#the One thing that we have that is Maybe directly from him is an email that hes the most likely canidate for

[arolesbianism]

Sigh. Nikola why must you be one of the more interesting oni characters. I don't wanna think abt you with your stupid spiky blond hair and your unethical science that mostly just serves to make Jackie more shitty by proxy. But I do. Because you're kind of orbo blorbo. Fuck you Nikola I hope you explode again

[darlingdaisyfarm]

texting Stan and Ford headcanons

smut version

˚ ༘♡ ⋆��˚ Stan Pines

✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.

✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.

✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”

✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”

✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”

✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”

✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.

✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"

types of messages Stan texts: 

"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"

“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"

"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."

"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"

"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"

“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”

"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”

"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."

“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines 

✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.

✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."

✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.

✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."

✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.

✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments

✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”

types of messages Ford texts: 

“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."

sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”

“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”

“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."

"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose? 

“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"

"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."

"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”

ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL

lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))

[gremlingottoosilly]

A bomb threat (And how it got you a boyfriend) special forces!Konig x fem!college!Reader

Konig saves you from a bomb threat when you get stuck at your Uni. Based on his bio - presumably, Konig was a part of the Austrian Special Forces before joining KorTac. He is also a bit of a dork and we have a bit of an obsessive episode.

Tags: Fluff, Reader is a cringefailure, Konig is overstepping his authority, hurt(not really)/comfort Warnings: Bomb threats, mentions of terrorism Word count: 2450

Someone called a bomb threat in your college. 

Well, at least, this is what the automatic email is telling you. The email that was sent to you, about especially avoiding the library on the second floor because the anonymous(not for long, since they have a knack for exposing who the hell is calling those threats each time) caller said that there is a huge chance of the bomb being placed here. 

You know, the same library that you were sitting in, right now, reading this exact email on your laptop. You thought no one was around because it wasn’t a busy day, just after the major finals, with most people staying on campus only if they failed first tests or just wanted to get extra credits for some extra curriculum. Even if you were staying here just because you wanted to work on campus’s newspaper – the library is a good place to scoop for some rumors about the dean of the uni being three raccoons in a trench coat, or the lunch staff posing as Polish mafia. 

The thing is – it seemed like you were the last fucking person to receive the email. The thing is, there are only a few weeks left before summer break, and the campus already started to turn off major announcement equipment since no sports or other events are planned. Are you going to die? Probably, there is a huge chance of you dying, as you can feel directly in your bones – god, there are probably some terrorists or uni shooters or that weird Christian suprematist who are going hysterical at the mere sight of religion other than theirs. You are going to die, you are going to die, you are going to…

— Scheisse! There is a civilian! 

You were never particularly religious, maybe only at the time of finals and work submissions – and in situations like this, where you are already mentally preparing yourself to get blown up with unfinished articles and forgotten hopes and dreams and everything and…

You were never particularly religious – so you have no idea why your pre-death auditory hallucinations suddenly included an angel’s voice with devil's timbre and some huge, tree-trunk-like hands wrapping around your waist, checking you for possible injuries or explosive device. 

These hands are really huge – and muscular, you can see how tense they are even through your black uniform, and they are roaming over your body in a way that would make you scream bloody murder and file sexual harassment if it didn’t belong to an obvious angel. Angelm in special forces uniform, an angel with a really nice boyish voice and warm hands that are sliding to your thighs, groping and checking for every possible outcome – for weapons, probably, because you are literally the only person in the room that was deemed as a bomb threat, and if you were this guy, you’d also think that you were the culprit. 

His fingers linger on your hips perhaps a bit too long – you can him patting you down like you were heading to a club – and then he lets you go reluctantly, not finding anything except for your phone which he also checked for possible timers. The interaction lasted…a minute or so, but you are already hot and bothered, getting off the strong hands holding you, even though he already let you go. 

�� Are you alright? 

He must have noticed your worried face and international student badge – his English is a bit accented but nonetheless confident. You never thought that small traces of German in a speech can sound so fucking hot but, perhaps, you are just traumatized and high on adrenaline and weren't getting laid for too fucking long. 

He wears a badge – something something long German words, huge design construction that made you think he must be pretty high-rank – knowledge that you only had because of the movies and games you were playing, trying not to get off the military kink too much. Something in the situation told you that you’d spend the whole evening searching for porn with guys dressed in all black today. Maybe, a touch of cargo. 

— Y…yeah. Fuck, sorry. I’m fine, fine. Yeah. 

You are rambling and he tilts his head to the side. This large, looming hand goes to your face – you wait for either a harsh slap to return you back to reality, or a passionate and deep kiss from your fantasies and dirty novels. He slowly traces his fingers on your face, getting up, in the hairline, searching for something – perhaps, a nasty head parasite that got you acting so weird around this random guy. Random guy who is just doing his job, securing that you’re safe, sound, and not going to explode in the next few minutes. 

— No head injuries. Gut. 

You want him to touch your face some more. You want him to check for mouth injuries, to evaluate the status of your lips. Maybe do some chemical tests with that gloss you were using today. Check the reaction with his tongue. 

He twirls you in place and you almost want him to press you against the wall. Search you some more, maybe get his hands a bit deeper, pass the oh-so-modest pants that made you look like a little bitch boy – his hand goes to cup your waist again, checking for anything that might catch his interest. Nothing – and you were never this sad about Hot wearing a concealed weapon that might force him to pin you down or get you into a chokehold with those massive biceps of his. 

— What were you doing here, ma’am? 

Studying in Vienna, you never found an Austrian accent this sexy. Never knew that you might like being handled like this before – it’s not romantic, not even in the slightest, but you smile a bit shyly, a bit awkwardly, and look at him from under your lashes, trying to look as innocent as possible. You are innocent – you weren’t doing anything, you were just trying to study and write in the last few weeks. Concentrated enough, so you never even noticed a fucking bomb threat. Didn’t hear soldiers running through the building, securing each room. 

— I…study here? 

You gulp loudly, taking a few steps away from the soldier. Allowing him to examine the room, deem it safe – the bomb threat called on your university was probably fake. Maybe a call from a paranoid individual, maybe someone with nothing better to do than pranking colleges. You seriously doubt anyone would try to blow up this place while almost none of the students are actually inside – especially the library during the low season. Even you almost decided to ditch the traditional writing atmosphere and just do something in the cafeteria. 

— Oh. 

His voice actually sounds…nice. Funny even, that small remark also makes him cough and look at you more seriously. He has a mask concealing his face, some weird hood or net on top of it – you try to see his eyes, but you can only occasionally catch glimpses of ice staring at you. Mysterious, you like it. Too mysterious, that little journalist club member inside of you is itching to get a look at his face better – you tilt your head to the side, contemplating just yanking it upwards and praying that he won’t kill you. 

Although you wouldn’t mind being crushed in his hold. 

— Let’s get you out of here, ja? 

You don’t question him when he suddenly picks you up – when the world starts to spin and you are pressed against his chest, his hands are supporting you under your knees and back. Securing you in place, making sure you are nice and comfy in his hold. You don’t ask questions when he slightly adjusts your hold so he can touch more of your thighs – you think he is just getting you comfortable, and you appreciate just how thoughtful he is. 

You don’t ask questions when he holds you almost like a bridal carry, even though you are certain you aren’t injured, and someone like him probably has more interesting things to do than saving poor college students who decided to ignore bomb threats. 

His hands are warm, his chest is even warmer, and his muscles aren’t even slightly trembling. You don’t know what sort of training those guys are coming through, but it must work – his steps are light and decided even when he can’t press you firmly against him, vest standing in the way. You don’t know what to do with your hands and you don’t want to mess with the government property – you think there is a law against fidgeting with special forces soldiers on duty – so you just get them on your knees. Like a good girl. Polite girl. Girl who isn't drooling over the guy who is just doing his job. 

— Thank you. For saving me. 

You whisper it in his headset – you are worried about someone else also hearing you, but there is something intimate about tilting your head upwards and getting right into his face, your lips millimeters away from the edge of his mask. You don’t want to sound suggestive, so you sound weak instead. You don’t to sound ungrateful, so you sound pleading instead. 

His hold on your thighs gets stronger. You lick your lips nervously, chuckling to ease the atmosphere a little bit. 

Your leg brushes above his waist – and you swear that you can hear his breath hitching. It’s impossible, you think, he must be a tough and content little soldier, perfect to save damsels in distress just like you – but something in his posture, in the way his fingers twitch slightly at the edges of your body, makes you think otherwise. Maybe, you’re just dreaming. Maybe, you know nothing. 

Someone slams into the room. Another man – shorter than the one who holds you, by a large margin, but none less intimidating. Burly, muscular, dressed up in full uniform which is expected – and with his face covered up by a similar veil or mask or whatever this is – which is unexpected. You thought that special forces would have something less eye-obscuring, but what do you know? You would be dead if the bomb threat was real. 

— Other sectors secured. No bomb in sight. Commander. 

He almost hisses, the similar accent in his voice makes your cheeks heat up even more. You feel weird, dirty even, thinking of those two large, intimidating men in such an intimate setting while they are just trying to save your life – but you try to silence that little annoying voice, to convince yourself that this is probably just adrenaline, ovulation and sudden urge to procreate before you would die. 

You feel your entire body stir when the man takes a step closer, looking at you. You can’t see his face, not even the outline of it – but you feel the burning gaze on your scared expression and obediently folded hands. 

— Gut. Other civillians? — 20 civilians in the building in total. University workers, some students. Already evacuated. — Any casualties? You hear a cruel chuckle from a shorter man. — If they were, you’d hear about it, sir. No, the sector is clear. — Gut. Dismissed – we’re finishing here. — What are you doing with the civi…

— Kruger, dismissed. 

The man who holds you is surprisingly stern when he isn’t talking to you. He used a much softer, quieter tone when he was talking to you, observing if you were hurt or in danger – and he is much, much different now. A cold voice, serious tone, the image of the ruthless commander flying in your head – well, at least you were right about his patches meaning something important. 

A shorter man leaves, and the door behind him swings open. To your surprise, the man who holds you – a mysterious stranger, you can’t even seem to find a name on his uniform – doesn’t let you go. His touches feel like you’re burning alive, he is igniting and brilliant and fucking perfect and…

He lets you down to the care of the local police department and some of the uni workers. His hand brushes over your face again – you think he was checking for the injuries but, then again, why would he touch your hair ever so gently only to move it out of your face to take a good look at your lips before letting you go? You’re imagining things, you probably must be – the man is just doing his job, he isn’t trying to fuck you in the nearest hallway even if you wanted him to. 

— Sir. I…thank you, really. For the help. 

— I didn’t do anything, Schatz. Someone must been playing a joke on everyone. 

You are going to find the guy – or a girl, or someone else, you don’t discriminate, everyone is equally capable of calling on the false bomb threats – who informed the special forces about the bomb in the building, and then you are going to kiss them. 

— What kind of joke is this? 

— A dumb one. 

He looks over to his unit – a group of tall, burly men, with weapons and uniforms and everything a girl could ask for – already packing in the vehicles to move out. You brace yourself to ask for his number – for his contact, anything, everything, maybe the favorite tree in the park under which you could meet again. You know that those guys aren’t supposed to reveal their identities, that he is probably out of town anyway, special forces aren’t usually called off to false threats, you know that your attempts are futile and yet, you lick your lips for added confidence and…

— Goodbye, Scahtzen. Stay safe, ja? Don’t want to save you from a real bomb one day. 

— I…I…um, you mean you wouldn’t save me from a real bomb? 

He was already halfway to the armored car before you could say anything. You aren’t nearly confident enough to yell across the whole fucking campus territory to get a number of this hot special forces guy, and something in his hunched shoulders, twitching fingers, and slightly less social and more abrasive manners tells you that he would hate the gesture as much as you would. 

Just like this, your first even real-life military crush is driving away, leaving you bombless, hoeless, and, most certainly, more depressed than ever. Summer is going to be great, right?

*** — What do you mean calling a fucking bomb threat?! 

Your friend wasn’t happy about the pick-up strategy you wanted to use.

