#and one of his best features is arm. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[gwynbleiddyn]

D Y N ☼ WOOD ELF ☼ HUNTER ☼ LYCAN

a reclusive outlander with a terrible knack for survival against all odds, including and especially in relation to the presence of wolves, of both the dire and lycanthrope variety.

#bg3 tav #bg3 oc #baldurs gate 3 #dyn is such a brainworm. he's so boring and uncharismatic. i could get a better conversation from a teaspoon. IM OBSESSED WITH HIM. #this is how i imagine astarion feels about him also #and halsin clocked dyn's constant struggle to accept civilization for what it is and said 'this one' #so now dyn sleeps comfortably wedged between angry vampire and despairing bear. the rituals are intricate and unknowable. #and one of his best features is arm. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[abubblingcandle]

For word Wednesday:

Profesional, child, genius, and/or tactic

Thank you so much!! Words really help get the juices flowing 💕

Professional and Tactic - from The Richmond Job Ch3

“Well he’s coming over so he better not recognise you,” Keeley hissed, placing a vapid smile back onto her face and resting a hand gently on the small of Roy’s back. “Ah Mr Mannion these are the reporters I told you about. The ones doing the feature on Sam Obisanya,” Cartrick gestured vaguely towards Keeley and Roy. “Be polite, nice to them,” Ted prompted. “But not too nice. You don’t want Mannion to get suspicious or for Crimm to become hostile,” Rebecca argued. “Crimm doesn’t seem the type to get hostile, pleasantness is the way forward,” Ted argued back. “Who is the professional here Theodore?” Rebecca chirped, her voice cheery but noticeably irritated. “Hi, my name is Annie. Pleasure’s all mine,” Keeley declared loudly over the bickering only her and Roy could hear. She turned to look at Roy who was doing a very good impression of a livid wax work with the shade of red that was starting on his neck and the intense glare focused on Trent Crimm. “And this is Conrad. We promise we won’t be getting in your way Mr Crimm. Hopefully we can work together,” Keeley elbowed Roy, staring at him with daggers in her eyes and mentally willing Roy to play along. The elbow stirred Roy awake but from the look in his eyes, Keeley was regretting that decision. “I will not talk to this living piece of excrement, and neither will you!” Roy yelled, prodding his finger into Trent’s chest and pushing past him to head towards Sam. “Nice to meet you,” Keeley laughed awkwardly before jogging after Roy. “Well that went well,” Jamie commented under his breath. “Someone smack Tartt around the head for me,” Roy growled. There was a beat of silence from the HQ as Keeley caught up with Roy. “Ow Beard what the fuck!” Jamie squawked. That brought a little smile to Roy’s face and calmed the steam that was about to come out of his ears. “Well Roy that was certainly an unorthodox tactic but I’m sure we can work with it,” Ted laughed, shrilly and awkwardly. The smile dropped back off Roy’s face, “I was not lying. I will not talk to Trent Crimm and neither will Keeley.”

Child - from A Treatment Room Doors Moment Ch5

Roy hadn’t yet worked out if Jamie was a great babysitter or just the older child you trusted to watch your younger child and hoped for the best. Sitting down for a while, as Jamie and Phoebe bounded around the Pleasure Beach with endless energy, did wonders for his mood and his knee. He was making great progress on his book, had a nice coffee to keep him warm and got to see Phoebe happy. “Look Uncle Roy look! Jamie won me a toy!” Phoebe screeched as she approached at gale force speed. Roy turned slowly and then leveled the bashful Jamie Tartt with a glare. The elephant soft toy was as big as Phoebe and she was having to carry it with her arms around it’s waist and held at her eyeline to avoid it dragging on the floor. “Did he now?” Roy stated, mentally stabbing Tartt in some very private places. Ruth was going to kill him when he rocked up back in London with Phoebe and this thing.

Genius - from Snap Ch8

“Smart ain’t it?” Jamie beamed. Beard actually took the time, for the first time on this trip to look at Jamie. The end of the season had come and Jamie had wound himself back into a tight little elastic band ball, ready to snap at the first display of outward pressure. He had come back from his trip with his mum and stepdad, laden with wine and stories of how great a time they had but still with that tension at his core. Now as they laid on a rock staring out over the ocean as the sun set, Jamie looked free. His smile was genuine, his shoulders loose and his ideas stupid. Just how it should be. “A real modern day genius,” Beard stated, somehow managing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

#candle writes #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt #roy kent #coach beard #keeley jones #rebecca welton #ted lasso #trent crimm #atrdm tag #snap tag #leverage au

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

story page | talk to me/join the tag list | the playlist

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PART 20

“So exciting, really, congratulations!”

“Thank you so much,” you smoothed out your skirt, adjusted on the sofa across from James Corden. “I really did not think I was going to win. I was telling everyone all night, there was no way! I didn’t believe it.”

“You didn’t believe it?” He asked, the audience chuckled.

“No! I mean--I’m very proud of my album and the music I put out but there were so many amazing nominees, I just--I don’t know, I thought my night was over.”

“You must have gone out though, afterwards, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yeah--we went to a party that my publishing company hosted, actually.”

“You and your date, Jason Sudeikis,” James smiled. 

You laughed when the audience clapped at his name. “That’s the one, yeah.”

“Talk about a surprising couple--I don’t think any of us saw that coming and now it’s something that makes so much sense, people adore the two of you.”

The audience cheered, you laughed and admitted: “I don’t think we saw it coming either, I did not expect it at all. Wouldn’t change it though, he’s amazing.”

“You were in London with him this spring, right? You’ve been out there?”

“I have, yeah, we’ve been living out there while he films the third season of Ted Lasso--”

Another eruption of excitement from the crowd. 

“What an amazing show,” James said seriously. “Do they all know they’ve struck gold?”

“They do,” you nodded, “I think, in a super humble way. And mostly because I tell them all the time--it’s so good.”

James nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. “You actually brought Jason here with you, today, right? He’s backstage?”

“He is,” you confessed, a hint of suspicion on your features when he laughed. “He’s back there somewhere.”

“Well we had a fun idea--can we bring Jason out? We talked to him earlier!”

The crowd stood and applauded, you laughed when James stood and Jason walked out from behind the same curtain you’d hid behind only ten minutes earlier. He waved at the crowd, his outfit more casual than yours when he came to sit beside you on the couch. 

He slung an arm around your shoulder after he hugged James, pressed a kiss to the side of your head when you looked up at him. 

“I’m nervous,” you said, a glance between him and James.

“Nervous?” James asked, the audience laughed. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Something about the two of you conspiring behind my back--”

“Conspiring?” Jason asked, cutting you off. “That feels like an aggressive word to use!”

“No, we--we actually did conspire,” James admitted, a boisterous laugh when the audience joined in. 

“Yeah,” Jason nodded. “We did, one-hundred percent.”

“We decided it would be fun to bring Jason out and play a game--are you up for that?”

As if there was a way to get out of it now. “I will give anything a shot, I guess” you shrugged, legs still crossed on the sofa. 

“Okay,” James stood, “so come over here, we’ve got two seats for you. We had the help of both of your wonderful assistants to help with this, alright? This is a game we’re calling Who Knows Who?”

“Oh boy,” Jason followed over, took his seat on a stool as you climbed up and did the same. “Really creative name,” he teased James.

“Yeah--we’re running out of creativity here,” he rolled his eyes.

You took the seat beside Jason and let out a breath--how bad could it be?

“We figured: who knows you both better than your assistants?” James explained, a smile in your direction before he turned back to the camera. “So we asked them to give answers to questions about the two of you, and you’re each competing against the other’s assistant.”

“Oh god,” you laughed. “You’re not gonna beat Mia!”

“No,” Jason shook his head seriously. “I probably won’t.”

“We have these for you--here you go,” James handed you both paddles, green, true on one side, red, false on the other. “We do have videos, so Y/N, you’re up first. Are you ready?”

“No,” you mimicked Jason from a second ago, a laugh up at James. “But I will do my best.”

“Good, alright--first up: Jason was born in 1975.”

“Yes--true!” you flipped the paddle around to have the green side showing, the audience applauded when Jason nodded. 

On the screen behind you a video of Cara appeared--webcam quality as she read the same question from the screen. “Uh, yes--yeah, I think so--sounds right to me,” she pushed her glasses up on her nose and a bell dinged in the studio, correct!

“That feels like an easy start,” he commented.

“They increase in difficulty as we go,” James laughed. “Don’t worry. Next one: Jason has been in over 30 movies.”

“Oh huh,” you thought out loud for a second. You stole a look over at Jason.

“Don’t look at me like I’m gonna tell you,” he laughed, the audience followed suit. 

“I’m not! That feels like a lot though,” you looked back to James. 

He nodded, watching you with intrigue, “It does feel like a lot…”

“I’m saying false.”

“Alright, let’s see what Cara said,” James motioned back to the screen. 

“I think that’s true,” she talked to herself with a nod. “I know he’s done over ten since I started working with him, so--I’m gonna go with true for that one.”

You let out a groan, Jason laughed when James laughed at the buzzer noise, wrong! 

“Okay, alright, Cara, two, Y/N, one--let’s see: Jason’s go-to starbucks order is a caramel latte.”

You held up the paddle, “that’s true, I’m pretty sure. I know he likes them.”

The video played again, Cara nodded with confidence. “As the person who gets that for him a lot, yes, 100% true.” She cheered for herself in the pre-tape when the answer was revealed on her laptop. 

“Alright,” James smiled. “Last one for you, Jason never leaves the house without his a deck of cards.”

“True,” you nodded quickly, “I’ve been a victim of far too many mediocre magic tricks.”

“They’re not mediocre,” Jason defended. “They’re just bad, terrible, really.”

The audience laughed at the banter between the two of you, James smiled when he flipped to a new card of questions. “Jason--she got three of four right, that’s pretty good.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Seventy-five percent, that’s not bad.”

“Do you think you can beat it?”

“Uh,” he laughed. “I don’t know--we’ll have to see.” He turned to you and reached his hand for yours. “Don’t break up with me if I suck.”

“No promises,” you smiled, just to make the audience laugh. 

“Alright, alright--first one: Y/N grew up in New Jersey.”

“Uh, yep,” he flipped his paddle to the green side. “True. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve seen New Jersey?” James teased.

“I have,” Jason nodded, “and her parents' house.”

“Alright,” James turned to the screen. This time, Mia read the question off of her laptop, you recognized her living room and smiled at the sight of your assistant/friend. 

“She did,” Mia nodded in the pre-tape. “Northern Jersey, she would correct you on that, but yes. True!”

You nodded at Mia’s words--North Jersey, to be exact! The audience clapped when Jason pumped his fist in victory. 

“Don’t get too confident,” James warned. “They get harder, remember? Next up: Y/N grew up with a pet dog.”

“Ooh,” Jason thought on it for a second, watched you with narrowed eyes as the audience waited for his answer. A few people shouted yes, some called out no! 

James turned and laughed, “no one helped Y/N when she struggled!”

“Yeah that’s unfair, guys!” You looked out to crowd, squinted through the stage lights. 

“Alright, alright--my vote is false, I don’t think you did. I feel like I would have heard about it.”

“Alright,” James nodded. “Let’s see what Mia has to say.”

Mia smiled and read the question. “Yes--I’m pretty sure his name was Hank, but it’s definitely true.”

“Hank?” Jason turned to you. “Why haven’t I heard about him?”

“My parents had him before I was born,” you defended with a giggle. “He died, like, before I started kindergarten!”

“Well rest in peace Hank--”

“You’ve gotta stay on this, Jason, or you could lose! Next one: Y/N has won how many Grammys?”

Jason smiled at you quickly, a subtle acknowledgement of your recent--and under the influence--addition. “Eight in total, I believe.”

The crowd cheered at that, Mia confirmed it was right and then James read the final one.

“Alright, Jason--last chance here. You’ll either tie or lose, so--Y/N’s pre-show ritual includes calling her mom.”

Jason let out a quick laugh, “I mean--I haven’t necessarily seen that yet, but I feel good about saying that’s true,” he nodded, adjusting his paddle to match. 

The video rolled of Mia, she laughed like Jason and nodded. “True--yeah, she calls her mom right before she goes on stage. She gets kind of annoyed if her mom doesn’t answer, too.”

The audience cheered again and James turned to you. “Really? You get annoyed? Do you call her over and over?”

“No--but it’s like, she knows where I am, she knows when I have a show.”

“She’s got a life,” Jason reminded you.

“She does,” you laughed. 

“And you both tied!” James smiled, “which is good because I feel like if one of you won it might have gotten messy.”

“Absolutely,” Jason nodded. “Punches thrown, for sure.”

James took you out to commercial break, the lights above the cameras cut off and Jason turned to you when Justine showed up to refresh your lipstick. 

“I knew about Hank.”

“You did?” You asked, lips parted as Justine swiped another layer on. 

“Your dad mentioned him once--but I figured letting you win was the nice thing to do.”

Justine laughed at that and you rolled your eyes. “We tied, I didn’t win.”

He leaned in and kissed you on the forehead before he fell into step with James. “Every relationship needs compromise, baby.”

__

Mid-April brought you back to London for another few nights. Production ramped up as the weather got nicer, meaning Jason spent more late nights on set. A week after the Grammys, Mia sat cross legged on the floor and helped you pack. 

“Everything’s finalized for Monday morning,” she said, a glass of wine in her hand as she looked over your upcoming itinerary. “We’ll have to leave here around seven.”

“Right,” you nodded, glancing over the dress you’d pulled for Otis’ birthday party. Was it too much? Too young? Should you even go?

“And our flight will land early in New York--you’ve got rehearsals that afternoon.” 

“Mhm,” you acknowledged. You’d been prepping for this, packing everything up, heading back to New York and the apartment you’d called home--the one that was a whole thirty minutes from Jason. 

Mia glanced up at you now with a pity smile, your one word answers tipped her off. “You guys are going to be fine.”

A sigh when you brought your eyes over to her. “I know--I know we will be.”

“It’s normal to feel anxious though--you’ve been living with him for the past four months.”

“Yeah--”

“He’ll be out for opening night,” she reminded. 

“Is this not birthday party appropriate?” You held the dress up against your frame, looked down at the floral pattern and then waited for Mia’s reply.

“Wait--are you being weird because you guys aren’t gonna live together back in New York or are you nervous about this weekend?”

Otis had been begging for a sleepover--movies and pizza and cupcakes, that’s what he’d said a few weeks ago at dinner when Jason asked how he wanted to celebrate. The thought drifted out of your mind with the trip to the West Coast and as you got busier with ironing out the wrinkles in the last few weeks of tour prep. 

But then Jason came home a few nights ago and reminded you: Otis’ party this weekend, Olivia said we can come by for a bit. 

“Both,” you finally answered Mia’s question. “But mostly the party.”

“Well,” she downed the last of her wine. “Unfortunately I am not the person to ask about appropriate kid’s birthday party attire.” 

You looked over at the clock on your nightstand and did the math on your fingers. You pulled out your phone and opened up FaceTime, only three rings before she answered. 

“What a lovely surprise,” Blake smiled into the phone when she came into view. 

“I am in need of wardrobe assistance,” you informed, “I’m with Mia.”

“My favorite,” Blake said. 

“Wardrobe assistance or me?” Mia called from the floor. 

“Both!” Blake smiled. 

You let out a laugh at their friendship but flipped the camera around. “Okay--so Otis is having a birthday party and Jason and I are going for a little bit--it’s at Olivia’s. Is this dress too much?”

“Yes,” Blake nodded, her forehead creased when she pushed her face closer to the camera to inspect the outfit in question. “How old is he, like, eight?”

You nodded. 

“Yeah--you need like, jeans and a sweater or something. You might get paintballed or some shit so don’t wear anything that fancy.”

“See?” You looked at Mia. “I knew it.”

Blake rolled her eyes at you playfully. “So Olivia’s hosting?”

“She is--five boys and a sleepover. Daisy’s gonna stay with us for the night so that’s good.”

“You sound like such a mom,” Blake teased. 

“I do not--”

“You do,” Mia agreed. “In a good way.”

“Alright, well--don’t say that to Olivia,” you made a face.

“Right, you know--since I talk to her so much,” Blake joked. 

Once upon a time, back before you knew Jason and long before Jason and Olivia went their separate ways, Blake had dinner with Olivia a few times, never really liked her all that much, she told you one night over a glass of wine. 

Jason and Ryan had been friends forever--so it made sense that once in a while Blake and Olivia would cross paths and mingle like the successful industry people they were. 

But her loyalty was with you as evidenced by the way her nose scrunched at the mention of her name. 

“If you and Jason are in this for the long haul then Olivia should be happy you’re so good with the kids,” Mia reminded from her spot on the floor. She folded a sweatshirt and tucked it into a suitcase before she looked up at you. 

“I know,” you shrugged absentmindedly. “But I’m not their mom and I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“Does she know that you guys are--you know--” Blake wiggled her eyebrows in excitement. 

“I have no clue,” you answered honestly. “And I have no idea when it might happen, I mean, I’m leaving soon and I have the tour and he’s still busy filming. It might just not be the right time right now.”

Blake nodded, lips set in a thin line as Mia smiled. 

“What?” You asked Blake, “what do you know?”

“Nothing,” she smiled. “I know absolutely nothing.”

“I can’t even see your face and I can tell you’re lying,” Mia laughed. 

Blake rolled her eyes. “Guys talk, Y/N.”

“So Jason told Ryan something,” Mia translated.

“You have to tell me!” You said quickly, moving to sit on the bed as you bounced in anticipation. “Wait--no, don’t. I don’t know. Is it good? Will I want to know?”

“I think you have packing to do,” Blake said with a sweet smile. “Love youuuuu, bye!”

Blake was right, which became obvious when you walked into Olivia’s house with a wrapped present in hand. You dodged three kids in the first thirty seconds, caught a lamp that someone almost knocked off a console table, and then followed Jason through the house and found Daisy watching her brother with arms crossed over her chest. 

“Hey Dais--” Jason greeted, she turned and smiled at the sound of his voice. “Where’s mom?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Hopefully getting me earplugs.”

You laughed at her attitude, went to stand next to her when Jason disappeared into the house to find her. 

“That bad already?”

Daisy sighed. “Boys are loud.”

“Well, then you’ll be happy to know I had Mia pick up strawberry ice cream for us tonight.”

She looked up at you with a toothy grin. “And sprinkles?!”

“And sprinkles,” you nodded. “And I’m pretty sure your dad is gonna let us have Mac n’ Cheese, too.”

“Thank god,” she said. 

You sat with her for a while on the grass, watched as the boys hooted and hollered like they were the only ones in Olivia’s posh neighborhood. Jason returned and Olivia came to say hi, she brought Daisy a juicebox but then retreated inside to order the pizzas.

Eventually, the excited shrieking of 8-year-old boys had you seeking shelter in the kitchen, a reprieve from the backyard soccer game that Jason was more than happy to referee. 

“Oh,” you turned the corner to find Olivia doing the same, nose in her phone before she looked up to see you. “Hi--sorry, didn’t know you were in here.”

She smiled awkwardly, a laugh escaped her lips when she shrugged. “I find it’s most tolerable if you find a hiding spot.”

You nodded, guilty as charged, but rounded the island to reach for a juicebox on her counter as you tried to come up with small talk. 

“Here,” she said, reaching for a glass and the already open wine bottle behind her. “This is how I make it through.” She took out the stopper and poured some. “Everytime you come in here, take a swig or two and after a few, the screaming feels more tolerable.”

You laughed, smiled when she got her own and clinked it against yours. 

“Congrats on the Grammy wins, by the way--must be exciting!”

“Thank you, yeah,” you smiled. “It was a busy trip but a lot of fun.”

“And Jason said the tour starts in a few weeks?”

“Mid-May, yeah.”

Quiet for a second when you sipped more wine. Apparently she was better at small talk than you were.

“He also said you guys have talked about getting married--or engaged, whichever.” She shrugged quickly and offered an awkward smile.

But your heart was in your throat, you swallowed and nodded, glancing up at her quickly before looking back to the ruby red in your glass. Lie? Run? What on god’s green earth were you supposed to say to that?

“Oh--yeah, I don’t know when, we just said at some point--”

She smiled, almost like she knew you were nervous and felt bad for the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “That’s really good news--I just--I guess I wanted to say that the kids will be really excited, and you know, it’ll be nice to have you be part of the family officially.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a smile when you looked back up at her. 

“And, you know,” she shrugged, “it’ll be nice to have someone to drink wine with at all the birthday parties.”

__

May in New York was always busy. The trees bloomed and your birthday always brought celebration to Manhattan, friends and family coming in for dinners and parties and this year, the tour. After two weeks apart for final rehearsals across the pond and last minute meetings, your birthday came and so did Jason and the kids.

I’m finally not dating a twenty-something, he joked all day, a family brunch at your parents house before a rented out rooftop somewhere in Tribeca. 

Maddy and Ada and Evie were there, the Hadid sisters and Hailey Bieber. You drank champagne and after the sun sank beneath the skyline, one of them finally had the guts to ask.

“So--big birthday weekend,” Evie smiled. “Think you’ll get a sparkly, diamond-shaped gift at any point?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed, downplaying the excitement that sprouted roots in your chest. “Whenever it happens is fine, and I’m just trying to focus on the opening show.”

“Three days, right?”

A nod before you sipped more champagne. “And a shit ton of stuff to do in the meantime.”

The stage was going up at Madison Square Garden tomorrow, two nights before to allow a final run through in full wardrobe. Saturday night would bring friends and fans and other big names to the performance and somehow, you couldn’t tell if the tour or an impending proposal felt more nerve wracking. 

