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rieamena · 10 months ago

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totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

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toothfa-1-ry · 5 months ago

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JUST FATHER ACTIVITIES

Imagine in an alternative universe, somehow you and your baby daddy Thanos escape the games (don't ask me how) and you guys pay off all of your debts and have financial stability

Basically father! Thanos headcannons!!

First of all, thanos is a girl dad. Idc i do not make the rules you CANNOT and WILL not change my mind otherwise

After the games, irrelevant of whether you were also in the games with him or not, he'd quit his drug addiction and go to a rehabilitation centre for the sake of your daughter

You couldn't change him, but your daughter could

Thanos would go with you to the gynae every single time without fail, he'd brag about it (very loudly) though

"Look" thanos points at all the patients in the waiting room in the gynae clinic "how many women do you see with their husband's accompanying them?"

"Thanos shut the fuck up" you'd hiss at him, while hitting his arm. The women around you guys giving you the stink eye which he proudly gave back

"I'm just saying the truth- is it a sin to speak the truth?!?"

Will brag to the doctor and nurses too

"Say doctor miss" he leans back at his chair with his head held up high "how many husband's accompany their wives to the clinic?"

"Oh well that depends, not all the time-"

*insert thanos's loud proud laugh, his head thrown back while you grimace*

"I'm the fucking best aren't i"

*insert your slow head shaking* "Yes babe, you sure are"

He was always protective of you, but it grew even stronger after he found out you were pregnant

The type to protect you from a pigeon if he felt like it looked at you for a second too long

"Wtf are you looking at you cross eyed motherfucker"

*glares at the pigeon from a distance"

The type of person to hyper fixated on whatever small movement you do cause he's doesn't want you to get hurt

"Oh be careful be careful" *Holds your hand* "hold my hand and dont let go, use your other hand on the railing"

Says that he doesn't need to read or watch those "pregnancy classes" or "how to take care of a new born" classes cause he's already fully prepared

You later find out that he signed up for one of those seminars online and attends those lectures at night while your asleep

Bro probably has even stronger baby fever than you do

Buys things for the baby and you

"Thanos.. what's that in your hand"

"It's a costume, a ironman costume"

"For?"

"Our daughter 🙄 duh y/n"

"Babe, she still isn't even born"

"I got you a costume too" *takes out a black widow costume that seemed a little too racey* "you should try wearing it now just incase-"

*he got hit by you for trying to get you pregnant again while you were pregnant*

Let's say nam gyu wasn't the slimy bitch he was in the series

Best GODFATHER ever. GOATED godfather, S TIER godfather

I already mentioned this but I'm sure Thanos and nam gyu would come up with names for the baby

I'm talking wack ass names that they genuinely find cool

The list of names would include marvel character names (cause cmon, the child's dad is literally called thanos) or rapper names

"Add cardi b on the list too"

"You know that's not her real name right?" Nam gyu asked, pausing before quickly scribbling the name down

"WHAT?!? Since when??"

I'm sure nam gyu even accompanied the two of you to the clinic atleast once or twice

He was banned from coming though cause him and Thanos together made too much noise

Whenever you and thanos are in public, it doesn't matter if your in a cafe or restaurant or if your just out for a walk

If he meets anyone and i mean anyone

He'd tell them that he was gonna be a dad

"Hey do you know that I'm gonna be a dad?" *points at you* "and that's the mom- she's carrying my baby"

"Sir I'm the waiter"

On the softer note though

Kisses you on the lips first and then kisses your stomach second before you both go to sleep

If you groan or even if he senses a inch of your discomfort he'll automatically try to figure out a way to make you feel in ease

Tries his best not to annoy you

(It doesn't always work cause being annoying is his entire personality trait but it's the effort that counts!!)

Ties your shoelaces for you cause you can't bend over

Traces shapes over your stomach while you both lie next to eachother

Reminds you how pretty you are everyday

"If I'm the legend Thanos, then I guess you would be a myth, cause only a face like yours could make a man like me want to quit"

"Your so corny"

But you wouldn't have it any other way

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vamptizm · 2 months ago

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SATURN — p. bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x ex teammate!gf

synopsis: the of joy watching your girlfriend finally accomplish the dream you’d chased together for years had you feeling as if you were on another planet.

warnings: none.

word count: 4.1k

note: NATTY BABYYYY this is lowkey supposed to be part of a series but idc. might write a nasty part 2 idk yet

@brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @paige05bby @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @xxloveralways14 @prettygirl-gabi

You were already in your seat before warmups even started, nestled between some of the players' families — the energy in the arena pulsing like a heartbeat under your skin. The crowd was alive, buzzing with excitement, nerves, hope — everything you knew Paige was probably feeling tenfold.

You shifted in your seat, politely chatting with a few of the parents nearby, when you felt the subtle buzz-buzz of your phone in your back pocket. Once. Then again. And even before you touched it, you already knew.

It was her.

Paige was the only one you ever left your notifications on for — a quiet agreement between the two of you that started back when you were teammates. Important games, late-night flights, tournament weeks. The world could wait. But not each other.

You slipped the phone out and glanced down, already smiling at the first few lines of her message. She didn’t have to say she was nervous — not directly — you knew her. Knew the way she over-thought during high stakes. Knew when her confidence sometimes needed a little steadying hand. And maybe, in this moment, that was you.

Without hesitation, you leaned slightly toward Amy, tapping her gently on the arm. "I'm gonna go see her real quick," you said, voice raised just enough to carry over the swelling music. "I think she's a bit more nervous than she lets on."

Amy turned to you with a warm smile, her eyes soft and familiar. "Alright, hun. Be careful not to get lost or hurt," she teased, patting your back gently.

You chuckled lightly, offering a nod before slipping away, weaving through the packed row of seats with the kind of practiced ease that only years in arenas could give you. At the base of the stands, a security guard moved to stop you until you flashed the laminated pass hanging from your neck — the one Paige gave you just in case the ‘I played here’ card didn't cut it.

"Special clearance," you said with a playful grin, tapping the badge.

He nodded and stepped aside, and you made your way down the tunnel, the sounds of the court fading into a muffled roar behind you. Your footsteps echoed against the concrete, sneakers quiet but purposeful as you searched for the locker room.

You'd walked hallways like these more times than you could count, but tonight it felt different — electric. Heavier. As if every brick remembered the weight of your own games, your own moments.

You passed staff, trainers, and volunteers — offering polite nods, a quick smile, but your focus didn't waver. And finally, you reached it. The door to the locker room stood just ahead, slightly ajar, voices murmuring beyond it.

You took a steady breath.

Raising your hand, you knocked gently, not wanting to interrupt too harshly — but the response was immediate. The door swung open with a soft creak and standing there, arms crossed like a disappointed sitcom dad, was Geno Auriemma himself.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he squinted at you with that familiar mock-annoyed stare. "What the hell do you want?" he said, dry as sandpaper. "Don't you have a season to be preparing for?"

You couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips. "Nice to see you too, Coach," you said sweetly. "Just came to say hi to your star player before the game. She sounded like she needed a little emotional support."

He huffed, dramatically stepping back but still blocking the doorway. "Great. Just what I need. A walking distraction waltzing in here like she still owns the place." He turned his head toward the locker room behind him. "Bueckers! Your traitor of a girlfriend is here."

You heard a faint laugh from somewhere inside before Paige's voice came closer, followed by her footsteps. "You don't have to say it like it's a federal offense, Coach," she called.

"I do when someone deserts my program and then has the audacity to come distract my loyal players." Geno muttered.

You bit back a laugh, stepping inside just slightly, hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry I didn't stay until I was grey and old for a sixth year. That wouldn’t have been on-brand for me."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Aubrey did it. You could've too. But no, you’re busy being passed around from team to team.

Your jaw fell comically at his harsh joke, though it was clear on your face that you found it funny.

Before you could respond, Paige appeared just behind him, her ever-familiar grin lighting up her face. "Not too much on her," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder with the kind of ease only years under his coaching could earn.

Geno snorted, stepping aside with an exaggerated grumble. "Great. Now they're both ganging up on me," he mumbled, brushing past the two of you. "You've got five minutes before I drag her back by that ponytail. Don't make me come looking."

And then he was gone, muttering something else under his breath as he disappeared down the hall.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the hallway suddenly felt a little quieter — just the two of you in your own little world for a moment.

Paige's grin melted into a familiar, knowing smirk, her eyes slowly dragging over you with no rush, like she had all the time in the world. She tilted her head slightly, tongue pressing into the inside of her cheek as her gaze took in the outfit that had her full attention: her white UConn #5 jersey — the one she wore when setting her new career high — cropped just right, the hem tucked into the wire of your bra. Two dainty chains shimmered at your waist, resting lightly against your skin, and that denim skirt you wore? It had her completely entranced.

"You look beautiful, mama," she murmured, her voice low and warm, hands rising to curl gently around your exposed waist and bringing you closer. Her thumbs brushed softly along your skin, like she was trying to commit every inch of you to memory before she had to leave.

You rolled your eyes, though your heart fluttered at the nickname, lifting your hand to place a single finger beneath her chin and tilt her face up again. "Eyes up here," you said with a teasing smile.

She smirked even more but obeyed, locking eyes with you now, and something in her expression shifted—just barely. There was still that signature confidence lingering behind her grin, but it flickered for a second. She was nervous. You knew her well enough to read between the lines of her confidence.

So you let your hands move too—one settling against her jaw, the other tracing slow, comforting patterns along the back of her neck as you leaned in just slightly.

"You got this," you whispered, your voice soft but steady. "You all do. You've worked so fucking hard. I've seen it. I've lived it. There's not a single team that deserves this more than you guys."

She sighed quietly, leaning into your touch for a moment, grounding herself.

"And no matter how this goes, okay? You've already made history. You've already built a legacy here that no one can touch. This game doesn't change that."

Paige looked at you, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "Easy for you to say," she muttered, her thumb still circling your waist, "you won a natty your first year here. Freshie magic or something."

You snorted, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Yeah, and I also tore my ACL and dislocated my knee right after, and then lost two championship games after coming back," you quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Trust me, legacy isn't built in the win column. It's built in moments like this—where you show the fuck up no matter what."

She chuckled, head dipping as she pressed a quick kiss to your collarbone. "Why do you always know exactly what to say?"

"Because I'm wise. And I'm hot. And you're madly in love with me, so it helps the delivery," you replied with an obnoxious smirk, earning an eye roll and a grin from her.

But just like that, a knock came from inside the locker room—someone calling out a one-minute warning.

Paige's smile faded into something more solemn, more focused. She looked at you like she wanted time to stop.

You leaned in and kissed her—slow and grounding, a kiss full of belief and reassurance, not desperation.

"I'll be right there in the stands," you whispered against her lips. "Cheering like hell for you."

She nodded, brushing her nose against yours once more before pulling away, a last squeeze at your waist anchoring her before she stepped back inside.

And then you were turning on your heel, heart pounding in your chest, rushing back up the tunnel with a promise in your chest and her kiss still warm on your lips.

You sat wedged between Amy and Aaliyah, knees bouncing and knuckles cracking one after the other, that nervous tick you could never seem to shake. The roar of the crowd was muffled by the storm brewing in your chest—excitement, anxiety, hope. You weren't even on the court, but it felt like your lungs were working overtime, like your body hadn't quite realized you weren't the one playing tonight.

Your eyes were locked on Paige. You knew her rhythm, the way her feet moved before a shot, the slight squint she made when something didn't feel right in her wrist. And right now? She was off. Not by much, not enough for the commentators to acknowledge — but you noticed. A missed layup. A clean three that rimmed out. A hesitation where there usually was none.

