#they're doing a lil high five!

[winxwiki]

"Hands Off Women" VolaVia Winx collaboration campaign against violence on women, featuring a retouched season 1 artwork including Aisha

[lovingksuki]

✰ SECRET ADMIRER pt.2

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

an: guyyyyss it's hereeee. i hope you enjoy since i had many people asking for me to continue with this. i hope it is as good as the first part that btw you can read here

wc: 1,3k

the two went on a mission walking around the school and very non-suspiciously investigating whose hand that might be.

"i'm telling you! there's sato, iida and..." counted.

"are they even suspects!?" you mocked. "we have to be coherent about it. i don't even have a major relationship with them..."

"how could you possibly know what goes on inside other's head? i think you're being biased about it."

"what do you mean?"

"i know you want it to be one of the hottest in our class!" smiled diabolically.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you sweated.

"maybe we should call that double colored guy and just ask a few questions..."

"no way... what are you insinuating?" you almost screamed truly shocked.

"that you have a slight cru-"

"I don't have a crush."

"admit it already."

"I'm not admitting anything. quit pestering."

"you're no fun at all. so... are we talking to Todoroki any soon?"

"no."

"psst, isn't that sero coming this way?" mina whispered looking ahead of the corridor.

the duo telepathically agreed to their next move and mina quickly went in action.

"hey, if isn't our fave tape boy! can I have a high-five?" the pink cheered lifting her hand.

the jet-black haired guy smiled playfully slapping hands with her. watching everything, you caught that glimpse of time needed to take conclusions on the survey.

"what are you two up to? feeling extra energetic today..." sero stated.

absorbed in your own thoughts, you simply couldn't answer any of the questions made, so pinky said in advance: "we're just too excited for the... the-"

"for what?"

"the new movie...! yeah! that one with the clowns. everyone is so hyped to watch it!" mina came up with some excuse.

"oh, so you like 'bloody nightmare' series too? man, me and denki are gathering people to go watch with us." he cheered.

you and mina eyed each other nervously while sero kept rambling about horror films. pinky swiftly poked your side sending the 'make him shut up' signal and you quickly catch the message saying:

"y-yeah! it would be super cool, but we need to... to... go to the 1b room! to dis- discuss the next match-"

"we're discussing the teams for the next training match!" mina rapidly came with an excuse ready to push you up the corridor. "see ya!"

"but guys... their class is towards the other side." sero warned confusedly.

"r-right! it's been months, but we still get lost... hehe!" mina sweated. she spotted a purple voluminous hair meters away. "shinso! wait up!"

and you runned away. sero chuckled observing the girls as another duo approached.

"'sup pal?" kirishima greeted. "it's a important matter so, could you share what are the girls planning? we have business with them."

"it's no use, we're gonna lose sight of them." said the blonde ready to walk away, but his buddy was fast to grab his shirt stopping his tracks.

"be reasonable, it's creepy to chase them around the school." eijiro whispered.

"what are you two up to?" sero crossed arms curious about the situation.

"nothing particularly important. girly borrowed something from bakugo." his heart he thought slightly laughing. "did them say anything about where they're heading?" asked.

"mina said they have something to do with class 1b, and i think they left with shinso." sero explained.

"not that eraserhead wannabe..." katsuki gritted teeth.

"well, no time to lose then! thanks dude." kirishima dragged his best friend away.

when the two males finally found the duo they were shocked to see you holding shinso's hand while walking

kirishima panicked turning to the blonde who watched that scene petrified. it was the second time eijiro saw that expression on his face, the first was when they watched all might last fight. that expression that indicates he started malfunctioning, his thoughts are running wild, and he is about to break.

when he finally inhaled, kirishima's heart skipped a beat thinking bakugo would explode at any moment. he prepared himself to restrain his friend from murdering somebody or start yelling like a psycho, but bakugo just hollowed his lungs right after.

watching deadpanned as you walked away giggling.

that behavior... it was truly concerning coming from him.

"are you totally sure?" mina whispered excited.

"it's a great probability, didn't you see that monstrosity of a hand!?" you whisper-exclaimed. "his grip almost crushed mine!"

"okay, but let's don't get ahead of ourselves, there's other boys to analyze." mina said carefully.

"right, but he's a suspect! and did you notice how he didn't hesitate or felt uneasy to hold my hand?"

"i'm not jumping to conclusions but he seemed too chill! it's almost unnatural coming from a person who wrote a love letter." mina spoke wisely.

"you're right." you pouted.

"what am i suspect about? love letter!?"

"aaaaaack! for fucks sake!" you and mina jolted. "y-you heard us?" you asked shyly.

"were you eavesdropping!?" mina confronted.

the boy leaned in the doorframe crossing his arms unphazed by the pink's attitude. "you're not even whispering... some of 1b even heard about how i have big ass hands and shit." he chuckled.

you looked over shinso's shoulder only to encounter monoma, kendo, shiozaki and komori confusedly observing at some distance. "h-hey guys..." and kendo smiled amused.

"he caught us, mina. what do we do?" you said fidgety.

"there's no other way now that he knows our secret. we must kill you." mina stated creepily serious to shinso, making him falter.

"ha. you almost got me there." he laughed mindlessly. after a couple of seconds staring at each other he came to realization. " you're joking,,, right?"

_

"why did you have to scare him like that? what if he go out telling others?"

"it's quite the opposite. he won't tell anyone if he believes it's confidential information. you can question my methods but not my results!" the pink girl explained confidently.

walking down the corridor in search for another male friend. now that the lunchtime was coming to an end the school was less fuzzy, and the groups concentrated in their usual places.

"uh... mina... you're not actually dangerous, are you?" you blurted.

she looked at you puzzled, as if that question was more complicated than it actually seemed. "why do you ask?"

"it's just because, you're my best friend, and if it were for me to have a psycho so close to me i would want to know..." you reasoned.

"don't be ridiculous!" she laughed. "but like you said, we're best friends, that does mean i would probably hide a body for you."

"wait. what the-"

_

"kirishima it's been thirty minutes." the blonde stated impatiently.

the boys were sitting casually at their class waiting for the others to come grab their keys to the closets. p.e was the next hour.

"just be patient dude, when she arrives, you casually get up and go talk to her. do you remember the three steps?" the red haired pointed.

"don't scream, don't curse and look at her in the eye." bakugo grumbled a little skeptical.

when they heard high pitched voices and footsteps approaching the blonde jolted in his seat.

"there they are." kirishima whispered. "good luck soldier"

katsuki got up with a sigh, heart beating fast, he didn't even notice his feet leading him directly to you and almost fainted when you looked at him with those doe eyes.

"h-hey."

"hey!" you greeted rummaging your backpack.

"i was... i recalled that time last week you shared your notes and... i"

"you came to say thanks? it's alrighty! just gimme a shoutout whenever you need!" you smiled

his ears reddened. "y-yeah. but i was trying to ask if ya wanna grab milkshakes sometimes, my treat for the notes." katsuki managed to spill

"oh! i didn't expect that" you giggled thinking that was a cute way to invite someone to hang out. "sure. i provide the notes, you provide the milkshakes." you extended your hand "deal?"

he smirked satisfied shaking you hand.

"deal."

[machveil]

First things first: *deep inhale* AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH So so so so good! Mentally framing my wedding certificates to these silly lil men! Screaming, crying, throwing up, frothing at the mouth, flailing on my beg, kicking my legs and feet! Amaaaaaaazing! Something my daydreams cooked up when I was half-awake this morning: Imagine the rest of TF141 catching Simon on his phone more even during meetings and out in the field, seemingly checking his texts and when possible calling someone regularly, making a point to be away from the guys when talking. When they ask, he answers them casually, dismissing it as him checking in on the house-sitter he hired because of how often he's gone and how he hates coming back to dust and expired food. Naturally, given that Simon is the type to hate anyone in his space, especially someone he doesn't know, the boys (read: Johnny) are very curious. This leads to them (read again: Johnny) sneaking around trying to eavesdrop. Whether or not they catch him sounding softer while he listens to the person on the other side, him humming and chiming in while he goes about scrubbing his boots or inspecting his knives, is up to you. Is the reader actually his house-sitter? Yes, but Simon's also asking how their day was, how they're doing, things that are not even remotely related to his place that he may or may not be letting them stay in full-time because they were living in a shoddy apartment with poor plumbing and bugs and he just can't have that. He thanks them when they say they cleaned the windows, asks if they like that book they mentioned buying last week, how's their latest hobby going, etc. Simon Riley is a domestic man, and anyone arguing otherwise can pry it from my cold, dead hands! -🐸 Also I hope I never make you feel pressured to respond or write something, I just want to share my brainrot

ough, no no, keep them coming lol your brainrot is top tier! in fact, I implore people to send me CoD brainrot - the English student me yearns to write

Someone at Home

it’s normal for someone to make calls - Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t just someone though. reserved man that he is, isn’t it suspicious that he keeps reaching for his phone? Johnny thinks so CW: gn!reader but Johnny says ‘lass’ once as an assumption, shenanigans

no one notices at first - it starts slow. Ghost’s phone is set to vibrate, his incoming call ringtone is barely audible, but Johnny picks up on it. reserved Lieutenant that he is, for as long as Soap has known Ghost, as long as Johnny has been friends with Simon, Ghost doesn’t pick up calls on base

his new habit caught Soap’s eye, at first just receiving calls, but when Ghost starts calling someone? oh, Soap knows when something is up. “Got a lass at home, L.T., someone keeping ya bed warm?”, it’s teasing, tone lighthearted when Soap asks. it catches him off guard when Ghost looks him dead in the eyes, “Housekeeper. Jus’ checkin’ in, yeah?”, his voice was a little more stern than Soap would have imagined. a housekeeper, huh? he had his doubts, but he’d rather make it a game, try to figure it out for himself

Ghost used to have his phone completely silenced, only rarely turning notifications on when he was on leave - rarely, because even then he might just not feel like it. but now? this supposed housekeeper has Ghost leaving meetings when he can, ditching the gym to go out into the hallway

this housekeeper, apparently Ghost’s flat is high maintenance. daily calls at least once, Soap’s keeping track, most he’s called was five times. Ghost would always brush him off, mumble something about his air conditioner or a door hinge. always so vague, the first month had Soap scratching his stubble trying to piece Ghost’s life together - his life on the other end of that phone

it doesn’t help that Ghost is extremely secretive while texting. phone held down to his lap, his back hunched as he types with both thumbs. it’s very guarded, his gaze locked to his screen. he’s practically dead to the world when he’s doing this, mumbled words leaving his lips when he hears ‘Ghost’ or ‘L.T.’

Johnny tried to hover over his shoulder once, “Who’s that? Ya wee housekeeper, Ghost?”. before he could see anything, Soap let out a startled noise when Ghost’s hand pressed against his face - a quick shove was all it took for him to stumble back. “Mind ya business.”, was all Johnny got from Ghost, voice gruff and low as he turned his phone off

it was so alien to Soap, not the guarded nature of Ghost’s actions, just the fact someone was able to take Ghost’s full attention. and full attention isn’t an understatement, Soap could swear Ghost was smiling under his balaclava. he’s seen the crinkle around his eyes when his phone buzzes, how fast he is to check a notification now

maybe that’s why Soap turns to stealth - tailing Ghost when he steps out into the hall, or standing outside a door to listen to him. sure, Soap can only hear one end of his conversation, but that alone is fascinating. he’s used to Ghost’s gruff voice, a man of few words

but with his housekeeper? Soap’s a little awestruck at how often Ghost— Simon laughs. because, maybe it’s just Soap, but this isn’t the Ghost he’s familiar with, he’s being personable, a tad more talkative. his voice doesn’t carry weight to it, unburdened as he talks into the phone. that’s Simon Riley, a rarity on base

and then he hears Simon refer to them, this supposed housekeeper. “Love— no, I told you. You can’t use the window in the bathroom, it sticks. No, I know— bloody hell, when I get home I’ll fix it.”, ‘love’, such a sweet endearment coming from his low, gravely voice. it has a smirk tugging on Soap’s lips, eyes gleaming with amusement

oh, he’d love to tease Ghost over this. he does have someone keeping his bed warm, someone he cares enough about he’s using pet names. he hears Ghost say his goodbyes, about to turn around and leave when he freezes. “Get a good earful, Johnny?”, Ghost’s voice coming from behind the door, Soap’s shoulders falling

all he can do is sigh and peak into the room, Ghost standing with his arms crossed as Soap sulks in, “Aye, I did, L.T., I did… but I was right.”, he chuckles, walking up to Ghost, “Gonna introduce us to your ‘love’?”

[ihfmseatsoch]

go ahead and ignore it if it makes you uncomforatble, ill get the hint

but uummmmmm maybe something from jimmy's pov where he finds a girl at the bar, gets her drunk, has sex with her, and chokes to death? corpsefucker jim is my hyperfixation rn not gonna lie

aaaa sorry this took a lil while ! ive been sick and very sleepy

genre: smut, dark fic

word count: 2.2k

warnings/content: dead dove, noncon, coercion, manipulation, choking, murder, necro, jim being misogynistic

—

It was almost embarrassing, how easy some women are. At least their willingness to spread their legs for any man that came their way made it less of a hassle to get in their pants, Jimmy thought.

Pussy is pussy, no matter how you get it, or how many men have had it before you.

That's why he's not very particular when it comes to choosing some trashy whore to spend the night with. Looks, of course, is the main factor he pays attention to, but that's about it. Doesn't matter if she's annoying, unwilling, or bitchy; he'll never see her again, anyway.

He takes interest in a young girl sitting in the corner of the shitty bar he regulars, a drink in her hand and an aura of innocence surrounding her. She's alone and out of place, eyes darting around the room like she's overwhelmed by all the different noises, and the pungent scent of alcohol pervading the stuffy air. Plus, she's not bad looking, pretty by any standard.

Could the opportunity be any more perfect?

Jimmy gets up from his barstool and approaches her, leaning against the counter, a little too close to her for comfort, not that he gives a fuck about how she feels in the first place.

"Hey. You alright?" He feigns concern, "Ain't never seen you here before."

She has the demeanor of a frightened rabbit, ready to scamper away at the slightest sound or sense of danger. The girl's got pretty eyes, he notices, as she looks up at him with apprehension. He bets her daddy at home warned her about all the dangerous men that want to take advantage of a sweet thing like her. Jimmy almost pities the man that raised her.

She explains that it's her twenty first birthday. Ah, so she's one of the ripest on the branch, it seems. That's how he likes 'em. The younger, the dumber. Her friends are already plastered, throwing up in the bathroom. In harsher words, she was ditched.

Jimmy pretends to feel some kind of sympathy for her situation, while he's already coming up with a plan on how to steal her away and tarnish her purity.

"Your friends are a buncha assholes then. They just leave you high and dry like that?"

