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leonw4nter · 24 hours

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I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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youcouldmakealife · 2 days

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SOTM: Robbie, Playoff Willy, various Scouts; pull yourself up by the jockstrap

For the prompt: A little more of Robbie's time with the Scouts - Cup party, with the Tweedles and Willy, maybe Julius & Erin. Your choice - just more of that.

(I'm not here, but the tumblr queue is! Well. Probably.)

“Now, I know I have no right to talk about maturity,” Robbie says, then promptly ducks the jock that comes flying at him, the rest of his message going undelivered.

“No throwing shit at teammates’ heads during playoffs!” Playoff Willy yells.

“It wouldn’t hit him in the head if he wasn’t so short!” Bender says. “I misjudged!”

“Misjudging is not acceptable during playoffs!” Playoff Willy says. Robbie wants to write a book of his sayings. Like Sun Tzu but for maladjusted athletes who don’t know how to lose. Which is pretty much all pro athletes, in Robbie’s experience, so it might even sell.

Robbie nudges at the limp jock with his socked foot. It looks sad. Defeated, even. “Bro, when was the last time you replaced this?”

Bender looks to Playoff Willy, like he’s waiting for Robbie to get yelled at, though Robbie’s pretty sure Playoff Willy cares a hell of a lot less about feelings than he does about potential head injuries. Or like — anything. The only feelings Playoff Willy cares about are like, motivation. And probably bloodlust.

“Pike has a point,” Playoff Willy says. “That shit is falling apart.”

“But I wore it in!” Bender says. “None of the other ones fit right.”

Robbie pokes it a little further from him. The visitor’s room floor is sketchy as fuck, but he doesn’t think he can do the thing any damage at this point.

The elastic snaps. Well, snaps is a strong word. The elastic’s too damn worn for that, so it’s less a dramatic death and more feebly giving up on the last thread of life remaining.

“Whoops,” Robbie says. Maybe he should have considered that the thing was an antique before he started poking at it.

“Willy, look what he did!” Bender says. “That was my lucky jock!”

“How lucky can it be when we just lost the game?” Playoff Willy growls.

Bender is, thankfully, smart enough to realize that’s a rhetorical question.

“Still up a game, Playoff Willy,” Money says, and Playoff Willy shoots him a glare, but doesn’t say anything.

Robbie’s still impressed that Money’s got the balls to call him Playoff Willy to his face, and even more impressed that Playoff Willy lets him. Everybody knows Money is his favorite, but as the playoffs have gone on, that seems to buy less and less leeway. Money told him from the get-go that the longer the playoff run, the worse Playoff Willy got. Robbie didn’t really believe him, or maybe didn’t want to, but he’s got to say, Playoff Willy during the Conference Finals is a whole different beast than the first round. Emphasis on beast, there. If he mauled someone Robbie wouldn’t even be surprised. Unless they were playing well, he guesses.

Thankfully, Robbie’s been doing okay for himself, shutting down the guys he needs to shut down, so he’s also currently in Playoff Willy’s good books, at least enough that he doesn’t fear mauling.

“I’ve had that for eight years,” Bender moans.

“That’s fucking gross, dude,” Robbie says. “Genuinely. I did you a favor.”

Bender throws a glove at him. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to have been around for two presidential terms.

“If I have to leave next game because I got nut shot, that’s on you, Pike,” Bender says.

“Bro, if you go onto the ice without a jock Playoff Willy will cup check you himself,” Robbie says.

He winces, but either Playoff Willy didn’t notice the slip, or Robbie’s earned even more grace than he thought.

“He isn’t wrong,” Playoff Willy says. “Normally I wouldn’t, since it’s a chickenshit play, and an auto major, but I don’t think they really care if it’s your own teammate.”

“Refs won’t give a shit,” Scratch says. “Social media probably won’t shut up about how he slept with your wife, though.”

“I can make it look like an accident,” Playoff Willy says. Robbie does not doubt him even a little.

His brow furrows a moment later. “I don’t have a wife,” he says, sounding almost unsure.

That would be kind of suspicious, but Robbie’s learned that’s just how Playoff Willy talks about anything non-hockey related, like first he has to go consult with normal Willy, who’s being held hostage somewhere inside him.

“That could not matter less to idiots on twitter,” Scratch says.

“Last round they said I slept with your wife,” Money says.

“Why did you sleep with my wife?” Playoff Willy asks, then, after checking with kidnapped Willy again, “You’re openly gay.”

“Like I said,” Scratch says. “Could not care less about your actual relationship status. Or sexuality, apparently.”