“I bet he does it before the show,” Maddy chimed in. 

Blake was there too, a smile on her lips as she watched the rest of your friends take guesses.

“You’re uncomfortably quiet,” Ada let her elbow bump into Blake’s. 

“I plead the fifth,” she smiled, leaning her head on your shoulder. 

“Wait--speaking of me getting engaged,” you held up a hand, scanned the roof to make sure Jason was nowhere nearby. 

He was on the other side, stood with Ryan and Nolan as he took another drink from the bartender. 

“Olivia knows--she brought it up at Otis’ birthday party a few weeks ago.”

Blake looked surprised. “She knows, like, when he’s gonna do it?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “She knows it’s happening. He mentioned it to her I guess and she said she was excited for us.”

“Wow,” Evie said. “Do you believe her?”

You thought on it for a second, glanced back over to Jason as he nodded along to whatever Ryan was saying. You thought back to the moment (was it a moment?) you shared with her in the kitchen. For the first time since you’d known her, it felt like the two of you were on the same team. 

You didn’t need to be her best friend, didn’t even need to spend any time together outside of recitals or school events--but if you were going to do this, if you were going to be part of this family, it felt nice to know she could tolerate it. 

“I do.”

There was a cake after sunset, thirty whole candles on top that took two tries to blow out. The streets of New York glittered below and Blake found you looking out over the city as the party thinned out. She linked her arm in yours and stared out into the night. 

“Between you and me,” she eyed you quickly. “I think thirty will be your best year yet.”

__

You always woke up on the opening day of a tour with an inhuman level of energy. You bounced out of bed to hit the ground running before it was even 7am, coffee, a bagel on the go, a radio interview or two, venue by lunchtime. 

On tours past you’d ended at Madison Square Garden, the homecoming shows were loud and exciting and it felt like the perfect place to cap off months of travel and triumph. It was Chris’ idea, this time, to open here and start the tour with the level of excitement that usually signaled the end of an era. 

Which is why the green room was buzzing with friends and family the entire day, more and more people stopping by to say hello and wish you luck before you had to head to hair and make up. 

Daisy sat on the couch decked out in your merch: a t-shirt, a hat, a special lanyard with her backstage pass. She munched on goldfish that Mia had secured for her, bounced on the cushions like this was sure to be the best night of her entire life. 

She wanted to bring a friend, which Jason was hesitant about at first, until he’d decided bringing their nanny was the fix. I’ll be too excited, too busy to wrangle not one, but two five year olds. 

Now, he sat next to her and watched as she shoved another handful of orange crackers in her mouth. “You’re that excited, huh?”

“I am!” she smiled when you clicked your phone shut. “Are you excited, Y/N?”

“I am!” you nodded, “but I’m nervous too.”

Mia briefed Chris on something behind you, your mom was with Nolan near the snacks and your dad (with Murphy, of course) was on a walk somewhere in the venue halls. Andrew and Lena were disappointed that their two babysitters (you and Nolan) were both already booked for tonight, but they found someone else and would be here by dinner time. 

“You’re nervous?!” Daisy asked with wide eyes.

“Only a little,” you shrugged. “I just want it to be a good weekend.”

“It will be,” she said confidently, Mia handed you a sheet of paper, day of timeline.

Jason let his eyebrows rise in curiosity. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She lowered her voice to a loud whisper, looked between you and Jason before she smiled mischievously. “You said you have a very important question for Y/N this weekend!”

Nolan and your mom had just come closer, both of their mouths fell open in shock when Jason sputtered. 

“Daisy--you don’t--we haven’t--”

Mia took Daisy’s hand, her eyes wide with excitement when she smiled at you over her shoulder. “Daisy--let’s go see the stage!”

She smiled and hopped into action, bouncing down the concrete hallway when a moment of awkwardness flooded in the room. Your mom shot you a glance before she went to chat with Chris. Nolan announced to the entire room, Jessica should be here soon--I’ll go find her.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I don’t--sorry--I shouldn’t have told her--”

“This weekend?”

“Well they’re both here and we’re gonna be apart for a while, so I figured it might be a good time, but I don’t--I can change it, it should be a surprise.”

“I do!” 

He eyed you for a second. “Wrong reply,” he laughed.

“Just do it now! I don’t care!”

“You are ruining your own proposal,” he laughed, poking you in the ribs. “You have a show to put on.”

“You have a ring to put on me,” you wiggled your brows at him. 

“Get out of here,” he smiled. “Now I have to think of all new shit to say to you later when I actually do it.”

“You expect me to get on stage and perform a whole show knowing that I’m getting engaged soon?!”

“You won’t be getting engaged soon if you don’t get the heck to hair and make up,” he reprimanded, a smirk set on his mouth when you leaned up to kiss him. 

He gave you a slap on the ass when no one was looking, you were off to find Justine and to pull on the first of three outfits. Before you knew it, you rose up to the stage as the beat kicked in. Sixteen songs--almost two hours and so much smiling your cheeks were already sore. The adrenaline of the crowd was just as contagious as it always had been, and by the time you wiped your eyeliner off that night, you were ready to do it again.

“Starting in New York was a good call,” you said at the sink in the master bath. “Sleeping here will be better than a hotel or bus tonight. I’m always the most sore after the first show.”

“You should get massages like a football player,” he laughed, slipped his watch off and placed it on the counter, a wiggle of his eyebrows when he added: “I’d be happy to assist, though I’m not professionally trained.”

You laughed but rolled your eyes, already in sweatpants. You’d changed back at the venue, nothing worse than a jumpsuit and heeled-boots in the car home. 

But now there was a knock at the door, Jason walked to open it and revealed Otis on the other side. He’d watched from the VIP section with the rest of them, his friend Patrick seemed more excited about the segways they rode around The Garden than your show, but you didn’t take it personally.

“There’s no way I’m falling asleep after tonight--” he walked into the bedroom, a sigh from between his lips as he climbed up and onto the bed. 

Jason shot you a look through the doorway. Was he really coming in here, to sit with both of you atop the king-sized mattress that now felt like an ours instead of a his?

“No? Gave up after a whole ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes in kid time is like an hour in grown up time,” Otis said, duh. Footsteps in the hallway, you almost bumped into Daisy once you drained the sink. 

“You too?” Jason turned to see her, a blanket draped over her shoulder and a stuffed animal in hand.

“I heard talking,” she said. “Didn’t wanna miss it.”

You both laughed at that, you walked and went to adjust your pillows, climbing under the covers when Daisy hopped up next to Otis at the foot of the bed. 

“Well,” he put his hands on his hips and looked at them. “We’ve already had a really late night and it is way past everyone’s bedtime.”

Otis leaned over to Daisy and said quietly: “Maybe he wants us to leave so he can propose.”

“Guys!” He laughed at that, a shake of his head when you smiled up at him. 

“If he proposes I will be sure to come wake you up,” you nodded at Daisy with a smile. “Promise.”

“I think you should do it with us in the room so we can see,” Otis looked up at him and shrugged innocently. 

“Thank you for the input,” Jason nodded. 

“It would be kind of cute if they were here,” you said softly, he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows raised when you shrugged. “You know--a family affair.”

You meant it, but after knowing for almost five hours now that it was going to happen soon, the anxiety bubbled in you and probably wouldn’t stop until it was on your finger. 

He shook his head at all three of you, walked over to his nightstand and tugged open the drawer. He pulled out a tiny box, flipped it over in his hand a few times before he looked up at you. 

Daisy and Otis were still--maybe surprised that he’d decided to put his money where his mouth was. Your lips parted when he sat down on the edge of the bed. Daisy crawled over to sit beside you, watching when he opened it. 

“Y/N--” he looked up at you. “My children should be asleep and I wish we were too, but since we’re all here, and since they love you almost as much as I do, I was wondering if you would want to, you know, make this thing official?”

“Those aren’t the right words!” Daisy said quickly, upset by his veering off script. “You have to say will you marry me!”

He laughed, looked back to you. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes! She will!” Daisy bounced on the mattress and screeched in excitement. 

Jason’s eyes went wide, “whoa, whoa, whoa--take it down a notch there partner--”

“He was asking Y/N,” Otis made a face at Daisy when she stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

“Guys--focus,” Jason waved the box in mid-air, all three of you looked back to the ring that was tucked inside.

You smiled at him, felt emotion well in your eyes when he pulled it out and reached to slip it on your finger. A quick nod, a sniffle that turned into a laugh when Daisy and Otis high-fived. 

“What she said.” 

story page | talk to me/join the tag list | the playlist

AN: Well, y'all, that's a wrap--FOR NOW! I wanted to find a way to tie a bow on this story and wrap things up nicely, but in a way that still allows for us all to revisit these two in the future. I've loved writing this story so much (honestly it might be the most fun writing I've ever had), and that's because of YOU. So many people got excited about this story with me and came along on the journey of exploring my writing skills for someone other than you know who. Seriously though, who knew that one anon having a dream about Jason at the right time as me developing a crush would result in a 20 chapter fic with a 100k+ wc???? lmao. ANYWAY. I hope you all stay tuned for blurbs and snippets and things to come, (tour, the met gala sounds fun, the eventual season 3 premiere of the show...I've already got lots of fun ideas cooking for blurbs) bc I don't know if I'll ever get enough of these two 🥲 also yes before anyone asks I will probably keep writing jason fic!

tag list: @golden-hoax @fineelineee @baueoud @westcoastrry @missing-you-like-war @trulymadlykiki @caplikeme @tiredbuthappy @whymyparentscheckmyphone @tedlassostan @tegan8314 @yourgoldengirls @loganrwebb @rubberduckingaro @flannelplanet @15christyxoxo @stankface @outofthecradlex @moonlightspencie @ljej95

#not a date #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis blurb #jason sudeikis writing #jason sudeikis fan #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis reader insert #jason sudeikis x yn #ted lasso #ted lasso cast #idkthisisjustforfanfic

[purplewinterstache]

Can we just talk for a sec about how impossible it would be for a toy company to make an exact replica of the Buzz Lightyear figure from Toy Story?

If there are two things Buzz is well known for as a toy, it's his large range of poseability and all his cool gadgets. These two things are where the problems start. As far as his poseability, the main problem is with his arms.

In the movies you can see Buzz reach for the buttons on his chest using the hand on the opposite side. To be fair, this was proven to be possible to recreate (Takara Tomy's Real-Posing Buzz), but the main issue lies in the laser arm which needs to be just as poseable as the other arm but it still needs to have the karate chopping action feature as well.

Now as far as Buzz's gadgets and play features, I think the designers went too crazy on a couple of things. Let's start simple. Buzz has glow in the dark paint where his green paint is. Buzz is known to have a voicebox with 3 main phrases (more were revealed with the release of Toy Story 4). His wings are spring-loaded, retractable, and they light up on the tips. He also has the previously mentioned karate chop action which is activated on the back of his jetpack. His laser has the bulb from a laser pointer (which is dangerous for kids obviously). His wrist communicator is just a little flap of plastic that opens up but it needs to make an electronic sound when it opens. His helmet? Fully retractable and possibly spring loaded. And the best part? This is all supposed to run on 2 AA Batteries.

Now just like before, there have been some proof-of-concept toys released that attempted to get some amount of these features inside (Disney Store's Buzz and Thinkway's Toy Story Collection Buzz), but none of them have succeeded to get everything. It's quite impossible to power everything on 2 AA Batteries, so you'd have to upgrade to 3.

Also, the helmet can't be made fully retractable without having to risk sacrificing some or all of the other following features: Voice chip, Speaker, Wires for Laser Arm, Karate-Chop Action mechanisms, Wires for Wrist Communicator Arm, Mechanism and Wires for Wings, and of course the battery compartment.

Another impossible feature is turning Buzz on Spanish mode using the reset button of all things. It's one thing to have the Spanish phrases pre-loaded on the same chip as the English ones, but usually a switch would toggle the change in language, not a little tiny reset button.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON UTILITY BELT BUZZ! One of the old scripts for Toy Story 2 showed that the New Buzz's had a removable Utility Belt. That combined with the fact that the Utility Belt is supposed to have lights, sound, a folding Grappling Hook, and two removable Wall-Climbing Magnet things means that Utility Belt Buzz has taken the impossible features to infinity and beyond.

TL;DR, Buzz Lightyear figures will never be 100% like in the movies and it makes me sad

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#Toys #Toy Story #Buzz Lightyear #Lightyear #Disney #Pixar #Action Figures #Movie Accurate

[illtempcr]

╰   𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈  ser gabriel goode .

──    the application .

╰     ┈     [  fabien frankel , 27, cis male , he/him ]  in the time of dragons , SER GABRIEL GOODE is entering the game of thrones . said to be devoted + courageous, we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be short-tempered + vengeful . when asked about them , people are always reminded of the echoing of armor against stone , a bubbling fury that shakes the ground , steady brown eyes that savor every detail . though they are a KNIGHT OF KINGSGUARD , their true loyalties lie with house targaryen and house goode and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support their realm above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come .   ── * rhaegar  targaryen's best  friend  / personal  guard connection. ──

──   about .

name / nick names : gabriel , gabe .

distinguishing features : long dark shoulder-length hair . various battle scars , one large scar over the left side of his breast . 

some info : basically , he was raised at king’s landing . his father was a very devoted and highly regarded knight and he , of course , followed in his footsteps . he idolized his father , who would die in his arms four years ago . hasn’t forgiven himself . tortured soul . 

character inspo : prince caspian , lancelot , will turner . he’s sexy . thank you for coming to my ted talk . 

wanted connections : many , many lovers . and ex flings . his bestie is rhaegar and he’d probably enjoy a few drinking pals as well . this man loves the drink .  though i’d love a nice princess / lady for him to pursue , maybe a lil protection too ? swoon . 

#thrones.intro

[primasveraas-writing]

"Kent v Fucking Automobile" -Ted Lasso

This is an accompanying piece to 2 others in this series, but I consider it an AU of the first one. The subject matter is the same, but things go down differently. This one can be read on its own.

Part 1 // Part 2

WORDS: 3482

XXX

Roy Kent’s life is fucking incredible.

For one, he has a gorgeous, wonderful wife, with whom he has a fucking wonderful son, and if that weren’t enough, they’re expecting another baby in just a few short months. But, not only does Roy have a perfect fucking family that he loves, he also has one of the greatest fucking jobs in the world: coaching AFC Richmond (a career second only to being a footballer himself).

He’s headed to work early; Sam needs him for something before practice, and apparently, Roy loves this team enough to miss part of his morning with his wife and son.

It’s one of those days where he’s on autopilot, barely needing to pay attention to what he’s doing. He’s slowing for a traffic light when it turns green, and then there is a mass moving towards him, and he jerks the steering wheel, dread heavy in his chest.

All Roy knows is that he’s bracing himself, then there’s pain, then a hot flash striking his arms and face, then the world stills and he’s opening his eyes. There’s an airbag in his face and horrible pressure against his right side. He blinks, slowly, and tries to take a steadying breath. That doesn’t hurt, at least, and he looks around.

His door is bashed in, bent awkwardly into his body. He can hardly see around the airbag, but he can feel the metal against his leg- his fucking leg, as if it weren’t fucked up enough- and the other car is rammed into his own. Roy swears, loudly, and realizes that there are people starting to swarm around the wreck. He groans and curses again- he doesn't particularly fancy making the headlines with this one.

He gives one of the pedestrians a thumbs up, then fumbles around for his phone. There's no moving until the other car is gone, and even then, Roy's not sure he'd be able to climb out of his seat without collapsing. The phone rings once, twice; long enough that Roy can feel his hands shaking.

"Keeley," he says when she picks up.

"Roy," his wife answers, and she sounds startled.

"I'm okay," Roy says, staring down a bystander, who's unabashedly taking pictures of the scene. "Whatever you see, I'm okay."

"Okay," Keeley says, and there's an edge to her voice now. "What's-"

"I was in a car accident. I'm fine."

Keeley gasps; Roy wavers, suddenly regretting his bluntness. "Some wanker hit me from the side. Airbags went off but aside from being very pissed, I'm alright."

He hears Keeley breathe in and out deeply, and more anxiety bubbles in Roy's stomach. He feels hot, uncomfortably warm, and when he raises his free hand to his head, it comes away wet with blood.

"Are you sure you're alright, Roy? Did you call 999?"

"No," he mutters. "Though I'm sure someone else did." A beat, then:

"I think I fucked up my leg."

"Does it hurt?"

Roy looks down, tries to move his leg, and bites down hard on his tongue to keep from yelling. "A little."

"Okay." He can hear Keeley moving in the background, undoubtedly getting her keys. "Where are you?"

Roy peers through his cracked windshield and finds his vision is blurry. "I don't know," he whispers, and closes his eyes. "I was on my way to the pitch, but-"

"Right. I'm coming to find you."

"Wait," Roy warns. He can hear sirens approaching. "Worry about Oliver first. I'll meet you at the hospital, okay?"

"Okay." Keeley manages to sound businesslike. He knows she's trying not to reveal her worry, and that she knows he's downplaying the circumstances. "I'll see you there, then."

Roy waits for her to end the call. There's a few seconds of silence.

"You're okay, yeah?"

"Yes, Keeley," Roy promises. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay," she whispers back. "Love you."

"Love you, sweetheart."

-

Keeley stands in her kitchen and releases the kind of profanity only Roy is usually capable of. Her purse and keys are already gathered in her hands, but there's just one thing she has to worry about first.

"Oliver, love, we're going-" She bites her tongue. She can waste precious minutes asking the neighbor to come and watch him; if that fails, she'll have to find someone to come over and that could take any amount of time.

"We're going to the hospital!" She declares, and her and Roy's little terror sprints into the room and cheers.

Keeley scoops him into her arms, feeling incredibly unbalanced, and makes her exit, grabbing the first pair of baby shoes she can find. She's sure she's missing something, but at least her toddler won't have bare feet.

She calls Ted and Rebecca on the way there; Ted to watch her son and Rebecca to watch her. It'll make them both late to work, she's sure, but there are few people she'd trust more to support her family.

As expected, both of her friends drop everything to help her. Ted sobers up the moment after Keeley says hello; the worry in her words must be painfully evident. In turn, Rebecca vows to be at the hospital in a time that guarantees some horribly reckless driving, which is terrible, given the circumstances, but Keeley knows Rebecca and her best friend bribing her driver isn’t Keeley’s greatest concern right now.

Unsurprisingly, Rebecca is waiting at the hospital for them, Ted at her side. He’s white in the face, which confirms Keeley’s suspicions about their ride over, but he scoops Oliver into his arms, asking how his day has been and if he’d like Special Texas Pancakes for lunch. Keeley offers Ted a wordless smile in thanks before Rebecca takes her inside.

“All I know is they’ve admitted him,” Rebecca says, glancing at the receptionist. “They wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“Right, well, you can’t bribe hospital staff all too easy,” Keeley muses. She gives her name to the attendant, who, despite Rebecca’s glowering, tells them to wait, and they take a seat.

It’s only a few minutes before a nurse is pointed towards them. He smiles at them, which Keeley takes as a good sign, though she still clings to Rebecca’s hand during the whole of the conversation.

Roy is fine; he was brought in conscious, but with a severe leg injury and a probable concussion. The doctors aren’t terribly worried, but they have to act fast.

“We understand that Mr. Kent has a previous knee injury.” Keeley nods. “This complicates things. Preliminary tests suggest that there’s further damage to his knee. We still need to do an x-ray and an MRI, but it’s likely that he’ll need surgery.”

Keeley swallows, hard; the youngest Kent-Jones gives her bladder a kick, and she shifts uncomfortably.

“We’ll let you back as soon as we find a room for Mr. Kent.”

“I’d like to see him before any surgery,” Keeley asserts, but her voice is strained.

The nurse nods. “Of course, Ms. Jones.”

-

Soon translates to an hour, but Rebecca occupies Keeley, complaining about idiot businessmen and updates on her mum and anything else asinine that Rebecca can think of. Keeley’s leg shakes up and down, but her thoughts aren’t totally captivated by worry, and that’s good enough.

A different nurse takes her back to see Roy when it’s time, and they wind down a long series of identical hallways. The air is stale with sickness and nerves, and Keeley’s boots click on the linoleum of the otherwise silent hall. Then, they round a corner and the nurse pushes open a door, leading Keeley past curtained-off beds and finally, to Roy.

His eyes are closed. Bright red skin indicates the burn of a deployed airbag, and there are cuts on his face and arm. The hospital gown does him no favors, revealing his mangled leg and the mess of bandages covering his knee.

Tears well in Keeley’s eyes. It’s the most vulnerable she’s seen Roy, topping his last game with Richmond, his retirement conference, and his reaction to the birth of his first child. He’s pale, clearly in pain, but when his eyes open, they seize her up quickly.

She breathes out his name, moves to the head of the bed to run her fingers through his hair, and presses a kiss to the unmarred part of his forehead. His hand captures hers, gripping tightly.

“I fucked my knee,” he whispers, and Keeley nods.

“We’re gonna unfuck your knee,” she tells him, unsure of how much she means it. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Roy nods, alert, but obviously tired. His voice was shaking on their call; it’s steady now, but Roy is stuck in a grimace, and he’s barely moving as he talks to her.

“What did they tell you?”

“Not a lot. What did they tell you?”

Roy eyes her suspiciously. “Fuck all. They did a hundred fucking tests and kept their damn mouths shut.”

“Okay. Let’s wait for the doctor, then.”

“Keeley-”

They know each other so well. She’s hard-pressed to get out of this one.