*** — Of course, sir, let’s raid a fucking college dorm room. 

Sergeant Sebastian Josed Krueger wasn’t happy about his commander’s newfound love for college girls. 

Mostly because König refused to fucking share. 

[salemontrial]

A list of things (in no order) they BETTER include in the movie

- Rule #1: Don't Get Caught

- "And they are not khakis they're chinos. Khakis are for white people."

- The magazine page

- Zahra stealing Alex's phone and shoving it in her bra after the emails get leaked

- "Numbers on me being into dudes?"

- Get Low at the new years gala (bonus points for "Fuck it up, vato!")

- Alex blowing a beer bottle

- If I don't hear Bea's emotional depth pie speech I'll riot

- "America: He is my choice."

- "Now, I'm standing here, and I'm thinking about it... A reliable, hardworking, honest, Southern Democrat versus corruption, and maliciousness, and hate. And one big state full of honest people, sick as hell of beinf lied to."

- "Say good morning to your strumpet, Henry" "Good morning strumpet"

- Honestly the entire facetime with Pez while him and Henry are in Wales--

- Idk man i wanna see dc dykes on bikes chase westboro baptish church goers down the street

- "I am the First Son of the United States, and I'm bisexual. History will remember us."

- "I've seen Jurassic Park. Did you know birds are directly descended from raptors? That's a scientific fact. Raptors in my bedroom, Henry. And you want me to go to sleep like they're not gonna bust out of their enclosures and take over the island the minute I close my eyes? Okay. Maybe your white ass."

- "i want to see a cage match between your grandmother and this fucking ghoul running against my mom"

- The "Sexual Experimentation With Foreign Monarchs: A Gray Area" powerpoint

- "Sería una mentira, porque no sería èl."

- "Dear Thisbe, I wish there weren't a wall. Love, Pyramus"

- "Oh I'm terribly sorry Pip! So awfully clumsy, I think all that cocaine I did must have done a number on my reflexes!"

- Them dancing to Your Song in the A&V

- Alex NEEDS to fall into that rosebush

- "Hey. We won." "Yeah. We won."

- "But that would be-" "Yes Alex, the day we met, nothing gets past you does it? 'What about you' he asks, as if he doesn't know-"

[partycatty]

Can you do Johnny and a Fem reader thats taller than him? I'm getting KINDA TIRED of the whole 'u look up at him' thing like... no I don't.

the prompt made me giggle bc i have a mk oc that's taller than most people LOL

johnny cage > improv

johnny meets his new partner in his upcoming action movie, he doesn't expect to be outshined.

notes: johnny's like 6'1 probably, so i'm making the reader somewhere around 6'4ish. just taller. like "look down at him" taller.

[ masterlist ]

a new action movie? hell yeah, no problem, johnny figured as he walked with a sway in his arms. walking onto this set and that set was something he was fairly used to, and he practically owned his little area in this particular studio, considering just how often he picked up their projects. what he didn't anticipate, though, was his usual spot by the temporary living space was taken up by a trailer that was most certainly not his. who uses that color on the exterior?

then again, he thought, maybe something changed. maybe his assistant rented a different model and he was supposed to try it out. so, like the gentleman he is, johnny tries the door to the trailer that opens with a firm click. the last thing he expected was to see a figure at the other end of the trailer, sitting at a screwed-in vanity and humming under their breath.

"excuse me," johnny calls out, crossing his arms as he takes a few more steps inside. "i believe we haven't met."

you swivel in your chair, removing the earbud that was settled in your ear. when you realize who you're talking to, you sit up straight.

"oh," you're surprised he just welcomed himself in. "hello. are... is there something you need?"

johnny swallows, a little weirded out by it all. "yeah, actually. uh... you're in my spot."

"your... spot?" you raise a brow, looking around for the imaginary chair he must have been referring to. "i don't follow."

johnny shakes his head. "it's... nevermind. this spot on the lot is usually for the lead role."

his comment makes your brows knit together. "i am the lead role."

you can see the gears turning in his head as he realizes what he got himself into. you're an A-List celebrity, just like him. johnny wasn't going to be the top dog like always. it all makes sense now, reading the script and realizing why all of the emails were cc'd and never directly sent to his manager; you're the lead, he's the secondary.

all johnny could do was step toward you, now looking down at you as you sat at the vanity. his expression is blank, though there is a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks for being wrong. god, he hates being wrong.

"oh, sorry," your hands grip the sides of the chair, snapping him and yourself from the silent tension. "suppose i should introduce myself."

you hoist yourself from being sat and tower over the actor so easily it's a shock his knees don't wobble out of nervousness. you're tall, so damn tall and it flusters him even further. he doesn't even realize your hand is outstretched, he's too busy swallowing thickly over your shadow overtaking his form.

"you're..." johnny trails off, finally attempting to shake your hand. "nice to... meet you. sorry, i—" he spins on his heel and exits the trailer with a slam. you chuckle, realizing he was covering his face sheepishly, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head. interesting first impression.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

shooting the first scenes came quickly after your introduction, the weirdness of it all still bothering johnny ever so slightly. as you stood side by side he couldn't help but steal nervous glances. his side eyeing was not only incredibly obvious but reminiscent of a dog.

he always thought he was into people smaller than him, considering he himself was a big guy. but the way you'd use your height to your advantage, or the times you could look over him, he was blushing like a maniac. tragically, one of the scenes you two were meant to shoot was one where your characters were in a heated argument.

"if we let them go now, this entire mission would have been for nothing!" his character shouts, running a hand through his hair and fidgeting with the prop gun on his hip. "i'm sorry, but i can't let you get in the way."

you weren't blind, you could tell your presence made him anxious. thankfully, just as his specialization is doing his own stunts, yours was improvisation. and boy, was now a time as ever to take advantage of this skill. letting out a faux-angered growl, you grab both of johnny's hands and slam them against the wall above his head. you lean down to get to his eye level, a snarl on your face that leaves johnny a stuttering mess. your frame was much larger than him, and with the way you bent down, he was completely caged within your grasp. you noticed the director stand up straight in amusement.

"listen here, you son of a bitch," you follow the script flawlessly, tone straight like you didn't pin your co-star to the wall. "you're gonna take an order and that's that, are we clear?"

johnny looked like he could agree to murder right about now. His eyes are hazy as he wets his lips and darts his eyes between yours. "loud and clear."

a loud "CUT!" saves johnny from further embarrassment, and you pull away from him like it was nothing. if the director was complimenting either of you, it fell of his deaf ears and johnny's far away gaze as his hand falls to his chest to check his racing heartbeat.

"you alright, lil guy?" you fold your arms and stand in front of him, a smirk toying at your lips, but you knew his fragile ego wouldn't be able to handle your full cockiness. however, you were sure the insertion of the nickname got to him like a metaphorical gunshot as he clutched the fabric of his shirt.

"peachy, doll." his grin was so strained he looked to be held at gunpoint. you had never seen an actor, of all people, to struggle this hard.

[orbitariums]

warmth | art donaldson + patrick zweig + black fem reader (a snippet)

full length part 1 here!

i miss posting on here real bad and i keep teasing things (christopher moltisanti, richie jerimovich) and not actually writing/releasing them SO i'm putting this snippet of this oneshot i'm writing to encourage myself to actually put this out.

i think this will probably have multiple parts because the tension needs to builddd. and please, let me know y'alls thoughts!!! what do you think, what do you predict is gonna happen, r u thirsting adequately, etc. i love hearing your little comments <333

& let me know if you’d wanna be tagged when this comes out

essentially: reader, patrick and art were childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

warmth

“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”

Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite. 

“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more. 

“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”

“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end. 

“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him, 

“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”

A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat. 

“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”

Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,

“I was --”

The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers. 

“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door, like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast. 

“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”

Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway. 

The two of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky-high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies. 

“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end. 

“You made it.”

Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were draped in that cream-colored silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school. Now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twenty-something industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly suffocated you.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently. 

“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”

Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that still clung to his face, and the detergent still fresh from his clothes. 

You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing. 

“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”

“Oh, just a while—”

“Seven years,” Art interjected. 

“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh. 

You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom and fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs, had them panting like puppy dogs, inching your hands further and further only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.” 

It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from being reintegrated into your life. Your childhood best friends. 

“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”

Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy-nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore. 

“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed. 

“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.” 

Clink clink clink. 

“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options. 

“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”

A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it. Patrick and Art couldn't help but watch on with deeply impressed smiles — you were meant to bask: in glory, in pleasure, in everything. You looked just right standing where you were.

The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that. 

By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, clearing the tables, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year,  more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag. 

“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table. 

“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."

"And give us a little speech?"

"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."

At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly. 

“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”

You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.

"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.

"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.

You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.

"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.

You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee. 

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”

Art chuckled,

“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”

Patrick scoffed playfully,

“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”

You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt. 

“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”

Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,

“Do you think about anything specific?”

Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips. 

“Just what good times we had.”

A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm) — before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly. 

“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”

“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal. 

You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.

You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider. 

“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease. 

“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken. 

“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place. 

“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.

They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you. 

“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.

“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”

“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.

“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”

“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”

He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes. 

Then Art, always second but not necessarily last, 

“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?” 

His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.

You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.

“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”

“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.

Another chortle from you, this time the kind that said everything about how you lived in comparison to them,

“You wouldn’t be. This is a five bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”

Art started to stammer,

“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”

“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”

“Charles?”

“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”

“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly. 

“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”

“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time. 

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. 

“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”

You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental, but the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath. 

“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”

And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.

They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — high school all over again.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

eek let me know what y'all thought. i wanna finish it by this week <3

[justastraymoa]

ADVENTURES WITH CHEESE EXTENDED EDITION PT 10

Im lost. Hopelessly lost with a cat in a bag on my shoulder looking at me like I am the dumbest person on the planet. And honestly, I feel like I am right now.

How do I go out for a simple walk around the neighborhood with my cat and get lost for hours. And my phone is dying on top of it all!

There is no way I could call the boys. I would never live it down. And I mean never. Plus how were they supposed to help me if I didn’t even know where I was? I couldn’t even find a street sign to give me a hint of where I was.

And im tired, hungry, have no more water, and didn’t bring any money because it was supposed to be a short walk. Only I could get myself into situations like this.

If I use my phone to get a map up, I will kill the battery and I didn’t think to pull a map up earlier when I had more battery, because why would I do that? Why would I be smart enough to do that?

Honestly when I get back to the apartment, I am just never going to leave it again. It wasn’t worth it and I am apparently too dumb to go out on my own anyways. Maybe I could flag down a police officer or something if I see one. They may be able to at least put me in the right direction if they wouldn’t give me a courtesy ride because of Cheese.

When I finally saw the boys, it was almost completely dark. The streetlights were already on and no one was walking around anymore. I was so relieved I felt my stupid eyes start to stupidly tear up. Stupid.

Binnie walked up to me and wrapped his arms around my head so I could hide my face in his chest while the emotions passed. I held onto him tightly. Someone tugged Cheese away from me at some point, most likely Lino. And there were several rubs and pats as we stood there.

“Lets get your dumb ass home.” Lino sighed. I just nodded, thankful yet again for all 4 of them. And for the terrible circumstances that lead me to meeting and befriending them in the first place.

Once at home I was deposited directly into a chair and a large glass of ice water was placed in front of me. I drank a few gulps before forcing myself to slow down so I didn’t get sick. That would be the perfect end to this perfect night. Praying over the porcelain bowl because I drank too much water too fast.

I was lucky enough to work from home most of the time. The occasional meeting forced me to go in and work trips, but 90% of the time I spent working from my bedroom or the living room couch or the dining table. Kind of wherever I felt like sitting and a lot of the times I sat at all places throughout the day, just for a change of scenery.

The boys worked from home occasionally, when they could. I always knew when one of them was home because Cheese would abandon me for someone else. Always excited to have someone new to cuddle and bug all day. Also, he knew the boys would give him treats. I was the strict parent in this relationship. But he was still a mama’s boy at heart, so I was okay with it.