With a shake of her head, she smiles a little, already looking at him with complete trust. "They're usually nice... just not when they're drunk, I guess." She defends the very people that selfishly abandoned her. He can tell this won't be hard for him at all.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" He asks, a little too sweetly for someone with such vile intent.

It's obvious a man has never spoken to her like this. Flirtatiously. Her flushed cheeks give away that she's either a virgin, or just very inexperienced. Cute. She tells him her name, but if he's being honest, he forgot in about five minutes. Her name doesn't hold much significance to him, anyway.

Introducing himself was the first step. Now, onto the second. Buy her a drink. Alcohol will loosen her up nicely.

"What kinda drink you want? I'm buying."

She orders something sweet and fruity. It suits her. He flags down the bartender, hoping the drink is strong enough to give her a good buzz. In other words, easier to take home.

When their drinks are ready, he clinks the rim of his glass to hers. "To your first legal drink." He says, his smile deceptively warm, tipping the glass back and downing the whole thing in one go. She takes a little longer to drink hers, drinking in small, irritatingly cautious sips. That won't do. He doesn't want to be here all night.

"You're doin' it wrong," He invasively grabs her wrist, "C'mon, you gotta drink it all at once."

He guides the glass to her lips, coaxing her to take his advice. He watches her hesitate, before she mimics him and swallows it all down in one gulp, wincing as the tart liquid burns going down her throat, the flavor lingering on her taste buds.

Jimmy is a more than pleased at her obedience.

"There ya go. Atta girl." He praises, intentionally making her feel proud of herself so she continues to crave his validation and listen to his every word. He orders a round of shots, moreso for her than for himself. He needs to be sober enough to drive her back to his place, after all.

Jimmy intently observes her as she takes shot after shot, becoming increasingly more drunk. She's a giggly one, blathering about every thought on her mind. Jim nods and hums absentmindedly, not having any interest in actually conversing with her.

"Alright, I think you're done for the night. Time to get you home." He pulls her up off the stool and wraps an arm around her waist to support her weight.

Confused at his sudden insistence on leaving, she places her hands on his chest, stopping him from dragging her any further. "N– No, I'm good! I can handle a little more..." Her words slur, eyes glazed over. This will be a little harder than he initially thought. He has to repress the urge to roll his eyes.

"You can barely walk. C'mon, I'll drive. You'll thank me in the morning."

To her drunken mind, what he's saying makes sense. "Oh... M'kay." She mumbles, too intoxicated to question how he knows where her house even is, and in truth, he doesn't, but he's not taking her home.

She's going to his.

Jimmy keeps a tight grip on her as he leads her out of the bar towards his parked car. She's stumbling the whole way and leaning against him far more than she should. "Whoa, whoa. Careful, now." He says, though it lacks any sort of real concern for her well-being.

The drive back to his apartment feels longer with her babbling to him about pointless stories that he can hardly comprehend because she's recalling every event out of order. Jimmy has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at her to shut up. He'll get plenty of use out of her mouth soon enough.

"Yeah, yeah. That's great." He says absentmindedly as she babbles on. He makes a show to listen, adding an occasional hum or wordless response to her ramblings, but he's only focused on getting her to his door. Finally, he parks the car and cuts off her incoherent chattering. "We're here."

It took her until now to realize she's not where she's supposed to be. "Umm... That's not my apartment." She points out, as Jimmy helps her out of the passenger seat, grabbing her arm to lead her along with him, leaving no room for her to protest or pull away.

"I'm takin' care of you tonight. Can't leave you home alone, you'll end up doin' something stupid." The way he lies without flinching is convincing enough to the inebriated woman, allowing him to drag her to his floor, and into his home.

The interior is messy, empty liquor bottles and cans laid on various surfaces, not excluding the floor, either. Half-smoked cigarettes fill an ashtray on the coffee table, a variety of trash littered in every corner. He won't bother cleaning up, of course. She's not here to judge how he lives.

"Sit." He gestures to his ratty couch. Jimmy speaks more like he's ordering her, rather than offering her a place to rest out of the kindness of his heart. She obeys nonetheless, collapsing onto the torn cushions. Fortunately, she can't properly notice the filth with double vision. Unfortunately, she doesn't know what she's in for.

He sits himself down next to her, too close, invading her personal space. He takes her chin in his hand and tilts her head around, studying her. "You're a pretty little thing, ain't you?" His arm snakes around her shoulder, pulling her close against him.

Lacking her usual judgement and reflexes, she let's him run his hands all over her, albeit confused as to why he's touching her like this in the first place. "Uhh... My boyfriend's not gonna like you doing that..." She tells him, inarticulately.

Jimmy laughs dryly, "Aww, your boyfriend wouldn't like it? And where is he if he cares about you so much, hm?" He lets his hand continue downward, tracing the curve of her ass. She recoils slightly, much to his displeasure. "I don't think I should do this..." She attempts to back away from him, but his grip is stuck firmly in place, her body forcibly pressed to his.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disappointment, "And here I thought you were a good girl. I've been so nice to you, haven't I? You should be thanking me." He gruffly tells her, his fake compassion long gone.

Jimmy pushes her to her back carelessly rough, grabbing her wrists in one hand to pin them above her head. He utilizes his free hand to pull her skirt up, bunching it at her waist. Thankfully, she's too stupid to fight back right now, her mind barely processing what's happening to her, unable to understand the danger she's in.

He takes two fingers to rub her pussy through her underwear, feeling her clit twitch at the contact. She squirms ineffectively, trapped under him. "N– Nooo..." She whines, kicking her legs weakly, yet despite her resistance, her slick begins to dampen the fabric. He hums in satisfaction at the sight of her body betraying her.

"If you don't want it, why's this little cunt all wet for me?" Jimmy pulls her underwear to the side, uncovering her glistening folds, spreading them to get a better look at her. She whimpers, ashamed that she's enjoying the way he toys with her pussy, as if it's not even attached to a human being.

He pinches her swollen clit just to watch her jolt. She attempts to close her legs, but he pins down her thighs with his knees, trapping her under his weight and keeping them spread apart. "You're not gettin' away from me," he grunts, "Not after I've put in so much effort gettin' you here."

Jimmy unzips his jeans, slipping his cock out through his open fly. He's already hard. He's been hard since the moment he finally got his hands on her. He runs his girthy, flushed tip up and down her wet slit, making her whine every time he repeatedly nudges against her rock hard bundle of nerves.

"Y' like that, huh? You're all the same once you get a bit of alcohol in your system. Just a bunch of cock hungry fuckin' sluts." Jim presses into her hole without warning, eliciting a gasp from her at the sudden intrusion. "I'll tell you what, though," he hisses through his teeth, "You've got one of the best holes I've ever felt."

Jim rams into her, his pace already relentless, and he's only just begun. Her body jerks at every brutal thrust, the sound of his heavy balls slapping rhythmically against her ass, along with his heavy breathing and the occasional grunt filling the room. "That's all you're– shit– good for though, isn't it? This little pussy's the best thing you've got goin' for ya."

Both his hands find their way to her throat, squeezing uncomfortably tight. She tries to wriggle her way out of his grasp, or at least into a more comfortable position, but he firmly holds her down in place, supporting more of his weight directly onto her windpipe. She tries to gasp for air, claw at his arms and shoulders to get him to stop, but nothing works. Ice cold fear washes over her body when she realizes she can't breathe anymore. She can't even scream at him to get off of her, let alone speak.

"Sorry bout' this. I was tired of your fuckin' whining. You don't mind, do you?" He chuckles lowly to himself, leading her to believe that this is what he wants. He's intentionally trying to kill her. That only makes her panic more as she becomes lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, her limbs weakened and unable to properly writhe underneath him. Not that it'd help her anyway. All she can feel is his hands on her, cutting off her airway, lungs burning and eager for oxygen, and his cock pounding ruthlessly hard into her, bruising her insides.

Even when she falls unconscious and limp, her face turned a light shade of blue, he doesn't stop. "Better finish up while you're still warm, huh?" Jimmy huffs, fucking into her like he hates her, although he has no real reason to. "Cold pussy doesn't sound very appealing."

She's much more likeable when she's dead, he thinks. Quiet, laying there like an obedient little doll, her only purpose being to take his dick. He's not sure if she's actually dead yet, but taking the time to check her pulse doesn't exactly cross his mind.

He finishes inside her, a deep growl ripping from his chest, hot spurts of cum filling her hole to the brim. He finally removes his hands from her throat after he catches his breath, a ring of fresh, fingerprint shaped bruises around her neck. She's not breathing, her eyes still open, wide with the same fear she felt before he killed her. Jimmy pulls out of her with a sigh, like she's inconveniencing him by being dead.

"Fuck. You're gonna be a pain in the ass to hide, ain't you?" He grumbles, lighting a Newport and taking a long drag. "There's a... forest or somethin' a ways away from the city. That'll be a good spot for ya."

Jimmy himself is unsure if he's speaking aloud to himself, or the lifeless corpse laying on the couch beside him.

—

[wileys-russo]

camp champ II n.charles x reader

had lots of reqs for some niamhy content so here we have a lil bit of angst and a lil bit of softness camp champ II n.charles x reader

"your missus is out of control man." you looked up from your book with an amused smile as ella collapsed into the bean bag beside you with an annoyed huff. "whats she done then?" you chuckled raising an eyebrow and snapping your book closed.

"she is refusing to get off the table tennis unless someone beats her and her ego's the size of australia!" ella groaned dragging her hands down her face, her head moving to thump into your lap.

you were all at base camp in the central coast of australia, riding out the high of your first win in the knock out rounds of the world cup. you had tomorrow off so most of the girls had made plans to spend the day together, almost the whole team staying up late still riddled with adrenaline from the victory.

"go sort her out, please!" ella begged, throwing her hands up into the air as alessia joined the two of you, annoyed scowl on her face. "niamh?" you asked, wincing as alessia nodded frantically, frown deepening as she crossed her arms.

"she smacked me with the paddle!" alessia accused, ella moving off of you to lay on top of her now as the two of them looked to you expectantly. "y/l/n!" you looked behind you before you could even say another word, millie, rachel and hempo all charging over now.

"mate your girlfrie-" rachel started angrily as you held up a hand, silencing their chatter. "yeah yeah, i'll sort her out." you sighed, having wanted to get a good start on your book tonight with niamhs attention elsewhere but clearly that was off the cards, your girlfriend apparently unable to be left alone without supervision.

"she's relentless!" "she's a bully man!" "she's annoyingly good at table tennis." "she's not even that good she just hits the shit out of it!" "i'd like to smack the shit out of her!"

"okay okay! i'm goin." you rolled your eyes as all five girls continued to talk at you, waving them off as they all sat together, your book tucked under your arm as you left, heading down toward the rec room.

as you entered the sight before you had you sighing, shaking your head unsurprised.

a few of your friends seemed to be lined up waiting for their turn, esme stepping up with a hesitant look and asking your girlfriend to go easy, niamhs smirk only growing as she sarcastically agreed.

you winced as esme served and niamh smashed the ball back, the blonde darting out of the way with a yelp, dropping her paddle to the floor as niamh cheered, pumping her fists.

she clearly couldn't but you quickly picked up the tense vibe in the room, the unimpressed scowls and closed off body language of your team mates even further proving the point the brunette was doing a tremendous job of isolating herself with her cockiness.

"niamhy." you approached the table, not missing the way esme sighed in relief at the sight of you and a few of your team mates mumbled to one another. "mm?" the girl didn't even look at you, instead egging esme on to serve.

"think its time we head up babe, its gettin late." you tried, a few of the girls backing you up as niamh waved it off. "nah i'll be up later. i'm on a winning streak, the camp champ is on a roll!” the older girl smirked happily as esme hesitantly served, niamh once again smashing it back at her as this time she attempted to hit it back but it went sailing into the net.

"niamhy come on, let someone else have a go now." you sighed, feeling as though you were scolding a greedy child rather than your fully grown twenty four year old girlfriend.

"thats not the rules love, if someone beats me they take my place. and so far they're a bunch of losers!" niamh grinned, again missing the unimpressed eye rolls of your friends, a couple more of the girls giving up with a mumble and wandering off.

"niamh you're acting like a five year old. you've been at this for hours now, share!" you rolled your eyes, the brunette finally meeting your gaze as you raised your eyebrows. "fine. you beat me, i give up and we go to bed." she challenged with a smirk, esme very happily offering you her paddle.

"go on, shut her up for once please!" jess all but begged quietly beside you as niamh shot her a look before her eyes returned to you as you sighed. "mind this please." you mumbled to esme, trading her your book for her paddle as her body all but crumpled in relief.

"hey! wheres my support?" your girlfriend scowled as the girls all cheered for you, again missing out on the fact she'd clearly rubbed them all the wrong way tonight as you tossed her the ball.

"i'll go easy on you baby." niamh smiled charmingly, twirling the ball inbetween her fingers as you rolled your eyes and gestured for her to serve.

true to her word she hit it with a hell of lot less force than she'd been whacking it at the rest of the girls tonight and the two of you got into a rally, attracting the attention of a few more members of the team.

niamhs frown deepened as again they all cheered you on, and you recognized the competitive look shift into her features as you took advantage of her slight dip in attention and managed to score a point.

"niamh." you warned as she huffed, readying for the serve. ignoring you she sent it your way with some force, your arm only just able to shoot out and make contact as the ball went skidding off beside you, smile now returning to her face as georgia handed you the ball back.

"hurry up!" the defender moaned impatiently as your eyes narrowed, rolling your shoulders and serving, again the two of you getting into a rally before your girlfriend smashed it and you ducked as it bounced over your head.

"steady on!" you scoffed with a glare as the brunette shrugged. "can't handle playing with the big girls then hand the paddle over babe." she smirked, infuriatingly attractive as she did but you refused to be enamored by her tonight.

"pardon?" you gave her a chance to apologize, a few of the girls whistling and pulling faces. "your serve." she grinned, bouncing the ball back to you as you rolled your eyes. "take it easy, this isn't the olympics."

"if it were i'd already be top of the podium with the gold."

you only sighed at her cockiness, serving to her and not even getting the chance for a rally as niamh's arm swung back and she connected with the ball, sending it hurtling into your cheek with a smack

you dropped the paddle and clutched your face with a hiss of pain as a couple of the girls hurried over to look you over with concerned frowns, a nasty red welt already forming as your girlfriend looked on in shock.

"niamh louise charles!" you roared angrily as she dropped the paddle to the floor, eyes filled with fear as your team mates parted not wanting to be in your way. "go!" you ordered pointing to the door as her head dropped and she sulked off, dragging her feet.

"fucking thank you!" lucy groaned in relief, taking her place as esme and jess fussed over you. "ill be fine, just a nice little shiner tomorrow." you sighed with a pained smile, collecting your book from the tall blonde and wishing her and jess goodnight, hugging a few of the girls on your way out.

it didn't surprise you to not find niamh waiting anywhere for you, the girl clearly having run away in fear after her actions, likely already practicing her apology in your shared room.