She can see the argument brewing in his mind- his lips are parted, his trademark scowl graces his lovely features, and she knows that he has every right to be frustrated.

“Well, you’re not gonna lose your leg,” she informs him, and Roy snorts. Keeley bites her lip. “I think.”

“It’s fucking useless anyway.” Roy rolls his eyes. “I’m not fucking playing football with it.”

“Legs have other uses, you know,” Keeley points out, and Roy snorts again.

“Fuck that."

A smile is tugging at her lips, and Roy is about to mirror the expression despite everything fucking hurting when metal scapes against metal, and the curtains part to reveal a doctor, who smiles at them both. Roy scowls.

“You’re going to cut my fucking knee up.” He accuses, and the doctor nods.

“You tore several major ligaments and we need to prevent permanent nerve damage and limit the risk of blood clots.”

Roy’s scowl deepens, impossibly. “Fine.”

“Excellent. We’ll get prepped for emergency surgery.” She looks at Keeley and Roy, at how tightly they’re holding each other. “I’ll give you two a minute before we take you back.”

Keeley murmurs her thanks, and turns back to Roy.

“Right,” she says, brushing a stray curl off of his forehead. “You be good, and enjoy the hell out of those painkillers. I’ll see you soon.”

“Right,” Roy agrees, kissing the back of her hand. “Don’t eat shitty hospital food if you get hungry. Make Rebecca order you something fancy while you wait.” Roy’s brow creases. “Ted has Oliver, doesn’t he?”

“He does, yeah.”

“Fuck. Well, Ted can keep him when he has his massive fucking temper tantrum ‘cause of all the biscuits he’s eaten. And you fucking relax and don’t worry too much about me and my fucking knee, okay?”

“Okay.” Keeley bends to kiss him, and he smiles at her, not with his usual brilliance but something close, and that’s enough. She knows he’s in pain; she can read it in every line on his bruised face, but he’s being unflappable for her, and she can try and do the same. “I love you so much, Roy Kent.”

“I fucking love you, Keeley Jones,” he tells her. “And tell Ollie I love him too.”

“I will. He’s gonna cuddle the fuck out of you when we get home, you know that.”

“Damn right.”

-

Keeley stays with Roy until nurses come to take him into surgery. She watches them wheel her husband down the hall and through a forbidden set of double doors, and exhales.

She finds Rebecca quickly enough, who ensures they celebrate Roy’s prognosis and consciousness and retainment of his humor. Over and over, she repeats Roy’s words in her head: he’s going to be fine, and she shouldn’t worry too much.

Rebecca regales her with tales of the worst men she’s worked with; when that fails, they compare notes on baby names. They laugh and grin without light ever reaching their eyes and neither utter a word about it, but Rebecca confiscates Keeley’s phone when her Twitter mentions blow up. There are pictures of the accident, and of a bloodied Roy Kent being loaded in an ambulance, and Ted texts her to let her know that he’s brought Oliver inside where any nosy press won’t catch a glimpse of him. Her heart aches for her son, who would be distressed if he knew any better, and who likely won’t get to see much of his parents today. Ignorance is bliss, though, and Keeley thinks of Roy’s last smile to her, and not of his strained words when he called her, or the pictures of his totaled car online, or how fragile he looked in the hospital bed.

There’s a nagging at the back of her brain, though, of what would’ve happened if Roy couldn’t reach his phone, or if he left home a second sooner or a second later, or if she had gone with him, or if he had to drop Oliver off somewhere along the way, or if the other driver had been going a tiny bit faster or hit Roy at a slightly different angle. He’s lucky, after all, that it’s just his leg, that it’s not even broken, that their baby wasn’t in the backseat, that Roy will ultimately be fine after this, he’ll be fine, because he’s still so fucking young and his son is still a baby, really, and he hasn’t even met his second child yet.

Keeley takes a shaky breath, and Rebecca captures Keeley’s hand in both of her own. She rubs her thumb across the back of Keely’s hand, and the younger woman rests her head against Rebecca’s shoulder, and the two women stay like that for a long time.

-

It’s three hours before they get any word about Roy. Keeley thinks, really, that it should have been like, half an hour at most, but the nurse who talks to them says all good things, and that they’re almost done. Some of the damage is permanent, especially to Roy’s nerves, but the rest of him is fine. Walking normally will be the greatest challenge, and to Keeley, that’s a nominal problem given the rest of his prognosis.

Rebecca stews when they have to wait another couple of hours: first, the surgery has to wrap up, then Roy is brought to a recovery room to be monitored, then finally, finally, he’s moved to a private room where they can sit with him. The whole time, Rebecca lingers an inch away from total fury, but Keeley lets Rebecca be as angry as she likes, so that way, Keeley doesn’t have to be and all her energy can be focused on Roy.

It’s quieter when she sees Roy this time, more peaceful. Even Roy Kent doesn’t scowl in sleep, and despite the IV in his arm and the injuries peppering his skin, Roy appears at rest, genuinely so. Keeley waits, alone for the first time that day, for him to wake, and when he does, Roy only mumbles hi and offers a groggy smile before he’s out again. Keeley texts Rebecca and Ted an update, and that’s how her afternoon passes, her husband in and out of sleep, and not much else in the world mattering.

-

The next day is a flurry of doctors and physical therapists, and their three-year-old son navigating a hospital for the first time. Roy’s concussion means wearing sunglasses indoors, but Ted drops Oliver off with a matching pair for him and Keeley, and their first family picture after the accident is of them in the hospital, all wearing shades inside like a bunch of proper arseholes, Roy’s face impassive but Keeley and Oliver positively beaming at the camera. Roy learns how to navigate on crutches, as is the condition of his release, so he struggles his way up and down a short hallway, swearing all the while, his grouchy disposition only faltering when Oliver makes his opinion known about the matter (“Daddy has four legs!).

They’re sent home, donned in sunglasses and laden with crutches and high-grade painkillers, late that day, and Roy has to wonder if Rebecca’s paid off the press when he’s loaded from wheelchair to car without any twats snapping pictures of him at his worst. Later, he’ll confirm that she did, in fact, pay the tabloids to piss off, accompanying a press release along the same lines. He and Keeley are lucky to have such a friend, he knows, especially one that doesn’t believe in bullshit.

He’s absent at the next Richmond match and most of their practices the following week, in favor of sleeping frequently. Something wonderful about needing three fucking naps a day is that Oliver will nap with him, which gives Keely a much-needed break, and also there’s nothing fucking better than his baby asleep in his arms, because he loves his son so fucking much but sometimes it’s fucking nice when Oliver isn’t running around like a maniac, and Roy can just hold him.

Putting any weight on his leg is fucking hard. Showering is fucking impossible, bending down to pick up Oliver’s ridiculous toys is difficult, stairs are a fucking burden on humanity, and Roy is in so much fucking pain all the time. It gets better at a snail’s pace, and he manages to make it through a full day of work on an obscene amount of Tylenol and Ted literally cheering him on in the most annoying way possible. The only thing that pacifies him is Keeley coming in to kiss him at various intervals throughout the day, and he buries his head against her side and she runs her fingers through his hair, and their kid-on-the-way sometimes kicks against Keeley’s stomach, which never fails to be spectacular.

Roy masters crutches, even though the dumb fucking things make his armpits hurt, and a month after surgery, when Roy has endured physical therapy and public sympathy and a thousand fucking stairs, he begs his doctors to let him off them. And so, they introduce the next alternative that Roy will use for the rest of his fucking life.

A cane. Roy Kent, still fucking young, is fitted for a cane, which Ted immediately wants to decorate with lights and streamers and shit, and that Oliver tries to use as a fucking lightsaber and wack people with. It’s fucking terrible, but it’s also the first thing that makes Roy laugh after coming home from the doctor’s with his fancy new stick.

They told him and Keeley this, that first day in the hospital after the wreck. That he would never walk the same, that some of the nerves were too far gone. There’s nothing he can do, aside from physical therapy to build up some strength. It’s damning, and a hard pill to swallow, but Roy’s knee has been fucked since his last football match against Manchester, and he knows that. Keeley reminds him that his life is still pretty incredible, after all, and Roy has to agree.

His daughter is born shortly after, and Roy weeps when he figures out how to hold a cane in one hand and his precious baby in the other. Frequently, he looks like the corniest fucking dad ever, because it’s honestly easiest to carry Lily in a papoose, but Roy fucking Kent’s reputation holds up: he’s still the scariest motherfucker to ever grace the face of football. When he takes her to practice, though, he finds that this effect is somewhat diminished; he yells at one of the boys to tighten up, then his daughter gurgles, and Roy is caught gazing down at her with a dopey fucking smile on his face.

The first cane breaks when Richmond loses by a slim margin thanks to a few small mistakes. Roy is minutes into a post-match debrief when he punctuates what went wrong with the cane against the whiteboard, and the wood slams against metal and splinters into a hundred fucking pieces all across the locker room, footballers ducking for cover, Roy’s chest heaving as he surveys the scene. Then Ted sits Roy down, commends his incredible strength, and tells the team to goldfish their way through this, and that they’ll work through it during the next practice.

Oliver breaks the second cane. And the third. And then Roy concedes style to durability and gets a fucking metal cane that his kids aren’t allowed to touch.

His life is different, largely because he’s a father of two now, and stairs are fucking terrible and he hates them. But, aside from that, he’s still Roy Kent, Keeley Jones’ husband, parent to the two best fucking kids in the universe, football coach extraordinaire. That’s pretty fucking good, in his book, and in the end, there’s nothing fucking wrong with using a cane so long as Oliver doesn’t kill anyone with it.

#roy kent #roy kent fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #keeley x roy #roy kent x keeley jones #keeley jones #roy x keeley #roy x keeley fanfiction #roy x keeley fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine

[swanimagines]

Hi, it's me again!

Congrats on 2k one more time, everything about it is so cool!

If it's ok, can I ask for a platonic self-ship with Pin Hawthorne, please? You can call me Mary and my pronouns are she/her. I'm a Ravenclaw and ISTJ and I consider myself a very boring person...I wear glasses and have dark brown eyes, I'm shy with strangers, but I talk a lot with people I know. With friends I have a sarcastic sense of humor and I can talk for hours about books, movies and TV shows I enjoy. I blush very easily and if I'm nervous I begin to stutter (then I realize I'm stuttering and it gets even worse, it's terrible!). I love to stay at home, binge watch TV shows, read, listen to music (I have a soft spot for 2000s pop music...) and sing along when nobody can hear me. Sometimes I procrastinate something I really should do, but I don't want to and I usually worry about almost everything more than I probably should. I can be very stubborn sometimes and I have a hard time showing my feelings even for the ones I care about, so I'm usually seen as someone cold.

You can write anything as short or as long as you like, but I would like to ask for some fluff, if this is ok...thank you in advance!

Mary had been friends with Pin since daycare, Pin was the first person who approached her on the playroom and they bonded over their love for horses. Mary had never ridden before, and only seeing some ponies at a fair, but she read a lot of books that featured horses. She quickly learned that Pin's father worked for a small stable called Bright Fields, and Pin is allowed to ride a pony while his dad is working. He invited her to come along on one weekend, and soon Mary found herself riding a pony - and that was a path she wasn't coming back from.

Pin and Mary became inseparable, Mary defended Pin from Mia and Pin was standing up to literally anyone who made fun of Mary's stuttering. They studied together, took long rides together and Mary saw the chemistry between Pin and Zoe immediately, even though on the next moment she was angry at Zoe for accusing Pin of being the horse thief. But she warmed up to Zoe soon again, and continued her shipping journey and being overjoyed when she learned that Pin and Zoe finally got together.

Mary wasn't good at showing her feelings to anyone, not even to Pin, but Pin never thought it's because she doesn't care. He had learned to read her beyond expressions or the tone of her voice, knowing when she was happy or sad. If she was sad, he'd arrange a surprise movie night or a Netflix binge night with her favorite show, building a pillow fort resembling the one they had as children, with fairy lights and big bowls or chips and candy and anything they felt like eating, sometimes he even ordered takeaway.

It would have felt as a romantic gesture if it was any other friend, but they had had those days since they were kids, and Pin knew how much Mary loved just relaxing and watching something. Mary was his friend, his best friend, sharing a bond that could be compared to a bond between siblings, and he wanted her to feel good about herself.

Sometimes they fell to sleep in the middle of the movie or the TV show, just like they had fallen to sleep as kids, Mary's head against Pin's shoulder and his arm around her and when Ted came to the room, he didn't wake them up and just threw a blanket over them to make sure they won't get cold during the night, shutting down the TV and unplugged the fairy lights, tiptoeing away.

Then they woke up about nine hours later and ate breakfast together, laughing at some joke and sometimes, when Ted looked at them, he felt like he has two children, or that Mary was Pin's secret twin. They even fought like siblings.

Ted smiled, leaning against the counter and sipped his coffee, watching Mary and Pin being deep in a conversation, laughing occasionally. Pin had gone through so much at a young age, and Mary had been too shy to make friends - but together they could conquer anything. Through Pin, Mary had befriended the Bright Fields gang, and he had gotten a girlfriend from Zoe and so much happiness into his life, and it all began because he had seen a little girl sitting all alone without no one to play with back at the daycare. If he had just walked past her, none of this would have happened - or maybe they would have encountered each other later in life, who knows.

But in any case, they were one of the best things that had happened to each other.

#jen's 2k ships #2k celebration

[viastro]

winning team | hong jisoo

ミ★ synopsis: in which you and joshua singlehandedly carry your team on your back for capture the flag. oh yeah, the boys also don’t know that you two are dating. [requested by @jos-hua​ except she just asked for fluff and them spending time together but i decided to make it a nerf war]

ミ★ genre: fluff, humor

ミ★ warnings: mentions of nerf guns and shooting with foam bullets, brief and i mean brief mention of sex

ミ★ word count: 1,473

ミ★ pairings: joshua x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! this was requested by my luvie @jos-hua​ ! lia, i hope you still like this even tho i made it into a giant ass... nerf war... hehe. make sure to check out her work too, she’s really good at writing <333 and i love her <333 thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Joshua watches as you check your surroundings for the enemy, you give him a thumbs up once the coast is clear and you both dash for the bushes. Once you guys make it, you pull out your phone to check for Jeonghan’s location. 

“Where is he?” Joshua whispers, looking around with wide eyes to make sure no one’s around. You curse to yourself once you realize he turned it off, having already assumed you’d check for it later. However, your eyebrows perk up in interest once you take notice of Chan’s location, “The flag is at the end of the street by the bushes, Chan was put in charge of it.”

You and Joshua are in an intense game of capture the flag with the rest of the group. Instead of physically tagging once you’re in enemy territory, the fourteen of you brought nerf guns to shoot each other. Almost half of your team is in jail right now, but you also have half of Jeonghan’s team in your prison. 

which is your garage but shhh

You, Joshua, Seokmin and Minghao are the last ones in your team that haven’t gotten caught yet. Mingyu, Seungcheol and Jihoon got pelted by nerf bullets in their attempt to capture the flag. From what you know, Minghao is currently hiding out behind a garbage bin with the guys in his sight. He’s just waiting for the right time to go for a jailbreak since Jun won’t stop guarding it. While Seokmin is standing by your prisoners just in case someone from Jeonghan’s team decides to run in.

Then there’s you and Joshua, already in Jeonghan’s territory hiding behind a bush. You both ran in pretty easily without getting any attention from Seungkwan and Jun, but your real problem lies with Jeonghan and Chan. Those two are an unstoppable duo when it comes to games, but you and Joshua are impenetrable. 

it’s a battle of the game gods.

“You ready to run in babe?” You ask, an excited smile taking over your features as you turn back to look at your boyfriend. His blonde hair is slightly wet from sweat, and his white shirt clings to his body. It is quite a sight but you won’t let that distract you. that’s a goddamn lie. 

Joshua gives you a smirk, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

You both run out of the bushes, heading towards the end of the street when nerf bullets begin to get shot at you. You and Joshua tuck yourselves behind a car, preparing your ammo when you hear Mingyu and Seungcheol begin shouting Minghao’s name. You peek over the hood of the car, finding Minghao shooting back at Jun and actually hitting him in the head. 

“JAILBREAK!” Minghao yells, slamming his hand on the mailbox that was designated as their prison. Jihoon, Minghao and Mingyu scream in victory before running in your guys’ direction to help capture the flag. While Seungcheol gives you guys a thumbs up before running back to base to help Seokmin guard.

“Let’s FUCKING GO!” You shout as they get closer, and you all run towards the end of the street. Jeonghan looks up with an excited smile at the action, before he starts aiming at Mingyu. 

The guys handle Jeonghan while you and Joshua run to find the hidden flag. As you get closer to the bushes, a nerf bullet zooms past your head and you look up from the ground to see Chan shooting at you both. 

“Cover me!” You yell and Joshua immediately starts fighting back, preparing his ammo as he ducks to find cover behind the bushes. Eyes frantically searching for the neon yellow flag, you finally see it sticking out in a lavender flower bed. 

“Yn, go!” Joshua yells and Chan casts his eyes in your direction, sporting an open-mouthed smirk as he prepares to aim at you.

You sprint in the direction of the flag, hearing Chan shout out in pain once Joshua starts shooting at him. Letting out a smile once the flag is within reach, you grab it, lifting it up out of the flower bed in victory. 

“WE WON!” You scream while jumping up and down. Chan lets out a loud laugh once you start doing your winning dance, otherwise known as:

the floss. except you do it aggressively. 

“FUCK YEAH!” Mingyu yells as the rest of your team runs down the street towards you guys, a tired Jeonghan and Jun following close behind.

Joshua runs up and lifts you up in a hug, and you laugh at his happy reaction. You throw your hands in the air, letting out a squeal when he sets you back down. You stare into each other's eyes for a moment before you press a quick kiss to his lips. His eyes widen at the fact that you initiated the kiss first, a blush rising to his cheeks a few seconds afterwards.

“Y-you. You kissed me first.” 

“That I did.”

“That was the first time you’ve ever initiated the kiss.” Joshua gapes and you giggle at him, patting his sweaty head.

“That is indeed, true-”

“YOU GUYS ARE DATING?!” You and Joshua practically jump out of each other's hold, finding all twelve of the guys now staring at you two with wide eyes.

“Oh…”

“Shit.” Joshua finishes.

“You know, I really did not expect for today to end with the guys scolding us for not telling them that we’ve been dating for five months.” Joshua nods his head, drying his damp hair with a towel as you lay on his bed, scrolling aimlessly through your instagram. 

“I’m more surprised at the fact that you initiated the kiss.” You groan, covering your eyes as your boyfriend laughs at your shy reaction. 

“Why do you keep bringing that up!” You whine, peeking through your hands to see Joshua smiling at you. “Cause it’s a monumental moment in our relationship. Makes me feel all warm inside.” You roll your eyes at him, going back to looking at your social media.

“But yeah, it was our fault honestly, we should’ve told them when I first asked you out.” Joshua says, bringing up the previous topic as he places his towel on a hanger. 

“I mean true, but I didn’t want them to feel awkward you know? I’m glad they were so accepting of it, even if we did get scolded for an hour straight while also being taught the importance of using protection.” You mutter, placing your phone onto Joshua’s nightstand. He slips off his slippers before giving you a big smile.

He practically leaps onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you and pressing soft kisses to your neck. You giggle at the feeling, poking his stomach so that he’ll back up a bit. He leaves one last kiss before leaning back to stare at you with a happy expression on his face.

“Someone’s happy tonight.” You state and he nods his head. “How can I not be? We fucking destroyed Jeonghan’s team today, and then you kissed me. That was the most epic part of my week honestly.” 

“We had an hour long lecture on why we shouldn’t have kept our relationship a secret, then got a thirty minute talk on using protection during sex.” You deadpan, and Joshua frowns at you, muttering how you’re a party pooper.

“It was still the best part of my week, protection talk or not.” Joshua tells you, and you glance at him with a teasing smile.

“Even better than our at home kbbq extravaganza?”

“Even better.” 

“How can me kissing you be better than our at home kbbq?” You ask with a frown and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Because kissing you is better than eating any grilled piece of meat, yn.”

You gasp, and Joshua gasps along with you. You both stare at each other, holding your pose for a moment longer before giggling into each other's faces. Joshua lets out a sigh, staring at you contentedly. You raise an eyebrow at his expression, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at his intense gaze, “What?”

“I love you.” Joshua whispers, reaching out and tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. A big smile breaks out and you cover your face with your hands, letting out a little squeal. Joshua laughs at your reaction, pulling you into his chest as he strokes your back.

“I love you too.” You mumble and he closes his eyes, a small smile still gracing his features.

He rubs circles onto your back until you fall asleep with a sleepy grin on your face. Joshua pulls away slightly when he notices your breathing evening out, and he chuckles at your dopey smile. 

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Joshua mutters, moving some more stray hairs away from your face. He presses a soft kiss onto your forehead, before leaning back and turning off the light. 

“Sweet dreams yn.”

#joshua hong x reader #joshua x reader #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen aesthetic #seventeen oneshot #seventeen x reader #seventeen joshua #joshua hong #joshua scenarios #joshua fluff #joshua oneshot #joshua au #joshua hong scenarios #joshua hong fluff #joshua hong oneshot #joshua hong au #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo fluff

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Brokenhearts Club - Same Room

tw: mentions of breakup, toxic coping mechanisms, drinking/alcohol, mentions of violence (he throws his phone), cursing 

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x gn!reader

Genre: angst, very very mild fluff

AN: There were no such things as happy endings.