Today it was Bin who was working from home. From the dining table by the sounds of it. I could hear him talking to both himself and Cheese. And could also hear the occasional thump of something falling as Cheese was a turd because Bin wasn’t paying enough attention to him. Spoiled child that he is.

I stayed at my desk, both relieved to not be bothered and distracted by Cheese and lonely because Cheese was not here cuddling and distracting me. It was an odd combination. I would probably join Bin at the dining table later just to not feel so lonely. However, for now I had 30 emails on a crisis that popped up overnight that needed attending to.

I laughed out loud as I heard Bin go into Linos room and start to look around for the sling bag. He must be desperate enough to risk Linos wrath.

“I can lend you my makeshift sling. It works just fine!” I called.

“He cant just gatekeep all the good stuff and expect to get away with it! It’s the principle of the thing!” He called back. There was a crash as something was knocked over.

“He is going to kill you for going through his stuff!”

“He wouldn’t.”

I raised my eyebrows and waited for that to sink into Bins head.

“You will save me right. He is a softie for you.” I eventually heard him say.

I scoffed doubtful that Lino was a ‘softie’ for anyone. Except maybe his cats. He was soft for them. Humans though, me included, he was not soft for. “I will try.” I promised nothing more.

Later that night, hours after everyone had gone to bed for the night, there was a high pitched scream that tore me from my peace.

On instinct I ran from the room. Bins door was open and I could see Lino standing over his bed with a very creepy, very psychotic smile on his face in the dark room. The only light source from the hallway nightlight.

(A/N: I picture something like this look)

“I see you went into my room.” Lino stated lowly, face not losing an inch of psychotic.

My body sagged as I realized what had happened. Lino was getting his revenge. In a very Lino way.

“Im sorry.” Bin said lowly.

Beside me Chan laughed quietly. “He spent all evening trying to figure out how to get back at him for tearing the room apart.”

Hyune didn’t even look like he woke up, let alone looked to see why Bin had screamed like a little girl in the middle of the night.

I rolled my eyes and went back to bed, pulling Cheese closer to rub my face on his soft fur and hear his purring as I drifted off.

A/N: And here we are with part 10. Honestly every time I do another one of these I have so much fun but I also wonder how the heck this even happened. How the heck did I turn a bunch of random pinterest cats into Cheese and create a whole ass cat. And all because I love black cats and have had several of my own that vie for the braincell of orange cats on occasion.

Anyways enjoy! See you next time

Skz + pets masterlist

Taglist: @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

[backseatsoldier]

Mistletoe... Mishap?

Pairing: Gary "Roach" Sanderson x Reader/You

CW: Silly child being silly and demanding things; ~smooch~; much fluff~

Author's Note: Happy holidays, @lostintransist!!! All of the Gary smooches for you, always! You were an amazing belated birthday present. <3

"Mommy! Mommy! They're under the mistletoe! That means they have to kiss, right?!"

There's so much commotion and I'm so focused on the work email on my phone screen that it doesn't register right away what the small child is saying. However, just to check, I look directly up at the celing of the hotel lobby and- oh, shit. There's misteltoe there. My head immediately swivels to the seat next to me. Sure as shit, there's somebody seated there.

That "somebody" is also looking up. He must have realized I was looking at him, though, because he looks at me too. There's a small smile on his face and he looks at the mistletoe, then back to me with a questioning look.

My eyebrows shoot up. Is he... suggesting we kiss? I study him for a few moments. He's handsome and- oh, jeez. The kid is making upset noises.

"Mommy, they're breaking Christmas rules," she whines.

"Suzie, stop," the mother whispers desperately.

Before I can truly react, I see the man shrug and lean closer to me. Then his lips are on my cheek and gone within a few fleeting seconds. My face warms a bit as the child cheers. The man moves his hands in- oh, that's sign language. Shit.

"Could you... repeat that?" I ask hesitantly.

I hope that didn't upset you. Just figured I'd help that mom out a bit and avoid the disaster that would have likely been her daughter's holiday tanturm.

That's what I think he said at least. My sign language is a bit rusty so I had to fill in some gaps. While I'm processing what he says, he pulls out his phone. I figure the conversation is over until I hear a male voice from his phone telling me exactly what I assumed he said. Guess my sign language isn't as bad as I thought.

"I don't mind," I assure him with a smile. Then I lean closer to say, "I'm glad we managed to avoid a holiday meltdown from a child."

My smile turns a bit playful and he smiles back. Then he types on his phone again.

"My name is Gary," his phone informs me.

"It's nice to meet you, Gary." I give him my name in return.

"What brings you to the UK? It's the holidays. One would think you'd be at home celebrating."

"Ah, well... my family decided they didn't want to celebrate at home this year," I chuckle. "So a bunch of us flew out here to celebrate. Soemthing new to shake up our holidays a bit - or at least, that's how it was pitched to me." I chuckle softly at how my family conned me into making it to the UK for a holiday vacation.

Gary gives a silent laugh at my reaction as he types on his phone.

"You're very beautiful, by the way."

"Trying to get an actual kiss out of me?" My tone is teasing and there's a hint of a smirk in my smile.

"Maybe, but it's the truth. Plus we're still under the mistletoe. Is my plan working?"

I let out a true but quiet laugh.

"I haven't decided yet, but thank you."

We talk for a while longer. He tells me a bit about the area - his hometown - and where to find the best holiday treats. Eventually, my phone chimes and it's family thins time.

"Ah, they're gonna be here soon," I tell him as I stand from the couch we were on. "Thank you for your company, Gary. It was really nice getting to know you and learn about the best places for local treats."

He stands quickly as he types something in his phone.

"I'd like to give you a gift before you leave, if that's alright? Two, actually."

I check the time on my phone. Family won't be here for another few minutes so... why not? How bad can it be?

"Sure, but I don't have anything to give in return," I point out with a small smile.

He shakes his head, smiling, then steps closer to me.

"May I borrow your phone?"

Confused, I slowly hold out my phone. He does what he intends very quickly and so I can see. Oh! He's adding his number. Once the new contact is saved, he passes my phone back to me.

"In case you need any other tips for local holiday treats."

I smile at him in thanks, but before I can verbalize my thanks, his hands are cupping my cheeks and tilting my face towards him. His lips are on mine shortly after. It's a short and very gentle kiss, but still a kiss. My cheeks warm, but I allow him to do so.

When he steps back, his cheeks are a bit pink and he has a sily, lop-sidded smile on his face. Then he signs to me.

Happy Christmas.

"Merry Christmas, Gary," I respond softly.

Maybe it's not such a terrible thing, not being home for the holidays. New experiences to have, new treats to try.

CoD Christmas (Meet) Cuties Masterlist

[softspaceboibrian]

Fell in Love with the Fire Long Ago || Jamie Tartt

Prologue

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Y/N - Social Media Manager for AFC Richmond || I used she/her pronouns, but there is no actual physical description, so the pronouns can be switched with whatever anyone wants or prefers!

Summary: The first meeting.

Warnings: maybe some swear words? a lot of anxiety. I think that's it

Wc: 3593

A/N: this story is based on this idea . as always, if you want to read more, feel free to leave a comment. If you wish to be added to the taglist, let me know! anyways, thanks for reading! ALSO I'm making a playlist for this fic inspired by the chapters! let me know if you would like me to post it!

Taglist: @nicklet94 @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @katdahlali @sonyume @kerguelenn @janalustare @thebarisinhell99 @dancemajor1 @f1maverick @shakespeareanwannabe

The team had eventually gone to the pitch to train, while you had stayed behind. You inhaled deeply. For the moment, you were safe. You had managed to slip away and into your office unnoticed. However, after a few minutes of sitting alone in the room with your laptop’s screen casting a gentle blue light over the documents in front of you, you couldn’t ignore the unsettling sensation that anxiety was leaving in your stomach, as if a hand from within was gripping and squeezing all of your organs, tugging ever so slightly at your heart and making it drop whenever you heard muffled footsteps down the corridor, approaching, passing by, then moving away. I can’t take it anymore, you said under your breath, as if you were talking to someone that wasn’t there. Quickly, you gathered your stuff and made your way down to the coaches’ room. Was it the best place to hide? Obviously not! The room was directly connected with the team’s changing room. Still, the corridor on the ground floor wasn’t carpeted, and you could much more easily control the situation from there. Also, despite being still angry at Ted, you knew that the coaches, all three of them, would do anything just to know you were comfortable. And so, you settle down in the spare chair on the opposite side of the room from Nate’s desk. That was going to be your office for the day. You nodded, as you displayed all your documents and stationary carefully, with order, on the desk in front of you.

You looked around the room as you waited for your laptop to come back to life. You didn’t exactly love the charcoal walls with the AFC Richmond logo right in the middle of it. You often wished they would let you redecorate the space, but everyone was too afraid you would choose a wallpaper similar to the forest green one in your office. You would laugh. You were spending most of your days in your office, anyways. Except for that day. So, grey walls would have to do.

A ding sound brought you back to reality.

You immediately directed your attention to the screen in front of you and opened the notification. It was an email conversation between Rebecca, Keeley, Higgins, and you. The title: TARTT’S COMEBACK ANNOUNCEMENT. All capital letters, as if that was the most urgent thing in the world. You opened it and read through the messages. Rebecca was asking when the announcement was going to be put on the team’s accounts, because she thought it was important to do it as soon as possible. The sooner, the better, read her email, the sentence in italics, as to attract more attention. You could feel that nauseating sensation slowly remerging. You took a deep breath before moving to the next message. It was from Keeley, and she said that it would be better to just wait a while. Ted has decided to put him on the second team for now, she said was the reason she thought we should wait. But let’s hear from Y/N first, she’s the expert. The corners of your mouth turning slightly upwards, as you felt Keeley’s preoccupation and affection for you disguised beneath those words. No answer from Higgins yet. The decision was yours. You were the social media manager. You set the rules when it came to these things. That gave you a bit of relief. You clicked the Reply to all button, and started typing.

            Dear all, [you always wrote that, even though it was just the four of you and there was no reason for you to be so formal.] if you want my personal opinion, I think we should kick him off the team. [You weren’t exactly sure why you were so angry. Because, in reality, you weren’t. You were sad, disappointed, but not angry. Maybe it was easier to be angry than to be sad.] On the other hand, if you want my professional opinion, then I say we wait. If it’s true that Ted has put him on second team, then there is no need to announce it just yet. It would be misleading for the fans who would then expect to see him out on the pitch already in the next match. I say we wait and, when the time comes and Ted puts him in, then I’ll take his picture while he’s playing with the team, and we’ll announce it that way.

You clicked Send. You waited. Two minutes went by. No answer yet. You could already picture Rebecca stomping down the corridor to come and talk to you, saying that she had to make the calls - not true: you were in charge of the socials, you decided. Plus, you knew that Rebecca would understand your point of view. Or at least you hoped.

Five more minutes went by. A ding. Message from Leslie Higgins, Head of Football: I agree with Y/N. You smiled. Three minutes later, another ding. Message from Keeley Jones: I second that. You inhaled deeply. You could feel a weight lift off your chest. For now, you were safe.

After scrolling on Instagram for a good ten minutes, stalking other teams profiles to get inspiration, you actually started working. You weren’t sure how, but you had managed to get so focused on what you were doing, that you got startled when the distant murmurs of the boys coming back to the changing room for lunch break eventually reached you. You looked up from your iPad, where you had been sketching the new social media campaign, only to realise that an hour and a half had gone by without you even noticing. You looked around, panicking, trying to get your mind to slow down and think of an escape plan. But when you finally settled on leaving everything there and running outside to the parking lot, the soft murmurs had become clear voices only a few meters away. You were stuck there, with nowhere to run.

So, you stayed there, paralysed in that chair, until the coaches walked in. You could tell they were not expecting to find you in there. Ted looked at you, quietly, and you knew he wanted to say something, but you never met his eyes, hoping that would be a clear enough sign to him to just leave you be. You knew you had no reason to be angry at him nor at Rebecca, but it was the easiest way to get your frustration out. And Ted himself knew that what had happened that morning wasn’t truly directed at him, that you weren’t actually mad at him. So, as he walked by, he offered you a kind smile, one that said I’m sorry. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to reply.