"woah what the hells happened to you?" millie and mary ducked into the elevator after you, headed up to their own rooms as millie grabbed your face turning it side to side. "niamh!" you huffed with a scowl.

"she hit you?" mary spat in disbelief, fists clenching by her sides. "yeah with the fucking table tennis ball!" you frowned as the goalkeeper let out a small sigh of relief and you pushed away millies large hands.

"are we still on for tomorrow?" you asked changing the subject, not missing the look shared between the two older girls as the elevator stopped on their floor first.

"not tomorrow, we all need a niamh break she's been insufferable with her bloody table tennis and her attitude!" millie answered as the two of them stepped out and you stopped the door with your foot.

"what! why am i being punished for that?" you frowned as mary squeezed your cheek apologetically. "guilty by association. where you go, she goes. sorry!" and with that they were off toward their own rooms ignoring your calls after them.

your mood now somehow worse with your girlfriend having no idea what was coming to her you brooded silently in the elevator, marching to your room as the doors opened.

sure enough as you stepped inside her head snapped up, having already changed into more comfier clothes. she opened her mouth to speak but you didn't give her the chance, and she winced as the bathroom door slammed shut.

a hot shower helped to ease your anger a little, annoyed not only at the stinging tenderness of your cheek but also that your plans for your day off tomorrow had been tanked for a reason you couldn't even help or control.

normally had you stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel the taller girl would be on you within a second, showering you with cheesy compliments and attacking your lips feverishly with hers.

but you were instead met with a tense silence as you hunted about in your case for clothes, slipping on a pair of nike shorts and a large faded harley davidson tee you'd worn to death and back, always stealing it back from niamh whose closet it just so happened to accidentally appear in.

you felt a tap on your shoulder as you grabbed out your hair brush, glancing over to see your girlfriend offering you up her favorite hoodie with a hopeful look, you not having spent a single night all tournament not sleeping in it.

which is why she realized just how badly she'd messed up as you turned back around wordlessly, grabbing a jumper of your own and slipping it on, ignoring her completely.

as you brushed out the tangles in your hair you made your way around to the other bed, neatly made and so far untouched, you and your girlfriend having only slept together in the other bed which niamh was currently perched on.

you pulled back the covers cringing silently at the unrustled sheets but getting in none the less, punching your pillow a few times to soften it up and getting comfortable, placing your brush down on the bedside table.

your back now facing her niamh sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as you busied yourself with your phone, still ignoring her completely not having said a word since you'd entered the room around an hour ago, and it was killing her.

she waited a few more minutes, ticking things over in her head and going to use the toilet, flicking off the light sending the room into a dim darkness, only illuminated by the lamp on her side and the blue light of your phone.

you weren't surprised to feel the bed dip behind you, an all too familiar hand landing hesitantly on your side. "baby-" she started softly as you pushed her hand away with a huff. "i think i'd rather you yell at me and bite my head off than ignore me much longer." niamh admitted honestly with a frown as you resisted the urge to meet her eyes.

"which is exactly why i have been ignoring you." you mumbled, the defender perking up just slightly at the sound of your voice. "baby, beautiful girl, love of my life, keeper of my heart, owner of-" she started to grovel, eyes boring a hole in the back of your head.

"this is one situation that cheap flattery and cute nicknames will not get out out of charles." you warned sharply as her words fell short and she sighed.

"love i am so so sorry i got carried away. i lost my head and i was an arrogant cocky idiot, and unfortunately you were the collateral and i can't apologise enough. please!" she apologised with hopeful eyes as you sighed, dropping your phone onto the table and turning onto your back.

"thats one word for it!" you pointed to your cheek, finally meeting her gaze as the taller girl winced. "i'm so sorry baby, really. i can't say it enough!" she mumbled, leaning down to gently grab your chin, turning your head slightly and inspecing the fast forming bruise.

you stayed silent as she pressed a few very cautious kisses to the tender skin, running over it with her thumb as her eyebrows knitted together into a concerned frown. "if its still sore tomorrow i'm taking you to the medics to get it looked at." she stated more than asked.

"mary thought you hit me." you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as niamh's eyes widened in shock. "what? i would never ever! does she still think that? oh my god she's going to kill me." the defender squeaked in sheer terror as a small smile formed on your face.

"no i told her the only thing you assaulted me with was a stupid plastic ball." you sighed as she breathed out in relief, continually muttering her gratitude. "but your behaviour means i am now suffering the consequences in more ways than one!" you sat up a little more and fixed her with a glare.

"what'd ya mean love?" she frowned confused at your words. "you may been too thick to have picked up on it but your little i'm a superstar at table tennis routine has ruffled a lot of feathers niamhy, you have made some friends turn into enemies!" you warned seriously, poking at her shoulder.

"maybe i have been a little bit much." she admitted quietly with a sheepish wince and you only hummed. "and now because of that no one will let me hang out with them tomorrow because they all need and i quote 'a niamh break'." you bent your fingers sarcastically as her eyes widened.

"a what?" "yeah! i had plans and now they're ruined and its all your fault. dickhead!" you kicked her lightly from under the covers with a huff.

"m'sorry baby." she apologized sincerely, opening her arms hopefully as you hesitated for a moment before giving in with a sigh, shuffling over and melting into them.

you breathed in the scent of her body wash feeling a familiar sense of calm settle over you as she squeezed you tightly, laying the two of you back down as you got properly comfortable, your head tucked into her neck.

"how about instead i take you on a date tomorrow? a proper one. i'll organise everything!" she asked softly, glancing down at you hopefully as you nodded. "i think thats the least you can do. and you'll apologise to all of the girls at breakfast tomorrow!" you warned as she eagerly agreed.

"i promise i'll fix everything tomorrow and take you on the best australian date you'll ever have. may i have a kiss now please?" she asked with a small pout as you rolled your eyes, lifting your chin up as she met your mouth halfway.

the last few drops of your animosity and anger toward the defender melted away at the blissful feeling of her lips moving against yours, her hands on the small of your back flushing your bodies as close together as she could as you hooked one leg over her hips, moving on top of her.

the brunette sighed happily as you straddled her, tangling your hands in her hair and scratching at her scalp sending a slight shiver down her spine as her own hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging in and likely leaving a small bruise as she swiped her tongue across your bottom lip quickly taking control of the kiss.

now you sighed in pleasure as her tongue roamed your mouth, hands moving your hips to rock against her slightly as your forehead pressed to her shoulder and she broke the kiss, lips focusing now on your neck as one hand moved to brush your hair out of the way and nudging your head to the side giving her a little more room to work with.

“baby i’m so sorry but can we please move to the other bed? this is so stiff and weird it’s killing me!” she broke away with a guilty smile as you couldn’t help but laugh quietly, unable to disagree as the two of you quickly moved back into your regular bed, taking up your normal positions.

“cuddles and back scratches please baby.” niamh requested tiredly after she’d flicked off the lamp, shuffling her taller body around to press into you just how she liked making you smile.

“back scratches.” she mumbled again, taking your hand and dropping it on her back as she pressed a few lazy kisses to your jaw, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear as your nails raked gently up and down her back.

“my needy niamhy.” you teased softly, affectionally kissing her forehead as she whined, pinching your leg for the nickname, eyes already squeezed shut and you knew it wasn’t long before she’d drift off, having done this little routine with her for years now.

“stop teasing me, i just love you and i wanna be all up and close to you.” she grumbled grumpily, squeezing you tightly to prove her point.

“sorry baby. camp champ just needs her cuddles, hm?”

[nylaboon]

Hi there!

so, how about some headcanons of the PJSK boys as Shimeji? Those are like tiny characters that walk, climb and jump all over your screen, and interact with apps and whatever’s happing on your screen! Hope that doesn’t sound to complicated, have a nice day!

Lots of Laugh — FANTASISTA SQUAD

— headcanons: fantasista squad as shimeji

note: thank you for requesting!! this took me a while to make since i've legit never heard of shimeji before this LOL, but i had a whole lotta fun with it, so i hope it's good enough for you. have a nice day as well <3

Akito Shinonome:

dude, out of the whole game, akito is my absolute favorite

i can totally see him just sitting there and eating some sort of sweet desert

like if you have google open, he'd sit on the search bar and watch you type whatever it is that you're searching for while nibbling on cheesecake

if you pick him up and try dragging him somewhere, he will throw a FIT

i can just imagine him kicking his legs with a little text bubble above his head and it's just full of censored swear words

"$!@#*" etcetera etcetera

if he's just standing idle, he's going to be glaring at you most of the time

sometimes he'll pull headphones out and start listening to ken's music, just bopping his head

that's one of the rare times he doesn't look pissed off

he'll fall asleep for like twenty seconds

he'll fall asleep standing up or sitting down

you know those big ass snot bubbles that appear when characters fall asleep?

he'll have one of those

and it'll pop once he wakes up

Toya Aoyagi:

second favorite character

please don't pick him up and drag him, he'll get scared

he'll take a book out of his pocket and read for a bit

he'll sit and clean his violin bow

takes out a little console, like a 3ds, and plays it

will mindlessly nibble on a cookie at random times

sorry this is short, i couldn't think of much for him and i feel like shit for that

Rui Kamishiro:

downloading a plugin where rui can mess around with your device is like downloading a virus

seriously, he will fuck everything up

on purpose

'rui' is literally in the word 'virus' if you mix the letters around a bit

expect random mini explosions

he'll build robots in the span of, like, five seconds and only for it to break down immediately after he finished

he'll make various balloon animals

24/7 smug look on his face

he'll move around all your apps and windows out of spite

makes blueprints for shows

falls asleep and drools on said blueprints

he'll just let you pick him up and drag him, no problem

no matter how far he is from the "ground", he'll always stick the landing

he's just like that

builds a jetpack and starts fucking flying all over the screen

again, he's just like that

Tsukasa Tenma:

no shot he doesn't start doing random poses out of no where

every time he does a lil pose, a star pops up and shimmers

he trips over literally nothing

i can just imagine a bug pops out of no where and he just starts losing his shit

running around the screen with a look of despair on his face

poor guy

if you pick him up, he'll also lose his shit

because who are you to pick up the worlds biggest star like that

if you drop him from a high distance, he'll land flat on his face and stay down for a few seconds

fun fact: i originally put that in for akito, but changed it since it was more fitting for tsukasa

will move windows since they're "in his way" and are "trying to steal his spotlight"

multiplies into fifty different versions of himself because who doesn't want more tsukasas in their life?

written by @nylaboon

[junos-jrabbles]

Authors note, PT 2 to this ask, because it took me SO long and I feel like I need to do a lil more LOL, sorry if these are a lil unimaginative I do be frying

How would the mercs react to a new member with some questionable behaviour?

Scout

There's GOTTA be somethin’ up with you.

He's sure of it, absolutely COVINCED that someone as maniacal as you can't just be a good person.

He gets the whole “well, the respawn machine!” But he doesn't, he wouldn't go crazy like that, why would anyone?

He's a little nervy around you, gives you a funny look once in a while when you're kind to him, assumes there's some really blatant motive that he just isn't picking up on (there is none).

Shows up outside your room once at night, standing there with that ‘mom I threwed up’ stance just like. “Okay. So. What da hell is wrong with ya?” Hands on his hips, STARING.

“Whaddaya mean it's just a game to ya- pal, look at me, I'm the best player here, y’don’t see me rippin’ their arms off!”

Eventually gets over it, but it takes a while, he's just stubborn. You guys end up best buds and he shares his radioactive ass bonk with you sometimes, usually resulting in a ceasefire as the entire enemy line is annihilated, or you slam into a wall so hard you knock yourself clean out.

~~~

Soldier

Insert the Spiderman pointing at Spiderman meme here

First impressions? Is absolutely enamoured by you. You are on the field what he is when in his crazy naked honeyed up state. A force of violence and INSANE destruction.

Definitely tries to assist you by letting you rocket surf directly into the enemies on pretty much every respawn, much to the chagrin on your Medic, who really does just eventually stop trying to follow you.

He's SO ecstatic to find someone that's loco like him when in the heat of battle, but can be Normal outside of it! He's amazed, definitely asks you if you're American every five minutes, just to make sure you're not one of those nice Canadians (shudder).

“YOU. YOU ARE THE BEST SOLDIER IN THIS HERE PLATOON, MAGGOT! I HAVE NEVER SEEN A DRIVE AS HIGH AS YOURS, I THINK SUN TZU WOULD BE VERY PROUD.”

Sometimes he'll have a rough experience in a fight, and after it's all over, he'll come to you for reassurance and to talk!!! He definitely talks about you with Zhanna often, and you guys all hang out often for little chats over food n drink :)

~~

Pyro

You are one of the few people, who in their eyes, is always very vibrant and exciting to be near.

They absolutely LOVE your energy, your kindness is more than welcome at base, and they love being near you and showing you things they've created (upgrades for their flamethrowers, new melees they've concocted, etc.), and on the battlefield, they're following at your heels lighting the world around ablaze, watching the carnage bloom!

Really, really enjoys baking with you, they love baking and cooking generally, but usually it goes kinda poorly, because they can't smell too well under the mask, and tend to space out and lose track of time. Plus the burnt cookies are always really pretty.

You keep them on track with stuff without being pushy, and they appreciate it!! And sometimes you'll find pictures of really cute animals in library books and photocopy them to show them. :)

~~~

Demo

He's not sure if it's because he's seeing double, that the carnage seems a lot crazier than normal, at first.

Eventually realises that the mayhem in the battlefield is at your hands, and makes a mental note to stay out of your way.

That mental note is tossed away the second you come up to him, giddy with some terrible glee asking him to launch you directly into their front lines.

(He obliges, and is amazed at how well you stick the landing.)

Doesn't really register the difference too well, too off his tits to know if you're even talking to him half the time.

You'll pass him his dinner, lovingly crafted with all the food meticulously placed to create a little scene (probably bangers n mash gravy volcano, absolute scran) and he just takes it like. “Oooh, thank you lass/lad! Looks…” Swaying, trying not to drop the tray. “Looks some braw scran, ta!” Then he totters away <3.

Probably invites you to play golf on his slightly more sober days, goes very well of course! You drive the caddy, he hoots and hollers for you to run someone over (Soldier is on the back egging him on).

~~~

Heavy

Somewhat protective, but in a very physical way, where he'll try to body block the enemy from getting at you (and occasionally you from getting at them).

Asks you how you're doing… often, it's like when your elders are concerned but aren't gonna ask if you like, need therapy, he'll just go “Are you alright, дикий?” and when you go yeah what why he's just got his arms crossed, nodding, then walks away.

Is VERY impressed by you on the battlefield, even he's sure he wouldn't be able to tank some of the hits that you do. Your handle on adrenaline is completely spectacular in his eyes.

Would call you wild one, animal, beast, terror, but also throw in little sun when a fight has gone particularly well, proving your fiery fury!!