“Scratch is still mad about it,” Joey says.

“I’m not mad about it,” Scratch says. “I just think people should do basic—“

“I fixed it!” Bender says. “I fixed it, guys! All it needed was a little super glue.”

Robbie has such a bad feeling about this. Bender’s honestly lucky his balls have survived this long: that elastic was literally holding on by a thread.

“You don’t want kids, right?” Robbie asks.

“Oh yeah,” Bender says. “Not quite yet, but Lacey and I are—“

“Oh, give me that fucking thing,” Playoff Willy says.

Super glue isn’t going do shit to save Bender’s jock after Playoff Willy and a pair of scissors get through with it.

“Have some respect for your testicles,” Playoff Willy hisses, and then marches the remains of Bender’s jock to the trash can.

That one's an instant classic. Robbie is adding it to the book of Playoff Willy for sure.

“That’s one for the book of Willy,” Harvard says. Obviously Robbie didn’t need telling, but he does appreciate that it’s becoming a collaborative effort.

“Hah,” Robbie says. “Testicles.”

“Willy,” Harvard agrees.

“What are you two giggling about?” Playoff Willy growls.

“Nothing,” they chorus, ducking their heads so they don’t accidentally meet Playoff Willy’s eyes. That’s a mistake Robbie isn’t making again.

“It was so comfortable,” Bender mumbles. “Like wearing nothing at all.”

“Yeah, buddy, we know,” Scratch says. “That was kind of the problem.”

“So comfy,” Bender whispers.

Robbie’s never been to a funeral for a jock before, but he guesses there’s a first time for everything.

“R.I.P.,” Money says. “Like rest in peace. Not like rip. Though that is what you did.”

“Before getting hacked to pieces by a madman,” Scratch says.

“May you find peace and serenity in—“

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Playoff Willy says.

“Scatter!” Money says, and they all flee. Well, Robbie doesn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to, but he’s fucking exhausted. Plus, he blocked a shot last game, and anything faster than an amble makes his leg throb like a bitch.

“What the fuck were they doing?” Playoff Willy asks.

“Funeral for the jock we murdered,” Robbie says. Well, Robbie’s crime was jockslaughter at most, but that’s not important.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Playoff Willy says, then bows his head, eyes closed. He doesn’t move for a good minute, and Robbie’s shifting uncomfortably, wondering if he's finally snapped just like the jock did, and if getting Money will help or just make it worse.

He startles when Willy speaks, murmuring, “Sorry I killed you.”

Presumably — hopefully — he’s talking to the jock, rather than saying it to Robbie just before he kills him. Robbie reminds himself he’s safe. He blocks shots.

“It was for his safety, and the greater good,” Playoff Willy says. “Thank you for your years of service.”

He opens his eyes then, and Robbie accidentally meets his eye.

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He doesn’t think he was supposed to see that either.

“I won’t tell anyone about this,” Robbie says.

Playoff Willy’e eyes narrow.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Robbie says.

“You’re a quick learner, Lombardi,” Playoff Willy says. “I like that about you.”

“I block shots too,” Robbie says, just to make sure Playoff Willy remembers his utility.

“You block shots too,” Playoff Willy murmurs, then nods to himself.

“Integral part of the team,” Robbie says, then, aware he’s over-selling it, he awkwardly shoots Playoff Willy two thumbs up.

Playoff Willy’s brow furrows, then, after a long consult with the normal Willy tied up in the basement of his brain, he gives Robbie two thumbs up back.

#fic snippet #SOTM #robbie lombardi #tate williams #joey munroe #nick angelopoulos

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marasmadness · 2 days

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hii could you possibly do a jj x emily x reader smut fic where they are protective over her and maybe someone else flirts with her idk 🫶

What We Deserve || J.J x E.P x reader

a/n: changed it slightly bc I kept getting stuck and scrapped this like three times but hope you guys like it :)

CW: dark!jemily x sunshine reader, guns, violence, Emily and JJ turning to revenge, slightest past Emily angst, stalking and sexual harassment (a man who later becomes irrelevant), threesome, age gap, smut, mild gunplay, strap-on sex, oral sex, face-sitting, daddy kink (one time), light choking, praise (she holds your hand and talks you through it🥰)

“I can stay tonight,” you offered up easily, trying to hide the fact that you were incredibly eager at the possibility of not returning home tonight.

Emily looked up from her desk, baffled by why you would ask to spend the night working, and scrutinized your body language with her eyes. This was something Garcia had warned you about when she recommended you for the job position Emily and JJ were trying to fill. They were excellent profilers, or at least formerly, but their old habits never left them.