Beard, on the other hand, laid a hand on your shoulder as he walked by, giving it a quick squeeze, before going to take his place at his desk. Somehow, somewhere down the line, Beard had become a sort of father figure for you, the type of bond that you can only share with certain people: the quiet looks, the silent nods, quick side hugs, hands on the shoulder or the arm as a reassuring sign. And you actually loved this subtle relationship that you two had. Most people would think that neither of you wanted to have nothing to do with the other, but that was far from the truth. You had bonded over your shared passion for reading, even though you mainly read narrative books, while he generally went for autobiographies and inspirational books. However, what truly brought you closer was the fact that, despite being half his age and being born in a different country, having grown up to different music and films, you were still able to understand 80% of his pop references, and more importantly, were always asking him curiously to explain the remaining 20%.

You gave him a quick smile, before turning around and meeting Nate’s gaze. “Moved in for the day?” He asked with his newly found confidence.

A quick nod. “Yep.” You replied, popping the p.

“Still thinking about renovating this place?” He asked jokingly.

“Always.” Your subtle smile told him that, as much as you enjoyed talking with him, that wasn’t the best moment for you.

“D’you want me to go and get Sam for you?” He asked, already making his way towards the door. “I promise I’ll be discreet.” He smiled a kind and comforting smile. You nodded as the memory of him walking in on you and Jamie in the boot room came resurfaced in your head. How is this the same person you wondered.

A few moments later, Sam walked into the office, already changed in his normal clothes. “We’re going for kebabs.” He told you, the invitation implicit in the way he spoke the words.

You didn’t say anything. You just stood up and grabbed your bag, before following him into the corridor. Isaac, Colin, Dani, and a few others were standing right outside the door, almost creating a sort of barrier between the exit and the door to the changing room. You looked at them, a soft smile forming on your lips. But in your head, all you could hear was you brain telling you stop being so dramatic, he’s just a boy. And you knew your head was right, but your heart still ached at the idea of seeing him back.

You eventually started walking down the corridor, linking arms with Sam on one side, Colin on the other, as Richard told everyone that one day you all had to allow him to take you to this new French winery that had just opened in Chelsea. A night on the town, he said with his strong French cadence, it would be fun! And you rejoiced in seeing him so passionate about something. You had grown to love seeing the team being truly happy about things, about life. A nostalgic feeling, maybe, because it reminded you about how excited you used to get when Jamie used to make reservations for the two of you at those posh little restaurants that you would have only been able to admire from outside where it not for him. Let me spoil you, babe, he used to say. You missed that, the thrill, the enthusiasm, the looking forward to those kinds of things. But you pushed the thought aside, focusing on what the conversation had just moved to.

You had almost made it out the door, when a voice echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls until it reached your ears. “Y/N!” You would be able to recognise that thick Mancunian accent everywhere. You looked slowly at the men in front of you as you took a deep breath, gathering all of your strength, Then, you turned around, finally meeting his eyes. Oh, how you had dreaded that moment. You had imagined it several times in the private of your own house. The doorbell would ring, and you would go open the door. He would be standing outside, hood on his head, his hair – which were now longer – falling in front of his face, in an attempt to cover his puffy red eyes. It was all a mistake, he would say, almost choking on his words. I shouldn’t’ve left. I should’ve never broken up with you. You’re the love of me life. You would stay silent, letting him do the talking. He would tell you how miserable life was without you. He would tell you that, without you, life was pointless, all black and white. And when he would eventually look at you, his eyes would be filled with tears. And you would drag him in, grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and pulling him to you, kissing him so passionately that he would need to press you against the wall to hold you up. You would kiss, you would make love, and then, naked in your bed, you would talk, for hours. But that wasn’t real life. That only happened in rom-coms. Real life was there, in front of you. And he wasn’t wearing his hoodie, he didn’t have puffy eyes. He looked fine.

You said nothing. You looked at him, you held his gaze, but said nothing. “Hey.” He said softly, in a warm familiar tone that, with the gentle smile he offered you, immediately brought back that burning sensation in the pit of your stomach. You could feel your heart beating, thumping in your ears. You nodded in return, the word stuck in your throat. You said nothing. “Can we talk?” He asked, hope plain on his face. You had almost forgotten that kind voice he usually used when talking with you, when he knew you were feeling uncomfortable, restless, nervous, when he could tell that something was disturbing you, and he wanted to make you feel better.

A part of you wanted to just run to him, immediately melting in his embrace, as he pressed his lips against your forehead. You wanted him to comfort you, to hold you, to rock you, as you finally took in his smell, one that you had loved so much, but had now forgotten. But another part, the sad part, the disappointed one, the one that couldn’t seem to forget how he had treated you in the last few days of your relationship, the words he had used, the coldness, that part stopped you from doing anything. So, you didn’t move. You stood there, surrounded by the people that had actually been there for you. “No, I’m sorry.” You replied flatly.

“I just-” He started to speak, and deep down in your heart you wanted him to talk, to say what was on his mind. You wanted to know if he was sad, if he regretted it.

But Isaac cut him off, putting himself between you and him. “She said no.”

You watched as his expression changed, as the hope on his face was slowly replaced by pain. “I understand.” He said. “I respect that.” You knew him well enough to notice the shift in his voice, the watery words that slowly left his lips. “Another time, maybe.” He added, his eyes lingering on your figure for a few moments, before turning around.

You stood there, frozen in the middle of the corridor, biting the inside of your cheek, as you watched his shoulders drop with disappointment. You had never seen him like that, and it hurt you. For a moment you thought of saying something, of calling him back, but as you tried to find the right words, his sulking figure turned right and retreated into the changing room.

Your eyes remained fixed on where his figure was a few moments before disappearing. As guilt and grief washed over you like a tidal wave, you almost forgot about the people next to you.

“That was very brave.” Sam’s voice brought you back to reality. You nodded still unable to look away, still hoping he would come back out.

“Sì!” Dani agreed. “Muy valiente!” and you could tell he was actually proud of you. They all were. In their heads, you had handled it greatly. But you hadn’t. And you hated the sensation it left in you.

Eventually, you all made your way outside, deciding to walk to the kebab place instead of driving. Fresh air is good for us, Jan Maas stated in his Dutch manner. But you knew that it was all a ruse, a way to get your head off what had just happened. They were all terrible liars.

As you got to the place, you settled in a booth, adding a few chairs so that you could all eat together at the same table. The boys immediately slipped into their usual topics for whenever they were out eating: the upcoming match; the last episode of that new action tv show that they had decided to watch together; making plans to go to the movies to watch the new Bond movie – planes that were never met due to matches and practice; someone’s latest match on Bantr; where to have the next family dinner – that was how they called the biweekly dinner the team had together. You nodded along, but your head was someplace else. You could have let him tag along, you told yourself. He’s probably eating lunch alone. You hated the idea of having abandoned him. And as the food finally arrived at your table, you felt the hunger in your stomach being replaced by sadness.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Isaac asked between bites, noticing you hadn’t yet touched your wrap.

You quickly glanced around the table, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “I can’t stop thinking about him.” You whispered. “We could have invited him. It wouldn’t have hurt anyone.” You said, tears instantly pooling at the corners of your eyes. Breathing had suddenly become more difficult, and you felt trapped in the middle of the bench, stuck between Colin and Sam.

“You have to give yourself time.” Sam put down his food, turning slightly towards you. “If you feel like you-”

But you cut him off. “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about him. About how you all took my side, which I truly appreciate. But now he has no one there.” You started rambling, saying how you felt terrible because it was your fault, because you shouldn’t have gotten them that involved.

“Listen, Y/N, we understand your point. But he mistreated us as well.” Colin stopped your train of thoughts. “Don’t know if you remember, but he called me a jaundiced worm.” You met his eyes. “None of us is going to hate him forever. Pretty sure no one actually hates him. But we’re mad at him. He disrespected us. Yes, we took your side, but it was also our own side, okay? So, stop blaming yourself because it’s not your fault.” There was a small pause. “We just want him to realise what he did wrong, an apologise would be great. But I promise, no one is going to treat him like he treated us.” His voice was sincere, which in a way lifted a weight off your chest.

Half an hour later you were all back at the clubhouse, and the boys immediately ran to the changing room. You smiled at them, before entering the coaches’ room and taking your seat at the desk you had claimed as yours for the day. Post-lunch drowsiness washing over you, you decide to wait for the team to go out to the pitch before resuming your work. You picked up your phone and immediately opened Instagram. You hated how addicted you had gotten to social media, especially since you spent most of your days on it for work. But still, you couldn’t help it. You scrolled mindlessly down your feed, leaving the occasional like on puppy pics, videos of animals and of your favourite celebrities – Harry Styles, Hozier, Phoebe Waller-Bridge. You read the usual inspirational quote from one of those pages that you always end up following after a breakup, those that always provide you with the most appropriate sentences to write down on a sticky note, which you would then put on your fridge or on your desk at work, as a reminder of some sort. “You need to fall in love with yourself first”. Bullshit, you had thought, as the pen traced the words on that square piece of yellow paper a few months prior, before putting it on the mirror in your bedroom. It was still there.

“It’s one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself to forgive. Forgive everybody.” That’s what read the latest post. Damn you, Maya Angelou, you whispered, as you wrote down the quote on a new sticky note.

You stared at the piece of paper for a while, reading the words over and over. Then, somehow, your phone was back in your hands. On the screen, a chat. At the top, the name read “J” followed by a white heart. You had thought about changing it. But you never did.

Before you knew, your fingers were already typing away.

I don’t hate you.

You hit send.

I just need a little more time.

Send.

Not even five seconds later, the word Read appeared beneath the two bubbles.

Three little dots. He’s typing.

The little dots go away. Then they reappear. Then, they’re gone once again.

You locked your phone and put it down on the desk in front of you.

You could still clearly hear the team talking in the other room. The coaches were still talking in their room. He had time. He could still reply.

You stood up from your chair. Maybe I shouldn’t have messaged him, you thought as you paced the room, glancing at your phone every now and then, wondering why he hadn’t yet replied. You could feel Ted’s eyes on you, and you knew he wanted to come to you, ask you if everything was alright. But you were glad he didn’t.

You kept pacing, your steps measing the length of the room, the distance between the two desks.

Then, a notification.

You immediately ran to your phone.

I know, and I understand. Take all the time you need.

You felt that all too familiar itchy feeling of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

The three little dots appeared once more. You stared at the screen.

I’ll wait for you.

A/N: once again, thank you for reading <3

[shadowkoo]

A Sweet Mistake

→ Summary: Your boyfriend texts you something rather surprising that sends you spiraling through past memories.

↠ yeosang x f.reader | 1.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, angst, meet ugly au, (there’s also a dash of fluff bc why not)

→ Prompts: #32. “I dare you.” + #48. Sometimes you question how everything could have turned out if that day had gone differently.

→ Warnings: getting dumped via text, praise, being called a good girl (bc you are duh), talking on the phone while being fingered, Yeosang is kinda depicted as an dumb asshole but you’ll forgive me (and him) by the end lol

→ Author Note: Thank you for requesting @anyamaris I hope you enjoy! Learn more about my mini requests here. As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

Your phone dings, drawing your attention away from the book you’ve been devouring for the last hour. You blink several times before staring at the text you just received in total disbelief.

[ From Y♡ at 3:15 PM ]

‘I think we should break up’

A few seconds later another message pops up.

‘I’m sorry’

Your heart races as you reread both. He can’t be serious. No way. After how you spent all evening together? The fresh memory floods your mind…

- Flashback begins -

Yeosang smirks as his fingers curl inside you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Wait, wait!” you rush as you reach for your ringing phone, “That’s my boss's ringtone.”

“Go on, answer it.” His eyes flare, “I dare you.”

You’re not one to back down from a challenge, so you do. And at that very same moment, his lips find their way around your already sensitive clit.