~~~

Engineer

Probably the closest to you, a little crazy himself, but sane enough off the field.

Highly appreciates your input on anything he's scrapping together, especially when he's tinkering with his turrets. Usually you drive the enemy into them like cattle, so polite questions and curious advice is always treasured.

“Now… I already got the wrangler shield, but that is an awfully good idea there…” Followed by various skeewiff utterances as he works out the kinks of the massive thing he's just haphazardly welded with a folding mechanism onto his sentry.

You'd bring him fresh baked goods sometimes and he wouldn't stop thinking about you for at least a week after, the way to his heart is through food and dear god you give him an arrhythmia <3.

~~~

Medic

Sick of chasing after you after about a week of battles, and eventually begins wondering if he can legally sedate you and/or poke around in your brain to see what makes you tick.

Finds it endearing, how anarchic you are in the heat of war, compared to how civil and polite you are outside of it.

His birds peck at their barred enclosures when they hear your name like they've been accidentally conditioned, knowing they'll be let out for the duration of his usual pacing and rambling session in his office.

“Oh mein Gott, das ist verdammt nochmal unmöglich.” He would absolutely SEETHE over you sometimes, but then you'd come into his office with tea or coffee and biscuits and bird seed and he'd be like oh. Oh you're just nice, huh?

You're the only person willing to listen to his excited rambles about human physiology and general biology, he'd show you vivisection research images, organs, all the sorts until he can see that you're a little offput, then he'll be like,

“Oh, sorry freund! Archimedes tell them it is fine, please. Zhe bird knows these things better than I!” And little mister ‘medes comes and settles down on you for a snug, probably nipping at ya if you don't pet him.

~~~

Sniper

Likes it, LOVES it in fact, he won't show it, but having someone who keeps the enemy's attention long enough for him to get a few picks has him giggling and kicking his feet (metaphorically, of course).

“Oh that one? Aye well… They're about as ruthless as a dunny rat, I'd say, bites like a blue ‘n all.” He'd mutter to anyone who asks what he thinks about you, a strange question, but he's an honest man.

Being a particularly distant man, you don't get very close, but sometimes on late nights when it's too cold for him to be in the camper, he'll settle down in the common room with some knitting going for a few hours before he feels tired enough to head to his room. If you get up for a drink and spot him, he's more than happy for a little chat when you come over and start asking him about what he's doing.

He tries to teach you knitting, which goes alright, eventually offers to teach you some marksmanship but you politely decline.

“More of a hands-on approach, ey? Well, can't knock it mate, seen you take down those blokes like they're nothing but jumbucks.”

~~~

Spy

Is always wearing his cloak and dagger watch for the first while of you arriving, hides in the choke points of certain stations and watches the carnage upclose, trying to stay as still as possible so as not to be seen.

Finds you very amusing, but like Scout, is incredibly sceptical. His curious stalking is not limited only to the battlefield, he often lingers in the shadows of the base just watching you. Mostly when you're cooking, making sure you won't slip anything nefarious into their food.

Does NOT buy any of the stuff you tell them. It's all a little on the nose, all this about working at puppy shelters, saving cats from trees, talking down burglars? Unbelievable, and he will not be convinced.

Does some incredibly invasive snooping, probably literally going through your stuff when you're out of the room, and never really truly comes around to see eye to eye with you.

~~~

General

After a while of you being amongst them, and everyone's settled, Christmas would come up, and much as it would usually be a very casual thing between the lads, everyone would be so enamored with the thoughtful gifts you'd get them.

Miss Pauling would be genuinely so frightened by you, she'd only really see or hear about you on the battlements, not so much when you're at your times of peak kindness. She would also probably not be very convinced by your alleged acts of kindness, but wouldn't be too bothered either way.

[littlemissclandestine]

Soft!Adler Headcanons: (Girl)Dad! Edition Part 2

⭐ A continuation of this post

He'd try his best to be there for any award ceremonies at school, sneaking in at the back just in time to see his daughter on stage. As soon as she makes eye contact, he'll give her a thumbs up and a wink, mouthing 'I love you'

I wanna say he'd be that dad who stands up and claps loudly, telling everyone that that's his daughter on stage. He's so supportive bless.

Oh and photos where he stands behind her and has his hands on her shoulders and smiles for the camera. Yup, quite a few of those stashed away.

When she'd have a presentation to give on her biggest inspiration and/or hero in her life, it would be about her dad. It would end up in tears for her as he'd be away...or would he? Adler would come in, standing off to the side, watching her recite from a piece of paper saying how much she looks up to her father, how she misses him etc. It almost brings a tear to his own eyes. Everyone's heads would turn and his daughter would run up to him, Russell scooping her up and hugging her. Missed you my lil spaghetti

During downtime, his priority would always be his daughter. No ifs and no buts. Even if he hated the idea she proposed.

One of those was testing makeup. Russell would always straight up say no, asking her to call her mother for that but when he saw how upset it made her, he'd sigh and grumpily sit down in a chair by her dresser and let her do whatever she wanted. -> "Jesus, kid, watch it, you always this rough with your friends too?" He'd ask with a chuckle as she blends the foundation. He could sit there all day and listen to her explain how to use each product and proceed to yap about whatever crosses her mind

When she'd put on eyeliner and apply it to his waterline, he was genuinely scared -> "Don't poke my eyes out, the only thing I got going for me. God, can't believe I'm letting you do this, missy." He'd pinch her side and tickle her.

As soon as he's allowed to look in the mirror, he does a double take, wondering how the hell he looks like such a diva but he downplays it. -> "Good job, kid...good job indeed."

When she hurts herself, he can't help but kneel down and help her. He knows he should stop and that she needs to develop her independence but it's hard for him. -> "Got a boo boo, sweetheart? Let me see. Aww on the knee, huh? Come here, let's get you cleaned up and get a plaster on it, yeah? Shhhh you're okay."

Baking with his daughter? YES. They'd make a mess of the kitchen for sure, not really tidying up as they go. Every time his daughter would come to him with a new recipe, he's out the front door with her in an instant, ticking off their checklist of ingredients in the store and thinking of ways he could add their twist on it

Her drawings would be on display with personalised fridge magnets that spell her name etc

There's a wall or archway where he measures her height every year and marks it on with pencil. -> "Heh, you've had a hell of a growth spurt, sweetheart. Would you look at that."

If his daughter was a trouble maker, he'd be that parent that would refuse to see what was wrong. It was self defense as far as he's concerned. He doesn't really need to do much of the talking. He's genuinely surprised seeing her stand up for herself, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile as he watches her rant to the principal. Did he teach her that? To not play by the rules? Guess he's rubbing off on her. A little worrying but eh -> "Put that in your pipe and smoke it." High fives as soon as they get back into the car after the meeting with the principal is over is a given.

If there's something you should know about Russell Adler, it's that he loves being spontaneous. One day, he might take his daughter out fishing, teaching her the ropes, the next they're at a painting class together, his daughter being impressed by his hidden talent or cycling in the summer during the sunset, Russell asking her what her goals are in life and telling her how proud he is of her and that he wishes he could be around more. Bonding time is so important to him.

There are certainly times where he struggles. Apart from the emotional side of things and his job getting in the way i mean. Possibly control. Like we know he has strong leadership skills he's developed over his career. I'd like to think that seeps into his parenting a little too much. He tends to ramble and tell his daughter how to do something and talking her through it, hovering over her even though she knows already and has been doing said thing for years.

Maybe it's just a part of him wanting to feel useful and needed. Still wanting her to rely on him even in her 20s or 30s, partly in denial that she's not that young girl who'd sit on his lap anymore. It really hits him when he's walking her down the aisle.

And maybe he'd be over-critical of himself as a parent and her as a daughter, especially since he sees the cost of mistakes in the world of espionage and the military

The only people that have seen his daughter from work are Sims, Woods and Mason and maybe Park but it isn't a regular thing, wanting to keep her as far away from the CIA as possible. Park had a shock when she saw him like that for the first time. -> "Never thought i'd see the day, Adler. You, a family man? Rather ghastly I must say but you do look happy."

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

when i met you (i couldn't measure it)

Ao3 | 2.2k Words | Treasure's POV

(A Firefigher AU one shot)

Over Solaire’s shoulder, a younger man stood, his cool, grey eyes fixed on you. When your eyes met his, his face split into a smile, all straight, perfect, white teeth. You flicked your gaze over his features. High cheekbones, perfect, light hair, a maroon suit that was fitted so tightly around his tiny waist you worried his jacket button would pop if he breathed too hard.

His smile gleamed in the soft house lights, just a bit too sharp.

__

Treasure hates opening nights. William loves the ballet. Porter bums a smoke.

TW: Smoking, shitty friends.

Lil ballet info for you guys: Treasure intentionally dances androgynous parts, ones that both male and female dancers have done in the past. They're noted as playing Clara's younger brother Fritz in their youth (a part I actually got to do once as a little kid) that is often danced by young girls OR young boys. In this production, they're part of the Mouse Army and they dance Coffee, which often has both male and female dancers. While they are noted as dancing en pointe, male dancers have been known to wear pointe shoes on occasion. So really, Treasure's gender is fully up to your interpretation still.

As another note, I used more modern names for the different dances ("Coffee" instead of the "Arabian Dance," "Tea" instead of the "Chinese Dance) since I fully believe that if you can't produce Nutcracker without being weird and racist then you just aren't productive. I saw a wonderful production in which the dancers were in costumes that mimicked the drink or treat they represented instead of loosely racist caricatures. That is the vibe for Treasure's production.

Opening night was always your least favorite performance. There was some vicious, clawing energy that you couldn’t direct, an unpredictability that you didn’t care for. When a show was well run, when you had danced it four or five times in front of an audience and knew the lines of the marley floor, what parts were raised and awkward, slick and worn, you could dance without thinking. That was always your favorite part of it, when your conscious thought could drift away and your body took over. 

Dancing was never about your brain. It was about your body. 

Nutcracker was a touch different. You danced it nearly every year, so the motions of it were never new, just distant enough to be unfamiliar. You had to settle back into the feeling of them, stretching across your skin and muscles. You danced the Mice Army, you danced Coffee or Tea or Peppermint. If it was your lucky year, you’d be tapped for the Grand Pas de Deux and dance your feet raw for six performances before the company went on break for the season. 

It was not your lucky year. A combination of guest dancers and principal promotions left you, the ugly duckling of Dahlia Ballet’s professional company, taking a backseat to the pretty young things that got paraded around in snowflakes. 

You hated opening nights, especially when said opening night heralded a visit from the Ballet’s biggest benefactor. Benefactor sounded very 19th century, but there really wasn’t another word for what William Solaire was to the place. He put more money into the Ballet in charitable donations than the rest of the donors combined, and he had standing season tickets. 

He only came once a year, though, on the opening night of Nutcracker, and took up the empty orchestra box that waited, empty for his return.  

Solaire was set to visit the stage before the performance, and your CEO and artistic director were busy entertaining his weird, rich guy bullshit. You could feel the nervous energy of everybody in the building as you ran through the motions of Coffee one more time before you were called for costumes. 

“He brought someone!” Bridget wacked you with her extended tondeuse, the box of her pointe shoe digging painfully into your hip. You turned sharply, falling out of your formation, and fixed her a pointed look. “Oh shut up, look! He’s hot!” You rolled your eyes and turned, distinctly aware of how little time you had to nail this before you had to move on. Coffee could be a challenging dance; languid and slow, mimicking the twisting steam over a fresh cup. Slow didn’t mean easy. It meant that every inch of your body had to be in your control. It meant that you didn’t get the forgiveness of speed when you fucked up. Fucking up wasn’t an option. 

You flexed and pointed your feet, rose up to releve en pointe, turned in an agonizing circle with your leg in a front attitude. Your shoe caught on an uneven section of the stage. You fell to your heel, raised your head to get your bearings to remember the spot. 

Somebody was watching you. You were a performer. Your body knew when there were eyes on you. You spun your head around until you saw him. 

William Solaire was talking excitedly to the artistic director, motioning to the set dressings with a light in his face. He looked trim and handsome in his tailored tux, and his eyes were fixed with rapt attention on his enthusiastic, if anxious, conversation partners. 

You looked to his right and found the source of your discomfort. Over Solaire’s shoulder, a younger man stood, his cool, grey eyes fixed on you. When your eyes met his, his face split into a smile, all straight, perfect, white teeth. You flicked your gaze over his features. High cheekbones, perfect, light hair, a maroon suit that was fitted so tightly around his tiny waist you worried his jacket button would pop if he breathed too hard. 

His smile gleamed in the soft house lights, just a bit too sharp. 

“Oh my God,” Bridget wacked you with her foot again, “he’s totally looking at me!” 

You turned back to stare at her, your face screwed up in distaste. 

“Jesus Christ.” You snapped. “Are you blind? Are you incapable of turning without kicking me? Should I just move a foot downstage so save myself the bruise?” 

“You don’t have to be an asshole.” Bridget pouted, crossing her arms. She tugged at the hem of her leotard, only serving to prop her bust up even more prominently. She waggled her fingers towards Solaire’s shadow with a grin before turning back to you. “You are such a buzzkill.” 

You huffed, frustrated, and ran a hand over your face before remembering that you already had your stage make-up on. You’d smeared your blush. 

“Fuck me.” You sighed. 

Opening night was always your least favorite performance. Bridget was a bitch, but she was an impeccable dancer. You fell out of a pirouette after four rotations that she took to five. She did lick you twice during Coffee, and she forgot during the battle scene that the toy soldiers and mice were only meant to play fight. You were certain the wack she gave to your ribs with her wooden sword would bruise. 

You hated opening night, but you loved Nutcracker. You always had, since you played Fritz at seven. You sat in the wings and watched the Grand Pas de Deux, counted the Sugar Plum Fairy’s rotations as Cavelier spun her like a top. 

Those fuckers. They were good. Better than you. So was Bridget. So was every other principal dancer in the company. You were falling behind. Plateauing. 

During bows, your eyes drifted to that perpetually empty box to stage right. William Solaire was on his feet, his face lit up in childlike joy, clapping incessantly as the principals took another bow. To his right, just over his shoulder, his mysterious shadow stood as well, clapping slowly, languidly. His eyes were locked on you until the curtain fell. 

Your castmates broke into laughter and applause, cheers and congratulations spread through the softly lit stage. You turned, popped en pointe to stretch out your right hip. Someone caught your elbow and spun you around.  

“You’ve got to get it together on that turn.”  Bridget bitched, her arms crossed over her chest. “You’re embarrassing me.” 