"She's holding back," you mumbled under your breath, not sure if it was to Amy or yourself.

Amy glanced sideways, calm despite the tension, her hand resting patiently in her lap. "She's pacing herself. It's a long game," she murmured, like a mother who'd said that to herself a thousand times over the years.

You swallowed hard, fingers flexing again.

Halftime came. A ten-point lead didn't erase all the nerves, but it helped you breathe. You were ushered into a short media segment with Chiney, Elle, and Draya—each of them glowing with energy and optimism. Most of them had chosen South Carolina as their winner, just like the last time. And you knew Paige heard, knew that she wanted to prove them wrong once again. You forced a grin, answered their questions with practiced poise and your usual humor, cracked a quick joke about having more nerves now than you ever did during your championship games. But as soon as the segment ended and you were back in your seat, your hands found each other again. Crack. Crack. Crack.

The second half started with fire.

UConn came out swinging—faster, sharper, hungrier. It was like watching the team you knew they were all season finally come alive. The passes were crisp. The communication was seamless. And Paige? Paige lit up. The crowd surged every time her feet left the ground, and you felt every ripple of it.

Then came the moment—before the fourth quarter even began. UConn had ballooned the lead to twenty points. Twenty. Against South Carolina.

You knew. They had it.

They really, truly had it.

With just minutes left in the game, Paige was called out. You didn't even hear the announcer. All you saw was her name flash on the substitution board, and then her figure walking off the court for the last time in a UConn jersey. She headed straight for Geno.

And that was it.

You saw the second her walls fell. Her arms wrapped tight around him, her face buried into his shoulder, and she cried. Not from sadness, not even from relief—just that overwhelming wave of everything at once. The grief of goodbye, the joy of winning, the weight of all she'd carried for five years crashing down at once.

You bit your lip hard, trying to blink it away.

But the tears came anyway.

Your hand, almost on instinct, reached for Amy's beside you. You didn't even realize you'd done it until you felt her soft squeeze, her thumb gently brushing your knuckles.

"She did it," Amy said softly, her own voice thick. "Our girl did it."

You nodded, a teardrop slipping down your cheek as you watched Paige wipe her own. You didn't care about the cameras or the cheering crowd around you. All you saw was the girl you loved standing in the center of it all—finally at peace with the legacy she’d leave behind.

And God, she looked beautiful.

The clock ticked down, South Carolina letting the seconds bleed out as they dribbled at the top of the key. 82 to 59. There was nothing left to chase, nothing left to prove. You could see it in their body language—shoulders slack, heads low. Acceptance.

But you?

You could barely breathe.

Your chest was tight with emotion, heart hammering beneath your UConn jersey as if it had taken the court with Paige. The tears were already there, sitting heavy in your eyes, threatening to spill every time you blinked.

This wasn't just a win.

This was a culmination.

Of years of grit. Of heartbreak and healing. Of setbacks that could've broken her. Could've broken anyone, including you. But Paige never let them. And through every single one — every surgery, every rehab session, every media doubt and ‘what if’ — she fought her way back.

And tonight, she crossed the finish line.

National. Champion.

The buzzer blared and the world exploded. The roar of the arena became a blur as blue and white stormed the court, players tackling each other into tears and laughter and chaos.

A sob broke from your chest before you even knew it was coming.

Aaliyah pulled you into a tight hug, your bodies shaking with the same overwhelming joy. "They fucking did it," she whispered into your shoulder, and your tears fell freely now.

Then Amy was there, and you didn't even hesitate. You folded into her arms like she was your own mother, crying into her shoulder as she cradled you. "I'm so proud of her," you choked, and Amy's voice cracked, too.

"I know, baby. Me too."

It was only a moment, but it felt eternal—one of those fragments of time that would etch itself into your memory forever. The kind you'd still feel in your chest decades from now.

The hugs came in waves after that. Bob pulled you in, patting your back like he'd known you your whole life, Drew following. Jana and Azzi’s families were in tears, too — parents who'd watched their daughters pour everything into this season. You found yourself hugging them all, despite the fact that you were never the touchy kind.

But tonight? Tonight, everything was different.

You were overflowing with so much love, so much pride, that it didn't matter how many people you embraced. You wanted to hold them, hold something, because it was the only way you knew how to keep from completely falling apart.

Because this wasn't just UConn winning. This was Paige winning.

Your Paige.

And after everything she'd survived, everything she'd sacrificed, there wasn't a single person in this building who deserved it more.

Blue and white confetti began to rain from the rafters like snowflakes falling from heaven. Like they’d been waiting an eternity to rain for this team, each piece catching the light as it fluttered down onto the court—onto jerseys soaked in sweat and triumph, onto shoes that had carried a thousand miles’ worth of effort. You were already on your feet, pushing past rows of elated families and clapping fans, heart hammering as your eyes locked on the chaos unfolding below.

You didn’t wait. Couldn’t. Your legs carried you forward before your mind could catch up, weaving through bodies — staff, players, press — your official pass swinging around your neck as you moved with purpose. Nothing else mattered but getting to her.

Paige was somewhere in the mess of limbs and laughter, her face flushed with adrenaline and joy, heart pounding so hard she swore she could feel it in her ears. They’d done it. She’d done it. After everything—injuries, heartbreak, missed chances—she had finally finished what she started.

But as the arena roared around her and her teammates screamed with triumph, none of it felt quite real.

Not until she saw you.

Her eyes scanned desperately through the confetti-streaked blur, searching past the crowd of coaches and teammates and celebratory loved ones until — there. That familiar silhouette, that proud, teary-eyed smile she’d know in any stadium, in any lifetime.

You were coming toward her, dodging through the swell of people like gravity was pulling you straight to her. Your tears had long dried thanks to Aaliyah’s tissue and a few shaky breaths, but the way your chest rose and fell with emotion, the way your smile quivered just enough to betray what this moment meant—it all hit her like a second wave of victory.

She didn’t wait either.

Shoving past the bodies in her way, Paige moved faster than she had all game. A blur of blue and white, of shoes pounding the floor, until finally — finally — she reached you.

And without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you and pulled you in like you were her anchor in a storm. Your bodies collided with the force of something years in the making, her face burying itself in the crook of your neck, breath warm against your skin as she clung to you like you were the only thing tethering her to the earth.

She didn’t care about the cameras. The trophies. The future.

She only cared about this. About you.

Your arms came around her neck, locking her in just as tight as you whispered, voice shaking but certain, “I’m so proud of you, I could scream.”

Her breath hitched against your shoulder, and when she pulled back just enough to look at you, her blue eyes were glassy—overwhelmed, elated, completely undone. You could see everything she couldn’t say reflected in them.

Another tear slipped down your cheek, and Paige leaned in to kiss it away without thinking, without hesitation, her lips brushing your skin with so much gentleness it undid you all over again.

“You fucking did it,” you breathed, voice cracking with the weight of it all.

The urge to kiss her—really kiss her—was overwhelming, but you held back. You weren’t public yet. You’d agreed to wait until the WNBA Draft, until she was ready. But truthfully, it felt like everyone in the world already knew. The way she looked at you like you hung the moon didn’t exactly scream subtle.

So instead, you cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing along her cheeks, trying to memorize every detail—every emotion etched into her features. Your smile trembled as you whispered, “God, I’m so relieved and overjoyed that I feel dizzy.”

She let out a soft, breathless laugh—something between disbelief and pure elation—and pressed her forehead against yours, her voice breaking through the din, “Hold onto me, then. I’ve got you, angel.”

And in that moment, with confetti clinging to her hair and sweat still glistening on her brow, Paige Bueckers didn’t just feel like a champion.

She felt whole.

The confetti was still falling when you found yourself wrapped up in the chaos of celebration—players, coaches, staff, families, cameras flashing in every direction. And yet, through all of it, Paige refused to let go of you. She hadn’t once loosened her grip on your hand unless absolutely necessary. She dragged you with her everywhere—through the mob of hugs and team photos, past media personnel and assistants trying to usher players into the right spots. If she had to move, you were moving with her.

It didn’t exactly help the dating ‘rumors,’ but it’s not like either of you were trying that hard to hide it anymore. Not when every glance, every touch, every lingering moment screamed what hadn’t been said out loud yet. And the only time she’d left your side was for a few post-game interviews—short ones she kept brief, always glancing over her shoulder like she couldn’t wait to get back to you.

By the time she returned, she was in full celebration gear — navy blue championship shirt, the official ‘2025 National Champions’ hat perched crookedly on her head thanks to the ponytail sticking through the back. It wasn’t sitting properly, but she didn’t care. She looked every bit the moment — casual, powerful, confident. The cut-down net hung around her neck like jewelry, each white loop resting against her chest like a symbol of everything she’d fought for.

You’d never wanted someone more in your life.

There she was — grinning, flushed, radiant with triumph and joy. Cool as hell with that net swaying like a diamond chain, like a statement piece. She looked like victory and history wrapped into one, and it made your heart clench. It also made your thighs clench, but that was another battle you’d deal with later.

She turned to you mid-laugh, slipping an arm around your shoulder so easily, so instinctively, it was like your place had always been right there beside her. You leaned into her side as you laughed along with your friends and their families, occasionally pausing to pose for photos, smiling so much your cheeks ached.

Still, it all felt surreal.

Overwhelming, yes—but not in a bad way. Just… different.

It reminded you of your own championship win, though yours had been more quiet, intimate. COVID-era restrictions kept the arena half-empty, the celebration smaller. It had been beautiful in its own way — just your team, close family, a bubble of victory you’d all created together. But this? This was a different universe. The noise, the cameras, the massive crowd — this was loud, unapologetic joy, the kind of celebration dreams are made of.

And Paige knew that. She remembered. She’d watched you win on her TV screen her senior year of high school, wide-eyed and proud, texting you congratulations from her living-room as she geared up for her freshman year at UConn. She’d imagined chasing a repeat with you, shoulder-to-shoulder. But god had other plans.

Instead, it was you watching her from the sidelines that year, your injured leg keeping you benched while she chased the dream alone.

It was all coming full circle now.

You didn’t even realize she was looking at you until her hand reached up to tug off her crooked hat. She turned to face you fully, that soft, easy smile spreading across her face — the kind only you ever got. Then, with the gentlest touch, she placed the hat on your head, her fingers brushing lightly along your temple as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your lips twitched up, amused and curious. “Why am I wearing your hat?”

Without missing a beat, her voice low and steady, she replied, “What’s mine is yours.”

Then her eyes held yours, deep and unflinching, as she added, “Including this natty. I wouldn’t be standing here without your love. Your support. Your belief in me—especially when I couldn’t believe in myself.”

Your breath hitched.

She leaned in slightly, voice quieting in a way that made it feel like no one else in the world existed. “We did this for you too. You, Aaliyah and Nika.”

The words shattered something open inside you. Not in a painful way — more like a dam breaking, releasing every moment of sacrifice and struggle, every cheer from the bench, every quiet tear from the stands, every night you spent holding her through self-doubt and injury and pressure.

Because through all of it, you had been there. She’d carried your strength onto that court like a second heartbeat as if you were still playing alongside her and now, standing beneath a shower of confetti and surrounded by her teammates, she was handing that championship right back to you.

Your throat burned. Your vision blurred. You blinked up at her, lips trembling into the softest, most overwhelmed smile as your fingers came up to grip the brim of the hat she’d gifted you.

You didn’t cry. Not fully. But your eyes said everything.

And Paige, with a tired smile and unspeakable tenderness, reached out and pulled you close again—not for the cameras, not for the crowd.