After the two women turned to a more avenging and under-the-table profession, they turned to Garcia for her usual tech intel, but as she remained a current government employee, she was unable to give them her usual assistance. Instead, she recommended you, “her protégé,” she claimed.

You had offered up your nights to the older woman four times in the last two weeks, which wouldn’t be unusual for a demanding corporate job, but this wasn’t that. The couple worked from their grand home with three offices to exceed all their work needs. You assisted them on the tech side of things and were an expert at tracking people down. In this case, it was usually whatever unpunished psychopath or scumbag they were currently hunting.

“Why don’t you want to ever go home?” Emily questioned, resting the end of her pen on her lip. Her question was in no way rude, despite her consistently assertive tone. She just wanted to know why anyone would rather spend their nights working at a new job with few people to talk to and staring at a mini computer screen than return to a cozy apartment.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just willing to help out here,” you replied, rubbing your knuckles against the fabric of your pencil skirt.

JJ, who was shuffling through a paper trail you just printed out, profiled you cockily without even looking up. “ Lying? Didn’t think you had it in you sunshine,” the blonde quipped.

The "Sunshine" nickname and “Learn that from Garcia?” Jokes have been nonstop since you started. You weren’t sure how much of your demeanor you actually picked up from spending plenty of time with Penelope or if it just stemmed from the fact that you were generally quieter and gentler than the two women who kept guns tucked underneath their blazers at all times.

Emily flicked JJ’s shoulder as she slid behind JJ’s chair to reach a final cabinet, a subtle way of telling her to cut it out, but she couldn’t help the small smirk that crossed her face. She tipped her head toward you, pointing across the hall. “Go grab your work and bring it back here. Shut the lights off on your way back too.”

You quickly pivoted around, treading to the conference room to grab a folder and your laptop. For two vigilantes, they were incredibly organized. You assumed that’s what made them so good, and their FBI experience probably helped. You returned to work in their office, working through the list of wanted profiles and trails for the two women. At some point, Emily appeared behind you, watching as your fingers flew across the keyboard. You restrained your instinct to flinch as her hands grasped your shoulders.

After two hours, the glare of your laptop screen blurred before your eyes. Entirely zoned out, you jumped slightly when Emily’s hands found your shoulders, her breath rushing across your ear. “Go home, rest; it’s late,” the gravelly sound of her voice sounded from just above your shoulder.

“You’re still here working though,” you protested out, pointing out how her and JJ were still camped out at their desks with no intent of leaving anytime soon.

She raised her eyebrow, catching you off guard when she spun your chair around, pressing her knee into the seat beside your thigh. “That was an order. You’re no help if you come back tomorrow sleep-deprived. JJ and I have been on this schedule for years. We’ll sleep when we retire.”

You listened, gathering up your stuff. Your keys jangled against your side as you stopped to linger in the doorway before making your way out to your car.

The streets were pitch black and mostly empty as you drove to the low thrum of the radio. Your fingers bounced anxiously on the steering wheel while pulling into the parking lot beneath your apartment complex. It was late; nobody would still be out and about, and your trip up to the 3rd floor would be uninterrupted. You reassured yourself. You were right to some extent. The stairwells were empty and a little eerie.

Your hand closed around your doorknob when the reason you were reluctant to return home called out, making you flinch in the dark. “Late night?”

“Mhm,” you replied dismissively while hurriedly fumbling for your keys. You could see his silhouette in his shadow as he stepped out of his apartment and turned down the hall toward yours.

“What kept you out late?”

“Just work.” You didn’t look up, pushing your door open roughly. Slipping inside, you were a second too slow. ”Good night, Ro,” you said sternly, attempting to close the door as he appeared in your doorway. Your heart started thumping in your chest as his palm slapped against the already splintering door.

“Hey, wait up, what’s the rush?” He grinned, holding his weight against the door to keep it open. You froze, only able to keep the door at the crack it was, and no further. Too focused on your sweaty hands gripping the door, you missed the soft clicking pair of footsteps until it was too late.

Two strong hands engulfed your body, one sliding around your waist and pulling you against a warm torso, and the other expertly clamping down on your mouth. Your eyes darted back and forth, catching a whirl of raven hair between you and the door. Without your half of the balancing act, the door slammed up against the wall, leaving Ro and the stranger in your apartment facing off.

“May I help you sweetheart?” A sickly sweet and familiar voice rang out, throwing your stalkerish neighbor for a loop. Emily.