You blinked back at her, shock smacked across your face. The world of ballet could be a cruel, unforgiving one. People often spoke directly and without care for emotions, only results. It shouldn’t have surprised you when she decided to make her point in this particular fashion rather than talk to your director or find a nicer way to get it across. You could appreciate her being up front, at the very least. 

“New marley.” You said, tapping your toe against the stage. “New shoes. New show. I haven’t danced Coffee in like… three years. I’ll be fine tomorrow.” 

Bridget narrowed her eyes at you, her delicate features contorting unflatteringly around a frown. 

“I don’t make excuses.” She bit out. “And I don’t fuck up. So…” 

Another dancer caught her shoulder and she turned, falling naturally into the cheer and jubilation of the post-show. She only spared you one more look before disappearing into the crowd of retiring dancers. 

You made your way to the dressing room, only lingering long enough to snag your coat and lighter before retreating again. It was fucking cold outside and it was probably in your best interest to at least change out of your shoes before you went out for a smoke, but you thought that if you spent another second around everybody’s chatter and laughter and fucking noise you’d actually go insane. 

The costume for Coffee didn’t provide the most cover from the elements. It included a pair of sheer, flowy pains and a skimpy vest that barely covered your chest. You shivered as you planted your back against the back wall of the theater and tugged a cigarette from your pack. Fuck, you were running low. You’d have to stop on the way home. Of course. 

“Can I bum one?” A smooth, british voice called from your right. You jumped, alarmed, and turned.

It was Solaire’s shadow, the handsome, blonde man that had spent the entire night intensely staring you down. You were usually off put by guys that stared, but something about him didn’t set off the alarm bells in your head. 

“Its my last one.” You grumbled, pulled your pack back out. Your hands were fucking freezing, and you shook as you attempted to flick your lights. Thin, cool hands spread over yours, plucked the lighter and both cigarettes from between your fingers. 

“Cheers. You were wonderful, by the way.” The man smiled as he brought both cigarettes to his lips, lit them with the same flame, and took the first, bitter drag before passing one back to you. You pressed it between your lips, wet with his saliva, and breathed in deeply. It warmed you up inside almost immediately. 

“I was alright.” You sighed, smoke obscuring the stranger’s face. You introduced yourself, hand extended. He took it in his, but instead of shaking it, he brought your knuckles to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. It would have been corny if it was anybody else, but something about him was so earnest that you blushed, hot and high in your cheeks, up your neck, the tips of your ears. 

“Porter Solaire.” He supplied, stepping back and resting against the cold brick wall. He had a long, black peacoat over his shoulders, leaving his arms free from its heavy sleeves. Even though he had very little cover from the cold, he didn’t shiver or shake, seemingly unbothered by the winter chill. “And I mean it. I don’t give compliments lightly. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” 

“I was the weakest dancer up there tonight.” You huffed, tapping the filter of your cigarette against your lips in thought. “I’m not conventional. I don’t have the training that the other principal dancers do.” 

Porter snickered, looking down at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“Something funny?” You sneered. Embarrassment crept up your chest and into your throat, turning you mean. You hated that about yourself. 

“No.” Porter said softly. “No, it’s just… I don’t give a damn about ballet. It’s the old man’s favorite, I just got dragged along tonight. But every time you were on stage, I was enraptured. I have no idea if you’re a good dancer, but what I do know is that you’re… something.” 

The way he said something sounded dangerous. You wanted to watch his mouth form around the word a few more times. 

The back door creaked open. Bridget stuck her head out into the cold. 

“We’re going to get drinks.” She snapped. “Like… six of us? How big is your car? You can DD, right?” 

“I was about to leave.” You said, gesturing with your half-finished cigarette. 

“Oh, come on.” Bridget said. “It’s enough of a mood killer that you refuse to have a drink, the least you can do is come with. It’s opening night! Come and celebrate with us!” 

“It doesn’t sound much like they’ll be celebrating.” Porter’s voice rose up from behind you. You half turned to look at him. Smoke twirled around him lazily, languidly, twisting tondeuse and attitude turns around his sharp, pretty features. “More like… babysitting.” 

“Oh!” Bridget straightened when she saw him, puffing up her chest in her skimpy Coffee top. Porter’s eyes trailed over her body, but the light that sparked in his grey irises when he looked at you was absent. His eyes took on a sharp, cutting energy that made you shiver. “Hey, you’re with… with Mr. Solaire, right? Do you want to… come along?” She put on her most devastating smile, looking up at him through her lashes. Porter looked down at her, blinked slowly twice before turning his eyes back to you. 

“Do you have dinner plans?” He asked, his face and eyes lighting up. “There’s a lovely little Indonesian place around the corner.”

You looked over to Bridget, who was starting up at Porter like he’d spit at her. Her pretty face was twisted up in disbelief. 

“That sounds great.” You said decisively. “Let me go change and get this shit off of my face.” Porter gave you a sly, curling smile. 

“I’m not complaining about the costume.” His eyes slid to Bridget for a moment, as if to check that she was still watching. The corner of his smile quirked up as his attention fell back to you. One cold hand spread up your exposed ribs as the other snaked under your chin and tilted your face towards his. His thumb traced your jaw, those sharp eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he ducked down. 

His hands were cold, but his lips were warm. Soft and plush, you melted into the feeling of them. Warmth bloomed in your chest. You leaned into him, hand falling to hold onto the lapel of his stupid, fancy suit. Smoke passed between your mouths, acrid, bitter, so fucking warm. 

Bridget was gone by the time you came up for air. 

“Your friends suck.” Porter smiled into your mouth. He didn’t let you go. His cold hands began to warm on your skin. 

“Not my friends.” You snorted. “Coworkers at best. Take me to get Indonesian.” 

“As you wish.” Porter grinned.

[profound-imagination]

Before You Go - Fenrys Moonbeam

A/N: I’m so freaking proud of this fic I hope you love it! Also I’ve tried my hand at a lil smut so please feel free to give constructive criticism!

T/W: Maeve, Smut, Vision of Maeve & Fenrys, Angst, Death - I think that’s it! Let me know if I’ve missed any!

W/C: 5K

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

100 Years Ago:

“You did what?!” You seethed at the White Wolf who was looking anywhere but at you. “I swore a blood oath…to Maeve.” The words hit you like a physical blow and tears lined your eyes. “Why…why would you do that?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. He looked at you then, his face shuttering as he took in your unshed tears. “For Connall, the things she makes him do, Y/N, I can’t, I can’t allow it.” You sighed, heart breaking as you looked at the Male in front of you, your mate. Not that he knew, if he did he hadn’t told you, just like how you hadn’t told him. “He’ll resent you for taking his place, Fen, he came to visit, while you were gone with your elite force, he seemed happy.”

You’d grown up with the twins, your parents serving under theirs but there was always something about Fenrys, something that pulled you in. They were five years older than you and you’d put it down to a school girl crush. Connall hated it. He didn’t speak to you for 2 years after he confessed his feelings for you on your 18th birthday. You had just looked helplessly at his twin and he had known then, had understood there was something unspoken between you and his brother. It infuriated him. Connall had always felt lesser than his twin, who was favoured by their father and now by you, it seemed. “I can’t let her have him like that, Connall deserves a true and pure love, not this.” You scoffed, “What, so it’s better for you to be her whore instead?” You spat, his eyes hardening at your words, “Tell me, will you be allowed to leave her chambers? To be the warrior you always wanted to be or will you be leashed to her bed like the dog that you are?”

Anger rolled off of him in waves as he took a step back from you, “That’s enough.” He said quietly but you were so past trying to understand his reasoning. “Maybe he loves her, Fen? Did you think of that?” He scoffed this time, “Even if he does, she doesn’t and won’t ever love him back, she’s incapable of it.” You put your hands on your hips, “So what now? You’ve come to say goodbye? Tell me I’ll never see you again?” His face softened as your voice cracked. “You’ll see me again, but yes, I came to say goodbye.” Anger was still coursing through your veins as you said, “You better go then, your shackles on her bed are waiting. Goodbye, Fenrys.” You turned and walked away, you didn’t look back.

85 Years Ago:

The first ten years without the twins, without Fenrys, had been hard. You’d lost your parents to one of Maeve’s many wars, the twins' parents only just making it back themselves. They had taken you in, despite the fact you were an adult and your own parents had left you more than enough. It was like their mother knew this would be the final blow for you and she refused to let you fall into your despair. She’d moved you into Fenrys’ room, “So you’re here when he comes back,” she had said, “A mate's presence heals most things, even if they're not physically here.” You didn’t know how she knew nor did you ask at the time as you crawled into his bed and slept for days.

Fenrys sent everything he was feeling down the mating bond unknowingly. You could stop him from feeling your feelings which you’d been actively doing since it snapped for you but you couldn’t block his. The hatred, the anger, the sadness, the submission, the pleasure. It made you physically sick. Sometimes, when his emotions were particularly high, you saw it all as well, through his eyes. You’d never forget that first time.

Maeve on top of him, her naked form grinding in his lap. “What’s the matter little pup?” She taunted from above him, “Performance nerves?” He was panicking, you could feel the panic coursing through him, the dread that if he didn’t perform she’d bring Connall in here instead. She scraped her nails down his chest, “You really are pretty for a dog, Fenrys.” She crooned, rolling her hips again, “I can help you enjoy it and perhaps eventually you’ll learn to enjoy it on your own.” She leant forward and kissed up his neck, her canines scraping as she went, disgust shot through him as one hand wrapped around his throat and the other slid towards his cock. “Enjoy it.” She whispered seductively in his ear, “You want me, Fenrys, you want this.” She sucked on his earlobe and the disgust started to dissipate, replaced by lust. “You want to fuck me, to satisfy me.” She continued as his cock stiffened in her hand. She dragged herself up his body, until she had a leg on either side of his head. “Go ahead pup,” she crooned, “eat.”

You witnessed the whole thing. She had ridden him until she was satisfied and when he was spent she sent him away like he was nothing. The last thing you saw when Fenrys opened her chamber door was Connall on the other side, betrayal like nothing you’d ever seen written across his face. You’d thrown up until your body had given out and you moved out of his room and his parents house the next day.

This went on for ten years until you’d had enough, you couldn’t take it anymore, feeling what he was feeling, witnessing it. You had amassed the funds your parents had left you and ventured to Doranelle, for an audience with the Queen. You smoothed down the skirts of your dress as you waited to be called into her throne room. Fenrys was here and nearby, you could feel the bond coming to life and singing that its counterpart was close. A guard approached and nodded for you to follow him, so you took a deep breath and did just that. It’s for the twins, you told yourself over and over again as you rounded the corner and took in Maeve sitting upon her stone throne, two wolves sat either side, one white, one black, both of their ears shot up and their eyes widened as they took you in. A white tailed hawk sat above her right shoulder, a massive Osprey sat above her left. In one of the alcoves close to the throne stood the biggest male you had ever seen and another male with golden hair and tattoos.

“You asked for an audience?” Maeve asked, her voice sounded bored and uninterested. You bowed as low as you could before speaking, “Yes your majesty, thank you for granting my wish.” You said, your voice sounding stronger than you felt, she waved a hand for you to continue. “I have come to ask if you will allow me to buy the wolves out of their servitude? They are needed at home but of course majesty I understand they are of great importance to you so I offer all that I have, including myself, in their stead.” Maeve tilted her head in consideration. Connall was staring at his queen, but Fenrys, Fenrys was staring at you, a sadness in his eyes, a desperation telling you to take back your offer and run.

Maeve tipped her head back and laughed, she laughed like you had told the best joke she had ever heard and as quickly as she laughed, it ended. The Fae Queen leveled you with a look, “No.” You stepped forward, Connall bared his teeth and let out a warning growl that shocked you to your very core. “But, I-“ the Queen cut you off, “I said no, like you pointed out, girl, they are of great importance to me and this one,” she said, placing a hand on Fenrys’ head, “He pleases me ever so well, so no, girl, I’ll keep them both, leave.” Your mouth dropped open and Maeve sighed, “Lorcan, see our guest out.” The giant of a male stepped towards you and Fenrys whined his protest, “Hush, pup, get upstairs.” Maeve commanded and you were escorted out with a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’d made everything worse for him.

A knock woke you from a fitful sleep. You hadn’t even made it to your bed, you had passed out drunk on the sofa and you winced as the wine bottle rolled off of you and smashed on the floor. You’d deal with that in the morning you decided as you stumbled to the door and flung it open. A fae male with long silver hair and face tattoos stood on the other side, along with the golden haired male from earlier. “So she’s sent you to kill me then?” You asked as you turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving the door open for them to follow. “Drink?” You asked, pouring yourself a whisky and sliding the bottle and two glasses over to the other side of the table where they now stood. “I won’t fight you for my life,” you told them, “There’s nothing left of it anyway.” You said gesturing around the house.

The silver haired one snorted as he took in your home, “Wow, you really aren’t doing well without him are you?” The golden haired one hissed as he elbowed his friend, “Rowan!” He scolded. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m Gavriel and this is Rowan, we aren’t here to kill you, we’re here to help, sort of.” You raised an eyebrow, “Help? With what?” You questioned, “You feel him don’t you?” Rowan asked, “We can teach you to block him out, so you don’t feel him if you’re too much of a coward to tell him he’s your mate.” You crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re an asshole.” You told Rowan, Gavriel nodded his agreement, “An asshole I might be, but I’m trying to help you, do you know what she would’ve done if she realised what you were to him, to both of them?” You shrugged, “It isn’t fair that they are chained to her like that, it’s not fair to any of you, loyalty should be earned, not taken.” Gavriel sighed, “Let us help you.”

So you learned from them, well, from Rowan mostly, over an exhausting couple of days. Gavriel kept himself busy fixing whatever needed fixing in the house and tidying up so you had somewhere presentable to live. “Oh and one more thing,” Rowan said as they turned to leave that evening. He turned, producing a letter out of his satchel and you instantly recognised the scrawl on the envelope. “Keep those shields up, Y/N.” He said before walking out the door. Gavriel smiled kindly at you, “For what it’s worth, I think he regrets it, leaving you, everyday.” You sighed, “I was so mean the last time I spoke to him, I was angry and I didn’t mean any of it.” You said quietly, “I think he knows that too,” Gavriel said, “but I’ll make sure to tell him.”

You smiled at him softly, “Why did you both come to help me?” You questioned, Gavriel glanced outside and then back to you, “Rowan’s pregnant mate was murdered & I walked away from my mate and child because of the fear of Maeve, we don’t want the same for Fenrys, we’re quite keen on the pups and somethings Y/N, somethings are worth fighting for.” With that, he took your hand, kissed your knuckles and left.

You slid down the front door, pulled your knees to your chest and ripped open the letter Rowan had given you. There was such anger in Connall’s words, at you, at his brother. But there was also sorrow and a plea for you to never step foot in Doranelle again.