But just for you.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers oneshot #paige bueckers x reader

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dilf-docs · 5 days ago

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Snow At The Beach, I. Day One: Arrival

harry castillo x younger fem!reader

summary: you knew doing things without thinking was bad. so now, of course, your impromptu trip to iceland gets ruined by a man who claims you have ruined his.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (late 20s/late 40s), (eventual) smut, s2l, forced proximity, one bed, tons of angst, MATERIALISTS SPOILERS +more specific to be added per chapter!

word count: 3,266 words

side note: i feel like a man who fathers too many kids who he can't take care of lmao very fitting since it's father's day in my country!! i do have a present loving dad so i'm afraid my dilfism has been earned by other worse reasons. fun fact, it's also my 21st bday! yey (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ🎂 shot out too to the daddiest non-dad out there, pedro pascal!!!! (i know some of these things like hotel mishaps don't make sense since it's supposed to be a luxury place but idc do it for the plot!)

part: prev | masterlist | next

He feels stupid. Sitting at the airport with luggage for a week and a ticket to Iceland that felt more like a reckless choice every passing hour and less like the romantic getaway he envisioned. Surrounded by families, friends, couples and people by themselves who certainly don't look as miserable as he does. Lonely. His gaze lingers on the lovers, as some sort of punishment. He thinks of his brother and his recent marriage and the girl who got away. Lucy. He still doesn't know how to feel about it, but he definitely isn't feeling sunshine and rainbows.

Just stupid.

Harry Castillo, billionaire, deceived by the promise of love, taken away from him by a broke waiter of all people.

He boards the plane with rage, holding his handbag so tightly, the stewardess posted at first class asks him if he's okay. He nods, but he knows he's far from it. Spends all the five hours checking his email and pending files, yet he also knows he cares about it as much as he cares about his brother's Things To Do In Iceland list. Hiking, whale watching, romantic waterfalls and the promise of a wet enchanted kiss. Those were things to do for couples. Harry is fucking alone.

Sitting next to him is a man who snores. Too loud. His eye ticks. Who sleeps on a fucking five hour flight? Alright, Harry is irritable at the moment; he thinks he's right about this though.

The plane lands in between the views of white-coated mountains and green grass. Some people clap. Harry hates people who clap when a plane lands.

Who would've thought a real romantic and composed businessman could be this full of hate?

It's Lucy's fault.

Now, Harry's moved to the stage where he blames everyone else. Not shared guilt, just her fault. Entirely hers. For her icy blue eyes, like the lakes behind his window. As well as cold. For fawning at his apartment but not at his kisses. For acknowledging he was great. Because even then, she chose not to stay.

As the car drives to his chosen hotel, the Torfhùs retreat, he thinks about her again. Lucy and him. Blames her for not opening up. But, he didn't either. Slept facing the other side after their first night together, hiding scars under expensive bed sheets. On his knees and on his heart. Hard to love, wanting to. Embarrassed to feel all at once and even more to admit it out loud.

This time, as the car parks outside and he asks the driver for a few minutes to get out and accept he's on this trip completely by himself, Harry's at the stage where he takes all the blame. For expecting. For wanting. For forcing himself on her, because she did say she wasn't what he needed. But they did work out. Maybe he didn't try too hard. That he should've been honest about the surgery, despite it being eight years ago. Maybe he tried too hard.

Either way, Harry has lost.

He sighs one last time and gets down the car. His bags are already inside the lodge.

He's about to get inside the lobby when a figure walks past him, touching the handle before him.

"Sorry. You go first" to the unknown person, then reaches his hand, because despite the quiet anger and heartbreak, Harry Castillo's still a gentleman. Then holds the door open for them.

"Thank you" voice impossibly soft. To be confused with meek, but it sounds rather resigned.

They go inside, and that's when Harry notices it's a woman.

He notices other things, always an observer. Her walk, composed. She's pretending, he thinks. Her hair, held tight by a ponytail and the way it swings with each step she takes. But it's her floral perfume that catches his attention the most. He hates cheap perfume. Still, Harry can deduce it's not expensive yet not cheap smelling either. Just... natural. As in effortless. He decides he's okay with that.

"Hello" he follows behind closely as if they came together, unable to resist a weird pull. "I made a reservation last week. Room 10"

Direct to the point. Harry hates people who talk too much. Who bullshit and lie. Which is funny, given his... Nevermind. Embarrassing.

Harry would like this, if it wasn't for the fact that number 10 is his exact same room.

You are not an spontaneous person.

Not boring either, just nothing that makes you stand out in a crowd. Another young adult with a career, a cat, and a boyfriend.

You jog every morning and pay your taxes on time. You do groceries on Sundays and cleaning on Mondays. Your circle of friends is small and you hang out every two weeks at brunch. You take the same route to work, having memorized it by now. You have goals, dreams, ambitions and a clear mind.

Keeping a straight head won you a job that allowed you to buy an apartment in lower Manhattan. Home.

You remember the first thing you bought: a small forget me not that died three weeks later. An omen of the heartbreak to come.

What died was the most important thing one should nurture.

Love.

It was a slow death, too quiet to even notice. Subtle. Late office nights, arriving at a house cold and silent. The darkness that awaits the ones who aren't being waited for. Silk sheets replacing cheap ones but gone the warmth of two bodies who searched each other even when the weather wasn't cold.

You can't remember the last time he held you close like someone worth to keep. The last time you went on dates, first because of time and then nothing at all. Just not doing it. Like you didn't eat together anymore. Or that he kept forgetting your favorite things, things he held before close to his heart, as sacred as a prayer or a secret language only you could understand.

The language written in vows. The one when you swear your heart to only one person for the rest of your life.

Then it came down with a scream. Even later nights, but the previously occupied bed was now empty. It filled in the morning, but your heart stayed empty. In the tense air lingered the things unsaid and a perfume that wasn't yours.

You threw things, bit back like a wounded dog. And he returned the pain, doubled it.

"I'm seeing someone else"

You felt the shame and anger reside in your veins. Deceived. Almost a decade with him but she had taken the last dying months, and somehow, even if she had less, in the end, she won. The other woman. The one who was this prettier newer shiny toy that had taken your spot.

"I love her"

Words you thought would always be only yours. The promise of a husband to a wife.

So, in spite, childishly maybe, you took the saved money you had in your bank account and booked a flight to the farthest place you could come up with.

That's why you're sitting at Keflavík airport alone.

Iceland.

Booked a one-week stay in one of Iceland's most expensive hotels. Torfhùs retreat: cozy cabins in Selfoss, dressed in modern luxury.

"You could've used that money for a good lawyer" your bestfriend Danna chastised. "I know one. Her office is in upper Manhattan. She's a nepo baby, but trust me, she's great. Amazing"

But you needed to get away.

For just a moment, five thousand kilometers away, you could pretend everything was fine and your life hadn't turned upside down in a matter of weeks.

That your cat meowed in anguish, asking for his absence, present in his empty side of the bed and lack of clothes in the closet.

That seeing your pictures replaced with hers didn't bring you to tears.

That there wasn't a permanent ache in your heart.

Among the waterfalls, mountains and green grass, you could show the world you weren't crying in bed for what was already over.

No, twenty-seven year old Y/n, soon to be a divorcee, could have fun among one of the greatest sadness a person could experience.

"So, Iceland?" Danna asks, finally after you had sent a picture of the airport bar you were sitting at. Well, camping at. Trying to gather some courage to face a divorce and that getaway you always imagined, but by yourself.

"Yeah, mother fucking Iceland"

You had never traveled alone before. Took a long gulp of your Brennivín and prayed for courage.

Upon arrival, you lowered your expectations and hoped just for a good trip. When a man walked before you, almost colliding into you, but realized and held the door, a gesture so small yet one you hadn't experienced in so long, it made flush rush to your cheeks.

"Sorry. You go first" and his voice is so deep and raspy, every hair in your body raises to its command. It wraps you. Soothing. Like velvet.

"Thank you" you manage to say, and even if you sound tired, you try to express the warm feeling of gratitude.

You don't think he notices your voice crack, or how each step you take is labored. That you haven't been okay for a long time and that his gesture has had an effect on you, bigger than you'd like to admit.

As you walk to the front desk, you notice the man walking close to you, his perfume and faint smell of cigarettes wafting through the air.

"Hello" you pull out your printed reservation (yes, printed. You were just that prepared). "I made a reservation last week. Room 10"

You hear the door guy stop. The man from the desk hands you the key. A throat clears up behind your back.

"No, that can't be" and a little nervous yet entitled laugh.

You turn around. "Sorry, where you talking to me?"

The man nods, smile condescending.

"I think you're mistaken, miss"

"Y/n" you cut a bit harshly, the small chivalry long forgotten.

You're tired, sad and angry. You just want to go lay down and sleep your sorrow away.

"Y/n" he repeats, and you shouldn't enjoy how much it sounds on his gravely voice. Not when he's treating you like this. How was this the same man who held the door for you?

"Yes?"

"I said I think you're mistaken"

"I don't understand" you blink, slowly.

The man behind the counter starts to look distressed. "Allir, róið ykkur niður" (everyone, calm down)

"Room 10... That's my room"

You laugh and dangle the key in front of his face.

"No, it's mine"

The man looks at you like you're a naive kid.

"Here" he pulls out his own reservation paper. Printed as well. You ex-husband used to say it was a waste of paper. You'd like to prove him wrong and make this a silly Look, we're the same! moment, except this man is far from your friend. "Now you believe me?"

Room 10.

"Ég held að það hafi orðið mistök" (i think there's been a mistake)

You start to loose your patience. "Listen, mister-"

"Harry" with the same icy tone you'd used.

"Harry" you repeat, hating how smoothly it slides across your tongue. Almost as if you were born to say it. "I made this reservation last week"

The smug grin he sports irks you. "I did it a month ago"

"Kannski var það tölvan. Eða nýjasti gaurinn" the man says. He's started to sweat by now. (maybe it was the computer. or the newest guy)

You tap your feet against the floor, both impatient and annoyed. "So?"

The man smiles, enjoying this.

"By that logic, the room's mine" he replies cooly, pleased.

The color drains from your face. What are you supposed to do? You don't know the country or the language, not to mention the obscene amount of money you've wasted.

"And what am I supposed to do?" you ask, helpless.

"Book somewhere else" he drops, carelessly.

"Do you think money grows from trees!?" you raise your voice, losing your temper. Maybe it's the accumulated stress, because you never shouted at anyone. At least, not since you last argued with your ex-husband.

He doesn't answer to that.

"If you expect me to search for another place right now" you find your voice again, lower yet still sharp, "you're dumber than you look"

He scoffs. "You're dumb if you think you can book a place a week before your trip"

You laugh dryly. "Says the guy who's telling me to book a hotel right now"

He chuckles, a bit less meaner. "Fair"

"You're forgetting something, though"

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"

You grin, victoriously. "I got the key"

"I still have more rights to it" he says with a bit of a whine.

"What about manners? Women go first!"

"And your own? Don't be a child and accept I booked it first so I deserve it"

"You're ruining my trip!" you protest, spiteful.

Harry is as angry and irritable as you.

"So are you!"

The man behind the lobby, an elder man with ashes for hair who introduces himself as Axel the housekeeper, stands in between.

"Wait!"

You both turn at the man who had remained behind the safety of his desk, both nervous and distressed.

"You speak English?" Harry asks.

"Little" he replies, more embarrassed about the situation than his language knowledge.

"Thank God" you sigh, a little too relieved. "Please, help us"

"I try, just stop shouting. Guests don't like"

Your face feels hot and Harry's ears turn red at the tip. For some reason, seeing the once intimidating man who could easily own a room blush out of embarrasment is kind of adorable.

Ugh. You so need to get laid. Get yourself a viking, Danna had said.

