Trace?” Rooster says, stealing a glance from the side of his old friend. 

“Not even a little bit,” she teases him in return. 

But Rooster understands. 

What she means is ‘yes I have,’ and ‘you could’ve called.’

The commotion of Maverick being thrown out of the bar interrupts their brief reunion, and while Phoenix watches, Rooster occupies himself with the task at hand. His large aviators that cover his eyes make it easier to ignore the fact that the closest thing he’d ever had to a father figure had been called back to North Island too. His long fingers run over the keys of the barely-in-tune piano of the Hard Deck, unwilling to acknowledge the presence of the man. Instead, he charges forward, noticing how easy it is to slip into the familiar rhythm of being back at TOPGUN. 

Outside of the bar, Jake’s having a little too much fun throwing the old aviator overboard with Payback and Coyote. As he heads back inside, he doesn’t join Payback and Fanboy at the piano with the rest of them, instead choosing to head to the bar for another round of beers. He leans back against the bar, watching as the whole bar seems wrapped in singing along to Rooster’s personal anthem. Hangman takes another swig of his beer amused by the sight. 

He’s not sure why he’s so hesitant to join in on the fun but he doesn’t move – can’t let Rooster have this one. Hangman lets his gaze linger on Phoenix from a distance as she dances (in his opinion) a little too closely for his liking to Rooster. 

He’ll never admit it, but he’s always been entranced by the woman he met at TOPGUN all those years ago at his graduation. She was a part of the incoming class, the one right behind his, and he’s not sure how, in the same damn khaki uniform as everyone else, she’s always looked this good. 

Her eyes light up as someone or something across the room catches her attention, and she’s practically jumping up, sprinting across the Hard Deck and into the arms of another naval aviator. 

And for the first time tonight, a genuine smile spreads across his lips. 

He wondered when you’d show.

As soon as he got the call, you’d texted him immediately asking if he’d gotten the same request for this mysterious special op. Earlier, when he’d watched Harvard and Yale roll in with Halo, your WSO he knew your arrival was almost moments away. But you’d never been the most punctual when it came to your personal life, so he wasn’t surprised that you were running behind. Jake chuckles to himself thinking about all the trouble you used to get into at the academy for not being on time. Almost got you kicked out a few times too, if he recalls correctly. 

It'd been too long since he’d seen you last, now that you were stationed at Lemoore. He loved teasing you about what a Californian you’d turned into, now that you’d been out of Texas. 

“Gonna start callin’ you Phoenix if you spend any more time in California, kid,” he’d teased you during your last phone call, referencing the LA native you both admired. 

But Jake’s almost forgotten about how close you are with Natasha – the three of you always circling around each other, never quite in the same place at the same time. He’s definitely forgotten (or at least tried to) the time you called him a lovesick idiot after he wouldn’t shut up about a certain fighter pilot he’d met during a certain deployment. 

What could he say? 

His first deployment with Phoenix had left… quite the impression on him… and you knew him well enough to call him out on it. 

Of course, Phoenix had wanted nothing to do with him at the time. His usual tricks – that Southern Charm and perfectly symmetrical face – only seemed to repulse her even more and he had to admit that it made him like her even more. 

“Whiskey!” she practically shouts, as Jake watches the two of you embrace. 

“Sorry I’m late. I would’ve come earlier if I knew there was a singalong,” you smirk, taking in the sigh of the more than jovial crowd huddled around the piano. “But once I hit LA traffic. Shit. That’s what I get for leaving for wanting to take my own damn car.”

“Oh I think he’s just getting started,” she replies, nodding towards Rooster. 

Before you can say anything else, before you can take a good look at the man behind the piano, Hangman’s cut your reunion-for-two short. 

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he croons, his Texas drawl prominent in the way he says each word. 

“Hangman, you son of a bitch!” you squeal, meaning the last part in the most endearing way possible. 

“Hey, kid,” he greets you with the biggest smile you’ve seen all day. 