Collab Masterlist | Playlist

*Inspired by Same Room by JP Saxe

I watched a TED Talk on our break, He had a smart person accent

He said, "Don't look through the photos", Then I looked through our photos

A haze filtered over his eyes as he stared down at his phone. In the background, sappy love songs played as he ignored the bodies in the room. His fingers itched, tapping on the app. He swiped to the side, tapping on the Hidden from View folder and revealing its haul. Thousands of photos and videos opened on his screen. He tapped on the first one he saw. His heart lurched as he remembered. 

Just to spend a couple days with me

You flew halfway 'round the world for me

Iwaizumi was exhausted, feet, knees, and shoulders tired from all the patients he had visited that day. He had been running around the clinic, fetching this and that for Utsui. He slumped against the door as he entered his apartment, sighing heavily. He threw his keys into the bowl by the entrance, letting his bag fall off of his shoulders as he walked into the kitchen. As Iwaizumi turned on the tap, something caught his attention. He froze, staring at the suitcase before he shut off the sink. 

“(Name)?” He called, stumbling over his feet as he flew through his apartment.

“Haji!” You squealed, popping up as the door to his bedroom was flung open. 

“(Name)!” Iwaizumi stopped, his mouth drying as his heart stuttered as he was rooted in the doorway - shock filling him. 

What were you doing here? The last he knew, you had finals that you had to take, projects to finish. You should still be in Tokyo! 

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

You grinned at him, standing up and opening your arms to reveal the teal jersey you wore. “I finished my projects and exams early and I figured I’d come surprise you.” 

Iwaizumi shook his head, a dopey grin on his face as he ran forward to embrace you, arms wrapping around your waist as he held you to him. “God I’ve missed you so much.”

“Surprise,” you tease, blowing on his ear. “I’ll be here for a few weeks. Try not to miss me too much when I leave though, yeah?”

“Oh baby, I always miss you when you aren’t around.” 

Iwaizumi shook his head, the dull ache of the alcohol searing his throat. He swiped through the photos and videos from that trip.

“Oh Haji, look!” You beamed at him, sparkly pink mouse ears perched on your head as you pointed up at the castle. “I can’t believe we’re here right now!”

“I did promise to take you here one day, didn’t I?” Iwaizumi teased, warmth filling his senses.

His thumb was a blur as he swiped through the photos of you and him in front of the castle. He paused, staring at one in particular.

“One day, when I put my ring on your finger, I’ll bring you back here, okay?” 

“Haji!” You gasp, giggling. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He squeezed the hand on his waist as he tucked some hair behind your ear. “Gotta make you the happiest person on Earth at the happiest place on Earth.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my brute of a boyfriend?” You tease, shoving his chest slightly.

His heart skipped a beat as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe your brute of a boyfriend didn’t realise how much he’d miss you when you weren’t around.”

You blink up at him with doe-eyes, love and devotion in your eyes only for the spell to be broken by the photographer’s approach.

“Here you go!” He grinned, showing you the camera. He had perfectly captured the heat in your cheeks as Iwaizumi whispered in your ear. The photographer swiped through to the next photo to one of Iwaizumi kissing your forehead. “You’re both such a lovely couple.”

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi replied in perfect English, smiling. 

“Enjoy the rest of your day!”

Iwaizumi picked up his glass of scotch, chugging the rest of it as he stared down at his phone. His vision blurred as he proceeded to swipe through. 

“What are you doing here, moping by yourself?” Iwaizumi looked up, scowling as Oikawa stood here, a hand on his hip. “And why didn’t you say hi when you got here?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he willed his tears away. “Maybe I didn’t want to see you, Shittykawa. Think about that?”

I strategize a path to the bathroom

So I don’t walk past you

“Is it us you don’t wanna see, or (Name)?” 

Mattsun leaned against the table, tilting his glass of whiskey as his eyes fell on someone. 

Iwaizumi’s throat constricted as he saw you. 

You, in all your angelic beauty, stood with some of your old friends from Seijoh, chatting eagerly. He watched as your plush lips moved, noticed the crinkle of happiness in your face, the way your outfit hugged your body is such a perfect way. 

“Didn’t expect to see (Name)?” Oikawa asked, voice soft. He looked over at you, sad for not only his best friend, but also for you. He’d shipped you two the most. 

Iwaizumi gulped, shaking his head as he waved at a waiter, getting his glass topped off before downing that. “S’not that.”

“Then what?” 

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” Iwaizumi said bluntly, slamming his glass down. 

“Go to the one that way,” Mattsun advised, pointing to the left. “(Name) won’t see you if you do that.”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi grunted. 

Make us try to fake our way through

"Hey, how are you?"

Iwaizumi slipped in the direction that Mattsun had pointed in only to accidentally bump into someone’s shoulder. “Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi flinched, recognising the all-too familiar voice. “Sawamura? What are you doing here?”

“My partner invited me.”

“Ah.” Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed. He shook his head. “Hope you have fun then, Sawamura.”

“You too, Iwaizumi.” 

Iwaizumi swiveled, making his way towards the restroom. He cursed the hall for being so dark as he bumped into another person. “I’m sor-” the words died in his mouth as familiar (e/c) eyes turned to found his.

“Haji.” 

The sting of the familiar nickname caused his heart to throb, his stomach churning. “(N-Name),” he stuttered, shock evident in his features. 

Weren’t you on the opposite side of the room? How did you get in front of him so quickly? 

“H-how are you?”

You smile, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m doing pretty well. How are you? Are you back from California then?”

He gulped, nodding. “Yeah.” He cursed his voice for cracking. “Been back for awhile now.”

“That’s good.” You both stand there awkwardly, staring at each other. Iwaizumi’s throat constricted, words clawing up his throat.

“Listen-”

“Well, it was nice seeing you.” The words caught in his throat as you gave him a small smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. We can catch up or something.”

“Sure,” he choked out, hurt and pain flashing through his eyes.

Why not now?

Wait, was he even ready to have that conversation with you?

“Bye!” 

You turn, disappearing back into the crowd to leave him staring blankly at the spot you had just been in. He blinked, shaking his head before he turned back to the direction he had just come from - the urge to use the restroom vanishing along with you. 

It's hard to summarize three years

More like four years

With each step, flashbacks ravaged through his mind. 

“Hey, (Name), can I talk to you?”

You look up from your lunch, startled. “Oh! Sure thing, Iwaizumi-kun.” You stand up, “I’ll be right back,” you smile at your friends before following the wing-spiker to the vending machines. “What can I do for ya?”

Iwaizumi froze, your dazzling smile freezing him in the spot. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Do you wanna go out sometime? Today maybe?”

“Oh!” If it was possible, you grinned brighter. “Sure, I’ve always liked you.”

“Wait, really?” 

You nod happily. “Yeah! Ever since we met last year as first years.” 

He blinked. “Me too.” 

“You liked you since last year?” You put a hand on your hip, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Iwaizumi scowled, “I meant I liked you too. Since last year. Dumbass.”

Your giggle made his heart fluttered. “I know.” You lean up, pressing your lips to his cheek. “See you for our date later then, Iwaizumi-kun!”

He shook his head, cursing his memories. 

“Aw, I love you.” His head snapped up, hearing someone’s voice echo those words in a playful, mocking tone. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

You plopped down on the bench beside him, elbowing him. “I’m sorry about the game.”

He shrugged, pulling a hand out of his pocket to grab onto yours. “S’no big deal.”

“It is to you.” You squeezed his hand. “You were amazing out there, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi snorted, shaking his head. “If I was so amazing, why do we lose to Shiratorizawa every time?”

“Mmm, that’s not your fault though,” you pointed out. “And there’s always next tournament. You have time, I believe in you.”

He sighed, shoulders slumped. You look curiously at him. You’d never participated in sports or competitions, not really understanding what it was like to work so hard for something only to be beaten every single time.

“I love you.”

His head snapped up, brows furrowed as his jaw gaped slightly. “Wait what?”

You shrug. “I said I love you.” You squeeze his hand. “I love you, Iwaizumi Hajime and I think you’re the best spiker in the whole wide world!” 

He rolled his eyes, shaken out of the spell you’d cast over him. “I love you too, dumbass.” He muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” You tease, blinking at him with those eyes that sparkled like the setting sun. 

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, tugging you closer to his side as he rested his chin on your head. “I said I love you too.” 

Oh, to hell with all your silver linings

And I'm tempted to distract myself, I'm trying not to

“Iwa-chan, you never call me anymore!” Oikawa’s whiny voice called Iwaizumi to flinch, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an annoying little shit I wouldn’t avoid you,” Iwaizumi growled. He leaned back, throwing his head over the couch. 

“You’re so mean,” Oikawa grumbled. “Is this because you broke up with (Name)? Or did they break up with you?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi warned, a sharp tick in his voice. “Don’t go there.”

“Why? Isn’t it better now? You can go pursue your dreams, move to new countries and do whatever you want.”

“I said leave it alone!” Iwaizumi bellowed, hanging up the phone and hurling it away from him. He stood, pacing as anger pulsed through his body. He didn’t need a reminder of how ‘good’ life would be without you. He just wanted you. He wanted to come home to you, wanted to hold you in his arms at the end of every night. 

He stalked towards the fridge, throwing it open and reaching for a beer before he paused. 

Drowning his sorrows wouldn’t do anything. Wouldn’t change that you were no longer his, and he was no longer yours. With an irritated click of his tongue, he slammed the fridge door shut, leaning his forehead against the cool metal. 

He needed a distraction, but not like this. He sighed, peeling one eye open to notice the gym bag peeking around the corner up at him. 

Maybe it was time to start working out again. 

Internally he laughed. Wasn’t that exactly what he was doing now? Drowning his sorrows with the golden ichor that drove even the most controlled of humans into chaos and sin? 

His feet started moving faster and faster, needing to escape from the suffocating weight of his memories. Not now, not in this room where everyone - especially you - could see him. 

He didn’t need the world to know that he wasn’t over his ex. 

Everyone wants an explanation

And I don't know what to say anymore

He still remembered the first time that people had found out that you’d broken up. The wave of texts that he had gotten when he first posted a photo that didn’t feature you, but featured another girl. 

“Hajime, let’s take a photo together!” She pouted, crossing her arms.

He rolled his eyes but allowed her to. She was just a friend, someone he’d met in class. They’d met up at a party and somehow he found himself posing for the photo, letting her throw her arms around his neck as she took the selfie. In his drunken state, he barely noticed the intimacy of it before he posted the photo onto his InstaFeed. 

[Oikawa]: Wow, she’s looking close! Won’t (Name) be jealous ;) 

[Mattsun]: damnnn, California changed ya, Iwaizumi!

[Makki]: Woof woof! Mind giving me her number?

[Oikawa]: hold on, where are all the pictures of you and (Name)??? Did something happen?

[Makki]: Wait, did you guys break up?

[Mattsun]: whoaaaa, when did this happen?

Iwaizumi shook his head, staring at his InstaFeed before tapping on the archive button and bringing up the hundreds of pictures - the ones that featured you. He stared at your face, tears welling up in his eyes.

[Oikawa]: oi, don’t ignore us

[Iwaizumi]: it’s none of your business. Now fuck off.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, turning back to the girl as he reached for another beer. He didn’t want to think about this. 

Not now. 

Not when all he wanted to do was call you.   

“What happened between you two?” Oikawa asked, looking down at his best friend as Iwaizumi rejoined them at the table. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Iwaizumi snarled, anger in his features.

“Haji.” Your voice came crisp and clear through his computer as he stared at your face through the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi frowned, hearing the slight tremor in your voice.

“I..I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?”

You swallow, finally meeting his eyes and he noticed how red and swollen they were. “I don’t wanna do this distance thing anymore. You’re doing so many great things and I just...You deserve better.”

“Wait, baby, what are you talking about?”

“Haji, I love you so much,” you force out, giving him a teary smile. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” 

“(Name), wait-”

“Goodbye.”

The beep of Zoom ended the call as Iwaizumi stared in anguish at the screen.

“She didn’t want to try anymore, I guess,” Iwaizumi shrugged. He stared at you for a moment longer. 

You looked happier - sounded happier too. 

He sighed, sipping from his glass just as he noticed who slipped to your side. A hand settled on your hip, causing you to start before you looked up at the person who the hand belonged to.

He could just imagine your voice - soft and doting as you leaned up to kiss Daichi’s cheek. 

At least you found someone close to home, someone who would always be there for you and someone you could depend on. 

Iwaizumi turned back to his table, ignoring the pitiful looks from his friends as he sought out the bottom of his glass. He never imagined how badly it would hurt - just how much the smallest glimpse and interaction of you would throw his emotions into turmoil. Another sigh left his lips.

He couldn’t do this any longer. 

Couldn’t be in the same room as you.

“I’m leaving,” he announced bluntly, slamming his glass down before grabbing his coat. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

In his wake, he felt the heat of your eyes on his back. 

Did you still think about him like he thought of you? 

Did you feel the same pain that he did when he saw you? 

Did you ever think about your relationship with him? 

He shook his head, swatting away the malicious thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to get away, now. There was no more ‘us’ when it came to you, and there never will be. He could only hope that the next time he saw you, he wouldn’t have to run away. 

After all, it shouldn’t hurt this badly to be in the same room as you, right? 

*****

AN: All I felt was *pain* writing this ahahaha. Hope you enjoyed my addition to this collab!! Please be sure to check-out the rest of the incredible writers of @babythotshq​ ! 

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[hookedonapirate]

Book Update

If anyone is wondering when Hard To Handle will be coming out, I have some news! So, for those who don't know, Hard To Handle is an original A Helping Hand rewrite featuring Harper and Owen (Killian and Emma) and will be part 2 of the series. And if you haven't guessed yet, part 1 features Audrey and Brady (Elsa and Liam from A Helping Hand) with a Harper and Brady friendship. For those interested in their story, I have a little treat for you below. However, this Sneak peek doesn't show Audrey and Brady meeting yet because I haven't gotten that far.

This is sort of an enemies to lovers story (I say sort of because their "enemy" status in the beginning is too complicated to slap a label on it) that starts off with Harper and Audrey butting heads with their new neighbor, Brady, and him and Audrey exchanging love hate letters. 😉 Then Brady and Audrey form an alliance and break up Harper and Bryce. I promise it's not evil like it sounds because Brady discovers Bryce is cheating on Harper. Remember, Bryce is the Neal of AHH.

This book is a bit darker than book 2 because of the toxic nature of Harper's relationship with Bryce, and because Audrey often pays the price for his shenanigans, but there's still humor and fun in this one.

Anyway, here are the first few chapters. I may post more if anyone's interested ❤️

Chapter One

Brady

There are strange sounds coming from the unit next door.

Laughter maybe?

Yes, definitely laughter.

More like Cackling. From one—make that two—females.

Two loud, annoying females.

Just great.

I take pride in being a fairly simple man who doesn’t need much to be happy. A few things like fishing, enjoying an ice-cold beer and having a few moments of quiet time usually does the trick. Even the sound the can makes whenever I crack open the pull tab of Coors Light is music to my ears. I finally have time to relax after sweating my ass off from all the unpacking I did. I just moved in today and couldn’t stand the idea of tripping over boxes or searching through them every time I needed to use something. I was unable to stop unpacking until every single item in those boxes had a home.

Now I’m able to sit back in my patio chair, prop my feet up on the plastic stool and breathe in the pleasantly cool evening air, enjoy a refreshing, ice-cold beer and some quiet time.

Or at least I was able to until my air of tranquil serenity was so rudely disturbed by my cackling neighbors.

They could at least close their balcony doors, so the entire building doesn’t have to hear them.

I’m already in a foul mood, and the two laughing hyenas aren’t helping. If anything, my mood is worse than it was when I was packing.

They, however, sound like they’re having a grand old time. Doing what exactly, I’m not sure, but it sounds like one of them needed a break from studying and the other one is encouraging her to get drunk and let loose. Which means they’re college students.

Just fucking perfect.

This is exactly why I moved off campus, even though it meant paying rent and enduring a much longer commute to work.

It’s just my luck to get stuck living next to two loud teenagers or early twenty-something-year-olds. I’m around college students all the time, considering I’m an instructor; I don't need to live next to them, too. I learned that very quickly.

Young adults, my ass. More like impudent children.

I feel like the property management should’ve included that minor detail in the apartment listing. Or that not everyone is required to follow their uniform policies.

A peaceful, friendly community? Ha!

The management will definitely be hearing from me about their false advertising.

“Dude, I’m sorry to tell you this, Harp, but your boyfriend’s a fucking loser! Even Elisa said so!”

“He’s just misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?! Bryce is such a creep!”

“Is not!”

I take a swig of my beer through gritted teeth. I really wish I had a TV right now.

It won’t be delivered until tomorrow, though. Which is very unfortunate and inconvenient at the moment because I need a distraction from reality. Listening to their conversation makes me furious and sad at the same time because it reminds me of me and my brother arguing about his girlfriend. I kept trying to tell Owen she was no good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. I bet this Bryce guy isn’t married, though.

Or maybe he is; I really don’t know.

I need something to take my mind off the overwhelming urge I feel to hop on a plane, fly to Chicago and kick my brother’s ass for being the fucking moron he is. And let me tell you, the urge is very strong right now. Earlier today, Owen told me the woman he’s been seeing is married. They’ve been dating for six months, during which she was lying to him the entire time. I already didn’t like her very much to begin with because she was a controlling bitch—I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a controlling bitch to my brother—and because ever since he started seeing her, I haven't been able to hang out with him very much. Whenever we made plans, he canceled them because Naomi wanted to spend time with him instead. And he was my best friend. Now he tells me she’s married and that he’s still staying with her.

What the actual fuck?

He’s so brainwashed by her, I couldn’t talk a lick sense into that goddamn head of his. Now he wants me to be okay with them staying together while she’s still with her husband?

Fuck that shit.

“Okay listen, if you’re going to talk shit about my boyfriend, we’re going to need more wine.”

“Agreed.”

It becomes silent next door for a few minutes, which makes me sigh in relief. Soon I hear, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

There’s a litany of curses and then, “We need a new corkscrew!”

“But we’re too drunk to drive anywhere!”

Damn, if only I had a corkscrew so they could drink more wine, get drunker and become even louder and more annoying than they already are.

That’s actually not a bad idea, though. If they’re anything like my ex-girlfriend, the quicker they get drunk, the quicker they’ll be ready to sleep. The quicker I’ll finally have my peace and quiet.

I contemplate driving down to the corner store, but what would I even say if I showed up at their door with a corkscrew they didn’t ask for? Oh, hi, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and took it upon myself to go to the store and buy you this corkscrew so you could both drink yourselves into an alcohol-induced coma and I could finally have some peace and quiet?

Nope, I definitely can’t say that.

Chapter Two

Audrey

“Son of a fucking bitch!”

When I rush into the kitchen to see why my roommate’s cussing up a storm, I’m expecting the counter and floor to be covered in wine and shattered glass, even though I didn’t hear any glass break, but Harper’s just holding the corkscrew and staring at the top of the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need a new corkscrew!” Harper grabs the bottle of wine and points the top of it at me. The cork is still jammed into the neck of the bottle, and the worm of the corkscrew is stuck inside it.

Which is very unfortunate.

She’s been studying her ass off, except for the occasional interruptions from her asshat of a boyfriend, Bryce. She had a really tough time getting him to finally leave so she could study, and she had to literally push him out the door. So I thought Harper could use a break and I could feel saner again by indulging in some wine. But one bottle of wine quickly turned into two. Or rather, it would’ve if not for the end of the corkscrew inside the cork.

Fuck.

“But we can’t drive anywhere,” I point out, considering how tipsy we both are, even though we only went through one bottle between us. But we’re both lightweights.

“Hold on,” she says, picking up her phone from the counter.

I cock my brow. “You do realize Amazon Prime takes two days to ship, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Aud. I’m not that drunk.” After looking at something on her phone for a minute, she leaves the kitchen, returns with one of her tennis shoes and sets the phone down to pick up the wine bottle. She places the bottom of the bottle inside the heel of the shoe, raises her hands above her head and goes to one of the walls in a striking pose.

I rush over and put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“This will push the cork out.”

“But won’t the wine spill all over?”

“Not if I can only push the cork part of the way out and then pull it off the rest of the way.” She hits the shoe against the wall a few times, but the cork doesn’t budge.

“Why don’t we see if any of the neighbors have a corkscrew,” I suggest. “This method doesn’t seem to be working.”

She sighs and drops her arms. “Who do you think would have one?”

“What about Mandy? She’s a wine drinker.”

Harper shakes her head. “She doesn’t get home from the office until late on Mondays. And there’s no way I’m trying mister grumpy pants across the hall. It always seems like he’ll snap at any moment. Plus, once his dog starts yapping, she never shuts up.”

“What about the new guy who just moved in next door?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if he’s an ax murderer?”

“I saw him earlier when he was moving in. He seems harmless enough, and is kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, well so was Ted Bundy. And I’d like to stay alive with my head intact, thank you very much.” I haven’t seen the new neighbor yet, but I don’t think going over to a stranger's place while we’re both a little tipsy is the best idea, for several reasons.

She flicks her hand. “Well, you don’t have to go. I will.” She grabs her keys, removes her pepper spray from the attached chain and throws her keys back on the counter before heading toward the door.

“Harp, wait…”

Ignoring my pleas as I follow behind her, she slips into her Nike slides. “I’ll be fine. I got my handy dandy pepper spray,” she says, holding it up.

Before I can talk some sense into her, she’s already dashing out the door and calling out over her shoulder, “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911!”

I sigh and lean against the door, pressing my ear against it so I can listen for Harper’s screams or any signs of a struggle.