You spent the following weeks wondering if you’d be betrayed, but no one ever came for you.

50 Years Ago:

Gasping quietly you dropped the dishes you were washing in the sink with a splash, the bubbles splattering up your apron. You threw open the door to Rowan and the tall male you hadn’t met yet. “What happened?!” You snapped as you took in Fenrys hanging between them. “Move!” The tall male hissed as they shoved past you, “Clear the table!” Rowan commanded, panic seized you as you swept the table with your arm. “What happened?!” You snapped again and Fenrys groaned as they placed him more gently than you’d expected on the table. “He’s been testing the leash, stupid boy.” Your eyes snapped to the tall male, “Sorry, who the hell are you?” He didn’t even look at you as he grunted, “Lorcan.” You looked back down at Fenrys, “She did this to him?” Rowan looked at Lorcan who shook his head but Rowan answered you anyway, “Connall did.” Anger flooded through you, “Connall?!” Fenrys let out a wet, labored cough, “No,” he croaked. “She commanded it,” Lorcan drawled, “But he didn’t seem to hesitate or fight it.”

You watched quietly as the two warriors worked on Fenrys. Your entire body was tense. Fenrys had passed out 30 minutes ago, a blessing you supposed, that he couldn’t feel what they were doing as they were putting him back together. A shadow outside the window caught your eye and you stalked out the door. “You’ve got some nerve.” You spat at the Black Wolf who was sitting at the tree line of your property. “How dare you turn up here?!” With a flash the Black Wolf was a Male prowling towards you. “He’s my brother, I need to know if he’s okay.” You scoffed, “You did this to him!” You exclaimed, stepping up to him. “I didn’t have a choice!” You rolled your eyes, “They said you didn’t even hesitate or try to fight the order!” You watched Connall’s eyes shoot over your shoulder and then back to you. You felt Rowan at your back. “Are you here for you or for her?” He asked, his voice tight. “For him.” Connall snapped. Rowan nodded and beckoned him to follow. You huffed and followed the two males into your home, the tang of blood in the air.

They’d moved him to your bed when they’d patched him up. You had sat next to the bed, back rigid. Your eyes watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Around 3am his eyes cracked open, finding you instantly in the darkness, “Am I dead? Is this heaven?” He rasped. You rolled your eyes, “No, you aren’t dead, they brought you here.” He nodded weakly. “Where are they?” He croaked, you handed him a glass of water, “Lorcan and Connall went back, Rowan’s flapping about outside.” You told him and he huffed a laugh then winced. “Stop it.” You scolded him.

You’d brought him some food and stuck your head out the door to let Rowan know he was awake before returning to Fenrys. “How are you feeling?” You asked, “Why are you doing this? Helping?” He asked at the same time. “Because it’s you and I’m an idiot.” You muttered quietly. “It was stupid of you to come to Doranelle.” He said, “I’m not sorry.” You snapped. “Your brother nearly killed you today, he didn’t think twice about it, he just obeyed.” Your voice cracked and tears welled up in your eyes. Fenrys sighed, “It’s the blood oath, he didn’t have a choice.” You gave him a scathing look, “Get some rest.” You said, voice sharp and you turned to leave. “Hey?” You turned to face him, he held his hand out towards you, “Come here?” He asked, patting the space next to him. The bond was screaming at you to do so, to join him, to not leave him injured and alone in your room so you caved and crawled in next to him. “You know I love you right?” He asked into the darkness of the room. “Yeah, I know.” You answer, heart cracking because you knew he didn’t mean it how your entire soul craved him to mean it.

Now:

“What are you doing here?!” You span at the sound of his voice. “Fighting? We got the call.” You gestured at the battlefield that surrounded you. “You can’t be here!” He snarled, “Well I am! You snarled back. “Pup! We’ve got to go, you can fight with your girlfriend later!” Rowan shouted as he landed next to you, “Hi, Y/N.” You smiled at him, “Aedion is injured, get up to the battlements and see where you can help.” Rowan told you, you nodded at him and took off, Fenrys shouting after you.

You clung onto Aedion, tears in your eyes as Gavriel stepped through the gate. You’d grown to love Gavriel, he’d visited you every time he traveled past your home over the years, always stopping in for a cup of tea, you had your suspicions that he was reporting back to Fenrys but he’d become your friend either way. “Let him go, Aedion.” He fought against you, “He’s doing this for you, the only thing he feels he can do for you.” So the two of you watched as the Lion of Doranelle stood his ground as the gate shut him out.

It was over. It was won. You’d watched from the battlements as Fenrys delivered the killing blow to the tyrant Queen. Had watched them morn Gavriel from the outside while you quietly mourned the Wolf that was no longer with you. Aelin had approached you in the garden one evening, as you sat amongst the flowers, watching the sun disappear, talking to Connall as if he could hear you. “You’re staying.” A fact, a demand from your Queen, not a question. You looked up at her and she smiled, “Rowan’s not so good with the secrets.” You laughed as he huffed behind his wife. “He’ll need you.” You gave her a kind smile, “I doubt that, but if it’s what you wish for, your majesty, I will stay.” She gave you a look that said she knew she was right and turned to leave, “Actually, with your permission, there’s something I’d like to do.” Tears welled in Aelin’s eyes as you told her what you wanted, Rowan approached and smiled and put a hand on your shoulder, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” He said, Aelin nodded her agreement.

Fenrys found you a week later. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, approaching you in the Royal Graveyard of Terrasen. You were knelt in the dirt, hands covered in it. Flowers surround you, Zinnias for remembrance and goodness, Yellow Carnations for friendship and gratitude, Violets for faithfulness and devotion, Anemones for protection and sacrifice and Daffodils for rebirth and hope. “He mentioned you had become friends over the years…” he trailed off, realising that it wasn’t Gavriel’s grave you were kneeling in front of. You looked at him over your shoulder, and then moved aside to reveal a gravestone, that simply read:

Connall Moonbeam

Brother

Friend

Beloved

Black Wolf of Doranelle

A raw, broken sound left Fenrys as he crashed to his knees at the sight of his brother's grave and you were there, next to him, holding him. “I thought it would be nice if we had somewhere we could talk to him.” You told him quietly as he sobbed into his hands. “He visits me in my dreams, the first time was the night he died. He came to me and told me what had happened. That you needed me. I set off the next day to find Aelin, to help however I could.” Fenrys fell into you, sobbing into your neck. “He kept me safe, when I slept rough, he’d tell me to wake up, to move.” You kept talking as Fenrys calmed slowly, “He had things left to say to me, we both cried as he told me he’d loved me once but he knew, had always known I’d belonged to his brother, that I had to find you, that you’d need me, that after everything, he’d get me to you safely, the last thing he could do for you.” You ran a calming hand down his back, “He had a message for you, he said he loves you, more than anything, he forgives you for everything and he’s sorry for his part, he said that it was meant for you, the dagger, but it was too far and he couldn’t allow it.” Tears were running down your face by the time you finished speaking. “If I could change it, if I could take his place so he could be here with you, I would, in a heartbeat, Fen.”

Fenrys remained quiet for a long time after you had told him everything. He clutched your hand like it was his tether to the earth. Finally he looked up at you, his onyx eyes meeting yours and you saw the exact moment he felt it too, the bond. You watched it wash over him, watched him figure out what it was he was feeling. “You…you’re…” you nodded at him, “Yes, I am.” He blinked, “How long have you known?” He croaked and you let out a humorless laugh, “A long time, Fen.” “How long?” He repeated, “Since before you swore the blood oath.” You admitted, “You’ve known for over 100 years that we’re mates and you never said anything?!” You opened your mouth to reply just as Rowan and Aelin approached, “We’ve all known Boyo, it was fairly obvious.” Aelin elbowed her husband. “You’ve done a wonderful job on Connall’s grave, Y/N.” She said, “I’m sorry I never got to know him.” She said to Fenrys, wrapping him in her arms. “He’d have loved you.” Fenrys mumbled and you and Rowan laughed your agreement.

Over the following weeks Fenrys started coming around more and more. Getting to know you again he’d said. You’d cried as Aedion swore his oath, took his birthright and Fenrys had laughed at you, wiped your tears and held your hand for the rest of the ceremony. “Dance with me?” He asked as the Coronation Ball went on and on. You smiled up at him and took his had, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor and into the first dance. Your body fit against his in the best of ways and from what you felt, he knew it too. It was on your third dance that he seemed to throw caution to the wind and his hand left your waist to cup your face as he brought his lips down to yours. It was like the world had gone silent. He pulled you impossibly closer to him as his kisses descended down your neck. “Let’s get out of here.” He spoke against your neck, “Please?” You begged him. He smirked at you as he pulled you towards the doors.

The two of you only made it a few corridors at a time before you were swept up in kisses and touches again. By the time you were halfway to his room, you realised, he was carrying you, your legs wrapped around his waist, dress up around your hips, his hands on your ass, groaning at the feel of it, of the feel of your teeth against his neck. “Fuck it.” He growled three corridors away from his room as he pinned you against the wall with his hips and pulling the top of your dress down. He groaned as he took in the sight before him and ground his hips into yours causing you to moan. He lowered his head, kisses starting at your neck, trailing down to your chest where he worshiped each breast and nipple, the sensations causing you to writhe against him.

“Can you be quiet for me?” He asked, pulling away from your chest. You nodded eagerly as he sank to his knees, anticipation tightening in your stomach as he threw your legs over his shoulders, his head disappearing under the skirts of your dress. Kisses began traveling up your legs, “No underwear?” He mumbled more to himself than to you as his mouth neared to where you wanted it the most. His tongue licked a broad stripe and you jerked at the sensation, letting out a loud moan. “What did I say about being quiet?” He teased as he head appeared from under your skirts before going right back to where it was before. Your fingers scrambled for something to grab onto and settled for the of your dress that was covering his head as he sucked on your clit, waves of pleasure zinging up and down your spine.

“Please, please, please” you were begging as that familiar coil started to tighten in your stomach. “Please what?” He asked against your clit, the words vibrating beautifully. “Tell me what you want love?” He asked, nipping at your thigh. “Make me cum, Fen, please I’m so close.” You whimpered as he started his minstrations again. Two calloused fingers pushed into you and you threw your head back into the wall, his lips still sucking at you. “Plea-“ your begging was cut off as his fingers curled and hit that perfect spot and the coil in your stomach snapped and you and the world fell apart as your orgasam ripped through you. He kept going, drawing it out as long as he could.

His smirk was feline when he emerged from your dress and set your shaking legs back on the ground. You threw yourself at him so hard he stumbled back into the opposite wall as he caught you. You began attacking his neck with kisses, teeth scraping along his throat as you pulled his shirt out of his trousers and tried to undo the buttons. “Take me to bed. Now.” You breathed against his ear and he froze. Completely froze. His arms dropped away from you and his whole body was ridgid. You pulled away from him, realising quickly what had happened and your heart threatened to disintegrate at that haunted look in his eyes.

“Fenrys?” It was like he couldn’t hear you. Whatever memory of Maeve he was reliving had trapped him and you weren’t sure how to get to him. You had just began to panic when Chaol and Yerene walked down the hallway, “Get Aelin, now!” You snapped at Chaol as Yerene stepped towards him. “Don’t!” She stopped dead and looked at you. “I don’t know what he’s reliving and how he’ll be when he comes out of it, you’re with child.” You said more gently and she nodded in understanding, “Go with Chaol, bring Rowan too!” She nodded as she ran to catch up with her husband. “Fen, please, come back to me.”

Footsteps rushed down the hallway and then Aelin was there, Rowan next to her. Lorcan behind him. Chaol and Yerene behind him. You knew you didn’t fit this picture, this group. So you watched, back against the wall Fenrys had just had you against as the Queen of Terrasen pulled your mate back after you had failed to do so. His eyes cleared and darted around the hallway, he smiled down at Aelin and Rowan clapped him on the shoulder. Lorcan, Chaol and Yerene departed back to the ball as the Queen and King spoke with their Emissary, their friend & you turned and fled. You had done that to him, you were no better than Maeve.

“I don’t know how to do this.” You sobbed, “I don’t know how to be what he needs.” The gravestone didn’t answer. “I wish you were here, Con.” You told him, “It’s not right without you and I keep messing everything up.” You let out some more sobs as Fenrys’ haunted face flashed through your memories again. Twigs breaking behind Connall’s grave had your head shooting up & there he was, your White Wolf. “I’m sorry, Fen, so unbelievably sorry.” You told him as he prowled over to you.

He approached, studying you and your tears, then licked a great stripe right up the side of your face, which caused you to snort in disgust and then laugh. Fenrys huffed out a sound that you assumed was as close to a laugh as he could do as a wolf and then he curled himself around your back, and a contented rumble left his chest as you leant back on him. “I’m sorry I put you back there, I’ll be more careful with my words next time.” You said quietly. He huffed again, nuzzling his face into your side, a feeling of warmth, thanks and understanding filled your chest and you knew it was him. “Can we stay out here with Connall tonight?” You asked, he nodded and put his head down on a massive paw, leaving the other for you as you curled up into his fur. “I love you, Fen.” You mumbled sleepily, “I have for most of my life.” You felt the moment he shifted, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest, “I love you too.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

Connall Moonbeam smiled down at the sight of his twin brother and his best friend, curled up together by a grave that he was not in. It didn’t matter, they had honored him with it anyway. They continued to honor and remember him for the rest of their lives, especially on the day their son was born and they gave him the name Connall Gavriel Moonbeam. Gavriel clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked away from him, into the arms of the mate he’d been missing for so long. Connall smiled down at his brother and his family one last time and followed Gavriel and his mate into the light, there would be no more dream visits, he had nothing more to offer his friend, besides, he’d see them both again some day.