"Sorry. We got nervous. A bit altered" you utter.

"I apologize as well" but he isn't looking at you. "We just want to understand why we both have the same room"

"I told her. Bad idea" he sighs, shaking his head. "Wife cares of this. She sick. New guy came. He ruined it" Axel points to the computer. "I not good with this. Nor english. Wife is"

You can't help but smile at the hint of hidden adoration the explanation carries. "She sounds like a great woman"

"A true keeper" Harry agrees. He can't help but be a romantic, despite it all.

(Despite never falling in love. Not knowing how to love. What it is to be loved)

You look at the him, stunned for agreeing with you or maybe at the way there's yearning laced within his words. Your eyes briefly dart to his finger without a ring, wondering. He catches your view when you raise it, which makes you turn away, embarrased.

"The best" Alex agrees with both of you. "Anna is the love of my life"

Something about growing old and counting wrinkles on the face of a lover. The tale of years passed but love standing across time. All that's left is the ache of the person you imagined spending the rest of your life with, slipping through your fingers until he wasn't yours. Like he never was.

"Hey, I have solution" he takes out another key from the drawer and hands it to Harry. "Here"

Harry takes it, examines it and then looks back at Axel, confused.

"It's for Room 10"

"Yes" like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

He blinks, slowly. "I'm not getting it"

Axel smiles, as if the answer is easy.

"Yes. You two share room"

It takes a few seconds for both of you to react.

"What?!" you shout in unison.

"That doesn't make any sense" Harry says.

"Yeah" you concede. "There's no way I'm sharing a room with him"

Harry scoffs, crossing his arms.

"What makes you think I would share a room with you?"

"Is the solution I have" Axel shrugs. "I apologize but it's only one"

You sigh, sitting on a chair while rubbing your temples. Your head and feet hurt. Your eyes are heavy and you feel like crying.

"I can't believe it... this is why I plan things on advance"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Maybe you learned your lesson"

"Oh, definitely" you roll your eyes as well, standing up in front of him, tone daring. "Never book a luxury hotel full of snotty and arrogant people like you"

"Yeah, and I'd choose better than a hotel who allows anyone"

"Actually, we have policies-"

You both interrupt Axel with a hard "Shut up!"

He backs away, raising his hands in defeat. You finally react then.

"Look" you say, taking a deep breath and clapping your palms together for any semblance of peace. "Shouting won't take us anywhere"

He pinches the bridge of his nose, tired. "Alright. What do you suggest then?"

You take out your phone, asking Axel for the Wi-Fi. Once you get signal, you do a quick search for hotels in Selfoss. All of them are as expensive if not more than this one. Why even bother? Not like you had any money left.

"The closest hotel is almost three miles away. And it's small" you comment, looking at the picture. "I'm pretty sure it's all booked"

You give him a little look. The disarming look, as Danna would joke. The look that won you free drinks and your ex-husband to look your way the very first time.

"No" he picks up, immediately. It seems Harry might be the only man inmune to it.

"It's the only way" you speak, stern. "Don't think I'm happy about it"

"Good" Harry seconds, acidic. "Neither am I, just to be clear"

"Just to be clear" you replied, annoyed. Probably at the fact it feels like a subtle rejection. Not like you care, anyway.

Harry looks at his bags on the floor and you look at your own. The clock reads nine, and after such an emotional rollercoaster, you feel the need for a good bath and a comfy bed. After a few moments of silence, Harry speaks, defeated.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Unless you want me to drive twenty miles to the biggest hotel in Selfoss. And pay for it"

I could, he thinks, but chooses to remain silent. "I'm not cruel"

Your lips curve up slightly. "I'm sure if good ol' Axel wasn't here, you would've wrestled me for this key to death"

Harry rolls his eyes, but a faint smile adorns his face.

"You're lucky I skipped Taekwondo classes"

"Taekwondo?" you chuckle, in disbelief. "I'd never imagine so. You look like a... finance guy"

"Can't a guy be both?" voice lighter, almost playful.

You giggle. "A millionaire fighting? Only if you're Batman"

He sends a wink your way, disarming you. "Maybe I am"

There is something about the man standing before you. Something that makes it impossible to hate him, even as annoyed as you are. Something that draws you to him. Impossible to ignore. A pull that bent knees and hearts.

Axel's raspy voice cuts the moment. "When room is empty, I'll give you new key"

"I like the sound of that" you agree. Then, you hold your hand up. "Temporary roomates?"

Harry chuckles at your antics, but accepts your hand nonetheless. His palm is so big, it practically swallows yours. It's firm and warm, the security of his dominant handshake engulfing you. You haven't realized you've held for longer than necessary until Axel intervenes about showing you your room.

"Temporary roomates it is"

Yet some things are meant to be forever, and you had a feeling Harry hadn't just crashed your vacation plan but your life.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas / dts: @thecamiladiazuniverse @kaliispunk @manuymesut @QueenoftheAmazons

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pedgito · 1 year ago

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𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 | Marcus Acacius x reader

summary | once your dad's greatest friend, now his greatest enemy. you cannot shake the desire and care you feel for the fallen general, even as he heads toward death.

author's note | LISTEN, none of this is going to be accurate. and frankly idc, i'm horny i needed to write this do not come at me. no source material? idc i'm still writing it. anyways, enjoy the p*rn. (if you're reading this prior to the movie coming out, none of this is canon. this is just an idea that i wanted to write and felt like posting, if you do not like the idea of writing without source material, please do not engage or send me asks to be combative, they will be deleted. i won't be continuing this specific fic and will not be writing for him again until the movie comes out.)

content warning | 18+ smut, this is dbf for the gladiator girlies (gn), sneaking around, descriptions of smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampies, breeding kink, age gap (reader is early 20s, marcus is late 40s/early 50s), alcohol tw, innocence kink

word count —2k

You knew he would be here soon, he must.

You curled into the dark corners of the arena hall, having been here since dawn with your own father, a high military commander who struck down Marcus as punishment for such things even he wouldn’t tell you about. You knew nothing, heard nothing—you weren’t allowed such privilege.

It has been days since you last saw him—Marcus. General Acacius to many, another esteemed leader amongst the masses, and a once great friend to your father. Though, that was no longer.

You often called him sir, finding that General Acacius was quite the mouthful. Or often just General, but his endearment toward you was blatant and he insists, almost pleading that you drop the formality when alone. Which was easier, as your fondness of him grew.

It started at a celebration, one of the many grand parties thrown in celebration of fight won or any reason for the men to drink, but Marcus liked to linger. Often tucked away in a corner watching the madness unfold, you were too curious to stay locked up in your room.

The first night he caught your eye, it was a smile around the edge of his silver goblet drowning in red wine, a hand crossed over his chest as he watched you slip away in fear that he may say something to your father.

But, he never did.

For weeks after, it progresses. From a smile, to a lingering gaze, eventually he finds himself inching closer to you, week by week. Until one night he finally finds the courage in himself to be waiting by the corner you often sneak around, watching curiously.

“You are pushing it, dove.” He speaks softly, his eyes downturned to look at you from the step he was on above you, slowly inching down until he was level, “if he catches you—”

“He hasn’t,” You tell him in a clipped, hushed tone, “and you haven’t said anything. You won’t….will you?”

He bypasses the question, “Why do you come here?” Marcus curiously asks, “These men, they are—animals, if they see you dressed like that, they would not hesitate to—”

You had on a pale nightgown, thin and barely enough to cover your modesty but it was enough. The sticky, summer heat prickled your skin, formed a line of sweat across your brow and you huffed out at his words, “My father would murder them. Besides, you are not like them. So, why do you linger here?”

He was much more than a friend, closer and akin to family.

But, he had his own troubles. Stepson, a wife, he should be away caring for them. Yet, he was there with a disgruntled scowl and eyes only set on you.

“Why not?” He shrugs, “It is…quite entertaining. Isn’t that why you sneak around here to watch?”

You mimic his shrug, shying away slightly as you pull away to leave, but his hand catches your wrist, his cup placed in the gap of pillars separating you both. His facial expressions show an internal battle of thought, like he’s fighting against the bad and hoping the good would win out.

Unfortunately, the bad prevails.

“Let us walk,” He tells you, nodding toward the exit a few feet away, “if you would accompany me?”

You nod eagerly, switching the grip on your wrist to curl around his bicep, muscular and hard from years of fight training. He flexes slightly at the touch, covering his free hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

He made you feel safe. And that was all that mattered to you.

—

The walk was the first mistake.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before you found yourself tucked away by a nearby tent, unbuckling and unfastening Marcus out of his gear hastily before he fucked you under your nightgown—gentle but firm. He was the first man, the first ever to have you in such a way. You’d told him so as your hands shook under the weight of his gaze, the taste of bitter wine on his lips. He’d kissed you as he pushed his cock inside of you and didn’t stop until you were tipping over the edge.

Over time, you grow bolder. Sneaking him back into your home was easy, knowing the guards weren’t as watchful in the late, late hours of the night. It was dangerous, reckless, but as you tug him down into the cellar and sink to your knees, it all fades away quickly.

His little dove, he often calls you. Sweet dove, so pure and innocent. His hand caresses your chin as you swallow him down, eyes locked on his half-lidded gaze before he comes down your throat, nose scrunching up slightly and his brow furrowing, biting at the back of his other hand to muffle the groan that escapes him.

It was always like this—hurried and quick fucks that didn’t diminish the feeling, but reminded you how easily you could both be caught. It continues for months…and months, until suddenly he stops coming around.

No parties, no visits—Marcus had become a ghost.

But, enough digging had led you here, tucked away in the shadows again—but watching as he fought for his life. The other man was much older, weaker, and Marcus struck him down within a matter of minutes, blood splattering across his face as he stuck again and again, bashing the poor man’s skull in until it was nothing, teeth gritting as his body surged with adrenaline.

Gladiator fighting wasn’t a new thing—and you knew he wasn’t the only one, but why?

He’s making his way down the arena toward the pillar you are tucked behind unknowingly, alone and battered as the guards run off to dispose of the body. You aren’t sure where Marcus is going now or when you would see him again, but you take the chance when you know no one is watching, grabbing him by the armor plate on his chest and pulling him away and into a dusty closet, knocking into a stack of buckets in the process.

You gasp as his hand wraps around your neck, fist cocked back in preparation of an attack.

But, then his eyes land on you.

“Dove, what are you—”

You shush him quickly, hands molding against his face and the dried blood, his breathing quick and short as you attempt to calm him.

“I had to see you—I thought…I thought you had—”

“I might as well be,” Marcus replies somberly, “we cannot meet like this. We cannot meet at all.”

“It’s fine, It’s fine–” You assure him, reaching forward to press your lips against his.

Marcus pulls away hesitantly, grabbing your face roughly until you look at him, eyes widening.

“They will kill you. I cannot see you again. I should not even be here with you.”

Your eyes well with tears, forcing yourself forward again to capture his lips and this time he allows it, opening his mouth slightly as your tongue dips inside, working silently at the buckles to his chest plate.

“No talking. Let us…enjoy this. If it is the last time.”

You were both well aware—he would fight for his life or die, that was it. And he would fight until that point came. He was no longer a General, completely stripped of his power. But, he was still Marcus. And you would hold onto that for as long as you could.

He’s shaking, the adrenaline raking his body and making him restless as you kissed him, tongue dipping into his mouth again as his hands roamed, squeezed, caressed.

“I will not break,” You whisper into his mouth, “take what you need, Marcus.”

It was all he needed to hear, turning you around swiftly and forcing your down with a hand against your back, arms pressing into the shelf in front of you as he pushed up the silk, carefully woven and intricate fabric of your dress—so pristine and perfect. He wanted to rip it off you, be he refrains, squeezing at your hips while he kneels behind you.