Chapter Three

Brady

When I head inside from the balcony, there’s a knock on the front door. I scratch my head and stride over to answer it, wondering who it could be. I just moved into this apartment today, so I literally don’t know any of my neighbors yet.

I open the door to a skinny blonde with green eyes, long, shimmering hair and soft pink lips. She’s easy on the eyes, but I have a feeling she’s one of the laughing hyenas next door. She’s not as young as I thought she’d be, though. She looks to be around my brother’s age. When I give her a once-over, I notice the pepper spray she’s trying to hide in her fist.

I wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t even have the safety lock on.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“HiI’myournextdoorneighbor,” she mumbles, her words slurred together. She’s a little tipsy and has to lean against the doorframe so she doesn’t fall over.

“How can I help you, next-door neighbor?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the pepper spray. The sight of it brings back too many painful memories. Memories I’d rather keep locked away.

“I was wondering if you had a corkscrew my roommate and I could borrow?”

On the balcony, I wanted to strangle the two neighbors who were interrupting my quiet time, but now I feel very protective. She’s obviously drunk, yet stumbling over to a neighbor she doesn’t even know. I mean, I like to consider myself an overall decent human being, or as I’ve been called before, “one of the good guys,” but this woman doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, yet she’s over here asking to borrow a corkscrew. And yes, she’s carrying a weapon, but I doubt she knows how to use it properly, and with how tipsy she is, I doubt she’d even be fast enough to use it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Her smile fades, but she looks determined, so I’m hoping she doesn’t go knocking on all her neighbors' doors asking for a corkscrew.

“I could buy you one,” I offer, trying to sound as polite as possible. Which is difficult when I’m irritated.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?”

I cross my arms and give her a stern look. “On one condition.”

She nods excitedly. “Of course, anything.”

I’m so glad I’m a nice guy because this woman seems far too trusting, and I’m afraid of what would’ve happened if I were anything less than a decent human being. “I’ll go and get you a corkscrew if you return to your apartment and keep the noise down for the rest of the night. And maybe close your balcony doors so the entire building can’t overhear your childish conversation.”

I’m thinking this is a very reasonable request. I’m willing to leave the comfort of my apartment to get in my car and go to the corner store to get some women I don’t know a corkscrew, and all they have to do is put a cap on the noise.

But the scowl on her face tells me she doesn’t agree. “First of all,” she raises her index finger, “ruu-uuuuuuude!” She raises another finger. “Secondly, my roommate and I aren’t children. We’re having a stressful week and were finally able to relax and drink some wine when the corkscrew broke. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out how to get the cork off ourselves!” She turns on her heels and starts to head toward her apartment, but spins around again and gets in my space, jabbing a finger at my chest. “And thirdly, we weren’t being that loud!”

I clench my jaw as she storms away and slams the door shut after disappearing inside her apartment. I throw my own door shut, huffing in frustration.

Why couldn’t my neighbors all be sweet old ladies?

So much for having a relaxing evening!

I head back to my balcony when there’s another knock on the door.

“Son of bitch,” I curse under my breath as I march over to the door and yank it open. “What, now?” I ask angrily when I see her standing at my door again.

“I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

I furrow my brows, growing more agitated. “A what?”

She sighs as though I’m the one inconveniencing her. “A dress shoe,” she says impatiently. “Surely you’ve been to a wedding or funeral. You must have one.”

“I do, but why do you—” Before I get the chance to answer, she shoves past me and heads toward my bedroom.

I follow her in there and cross my arms over my chest in the doorway as I watch her go to my closet. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

Seriously?!

The audacity of this woman waltzing into my apartment and taking one of my shoes! “That’s funny because I never said you could borrow one.”

“Wow, your closet is super organized,” she comments as she looks around, easily finding one of my brown dress shoes and grabbing it from the shoe rack.

I’m still standing in the bedroom doorway when she tries to get through. I reach for my shoe, but she steps back and aims her pepper spray at me. I instinctively duck out of the line of fire and lunge forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her hand and twisting the safety lock.

“Wait, please don’t kill me! My roommate’s calling 911 if I’m not back in two minutes!” she cries, shielding herself with her hands.

I sigh in exasperation and extend the pepper spray to her. “I’m not trying to murder you, I was trying to get my shoe back.”

She slowly drops her arms and narrows her eyes as she snatches the spray from my hand. “Then why did you take away my weapon?”

I scoff. “It was a reflex so I didn’t get sprayed in the face since I wasn’t actually attacking you. Do you know how many times I’ve been pepper-sprayed in the face?”

“Why, because you’re a rapist?!” she accuses, stepping away from me and aiming her pepper spray at me again, even though the safety is still on. She probably doesn’t even know that, though.

I sigh in exasperation and raise my hands in surrender. “No, because I was in the Marines. Getting pepper-sprayed was part of my training. It taught me how to use my weapons and equipment.”

She lowers the spray, guilt etched in her features. “Oh, sorry. My roommate said you might be another Ted Bundy, and I don’t want to be raped and murdered.”

“Yeah, because breaking into your neighbor’s apartment and stealing their shoe is a good way to prevent that from happening,” I say, my words laden with sarcasm.

“Well, no, but that’s what the pepper spray was for.”

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it properly. You need to have a firm grip and use your thumb to activate it so it can’t be taken out of your hand like I just took it out of yours.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raises the pepper spray at me again and presses the button to activate it. But it’s still disarmed. Once she realizes her mistake, her eyes widen.

I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

She offers an apologetic smile, then scurries toward me, ducks under my arm and squeezes past me, darting for the front door. “I’ll bring it right back, I promise!”

I let her go and exhale another deep sigh. What could she possibly need my shoe for anyway? To squash a spider or something? Can’t she use her own Goddamn shoe for that?

Right, she probably doesn’t want to get her precious shoe all gross, so she’s using mine instead. Which means my shoe will be returned with spider guts on the bottom.

Just great.

I go to the balcony and curtly grab my beer so I can head inside and not have to hear every goddamn word of their conversation again.

Pound, pound, pound.

What the hell?

It sounds like they’re banging something against the wall.

My shoe, perhaps?

Pound, pound, pound.

Then I hear a loud pop!

“Yessssss!”

They got the cork out.

“Holy shit, you made a mess!”

“Sorry, but at least we can keep drinking!”

“Woohoo!”

I head inside and close the sliding doors, hoping to go to bed and get some rest. But then there’s another knock on the front door.

“Fucking hell,” I groan as I go over to answer it. It’s probably the blonde neighbor with my shoe, but I’m not sure I want it back.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” She hands over my shoe with a small smile and heads back to her apartment.

“You didn’t borrow it, you stole it!” I call after her. But she completely ignores me.

“And sorry I tried to spray you...twice!” Before I can respond, she’s already inside her unit.

I bring the shoe to my nose to get a closer whiff of it. I noticed the smell as soon as she handed it to me. “Hey, why does my shoe smell like wine?!”

But I’m talking to the door at this point.

I shake my head and go back inside, trying to decide if I should try to get the smell out or just toss the pair into the trash. For now, I set it aside and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping my neighbors will down the bottle, get tired and pass out so I can have a quiet evening.

No such luck.

They turn on the music, and I can hear the pounding bass through the wall and also, “Yeeeeesssss, this is my jam!”

The walls are actually shaking.

Why do the other neighbors put up with this! It’s absurd, really.

They should be evicted.

I contemplate calling the police to make a complaint, but this is New York City; the police have better things to do than respond to non-emergency noise complaints. So I return to my bedroom, strip down to my boxers and toss my clothes into the hamper before slipping into bed. I can still hear the noises coming from the unit next door, but thankfully, I’m a patient man. I’m sure they’ll get tired soon and go to bed. Or at least I hope so.

But an hour passes, and the music still doesn’t cease. I groan and roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head, wishing I had noise-canceling headphones right now. I’m normally against the idea of something that cancels all sounds, because it also cancels sounds that alert danger. Like if a burglar broke into the apartment or there’s an explosion or gunshot. But right now, I’d do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Between arguing with my brother over the phone into the wee hours of the night yesterday and spending all day moving into my new place and unpacking, I’m completely exhausted. Not to mention I always start my day at five in the morning. My classes don’t start until eight a.m., but I like to get an early start to my day. I got up that early when I was in the Marines, and some habits just never die.

I’m about to get up and go down the hall to ask them to turn down the noise, but I’ve already asked her once and she got offended, so I doubt it will do any good.

Chapter Four

Audrey

I’m immediately regretting the two bottles of Barefoot Harper and imbibed last night. My head is pounding, I’m dehydrated, and I have to be at work in an hour. I take some aspirin, drink a full glass of water before jumping into the shower.

When I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Harper is shuffling out of her room.

“Morning,” she says groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, Harp.” I head to the kitchen to make her some coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker myself, I prefer tea, but I know Harper can’t function in the morning without a fresh cup of hot Folgers.

“Why did we drink on a weeknight again?” she groans, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s an excellent question.” I pour water into the pot and place it in the coffeemaker, turning it on.

Harper buries her face in the cradle of her arms on the table as I grab some aspirin and a tall glass, filling it with water. She doesn’t have to work today, but she does have classes. She’s already a registered nurse like me, but she’s going for her master’s degree to open up more job opportunities. And also because she’s an overachiever, when it comes to her career at least. I just wish she were an overachiever when it came to other aspects of her life, like the kind of men she dates. Or maybe Harper was purposefully aiming for Class-A levels of douchebaggery when she started dating Bryce. If that’s the case, then she definitely went above and beyond expectations. And while she is my best friend and roommate, there’s only so much sense I can talk into her. And I'm not willing to let some lowlife scumbag get in between our friendship.

“Here, these will help.”

Harper lifts her head and takes the aspirin and glass. When she pops the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water, she already appears to be more human again.

I grab my keys and strap my purse over my shoulder, heading toward the front door.

“Speaking of drinking, are you going to be here Friday night?”

I snort-laugh and turn to look at her, placing my free hand on my hip, knowing exactly where this is going. She’s still recovering from her hangover and already has booze on the brain. “That depends. Is Bryce going to be here?”

When she takes a slow sip of her water, I know what her answer is before she says it out loud. “Well, considering he’s the one who invited a few people over, yes, he’ll be here.”

“Then no, I definitely won’t.” I head for the door, trying to leave again.

“That’s a shame because Bryce has a good-looking friend who thinks you’re gorgeous.”

I spin around, cocking a brow. “Which friend?”

“Treyton. You haven’t met him before, but he saw your pics on Instagram.”

I walk to the table, placing my hands on top of the chair, my key ring dangling from my finger. “How did he find my Instagram account if we’ve never met?”

“Bryce showed it to him.”

What the fuck?

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Okay, why is Bryce showing his friends my Instagram account?”

She smirks. “Because Treyton was asking him if I had any cute, single friends.”

I sigh, not liking the idea of Bryce trying to set his friends up with me. I’ve met some of his guy friends, and neither is one I’d kiss if he were the last man on earth. “Sorry, not interested.”

I remove my hand from the chair and try to leave again.

“Oh, come on, Aud. Give the guy a chance. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s fucking hot.” She picks up her phone from the table and pulls up something before handing it to me across the table. “See for yourself.”

I reluctantly take the device, a heavy sigh leaving my lips. I highly doubt his looks will sway me. Even if is hot, he’s still Bryce’s—

Holy crap.

He’s got those smokey grey eyes, a chiseled jaw and a little smirk on his beautiful face that makes me melt.

Well, fuck.

“So, what do you think?” Harper asks curiously, trying to stifle a smirk as she perches her chin on the back of her joined hands, her elbows resting on the table.

I try not to show how attracted I am to a freaking photo of a guy I’ve never met before, but damn, those eyes are spellbinding, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. “Okay, he’s a little cute.”

“A little? Honey, you and I have similar tastes in men, so I know you don’t think he’s just cute.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We usually do, which is why I have no idea how Bryce got your attention. He must have a big dick or something.” I narrow my eyes. “Does he have a big dick? Because that would explain a lot.”

Harper bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Aud, you know it’s not all about the size! And no, he doesn’t, he’s average, but as much as you hate him, you can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

“Yes, maybe on the outside he’s cute but personality-wise he’s ugly as fuck.”

She sighs in defeat as I hand over her phone. This is just an argument neither of us will ever be able to agree on. Well, until she finally decides to take off those damn rose-colored glasses and sees Bryce as he truly is. But I know it would make Harper happy if I agreed to stay for the party. I know that sometimes she feels out of place considering most of Bryce’s friends are college kids. Normally, she’s the oldest one there, but you could never tell, because she has a baby face and looks at least five years younger than she actually is, so to the other college kids, she's one of them.

“Fine, I’ll be here for the party.”

Harper’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but if any of his friends grab my ass, I’m leaving.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

The coffee machine beeps, so she gets up from her seat, grabs a mug and creamer and pours the steaming, hot liquid into her cup. She returns to her seat and sips her coffee as I once again try to leave. “Thanks for starting the coffee, Aud.”

“No problem. See you tonight.” I unlock the door, and when I pull it open, I notice a folded up crisp piece of copy paper taped to the outside. I cock my brow and peel it off, unfolding it. I’m expecting it to be from the building management.

But then I read the first line...

To the two hoity-toity princesses,

I immediately suspect it’s from mister grumpy pants across the hall, but the letter is in fancy cursive writing. Who even writes in cursive anymore? Maybe an old lady or mister grumpy pants, I suppose. But he normally doesn’t leave letters. He’ll just knock on the door with his cane and chew us out in person. Harper said the first time he knocked on her door to complain about the noise, he made her cry.

When he tries that shit with me, I give it right back to him and threaten to call the cops on his dog and have her taken to the pound. He tends to leave us alone now. So, I’m surprised he’s resorted to leaving us notes.

Can you kindly tone down your loud music and obnoxious woohooing, laughter and overall commotion that kept me up until 2 a.m.? Some people actually have to work on a Tuesday morning. I, myself, wake at 5 a.m. every single day and am now forced to go to work on three hours of sleep. Luckily the students I teach possess much more class and are at maturity levels you both obviously could never achieve if you actually tried. I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty, as you’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income and never worked a day in your lives, but some people actually have responsibilities and obligations, not just classes they can skip whenever they feel like it. So have a little respect and lower the volume a few notches.

This time you get a warning, but if the noise persists, I will be forced to contact law enforcement. Have a lovely day drinking your Starbucks lattes and trying to get rid of what I hope are nasty hangovers.

Sincerely,

The tired and cranky guy from 8C, thanks to his loud, annoying neighbors

P.S. The blonde who took my brown dress shoe owes me a new pair seeing as it now reeks of Pinot Grigio, thank you very much.

My nostrils flare before I even finish reading the letter. The audacity of this asshole! He doesn’t even know us, hell he hasn’t even met me in person, yet he makes all kinds of false assumptions about us.

I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty.

What the actual fuck?! Harper and I both wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work at the hospital, and we’re constantly on our feet for at least twelve hours. We only work three days a week, but our jobs are emotionally and physically draining; I mostly use the other four days to sleep, recover, clean the apartment and run errands. So, for someone to say we don’t work or ever get our hands dirty is a blow to the gut. We’re nurses for crying out loud! Getting our hands dirty is part of the job!

Another remark of his that irks me: We’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income. My parents would actually laugh out loud if they read this comment. They always tell me how independent I am. Hell, I wouldn’t even allow them to pay for my schooling even though they wanted to; I wanted to do it all on my own, so I had two jobs while I went to college. They also weren’t too happy when I took a job in New York, but they told me if anyone could handle herself in a big city, it was me. Not to mention, Harper had it way worse than me, growing up.

But the fact that this douchebag is so ridiculously wrong about us makes me smile a little. It will feel so goddamn good to make him see the error of his ways.

I’m still carrying the letter with me as I go to my bedroom closet and grab my stationary from the top shelf. I take out a sheet of paper and a pen from the box, replace it on the shelf and return to the kitchen. I hate the idea of using my good paper on this asshole, but if I’m going to stoop to his level and leave a note on his door, I might as well do it with class.

“What’s the note about?” Harper asks with furrowed brows. “I paid the rent just in the nick of time.”

“It’s not from management.” I take the pen and paper to the table and start writing out a letter. “It’s from our friendly neighbor in 8C,” I say sarcastically.

Her eyes widen as she reaches for the letter. “What did he say?”

I look up and hand it to her.

When she reads it over, the sleepiness in her eyes morphs into anger. “What the hell?! Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know us!”

“Exactly.” I look down again at the paper and continue the sentence I was working on.

I can feel her staring at me as I write. “What are you doing?”

“Replying to him,” I say without taking my eyes off the page.

“What, are we in elementary school?”

“According to him, we are.”

“He’s just a douchebag, you can’t take anything he says seriously.”

I almost laugh. Normally she’s the one wanting revenge when someone wrongs her, and I’m the one having to talk her out of it. “Maybe, but this will teach him not to make assumptions about people.”

After I’m finished, I let her read it before I tape it to his door. I head to work with a smile on my face. This should teach him not to be such a dickhead.