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms. Jake picks you up, spinning you around before setting you back down on the ground as you laugh. Your public display of affection earns a few looks your way, and Phoenix pretends to vomit on the floor in response. 

You laugh again, “You think I’d get a free pass after putting up with this one for over ten years.”

“This… is something I’ll never understand,” Natasha replies, gesturing towards the space between the two of you.

“You jealous, Phoenix?” Hangman asks, a confidence behind his words.

Nat sends a snarky look his way before answering, dryly:

“Only in your dreams, Bagman.”

“You’re right about that,” he flirts shamelessly, giving her a wink. 

“Oh gross!” you say with an eye roll. You playfully punch Jake in the chest, pushing him away from you and Natasha. 

“Get your own friend. Besides, Nat and I have some catching up to do and I’m in need of a drink,” you continue, earning a groan from Jake. 

“What? I can’t watch?” he smirks, earning another fake vomit from Phoenix. 

“No, Bagman,” you tease, using the callsign you know Nat loves to demean him with. “We’re gonna talk shit about you.”

He shoots you a look, shaking his head at your snarky remark. He knows it’s out of love – at least from you. He concedes, tipping his beer towards you as a form of ‘cheers’ before taking a few steps away. 

You and Nat exchange a laugh, before linking arms and heading towards the bar.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with him for more than five minutes,” she remarks, searching for an available bartender. 

“He’s not all that bad once you get past all the bullshit. And there’s a lot of it,” you reply honestly. 

“No thanks,” Phoenix dismisses, before flagging down Penny.

You watch as she orders the two of you a round of beers and you can’t help but find it funny how quick she was to dismiss Jake. It’s true: you’ve always thought the two of them were more alike than they were different. Sure, Jake made questionable decisions on the daily. But even after all of these years, he still had more heart than anyone you’d met this side of the Mississippi. 

“How was your trip?” you ask Phoenix, making small talk to start. 

“It was alright. Came in a few days earlier to see some family in LA first,” she answers with a shrug. 

“How’s your mom?” you ask, curiously. 

And Phoenix answers, filling you in that her mom is doing much better than the last time you talked, and her brother and his wife are moving back to LA. You tell her that you’re finally getting used to California, while the two of you wonder about this top secret, special mission that you’ve all been called back to TOPGUN for. 

“Oh! Speaking of the best of the best. Uh… my best friend is here,” she starts with a smile on her face. 

“Excuse me. I thought… I was your best friend… at least in the Navy,” you tease her. 

She rolls her eyes playfully, “No, I mean. Rooster. I’ve actually been wanting to introduce the two of you for years...”

Phoenix gestures towards the man behind the piano still going at it, and you move over to get a good look at him. He’s hot. You’ll give her that. And you’re not usually into the whole mustache thing but it somehow seems to make him even more attractive. His oversized aviators are hanging off his face as he pounds away at the keys of the piano and you can’t imagine what grown adult man would wear Hawaiin shirts by choice. 

And yet, everything about him you’d normally find cringe-worthy in a man, he seems to pull off.  

He knows it too. 

There’s a group of girls gathered around the piano that are gossiping as they watch him riff on another instrumental song. 

And boy is he eating it up: the attention, the praise, he knows he has the ears of everyone at the Hard Deck tonight. 

“The piano player. From flight school?” you question, curiously, as you begin to connect the dots. 

“Yeah!” she answers, her eyes lighting up at your immediate recognition. “Yeah that’s where we met. Reminds me of you, actually. Just the way we both clicked instantly… and you’ve both become life-long friends.”

You think back to your first deployment as a naval aviator. You and Phoenix were sent on a mission in Sarajevo and had become fast friends. At first, you wondered if you grew so close so quickly because you were the only women on that deployment, but you’d discovered over the years that your friendship with Nat was unique. While you’d usually expect a fast friendship to fizzle out, your relationship with Nat had only grown stronger over the years. 

“Hm,” you sound in response, giving Rooster another lookover. 

Nat’s other best friend. 

Sure. 

Nat’s hot other best friend. 