“Marcus, you need not—”

“Quiet, little dove. Let me have this,” He licks against your cunt hungrily, noisy slurps as he lapped you up, squeezing less than gentle at the inside of your thighs as they shook, his tongue swiping over your clit, a broken moan slipping past your lips, “beautiful—let me hear you.”

“Marcus,” You plea, his fingers joining his tongue as they breached you and drag against the soft, but incredibly sensitive spot inside of you, your hand reaching for his wrist tucked between your legs as you whined out his name once more, twice, until your legs gave out, feelings his strong, broad shoulders flexing as he used his brute strength to keep you upright, licking up the gush of fluids that leak out of you, rising with haste and untucking himself from his garments, wrapping a gentle hand around the back of your neck before he’s pulling you upright harshly.

“Want to leave you something,” He whispers against the shell of your ear, “something to remember me, if I shall never leave here. Something of me for you to carry on. Alright, sweet dove?”

You nod knowingly, as Marcus had always been careful to pull himself out before breaching that point. He was always careful, hesitant—but being on the brink of death, he found himself careless and desperate. He couldn’t let you go.

He slips inside of you with a hand tucked around your throat, pulling your back to his chest as he snapped his hips into you firmly, groaning lewdly into the side of your neck as he bit down, squeezing at your throat with every soft sound you made and you want it just as bad, forcing your hips back into every push of his cock—you were positive this pain would last you into next week, but you needed that reminder. His fingers dip into your skin, hard and uncaring and sure to leave marks, but that was what you wanted.

And his groans quickly turn needy, more high-pitched than you’ve ever heard them

He’s holding back, restraining himself. You turn your head, catching his heated gaze as he pants, your thumb tracing over his lip. His hand drags over your stomach, rests, curious of how beautiful you would look swollen and carrying his child.

It is a hopeful and distant dream, one that he will never foresee.

“Give it to me, Marcus,” You beg him, “I want it.”

It so easily undoes him, “Take it, my dove,” He growls, coming deep inside of you with a shaky thrust of his hips, squeezing you tight against him, “I think of you, always. You must know—know that.”

It pulls at your heart, tugs in a way that makes your entire body ache. He pulls out with a low grunt, silently tucking himself away as you adjust your dress.

“And I love you,” You admit, watching as his gaze pulls up quickly, “even if you cannot say it back. I know. I know you do.”

Marcus breathes harshly through his nose, crowding you once more but it is soothed by a gentle kiss, “You need to leave—do not come back here.”

“Marcus,” You counter, sadness lacing your tone.

“If, by some miracle, I make it out of here,” He drags his thumb along your jawline, pausing on his words as he looks you over, memorizes you, “I will find you.”

You nod jerkily, eyes never breaking from his, “Just like you always have.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

thanks to @chaotic-mystery & @pr0ximamidnight for being the absolute best friends ever and beta'ing this for me on a moments notice, ily both.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius smut #gladiation 2 fanficition #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius fanfiction #my writing #ANYWAYS

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midnightshindig · 3 months ago

Note

I love Donald so much, I wish he got more love from the fandom. Can I request general dating headcanons for Donald? Both SFW and NSFW (if you want, no pressure if you're not comfortable!)

Donald X Reader hcs (sfw and nsfw)

I'll put a warning for Nsfw dw!

super short lol... thank you for the request!!

Hcs under the cut

Sfw

Donald is a total dweeb ngl

Like he's not too good at handling himself in social situations without being an aloof government assistant

he really likes the song "government hooker" he finds it absolutely hilarious

a weirdly good dancer

but white man dancing, don't get it twisted

does a little shimmy iykwim

like to twil you for fun

this mf is so phineas and ferb coded what the fuuuuuuuck

Type of man who, in casual circumstances, is wearing a short sleeve button up OVER his tshirt

probably with some nice fitting cargo pants or darkwash jeans or something

but honestly he wears the suit so much he probably just sticks with that

probably has a watch collection

his dad had one so ofc he has one

Call you "dear" but in the exact same tone he says "sir" or "ma'am" like very matter-of-fact like it's either your name or your title

When he's trying to be sweet he'll wrap his arms around your waist and lean over and be all "I love my wife/husband/spouse" and then you'll be all "I love you too" and he's all "Bitch I was talking about my PARTNER who are you?"

but he's just being silly and then he kisses you

Likes to get brunch with you

idk why he seems like he'd fuck up some eggs Benedict

Or some bacon

definitely a savory food person

He likes it when you order for him, he has to handle so much in his day-to-day that his love language is acts of service

His love language to give to you is definitely physical touch

gives great massages

gives AMAZING hugs (its okay I'm fat too I can say that)

used to love the terminator movies

now it's just a little too weird

same with teen titans

Super into Back to the Future and is so bummed he never gets to figure out time travel

plays boardgames with you whenever he can

that's his ideal date

board games

that or an escape room

Nsfw

Type of man who is bouncing between extremes

unlike Cecil who is always temperate and chill, Donald flips between being too busy/stressed to have a sex drive to jumping your fucking bones

he eats you out idc

He's a robot, his stamina is "yes"

why would he not?

He's a FIEND for lingerie or really just... cute intimate pajamas

Loves it when you wear his t-shirts and just underwear to bed

He's a solid 5 inches, but thick as hell

it's all in the technique

HEY WAIt- do you think the guy who has to rebuild his dick is weird about it? like... that's gotta be weird

Cecil refuses to let Donald change his appearance as a cyborg so he doesn't fracture his sense of self beyond repair

which is fair but Donald's still mad about it

Donald is a panter

doesn't make a lot of noise but he breathes super heavy, which is hot in its own way

like, he's over here breathing HEAVY because he's using all his muscle and attention to fuck you into this mattress

Struggles to put on jeans sometimes bc of his stomach and you just watch in AWE as he wiggles into his jeans

On that note he wears dark gray briefs exclusively

the socks stay ON in bed

he's weird about feet

like babu it doesn't matter you're a robot

andthen no sex bc he's having a crisis about being a robot again

poor guy

Really good with his hands

accidentally bites WAY too hard when giving you hickeys

fucking obsessed with your stomach and the way it feels and looks

big, round, flat, midsize, abs, he's obsessed it doesn't even matter

not even sexual but also it turns him on when you wear croptops

or when he can see your stomach when you lift your arms in a slightly too short shirt

ugh he's a freak fr

no he's not he's a totally average dude who wants you carnally

its just life lmao

#invincible #invincible show #invincible season 3 #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #donald ferguson x reader #invincible donald #donald x reader #i promise i’ll get those requests done #invincible spoilers #invincible cecil #cecil stedman

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eye-may · 1 month ago

Note

Can we hear the secrets behind why you don't like qui-gon?

sorry I'm responding to this idek how many years late! I'm older and more burdened with real life responsibilities now, so I am no longer concerned with the repercussions I will inevitably sustain from extolling my soul's torment over a fictional character from leorge jucas's self-insert seven samurai au fanfiction.

more beneath the cut! I suggest not reading if you will become emotionally compromised by incendiary opinions regarding your problematic fav

put simply: he's awesome and commendable in every regard except when it comes to ob-wan kenobi, to whom he is a massive steaming pile of shit, and it's not IN SPITE of the fact that he's otherwise fine, it's BECAUSE of the fact that he's otherwise fine.

maybe I'm projecting but I've personally known the type of person who goes around acting as an altruistic beacon of light and amicability, but then turns around and is a prick to the people who are nearest to them and most constantly in their presence (hi dad!) I don't understand how I'm supposed to buy into the idea that qui-gon was uniquely bespoke ideologically leagues ahead of his fellow jedi when he does shit like ditch his padawan to face dangers unknown on the regular

before you "legends isn't canon that stuff didn't happen!" me, idc! a sizeable portion of the insight we have into qui-gon's history in conjunction with obi-wan is pre-disney-takeover, and the homophobic rodent has done nothing to move qui-gon's proverbial needle if we get into the nitty-gritty of his aptitude as a jedi master specifically. what reason do I have to believe that post-disney qui-gon wouldn't abandon thirteen year-old obi-wan without a weapon on a hostile war-torn planet over his heterosexual fixation on an old flame??? and then not fucking think about him or ask about him, let alone go back for him afterward?? "tHaT wAs oBI-wAn'S cHoicE!" hi!! he's in sixth grade!! little bro's a decade and a half away from choosing a college major; sometimes as the middle-aged adult it's time to step in! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

qui-gon evaded obi-wan like the plague on the onset, partly because of his xanatos trauma, which is fine! he's allowed to feel that way! can't blame a bitter old man for not wanting to raise another adolescent boy! but regardless of apprenticing obi-wan, the force would be screaming max-volume, twenty-seven hundred decibels, "OBI-WAN IS IN DANGER! OBI-WAN NEEDS HELP!" and this grown ass adult whom everyone says is the most ethically high-flown jedi that ever jedi'd will literally ignore the multi-trillion God Particle's portents and get some shut-eye. (this actually happened) obi-wan HIMSELF, who had been homeless on a foreign planet amidst a devastating war, sent a message to the temple asking for help, and when yoda tried to show qui-gon, qui-gon's immediate reaction was "I don't have time for this" and to walk away. bro was hellbent on leaving this child to quietly perish.

I swear to god we need to normalize giving control of current canonical star wars to people who don't noticeably hate obi-wan, because the novel 'padawan' is all about qui-gon being a negligent edgelord and the summary frames it like obi-wan is causing the core problem. 'obi-wan impulsively decides to go on the mission by himself' how about 'qui-gon impulsively decides not to fucking show up' and apparently not communicate a thing to his teenage student in the throes of his emotional constipation.

in 'masters and apprentice' (also technically canon for the mouse purists!) qui-gon was patently, expressly, relieved at the idea of having an 'out' of his mentorship with obi-wan. and then in the end when he ultimately decides to continue their duoship (he never consulted or communicated with obi-wan by the way) it's not because he's looking out for obi-wan's better interests. it's not because he was worried about how the severance would affect obi-wan's progress. it's not because he would miss him or feel bad about the emotional fallout, the implications. at the end of the book, he learns jack shit about understanding and connecting with his student. he stays ensconced in his metaphorical ivory tower, making decisions with himself and his grandiose foresights in mind; he doesn't spare a thought towards his student! his kid! the guy whose emotional and intellectual development he's patently responsible for! not to mention btw qui-gon didn't tell obi-wan that he was thinking about ditching his ass. obi-wan had to find out from someone else.

I could go on. at the end of the day, when qui-gon felt that he was brushing up against the materialization of his soothsaying Special Interest (he calls them prophecies, I call them Can't You Be Normal??), he was all too ready to dump his padawan for the umpteenth time, never once stopping to inquire after how obi-wan feels about this development. he shows infinite warmth and admiration towards anakin, behaves in this soft fatherly manner, celebrates his wins and is anxious to contribute to his development...and name me any comparable moment he ever had with obi-wan kenobi, an individual whose life went to shit countless times and who never used any of the physical and emotional pitfalls to rationalize Turning To The Dark Side. it's like. it's like qui-gon never spares a thought for obi-wan. he's thinking about everybody else. consoling everybody else. uplifting everybody else. he's last spoken words aren't an expression of pride, or an attempt at soothing platitudes, or a wisened axiom. qui-gon's final words aren't about obi-wan. they're about anakin. at the end of 'master and apprentice,' Obi-Wan is leaning over his unburned pyre before the ceremony and contemplating the fact that after everything...he almost got ditched again. (btw just incidentally it drives me NUTS that one interview where david felony is all "qui-gon was fighting for his son" in reference to anakin BABE? HE KNEW THAT PAIN IN THE ASS SHORT STACK FOR A WEEK)

Incidentally, in that same book, qui-gon becomes privy to the fact that, in choosing to see the mission through (while qui-gon phoned it in because he's Not Like Other Jedi), obi-wan is putting himself directly in the line of oncoming fire. and what does qui-gon do? warn obi-wan? interrupt the doomed ceremony? risk a public crash out in favor of bodily removing his surrogate child from the epicenter of foretold harm? none of the above! he just sits and waits for the shit to hit the fan.