Chapter Five

Brady

Dear self-righteous butthole in 8C,

~~~

Stay tuned for more...

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#my book #sneak peek #self-promotion #hannah writs

[kyoomiii]

♡ Weight Insecurity [hcs]

-  ➣. . . ❝ Hiiii can I request for Kuroo, Keiji and Hajime with a chubby girlfriend who distanced herself cause she got insecure because a girl is getting too flirty with her man? 👉👈 thank you so muchhh (*˘︶˘*).。.:*♡ ❞

― requested by: @ chichi-chanischibi ​ ―

- ✎ characters ❝ kuroo, akaashi, and iwaizumi ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): heavy mentions of insecurity and slight language ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff, angst ❞

❝ i just wanna say... LOVE AND APPRECIATE ALL BODIES BECAUSE YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! thank you for coming to my ted talk (○゜ε＾○) ❞

-kyo ♡

When it came to appearances she was perfect, tall, thin, and standard wise she was beautiful… Something you did not see in yourself- and watching the way she touched Kuroo, you felt as if maybe, just maybe that was who he was meant to be with. 

Someone as equally as stunning as he is. Because that’s what they are, absolutely stunning standing next to one another, like two models fresh out of a magazine.

The sight alone makes your stomach churn, the familiar buzzing of anxiety vibrating throughout your body… He deserves better.

And the thought lingers in your mind the longer you stare at them, that tingle of anxiety soon joined by the clench of your heart. You watch him expectantly, perhaps he would pull away. Tell her he’s taken. But he doesn’t. He smiles the way he always does, seemingly oblivious to the way she eyes him, devouring every inch of his being.

With a shaky breath, you manage to tear your gaze away, continuing your steps down the hall. He deserves better, he deserves her, because she is beautiful and so is he, you are not- at least that’s what you tell yourself.

Throughout the day the scene replays in your mind. Her and  Him- You don’t belong there. Especially now, as you stare into the bathroom mirror, you find yourself dissatisfied with your appearance. How could he possibly love you when you are nowhere near the standard that he is. 

Tears begin to pool the longer you observe yourself. The plumpness of your body, and the roundness of your face, it leaves you feeling upset, angry, unpretty.

Gently, you wipe away the droplets that have trailed down your cheeks. You won’t let him see you like this, and maybe it’s best you don’t see him at all, because he’s sure to get dissatisfied with you one day, and when he does- when he leaves. It’ll hurt less if you no longer hold any ties.

With that set in mind, you move through the day tiptoeing around corners, looking over your shoulder for that familiar bedhead. Each time you hear his voice throughout the halls you freeze, holding your breath as you hide in the nearest place you can, hoping that he won’t see you. 

But in the end, you know, your game of one-sided hide and seek will come to an end eventually because he’ll be waiting for you just outside that classroom door as soon as the bell rings. And when you see him, he’s going to ask. Ask why you’ve been avoiding him.

The ringing fills your ears much earlier than you expected, but your heart thunders louder. Packing up your belongings you make sure to keep your head hung low. Eyes diverted towards the floor as you try your best to get out of the small room as quickly as possible. However, the gentle grip around your wrist makes you freeze. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

“What are you talking about Tetsurou?”

Looking up at him, fake smile plastered on your face, you can see it in his eyes. He knows you’re lying.

“Please tell me what’s wrong y/n… Did I do something?”

The tears return once more, wetting your lashes as you look at him, 

“I just…- She’s so much more attractive than me… Tall- skinny”

And suddenly it strikes him, he feels guilty and utterly stupid as he gazes at you.

“Kitten… You’re just as attractive, if not more so. I love everything about you.”

“-But Tetsu, you deserve so much better…”

Your voice hitches and the tears finally spill. The sight breaks him, and he gently pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Listen to me. You could look any way you wanted to, but I will always think you are stunning. If you want to take healthy steps to lose weight then that’s fine- you’ll be beautiful, and if you don’t you are still beautiful.”

His grip tightens slightly as he uses his hand to wipe away the tears.

“I love you for you and in my eyes, you will always be gorgeous… I am so sorry that I haven’t made you feel that way.”

The sincerity in his voice eases you, and you slowly find yourself melting into his touch.

“Thank you, Tetsu… I love you too.”

“Of course baby, and I’ll do my best to make sure you feel good every day.”

In your mind, Akaashi came from the world of the wealthy and beautiful. The standards in his world though very similar to your own, seemed so much higher- so much more prominent.

And as a result, you were very much nervous when he approached you one day, asking if you would accompany him as his date to a party being hosted by a close family business partner. You accepted- albeit very reluctantly, but, the gentle smile that spread across his lips made it all seem worth it.

The thought is what you keep in your mind, especially as you walk through large double doors, arm looped around his own as the two of you enter the party just behind his parents. 

It’s just as grand as you expected it to be, leaving you awestruck. Men and women, boys and girls, each one holding themselves high, but you suppose that would be easy if you looked as though you were a model who was meant to be on the runway. 

Your grip on Akaashi’s arm tightens, the sudden wave of anxiety that flows through your body as you glance around doesn’t go unnoticed by Akaashi, who gives you a glance of reassurance, setting you at ease for the time being.

And as time passes, you find that it’s not so bad. The two of you stick to the corners of the room, Akaashi being someone who even though wasn’t opposed to socializing, wouldn’t necessarily go out of his way to interact with everyone, especially if you weren’t exactly comfortable in the first place.

That is until a girl, petite and in your opinion, downright beautiful approached the two of you. Her aura is bright and welcoming, and the way Akaashi greets her so fondly has you anxiously gripping his arm once more.

As you talk, you come to know that she’s Akaashi’s childhood friend who had moved away quite some time ago. But at the same time, you also come to realize that she is what is to be considered the standardized perfect. She is cute, petite, and downright sweet. And that terrifies you even more as you come to think that they look good together, she fits in his world, and you do not. 

Excusing yourself from the conversation as it slowly becomes more painful, you make your way to the drink table, before exiting to an open balcony for fresh air. You can still see them from where you are, but at least you no longer have to carry the burden of continuing the conversation.

Diverting your eyes to your drink, you manage to catch your appearance in the reflection of the glass. Examining your features from head to toe and letting your mind wander, 

And the longer you stare, the more distaste you find in your appearance. From the rolls of skin to the gentle plumpness of your body, and the roundness of your face. You wonder how Akaashi could ever find you attractive because you think you are anything but. 

You don’t even realize the tears that come to pool in your eyes, wetting your lashes and spilling to your cheeks. And you definitely don’t notice the presence of the boy behind you who gently lays his hands on your plush hips, pulling you close to his body.

“She’s pretty…”

He’s shocked, to say the least, he had noticed you were uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t have guessed it was because of her.

“But so are you…”

Turning to face him, his frown only deepens at the sight of your tear stained cheeks.

“I don’t belong here Keiji… Look at me, I’m not even half as pretty or petite as any of those girls in there I-”

Cutting you off with a soft kiss to your lips, he presses his forehead against yours.

“y/n… I am looking at you, and all I see is someone so beautiful inside and out that it makes my heartache with how much love I feel. I love you alone and no one could ever convince me otherwise. You are beautiful, I only have eyes for you y/n.”

“Thank you Keiji, I love you too.”

“Of course y/n- you deserve to feel just as beautiful as you are.”

It doesn’t take a genius to acknowledge that Iwaizumi has the body of a god. He’s simply beautiful. And while he may not have fans flocking to him like Oikawa, that doesn’t mean he isn’t accustomed to the more than occasional admirer.

Even now, after it’s been made official, a couple of months into dating that you and Iwaizumi are publicly in a relationship, every once in a while, someone will try their hand at stealing away his heart. 

None have been successful so far, but the looming anxiety that settles itself in your chest has you worrying. That one day, when you least expect it, he’ll leave. Because Iwaizumi Hajime can have anyone he wanted… So why would he want you? And that thought runs through your mind constantly, with every pretty admirer, tall, or short, thin, and downright pretty. 

The worry embeds itself within your mind, and you find yourself actively trying to avoid Iwaizumi while not raising suspicions. 

Today at lunch, you’ll sit a little further away from him, and as you walk from one class to another, you’ll choose a different way to avoid seeing Iwaizumi until you get to a class the two of you share. Even at practice, you settle yourself on the second-row balcony, enough to say that you’re there, while still being out of his way. You’ve convinced yourself that this is for the best because it’s easier to let go when there’s nothing to hold onto.

Your mind is snapped from your thoughts as the gym door opens. A girl, small and pretty stands at the door. Even from where you sit, you can see the gentle flush of pink that decorates her cheeks, and you figure that perhaps she’s here for Oikawa… That is until Iwaizumi follows her out, and suddenly you find yourself holding your breath. 

Waiting patiently, the ever growing anxiety only seems to worsen, seconds turn to a minute, and a minute turns to a couple, and you can’t stay in this gym anymore. It’s like the walls are beginning to cave in. 

Quietly, you gather your belongings, tiptoeing your way out through the nearest exit in hopes of going unnoticed.

Upon leaving the gym you finally let the pooling tears spill, decorating your cheeks and spilling to the dirt in little droplets.

“y/n!”

The sudden call of your name is enough to make you halt until a pair of arms engulf your plump body jerking you forward.

“Hajime…?”

“Shittykawa said you looked upset- are you crying?”

Startled that you had been caught, you quickly wipe them away, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie… Baby tell me what’s wrong.”

Taking in a breath, you let it spill, the words leaving you in a flood.

“You just deserve so much more than me Hajime… That girl, she’s so pretty and skinny… And I just thought that maybe you’d leave me for someone more beauti-”

“Leave you?”

His hold tightens.

“Dammit y/n, don’t say that! You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. So what if she’s skinny. I don’t care about that because in my eyes you are stunning both inside and out.”

He cups your chubby cheeks between his hands pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

“You are the only one I will ever need in my life... Because- I fucking love you! And I will be damned if you don’t see that.”

Your eyes widen in shock… He’s never said that before.

“Hajime… I love you too. Thank you.”

#haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader headcanons #hq x reader headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu angst #hq angst #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kuroo x reader headcanons #akaashi x reader headcanons #iwaizumi x reader headcanons #kuroo headcanons #akaashi headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons #haikyuu imagines

[labelleofbelfastcity]

fig and gorgug’s excellent adventure

word count: 1.7k

read on ao3 here!

“Bill, my most esteemed colleague…”

Fig looks over at a quietly snoring Gorgug, his face softly lit by the shadows of Bill and Ted on her crystal. Even after a year of knowing each other, a few months of which were spent in a cramped cell together, she hadn’t known he snores. It had never been quiet enough, she had never been quiet enough, to notice that about him.

If Fig focuses, she can feel the rumble of the tour bus against her back, and, if she leans her head against the metal wall by her shoulder, the vibrations of tires over asphalt rattle around in her skull. They’ve only been on the road for a week, with just two concerts under their belts, and Fig is already kind of exhausted.

It’s a lot. The managers and the calls home and the makeup assignments for missed schoolwork. She probably wouldn’t even be doing the latter, but Gorgug spends his allotted midmorning time sitting at their extremely tiny table, with papers of Barbarian Theory and Engineering 1 scattered around him, and she’d feel like an asshole to just watch.

Fig hasn’t been sleeping well, either. The little bunk seems to press in around her, shoving her into an even smaller version of herself. Which feels stupid to complain about, because Gorgug is over a foot taller than her, since his growth spurt over the summer, and he’s sleeping just fine.

As if to prove her point, Gorgug shifts in his sleep, curling closer into Fig’s side. It’s just past one in the morning, and they have a gig tomorrow so Fig should really be sleeping too, but she’d felt like crying, for some reason, alone in her bunk. She’d crawled into Gorgug’s, instead, and pulled up Bill and Ted while he blinked blearily at her. It didn’t take him much longer to fall back asleep—now with his arm tucked around Fig’s shoulders—and Fig continues to hide from her emotions by watching Ted philosophize.

“Hey, Gorgug,” Fig hisses, burrowing her head into his chest in a way she knows will stick him with her horns. “Gorgug.”

“Hrmgh,” he grumbles, shifting more so that Fig can’t really poke him anymore. “Go to sleep.”

“No. Gorgug, hey. Come on, dude, I have an idea.” She doesn’t, really, more the idea of an idea, just like how Bill and Ted only operate on negative brian power and a pretty homoerotic bromance.

Homoerotic. She must’ve texted Kristen too much yesterday.

“Sleep is my idea,” Gorgug says, but it’s more of a sigh and a yawn wrapped up together and stretched like a yawning cat.

Fig’s brain unhelpfully supplies an image of sleepy Riz—ears cocked all funny and pupils absolutely giant. She shoves it back into the little chest lovingly marked “Bad Kids” that she’d constructed the second they drove away from Elmville because Fig is great at compartmentalizing and hiding her feelings. Totally.

“I’m bored, I want to do my idea.”

“You’re watching Bill and Ted.”

“No, I’m not. I’m talking to you.”

“Then stop talking to me and go to sleep.”

Fig huffs, about to say something just into the realm of mean, but then she feels Gorgug smile against the top of her head, and she relaxes a little.

“What’s your idea?” He asks, still sleepy, but also endearing in that goofy and sweet Gorgug way.

There’s a pause, while Fig tries to come up with her idea. The bus trundles along and Bill and Ted continue to kidnap historical figures. Finally, she says, much quieter than is warranted, like it’s some big secret she’s been holding close to her heart, “I’m gonna find a chronomancer so we can go back in time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug yawns again.

“Absolutely not, Augefort doesn’t have Rufus energy.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Maybe not a chronomancer, then, but like, someone who’s fucked with time, ya know. It would be cool to hang out with someone who’s fucked with time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug says, before amending, “No. Wait. Rufus.”

“Yeah, Rufus,” Fig agrees. “Except if Rufus were hot, I think it would be more fun if our Rufus was hot.”

“Rufus is already hot. He’s got… sunglasses.”

Fig giggles and Gorgug snorts too. “You need your eyes checked, dude.”

“We watched the,” he yawns, “the Matrix last month. That’s what you said about Neo.”

“Uh. Neo is Keanu Reeves so just, automatically hot. Which. Speaking of. Bill and Ted are right there, dude.”

Gorgug laughs, quietly, voice still gummy with sleep, as he pokes her gently in the side, “I thought you liked older men.”

Fig makes a face that is very scandalized and very affronted. “That doesn’t mean I like Rufus.”

Gorgug shrugs, as best he can while in cuddle-mode. “I don’t know…”

Fig huffs and whacks him on the arm. “Maybe we should go to sleep.”

“Works for me,” he says, and settles back down.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t go back to bed, Gorgug. I’m still talking.”

He grumbles and turns his head even further into hers, trying to shield his eyes from the crystal’s light. “Watch your movie.”

“This is our movie, Gorgug. It’s ours.”

“It’s too late for it to be ‘our’ anything.”

“You’re no fun, you know that? No fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Gorgug says, way too sincerely for her to continue down that line of teasing.

“Hey, no, it’s fine. You’re tired, I should let you rest.”

Gorgug’s hand moves where it’s on her shoulder, rubbing over her sleep shirt, and then pausing, “Hey, is this mine?”

“Um,” Fig says, because it is, in fact, his. He’d left one of his Owlbears t-shirts on a chair, right after they unpacked all their stuff onto the tour bus, and she’d thought about it for approximately three seconds before snatching it and chucking it at her pile of clothes.

That first night, neither her nor Gorgug had gotten any sleep, sitting on the floor of the bus between their bunks, anxiously going over lyric and style choices for the next night’s show. So the shirt had waited until after their first concert, when both of them had been too tired to do much more than change out of sweaty, smoke-filled clothes and fall into their respective beds. It had smelled comfortingly of the Thistlesprings’ homemade fabric softener, but Fig’s varying states of cleanliness have not helped the smell stick around.

Now, though, cuddled up against Gorgug’s chest, she doesn’t miss the shirt’s smell. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“It’s okay if you took it,” Gorgug says, cracking a small smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Since when do you have an eye for fashion, Mr. Hoodies-In-Summer?”

He reaches around and pokes her on the cheek, “Hey, my hoodies are a catch for women ages thirteen to twenty-eight.”

“We did sell, like, a literal ton last night,” Fig says, snorting.

There’s a lull in the conversation. Bill and Ted shred some sick air guitar.

“...It’s a little weird,” Gorgug says, eventually, in that introspective tone of his that promises paternal questioning.

“What is?”

“That we’re sophomores in high school and have so many people, like, caring about us. Or, I mean, watching us. Like, I guess we’re famous, or something? That’s weird.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.” Fig’s been too caught up in the whole being famous thing to think about what it means for her, a fifteen year old, to be famous. She isn’t a fan of thinking about it, actually, and decides to put it off even further. This is why Gorgug’s the thoughtful, considerate one.

“That’s probably why you’re better at songwriting than I am,” Gorgug muses. “You just do what feels right.”

Fig shifts a little, so she can look at him better, his features cast in the shifting colors of the crystal. “Dude, that’s like all drumming is. Like, just playing your emotions and not overthinking it. And you’re literally the world’s best drummer.”

“Oh,” Gorgug laughs, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“You are. What other teenager gets to go on a tour while they’re still in high school?”

“Um. The Jonas Brothers?”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if you compare our music to the Jonas Brothers again I will stab you with my horns.”

“I really don't think they’re poky enough to do that—”

“Stab, Gorgug. With force. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

“Wo-ah,” Ted says, on the crystal.

“Wicked,” Bill chimes in.

“What if we talked like them at our next concert?” Fig asks, “Just come out with full Bill and Ted voices and keep them up the whole show.”

“That sounds… hard.”

“No, it would be fun! Like, um,” Fig switches into the voice, drawing out her vowels and smiling dumbly, “we’ll totally get babes like this, dude.”

“You can get princess babes,” Gorgug says. “I’ve got Zelda. That’s basically the same thing.”

“Oh my god, you’re too cute,” Fig burrows closer to him, back in her usual voice.

She can tell Gorgug’s blushing by the bashful tone of his silence. “Um, thanks. I should probably call her tomorrow.”

“Do you mind if I join too? I really like her, she’s nice. And sick as hell.”

“Yeah, that would be fun! We can show her our set, maybe.”

“Totally! If school wasn’t on right now we could’ve brought her along.”

“I don’t know, wouldn’t that, like, Beatles us?”

“Did you seriously just mention another boy band? Also, beyond that, did you use the Beatles as a verb?”

“Er.”

“Sometimes, I wonder how you ever made it into the punk-rock scene. And then I remember that I invited you.”

“Thanks for doing that,” Gorgug says, wrapping his other arm around Fig’s shoulders. “I never really said it before, but, thank you. This has, um, it’s meant a lot to me.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, dude.”

“It’s, like, kind of everything right now, Fig.”

“Oh.”

“So, I guess, um, thank you. For inviting me to join a band with you and taking me on tour.”

“I, uh… Of course. Thanks for being my drummer, Gorgug. I’ll always take you on my adventures.”

“And I’ll always go with you.”

Bill says, “Excellent,” on the crystal screen, smiling at Ted with big eyes.

Yeah, Fig thinks, as Gorgug sighs and smiles into the top of her head. Excellent.

#bellewrites #this one was short so i figured id post it like this #fantasy high #dimension 20 #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #i want more content about them so i decided to make it #fic #fanfic #hopefully the formatting works if it doesnt i sincerely apologize

[annerbhp]

how you get the girl

(Harry/Ginny, meet-cute, muggle AU)

the ice-skating ring is full of fumbling people, but Ginny finds one person in extra need of help

Hot Dad is back again, Ginny texts Demelza.

Putting down her phone, she sells a round of tickets to a loud group of teenagers, passing them off to Stephanie to get them set up with skates. Their cheeks are all red with the cold evening air, the sun having just dipped behind the buildings. Mariah Carey is crooning about Christmas over the slightly staticky speakers. It’s all perfectly cheery and lovely, and even Ginny can’t help but smile at it, this season long having been a favorite of hers, no matter how old she gets.

Which probably explains how after working full days, she still lets herself get dragged into volunteering at the seasonal outdoor ice-skating rink set up in the old city center as a way to earn money for various local charities. She’s an easy mark, which her friend running the event never fails to capitalize on.

The obvious first-date skaters are the best in the evenings, the romanticism of the idea wearing off real quick the first time one of them knocks the other down and their asses get real familiar with the unforgiving ice. Ginny likes the look on their faces when she offers them one of the walkers little kids use sometimes.

Her phone buzzes with Demelza’s response.

Okay either bang him or stop texting me because this is pathetic and you know it.

Ginny sighs. I imagine his exceptionally beautiful wife would have a problem with that.

The wife you have no idea if exists or not? Seriously, I don’t have time for this. You’re cut off talking about this.

I need a new friend.

Ha! Good luck with that.

Ginny tosses her phone down in disgust. The worst part is that Demelza is right. This is beneath her dignity. But Hot Dad has been here with his son the last four nights straight, and selling tickets and collecting used equipment isn’t all that engrossing, especially considering Ginny is one of dozens of volunteers. Meaning she has a lot of time to stare and let her imagination get away with her. And her imagination’s favorite subject these days is Hot Dad. Once again here tormenting her as he wobbles around the rink with his son. 

She can’t really tell how old he is, a knit beanie always pulled low over his head and a beard covering his face. He’s got glasses too. None of which makes it hard to see how attractive he is. (One time he forgot his scarf and she nearly had to take a break when he laughed at his son and the tendons in his neck stood out as he threw his head back and she thought how lick-able it looked.) He’s on the lanky side, which on skates occasionally makes him look like a newborn wobbly-legged foal, and even that is somehow charming.

Or Ginny is just really hard up and needs to get a life. Which is what Demelza loves to say. Also that Ginny is a workaholic. And sure, it’s been a hot minute since her last date. She just has a lot going on right now. Besides, this guy is definitely more than likely married.

So instead, she is going to happily, harmlessly ogle Hot Dad while he stumbles around the rink with his son, who has shown little to no improvement over the last week. In fact, if possible, they both seem to be getting worse.

Fifteen minutes later, Hot Dad nearly takes out a pair of teenaged girls, blocking the entire flow of skaters as he stops to thoroughly apologize while his son stands nearby and nearly laughs himself down onto the ice. And then actually goes down onto the ice.

Jesus.

Talk about the blind leading the blind. They’re going to cause a pile-up, she tells herself. It’s the only reason she grabs a pair of skates and heads over to help.

Really.

“Excuse me,” she says as she approaches.

He looks up and, shit, his eyes are like the most intense green she’s ever seen, and also, he’s definitely younger than she first thought, closer to her own age. But also young enough that he must have been Hot Young Teen Dad when his kid was born. But still just as hot as she imagined him to be.

Dammit.

“Not that I don’t admire your persistence,” she says, helping the kid to his feet, “but you two are rapidly becoming a hazard.”

Hot Dad straightens his glasses, looking sheepish. “We definitely are. But it’s an emergency, I’m afraid.”

“An emergency?” Ginny asks, trying to ignore the thrill of finally hearing his voice for the first time. And what a nice voice it is.

He grins. “Ted’s trying to impress a girl.”

“Harry!” the kid shrieks, looking mortified.