“What’s with the porn ‘stache?” you ask, playfully. 

She chuckles, “Long story for a different time.”

“C’mon! I’ll introduce you to everyone else,” Phoenix encourages you, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you over to the pool table with her. 

“Gentleman,” she says cooly, greeting the uniform-clad men that surround the pool table. 

“This is Whiskey,” she announces, introducing you. “Top of her class at TOPGUN and the only person on the planet that can get me to drink the worm at the bottom of a bottle of tequila.”

“Yo, I’ve heard about you,” Payback says, immediately recognizing your callsign. 

“I could say the same about you, Payback,” you reply, and he’s surprised to see you already know his callsign. “Coyote, ‘s always a pleasure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods to you. 

“Wait. You two already know each other?” Payback asks, looking from you to Coyote. 

“Texas,” you both answer at the same time, exchanging a smile.

“Us Texans gotta stick together. Especially at the top,” Coyote clarifies.

“I’m Fanboy. And this here is Harvard and Bob,” Fanboy says, finishing his introduction of at least the aviators engaged in the game at the time. 

“It’s nice to meet you two,” you reply, looking from Fanboy to Harvard. 

You notice that it seems like Rooster’s little performance has ended and the jukebox has been plugged back in. It doesn’t surprise you that Hangman’s slipped out, probably to cue up his own personal soundtrack for the night. Bob is busy lining up his pool cue, but you already know him from Lemoore. He and Fanboy continue their game, and you wonder where Halo snuck off to. 

Bob shoots his shot, missing miserably with a sigh as the rest of the aviators cry out in supportive disappointment for him.

“Bob, ya really can’t do better than that, huh?” you hear the Southern drawl of Jake heading your way. 

You and Phoenix exchange a look, knowing just how much Jake is going to enjoy picking on the little guy.  

“Let me show you how it’s really done,” Jake smirks, snatching the pool cue out of Fanboy’s hands as he struts towards the pool table. 

You decide that someone needs to humble him, and you know just how you’re going to do it. 

“Easy there, Seresin,” you say, intercepting his gait. You stand your ground, right between him and the pool table, blocking his way. 

Jake stops in his tracks, as you stand toe to toe with him, barely inches apart from each other in a battle of the egos. Coyote lets out a whistle and you can hear Phoenix and Bob snickering in the corner as they watch on. 

“You see, I can’t let you do that because… it’s my turn, actually,” you challenge him, a rebellious look on your face. “So you’re just going to have to wait for yours.”

“Damn. You gonna let her talk to you like that, Hangman?” Coyote whistles, always amused by how willing you are to throw yourself in front of the moving bus that is Jake Seresin. 

“Don’t let her fool you. Whiskey’s always been sweet on me. Ain't that right, kid?” he coos, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“HA!” you hear Nat laugh loudly, as you raise your eyebrows up at Jake.

You don’t dare break eye contact. There’s no way in hell he’s winning this one. 

He shoots you a look that says, ‘you really want to do this right now?’ and you shoot him a look that says, ‘you’re being a bully.’

“Bullshit. She’s got you by the balls, lieutenant,” Phoenix hollers. 

“And he wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say, winking in her direction. You refocus your attention back on your best friend, pressing your lips together in a thin line “Besides, we all know that Hangman here has a soft spot for women who degrade him.”

You grab the pool cue out of his hand before bringing your opposite hand to tap him twice on the cheek, eliciting another round and whoops and hollers from the group of guys. 

“Ain’t that right, Bagman?” you throw in, parroting his condescending phrase from earlier. 

Jake shakes his head, knowing that you won this one as he watches you move around the pool table to set up your next shot. Bob watches on, impressed with the way you stood up to Hangman like that, especially in defense of himself. 

“If nobody warned you, Bob, the ‘T’ in Texas stands for trouble,” Coyote remarks, nudging Bob as he settles in next to the WSO.