[rosie-read-that]

jamie dutton hot takes as someone watching yellowstone five seasons late*

*and having only seen 1.5 seasons

beth's s1 "you're only care about yourself" and s2 "you have no morality" speeches are more revealing about beth than jamie, and that is a hill i will die on as a beth and jamie enjoyer. he gets called out as someone with zero sense of self, but beth also has no idea who she is outside of "i killed my mom/i can't have children/i must live for my father until he dies." all of the duttons exhibit antisocial personality traits, actually, so beth bringing up jamie's selfishness and lack of morality is very pot calling kettle, and in fact, i would posit that beth hinges a lot of her identity on jamie and vice versa. that said, as much as they function as walking rorschach tests for each other and voids they can stare into and project the worst parts of themselves, i don't think beth has a single clue who jamie is as a person, neither does jamie know beth deep-down (the way rip does). they're too busy seeing themselves to see each other - therefore everything beth says about jamie and jamie says about beth is unreliable narration and i ain't no dummy, so i believe none of it.

i don't think taylor sheridan is this nuanced, but a lot of the fandom reaction to jamie and the response to him in-universe is because the world and also "the world of yellowstone" doesn't take kindly to weak men. jamie is incapable of pulling himself up by his bootstraps, he is the most emotional man on the show, he doesn't lose his shit in the rip way or the kayce way, the macho-adjacent "acceptable" way. he stares at himself in the mirror and ugly cries. he blubbers as he does a murder, then cowers when he has to tell his dad what he's done. he gets called a coward and a bitch and all sorts of emasculation-coded words, beth makes a lot of comments about him not having balls. in neo-western society, men like jamie are inferior, and actually the "acceptable" way to be a man is as narrow as evelyn dutton's "acceptable" way for beth to be a woman. sheridan isn't gonna do it, but i'm sure as hell looking those gender roles in the face and saying "not today, satan!"

kayce got to kill like half a dozen people in s1, he strung a man up from a tree, "disappearing" ranch hands is common practice at the yellowstone, so john saying he draws the line at jamie's one (1) murder makes absolutely no sense. if beth had been the one to strangle that reporter and yeet her into the river, john would've patted her on the back, handed her a drink, and said, "thank you, sweetheart."

knowing as i know that jamie is adopted kiiiinda gives me a lil bit of the ick in the way that some of the show's messaging is obviously conservative, and so john hating his adopted son puts a lot of emphasis on him not being a "real" dutton, not part of the bloodline, not pure. he's basically framed as another interloper, a changeling, someone who shouldn't be there and who the family would be better off without. this being taken off the table entirely when jamie is discussed is sus af. like, what loyalty does he owe john and beth (shhhh, lee and kayce, you don't come into this) when they've done nothing but heap on abuse? he didn't ask john and evelyn to adopt him. his education was paid for because john wanted a lawyer in his arsenal. so ?????

added to above: forget about being an accessory to the crime, if jamie dutton had decided to send john into the afterlife with his own two hands and a meat cleaver, it's what john would've deserved!!!!!

i'm obviously not excusing what jamie did to beth - being forcibly sterilized is horrific - but some of y'all act like he was a middle aged man when everything happened. i've seen age debates like "he was 17! probably 18!" and it makes me want to ben-affleck-smoke-a-cigarette if you think a 17-18 year old knows what the hell they're doing in a high-pressure, high-stress situation where you can't confide in a real adult, and also you're terrified of doing something that would create a headache for your abusive parent. beth shouldn't "be over" what he allowed to happen to her, but she deflects a lot of her feelings onto him because, mentally, she can't handle seeing her parents' faults. evelyn bears a lot of the blame here because using your last breaths to tell your daughter that she's at fault for your death is some fucked up shit, and also where was john????? where was the parent??? why was he not aware of his daughter's risky behavior!!! did he even bother giving her the sex talk? i think not!

take a shot every time someone snidely mentions that jamie cares soooo much what people think of him.... at john. take a shot at john, because there's a man upset that he's sliding into irrelevance and that his name doesn't open all the magic doors anymore, so if you think jamie is a big baby, well, he learned how to be a big baby from his dad.

i don't actually have an issue with jamie's emotionality or failson tendencies. moral failure? name one moral person on this show. i wish he had the strength of will to disown his family, gtfo of montana and be a lawyer somewhere else. my dream would be for beth, kayce, and jamie (and rip!) to realize what a bag of dicks their dad was and to burn the yellowstone to the ground before cashing in their land checks, but that's obviously not gonna happen, so i'll settle for none of the siblings dying, because having john and evelyn as parents was punishment enough, and in terms of crimes, i think they're all pretty much even.

yeah.... i guess it all boils down to "i hate john dutton." all the people who said "but i watched for him!" YOU WATCHED FOR WHO???? FOR HIM???? as a how-not-to-be-a-dad manual, right? ........right??

[entomolog-t]

Silly lil brainrot thats stuck in my head cause everyone's been talking about sizeshifters lately (AND I AM HERE FOR IT)

Just image a character looking for a roommate to help split rent, but their spare room is stupidly small. They put an add out, and get a few people coming by but no one wants that cramped of a bedroom, no matter how cheap they make it-

Until someone does.

They're frankly surprised- they figured at this point it was a lost cause but the person seems weirdly delighted??

Odd.

They are overjoyed at the price too- and character A can understand their joy- given the size of the room they were getting desperate price wise.

A week goes by and everything seems fairly normal. They put a lock on their door, but that seemed pretty standard when you're moving in with a stranger. They're clean, friendly, and pretty fun to be around- just a little forgetful, but who isn't?

By the second week though, Character A is noticing some weirdness. B doesn't seem to eat... They never see them cooking, theres nothing in the fridge, and they don't seem to go out for food either.

When A brings it up B brushes it off, saying they have a minifridge in their room and a lil personal stove. It seems like a good enough excuse until A realizes they've never seem them do dishes. Ever.

By the third week A is convinced theres something weird about B. They have to do some repairs on B's room and when they go in they're just in shock. It looks even smaller than before- B having put bookshelves along almost every wall- but theres no books in the shelves. Its all...

Miniatures?

Fantastically intricate rooms, ranging from something out of a fantasy castle, to influencer mansion type rooms. The longer they look, the weirder it seems though. The rooms are all connected- slides, bridges, ladders... Did they have a pet mouse or something??

Spying one room with a hamster wheel, A is convinced that B has the most spoiled pet in the world. Although... they never mentioned having a pet. Not that it was an issue, but A made it pretty clear that they should tell them if the have a pet in case of a fire or any type of emergency.

And then A sees it- or well, more accurately, doesn't see it.

They ... they dont have a bed??

Sufficiently weirded out but trying their best not to judge, A starts on whatever repairs they have to make, only to realize the project is not going to be a one and done job.

They let B know they'll have to go back into their room later this week and they work out a date and time-B assures them they'll be out of the house and will leave the door unlocked.

The day rolls around and when A goes to start the repairs they grimace. B forgot to leave their door unlocked. They really didn't have time for this. They give B a call, but it goes straight to voicemail.

With a sigh, they grab a credit card. It looked like a cheap lock anyways. Slipping the card between the door and frame they manage to bypass the lock with ease. It really was a cheap thing...

As they go to start the repairs, a little bit of movement catches their eye.

A small lump curled up under the covers of a massively luxurious bed.

Awe! So they did have a mouse!

and it slept under the covers?? Adorable.

It had to be pretty well trained if it didn't have any sort of actual cage? Maybe it was a rat? They could be pretty smart... though it was small.

Curiosity peaked, A pinches the tiny covers in their hand- not without noticing how incredibly soft and high quality they are- pulling the covers back.

A small hand rips the cover back, and they here a muffled

"Five more minutes..."

Eyes wide, they freeze, the world around them feeling frozen in this bizarre moment. A second passes. Then another.

The tiny figure in the bed bolts upright, head turning to A.

Their eyes lock in the most awkward dual realization.

"What are you doing-"

A interrupts them, holding up a tool.

"Repairs were today."

B nods, eyes wide.

"I uh... I forgot about that."

_____________________

I JUST THINK IF I WERE ABLE TO SHIFT SIZES I WOULD BE LIVING THE MOST LUXURIOUS LIFE

"BuT eNtO, DoNt YoU wAnT tO bE bIg?"

Yes obviously, but in this economy?? In the privacy of my own home I'll subsist for month off of 10$ in groceries thank you very much.

[buzzcutlip]

congrats on 100 maggie that’s amazing!! 🎉🫶🏻

could I request carmy with a single!mom reader and they’re still kinda fresh in their relationship and with both of their busy schedules it’s hard to have any alone time and whenever they’re trying to have privacy for adult fun time it keeps being interrupted by reader’s little one bc reader’s daughter loves carmy and they’re both going crazy but also love becoming a new lil family. I just keep thinking about how carmy would be with a little kid and how he’d take over the role of a stepdad-dad 😩

Thank you! :)

I would like to say that I love kids and I worked in childcare for years. However, I'm not much into kid fics - rarely read them and never wrote one! Your prompt got me thinking so I'm sharing my head canons about stepdad!Carmy (explicit stuff behind the cut!)

You're so scared to tell Carmy you're a mom because you've started having real feelings; it's not just fooling around anymore. When you finally share that you've got a little girl, you're sick to your stomach with nerves, worried about the possibility of being rejected or ridiculed. But Carmy surprises you—pleasantly—by not freaking out at all. He nods and asks a couple of basic questions: "How old is she? Who's looking after her when you two are together? What's her favorite Disney movie?"

Carmy does freak out—once he's at home. He barely sleeps that night, thinking of all the ways the "wrong" in him or with him could rub off on the little girl once they meet. Because he's a messed-up grown-up who has no clue how to behave.

You can't keep putting off Carmen meeting your daughter after four months of dating. You can't, and you don't want to. It takes a bit of effort before Carmen opens up about his difficult childhood and messed-up family. You assure him that it's not going to affect your daughter and promise him that you absolutely believe he's a good person.

Your little one is almost four, and she's independent, sassy, and loving, so she probably understands Carmy's hesitation and worries better than you do—without Carmen ever needing to say a word. She knows he's a chef—a cook—so she takes his hand and shows him her own wooden kids' kitchen. Carmy's eyes are huge and glassy when he looks up at you, and you hold back your own tears.

The first time you witness Carmy and your daughter cooking together (not in the kids' kitchen), your heart almost stops. You know how sacred the kitchen—any kitchen—is for him, as well as the whole process of meal prepping. They're just baking cookies, from what you can see over Carmy's broad back, flour everywhere, and he uses the softest voice on her: "You make a ball from the dough, that's right. Well done, chef," and "You got it, darling," and "Good job, good girl," followed by a high-five, your daughter giggling, clearly proud of herself.

That night, you ask Carmy to stay - the first time while your daugher is at home too - and he agrees, with a soft smile and a chaste kiss to your temple. You're a bit apprehensive about having sex, anxious about your little one overhearing something or waking up in the middle of it, but at the end it's you who asks Carmen for it. You beg him with your eyes, your hands and mouth, and who's he to say 'no'? The day had been emotional and the remaints of it hang between you as he fucks you on your back, staring into your soul, reaching there with his cock too. You're kinda trying to hurry up, Carmy thrusting into you with sharp movements that make you gasp out puffs of air between the two of you. He leans in to whisper into your ear "You're taking it so well, you would take my load so well, would you want another baby, hm?" His words surprise you and make you so hot that you come with a startle the next second.

Fuck, Carmy Berzzato wants a kid with you?

[yuri-is-online]

List of characters that i think smoke a lil weed:

Riddle. He needs to chill the fuck out. I don't think he'd be able to handle smoking though, physically or mentally, so like. Trey should maybe slip him a strawberry tart with some ganja in it

Cater. Let him find the will the live and spiritually high five Morgan freeman or smth idk

Ace and Deuce. Another day, another heart attack cause Yuu got into a situation again

Trey. Partially because we both know damn well how stressed he is on a daily, but mostly because I just want the strict "Rule Following Dorm" to just be chalk full of stoners. Never let them know your next move! 🤙

Ruggie. He deserves it. Weirdly enough, he actually preforms better at his jobs when he's high as balls (this is based on one of my brother's. He can't drive for shit but he can smoke a blunt and then suddenly he turns into a chauffeur???)

Jade. I don't think he would need it or even really feel a desire to do it; he just wanted to know what it felt like the first time he did it, but then Yuu shotgunned him once and now he's much more willing to smoke. Probably makes the best food ever when he's high

Jamil. Look me in my eye and tell me he doesn't need Marijuana like a white mom needs a live laugh love sign. You cant. He can't do it too much though cause whenever he gets high he ends up just. Melting into his floor and stares at the ceiling for the next few hours and he can't do shit.

Kalim. He wants to be included. Also I think he would be a crier cause Lord knows he needs a good sob

Epel. He'll do just about anything if he thinks it'll make him cooler, and in his mind, weed is pretty cool. It is significantly less cool when he starts coughing like he's trying to puke out his organs though.

Vil. I don't really know why, he just would. He wouldn't smoke it though. Probably just eat an edible, and not the normal ones like a brownie or a cookie or some type of sweet, nah. He's going for the peanut butter. "Vil why is your peanut butter green?" "It's made with pistachios" "Ok but why are your eyes so red" "it's windy out here". He's so good at lying through his teeth when it comes to this but come on! He needs a break! Let him do this or he's gonna bite neiges head off!

I dont think Rook would. I don't why for this either, it's just the vibes. Rook is staying sober.

Idia tried it once to see what the hype was about and started choking. He's one if those people who isn't affected by Marijuana so he didn't really do it again. Until those cotton candy vapes came out and then he tried it again.

Lilia. I don't think I have to explain this.

Yuu. They were the one that got everyone else smoking. The probably grow it in their garden and tell people it's mint (also inspired by my brother). They're stressed constantly and making out with their boyfriend doesn't always take that stress away, so why not make out with their boyfriend, but high.

Honorable mention: Sam! He's just cool like that.

Honorable mention: Chen'ya! Cause I feel like he would.

I know nothing about smoking weed because the smell makes me kind of sick so I will take your word for it that this list is accurate. I do know a decent bit about drinking vodka straight from the bottle so allow me to give you my list of people who I think would do that:

Crewel- i think he's a cocktail guy but sometimes he just doesn't have the patience. He also has a big bottle of absinthe for emergencies. It's been getting a work out with all the overblots this year.

Lilia- used to back when he was traveling the world, nowadays he prefers not to so he can set a good example for Silver. Probably sticks to weed since it's more natural

Floyd- I feel like he makes those toxic jungle juice mixes that you can't tell the alcohol content of for "funzies" but then refuses to drink it himself and just drinks it from the bottle.

Epel- again he thinks it makes him look cool. He hates vodka because as a proud citizen of Harveston he strikes me as more of a cider guy but he still assumes he looked cool.

Sebek- he did it on a dare and he hated every second of it.

Ruggie- he does the thing where he gets cheap vodka and puts it through a brita filter to make it better.

Leona- he is too lazy to get himself something better. Do you think he smokes weed or sticks to catnip? And if you asked him that how loud do you think he would laugh before trying to beat your ass?

Yuu- at all times they look like this to me:

[seventeenpins]

a little domesticity

pairing: Tess x F!Reader word count: 2.3k summary: You discover it's Tess's birthday. You decide you want to make it special. Tess fingers you while you cook her dinner. Same universe as Drive Me Home if you like?? content/warnings: basically just porn, no implied age gap, this is so domestic!!!!, established but new-ish relationship, lil bit of daddy Tess, fingering, very mild degradation, no outbreak or pre-outbreak AU, pet names (baby, honey), Tess works at a high-powered but undefined job a/n: For @ozarkthedog 🩷 Congrats on your 11k, and happy birthday Ozzie!! You've given us so much with your celebration, but you should be the one getting gifts! I know this is pretty extraordinarily late (sorry, love) but I hope you like it 😚

You are determined not to have to make two trips. Tess's apartment is up five flights, the elevator is on the fritz, and your legs already ache from the gym yesterday. You want to do anything you can to not have to go back and forth.