Ginny blinks, both cataloging Hot Dad’s name—Harry—and noticing the strange use of it by his son. Maybe he’s in that rebellious teenage phase where he calls his parents by their first names?

He’s still wearing gloves, dammit. Not that it matters. She doesn’t have time for Hot Maybe Married Dad right now.

Really.

“And you’re somehow supposed to help with that?” she shoots back before she can think better of it.

But rather than looking offended, Hot Dad—Harry—just grins back at her. “A hopeless case, I suppose.”

“Depends on how this is meant to impress a girl.”

“He’s going to ask her out for the first time,” Harry says, smiling at his son as Ted looks even more mortified.

“To go ice skating,” Ginny surmises. “Have you considered the movies, or frozen yogurt or, I dunno, anything not on ice?”

Ted shakes his head, looking earnest in the way only a young teen can. “It has to be ice skating.”

Ginny sighs. “I suppose I could give you some pointers. At least keep you from being a total disgrace.”

The kid gives her a dubious look. “You think you could?”

Oh, now it’s on. “You doubt me?” she asks, pushing back on her skates. Without another word, she does a quick tick around the circle, doing the second half backwards. With a quick spin, she comes to stop in front of them at the last possible moment in a showy shower of ice shavings.

Harry looks impressed, eyebrows lifted. “Were you a skater?”

“Hockey,” she says succinctly, used to people making assumptions. Then again, she’s hardly a delicate thing to be twirling around in tutus. Not that she couldn’t if she wanted to, thank you very much. But she’s more into smacking people with sticks than doing toe loops.

“I think this is your best hope, Ted,” Harry says. “The ice angels have smiled down on you.”

Ginny bites back the urge to clarify that she is in no way an angel and would be happy to prove it to him. Instead, she focuses on the kid, who she can’t look down on all that much considering he’s nearly at her height already.

“What do you say?”

Ted lets out a breath. “Please.”

She smiles. “Okay. But before we start, I need to know one thing. This girl you’re asking out. What are you going to do if she says no?”

His eyes widen, giving Harry a panicked look. “Oh, god. Is she going to say no?”

He pats his shoulder. “I think she’s more trying to make sure you aren’t going to use her powers for evil.”

“Pretty much,” Ginny says.

“I don’t understand,” Ted says, brow furrowed.

Ah, the innocence of youth.

“For example.” Harry turns towards Ginny. “I don’t think I got your name?”

“Ginny,” she says, trying to ignore the quiver she feels as his gaze falls intently on her.

He smiles, holding out his hand. She slips her gloved hand into his, shaking firmly. “Nice to meet you, Ginny. I’m Harry.”

“Hello, Harry,” she says, their hands still clasped between them.

He places his other hand on the back of hers, the gesture somehow endearing even as it’s terribly old-fashioned. “Would you go to dinner with me?”

She nearly blurts out a yes before remembering that they are playacting. And he’s probably married. And they’re standing in front of his son. “Sorry,” she says. “Dating customers is against the rules.”

Harry smiles at her—fuck, that is not okay. “Okay,” he says, letting go of her hand. “Sorry if I bothered you. I hope you have a great day.”

“You, too,” she says.

Harry turns back to his son. “There you go.”

“But that wasn’t a no,” Teddy points out.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “It was. If someone wants to go out with us, they’ll say yes. She doesn’t have to explain why or justify it. Plus, do you really want to go out with someone you had to convince?”

Okay, and now Ginny is not just lusting after him, but a little bit in love with the asshole too.

“No,” Ted says, frowning. “I guess not. But what would you do now?”

Harry puts a hand to his chest like he’s nursing a painful wound. “We slink back to our caves like men, feel sorry for ourselves for a little bit, and then pretend it never happened. And definitely don’t ask again.”

“But she’s at my school! I’ll see her every day. Won’t that be weird?”

Ginny expects a pep talk, don’t worry, of course she’ll say yes, but instead Harry slings an arm over Ted’s shoulders. “It might be weird for a while, I admit. But don’t be a pain in the ass and you’ll both get over it. Of course, she might also say yes. Is the potential weirdness and embarrassment worth the chance that she might say yes?”

A look of determination crosses his features. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “It’s worth her maybe saying no, if it means she might also say yes.”

“Well then, I think you have your answer.”

And now Ginny is pretty much fully in love with him. Ugh, her life is the worst.

“Come on,” she says, gesturing for Ted to come closer. “Let’s try a few rounds.”

She spends the next fifteen minutes giving him a few key pointers, enough that he’s not a complete hazard, but he’s still a long way from dating form. For one, the kid appears to have two left feet. Which, once he warms up to her a bit (and informs her that he much prefers to go by Teddy), his clumsiness pales in comparison to his general politeness and wicked sense of humor. She’s not sure what he’d say if she said those were going to go a lot further for him than his ice-skating skills.

They eventually come back to a stop next to Harry where he waits against the wall off to one side. They’ve just made it when Teddy careens over and nearly face plants into the ice. Harry reaches out for him, only to almost lose his own footing.

What a pair, Ginny thinks, not even bothering to hold back her laughter.

“Your son seems to have inherited your clumsiness,” she says once they are all steadily on their feet again.

Harry laughs, beaming at Teddy, but the kid just lets out a dismissive sound. “He’s not my dad. As if.”

“You could only be so lucky,” Harry says, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Remus may be smarter than me, but I am far better at pretty much anything requiring coordination.”

“That remains to be seen,” Ginny says, Teddy letting out an appreciative laugh.

Harry lifts an eyebrow, like maybe she’s twinged his ego. “Ice is not my natural environment.”

“Really,” she drawls. “Then what is your natural environment?”

“Pretty much anything but ice. I’m not picky,” he says, and somehow the unspoken arrogance is attractive. 

Ginny tilts her head to the side. “I think I’d need proof to be able to judge that adequately.”

“Would you,” he says, voice lowering.

Fuck, the ice should be melting in here.

They hold each other’s gazes a bit longer than is probably proper, Teddy looking between them.

Ginny gives herself a little shake, turning back to the kid. “So, Teddy. I have some bad news and some good news.”

“Okay,” he says, looking wary.

“The bad news is that winter is likely to end before you master ice skating. I mean, you can keep trying. You’ll get better just through practice. But it’s going to take a while.”

He sighs, apparently not horribly surprised to hear it. “And the good news?”

“Well, why do you want to take this girl ice skating?”

“Because she loves ice skating.”

“Is she good?”

He nods. “She’s really good.”

“There’s your good news. And because I like you, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Tell her you’d like to take her ice skating because you know she likes it so much. And then tell her that you aren’t very good, but you’re willing to try and you’d appreciate it if she’d help you. Basically, what I am saying is don’t try to hide that you aren’t great at this yet. Just focus on enjoying being there with her. Honest is so much better than cool.”

She expects him to fight that, but instead he looks thoughtful, eventually nodding. “Okay.” He turns to Harry. “Can we be done now? My butt is so cold I can’t feel it anymore.”

Harry ruffles his hair again. “Yeah. I’ll take you home.”

Teddy heads off towards the exit, and he has improved at least a little bit, Ginny notices as she follows slightly behind. Harry keeps pace with her, even as he wobbles his way along, never more than an arm’s length from the edge.

“That was some good advice,” he says. 

“Well,” Ginny says, “what’s the point of suffering through all that teenage angst if not to try to save the younger generation from repeating your mistakes?”

Harry laughs. “I hear that.”

They sit on the benches, pulling off their skates.

“I can take your skates here,” she says, stepping back behind the counter, ignoring the person already waiting to run this part of the booth.

He hands the skates up over the counter. His gloves are off now and she can see his perfectly naked fingers. Interesting.

“Thanks,” Teddy says.

“Good luck!” she calls out after him.

He waves, heading for the exit.

Harry lingers another moment, pulling his beanie off and revealing dark hair in complete disarray. “I’m realizing I’ve backed myself into a corner,” he says, leaning against the counter.

“How exactly?” she asks.

He drags a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t very well ask you out again without being a hypocrite.”

“Hmm,” she says, nodding solemnly at him. “That is a tricky spot you’ve put yourself in. I suppose sometimes it’s hard to live by our principles.”

He gives her a sad, lopsided smile. “You have no idea.” He pushes back from the counter. “It was nice meeting you, Ginny.”

“You, too, Harry,” she says.

He turns and walks away. Ginny eyes his ass, and, god, it really is a thing of beauty. He doesn’t even look back, and he’s going to do it. He’s really just going to leave her alone.

Amazing.

She counts three long beats before coming around to the other side of the counter and calling out after him. “Harry.”

He stops, turning back to look at her, waiting for her to catch up.

“For the record,” she says, “dinner never would have worked.”

“Sure,” he says, hands in his pockets.

“I already ate, and I’m stuck here until nine,” she says. “How about I buy you a drink instead?”

“You sure?” he says, voice slightly teasing. “Because I’d hate to have a date who had to be convinced.”

“Oh, believe me,” Ginny says. “You don’t need to do any convincing.”

He looks delighted, a smile lighting up his face, and Ginny is still having a hard time believing he’s real. “I’ll swing back around at nine them.”

She nods. “Looking forward to seeing you in your natural environment,” she drawls, giving him a wink.

He almost immediately nearly bumps into a trash can.

She lifts an eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head. “Still shaking off the ice-skating legs.”

“Of course,” she says.

“Harry!” Teddy shouts from the exit.

“Coming!” Harry yells back. He looks at her. “Nine.”

She nods. “Nine.”

Giving her one last lingering look, he turns, giving her a great view as he walks away. Once out on the sidewalk, she can see Harry wrap his arm around Teddy’s neck, giving him a playful noogie as the kid fights him off.

Ginny smiles, watching them disappear before heading back to her station.

Back behind the counter, she picks up her phone, pulling up her conversation with Demelza.

Hot dad is not a dad at all, is gloriously single, and I am seeing him at nine tonight.

Get it, girl.

#annerbfic #hinny #seriously what is this #meet cute #american AU i guess #because I couldn't be fussed to mess with Britishisms #still on my indulgent bullshit lads #not lucky #but something equally ridiculous

[writingblock101]

White Flag (Jason Todd x Reader)

I’ve never written for DC before, but I’m a big fan of the Robins, especially Red Hood and Nightwing. This is long, so I broke it into two parts. The title comes from White Flag by Bishop Briggs. Rough sex is cool and all but you know what else is cool? Laughing during sex. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. 

Summary: One night, while staking out the Joker who’s making moves in Gotham, you get captured. 

Word count: 5,000 

Warnings: Unprotected sex, violence 

There are defining moments in one’s life: falling in love, getting married, graduating from college, having a child, but unfortunately, they aren’t always happy memories. You experienced your first defining moment when your brother was murdered. 

Gotham was an infamously dangerous city, crawling with thugs, thieves, and criminals. Murders, rapes, and bombings were a common staple on the news, but despite the well-known danger, no one ever expects them or a loved one to be the next victim. 

As you stood over the grave of your beloved older brother, your parents made plans to leave this forsaken, wretched city, but you knew you couldn’t leave. This city owned a piece of your soul and buried it six feet underground in a coffin. You stared at your brother's headstone and made a silent promise: You would do everything in your power to prevent this tragedy from happening to anyone else. 

Your parents left years ago, but you stayed and finished your college degree. In the wake of your brother’s death and your parents' departure, you withdrew from everyone. Your world paused, stuck in one spot while the rest of the world, the real world, continued to move. Your friends graduated, your parents left Gotham, and your brother’s body decomposed in a pine box six feet under, leaving you as an empty husk of a person. 

Then you discovered your powers. 

Ironically, in one of your lowest moments, you discovered your ability to emit a blinding light from your whole body. The initial discovery was an accident that left you temporarily blind for two days, but then you learned control and slowly began to crawl your way out of the six-foot hole you dug yourself into. 

You took fighting classes, graduated from college, and bought a gun. You had watched your life pass by for two years where you played an inactive role and passively watched murders, robberies, and rapes continue to plague the news, but now, you had a promise to keep. 

The Lightning Strike was born. 

Although the Lightning Strike filled your life with new purpose, it didn’t chase away your demons, but things got better after you met Jason. 

You’d just finished loading your car with groceries and was going to return your cart when a thug snuck up behind you and held a knife to your throat. 

“Give me your money, lady!” The man demanded. 

You sighed with an eye roll but raised your hands in surrender. I should’ve just waited to go grocery shopping until the morning. 

You grabbed his wrist, yanking the knife down and away from your throat, then stepped backwards and flung the thug over your shoulder. He slammed against the ground with a grunt then you pulled out your handgun, pointing it in the man’s face. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun and he froze in place. 

“Fuck off,” You growled. 

The thug nodded frantically and stumbled to his feet then sprinted away in the opposite direction. 

“Well,” A voice interrupted. “I was going to offer to help, but you don’t seem like the damsel in distress type.”

You turned to see a handsome man smirking at you with dark hair, deep blue eyes, and tall broad shoulders wearing a worn leather jacket. You chuckled, clicking the safety on your gun. 

“I always hated those stories as a kid, besides, there’s no such thing as damsels in distress in Gotham, only dead bodies.” 

The man raised his eyebrows. 

“You’re not wrong. It’s always nice to see when someone fights back.” 

“I can’t let Batman have all the fun.” 

He chuckled. 

“That would certainly be a crime. I would hate for that Glock to get dusty.” 

You raised your eyebrows, impressed. 

“You a gun guy?” 

He shrugs. 

“I know my way around. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out late in Gotham?” 

You glanced over at the grocery store with a smirk. 

“Oh you know, doing what anybody else would be doing at a grocery store… Hunting for elephants.” 

The man laughed with a shake of his head. 

“I guess I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?” 

You shrugged with a smile. 

“A little bit, but you’re cute enough that I can let it slide.” 

His eyebrows shot up at the compliment and another confident smirk crosses his face. 

“Yeah? Well, I am cute enough to get your number?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t usually give my number to random strangers in grocery store parking lots,” You trailed off with a coy smile. 

“Stranger danger,” He agreed then held out his hand. “My name is Jason.”

“I’m Y/N,” You introduced, shaking his hand. 

“Well, Y/N, now that we aren’t strangers, how about that number?” 

You tossed your head back laughing, a blush crossing your face. 

“Sure, Jason.” 

Giving Jason your number was one of the best decisions you ever made. While your relationship isn’t perfect, you make it work. Jason helped you reform who you once were and you taught Jason he is worthy of love. It seemed almost like fate when you two discovered both of your shared “hobby”.

For a long time, you did the vigilante thing by yourself, then a close friend, Mia offered to join the operation as a second set of eyes from behind a computer screen. While the addition of Mia was nice, having Red Hood as an extra layer of protection set your mind at ease. Despite handling crime in Gotham with different methods, the other is always there to help in a pinch. 

. . .

You wake up on Jason’s chest, morning light filtering through your curtains. You lift your head to check the time (9:45 am), then sighed and lay back on Jason’s chest. He shifts, his arm curling tighter around your back. Your thoughts drift to your mental list of errands to complete before either of you patrol tonight. 

We definitely need more groceries, I’ve got to drop my mom’s birthday present off at the post office, and I need to pick up my dress and Jason’s suit from the dry cleaners… Maybe Jason can do that and drop the package off for me then I’ll get groceries. Ugh, our apartment is a wreck, we need to clean. 

Jason’s arm flexes, pulling you closer to him as he takes a deep breath then opens his eyes with a groan. He looks down to see you lying awake on his chest and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Good morning,” You smile, tracing your fingers across Jason’s autopsy scar. 

“Good morning,” He whispers back in his hoarse morning voice. 

Jason catches your hand tracing across his scar and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“How long have you been up?” He asks, linking your fingers together and running his other hand up your spine. 

“Not long, I was just thinking about what we need to do before going on patrol tonight.” 

He hums in acknowledgment, trailing his hand under your shirt and kissing the top of your head. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly. 

“Is that my shirt?” Jason asks. 

“Maybe,” You tease. 

“Hm, looks good on you,” He whispers, and leans in for a long kiss. 

You kiss back then Jason releases your hand to run his calloused hands up your thighs, pulling your body flush against his. You run your hands down his chest, your thumbs pressing into his pecks then one hand slides down his body and begins rubbing his morning wood, trapped in his boxers. 

Jason groans into your mouth, his grip on your thighs tightening and his hips pressing into your hand. You smirk through the kiss then feels Jason’s tongue running along your lower lip. You open your mouth, deepening the kiss then Jason pulls you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. His hands slip under your shirt, following the curves of your sides before finding your breasts and gently kneading them. 

You pull your head back, your eyes closing with bliss and a soft sigh falls from your lips as Jason continues to rub your breasts, his fingers playing with your nipples. He uses one hand to guide your neck to his mouth and begins sucking a hickey on your soft skin. You sigh again, tangling your fingers into Jason’s thick hair and grinding your hips down on Jason. 

He smirks against your neck, and slides his hands down to your hips, guiding your thrusts, breathy sighs falling from both your lips. You push back against him hard, the head of Jason’s dick brushing against your clit through the fabric of his boxers. 

You sit up, bracing your hands on his chest and press against Jason harder. He groans, running his hands up your muscular thighs. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He asks. 

You smile with a light blush, continuing to push down on Jason. Jason drags your hips against him, adding his own thrusts. One particularly hard thrust causes your body to jolt and you let out a breathy moan. 

“Oh, Jay,” You breathe out. 

He grins in satisfaction, pulling you down for a kiss. 

“Absolutely gorgeous,” He mutters against your lips. 

You giggle, kissing him deeply. 

“Thank you, handsome.” 

Jason’s eyebrows rise as a cocky smirk graces his features and you sit up again, continuing to roll your hips. 

“Handsome, huh?” He asks, driving another hard thrust against you that causes both of your breaths to catch in your throats. 

“You-you heard me,” You sigh, your voice stuttering. 

“I don’t know about all that,” Jason trails off. 

“Well, I do” You hum, laying on top of him and pressing kisses down Jason’s jawline. “I think you’re gorgeous,” You press a kiss to a scar on his eyebrow, staring into his pretty dark blue eyes. 

“Thank you,” He whispers back, kissing you on the nose. “Let me up.” 

You roll off him for a moment, allowing Jason to sit up with his back against the headboard and push the covers down to his knees, revealing his boxers before pulling you back onto his lap. You cradle his face then presses a long kiss against his lips. Jason’s hands slip under your shirt again, stroking your sides and breasts then drags a hand down your body, his fingers finding your clit. 

You gasp into his mouth, bracing your hands on his shoulders and grinding against his hand as he rubbed small circles against the sensitive nub. Your hips twitch, pressing down hard against Jason who presses against you equally as hard. 

“Fuck, Jay,” You moan, tossing your head back. 

Jason takes the opportunity to suck another hickey onto your neck continuing to rub your clit then his hand slides down to your entrance, pushing a finger into you. He strokes your walls, just barely swirling his finger around. 

“Mm, so wet, who got you like that, baby?” Jason asks into your neck. 

“Some guy,” You smirk, sitting back to look Jason in the eye. “Really sexy.” 

“Really?” Jason hums then leans in and drags his teeth down your earlobe. “Tell me about him,” He whispers then sits back with a cocky smirk. 

“He’s got a jaw that could cut glass,” You run your finger down Jason’s sharp jaw. “And the body of a Greek god,” You press your hands against Jason’s chest. “The dark, brooding type, you know?” 

Jason chuckles kissing you. 

“You’re a dork,” He grins. 

“And you’re my angsty teenager,” You boop him on the nose. “Did I mention he’s got a stubborn streak a mile--” Jason crooks his finger inside you, rubbing your G-Spot causing you to choke on your words and gasp loudly. 

“What was that, princess?” Jason asks, kissing your jaw and adding another finger. 

You moan, digging your nails into his shoulders. 

“You seem to have choked on your words there,” He murmurs, speeding up his fingers. 

You moan again, your eyes squeezing shut before Jason slows his fingers and pulls out. 

“You’re an ass,” You breath, resting your forehead against his. 

“And your ass,” Jason slides his hands to the back of your thighs to squeeze your ass. “Is spectacular.” 

You grin. 

“Must be all the jumping off buildings,” Your hands find Jason’s muscular thighs. “It’s probably where you got these bad boys.” 

Jason chuckles. 

“You know, I never expected you to have a thing for my thighs,” He admits. 

“With thighs like these,” You squeeze his legs. “It’s hard not too.” 

Jason grins then kisses you again. 

“Sit up, baby,” He murmurs against your lips, helping pull you to your knees. 

You comply, sitting up on your knees long enough for Jason to pull his boxers off, freeing his erection. He squeezes your thighs again and gives you a long kiss as he guides you down. You slowly sink down him, both of you gasping once you reach the base. 

“Shit, baby,” He moans. “You feel amazing.” 

You pant for a moment then Jason pushes up into you, causing your eyes to fly open and dig your nails into Jason’s shoulders. Your mouth falls open as Jason does it again, staring you in the eye, the eye contact turning you on more. 

You push down on him, smirking when Jason’s mouth falls open, cursing quietly. He presses a searing kiss to your lips as he thrust into you again, you pushing down equally as hard. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” He groans, bitting your shoulder. 

You let out your own moan, bracing your hands on Jason’s shoulders and slowly bouncing. He pushes into you, the two of you working in slow tandem. One of Jason’s hands trails down your stomach, finding your clit again and rubbing slow circles on it. You curse, grinding down harder against Jason. Your hips jolt with each circle and your forehead rests against his shoulder as you continue grinding down against Jason. 

“God, baby, you feel so fucking good, so tight.” 

You lean back again, your movements getting shorter. Jason speeds up his fingers and thrust into you harder, knowing you’re getting close. 

“Ah, fuck, Jason,” You moan, your hips moving in their own accord. 

Then you pause, your nose itching. You stop, sinking all the way down on Jason again and pushes his hand away from your clit. Jason frowns. 

“You okay?” He asks, running his hands up your sides. 

You frown, your nose twitching and eyebrows furrowing. 

“This is going to be an interesting sensation,” You comment, feeling your face scrunching up. 

“What?” Jason asks then you sneeze into your elbow, causing your whole body to clench around Jason. “Holy shit!” He curses, digging his fingers into your sides. 

He pants for a moment, leaning his forehead to rest against your shoulder, his fingers still digging into your skin. 

“Sorry,” You giggle, running your fingers through Jason’s hair. 

He takes another breath, loosening his grip on you then chuckles and leans against the headboard. 

“Bless you, I guess.” 

You giggle. 

“Gotta say, that was a first,” You chuckle. 

“Me too,” Jason agrees. “Holy shit. I almost busted my load. How lame would that have been?” 

You grin, biting your lip. 

“You’re sexy enough that I think I could let it slide.” 

“Good to know my looks are good for something,” He rolls his eyes with a smile. 

You grin. 

“How’s that for keeping things interesting in the bedroom?” 

Jason throws his head back laughing, smacking a hand against his forehead. He straightens up, still grinning. 

“I don’t think there is anyone I could enjoy sex with more.” 

You lean in and kiss him, long and sensually. Jason slides his tongue into your mouth again, pulling your hips forward. You moan into his mouth, rolling your hips again. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it again and the two of you found your rhythm one more. 

Your kisses morphed into bumping teeth as you both grinned through your kisses then Jason catches your bottom lip, tugging on it playfully. He pulls your thighs up and thrusts into you at a new angle, brushing against you G-Spot causing your breath to hitch. 

“Fuck, right there,” You breath, digging your nails into the back of his neck. 