“H-Hello,” you answer shakily, “Yes Ma’am, your schedule? It’s been confirmed and emailed to you. Uh-huh. Yes, okay. Will do.” You answer your boss's questions quickly and silence your moans with a hand over your mouth as she rambles on about flights for her upcoming trip.

Your breath catches in your throat as the heat grows hotter in your lower belly, you’re almost there.

Yeosang groans as your walls begin to tighten around his fingers. “God, you’re perfect,” he whispers before licking you right where you need him. “Let go for me, baby.”

“I’ll look into it and get back to you!” you rush out, quickly hanging up before she’s suspicious, and come undone onto your boyfriend's fingers and mouth, leaving behind a soft sheen of your release.

“That’s my good girl. I love you.”

- Flashback ends -

And that was just the start of the night. So what changed between then and now? He suddenly doesn’t love you anymore?

That thought sends a sharp pain directly to your chest and tears well in your eyes while you type a message back to him.

[ Sent at 3:30 PM ]

‘Why??? What’s going on?’

[ From Y♡ at 3:31 PM ]

‘I just think it’s for the best…’

‘I’ll come by your place later to pick up my things.’

So his mind is already made up. It’s a good thing that your workday is almost over. You need to go home and cry. Maybe you’ll doordash some dinner and ice cream too. You certainly deserve it.

The ride home on the train is quick, and thankfully no one pays any attention to you as tears fall silently. And before you know it, you’re staring at a box half full of things that belong to Yeosang.

Your fingers play with the bracelet around your wrist, the one he bought you for your three-month anniversary. Its charms are a sun, strawberry, and pie slice, all of which are a small reminder of the day you first met.

- Second flashback begins -

The soft spring sunshine tickles your skin as you walk to the train station in the mid-morning light. The birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and it seems like it’s going to be a good day.

You smile. Not just a good day, a great day.

All of those happy thoughts come quickly crashing down when something from above smacks onto your head, easily knocking you down to the ground.

You gasp after the sudden impact. “Ow. What the fuck?” Your fingers reach up and touch something gooey that’s now covering your hair and face. “Ew.”

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” a stranger asks, kneeling down beside you to help. “Here, I’ve got a couple of napkins in my pocket. Let me help you.”

“What is it? Why is it warm and sticky?!” you panic, not sure exactly what to do in this situation.

“It seems to be a type of dessert? A strawberry pie, perhaps?”

“You’re kidding,” you groan. “So someone decided to just throw a pie out a window? The universe hates me.”

The kind stranger laughs, “Or maybe the universe thought you could use a little more sweetness in your life?”

“Unlikely, but thanks,” you say, using one of the napkins he handed you to wipe your eyes clean. You can see better now, he’s a cute stranger - if you have to be totally honest. Of course you would meet someone attractive in a ridiculous way like this. It’s just your luck.

You lick your lips, it’s tasty at least. “What a waste of good pie.”

“I can’t believe it landed directly on your head. I watch the whole thing happen in slow motion,” he says, struggling to hold back another laugh. “I’m Yeosang. Normally I don’t laugh at pretty girls who almost get knocked out by flying desserts, so my apologies.”

“Apology accepted. I’m Y/N, normally I don’t smell like I came directly out of a strawberry bake off but here we are.”

- Second flashback ends -

And that was the beginning of it all.

Sometimes you question how everything could have turned out if that day had gone differently. For instance, if you would have been slightly late to leave for work you wouldn’t be sobbing while packing up his things right now. Which is the last thing you thought you would be doing after falling so easily for him.

But you’ve never been one to beg for someone to stay. You’ve always said, if they wanna leave, let them.

‘He’s worth fighting for.’ The voice in your head practically screams at you. ‘Don’t give up so easily.’

Your doorbell chimes, breaking your thoughts and letting you know that he’s here. He has a key, which is how he normally lets himself in, but you guess things are different now.

You take a deep breath before opening the door, not sure what to expect exactly.

“Hi,” he smiles nervously and looks down at his hands which are holding…flowers? “Can we pretend the last four hours didn’t happen? I had a momentary freak-out and realized that texting you about breaking up was a mistake.”

“What?” your brows furrow in confusion.

“I still want to be with you. It just kind of hit me earlier how much I love you and I can’t imagine you not being in my life. But everyone leaves me at some point, and to make it hurt less I thought that by breaking up with you, it would make a future difficult thing less painful in the present.”

“Well,” you ask, crossing your arms. “Did it work?”

“No, I’m an idiot.”

“That may be true, but I love you anyway.” You hug him tightly and let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Next time you want to run because you’re scared, just remember that I will always love you, even when you make mistakes - like believing that I’m going to leave you.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I’m still sorry.”

“Good. You should be.”

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[scottsstreet]

home | Luke Hughes

summary: after a long day, being with Luke was just what you needed.

warnings: none

author note: this is my first time writing something, like ever. if you have any feedback or suggestions please let me know :)

It had been a long day.

it started with your boss giving you terrible feedback on your most recent assignment, and made you revise the whole thing. then, your coworker called out sick and you were left with all of her paperwork and emails along with your own.

you felt so pressured to get all of the work done so you didn’t stop. you were staring at your computer all day. your fingers ached from all the typing, your eyes burned, and a terrible headache had begun to form just around lunchtime.

needless to say, it was brutal.

it felt like a miracle when the day came to an end. you just wanted to get home, get in some comfy clothes and relax with luke.

as you got in your car and began your drive home, all of the stress and anxiety from the day seemed to be hitting you at once. you truly were exhausted.

once you finally arrived home, you couldn’t help but eagerly throw open the door of your shared apartment, your bag down and kick your shoes off. you let out a sigh of relief at the feeling as you do so.

upon hearing all the ratchet luke calls out to you “babe?” he says, “that you?”

“yeah, it’s me.” you shout back, slightly flinching at the pain in your head the noise caused.

luke comes out to greet you wearing a smile on his face, only for it to slightly drop after taking in your entire appearance. you looked tired. you had bags under your eyes and your hair was messy from having run your fingers through it so many times, even your clothes were wrinkly.

once he reaches you, luke brings you into a warm embrace. you immediately relax against him, your arms wrapped loosely around his waist and your head rested against his chest. he places a tender kiss on your forehead and begins to gently rub up and down your back knowing it’s something that helps relax you.

“rough day at work?” he asks,

“rough doesn’t even begin to describe it.” you mumbled back into his shirt.

“i’m sorry baby. how about we go lay down for a bit, hm? get you out of these clothes and maybe watch a movie?” he responds hoping to make you feel better.

“yeah, that sounds nice” you say just liking the idea of being with luke.

“alright, come on”

he begins to lead you back to your shared bedroom and over to the bed. he walks over to the dresser and grabs one of his old t-shirts and a pair of your pajama shorts. he then walks back over to you and helps you undress. you loved moments like these. they were intimate moments, gentle and so full of love but never anything sexual.

once you’re dressed, you both settle into the bed. luke is laying down on his back, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, his hand playing with the ends of your hair and the other drawing meaningless shapes on your back. you got comfortable as you laid directly atop of him, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his steady heart beat. you closed your eyes taking a deep breath inhaling luke’s familiar scent and placed a gentle kiss to his clothed chest.

“i love you” he whispered, just as he thought you were drifting off.

“i love you too” you whisper back, not wanting to miss an opportunity to tell luke how much you loved and appreciated him.

“i love you more,” he challenged you.

“i love you most,” you say with certainty in your voice.

luke just chuckled softly at you knowing he wasn’t going to win this battle. he kissed your head one last time before drifting off himself.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Loyalties chapter 7

Loyalties Masterlist

CW: check the main master list for warnings

Bambi sat at her desk, staring at the encrypted email. Her eye twitches just a bit as she rereads it over and over again. In her mind, she knew that this peace wouldn't last. In their world where demons make shit shake, peace never lasts. It comes in fleeting moments once you're made aware, and the moments you get, you have to make the most of it.

 

Miss Bambi,

I hope this message finds you well. We know that we can not contact your father directly anymore and that you're all laying low, but we need direction. One of our associates is in danger of being flipped. They were caught up in the raid at the estate in South America. One of our guys on the inside wants to know if they should act preemptively and dispose of them or get them out.

We also need funds to bribe a few gangs to turn a blind eye for a few things here in L.A. and to set up a new supply route. I know that Madame Carrie wanted to keep you far away from that particular mess of jobs, but her chosen replacement to look after it was just killed in a shootout and we need you or Master Malik to pick another one. I have attached a short list for you to vet through.

Lastly, I wish Miss Sophia and Miss Ananiah a happy seventh birthday on behalf of the Castello South Western Branch Pack. May God keep them.

-L

The email was the first in a laundry list of things to do. She was starting to regret not following her mother's ridiculous method of doing things. There was money to move around, branch packs and affiliate packs to pay, government bribes to keep track of and black mail to keep in order. On top of that, she had to help Aaron run a PR campaign for some fat cat that wanted to break into politics, and said cat was probably doing it for notoriety rather than making things better. Either way it was about to be a never ending goddamn list of things to do. 

And that was before she had to start coordinating their public lives and appearances.

She got to work looking through the list of captured people from the raid. Most of the people were factory workers, putting together whatever illegal weapons that were being secretly ordered by less powerful governments. Her eyes scanned the list looking for the project managers of the group. On a separate screen she had a list of dead that was accounted for from the raid. Protocol for all project managers dictates that should they be endangered of being apprehended, they are to kill themselves. Out of the twenty project managers, only two were alive and one of them was reassigned two days before the raid. The other, a poor soul named Marcus, was the one caught.

Bambi remembered Marcus, he was a sweet and doting beta that followed her mother around like a lost puppy. When he wasn't doting on her mother, or overseeing numerous projects that were top secret, he could be found doting on Bambi. He was her favorite worker, always bringing her new snacks from the places he visited when he traveled. He had kind eyes, a kind smile, and was absolutely ruthless in hand to hand combat. She had seen him take down men who were double his size.

‘Is it even possible to save him?’ She thought. ‘Or would it be better to kill him and keep everyone near him safe. Fuck what about the inside guy? Would he be caught if he was going to kill him? Shit now I gotta figure out if I'm about to put out an order to kill the inside guy too. Fucking fuck.’

Her phone chimes and lights up. It's her boot camp group chat.

Johnny: Bonnie 💖

Johnny: Bonnie lookit ur phone 😀

Kyle: 😒 it is 7am, she's probably sleep 

Johnny: I need her to look so she can see the good morning text

Kyle: 🙄

Kyle: As opposed to just sending her good morning?

Bambi: can't you 2 argue in person? You all stay in the same apartment. 🤨🤨🤨

Johnny: GOOD MORNING BONNIE LASS 🥰

Bambi: morning Johnny

Johnny: wha do I gotsta do te get ye ta call me Lovie on tha regular?

Kyle: maybe she has to be cock drunk for that to happen?

Bambi: 🤨🙄😒

Kyle: idk Dove, personally I'm a bit peeved that I don't have a cute nickname yet.

Bambi: he earned his by being a munch.

Simon: I'm gonna hate asking. But what is a munch?

Bambi: hold up✋🏾, Kyle and Simon I didn't get a good morning before you both started speaking to me. 

Kyle: sorry Dove. Good morning 🌄

Simon: …

Bambi: and so I blocked 🚫 Simon 🚫 again. Another hour of no talking to me. 

Simon: …

Johnny: 😂 

Kyle: you got plans today, Dove?

Bambi: yes. Contrary to what you all may think, I do have a job to do. 😩

Bambi: I'm not always out bar crawling or spending my time looking sexy. 😏

Simon: quit your job.

Kyle: Simon!

Bambi: I'm sorry what now

Simon: I said quit your job and pick up a hobby.

Johnny: Bonnie he's joking, I promise 😬

Bambi: whomst the fuck are you to even suggest I do that? 

Simon: one of your soon to be alphas.

Kyle: Simon now would be a good time to backtrack and renege

Simon: why would we want our omega working when we can just provide for you? 

Bambi: alright bet beloved 🙃

Johnny: wait, that donnae sound too good. 