I feel like obi-wan's life story can be surmised in the lens of constantly being surrounded by dipshits that don't deserve him. my thing furthermore is that star wars canon across the board portrays kenobi as an intrinsically good-natured, tooth-rottingly virtuous, inherently respectful, kind, bright, exemplary adherent to the epitome of Light/The Force. The ideal Jedi, a beacon, a selfless student of divinity that goes on to lead an army, and then to overcome the most extreme variety of losses to stand as the last hope his people ever had in the galaxy after it all fell to ruin. as a padawan, obi-wan was studios, respectful, obedient, admiring, a rule-follower. he was committed to the Jedi Order and desperate to contribute to the greater good. it's not like he was checked out, indifferent, or like he was emotionally volatile, or troubled, or difficult, or disobedient, or whateverthefuck, he's literally a perfect fucking kid. despite that, there's something about him that just doesn't "click" for qui-gon, that isn't worthy of qui-gon's efforts to broker an understanding or foster a meaningful connection. show me one instance, in canon or in legends, in which qui-gon shows genuine paternal warmth and affection towards his padawan. just kidding! I'll save you the effort! you can't!

you will, however, be able to find such moments between him and anakin. for the love of god, I recall in m&a a rather poignant moment between qui-gon and DOOKU. DOOKU! why am I more apt to believe that dooku cared about his padawan, than I am to believe that qui-gon gave a fuck about his 😭 you can't tell me like "oh thats just the way qui-gon is, he's aloof, he's emotionally unexpressive, he's this that and the other thing" so the thing is no he's not!! he's CHARACTERISTICALLY emotional, available, and transparent in very UN-JEDI-LIKE WAYS! I guess there's just something about innocent, inoffensive obi-wan that really brings out qui-gon's coldness and psychological impenetrability! qui-gon is, by all accounts, warm and openly familial towards other important people in his life; tahl, feemor, xanatos, etc...and then along comes obi-wan caught in the throes of what is apparently the worst fucking phase of qui-gon's life.

obi-wan, meanwhile, inherits an apprentice who is, again by all acounts...difficult. disobedient. troubled. etc. and yet obi-wan remains so steadfast and caring and committed that he fosters a connection between himself and his padawan that is so luminescent and intimate in the end. to the point where palpatine HAD to ensure that the two were separated in order for his plans to come to fruition. to the point where palpatine considered using obi-wan as his linchpin for anakin's downward spiral before he realized he'd have to use padme. if obi-wan could show enough patience and good grace to steadily nurture his connection with Future Space Hitler, what is qui-gon's excuse???? you can't even tell me I'm hitting him with some blown-out-of-proportion drastically-uncharitable misleading interpretations because halfway through jedi apprentice qui-gon HIMSELF acknowledged that he was being a prick to obi-wan FOR NO REASON?

anyway qui-gon earned his fucking bashing tag on ao3. if I got my hands on this god foresaken intellectual property my first order of business would be to undo all the injustices obi-wan suffered at the hands of his negligent deadbeat volatile dadperson. Im all for complicated relationships with ups and downs but if qui-gon can't be arsed to spare a first or second thought to his angelic ass child, then the dynamic is nothing more than incomprehensible and stupid to me </3

anyway, bonuses

this is a smattering. a smidgen. a negligible soupçon of my torment that is frankly ameliorated by years of dormancy. anyway obi-wan is the most tragic character in star wars objectively

#obi-wan kenobi

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the-froschamethyst4 · 1 year ago

Text

A Player Knows Game

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Soap x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, angst, mention of sex, strong language, disrespectful teenager, married couple, arguing, underage smoking and underage drinking,

𖤐Summary: Soap and Y/n's teenage son Ryker is becoming a bit disrespectful to his parents and Soap wants to put a stop to his disrespectful antics

————

11:00PM

"I'm so tired," Y/n, the wife of Soap yawns.

"I know...I am too, and we can't sleep because of him and his midnight antics," Soap's eye twitched in annoyance, it's almost every night now, Ryker has brought a new girl home to fuck.

He thinks his parents are asleep but in reality they can't sleep when their son's bed frame is hitting the wall and some girls were fucking loud.

Y/n rubs her tired eyes and Soap held her to his chest, he looks down and sees that Y/n looked so tired, she had work tomorrow, and a important meeting as well.

"Okay, that's it!" Soap moves off the bed and put on some sweatpants.

"Johnny? What are you doing?" She gets off the bed and holds his arm.

"Going to put a fucking stop to this, this is almost every fucking night now, I'm tired, you're tired, I'm done, this fucking stops," he quickly and forcefully opens the master bedroom door and goes to his sons door which just a few steps away.

He knocks on his sons bedroom door, he hears rustling inside and some chuckling and giggling around in the bedroom, making Soap a little more angry.

Soon, the door opens and Ryker was face-to-face with an angry dad and a worried mother.

"What?" Ryker sounded annoyed.

"What's what, is that your mother and I are trying to sleep and we can't when you are in here making so much fucking noise," Soap says.

"We're...just having fun," Ryker raised his eyebrows and looked at Soap and Y/n.

"Too much fucking fun, Miss grab your shit and leave my house," Soap says, looking at the girl on Ryker's bed holding his blanket to her bare chest.

"Whatever," she rolls her eyes and starts grabbing her clothes as Ryker and Soap were just having a pissed off staring contest with each other. The girl walks between Soap and Ryker and left without saying another word to either of them.

"John," Y/n grabs at her husband's buff and veiny arm.

"Next time you want to have your so-called 'fun' fucking do it somewhere else, not in my house," Soap didn't care if his son was having sex as long as his son was protected but he hates hearing it almost every fucking day.

Soap and Y/n head back to their bedroom and Y/n fell on her side of the bed and passed out almost immediately as Soap leans against the headboard of the bed and soon fell asleep.

-----------

Ryker lays on his bed looking at his phone his LED lights in the color red as he was shirtless and was texting the girl he was just with.

Kenzie: *What a buzzkill*

Ryker: *Yeah, they fucking suck, they never cared before and now all of a sudden they care, it's fucking annoying* *Anyways, do you want to go to Echoes and do it there?*

Echoes was a rec-bar that people Ryker's age went to, to play games, bowl, smoke, drinking and even do it in the bathrooms. The owner of Echoes didn't care what people did in his bar, it's basically run by teenagers.

Kenzie: *I don't know, maybe*

Ryker: *I have to know before I move to the next girl*

Yeah, Ryker is a fucking player or fuckboy which ever you prefer and basically has a LIST of girls he wants to fuck, or who asked to be fucked by him.

Kenzie: *No, move on, idc*

Ryker: *Ok*

----------

9:39AM

Soap had woken up to the sound of his son blasting music, he rubs his tired eyes and looks to see no Y/n next to him, she must've left for the day.

Soap groans and get out of bed, pulling his bedroom door open and walk down the hall seeing his sons bedroom door wide open and he was moving around his bedroom as Soap walked passed his bedroom.

Ryker has gotten to the point where he's disrespecting Soap and Soap's house rules. Y/n is usually busy with work that she doesn't know much that's happening with Soap and Ryker.

Soap and Ryker use to do everything together, fishing, camping, going to sports games, but once Ryker reached High School that all went out the window and Ryker became a fuckboy.

Soap wonders how it happened. If he's hanging out with the wrong group of friends, but Soap met all his friends and they all seem pretty cool, none are disrespectful and respect both Soap and Y/n.

Soap fixed himself some coffee and walked to the front door seeing the newspaper at the front door. Soap doesn't know why they still get the newspaper, he has TV and a phone that gives him the News.

"I'm heading out!" Ryker says, basically pushing passed Soap, almost making Soap spill his coffee.

"RYKER!" Soap yells, and Soap watched Ryker walk halfway down the driveway. Soap puts his arms in the air and walks back inside the house.

----------

Ryker walks to his friends house opening the door and walking inside.

"RYKER'S HERE!!" Ryker announces himself to his friends, who all yell and Ryker plops himself on the couch as his friend Zion passed him a joint.

"How was Kenzie?"

"Dude, didn't even get to finish because of my old man."

"Really!?"

"Hell yeah, dude," Ryker talked shit about Soap, Ryker didn't care.

"But didn't she feel good though?"

"Oh fuck yeah dude. I was all over that shit, but again, I didn't even fucking finish because of my dickhead of a father."

---------

1:00PM

Soap yawns and looks at the TV it was noon and Ryker was still at Zion's as far as Soap knew at least. The front door opened revealing Ryker. He places his bag by the front door and walks in.

"You reek of weed," Soap says.

"What you going to tell mom?" Ryker snickers.

"Ryker. I don't fucking know what has gotten into you, but you are not the son I fucking raised."

"Yes, it fucking is," Ryker says.

"I didn't raise you, to drink and smoke at a young age, I didn't teach you to have sex at 16, are you even protecting yourself? I don't know because you are not talking to me...you use to tell me...everything, Ryker...what the fuck happened?"

"I grew up," Ryker says before walking upstairs to his bedroom and Soap hears the bedroom door slam shut.

----------

3:16PM

Soap places his head in his hands and he hears the front door open.

"I'm home!" Y/n says. Soap lifts his head up and Y/n made eye contact with a red eyed Soap. "Soap? What's wrong?" Y/n drops everything and walks to him, taking his head and holding him closer to her chest.

"I feel like I failed as a father...I failed my son...I failed you."

"You didn't fail me or Ryker."

"Angel, you don't understand."

"What do I not understand?" She asked him, looking down at him.

"I raised my son to be respectful to anyone and everyone...and he turned into a fuckboy...and he's disrespectful to us...what did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong, John. You did your absolute best as a father...he's...he's just hitting a phase where if he's disrespectful he'll get friends, he's still your little boy."

"He's not a baby anymore, angel...he's a teenager..."

Only if Soap knew that Ryker heard everything. Ryker was around the corner before heading to the living room, he stops when hearing Soap's breaking voice and his moms soft voice trying to comfort him.

-----------

5:00PM

"Mom...do you want help with dinner?" Ryker had come downstairs seeing his mom get ready for dinner.

"If you want to peel the potatoes. Your father usually does it for me."

"Where's he?"

"Bed, he's taking a nap...he's a little stressed right now," she says. Ryker has a feeling on why he may be stressed.

"Dad's pissed at me."

"Ryker-"

"I know, I'm sorry."

"No...your father told me what's going on...why are you doing this?"

"I don't know, mom...it was like a switch when I stepped in High School. Guess it was all those Disney shows that show when you're in High School you have to be a badass to get by."

"Be serious, Ryker..."

"I don't know, mom."

"Where you afraid you might not be liked?" Ryker just shrugs. "Your father has done so much for you and I, I hope you know that."

"I do, mom...I know..." Ryker placed all the peeled potatoes on a napkin and moved them to the stove and plopped them in a boiling pot.

Ryker watched his mom make dinner and he leans on the counter rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry for keeping you both up last night."

"It's okay, Ryker." She smiles at her son and kissed his temple.

"Mom, I'm too old for kisses."