You were dragged backward slightly, out of view, forcefully but not violently. A blond wave of hair fell over your shoulder, and vanilla perfume became mixed in with your heavy breaths. Emily, and JJ.

Ro suddenly stepped back into the hallway. ”Who the hell are you? Wait, you were on the news. You were in the FBI.”

“Catching on so quickly,” Emily taunted while revealing her gun from her side, raising it casually. “Step inside, close the door behind you, scream and you won’t make it back out alive,” she instructed, waving the barrel of the gun as she spoke.

He obeyed, if only out of obvious terror. JJ stepped out of the shadows with you in her grasp. Out of angry instinct, he lurched toward you. “Crazy bitch.”

JJ defensively tightened her bicep around your body, moving you behind her. She and Emily moved as one fluid, deadly unit. Sharp, efficiently placed pressure on Ro’s shoulders from Emily made him drop to the floor like a fly, his knees cracking against the floor. The point of JJ’s boot dug into the flesh of his leg, threateningly close to his crotch.

Emily was back to looming over him, hands steady as she clicked the gun against his temple. ”Here’s how this is going to work. We managed to find video footage of you breaking into this apartment, stalking, and harassing, and that’s just the surface—things that we found in seconds. If, and that’s a questionable if you leave here alive, so will we, because if you turn us in, we turn you in, and with all the cameras disabled in this apartment, who are the courts more likely to believe former FBI agents who left peacefully and with high credibility, or you?” Silence. “That’s what I thought. You’ll also be ending your lease within the next 24 hours, and I highly suggest your next place be at least 25 miles from this apartment. Last but not least, apologize.”

You saw him wince at the pressure from the weapon or Emily’s voice as he looked up at you from the ground.

“ I-, I’m sorry! Ah!” He yelled out as Emily knicked the side of his head.

“Do fucking better, and I’m not one to dish out third chances, so make it good.”

You nearly blacked out at the scene unfolding in front of you. His apology played like a distant voiceover in your head; JJ’s hands felt hot against your skin; and you didn’t even start to leave this dazed state until Emily was forcefully leading your now-former neighbor out of your apartment.

Emily guided you toward the back of your apartment while JJ locked it up, not before surveying the hallway twice.

Flicking on a dim light, Emily braced herself against the doorframe as you turned around to face her. “So, “I can totally work late,” was actually Mr. insecure fucking stalker?” She prodded, adding a slight imitation of your voice into her tone.

“He wasn’t a stalker; he was just gross and pushy. He asked me out when he first moved in; I said no, and he never really let it go,” you explained in an attempt to descalate.

Emily scoffed, removing her blazer as she invited herself to sit down on your bed with her hands pressed into her thighs. “Honey, he intercepted you every time you came home, couldn’t take no for an answer, and knew your schedule by heart. Why didn’t you just tell JJ or me? We could’ve handled it.”

You circled around the room, still attempting to process what had happened. “Okay, and by handled, do you mean go fucking insane?” You asked in a raised whisper, tangling your almost-twitching fingers in your hair. “You cannot just pull a gun out from underneath your blazer and hold it to someone’s head while your wife threatens them with credentials she no longer even has!”

Emily stood up quickly, untucking her blouse from her pants with her sharp movements. “And he can’t just monitor your life and push his way into your apartment!” She shot back with fire in her tone. You seemed to have hit a nerve. Your best guess was that wherever this anger was coming from, it also had to do with whatever reason she left the BAU for, something she had yet to reveal to you. “He had no right, and you’re not responsible for his actions. Look at me,” she commanded, tipping your chin toward her gaze with two fingers. “Even if you said yes, he would still behave as he always has, as a creeping coward. I spent my whole career chasing carbon copies of men like him. Nothing will change their sense of entitlement from believing they deserve women who they could never appreciate or understand.” Finishing, her chest rose up and down with emotion as you remained still in her grip.

“Is that why you quit?” You asked, slightly steering the conversation back toward her. “Because of people getting what they didn’t understand or deserve?”

“Yes, I was tired of having to put people I cared about or wanted to care about,” she added, refocusing on you, “in danger and not being able to be the one who served repercussions.”

Feelings you had pushed down since day 1 rose up in your throat. “And have you ever contemplated what you deserve?” you asked as a more relaxed smile curled on her lips.

She nodded as her eyes flickered down your skin. Her forehead glistened with unexpired anger and effort as she swiped a piece of damp hair from it.

“And what’s that?” you asked. Moving your hands backwards, they landed on the dresser, feeling as if the space between you and Emily was growing closer and closer, more intoxicatingly suffocating.