While you’re busy celebrating your win with Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix, Rooster’s across the room, closing out his tab and grabbing his last beer of the night. He eyes you carefully. He’s never seen someone standup to Hangman like that, nor has he witnessed Hangman take it. He’s heard about you – remembered what Nat’s said over the years: that you were her other best friend, that you were one hell of a pilot, that he should stop making shitty decisions with women and just let her set the two of you up. 

And after what he’s seen tonight? He’s intrigued. 

You’re electric, and he’s impressed. 

What he doesn’t remember is Nat ever mentioning that you knew Hangman – let alone this well. Were you and Hangman a thing? He can see a closeness between the two of you – a kind of intimacy he’s never seen Hangman have with anyone, despite the revolving door of women he seems to keep around whenever they’ve been deployed together. But it doesn’t make sense, because why the hell would Phoenix want to set him up with someone if she were Hangman’s girl?

Rooster makes his way over to the pool table after you and Hangman’s confrontation, his lips pressed to the top of the glass bottle. 

Hangman’s hanging out on the edge of the group, flipping through something on his phone with his right hand and nursing a beer in his left. 

He doesn’t want to sound too interested, but curiosity gets the best of him as he asks, “What was that all about?”

“What?” Jake shoots back, looking up from his smartphone. 

“You and Whiskey…” Rooster says, trying not to sound too desperate for information. 

But Hangman picks up on Rooster’s interest in his best friend immediately. He smirks, knowing that his relationship with you is just another thing he can use to get under Bradshaw’s skin. 

“Spent a little time at the naval academy together, that’s all,” Hangman replies vaguely. When he’s met with silence, Jake knows that he’s got something here. He turns to his rival, scanning for a reaction on Rooster’s face. 

“What? You interested?”

Instead of answering, Rooster just shakes his head, taking another swig of his beer. It doesn’t take long for Natasha to steal Rooster away so that she can introduce the two of you, her eyes glimmering with excitement and the gears turning in her head. 

“Call it a rescue,” she mutters under breath as she drags him away from Hangman’s presence. 

Much to Nat’s disappointment, the introduction isn’t much. Just an exchange of hellos, names and callsigns before Halo comes to find you for a catch up.

The rest of the night goes on, accompanied by Hangman’s pick of tunes, and it’s filled with old friends, catch ups, and a few more rounds of pool. It’s good to be back here. In a way it feels nostalgic, and anyone would be lying if they couldn’t admit that being selected to be a part of this mission was a huge boost for the ego. While it’s cool to have some Lemoore buddies with you, it’s good to see your old friends too – the ones you don’t get to see as often – like Jake. Like Phoenix. These are bonds forged in battle, and people you’d trust with your life. 

It’s not till the end of the night that you realize that you may have had one too many, so you step out for some air. San Diego is perfect almost year round, you think, as you watch the waves crash against each other. 

“You good? I saw you slip out,” you hear a voice say. 

You’re surprised to find Rooster standing behind you, just outside of the entrance of the Hard Deck. You hadn’t gotten much time to meet him, despite Nat’s best efforts. 

“Yeah, I just think I’ve had a little too much to drink. Wanted to get some air,” you reply with a small laugh. “Thanks though. For checking in.”

“Can’t have you gettin’ into any trouble. Nat would kill me,” he says, taking a few steps toward you. 

This time, you fully turn towards him, resting your back against the railing, as he holds out a cup of water. 

“Thought you might want a glass of water too.”

“You’re a good friend. At least that’s what Nat’s said about you,” you say with a smile, taking the glass of water he’s offered you. 

“She said that?” he asks, only a little surprised. 

You nod in response. 

Rooster joins you, standing side by side, his back pressed against the railing, mirroring your body language. 

There’s a long silence between the two of you as you drink your water. After a big night of friends old and new, it’s nice to have a moment of quiet too – the waves being the only sound between the two of you. 

“So… you and Jake?” Rooster asks, interrupting your momentary shared silence. 

“Oh!” you gasp, another laugh following. 

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the question that makes you feel a little warmer as you contemplate how to answer his question. Between your greeting upon arrival and your standoff at the pool table, you can imagine why Rooster would think that. You can’t blame him. The two of you get mistaken as a couple all the time, especially when you’re out and about in your civvies. 