Three grocery bags hang off your left hand and two on your right, slowly cutting off any remaining circulation. A bottle of wine and a gallon of milk are tucked into your elbows as you heave yourself up the steps. Grocery shopping is a truly Sisyphean task, and the slog up to the apartment only confirms this.

By the time you turn the corner past the fourth landing, you're cursing yourself. It's so much. You know your arms will be aching, but of course you're stubborn enough to overdo it.

Finally, you make it to the fifth floor landing, and Tess's door is the third on the right. It's inelegant, trying to keep the bags steady while shoving your hand into your pocket to dig around for your keys. Your fingers are verging on numbness, and right as you move the key to the lock, you fumble and drop it.

That's the moment you hear the phone ring inside.

It sends you into a rush, and in your haste, you drop half the bags and still don't manage to open the door before the ringing stops.

Instead, you swing the door open right as the beep of the answering machine sounds, a bunch of bananas and a bag of English muffins fallen at your feet.

A man's voice chimes out, tinny and a little distorted.

"Tess! It's Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you well, and Sarah, too. I'll catch you later."

Then you hear the click of a receiver, and the machine stops.

You frown. Leave the groceries where they're sat and rewind the tape a few seconds. Hit play.

"'S Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you--"

You click it off.

He definitely said Tess. And 'happy birthday'.

So why the fuck didn't Tess tell you it was her birthday?

You know it's not really a big deal. Maybe she's just not a birthday person. It wouldn't really surprise you; there's a nonchalance that she exudes that sometimes throws you off .

If you're honest, though, you love birthdays. The gift-giving. Getting to make a fuss over your loved ones. And, you reason, if the Millers can wish her well, then it's probably not a sore spot for her.

More than anything, you've been wanting an excuse to celebrate her. Maybe this can be it?

As you prop the door open and begin to drag the grocery bags in, as you scrubbing the produce and putting everything away, you allow a plan to form.

It's been a long day but a good day. Work was a series of tasks that required some creative problem solving, and Tess felt like a fucking magician the way she'd been kicking ass and putting out fires.

Trekking up the innumerable steps, she felt suddenly lighter when she remembered that you had offered to make dinner.

From the moment she turns the key in the lock, she immediately starts salivating.

"Babe?" she calls, shucking off her shoes and shrugging off her jacket.

"In here-" you call back.

A moment later, soft footfalls are padding into the kitchen, and she's slipping her arms around you. She rests her chin on your shoulder and surveys the scene in front of you both.

"Shit, hon, this smells amazing."

You do a happy wiggle against her and start pointing out everything in turn. "So, we've got garlic tossed broccolini. Parsnip ravioli in that one, only has a minute or so left. I'm just starting the sauce now, so it'll be a few minutes before everything's ready, but you've made it in perfect time."

"Ugh," Tess groans, appreciative, "You spoil me. What's the occasion?"

"OH, don't let me drain the pasta water without saving some."

"I got you," she promises, sliding past you to grab two beers from the fridge. She notices when your eyes linger on her hands as she pops the bottle caps. "Careful, don't burn-- whatever you've got on the flame there."

With a shake of your head, you roll your eyes. "But seriously, is that a real question, or are you testing me?"

She frowns. Hands you a bottle and takes a swig of her own, sliding back behind you. She presses against you and wraps her arms around your waist.

"What are you talking about?"

You grind your ass back a little more and she puts one hand on your hip, but now she's smiling at you, mildly puzzled.

"Do you know what the date is today?"

"Oh shit, did I forget something important?" she detaches. "Did I forget our anniversary?"

"You tell me." You nod your head towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. "I'll help you out, it's a Tuesday today. And we've only been together six months. And you brought me flowers for that, like, a week ago."

She stares at the calendar for a moment and then looks at you. Looks back and forth.

"I--"

She's frozen in an incredulous frown.

"Happy birthday, honey," you tell her.

"I can't believe I fucking forgot. And how did you know?" she laughs.

"Hah," you laugh, "Answering machine went off when I got in. Your friend, Joel, he was calling to wish you well."

She snorts. "Fuckin' Miller saves the day?" Then she looks you up and down. "And you, baby, you've definitely saved the day." She looks over the spread again and notices the counter covered in flour, the kitchenaid with a roller attachment, a piping bag nearly fully emptied, and various pastry cutters. "Shit, did you make all this yourself?"

"The ravioli? Sure did. Just wanted an excuse to spoil you."

Tess plants a kiss on your lips and you moan into her mouth. When you pull apart, you're panting.

"Now," you tell her, suddenly serious, "I prioritized dinner and didn't have a chance to get you a present."

"Oh, hon, you don't have to-"

You cut her off, waggling your eyebrows. "But you do still have someone to unwrap."

"Don't have to tempt me, honey," she grins.

"Just let me finish up with dinner-"

She has a different idea. "I bet you can finish up while I open my present."

You snort. "Be patient."

"I don't have to be patient--it's my birthday."

"Tess, I-"

She ignores you, pressing gentle kisses down the side of your throat.

She know's it's a guaranteed horny button for you, and she exploits that weakness mercilessly. You have to fight not to melt. Even so, you let your eyes flutter closed, bathing in the sensation and not wanting anything to stop or change. She lets you relax into it for a moment, before bumping her hip against you, nudging you forward.

"Go on, baby. Better keep cooking. I'm hungry."

You let out a deep breath and snap yourself back. You spark the cooktop and place down the sauté pan. (You prefer cooking at Tess's apartment. Hers has a gas range. Yours has electric.)

After checking the temperature, you place a stick of butter in the pan. Tess runs her hands up and down your sides at a leisurely pace. Just her touch is enough to make you weak kneed again.

She passes you a slotted wooden spatula and you start to push the stick of butter around, watching it sizzle and melt as Tess makes you melt. You hear the clink of her own belt before you feel her undoing the button of your jeans.

Your pasta timer dings and the moment is broken. You grab the pan and are about to drain it in the colander you have set up in the sink, but before you can tip it out, Tess stops you.

"Hold up, hon, save that pasta water."

"Shit! Yep, nearly forgot it."

You set a liquid measuring jug beneath the colander and let the pasta drain, before taking the pasta water and turning back to the melting butter.

Tess's hands are back on you, pulling down your zipper now. She shimmies your jeans past your hips, kneading your ass with one hand as she trails the other from your belly button lower and lower and lower-

You start to lose focus on dinner and can only pay attention to her.

Tess slips her hand down your front and gasps when she gets to your bare cunt, hot and wanting. You're wearing no underwear, clothed only in the curls between your thighs.

"Naughty girl," she praises, and you swoon as she starts stroking her fingertips along your cunt, collecting your wetness and smearing it on your clit before pressing harsh circles into you that make you shudder and squirm deliciously.

"Don't let the butter burn," Tess chides, and you blink your eyes open, reaching for the utensil and moving the last of the unmelted butter around the pan, watching it start to foam at the edges.

"What else do you need, hon?" she asks, "Got all your ingredients?

You glance around. The sage is there. The pasta water. Garlic. Pepper.

"Uh-huh."

"Good," Tess says, "'Cause I'm gonna need you to stay put and focus."

A surge of heat pulses through you and you feel Tess's breath on your neck, a delicious sigh.

You add sage leaves to the browning butter, savouring the sudden aroma as the sage begins to heat, releasing its fragrance.

Tess resumes her work, slipping your jeans down to your ankles and guiding you to step out, all the while you stir the pan.

As the sage sizzles in the butter, she presses a finger against your folds, finding your opening, and eliciting a gasp from you as she enters you with two long fingers.

Finding a rhythm, she starts pumping the digits, pulling whines and moans from you, pausing only to let you smash the peeled garlic with the palm of your hand against the flat of a chef's knife and mince it a little more. You toss it into the pan and, once the knife is out of your hand, she resumes.

Two fingers become three, and as you splash the pasta water in with the butter and sage and yelp as she picks up the pace.

"Love those lovely little whines you make for me. All those sweet noises, that's all for me, huh?"

"For you," you agree, another whine escaping.

"Messy fuckin' hole, taking my fingers so good. Such a good girl, baby," she praises, and you don't realise she's not referring to you until she says, "Look at her, gettin' all puffy and wrecked."

You let out another sound, this one closer to a growl. You can feel yourself beginning to drip down her hand as she fucks her digits into you, pressing into you so nicely, working you open, making your knees quake.

"Sweet little pussy opening right up for me. Think she can take another?

"Fuck, daddy, please-"

Trying to keep stirring while she works on you is a near impossibility. With a focus that can't be anything less than witchcraft, she smacks your cheek while you're moaning, eyes closed and keening.

"Don't let it burn," she scolds, and your eyes snap back open.

The sauce has started to thicken, and you turn down the flame so you can take a moment to grind yourself deeper onto Tess's hand.

"Wanna put on the strap?" you ask. "Want me to put on the strap?"

"I'd take either," she admits with a laugh, "But the dishwasher's running."

"Fuck."

"Did you just put the cycle on?"

"Yep. Are our dicks in the dishwasher?"

"Our dicks are in the dishwasher."

You let out a whine. She just maintains her pace and rubbing a fingertip in blinding, tight circles around your clit.

"Poor baby," she teases, "I barely have to play with you and your cute lil hole soaks me like a fuckin' whore. You're so fucking easy."

"Hnnnggg-"

"My pretty little slut. Just gotta give me one, baby, just one and I'll let you finish dinner."

Another whine.

"C'mon, honey, I feel you gettin' close. Clenchin' on daddy's fingers. Fuck, cum for me baby, let me feel you-"

She reaches around you and turns off the flame, the fingers of her other hand pumping faster and rougher. You're bent forward, gripping the counter for support, as you feel yourself start to tip over.

"Fuuuuckkk-" you cum with a cry, Tess's fingers working you through it as her other hand wraps around your waist, steadying you. You hear the splash of your release against the laminate floor as she keeps going, pumping her fingers fast and deep, hitting just the right spot, dragging your orgasm out longer than you knew yourself capable of.

It takes a couple of minutes, coming back down. You feel your slick cooling on your thighs and turn around to see Tess leaning against the hallway behind you, grinning wickedly as she licks her fingers one by one.

"You're gonna be the death of me," you tell her, and she slides back behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Not allowed to die. It's my birthday."

"Hmmph," you roll your eyes and begin to plate up.

The groan Tess lets out as she takes her first bite is more than worth it.

"Fucking fuck, honey, I mean- holy shit this is so good."

You grin. "Glad you like it."

"I know what I'm having for dessert," Tess smirks, waggling her eyebrows.

"Yeah," you agree, "I made you a tart."

"You're my tart."

You roll your eyes again. "I am, but I made one special for you. Dessert first, then you can eat me as much as you like."

Tess nods solemnly before breaking into another grin. "Thank you honey."

"Happy birthday, baby."

[cinnamon-stixs]

Sinsmas came out, and I bawled. here's me yapping about it.

-Blitz put horses EVERYWHERE to try and make Stolas happy

-Stolas was asking for his antidepressants. keep in mind he goes this whole episode, which takes place over the course of a month, completely unmedicated.

-Blitz asking what he eats :(. Then Stolas's rich ass.

-Stella fucking GRAB'S VIAS PHONE. GOD I WANT TO KILL THAT BITCH. THEY SIT THEIR AND LAUGH ABOUT HIM WANTING TO TALK TO HIS DAUGHTER IT MAKES ME SO. FUCKING. ANGRY.

-Imps still hate Stolas. Also bro has NO life skills whatsoever

-She straight up spits in his coffee, no remorse. Queen honestly.

-New fit!! this is so much better than that dumbass romper

-Blitz catching rats for him :((

-"No, this is how I act when I don't have money! :D"

-I absolutely adore the concept of sinsmas btw. Also, notice how both Moxxie and Blitz act on wrath, rather than greed (where they were both raised). Interesting lil detail

-Of course Blitz would set the apartment on fire

-Loona acting like me fr

-Millie and Moxxie fighting heheheee

-He's so concerned lmaooo??

-Whiteboard! My fave is the 'days since moxie sang' counter.

-Loona's opened up so much I love her QmQ

-"I'm poor now!" I love you Stolas but holy shit you privileged ass baby.. At least yall can afford to feed everyone in your house

-God Blitz is so in love

-Stolas is GOING THROUGH IT with these parallels

-Blitz trying to defend cheating 💀💀

-Homophobic cunt

-Mammon tree topper

-They're STILL laughing about Stolas trying to call Via. Have they kept her phone from her this whole time?

-She didn't hear them say he'd been trying to call. She took her earbuds out AFTERWARDS. As far as Via knows, he only called once.

-Stolas was the one who got her the guitar

-Via's song goes so hard, but what happened to her accent??

-The parallels in Via's song and the one Stolas sang to her in ep 2 make me wanna cry

-Btw Via is COMPLETELY justified in how she feels, and her decision to not forgive Stolas.

-"I'll just get older and you'll only know my name" Holy fuck that line goes hard

-I THOUGHT SHE WAS GONNA ATTEMPT.

-"Well here's an idea, You could shut the fuck up!"

-Me I fear

-She sits down with stolas's diary I can't

-I thought the bit of her throwing up as weird as hell. But, foreshadowinggg

-What if this was my 13th reason.

-"Didn't make me wet AT ALL"

-The scream as she flies out the window is delightful

-Blitz immediately knows stolas went to look for Via

-GET HIS ASS

-"Get your icy hands off my bottom, bitch!"

-Dude what the hell did he say?!

-GET. HIS. ASS!!

-"fuck yes! :D"

-Loona and Moxxie working together :(((

-This action scene is so fucking cool

-"High five!!" DUMBASS?!

-Im gonna kms they're so cute

-VIA!

-She doesn't hug her father back.

-She thought him needing the antidepressants was her fault I'm actually gonna do it this time.

-Although Via won't talk to Stolas, she still saved him. She loves her dad, but she's rightfully angry. It'll take time to rebuild that trust.

-FUCK.

-Blitz relaxes. Stolas doesn't.

-God what a cutie

-MOXXIES FACE HSDHSJHDJSIJ

-I knew immediately in the bathroom scene what was up with Millie

-Im really excited to see the pregnant millie plotline actually. Judging by her reaction, she's not sure if she wants to keep it.

-STOLAS'S SOFT LITTLE LAUGH AUGH IM CRYING

-He doesn't hug Blitz back.

-Xmas song at the end goes hard.

Overall, this episode was AMAZING. The writing was great, the emotional moments hit hard, the animation was great as usual, and the pacing was good, if not a bit clunky. What a great end to the season.

I think i'll go call my dad.