Bambi sat her phone down and ignored the messages from the group chat. She went back to her conundrum about Marcus and that whole situation. She estimated she had maybe twenty four more hours remaining since he had already been in custody for a while. After about twenty minutes of her phone being silent, she got another message, but it was private from John.

John: Sweetheart, I already spoke to Simon. What time are you done with work so that he can properly apologize?

Bambi: what do you mean?

John: I mean that he offended you, and he is going to apologize. 

Bambi: are you making him?

John: No I am not. It's not an excuse, but Simon can be a bit rough on the edges. Mate has a habit of just being blunt and refusing social tact and just being bullheaded when it comes to his goals.

Bambi: and he can't say this to me?

John: He won't say it out right. He's stubborn that way. That stubbornness gets in the way. 

Bambi: sounds like a him issue John.

Bambi: what did you say to him?

John: That he needed to have patience with you and that there's no rush to claim you right out. 

John: He is worried.

Bambi: about?

John: We'll explain everything once we get the clearance to do so Sweetheart. I promise. 

Bambi: I'm done with work at 2.

John: Perfect. Also, because I forgot. Good Morning Sweetheart. 

Bambi: Good Morning to you too John. 💖

The promise of an apology didn't quell her anger at what Simon said, but it took the underlying sting from it. Seeing those words made her think of him. Made her think of a similar if not outright same argument she had surrounding her ninth month of courtship. She had been so angry then, being reminded of her fate to belong to another alpha, to be fucking stuck with no way out. College had opened her eyes and broadened her mind to what a normal life could be. She wasn't going to give that up so easily, that freedom that was on a ticking time bomb, that couldn't be defused. That bomb was strapped to her the day she was born from her mother. The timer was set the day her father had a finalized paternity test on him being her biological father.

The timer reached zero the moment she stepped out the door and left her mother to her fate. The same fate that would be waiting for her, waiting for any omega foolish enough to be born of her blood. A new bomb built and then carefully wired to her future omega son or daughter. Set to go off whenever it was convenient. Castello omegas were the only ones that could birth another blooded Castello, and she was the only one. 

How great and how tragic to be this chalice that would pour out more people to suffer.

“BamBam!” Aaron stuck his head into her office, “Huh, it smells like agitation in here.” his nose twitched. “You good?”

“No, just working through the back end and backlog of family stuff.” 

“Yeah, you do hate that don't you?” He plopped himself down on the couch across from her desk. Splayed out he looked like some old dainty woman suffering from heat. “Gosh, I feel like a wilting flower.”

“What do you want?” She laughed.

He waited for a moment, “Xavier wants to know if he's allowed back in the house.”

“I don't know, is he?”

“Bambi,” He sighed, “It's been two days since he acted out like that in front of your beau.”

“Okay and? I'm tired of him acting like he runs shit. Everything that happens here goes through me and is approved by Malik. Why can't he accept that?” Her eye twitched so bad, it felt like it could jump right out of her face. She stopped typing on her keyboard and turned to face Aaron completely. “Does he not respect me?” Her voice cracked a bit.

Aaron frowned as he sat up. He didn't like seeing his sister be this way. So much was already expected of her, had always been expected of her. He felt bad that she was groomed to take care of everyone else, and told that her needs were always going to be last in the grand scheme of things. 

Growing up knowing that her leash would go from Antony directly to some preselected alpha that would have won the right to her. Their impeccable constitution was preferred rather than how much they loved her or would cherish her. It was just the luck of Aaron's silver tongue that he was able to cajole their father into even letting Bambi within ten feet of a college. Even then there had been heavy stipulations regarding her freedoms. Every club and activity had to be vetted, every friend thoroughly searched to the point where it felt perverted, her major was picked based on what would be beneficial to the pack at large. The small allowance of life that wasn't controlled was her little Instagram pages that documented her ups and downs, ins and outs. 

Behind a screen name called Deerest Girl, Bambi Castello was allowed to be whatever her heart desired. She was a dancer, a poet, a model, a travel blogger, whatever her very soul wanted to be. All of it, perfectly edited, all faces cropped out and any damning information hidden, on display for her 3.5 thousand cult like followers. Her secret page, Princess_BamBam held her much more sordid thoughts. A messily curated collection and tomb to her reality. An ode to her steady death march towards the inevitable, but it served as a behind the scenes look at her. Good entertainment for her wider and more privy audience that were in the know of who she was.

A shame that her hobby of documenting herself was cut short for the sake of duty.

Aaron felt like he had a front row seat, a direct line of sight to her soul right now. What a great privilege it is to know Bambi and all of her different facets, public and private. All of them lovely no matter how bleak and dull some of them are, compared to the brilliance that she showed once she stepped foot out of her cage.

He took in a breath and thought carefully about his next sentence. He always had a way with shifting people's emotions in the direction he wanted them to go. Right now though, he knew that Bambi needed something he couldn't give her. He would settle on what he could give her though and hope it would be enough. 

“Xavier cares for you. He cares for your safety, your future, and wants what's best for you.”

Bambi sniffled as she stared at her brother. “He doesn't respect me.” Why were her words landing on deaf ears? “I'm the pack’s dominant omega, I now have to keep tabs on the ten other families associated with us and every bit of information that gets filtered to our brother and Malik has given me orders to do what needs to be done. I don't have to run every little thing by Xavier, ever unless it deals directly with him.” She huffed trying to get the words out, "Least of all who I decide to entertain."

“It's more than that, Bambi. Until our father is in a box Malik will not be lead alpha to him and he will see everything you do as going outside of father’s wishes.” Aaron got up and knelt in front of her. He wiped away the few tears that escaped her.

“So I'm supposed to just work and follow the ideas of a man who isn't here, and do nothing else?” Bambi felt like the world was suddenly closing in on her. The omega inside of her was howling in pity at their plight. Her chest hurt.

“No, we just want you to rest when you can and be happy when you feel like it.” He offered a small smile.

Bambi looked away from Aaron. She grabs a tissue, blows her nose and sighs. “I gotta get back to work Aaron.”

“Okay BamBam, holler if you need me.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving. 

They both knew his silver tongue didn't work this time. 

Xoxo

It had been a while since John gave Simon a good dressing down and boy did Simon actually feel like a scolded child. He didn't understand why the older man wasn't itching to bite and claim their omega. On base, most packs would have found their omega or beta or a successfully bitched alpha and marked them before two weeks were up. Who the fuck even heard of a year long courtship? They were soldiers, when out in the field, not even thirty seconds of the future was promised, let alone the prospect of an entire year continuously. 

“If you want her to like you, you have to put in the work Riley, you can't just order her around like that.” John used his last name and only did that when he was beyond disappointed. He then looked at Kyle and Johnny, “Same goes for you two too. Good sex and mutual attraction does not make a strong bond. It helps but it will not carry the bulk of the work to make this dynamic happen naturally.”

They all said yes sir and then Simon was dismissed to go figure out on his own how to make things right. He couldn't even get help from Johnny who was more charismatic with women, or Kyle who just somehow always understood emotions better. He knew he wasn't built for this. He wasn't built for anything other than killing and living for the mission and serving his country. Deep down though, his alpha grumbled at the thought of their omega being angry at him. An angry omega meant he wasn't doing his job right. 

He was never good at accepting failure for any job he set out to do. 

He took out his phone and read the time, it was a bit past eleven. Maybe enough time had gone by to where she would at least leave him on read if not answering him directly. 

Simon: Can we talk?

Bambi: …

He smiled at the dots. It wasn't her outright ignoring him, but a small way to mirror him and his habit of acknowledgement. He took note of the lack of emojis that she was so fond of. He really was in the dog house. 

Simon: Am I allowed to come to your home?Bambi: what for?

Simon: To pick you up and take you to your apology. 

Bambi: …

Bambi: What's the dress code?

Simon: Wear something comfortable.

Bambi: okay. Here's my address. I'll let Liza know to let you in.

Simon: I'll be there at 3.

Bambi: okay Si. 

Hopefully after this evening, they will have a better understanding of each other. Simon's phone dinged once more. 

Bambi: Just because I'm going with you, doesn't mean I'm going to forgive you right away. 😤 now let me get back to work. 

Simon: …

Bambi: don't get blocked 🚫

Simon smiled slightly at the little red block sign. That was most certainly next to his name in her phone. Looking at it, it kinda made him want to laugh. 

Simon: Sure thing Princess 

Bambi: 💖

[prof-peach]

ADOPTABLES NOW LOOKING FOR A HOME £25 (British Pound) per mon, Paypal only, First come first serve, DM to proceed with a paypal email for the invoice should you be interested.

BULBASAUR ------------------------- SOLD ARON --------------------------------- SOLD SKITTYxGLAMEOW -----------------SOLD CACNEA ----------------------------- SOLD

(evolutions for tany adoptables are avaiable at additional costs should people want that. DM for information.)

------------------------------Bio's below-------------------------------

It is a rainy day on Dotaku, most shelter under awnings and sit watching the weather from cosy positions in cafes, frequenting the arcade by the docks, and wandering the greenhouses to dodge getting wet. You however have found your way out to a pitched marque with a handful of pokemon inside, one somewhat gloomy looking member of staff with them handing out treats. The staff member wears a zip up Dōtaku green jacket, only noticing you after a moment, a middle aged man with a rounded shape and kind eyes, one thick moustache hiding his top lip but yuo can tell he smiles.

"Come to make a new friend today? We''ve still got two trouble makers searching for the right match, maybe one would suit you. Would you like me to tell you a little about them?"

You nod, eyeing the four, two of which ocming more forward with looks of intruigue.

You're not unfamilair with bulbasaur, this one however looks very unusual, its bulb is no bulb at all, complexion far lighter, with the brightest eyes watching you. "This little lady was hatched right here on Dotaku, but she lacked what give bulbasaur their energy, not having been hatched with the seed that grows to be the typical heafty bulb on their backs. It wasnt an issue, happens from time to time, and so the Professor planted one within them, and put them in recovery. We had a freak power cut and the containment unit that had her in it was breached by Morelull spores. They took hold in the fresh surgery area,and when her bulb started to grow, it came out like this. Peach has checked her over a hundred times, and she shows no adverse issues other than being less tolerant of direct sun, and a little more active towards the end of the day and night time. She's jolly, sweet and curious, but quite young, so she can be a little naive about things. She shows a lot of talent with spore attacks, but struggles with more phyical moves. In time she may prove a very functional contest pokemon should she like that lifestyle." Moving along the line, more at the back chewing on a rather destroyed toy is an Aron with darker metal than normal, and more spikes than youre use to seeing.

"He was brought in with several dents, and substantial damage, this little bruiser despite being sick at the time was picking fights with things ten times his size. The dents were buffed out where possible, he shed chunks of his shell, and regrew in tough as ever with time. None of his damage was long lasting, and when asked wether he wished to return home, he decided travel was a better choice for him, seeing many visitors battling at the island inspired him I suppose. They do very well with steel tying and struggle with their usual rock moves, so we'd advise against pushing them down that route if they're not comfortable doing so. He has a fondness for Sour foods and likes a lot of pampering, though he may seem bashful about this at the start. Buffing their shell up so it shines will bring out a very pleasent disposition in this critter, so we advise you keep a cleaning set on hand for those days when its rainy or theres a lot of fights ahead. He mixes well with others, but can be a bully to weaker constitution mons, so keep an eye on them. We nicknamed him ‘Chunky' but he has no real affinity for the name, so feel free to discuss a pick a new one."

Next along, sitting directly in the centre of the table, so you couldnt possibly miss it, a curly tailed feline looking pokemon.

"This ones Belladonna, a real diva. Her old owner spoilt her rotten, and her behaviour got out of hand because of it. She's since been retrained and the naughty personality traits have been reeled in to a more managable level. She has become well behaved with other pokemon, socilising shouldn't be an issue now, she shows a great enjoyment of walks, but will not roughhouse, soexercise with her should be very heavily based around play and games more than battling. She loves a brush, loves to be doted on, and may weaponise her cute apperance, so dont let her get the better of you, clear systems and rules in place with reward when followed is key to her not taking full advantage of you. She has a good heart, just takes a little while for her to warm up to you."