“You.” JJ’s smooth and confident voice filled in the blank for Emily, and you felt your entire body flush with warmth. She had been walking by the door with silent steps and filled in the rest with context. While her calm and mildly seductive reaction to the scene surprised you, it only made Emily grin, curling her fingers to invite the blonde into the room as she shut the door behind her. Emily had seen the way her wife’s gaze soaked in your body the first day you stepped in the door with a bright smile, making her hungrily sink her teeth into her lip. Emily admittedly had quite a similar reaction.

Distracted by JJ’s appearance, you hadn’t noticed Emily’s shift until you felt her body press up behind you and her lips dance across your neck. Removing her gun from her side, you expected her to put it on the nightstand beside you, so you were taken aback when she pressed the edge up against your ribs, leaving you to feel the cool metal through the thin material of your shirt. All the air left your lungs as she slowly dragged it up your skin, her deep red-painted nails leaving a trail of scratches in their wake. The barrel of the gun followed the curve of your chin until she used to tip to guide your gaze up to hers. Trust me, at least for tonight.” She placed the gun on your nightstand with dangerous amusement flashing across her eyes.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled you between her legs, unbuttoning your shirt with nimble fingers until it slipped off your shoulders. Slipping her hands beneath the hem of your skirt, her fingers grazed against the skin of your lower belly, the cold metal of her rings making you tense.

She slowly and seductively removed the rest of your clothes, taking her sweet time to soak in every inch of your body. You followed her lead as she charmingly held out her hand to help you climb up and kneel on the mattress. She followed, settling at the top of the bed. “Come up here; let me taste you.” She rapped your thighs until you were straddled over her body. Her suave confidence and eagerness to aid in your pleasure were new to you and created a confusing knot of feelings in your stomach. Your knuckles turned white with your grip on the headboard, holding yourself up delicately.

Emily wet her lips, curving them into a smile. “Sit means actually sit, love.” Her hands gripped the back of your legs, dragging your throbbing cunt onto her mouth. A satisfied groan left her lips, vibrating through you.

Behind you, JJ’s nonchalance surprised you. In every other environment, she was incredibly overprotective. In this case, both the people she was ever overprotective of were right in front of her, so she was happy to pour a drink, sit back and watch… or at least for a moment.

Through your muffled thoughts brought on by Emily’s lips wrapping around your clit and her hands kneading at the flesh of your thighs, you heard JJ’s glass clink on the table before her hands appeared on your body. You felt the mattress sink beneath you as she climbed up on the bed behind you, cupping your breasts in her hands as her lips trailed along your neck. “If I’m gonna let you fuck my wife, I think it’s only appropriate that I get something as well, don’t you, doll?” She murmured, her breath leaving a trail of warmth along your skin, until she found your mouth, sinking her teeth into your bottom lip. A soft whine escaped as she pulled away, taking her touch with her, and sat down next to you.

Your knuckles grew white against the headboard as Emily’s tongue curled against the walls of your tongue, drawing you closer and closer to a shattering orgasm. JJ, next to you was only contributing to your arousal as she undressed herself and raked her long, blond hair out of her face with a ravenous look. Your body tensed on quivering thighs resting on either side of Emily’s head as she pulled your cunt down in her mouth, flattening her tongue against your sensitive nerve. A stew of moans and expletives fell from your lips as you coated her tongue, and she looked up with a slick, lopped grin as if she had just won a trophy.

Without more than half a breath, she was up and directing you between JJ’s legs, driven by lust-induced vigor. “Eat her out,” she commanded with a soft air of confidence.

Focused on pleasuring JJ, you only caught a blur of Emily in your peripheral vision, slipping out of black work pants and letting her belt hit the ground. Arched between JJ’s legs, she secured her feet over your shoulders, trapping your head between toned thighs as you delved into her cunt. The blonde’s head sank back with a guttural moan as you circled and sucked at her clit.

You stuttered as Emily caught you off guard, dragging her fingers down your spine until she squeezed your ass. JJ’s hands found their way into your hair, guiding your back down between her legs with a sickly soft tone, but you didn’t miss the smirk shot at Emily over her head. “Focus baby, okay? Don’t worry about her.”

You listened, far into the hazy trance of the women surrounding you. As your tongue roamed JJ’s pussy you could feel Emily’s grasp on your hips, positioning them to her likely, and then what came as a startle from your lack of awareness was the silicon texture of her thick strap gently teasing your entrance as you brought her wife closer and closer to an orgasm.