“No, there's-, there’s no me and Jake. I mean. We… met at the naval academy. He was two years ahead of me and kinda took me under his wing when he found out that I was a fellow Texan. We’ve been close friends ever since,” you clarify, trying your best to explain your uncommon friendship with Hangman. 

Rooster scoffs, a blush running across his cheeks as he mutters an unconvinced yet conceding with, “Okay.”

“What? You don’t believe me,” you ask, turning your head to watch his reaction.

“No, it’s not that! I uh… I’ve just… never seen Hangman let anyone talk to him like that. I just… made some assumptions, I guess. Sorry,” he apologizes, almost embarrassed that he asked in the first place. 

“No it’s okay,” you reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder before crossing your arms over your chest. “In your defense, there was one kiss at school back in the day that ended promptly when I laughed him out of my dorm room.”

Rooster laughs, the idea of it completely contradictory to the playboy persona Hangman portrays to the world. 

“Now that’s a story I want to hear,” he smirks. 

You shake your head, “There’s not much to tell. I promise.”

“He always been this much of an ass?” Rooster asks, stealing another glance your way. 

“Oh yeah. And he’s always been this fucking annoying too,” you add playfully. 

He agrees and the two of you exchange glances again. You’re starting to see why Phoenix has raved about him all these years and you’ve barely had a real conversation with him. 

“Then why do you put up with him?” Rooster asks again, this time a little more seriously. He’s not sure why, but he really wants to hear that you don’t have feelings for Jake. 

“Because… there was a time we were both just dumb kids, y'know? Because he may be an annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit... but he's my annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit. And I’m stuck with him,” you admit, genuinely. 

Your capacity for empathy leaves an impact on him. He’s going to be thinking about this conversation for a few days. 

“Fair enough.”

“So what’s the story behind your callsign?” he asks, changing the subject. 

You raise an eyebrow, “What’s the story behind yours?” 

Instead of answering, he just shakes his head and you laugh, knowing he’s not going to tell you. You don’t answer either, taking another sip of the water he’s brought out for you. 

*

“Hooooly shit,” Rooster marvels, watching as you pull of an extremely tricky maneuver in your two-seater F/A-18. 

It’s you and Halo paired up with Harvard as your wingman for this round of the dogfight exercise. And while you may be impressive, you’re still no match for Maverick, as he gets you with a killshot just for trying to show off. 

“You got to give it to her. That was smooth,” Fanboy admires as the rest of the aviators watch the exercise from inside the watchtower. 

Jake chuckles in response. You’ve always been full of surprises and he’s always finds it amusing when someone new discovers it. 

“Like Tennessee Whiskey, fellas,” he answers, his Texas drawl a love letter to your shared home state. 

He shakes his head watching you fly before adding:

“Some things never change.”

read: chapter two

*

A/N: HI ITS ME. How're feeling up in this club and why is everyone so hot and have so much sexual tension? Anyways... should I continue this or nah??

[froznwater]

You win some and you lose some (Alenoah)

Growing up, Alejandro was a I always win type of child. There was no losing. There was no throwing on purpose. There wasn’t a bigger picture. Only winning. Come forth grade, he started to see how boosting classmates' egos could in turn boost their opinion of him. And, by product, give him a leg up in both school and social status. 

He was on top of the world. A few gifts and charming compliments netted him every student of the year award on top of about a dozen others. 

Freshman year though. That almost really humbled him. There were a few bothers, that he got rid of rather quickly. Students the teachers seemed to like just a little too much. Kids whose grades he needed to strike down early, and eliminate the possible enemy later. 

Everything was fine. And then it wasn’t.

Noah showed up sophomore year and appeared to have a special talent for flying under the radar. Until he started taking the places of Alejandro’s name in the morning announcements. In almost every aspect that didn’t involve sports.