The final one in the line is a cacnea that looks like its been stretched in a taffy puller, who sits with its little legs swinging off a crate.

"And finally that little man is perfectly healthy, happy, and otherwise well adjusted. He was brought in because someone thought there was something wrong with him, there isnt, he's just tall. His variant type has been seen working in tandem with ranchers in hotter climates to manage pokemon herds, their evolutions can see all around for a fair distance, and srve as rgeat guards, towering over their normal counterparts. He's got a real level head on him, and should grow to be a fantastic friend. He loves spicy foods, and tends to put others before himself alot, so make sure to give them dedicated time and space to maintain their health and happiness."

[sophaeros]

love your blog, if possible could I get an Albert and Jules lore dump? I read your other post but I am hungry for more context (and sources)

omg hii glad u like it here !! 😋 umm ok i can try to do like a rough little timeline w notable moments maybe? whatever comes to mind lol

in err 1991 i believe when julian was 13 he got sent to that one swiss boarding school to curb his alcoholism (did not work clearly) and two years later when julian was 15, 13 year-old albert also arrived. julian stayed for two years and albert stayed for six months. julian had this to say about their meeting SNIFFLES. theyre never beating the soulmate allegations i fear

How did you become friends at first? Julian: Two of us arrived in a private school in Switzerland. I felt I had nothing in common with the others. They were so different from people I knew in New York, they were obsessed by clothes Haut Couture. I missed New York so much, it’s really a part of my soul. Meeting Albert was a relief. At last, someone with whom I could talk. There was immediately something, a feeling of complementarity. We talked a lot of music, of our band plans. We gave ourselves 2 years to create a band or to bury this dream. After 2 years, we gave ourselves 2 more years, (laugh).

— the strokes for les inrockuptibles, march 2002 (x)

after albert moved back to la he and julian lost touch until 1998 when albert moved to new york at 18 to go to film school and find himself or whatever. and of course they have the most red string of fate ass second meeting oh my god it makes my stomach hurt. I COULD LITERALLY SEE HIM FROM MY WINDOW. why arent they in a stupid hallmark movie romcom COME ON

“When I first came to New York,” marvels Hammond, resplendent in red and black winklepickers, “the way things happened to me, it was like there was someone… doing it. I moved into my apartment, it was directly across the street from where Julian worked. Like, what are the odds? I could literally see him from my window.”

— albert hammond jr for q magazine, april 2002 (x)

and so albert becomes the final member of the band, completing the set ❤️ (the talk, 2013)

Albert, did you have to try out to be in The Strokes? Yeah. I remember when I met everyone. I met Julian first, then Nikolai, got really drunk one night, and then I went to go try out, even though Julian told me later that in his mind I was already in the band. How come? I was an okay player, I could play chords and stuff, but I looked awesome. (Laughs) I just looked like there was only one thing I could do: be in a band.

albert and julian lived together for seven years from 1998 to 2005 when julian got married, they had two apartments together and the first one is the most well known, it's the dumbbell shaped one. idk about the layout of the second unforch

ehhh scrubbing ahead a bit. julian wasn't there for albert's intervention in 2009 because he was on his solo tour

but happily in 2013 we get albert releasing his comeback ep through julian's label cult records (and then he leaves cult records in 2015. c'est la vie.) (nme september 2013)

“I’d been talking to Julian about wanting to release something on his label since he started it,” Hammond Jr explains. “He was like, ‘Let’s put out a song’. So I went, ‘Alright, I’ll start working with Gus [Oberg] and maybe after we do a few songs there’ll be one that’s fun in there.’ I sent him the first, ‘Cooker Ship’, and he was floored. I got an email back with a million ‘yes’-es on it!”

speaking of which. i've posted this before but SIGHHHH (the talk 2013) that song is for his fucking then-gf justyna. (well, most likely. i dont think hes ever outright stated who he wrote it for but the mv is pretty domestic (for the most part......) and theres a bit where theyre kinda dancing in the living room which is one of the things albert told an interviewer he and justyna did a lot → vice june 2015 but of course i suppose you never know)

Kind of like The Strokes’ song “You Only Live Once”… Julian wrote that. I’m in the band, but I still take his lyrics like a fan would. You always relate lyrics to yourself, and I even do that with him even though he is one of my friends and we lived together when he was writing it. God knows what they were truly about. But it came full circle when he was over listening to “St. Justice” from my new solo EP. It was really cute, he was like, “Is this lyric about me?” And I was like, “…no, man.” It really wasn’t, but it was a good circle because I’ve felt that way about so many of his lyrics. When we got in the band, Julian had such a vision, he was just a strong writer, so the first three records are all his.

and then there's. whatever the fuck is up with one way trigger. i'll make a post about that swear

ending this post here i think bc otherwise i'm never gonna post this SORRY. i'll try to think of more but the tragedy of julian/albert is that it's actually really hard to find fuel for them. unlike milex where they're apparently physically incapable of not being all over and waxing poetic about each other. but then what you Do get is kinda crazy. such is life

[sturniololuv08]

On The Fourth Day Of Nickmas...

Day 4 of Juno's 12 Days Of Nickmas

The morning wasn't as awful because they were all starting to get used to the busyness.

"Matt's going to be upset today," Chris whispered to Nick. Jared and Ryan were getting breakfast and coffee together. Jared's parents were on their way over to say their final goodbyes and drive them all back to the airport.

"Maybe he'll get her number?" Nick shrugged, looking at Matt, who curled up over Bri.

"Who knows." Chris chuckled, walking away. Nick followed back to the kitchen.

"We'll let them sleep a little more." He sat down on a stool. Jared handed Nick a coffee cup and a plate with a few light breakfast items on it. Ryan handed Chris the same plate with heavier portions.

"So, what time is your flight leaving?" Ryan asked, looking directly at Nick. It made Nick feel like Ryan was excited to get rid of him.

"We have to leave here in about an hour." Chris looked at his phone. The airport drive wasn't super far, but with everyone having to get packed up, ready for the plane, and through the airport, it would take up all their time.

"No, we have like four more hours." Nick looked at his phone, confused.

"I got an email, and our flight had to be changed. This was the only one that would have us home in time." Jared's expression was flat.

"One hour." Chris restated.

"Damn. Too bad I don't think that's enough time to ice skate." Ryan now frowned in Jared's direction, furthering Nick's suspicions. He sipped his coffee.

"It's alright. Mom is on her way here to say goodbye to us anyway." Jared didn't seem bothered. The ringer buzzed.

"Speaking of." Ryan stood up and opened the main door below with the push of a button. Within minutes, the chatter from last night started up again. Ryan and Jared chit-chatted with his parents while they ate. His parents declined breakfast, having already had some on the way over.

"I hate that you have to leave already. One day just isn't enough time." Jared's mother whined.

"I know, but we have to make sure we are back in LA for Nick's campaign." He answered nonchalantly. He was used to Nick being busy with YouTuber things.

"His campaign?" She turned to look at her son's best friend.

"Yeah," Nick shifted his weight on his feet awkwardly, feeling bad that he was the reason their holidays were cut so short. "I have this like lip balm stuff, and I have to do a Christmas photo shoot for it." Jared caught his hesitancy in talking about his brand and found it odd. Nick was the type of person who told a random cashier in a drive-thru to buy Space Camp without any remorse or awkwardness. Now, here he was, not even able to say his brand's name.

"That sounds like fun. Hopefully, it goes well." She smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "Where is your sister?" She asked, looking around at all the faces.

"Sleeping in her room still," Jared said casually.

"We better wake her up before she misses her chance to see you off," Their mom said, starting to walk toward her room.

"I'll do it!" Chris jumped in her way and started walking fast to her door.

"Nothing," Nick said while eyeing Chris. Everyone started exchanging silent glances, trying to figure out their odd behavior. Shortly after, Chris and Bri emerged from the skinny hallway.

"Gonna miss you, bro." She yawned.

"Thanks," He said sarcastically. We should really start getting ready to go, though." He finished side-hugging her. Nick nodded. Bri escaped to her room while Jared and Nick returned to his. "Is everything okay?" Jared asked once they had some privacy.

"What? Yeah." Nick clearly lied.

"Nick, you love shoving Space Camp in everyone's face... what is going on?" Jared knew his best friend better than that.

"I just feel bad taking you away from your family. I feel like if I didn't have to go back to LA -"

"Stop. If I wanted to stay I would. My family is best in small doses. Trust me." Jared packed his clothes up.

"You sure?" Nick looked up at him.

"I'm positive. The only thing I really miss is our little traditions like cutting down the tree or hanging lights outside while we all complain it's too cold. We got to do cookies, though, so I'm happy." Jared loved his family, but one whole day of them chattering and being loud and all over the place was enough—wholesome but enough. They all packed and carried their bags out to the cramped living room. Bri and Matt coming from her room was not unnoticed.

"Ready?" Everyone nodded and shuffled down the apartment hallways to get to the car waiting out front. Everyone squished in the same spots. At the airport, the same hugging from when they arrived took place, except this time, everyone was held onto a little longer.

"Be safe okay." Tammy smiled. "And you, good luck with your campaign." She grabbed Nick into a hug. He was taken by surprise, so by the time he went to hug her back, she created space between them.

"Bye. Have fun." Bri waved everyone off. As they walked to the plane loading, Chris wanted to address it.

"So, Jared's sister, huh?" He nudged Matt.

"Shut up." He walked faster to get away from Chris.

"Seriously, I don't even wanna know." Jared waved his hand, and the three of them laughed. The group made it on the plane and were off to their next destination. Chris listened to his headphones, and Matt played Clash of Clans side by side. 

Jared stared out the window as Nick rested on his shoulder. Since his friend was asleep, he felt like he could think about his feelings without possibly being caught. He was replaying the car video over and over in his head, trying to figure out what it meant. He loved Nick. Everything about his best friend was lovable, but was he lovable like that? "Hey, we are landing."

"Already?" Nick mumbled. They grabbed their stuff and shuffled out. "Wait... Where the fuck are we?" Nick looked around, noticing this airport was not LAX.

"We are in Colorado!" Jared said, overly excited.

"Why?" Nick looked disgusted.

"Well, you said you wanted to ice skate, and we didn't have a lot of time to, so I fixed our flights, and now we can spend the night at The Pines Lodge." Jared was trying to turn his friend's disgust around.

"Okay..." Nick was warming up. He rubbed his eyes and looked around again.

"We can ice skate, ski; we can even play a little ice hockey."

"Sick," Matt said as he and Chris nudged each other, indicating that was where their time would be spent.

"Did you two know about this?" Nick asked them as they started moving towards the cabs.

"I did." Chris smiled proudly. He loaded his bags first. The drive to the lodge took an additional two hours, which wasn't too bad. In the morning, it was going to be the worst though.

"How much did this even cost?" Nick asked as they pulled up to the mansion-like building. The snow had fallen like a soft blanket over everything, and the ski lift was operating in the background.

"Enough." Jared smiled, glancing at Nick. He saw his face glowing with wonder as he looked around the property. The car dropped them off out front, and the men immediately came out with carts to take their bags.

"I'll say." Matt surrendered his bag.

"Let's go running!" Jared said, walking off in the direction of the skate rental hub.

"Running?" Chris and Nick looked at each other confused. They all got the skates they needed. The three identical boys picked out hockey skates while Jared grabbed figure skates.

"You gonna skate in those?" Chris mocked his tinier skates.

"You'll see," Jared smirked. They all hit the ice quickly except Nick, who was standing at the entrance. "Didn't you play hockey?" Jared swiveled around him.

"Not good." Nick ushered his hand out, displaying his awkward body.

"Come on. I got you." Jared grabbed Nick's hand and yanked him on the ice. Nick was standing and doing just fine balancing. See, you are fine." Matt and Chris were off in the background, racing each other up and down the ice. There were several different ice pools around, so there were only a few other people on the one they chose.

"Okay. I got it." Nick was falsely confident. Jared wanted to show off to the other brothers, so he left Nick and did a fast round around the giant ice pit. He did a little jump, which was nothing crazy, just the one cool move he knew how to make.