She pistoned the faux-cock inside of you, and you choked out a gasp that made JJ’s hips stutter as she arched her back off the mattress. “Fuck, almost there, doll, let me come on your tongue.” Her words slowly morphed into pants as she reached her climax, with a heaving chest and a tight grip on your hair. Her legs relaxed on your shoulder as Emily continued thrusting into you, the slight ridges of her strap against your walls leaving you gripping at JJ with desperation. JJ found your hands. Running her thumbs across your knuckles with soft praise. “Come for daddy, baby,” she mumbled into her forward before leaning up into Emily’s brief breathless kiss. Your three sheening bodies were intertwined in various ways. The room was filled with obscene noises and sounds from the lingering exhaustion of pleasure.

With close attention, JJ caught on when you were close, using two fingers to drag your chin upwards, forcing you to look her in the eye as your juices coated Emily’s cock. As you came, Emily’s hand wrapped lightly around your throat, adding an extra starry haze to your orgasm. You collapsed in a euphoric state on JJ’s lap. She chuckled at your fucked-out state, running her hands through your hair. Emily wore a similar smile of satisfaction as she left a trail of light kisses down the back of your legs. She was the one to get up and go to the bathroom, preparing to help the three of you clean up and collapse back onto your queen-sized bed in a dreamlike sleep.

#jennifer jareau x reader #wlw smut #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jemily

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entertext · 2 days

Text

HGSN Vol. 5 Special Chapter

[Text only translation. Rough translation by me.]

[In the school library (~ch. 23), 'Hikaru' has a small pile of books in front of him and is reading one titled "The Princess and the Monster"]

Yoshiki: Lately you've been...reading picture books and fairy tales, huh.

Hikaru: Oh, this?

Hikaru: Well, like, I don't really understand humans, so I'm studying

Hikaru: Picture books are the easiest to understand.

Yoshiki: (Emotional education, huh?...)

Yoshiki: I hate that story

Hikaru: Why?

Yoshiki: A man-eating monster falls in love with a princess and after it repents for this and that, they're married...it's all too convenient

Yoshiki: *mutters darkly* From the monster's point of view, it would have been more of a happy ending if the princess started eating people together with it. In the first place, having the monster "fall in love"?...if the monster reproduces through parthogenesis, it might not even have a concept like that.

Yoshiki: *mutters darkly* And the preconcieved notion that living in a castle, wearing clothes, and eating cake is happiness...

Yoshiki: *mutters darkly* Anyway, it's completely anthropocentric and arrogant. I hate it as much as I hate when they dub over dogs on animal TV shows.

[Background shows a TV screen with a dog in its owner's arms captioned "I love my owner, woof! ♡" ]

Hikaru: ...

Hikaru: You talked so much it's little creepy, hahaha! How much do you hate it?!!

Yoshiki: ...Shut up

Hikaru: But it's true that it's from a human point of view, yeah. That's why its good.

Hikaru: Learning about something that's different from myself is interesting.

Hikaru: Even if I don't understand it, its still interesting

Yoshiki: (But...before, thinking about 'Hikaru')

(Yoshiki: I'll just have to teach him)

Yoshiki: (I also thought that I just had to teach him)

Yoshiki: (I convinced myself he was just immature...)

Yoshiki: (And tried fit him into a human value system)

Yoshiki: (I'm the one who's arrogant...)

Yoshiki: (It became clear during the incident with Asako)

Yoshiki: (but 'Hikaru' isn't a human, no matter what...)

Hikaru: Hahaha!

Hikaru: This scene is hilarious!

Princess: Why, humans aren't tasty at all!

Princess: This chicken is far more delicious!

Hikaru: Hahaha! That depends on your taste, doesn't it?

Yoshiki: (I have no idea what's so funny)

Hikaru: But you know...this monster figured out that it could go without eating humans. I think that kind of thing's important.

Hikaru: On the inside, maybe it wanted to eat humans

Hikaru: But it didn't.

Hikaru: I think that's really nice.

Yoshiki: But I think the princess should have tried to learn more about the monster.

Yoshiki: Not make the monster into a human

Yoshiki: But actually learn where they were different and what they had in common.

Hikaru: Yeah, yeah

Hikaru: That's why I want to learn about humans.

Yoshiki: Yeah.

Yoshiki: I need to learn more about you, too...