"You will love my kisses rather you like them or not," she starts kissing all over his face making him laugh and her laugh as well. Soap watched from a distance as Ryker was smiling, a smile he hasn't seen in a long time.

Soap steps closer to Y/n and his son. Y/n smiles up at Soap and kissed his lips before he looks at Ryker and rubs his fluffy hair.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, you are."

"You McTavish boys are so emotional," Y/n jokes.

"Whatever," John then attacks Y/n with kisses. Ryker watched as his parents showed their love to each other.

---------

Next Day (12:00PM)

Zion: *Yo, you coming over? Lily, Avery, and Winter are coming over, you wanna round?* *Hello?* *Dude?* *Earth* *To* *Ryker?*

Ryker hears his phone blowing up by Zion. Ryker looks at the messages and turns his phone to 'Do Not Disturb' him and Soap were at the lake. Do a long do fishing trip.

"This is nice," Soap says.

"Oh yeah," Ryker says.

"This is fun...later do you want food?" Soap asked.

"Yep," Ryker says popping the 'p'.

"We'll see what you mom wants after this."

"Okay."

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish

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doueverwonder · 29 days ago

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okay you've gotten me hooked on the military branches in WTTT, I'm seriously considering making designs for them all now 😭

in the meantime tho

Do you have any headcanons for Marines? Would he be friends with any of the states? (Maybe Texas? Idk he was my first thought)

Also him crying about a box of limited edition crayons in the other post u made is AMAZING and so so real 🙏

if you are considering making designs for them i offer my faceclaims for them as basis maybe 👀

okay so, i don't particularly think the branches are markedly close with any of the states or even Gov tbh (minus Nash obviously). They're busy and all over the place, including regularly outside of the country, they speak way more often with other federal personifications. Think the way CDC comes around sometimes but we all know he's gotta have other stuff going on behind the scenes, (the branches main points of contact are IDC, Defense, Homeland Security, and Veterans Affairs.)

That's not to say they don't/can't/won't get to know or hang around the states its just kinda far and in between stuff. and they DO tend to know the states that have spent extended periods of time in the military better than others (all states have probably been in/heavily involved in the military at some point some just made it a whole thing while others did what they had to and got out). (like obsessed with @and-the-flame-burns NY was in the navy hc and think bc of that NY and Navy are somewhat closer than Navy would be with the average state)

okay I'm done, that was a rant, onto Marines HC :)

I could see Texas and Marines being friends but its probably less of a traditional friendship and more,,, picking on each other (tx was/is in the army), pissing contests, and a healthy dose of mutual respect. Kinda guy you could go out for a beer with and have a good conversation, but not the person you're going to call first for anything y'know.

so obv u can see my faceclaim but ALSO Marines in my head is based off one of my dads clients who was a marine and hated carrying around the battering ram so he learned how to knock down doors without it then convinced his commander to let him leave the ram behind; he agreed on the condition that they better never come across a door he can't open. and they never did. his entire 12 yrs in the Marine Corps there was never a door stronger than him. that is to illustrate when I say Marines is big and intimidating I mean it.

stereotypes ik but he is,,, not the brightest crayon in the box. Which he's not a total idiot, so much as he just doesn't think shit through entirely before doing them, he's a man of action not thought.

He's Gay thank you for your time.

(Only attracted to men but got through 240 years of queer people not being allowed in the military just fine, while Navy's bi ass was STRUGGLING despite having dated multiple women (he's got a girl in every port ;))

speaking of Navy, codependent motherfuckers. The loui and flo of the branches. are they dating. are they best friends. will they die if they're separated for more than 20 min. maybe. they sure acted like it when it got out there would no longer be marine detachments on most navy ships. coast is praying he never ends up in the DOD under the dept of the navy bc he is NOT getting stuck between these two.

(also this post by @floridagirlboy is canon to me)

"do i even weigh anything to you" "no, its like holding a couple of grapes" is Marines with Air and Space Force

(Dept of Defense walking into the meeting and seeing them sitting on his shoulders: Air, Space, you have planes and satellites if you want to see from up high. Stop asking Marines to pick you up.)

uhh that's all I think.

Those crayons are his prized possession bc Space Force is little and new and has a whole lot of stuff to figure out and YET she still remembered his birthday and got him something. cuteness aggression like never seen before incoming/j

#we did it boys #i've been insane enough about another thing to get other people on board #wttt marine corp #(i realized i had been forgetting the s but i'm too lazy to go back and fix them all lol)#wttt #welcome to the table #also too lazy to tag everyone mentioned in this post

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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I present to you today: my loud simp daddy Channie brain rot

God we all know how much Channie just naturally takes on that dad roll to anyone he meets (I'm the same way xD) but he's such a fucking simp for you that all you gotta do is say please.

The only issue with that is that you struggle to ask for things that you want. You can't even ask for a sip of his water or a bite of his food (that he would HAPPILY give you and genuinely anything else you asked for) without feeling bad for some reason. So you just never ask for things. But of course Channie knows exactly what his baby wants all the time so that's never a problem to begin with.

Now here's where this comes into play~

One day he's railing you into the fucking mattress because that's what he knows his baby wants. He's already made you come 3 times, once on his fingers and twice in his mouth. So maybe you're just so overstimulated that you just can't help but to accidentally pull his hair REALLY fucking hard when he puts you in a position that makes you see stars from how deep he's hitting. But you were expecting him to stop and say something like "baby, that hurt. are you okay? Did I go too hard? Do you wanna stop?" But instead he lets out the most sinful moan along with the tiniest whimper at the end and you swear he's fucking you deeper if that's even possible. And good Lord you CLENCH because men moaning is hot in general but when its him moaning and whimpering?? Fuck. You could listen to that shit all day.

And again. Another thing that surprises you is him practically begging you to do that again. "Baby, fuck. God that felt so fucking good. You think you can do that for me again, princess? Please?" So you do and he's moaning even louder and you didn't think you could be any more turned on but you're so close to cumming AGAIN and it hasn't even been 5 minutes yet. And he can feel it. He knows you too well and knows exactly what you like in this situation but he just wants to hear you say it. He wants you to ask for something you want.

"whats got my princess clenching like that, huh? Come on, tell daddy"

You don't even know if you can speak at this point without sounding like an idiot but your head is just so hazy that you mumble out "be louder please.. like it.." and the way he twitches so hard inside of you 🥴 goodnesssss.

"anything for my fucking princess" he groans out so deeply. And you're already cumming once again and he's no better. Filling you to the absolute max while whimpering like the simp he is for you. 🥴

I got so carried away there but idc, it's been stuck in my head for so long now. Enjoyyyyy~

BARK BARK BARK BARK AROOOFNGK BARKBAKR AKR OWOF WOFO

#juno’s asks ♡#asks: channie #user: ardef38

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divinelolita · 2 years ago

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IM ALIVE

and i love you too baeeee and dw idc when you finish this😘

whole band headcannons seperate ofc with there bf(or gn reader if you cant include much but if you can include a little thats chill idc) who is so fucking stupid

like karen from mean girls stupid. for example if someone asked him if he was top or bottom he'd be like "oh bottom! top bunks make me nervous." like💀💀

and another example is if he cooked something and it's hot he'd only say careful its hot AFTER you choke on how hot it is😭

i feel like they'd love him so much but sometimes he's just real fucking dumb💀💀💀

also you don't have to use the first two those are just examples ofccc i love youuuuu

TOKIO HOTEL X DUMB MALE READER

hi bb! ilym 😋🙏 i hope this is good enough cuz recently my work has been iffy...........

---

BILL:

・He finds this shit funny bro

・Can't help but smile whenever you say some dumb shit.

・He feels like he's dreaming if you tell him late at night

"Bill?"

".....what?"

"... Why do we need farmers if we have grocery stores?"

・If you say that shit at 2AM he'd spend the rest of the night thinking about it.

・He gets headaches from how hard he thinks about it

"M/N..how do you even conjure up this type of stuff.."

・He can't tell if your genuinely confused or just fucking with him.

・He doesn't care though, he loves you and your stupidity.

・Actually finds himself asking you more and more questions just to see how far your imagination goes.

TOM:

・this cunt will laugh at you

・Let's out a few chuckles when you said something dumb for the first time

・He then realised you weren't joking and were actually serious 💀

"Why doesn't earth just..fall? Why are we floating?"

"..."

"M/N..- what the fuck is wrong with you."

・Sometimes he just agrees with whatever your saying and encourages you to go on, seeing how long he can go without chuckling

・He's not judging you- he actually really loves this about you.

・He will NEVER admit it but his heart melts whenever you say the dumbest shit.

・He tries not to correct you for the sake of your ego 🤷🏻🤷🏻

GEORG:

・He's like a dad with a dumb kid in this situation 💀

"Georg- does carbonated water have carbs?"

"Not exactly, M/N. The reason for this is....."

・He'd explain everything to you bro 😪

・Very unlike Tom.

・I feel like he's fine with whatever you say but like physical things get to him

・Like for example if you just mopped the floor and he comes in, stepping into the room as he nearly slips and grabs onto whatever piece of furniture will secure him.

"Oh by the way, Georg, the floor is wet. So be careful going in the room!"

"...Thanks."

・He can't help but chuckle to himself

・He nearly sprained his ankle but he didn't really care- he finds it cute how oblivious you are.

・You make him happy and thats all that matters to him.

GUSTAV:

・His brain stops processing for a minute.

・Stares at you for a minute as he thinks of something to say back.

"I'm so confused... Is an egg a fruit or vegetable?"

".. Good question. Why don't you look it up?"

・Like Tom he cant help but let out small guffaws and chuckles

・He has a few small burns on his fingertips from cooking with you.

"Oh Gustav can you check the pan?"

"Yeah sure, M/N...OH FUCK! -"

"Watch out, the stoves on!"

・At the end of the day he doesn't really care

・He love you way to much, like it's actually concerning how much he loves you.

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veryloudbrain · 1 year ago

Text

walter + henry "masterpost" (canon)

season 1

1x01 they sit together at dinner(?). before wille grabs their attention, they seem deep in conversation and HENRY GLANCES AT WALTER’S LIPS (im delulu ..but not really). this is their first canon interaction. i cannot make this shit up. i’m losing my mind. they sit together in class. they stick close (walter is fucking leaning on henry) at the very first party (after wille’s initiation). they’re both drinking. walter is spotted without henry for like a literal millisecond (idk where his mans went). walter and henry hang with stella and felice (at least until felice runs off to throw up lol) when wille is like,, crowdsurfing (using that term loosely) walter is not with henry mans lost him where is he.. (probably throwing up somewhere idk)

1x02 simon sits between them at lunch.

they sit together in class (on monday? the party was friday.. i assume)

math tests are handed out. they sit close and show their grades to eachother. (comparing results maybe ?)

wille mentions they take private lessons.. together ? over the weekend ? bro i cant defend them. (not that i want to)

henry joins rowing practice. they’re wearing MATCHING SHIRTS. i cannot make this shit up.

they’re both attending rowing practice still when august.. kisses simon (LMAO)

they debatably sit together at the movie night. they’re social distancing for some reason but no one is between them. henry looks over at walter (i’m delulu, he was probably looking at august) after The Jumpscare

1x03 the week after the horror movie (exact day unknown) henry sits with wille in class, but walter is in the seat literally next to him just,, with a space lol

(same week) they work out on the SAME GODDAMN MAT in p.e (either that or their mats are placed so close they don’t show a space.. idk which is gayer tbh)

they stick together during the parents day, but sit in different rows in church (..for some reason?)

after church neither of them are spotted interacting with any adult or even eachother in the background. they went ~poof~

i think you see walter entering his dorm? but it could be a different background actor honestly i don't know

for breakfast the day after: henry mentions to walter that his dad recognized his surname.