"Ok, Johnny Wier." Matt came up and shook Jared's shoulder.

"That's all I got." Jared was humble.

"That was so cool. You gotta teach me." Chris took Jared's attention. Jared and Chris skated into the middle of the ice and Jared slowly tried to teach Chris something he would never be able to do. Matt and Nick watched comfortably from their stationary spot. Nick noticed Jared's tall skinny body looked elegant when he moved. His leg being lifted was smooth, and he glided effortlessly around Chris, who was rugged and flustered.

"You sure he is just a friend?" Matt finally broke the silence.

"What?" Nick's cheeks flushed when he was asked the question he had avoided since their car video.

"I saw the car video." Nick glared at Matt. "It was an accident. I was looking for something else, and I saw it." Matt held his hands up.

"He is just a friend," Nick's outburst didn't feel like a lie, but deep down, it felt like a betrayal.

"Okay. Well, if he wasn't, I know Chris and I would be happy for you." Matt said, knowing his brother might need the extra push. Nick wasn't the type to take any leaps in life, so Matt knew his comforting words might be the push Nick needed.

"We're just friends," Nick said and skated towards a failing Chris and a laughing Jared. Matt followed, not wanting to be left out. "You guys wanna do anything else?"

"I hope it's okay I messaged Bella." Chris steadied himself to a stop.

"I was thinking about going inside to the spa." Matt laughed awkwardly.

"Anything you wanna do?" Jared asked Nick.

"I wouldn't mind getting something to eat."

"That actually sounds really good," Chris said.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go." They all glided off the ice and unlaced their skates. They made their way to the in-lodge restaurant, and Matt ditched them.

"Chris." The three of them turned to see a short, dark-haired girl walking over at a fast pace.

"Bug." Chris met her embrace and picked her up. He wasn't very tall himself, but next to her, he looked taller. She giggled.

"I'm glad you texted. Why are you here?" She said as they approached Jared and Nick.

"Jared wanted to surprise Nick with some ice skating and winter shit." Chris shrugged.

"That's so cute. You got a good boyfriend, Nick." She smiled, and everyone's faces changed.

"He's not -" Nick rubbed the back of his neck.

"We are just friends," Jared said humbly, giving Nick a small smile. "Let's get a table." He changed the subject, seeing how awkward Bella felt about the mess-up. Chris rubbed her back in little circles to make her feel better as he ushered her to the table. They all ordered, and as they were waiting, Jared and Nick were in the hot seat.

"So, how did you guys meet?" Bella was curious. She had only known Chris for a while, but they visited each other every chance they got, so she knew Matt and Nick fairly well. She could tell Nick was holding something back.

"We met in LA at -"

"Oh my god, the tryouts." Jared covered his face in embarrassment.

"What tryouts?" Chris didn't know the story either.

"Space Camp had model tryouts, and Jared was one." Nick started laughing.

"I was told it was supposed to be tropical okay?!" Jared pleaded his case.

"This man shows up dressed for like a Hawaiian vacation." Jared covered his reddening face. "It was for the pool club pack." Nick was giggling.

"Did you get the part?" Bella inquired more about the story.

"Of course not! I looked ridiculous." Jared laid his head on his arms on the tabletop.

"But I loved his enthusiasm, so I reached out personally to hang out, and best friends ever since." Nick was beaming at Jared. Chris noticed a little spark in his brother's eye. He had seen Nick happy in the past before, but something about his friendship with Jared was different, a little more real. Their food came while they were all laughing and talking. Chris kept a hand on Bella's thigh the whole time, and Jared and Nick continued sharing glances, accompanied by smiles, when someone said something funny.

"You coming back to my room?" Chris held Bella's hands in his, unafraid of open affection in the lobby.

"Sure." She smiled at him. They didn't see each other often, so they jumped at every chance to jump on each other.

"Wanna relax in the room?" Jared asked his roommate.

"Yeah." They made it to their oversized room, and Nick collapsed on the bed. He quickly sat up. "Only one bed?" He looked around.

"I mean, we have shared before. Plus, I wanted the room with the view." Jared opened the curtain to expose the wood panel window. There was something incredibly peaceful about looking out at the white mountain with people enjoying freezing activities all over it while being inside a warm room with dim yellow lighting. It felt like Christmas to him. Nick chuckled at his stupid question. They shared a bed last night, and it was completely normal. Why would he start worrying about it now?

"Are we going to be in LA in time for my campaign shoot?" Nick wondered. The thought of business hadn't crossed his mind for a while, but he needed to stay on top of it.

"Of course. I called Laura, and she told me the details of when and where so Chris and I could work this into our stops." Jared sat down next to Nick and laid back. Nick joined him.

"All this for me?" Nick whispered up at the ceiling.

"Yeah. I wanted you to feel like you got to have some fun. Surprise." Jared lightly shrugged.

"I really appreciate it." Nick wasn't sure how to explain how this surprise truly made him feel. He was also just happy that Ryan wasn't here to steal all of his friends' attention. They put on a random Christmas movie from the Hallmark channel and lay a foot apart in the bed. "Jared?" Nick whispered after the movie ended. There was no answer. He grabbed a blanket off a chair in the corner and covered him up while he slept. Nick couldn't sleep because all he could think about was the tiny seed Matt had planted in the back of his mind. What would it be like if they weren't just best friends?

My Taglist is built each post from comments so to be added to day 5 of Nickmas just comment and you'll be added. (Taglist is post specific so you won't be tagged in any other AUs, ONLY 12 Days Of Nickmas)

Taglist: @trevorsgodmother @strnilolover @chrissbug333 @kirby0strombolli @abbilmao @ksturnz @thenickgirl (I Love You)

Tagging @issysh3ll for the obvious <3

[saladmix]

can we discuss totmnt? we get a bit more insight into them as characters which is great! i like that donnie & mikey got a bunch more moments to shine! also! leo saying hes nothing without his brothers, raph's insecurities being touched on with the whole "your bros are in danger because *you* couldn't protect them and aren't strong enough" DUDE its the best. i like how this show added some aspects of their rise versions in that way & i enjoy it bc i liked how they were represented there. leo being anxious & insecure as his role of leader, raph's tough/aggressive veneer bc he feels like its his job to be the protector. + those little chunks of info we got from their character descriptions where they say raph is sensitive and "wants someone to talk to." more realistic & less one note for them!

ugh YES! we sure can it's all I want to talk about anyway I sit at my little corporate job answering my little corporate emails but inside I am like DO YOU PEOPLE KNOW ABOUT TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES.

Anyway, that's embarrassing! Thoughts below the cut so I don't clog up a dash with spoilers and rambles <3

I'm going to address these in (as Jenny Nicholson says) an internet-friendly numbered list! And also adding that these are just my opinions, as I am but a nobody on a rock floating through space.

Also these thoughts are SO HALF BAKED this is like stream of consciousness if you ask me what I said here I may not remember I'm just living a turtle life.

Leo saying he's nothing without his brothers ugh you are so right that was such good content! This strikes me as such a core Leo trait, maybe not shared across iterations in 100% the same way but I really do see that sentiment under the surface frequently. I found it so charming that in Leo's little re-telling of what happened with Bishop and the ambush, he basically made all of his brother's seem like these useless side fools, bolstering up his own role (even lying and saying he was the one to check out the hologram), but then we quickly see that he doesn't at all feel that way. In fact he feels the opposite, and it just felt like such a young growing teen thing to do, try to make yourself the hero. It's also my personal interpretation of why specifically this version of Leo wants to be a leader so badly! He's not the muscle, he's not the brains, he's not the charm. So what is he? He has to find a way to make himself feel important when he feels like maybe he has no other stand out qualities to contribute. But I also happen to think it's the right role for him! He shows his bravery again and again, and his ability to put together a plan, when other people are in need. He can't seem to muster that same courage for himself yet, that's part of his growth, but for the people he loves he comes out in front. I think TotTMNT did a great job with that aspect. <3

Raph! Raphael! What a lad! I really latched onto Raph in this iteration more than I have in previous ones, I really enjoy how he's written. I've always found Raph's anger across iterations to actually really make sense. Of course he's angry, he's a mutant turtle living in the sewers with no real sense of place in this world and no way to interact directly with it! And Rise Raph, while not displaying that direct explosive rage that Raph is known for, kind of showcases it in the stress and responsibility he feels for his family. Anyway, all this is to say we get both of those aspects here in this version along with the flavoring of what appears to me as some real teenage excitement for a little bit of chaos. And that scene was extremely telling I super agree with you!! I mean Raph sees all of his brothers as little shaking chihuahuas, particularly Leo which was VERY charming to me. He definitely sees himself as the protector, but even more, honestly, I think they do to. I mean Leo basically assumes Raph can handle four mechazoids on his own, he's got a lot of faith in his brother's ability to be that brick wall for them. And even though Leo is still the oldest, I do feel like they brought some Rise Raph energy to his character with how responsible he feels. Typically we see Leo as the character who is two seconds away from blowing his top off with all he takes on, but I see that a lot in Raph here too.

Donnie's interpretation of the ambush actually made me so so sad. Like it was basically how he thinks his family views him, as the one who has to save the day but gets no respect of it and doesn't have the tools to do it. He thinks they view him as this megamind that should be able to handle it because what else is he good for? All the others had flashback sequences that kind of center them as a hero, and while Donnie's did have him the last one standing, it didn't have that same kind of vibe. And in all the brother's flashbacks, we see that while they do see him as this dorky nerd, it's never said with any anger or annoyance. I'd call it more of a silly little fondness. But I think this insecurity is an important aspect of Donnie's character that we see in a lot of iterations. The big change here is that Donnie really does feel like just a kid. He's not out here ready to build high tech weaponry or distill medication. He's just a kid who is into coding! He's still learning! And I really enjoyed that. And in that second arc, we get another taste of how level-headed Donnie can be in a crisis situation, which for me tied back to how in the Mutant Mayhem movie, Leo kept looking to Donnie for help and answers. Leo is a frazzled lil man, and Donnie seems to be his source of stability. So it really did break my heart that this poor sassy and sweet boy thinks his family doesn't value him. It's a different flavor from Raph's and Leo's, both of whom have insecurities but they're mostly internal reflections. Donnie seems to feel that coming from the outside, and has twisted that into his own self-image.

Mikey is such a fun character like what a scene-stealer he's so funny in every part of this show, his VA is K I L L I N G it I find his voice acting so charming as Mikey and it brings such life to the character. But I really love how this version of Mikey is so dynamic. Mikey has always, always been a really dynamic character but I think it was a little more hidden, if you know what I mean. Rise Mikey flipped a big script and I like how this version really feels like a true combo from the rise version of Mikey to the traditional core Mikey energy, if that makes sense. I LOVE....this Mikey. He might be my favorite Mikey ever and I am a huge Mikey fan I am probably the only 2007 Mikey Super Fan out here in the world. Anyway, I love how his episodes had him forcibly shaken out of his comfort zone as lil bro. In the first arc he's suddenly in charge of a whole new mutant and Useless Man of the Year Rod. In the second arc he's got to save a whole store of people and a cat! It's A LOT of responsibility for this lil child! And he does a great job! All while expressing the whole time that he doesn't really know what he's doing, and he's afraid he's going to mess it up. It reminds me a lot of how other version of Mikey were often thought of as the weak spots by their respective families (intentionally or not). It was always Mikey the goof. TotTMNT Mikey is a HUGE goof but he's also got this energy to him that PROVES how I always felt about Mikey: I CHOOSE to be a goof, but I can and will step up if I need to! And it makes sense that he looks up to his big brother, that Leo is the one he tries to emulate in times of stress. When the going gets tough, Mikey has to get going, and Leo is his framework for how to do that.

boy was this a ramble and a half. I just had a lot of thoughts. Was any of this coherent? Jury is still out. Thank you so much for sending this in!! And listening to me ramble. I really agree that this show did a good job of bringing in a lot of different traits from different iterations it's so much fun and leads to really dynamic versions!