Jason complies, moving his lips to your neck, and thrusting at the same angle. You push down, feeling Jason’s fingers move faster on your clit as your organsm rapidly builds. 

“I’m close,” You say, gasping again. 

“Me too,” Jason groans against your neck. 

He pulls back from your neck and pulls you in for a long kiss. Your hips stutter and your back arches, pressing your chest to chest with Jason as his thrusts become sloppier. You gasp into Jason’s mouth then moan as you cum, your forehead against his. 

“Ah fuck, Jason,” You curl your fingers into Jason’s hair. 

He bites down on your shoulder and thrusts hard into you before cumming as well. He presses a weak kiss to your lips to which you reciprocate with an equally blissed-out kiss.  Jason pulls away from you, leaning his head back against the headboard as he pants, coming down from his organsm. You, also breathing heavily, lean forward and rest your head against Jason’s chest. He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to your forehead before barely lifting you to let his rapidly softening dick slip out of you. 

You two lay against each other, Jason running his fingers through your hair while you trace Jason’s autopsy scar. He leans down and kisses you, then reaches for the covers, and pulls it over the two of you. You shift your legs to drape over one side of Jason’s legs, one of his hands resting on your thigh, the other wrapped around your back. He rests his chin on your head, occasionally pressing kisses to the top of your head. 

“I need to go grocery shopping,” You say. “Can you pick up our dry cleaning?” 

“Yeah,” Jason’s chest vibrates as he talks. “What about that present for your mom?” 

“Do you mind dropping that off at the post office for me?” 

“Does it have the address on it?” 

“Yeah, it’s good to go.” 

“Then consider it done,” He turns to his cheek on top of your head. “You patrolling tonight?” 

“Mhm,” You hum. 

“You still watching the Joker?” 

“Mhm,” You say again and feel Jason’s jaw tighten. 

You turn so your straddling Jason again and look him in the eye as his hands find your hips. 

“I’m not going after him tonight, just gathering intel,” You clarify. 

“Why bother? Let’s just take him down.” 

“I’m waiting to see if he’s working with anyone else.” 

“He doesn’t usually play well with others.” 

“Yeah, but since getting out, he hasn’t been making any noise which is weird because he always wants to make sure we’re the first to know he’s running around again. I’m making sure I’m not about to go in unprepared.” 

“Why don’t I go with you? Just in case.” 

“There’s no need,” You reassure him, running your fingers through his hair. “You’d just be wasting your time.” 

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time if it meant I knew you were safe,” He tightens his grip on your hips. 

“I’m not going after Joker tonight,” You slide your hands down to settle on Jason’s waist. 

“Not until I’m there with you,” Jason stares you down. “I’m serious, Y/N.” 

“I won’t,” You promise, brushing his hair out of his face. 

“Good, because I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you,” He pulls you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head. 

“I’m going to be okay, Jay,” You tell him, kissing his ear. “I’m going to be careful, just like I always am,” You sit back, cradling his face. “Okay?” 

His hands come up, holding your wrists, and staring at you for a long moment. He finally sighs, giving in. 

“Okay. But if anything starts to go even slightly off-plan, you call me.” 

“I promise I will call you.” 

Despite your promise, Jason still looks unsure, but you know he will never be fully on board with your plan. It’s the Joker, he’s always extra cautious when it comes to that deranged clown. You lean in and kiss him sweetly. 

“I love you,” You smile. 

“I love you too,” Jason smiles back, giving you another kiss. 

“Come on, let’s go take a shower,” You say, swinging off Jason’s lap. 

He tosses his legs over the bed as you stand up then smacks your ass as you walk by. You jump then roll your eyes. 

“Come on horndog, we got shit to do,” You call over your shoulder.

. . .

After stopping a few muggings, car robberies, and preventing the rape of an extremely grateful teenage boy, you make your way to Joker’s warehouse. Once arriving at the warehouse, you scale the building to reach the long row of windows that run along the perimeter of the warehouse.

“M, you copy?” You double-check your comms. 

“Loud and clear,” Mia responds. “Any movement?” 

“Nothing I can see yet.”

Despite the lights being on, there appears to be no one inside, then the west side doors burst open and the Joker skips in, followed by two armed men dragging someone between them. 

“Shit,” You curse. “He’s got a hostage.” 

They drag the rather small hostage further into the room, but your breath catches in your throat once catching sight of the hostage’s face. 

“Fuck! It’s a kid!” 

“What?!” 

The little girl the two men are dragging can’t be any older than five. They toss her on a chair positioned in the middle of the room and tie off her hands and ankles, her head slumping forward. One of the men says something to the Joker that you don’t catch, but it causes the Joker to clap his hands together with delight and leave the room. 

“M, find me a way in,” You order, climbing to the roof. 

“Don’t you think you should call Red—” 

“I’m not going after Joker, I’m just grabbing the kid.” 

“But the Joker is in there! You know what he’ll do to you!” 

“Yeah, and I know what he’ll do to that kid the longer we argue!” 

“I don’t want you to get killed!” 

“I can handle myself!” You argue. “Geeze, you’re worse than Jason!” 

Mia sighs but you hear her typing in the background. 

“On the right corner of the roof, there’s a row of grates. The third one is the ventilation shaft that’ll take you directly to the room she’s in.” 

“Got it,” You confirm. 

“Be careful.” 

You jog over to the grates then lift the covering off the ventilation shaft before carefully lowering yourself down. 

At first, it’s a tight squeeze and awkward angle, but you manage to maneuver yourself into a crawling position and follow Mia’s directions to the main space of the warehouse. A few turns later and you are staring down at the top of the little girl’s head through another grate. The two armed men that brought the little girl in stand nearby on guard.

You lift the grate off the opening as quietly as possible then set it aside and reach for your gun in your thigh holster. You dig into one of your jacket pockets and pull out a silencer. The silencer won’t completely quiet the gun, but it’ll hopefully quiet it down enough to not alert the Joker. 

Once screwing the silencer on, you quickly shoot both men then gracefully swing down so you are dangling from the edge of the vent. You swing your legs then release and catch one of the iron support beams along the ceiling. You then fire your grappling hook and swing to the floor.

You rush to the little girl, squatting in front of her and cradling her face. 

“Are you hurt?” You ask, but the little girl doesn’t lookup. 

You frown, figuring she may be in shock, then use your other hand to lift the little girl’s head to check for injuries but your eyes widen at the maniacal grin on her face.

“Joker Toxin!” Mia yells in your ear.

“Shit!” You curse, as the little girl starts giggling and slowly stands up, seeming to have never been tied to the chair. 

You jump to your feet and yanked your Joker Toxin antidote out of your jacket. Once you started staking out the Joker, you were sure to stock up on the antidote, knowing it’s one of his deadliest weapons, but any plans to injected the little girl go flying out the door when she pulls her hands out from behind her back to reveal a large revolver and pulls the trigger. 

“Oh fuck!” You curse, diving out of the way of the shot. 

The little girl shoots again, but you dodge it again, your mind racing about how to disarm the little girl without hurting her. She tries to shoot again, but luckily for you, the little girl isn’t a good shot and misses, probably because she’s five. 

“This is so fucked up,” You mutter to yourself as you dodge another shot then rush forward and yanked the girl’s arm holding the gun into the air. 

She fires another shot at the ceiling, but you snatch the gun from her before she can shoot again. Now unarmed, the little girl giggles wildly then bites your arm. 

“Ow!” You yell, not used to your opponents trying to bite you. 

You nearly smack the girl but remember she’s five and instead yank your arm out from the little girl’s mouth and inject her with the antidote. The girl stumbles away for a moment, becoming disoriented from the antidote then a shot rings out, hitting the girl in the stomach. 

“No!” You yell, grabbing your own gun from its holster and shooting the armed man who just entered the room, but another man appears behind him and shoots, this time hitting the little girl in the head. 

The little girl hits the ground, blood leaking from her head as more men wearing tactical helmets flooding the room. You shoot one of them with your gun then try to fire the revolver, but it seems to be out of bullets, so you instead pistol whips the next closest man and toss the gun to the ground. You take a running jump and kick two men simultaneously in midair then emit a blinding light, attempting to blind the men, but their helmets seem to protect their eyes. 

You growl to yourself, shooting two men. One tries to tackle you, but you flip him over your shoulder and shoot him in the arm. Another tries running toward you but you jump up and drive a powerful kick to his collarbone, sending the man to the ground. 

“M!” You yell. “Find me a way out!” 

You throw four explosives that stick to four of the men then it blows up, taking out a few surrounding men with them. One man throws a strange gadget at you. You raise an arm to shield your face, but the gadget buzzes and pops then falls to the ground before hitting you. You lower your arm, confused by the gadget but then the comm in your ear starts to sizzle and pop. You yank it out of your ear and throw it to the ground, watching as it self destructs. 

“Son of a bitch,” You curse, searching for an exit yourself.

You spot a door that none of the men seem to be entering through on the opposite side of the room, of course. You roundhouse kick a man in the face then pull out your grappling hook, but before you can fire it, someone shoots your hand. 

You drop the hook in pain and use your other hand to shoot the man that shot you. You holster your handgun then fire your grappling hook with your opposite hand and swing to the other side of the room. Before you can open the door, it flies open, revealing two gigantic men. 

You grit your teeth and spring up to jump over the men but one of the men moves faster and catches you midair, holding you up by your neck then slams you into the wall. You claw his hand with your nails and kick your feet out, attempting to kick the man, but he’s too big. He tightens his grip on your neck, cutting off your airway. You cough but manage to get both your legs around his arm. Before you can finish the move, the other man slammed his elbow down on your knee.

You cry out, hearing a loud snap then the man slams you into the floor and pins your arms down under his heavy boots before you can grab your gun and begins repeatedly punching you in the face. Your head slammed against the floor repeatedly with more force each time then you hear a loud crack along with an explosion of pain along your nose after a particularly hard hit. You struggle under the man, attempting to free your arms, but he presses down harder, grinding your elbows into the floor. 

You emit another light, blinding the man, then bring your legs up to your chest and kick the man as hard as you can. He goes flying backward and you stumble to your feet, your head now ringing, your version blurry, and your knee throbbing. The other huge man dives at you but you easily duck under him, but you don’t duck in time for another person to tackle you to the ground. 

You try to free yourself again then your eyes widen when you look up to see the Joker had you pinned to the ground, holding a crowbar and grinning maniacally. He lifts the bar and you try to duck out of the way, but you’re pinned and the bar comes slamming down on your face. Your vision blurs again, your face burning, but the Joker swings again. You feel skin tear off your cheekbone, everything getting darker. It only takes one more hit for your world to go black.

We love a good cliff hanger, hope you enjoyed! I apologize for any grammtical errors, I originally wrote this with an OC but I think I changed everything. 

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow! Let me know if you would like to be tagged! 

Part 2

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jason Todd x Reader #Red Hood x Reader #Jason Todd imagine #Red Hood imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanons #DC #DC comics #Batman #Batfam #Joker #Smut #fluffy smut #nightwing #don't worry he'll be here soon #dick grayson

[avelera]

Fun facts I’ve learned from LARPing* a character who wears Celtic woad war paint:

^^ it me! Basically, considers this one part costume/LARP makeup tutorial and one part archaeological study via performance art. (Photo Credit)

(*LARP stands for “Live Action Role Playing” aka, Dungeons and Dragons but you run around in the woods in full costume as your character and yes that means you stay in-character for hours and have to perform all the combat yourself.)

- If you ever see a character with complex war paint on their body, back, or dominant arm that is at all graceful and not just slapped on pigment, then they must have had a friend do it for them. So any surly loner type figure that ALSO has elaborate warpaint is a fucking joke. You literally can’t have warpaint be symmetrical or pretty in places you can’t reach without having an available group of companions and, better yet, artistically inclined friends to put it on for you. War paint would have, by necessity, been a communal activity with group members putting on war paint for one another before going into battle, especially before the invention of easily accessible, high quality mirrors.

Addendum: war paint takes quite a lot of time to apply if you want it to be pretty or symmetrical. I regularly have to clean it all off and start over if I want symmetry and that’s with a mirror and a high-quality paint brush. A warrior that wears elaborate war paint but “doesn’t care about his/her appearance” is a goddamn liar. Unless you are with a group of warriors who are putting your makeup on for you, you do care about your appearance and you are very delicately applying makeup for just as long as a YouTube makeup star, at minimum. It’s a very ego-driven look with a lot of artistic skill required either by you or someone else. Even just making the appearance of a simple straight line on your face can be quite hard since your face has curves and bumps all over it. To do delicate lines takes forever. I chose bold strokes to make it easier and even those take a long time to apply if you’re in a hurry. A warrior who is wearing detailed war paint must have had at least an hour putting their face on to look pretty for the big fight, and don’t let them tell you otherwise.

(Sorry, Kassandra, your warpaint doesn’t make any f-ing sense unless a member of your crew put it on for you.)

- Brightly colored paint on your face will make your eyes look beady and small unless you cake dark eyeliner or pigment around your eyes to make them look bigger. It’s the main difference between good looking war woad pictures (usually on women) and bad looking woad pictures (usually on men) because they don’t remember to put eyeliner on so the colored paint doesn’t drown out their eyes. Even in video games, the best looking and most iconic war paint (like Senua or Kassandra) makes sure to cover the area around the eyes with paint, otherwise the eyes look beady and small. Case in point:

Not to call out real people, but this pic was on the internet. Notice how his blue eyes are drowned out by the pigment, making them look smaller, compared to when there’s pigment around the eyes so that doesn’t happen. By contrast:

^^^ Here, the black pigment around the eyes keeps her eye color from being drowned out by the bold blue. As a final example:

- Fun fact about war paint: that shit transfers everywhere and I mean everywhere without a binding agent of some kind. You’re not wearing war paint with your best silks. Wearing it naked into battle actually makes a lot of sense, as does permanent tattooing instead of temporary paint.

- War paint is actually intimidating as fuck. I’m quite a petite woman (5′4″, 130 lb) but I’m also a fight junky. I knew I was going toe-to-toe with guys twice my size and I wanted to be taken seriously as a warrior, not brushed off as small or cute. And boy howdy, did the warpaint work. And this is why:

- War paint disguises you. It basically works like extreme contouring in that it literally transforms your face. I’ve LARPed across from people for actual years who didn’t know who I was after when I took the paint off. It’s because the brain just registers the paint as my features to them, because most people don’t look at bone structure when recognizing others. It allowed me to build a myth around my character as an intimidating fighter that I could never have built around my normal features. It made my character a truly different person from me, one people only associated with who they see on the battlefield. 

Anyway, thank you for coming to my rambling TED talk, I hope you enjoyed!

#larp #larping #makeup #archaeological makeup #costume makeup #archaeology

[solarcitymelodies]

Wowza sorry y'all about the random massive Rockafire spam, I'm pretty sure ??most?? People on here? know me for just Knight Rider because that's the only thing I've ever REALLY posted about--

but I Do Not Care it's RAE hours right now so uhhh here's some headcannons that probably aren't Canon compliant very much because I just got into RAE like last week

So like. I feel like Mitzi is a Good Amount younger than the rest of the band like she was in highschool when she joined, the rest of em were all Adults™ and she was a little bit nervous about it because...... ADULTS™

She was just lookin for a place to get her singing voice out there, because ya girl REALLY wanted to perform, and showbiz happened to have a slot open, but she did not expect all of the members to be older than her (although looking back, she realized she probably should have expected that)

It was intimidating at first but Billy Bob and Fatz were just the absolute sweetest and they introduced her properly to the rest of the band because she was like "oh I barely talk to them because I get nervous :(" and the resident dads p much said "aight we can do all the talking for you then, how about that?" And badabing badaboom she's now attached to these two and like honestly who isn't or maybe that's just me but ANYWAYS I feel like the band would become a second home/safe space for her

Yeah fr some reason I have BIG long headcannon for her joining the band but the rest of them? Nobody knows how they got there for all I know they just Showed Up One Day

Also I came across this

https://youtu.be/UU7BeUWQBDI

Which got me thinkin about what my headcannons were as far as sexuality/gender stuff

And I find the concept of Billy Bob being Very Much Straight And Ignorant but trying his hardest to be a good ally SO funny like if someone came out to him he'd probably be like "oh!! I don't understand why you would choose that lifestyle but I respect you!!" not realizing how incredibly stupid he sounds sjkrjh like I don't think he can very easily wrap his head around how people are just. not cishet. so he's like "OH then it must be a choice, right? like you can choose to be gay but you're born straight. Right?" and everyone just shakes their heads in the background but he does earnestly try his best and my man would rather DIE than disrespect someone's pronouns I know this for sure

Fatz is pretty similar, straight ally and a lil confused but he's got the spirit, you know? He still least knows being gay (as well as,,, m o s t sexualities that aren't straight, although some he doesn't get/know about at all) isn't a choice but he hasn't quite grasped that being trans is also not a choice. He will respect your pronouns to hell and back but by god he doesn't get it,,, he's trying though and he feels very accomplished in himself that he's starting to get the hang of using they/them even though he slips up a lot

The rest of the band encourages the HELL out of these two because they're. Trying their best and making an honest effort which is more than a pretty good chunk of people would give

Rolfe, Earl, and Dook are the reasons Billy Bob and Fatz are trying so hard to understand it lmao

Rolfe took it upon himself to hang up a MASSIVE gay pride flag backstage, being the flaming homosexual that he is, and the rest of the squad quickly realized "oh he's GAY gay he wasn't kidding" because at first they literally thought he was joking as he was actually just being openly and obnoxiously a raging mlm (and like I mean no shade to him this isn't me tryna to make fun of it because my dumb sapphic ass almost crashed my car once because I saw a pretty girl walk down the street. And by "once" I mean. Yesterday.) Anyways yeah that's when the rest of em Realized and were like "OH" but after the massive pride flag was hung up that prompted Dook to come out and they were all like "???? YOU TOO????"

Dook is a non-binary ICON he's a demiboy and goes by both he/him and they/them and probably would have a bunch of pride pins I think,,, I'm not really sure of his sexuality though!! honestly he kinda gives me bisexual vibes but Who Knows . Not me. He has a HELL of a time trying to explain his gender to the rest of the band (except for Rolfe because like. He's a part of the community so he knows) and basically he was met with "so you're just a dude but ✨spicy✨?" and it was like, "no, but I have no idea how to explain it in a way that will make sense to you, so. yes?" And that explanation seemed to suffice for most of them

Mitzi went in knowing NOTHING about what being non-binary was so she asked a l o t of questions about it, which Dook just kinda dealt with answering (he's heard most of it before, and it gets tiring after a while. if you're nb or trans or honestly any part of LGBTQ+ you know what I mean) but he thought it was really sweet of her to be so determined to learn about it and eventually she did get a grasp on it ish, so she was able to understand why it wasn't just ✨spicy male✨ (the conversation pretty much went "well if i was just male, don't you think I would label myself that way instead?" "....oH TRUE!!!") and she ended up a VERY passionate ally, and she'll ask occasionally about how to be better at it, bein a queen as she is 👉👉 also definitely started questioning her sexuality after a while and just went with "maybe bicurious" and Rolfe, Dook, and Earl were all like "ONE OF US, ONE OF US"

Earl has never once spoken about his sexuality in his life, because 1. He's very aware that's an awkward conversation to have with a puppet, and 2. He's aroace anyways, which is basically what people assume even if they don't realize it just for their own peace of mind, because seriously, puppets and any identity that ISN'T aroace creates a really uncomfortable mental image for... Most people, pretty much. So it's not like he ever needed to say anything about it, which is convenient for him because he wouldn't want to say anything either way. not worth the risk of embarrassing himself and making everyone feel awkward

(side note ish though Rolfe 100% came out to Earl first and was met with "I already knew that but okay." Rolfe was mildly offended)

And spEAKING OF EARL he's VERY much sentient but he can't say he's particularly enthusiastic about it because Rolfe has to carry him around everywhere

He can move on his own but it's limited and generally annoying to maneuver around with his tiny body so he just says screw it half the time and stays on Rolfe's arm or hitch a ride on Random Object, but like... Yeah, the majority of the time Rolfe just has to deal with only having one arm available and a puppet directly next to him making fun of him at every possible chance

They high-key have chaotic and unorganized college roommate vibes (like they're actually roommates because... Where tf is Earl supposed to go?? So Rolfe took him in) and idk if this is really like a part of my headcannons or if I just think it's funny so I keep entertaining the idea of it but I think it would be Fantastic if Rolfe had no idea how to cook but Earl somehow did so this idiot is trying to take instructions from a puppet, who can't physically show him what to do, and it's like Hell's Kitchen live featuring a furry and a sentient stuffed animal

Aaaaamd going off of my Rolfe and Earl headcannons still Rolfe for SURE has some sort of executive dysfunction issue. ADD or ADHD I'm not sure (probably ADHD) but he definitely has it also this totally isn't just me projecting how dare you accuse me of that

And!!! More about Dook!!!! I don't know how or why I thought up of this but I cannot possibly imagine him any other way now-- he's autistic and space is his Big Huge special interest, and if you ever ask him about it you have to be prepared to get infodumped or possibly even shown a PowerPoint presentation, because GOD he loves space!!! He wants everyone to know all about it!! He knows not everyone thinks it's as cool as he does so he tries to keep his mouth shut but when someone asks about it he can't help himself and will infodump a LOT, also haha drumming stims go brrrr, playing the drums isn't really a stim but he likes to just take his drumsticks and whack em around in the air and get that good ol Wavy Arm Action (wavy arms is best stim change my mind you can't it's GOOD)

Also i bbbbelieve earlier I reposted somethin about someone else headcannoning that he has echolalia, which I don't really know enough about to say anything on it?? But even if he doesn't have echolalia he'd probably repeat phrases over and over until he gets tired of them (which is,,, something I do lmao, it's either memes I get stuck in my head or things I've heard from various medias I like the inflections in (like one tiktokker I saw was talking about their tourettes and their vocal tics and one of them was "uh oh! How unfortunate!" and now I CAN'T STOP SAYING IT)) but like uhhh yeah :))) repeating phrases that get stuck in your head for various reasons for the win

This is already really long so I'm just gonna vibe out thanks for coming to my Ted talk feel free to ask questions I probably won't be able to answer a lot of em though because my headcannons are a Mess hehe >:)

#WOOOW GROMIT #rae #rockafire explosion #rock-a-fire explosion #i still don't know what tags y'all use #someone pls stop me from stealing peoples vocal tics i find on tiktok #like seriously #the one i mentioned as well as are stuck in my head #SIZZLE IT UP G R O M I T #he lp #lmaooo anyways yeah i love these characters im biased towards rolfe and earl tho they're my favorites