#hikaru ga shinda natsu #the summer hikaru died #hgsn spoilers

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daughter-of-sapph0 · 2 days

Text

I keep seeing terfs with "dysphoric" in their bio, and I feel like fucking Inigo Montoya. like, do they actually know what that word means?

like, the way they seem to use it makes me think that it's just a catch all for "being female sucks and it's so hard. because of periods and misogyny. and the evil tranny faggot troons who are invading the west and stealing the blood from our children. I am personally the victim of every situation I am in. I once told someone to kill themselves and they told me "no fuck off". how rude. I'm so oppressed."

like, 99% of their problems are completely made up. they side with nazis and fascists and the far right on almost every issue. they all hate each other almost as much as they hate trannies. they don't have any irl friends because everyone who knows them apsolutely despises their horrid personality. it's a death cult on the brink of collapse. the alt right hates them because they're women. actual feminists hate them for being sexist as hell. the only thing they have going for them is that a washed up children's book author and holocaust denier is the figurehead of their movement.

but on the other hand, there's a decent amount of terfs who are very clearly closet trans men, and I'm pretty sure they don't know it. like, especially the ones who have been groomed into thinking that violently hating your body to the point of serious depression is something that's normal for every single women to experience. cuz holy shit, if you think being a woman is just pure suffering, there may be something wrong on your end.

and I sorta feel bad for a lot of them. because they're in a death cult. they're so deep in this hateful ideology, so far down the pipeline, that they would rather suffer for the rest of their lives and try to make other people's lives worse, because the alternative is transitioning and that would be going against what they've been groomed to believe.

when I say that radical feminism is a death cult, I genuinely mean it. it creates a bunch of depressed suicidal shut ins who spend all their time and energy in their echo chambers online trying to make other people (trans people in particular) feel just as depressed and suicidal as they feel.

I'm not even trying to be like "transitioning would have saved him" or anything. but if these people just logged off, talked to actual human beings, and maybe had someone explain to them that sending suicide bait to strangers online 24/7 is not a healthy way to live and told them that they're being groomed... idk maybe they'd be able to escape the nightmare they live in.

hating being a woman is a good sign that you're not a woman. hating being a man is a good sign that you're not a man. you do not need anyone's permission to be yourself. live your own life, regardless of what other people say.

#dostxt

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thestoryofusstan · 13 hours

Text

RISK PART II

pairing: mafia!harry styles x singer!reader

summary: Harry is in town for some.. less than legal business, and you're a local singer trying to get your foot in the door, and also planning your wedding. And maybe Harry is a little too interested in you.

warnings: cursing, mentions of death, i think that’s it??

At the end of the show, the band disappeared from the stage, and Niall and Harry busied themselves at the bar.

Jodie was the first one to come out.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted Niall with a grin, going up to press their lips together. “Hey, H. Enjoy the show?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “You guys were.. good. Didn’t know you could sing.”

“Oh, trust me, neither did I. It was Y/N’s idea to get me to do it. She’s been singing since she could talk. She’s pretty fucking good, too.”

“Yeah, first time we met Jodie wanted her to do karaoke and she kept saying she ‘wasn’t good’. Then fuckin’ busted out some Taylor Swift song like it was nothing. Speaking of, where is she?”

“Oh, she’s still in the back. She said she’d be out in a minute, she just needed a sec.”

Niall’s brows furrowed, “She good?”

“I think so. She didn’t seem off. But I think she knows Connor didn’t show and y’know how she gets.”

Niall’s eyes rolled at the mention of his friend’s fiancé.

“You don’t seem to like him much,” Harry commented.

“I don’t.”

“Why’s he so bad?”

“He’s jus’ an asshole to her sometimes. And usually, Y/N’s the first person to bite your head off about being a bitch to her. But whenever Connor does it, she just…”

Jodie finished for him, “She lets him. Plus, he’s super controlling. He wants her to quit the band once they get married so she can, like, be a housewife. And that’s literally her worst nightmare, he just doesn’t give a shit.”

“Yeah,” Niall nodded. “And the reason we moved in with them is ‘cause a few years ago—“

“Ni. Shut up. Y/N would be pissed if she found out we told someone. It’s bad enough as is.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Harry eyed them suspiciously, “What’d he do to her?”

“.. If Y/N wants to tell you, she will. But don’t bring it up or push it,” Jodie explained. “She’s normally pretty… unbothered, I guess. But she just.. is sensitive sometimes. And do not, under any circumstances, point out Connor not showing up tonight whenever she gets here.”

“Yeah, so switch the conversation. She’s comin’ over,” Niall rushed out.

“Uh… so, what’d you think about the show!” Jodie exclaimed, overly loud as you appeared behind her, grabbing her shoulders.

“Hello my favorite slut,” you greet Jodie.