That year, they didn’t share any classes. Alejandro almost never ran into the boy. Only saw a couple flops of his overgrown hair in the hallway in between classes. (He looked him up online, then, when that yielded no results, searched through neighboring highschool yearbooks.) 

The next year, Noah was in every single one of his AP classes. And he didn’t give a single shit about any of Alejandro’s advances. Responded coldly when Alejandro forced his signature friendly smile. Put his headphones in when Alejandro greeted him in the halls. He didn’t react to flirting. 

So, for the first time in his life, Alejandro started working harder. There was someone he couldn’t beat. Someone he couldn’t manipulate.

He paid attention. Learned his schedule. Learned what he ate for lunch. Learned who his friends were. 

That got his attention. When Alejandro started fucking around with Owen and Eva. Flirted with Gwen and led on Leshawna, only to leave her in pieces.  

It only seemed to motivate him more. It’s exhilarating. 

Noah always seems to have a comeback. Always something to say. Always one step ahead or one step behind and Alejandro literally wakes in the morning trying to make sure that he is in the lead. Thinking up what he can say or do or be to throw him off.

Senior year and the race is too close to tell. All Alejandro knows is that it’s him or Noah. Third place is a whole .3 gpa behind and that’s not even a doable comeback at this point. 

All he has to do is think, breathe, look, and speak Noah. 

And then Courtney moves to town half way through the year. Her gpa is right there with them. 4.05. And she’s running for school president and interning at some fancy law office on the other side of town and her father has just as much pull as his own. And she wants nothing to do with anyone. A real Type-A good girl that has her sights set on Harvard. 

And all of the sudden this isn’t fun anymore.

Alejandro and Noah team up. There’s no way this random girl can just wander in and steal their place for free. She needs a distraction. Something that will help her live a little. 

And what better distraction than love? Someone to give her butterflies. Just enough to miss that one assignment and throw her out of the competition forever. 

Gwen seems like the perfect candidate. 

-

Academic rivals Alejandro and Noah team up to set Courtney with their friend Gwen and fall in love in the process.

(this is not my day 2 LMAO. I was just thinking about this and wanted to type it out)

[mauradersdaughter]

Lots of people might disagree with me, but Paris not getting into Harvard makes a lot of sense. She was obsessed. She didn’t live a life, she only studied, it was sickening for her to be like that. Sometimes in life you don’t get what you desperately want for a reason. It may not be the time for you to get it or/and you have some growing up to do. Paris says that the reason she didn’t get in was her interview, she scared them. She was putting so much pressure on herself and so much of her self worth into getting in that when she didn’t, she fell apart. It was similar to Rory and Mitchum. Paris, however, after she didn’t get what she worked years for, went a different path and figured that she needed to become better (not stealing a yacht). She stayed focused and determined, but was less sharp and started taking in new opportunities. Later, she did get in, at the right time. It all worked fine and the rejection helped her become someone better.

[agentcaboose]

Mexican Caboose headcanons in no particular order:

Caboose is a great cook but he isn't allowed to use the stove, or oven, or microwave, or sometimes the fridge but somehow his cereal always tastes better

Has an insane spice tolerance, to the point where Grif and Simmons started sneaking ghost peppers into his food to see what would happen

He was a folklorico dancer in high school, and his muscle memory will take over when he hears the polka from the warthog

No Sabo kid: can understand slow (robot) Spanish but can't speak it, there were so many kids in his house, his parents gave up trying to teach them all

His family is from Albuquerque, NM but he moved to Massachusetts to attend Harvard, it was the coldest four years of his life

His 17 sisters aren't all blood related, some are adopted, some were fostered and kept in touch, and some are cousins his parents took guardianship over

He is the tallest in the family, his dad calls him a "mountain mexican"

He has a tiger blanket that Church and Tucker (and now Wash) constantly steal

Calls everyone Miss and Mister because it's rude to call higher ups by just their first name, even his older cousins he calls Cousin [name]

He has dark, thick, curly hair that gets out of hand under his helmet, it drives Tucker insane attempting to cut it

The J stands for Jerónimo