“no, i know” “how long have you known?” “i know because my… my dad recognized your surname”

this convo confirms to me that they didn’t know eachother before hillerska.

note: the convo was very light-hearted and henry was smiling (this has lead to theories about their parents having dated in the past, i also heard that uno, walter's actor, confirmed this but i haven't seen this for myself so i'm not sure)

1x04 they sit together while watching erik’s funeral on TV the Society "meeting". henry is never technically explicitly shown to drink or take pills but he seems inebriated and picks up a pack of pills from the table so i'm gonna assume he did both (so much fanfic potential i'm clawing at the walls)

1x05 they’re not sitting together in class, both having 2 desks by themselves until wille joins henry. walter is in the seat directly behind him. (side note: henry is wearing the same goddamn sweater he was at the Society meeting. was it washed or does he just stink of booze in class ? LMAO)

plot explained why they aren’t sitting together !! walter was meant to do a presentation with alexander and therefore left the seat for him.

they sit together again in class. this would be the week after the class they didn’t.

henry attends another Society “emergency meeting” (alexander was caught with the drugs) (this isn't walty but idc)

henry looks stressed/conflicted after the 2nd Society emergency meeting, but walks out with wille. (probably hard for him cause he can tell something’s going on between wille and simon, but pinning it on alexander is also a shitty thing to do)

they(walty) stand together outside before the whole lucia thing starts.

walter is fiddling with something with his left hand. it doesn’t show up in the shot, but henry is right there on his left. (they were obviously having a thumb war /j)

they’re both talking with wille after the lucia thing, but they’re so caught up in their conversations they don’t even bat an eye when wille’s whole life falls apart (it's not funny but it's really fucking funny)

1x06 at breakfast sometime after the video got out. henry and walter are talking abt how wilmon sat together at the movie night and that they talked abt it after.

h “remember the movie night?” w “yeah” h “when they sat next to eachother” w “exactly!” h “we talked abt that” w “yeah we talked abt that!”

(as if they weren’t also sitting next to eachother)

in class sometime that week (tuesday or later) they sit separate in class again. walter is gossiping (or just talking tbh idk) with some other students while henry sits alone. wille sits next to henry and henry attempts small talk with wille to cut the tension) (walty are once again only separated by the aisle lol)

they sit together in church on christmas day (or eve ? i’m not sure honestly)

they also talk together (+vincent och nils) outside church after. henry quickly noticed wilmon hugging (gay noticing gay frfr)

[i need it to be known this was initially written by me right after season 2 came out and i rewatched everything]

#young royals #henry x walter #henry and walter #walty #valty #i wish they would decide on a way to spell walter/valter and stick to it bro

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mirensiart · 4 months ago

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I have a whole lot of questions.. .(answer at your risk)(oh also some of them are about oc)

1. Who is pen in your oc comic? Wasn’t he in that one where Chain was like, “Who is that girl?” and the girl was literally just Key

2. Do you like when people write fics where Marin is alive? If so, do you like the ones where she lives with Legend and Ravio?

3. Does Legend know who Malon is? Because in Oracle of Seasons, there’s a Cusco girl who says that her dad, Talon, is climbing a mountain or something… I’m pretty sure that girl is named Malon

4. Do you like fics where if Ravio saw Wars he would be like, “Hey! I know you!”?

5. How do you see Twilights and Dusk relationship as friends. I’ve seen a lot of fics where he just isn’t fond of Dusk and like never talks so her.

6. Do you like it when people say Fable and Legend are siblings and like they act goofy around each other?

7. When people write fics with Wind in them, do you prefer it when Wind acts more like a pirate and swears like every second or when he is a baby who just cry’s every minute?

8. This is really random but are Riju and Wild friends? (She’s like one of my favorite Zelda characters that’s why I asked)

9. Do you think Wild still has his champion abilities?

10. Have you read This is an Adjuration? If not… READ IT!! It’s probably the best LU fic I ever read

11. Have you read To Isolate? An also must read! It’s amazing! I love it so much!!

12. Do you think that Hyrule has a blood curse? Like the whole thing that he could revive Ganon?

13. Do you think Four has four different conversations in his mind? A lot of people write it that way which I love however, Jojo in one of comics (the one where four splits) says that he doesn’t have four different voices in his head!

14. Could Chain technically make his chain so long that Key could go where ever she wants without him having to follow her?

15. Have you read any other Zelda comic series? I’ve been reading Bonus Link and I really love it! You should definitely read it.

No pressure to answer any of these. You also don’t have to answer them all! (no pressure!) :) I love your art by the way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :3

Ok so first of all, a lot of these questions are fic related and I don't read a lot of fics in general cause I don't have a lot of free time, so between drawing or reading I usually go with drawing lol

That said, I will answer to these without the "fic knowledge" but with just my general opinion on the matter

1. Pen is @chiangyorange 's Link OC! We like to draw our zelink ocs hanging out for fun :) also you should check out chiangy cause their aus are *chef's kiss*

2. Haven't read those fics, but I'm not against the idea? I have seen marin/legend/ravio around as an ot3 here on tumblr and I think that's super cute, so I approve of it

3. When you're asking me this do you mean as in, in my pain sharing au comic? Cause if that's the case then I leave it up to your own interpretation. The boys already know malon in this au, since it's set after the wolfie reveal and at that point in jojo's LU comic they've been to Lon Lon Ranch, so if they meet up with malon in this au, it's not like legend knowing her beforehand means anything lol

4. I do like the idea of ravio knowing wars+time+wind prior to LU, I think I once wrote a post where I mentioned that the idea of ravio gushing embellished stories of his link to the hw trio and then the hw trio finding out it's legend the one he was talking about is absolutely HILARIOUS

5. I would never read a fic like that tbh, I absolutely despise it when people portray the tp link + tp zelda relationship as bad or as strangers. Idc that they didn't interact in game, after what they went through together in the endgame I think it's absolutely insane to believe they wouldn't be close post game??? Like not even in a ship matter but as friends, they'd absolutely be close. So yeah, they're besties to me

6. I've answered this before, but I have no opinion on the fable + legend siblings headcanon, like I don't hate it but also don't love it? I think they can be goofy to each other, siblings or not

7. Neither? I'm very particular when it comes to wind's portrayal, and those 2 extremes are not my cup of tea at all. I like it when people make it more nuanced, like he is a pirate and he is a kid, only portraying one side of him is bad imo and I don't like it

8. Is this in relation to my pain sharing au? If you want wild to be besties with her then go for it lol I don't really mind, you can headcanon whatever when it comes to the boys' relationships outside the chain, I'm leaving them vague on purpose so anyone can insert their own headcanons

9. I do, but only because it has a lot of potential for funny scenarios

10. I haven't, but I do know about it. If I ever get enough free time I'd def read it

11. Again, no i haven't lol between my full time job + being a caretaker it's hard for me to find the time to sit down and read

12. I like this headcanon, idk if I'll use it in the au but I like it

13. My headcanon is more closely to jojo's tbh, but I do picture the colors as taking turns on who's piloting lol

14. No. I've mentioned in previous posts that extending the chain drains his magic, cause the longer the chain is the more magic he uses to maintain it.

15. I do like bonus links! I've been reading it for a while now, it's pretty neat

#miry's ask box

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deepdeanvsweston · 2 months ago

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brainrotted about the five in jfp 😔

do you have other hcs or thoughts about any of them? (legit anything idm lmaoo)

I'm actually legally not allowed to think about the Five because otherwise I start screaming and tearing doors off their hinges etc etc. /j

This didn't turn out as hcs as such but odd ramblings sorry anon 😅

Ok first of all not a hc but Poison Tree by Grouper is soooooo the Five and Elizabeth it's unbelievable please listen to it and think of Them

- Una goes on to work at Deepdean!!! This is one of my strongest beliefs of what happens to the Five, though I can never decide if she would become school nurse or headteacher

- something something JFP will never happen again under her watch...

- I personally really love Mrs Dichmann being a beloved and respected headteacher, but me and someone were talking about her being a school nurse and flirting with gym teacher Florence which was also a Good Option <3

- she and Kitty (who canonically works at Deepdean) are like. frenemies. Even without the events of JFP I think they'd clash, but also Kitty feels slightly indebted to her about looking after Binny during JFP so it's sort of... odd between them

- though if one of the male teachers dad something sexist they definitely go and have a bitch about him. Slash his tyres maybe

- Lettice goes on to do charity work! I'm not sure what in canon era, but definitely in a modern au working with a charity that tries to help young people with eating disorders

- and I mean canonically as a debutante she'd been seen favourably if she did a bit of charity work anyway

- Lettice is friends with Bertie!!! And there's a genuinely plausible way for them to meet too!!!

- ok so not to infodump about the history of the debutante BUT there's an event held at Eton every year called the 4th June (ironically not always held on the 4th June) where they do loads of boating and essentially posh versions of praise assemblies. This would be an Event that would be in your diary as a debutante, and old Etonians would be there too

- I like to think they meet at that! Lettice as a debutante, Bertie somehow roped in as a Old Etonian idk

- the important thing about their friendship to me is they don't know anything about each other. They don't realise the connection to Deepdean and Daisy (possibly mildly unrealistic seeing with Daisy's whole spiel about how all upperclass families know of each other but idc)

- idk I see similarities in them that make me scream

- (I would gladly do a Lettice and Bertie post with the slightest provocation)

- Lettice is the only one who visits Enid in prison. She's glad Enid did what she did and tells her not to regret it. Enid tells her she doesn't care about being in prison, that she'd do it a 1000 times again if it means Elizabeth would be dead every time

- (JFP timeloop au anyone???)

- Lettice always cared more about Enid than Enid did about her. Everyone but Lettice caught onto this

- honestly one of several fucked up situationships in MMU

- I hc Enid as the one to tell Elizabeth that Lettice was in a psychiatric hospital in a desperate attempt to protect herself by appeasing to Elizabeth's love of control

- actually Florence who pushes Enid to murder Elizabeth

- she makes a cruel, but offhand, comment about how Enid is a thinker, she isn't brave enough to actually do anything daring "better a fool than a coward" idk

- those are the words ringing through her head as she swings the stick

- quoted from my Enid post: it being Bonfire Night and Enid being a dramatic bitch who's read about Guy Fawkes, envisions herself as a successful him, taking down a tyrannical ruling power, and she doesn't hesitate as her fingers curl round the handle.

- I reckon Florence and Enid are two sides of the same coin. I can easily see Florence coming to the same conclusion about what to do with Elizabeth

- none of them are friends they're all just bound together by the fucking Situation

- idk how to explain it but they all wish the rest of the Five were dead but in a really sexually-charged way

- I think Elizabeth was clever in who she picked to be 'her Five'. Any of the Big Girls had secrets who she could manipulate and threaten into being cruel, but idk if they have quite the depraved level of loyalty as specifically Florence, Una, Margaret, Lettice and Enid did

- something about the Five not knowing who they are outside of a mask, or putting on that mask to hide something about themselves. None of them are true, or have a sense of belonging. I think Elizabeth gave them that. Please tell me this makes sense

Just realised I didn't write anything about Margaret and Florence??? I'd say I think you can guess who my favourites are but with the Five you don't really have favourites you have those you like to inspect under a microscope more than others

(Also to the person who asked about Beanie Martineau hcs they're on the way <3)

#i think the plot of JFP would work as a fucked up YA novel tbh #lettice you make me want to gnaw my arm off #murder most unladylike #mmu #jfp #jolly foul play #florence hamersley #una dichmann #lettice prestwich #enid gaines #margaret dolliswood #elizabeth hurst

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