“Aw, hello, my whore.”

You grin at her.

“What about me?” Niall pouted.

“You’re our favorite whore. But only for Jodie,” you shrug. Niall smiles as if he actually cares.

“Uh.. Y/N, this is Harry. Harry, Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah. We, uh.. met this morning. He scared the shit out of me.”

Harry gave a half smile and raised his brows.

Niall laughed, “‘Course he did. He’s nice, I promise. He doesn’t bite.”

“.. I’d hope not?”

“It was a joke, asshole.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t funny. Asshole,” you mock him.

You can see Harry laughing out of the corner of your eye and it makes you smile, just a bit.

Harry takes a bite of the food they’d apparently ordered, “Who writes them?”

“What?” you ask, hoisting yourself up into the barstool next to him. You ask the bartender for a beer.

“The songs. Who writes them.”

“Oh,” you nod. Hesitate. He notices. Watches.

“Well, that answer definitely clears things up.”

“No. Sorry— I… I write them.”

“She just gets embarrassed ‘cause she thinks they suck,” Niall interrupts your awkward conversation.

“Which they don’t,” Jodie also interrupts.

You roll your eyes at them, “Thank you, peanut gallery.”

“So, what’re they all about?”

You were, honestly, surprised he was even looking in your direction. Whenever a stranger talked to him, he seemed exceptionally uninterested. When you talked, he was practically staring into your soul.

“Uh.. just… life, I guess?” you shrug with a laugh. You didn’t exactly wanna specify the fact that half of the breakup songs were about the man you were about to marry, and they were all recently written.

He shrugs, and it seems like answer enough for him. For now. It’s enough to hold him over until he gets curious again.

The bartender hands you the beer, and you give a grateful smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a beer girl.”

“Yeah, well… I’m full of surprises.”

You cringe as you say it.

“That was not as cool as you thought it was,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I realized as I said it.”

He opens his mouth, but is cut off by your phone ringing loudly on the bar top.

“Sorry,” you give an apologetic smile as you flip your phone over. You contemplate smashing your head against the bar as you read the contact information.

Connor❤️

“Of fucking course,” you roll your eyes, swiping to answer the call, “gimme a sec.” You give Niall and Jodie a signal before walking towards the front of the bar. You step outside as you speak, “Hello?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“I told you, I’m at a gig. You said you were coming. Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I don’t wanna go to another dumb gig.”

“I— first of all, that’s rude. Don’t speak to me like that. Second of all, do you think I want to sit around and watch you compete fucking video games? No. But I do.”

“I don’t care—“

“Yeah, clearly.”

“You just need to be home soon.”

You scoff, “Yeah, okay, dad. No. I’m with Jodie and Ni and their friend. You’ll be fine at home without me. Or— and this is just a thought, so hear me out — you could’ve shown up and hung out with us.”

“You’re always at some stupid gig! When do we ever spend time together?”

You sigh, “I try to spend time with you, babe. You’re always on your phone or playing games. You always say you wanna spend time with me when I have a gig, but when we’re both free.. you wanna be anywhere but around me.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Okay, but that’s what it feels like. And.. I mean, it hurts my feelings. We’re getting married, and you can’t even be in a room with me for ten minutes?”

“That isn’t true—“

“It is, though. And yeah, maybe some of it is my fault. I do have a lot of gigs, but we’re finally getting noticed! It’s exciting, and I— I wanna share that with you, but you don’t really care.”

“You’re making this into something bigger than it needs to be.”

“Then stop fucking calling me when you skip my gigs and interrogate me!” you snap. “Just— don’t fucking call me, or talk to me, unless you want to do it without belittling and invalidating me. Bye.”

You scoffed as you hung up. You have to repeat your mantra to yourself as you inhale. I love him, I love him. We’re getting married. He’s just moody sometimes.

You walked back up to the bar, feeling a lot better than you had before. Jodie grinned as you approached, wrapping an arm around you.

“Hey, sexy! Where’d you run off to?” she asked.

“Asshole of the Month called,” you rolled your eyes.

“Remind me why we’re marrying him if we call him Asshole of the Month?” Niall asked.

“Okay, first of all, we aren’t marrying him. I am. Second of all.. shut up. He’s sweet most of the time.”

Jodie gave you a deadpan look.

“… Sometimes.”

…

“Okay, barely. But when we’re alone, he’s sweet, I swear! He’s just moody sometimes.”

Jodie shrugged, “We’re not judging you, babe. Just want you to be careful. We don’t want another—“ her eyes flicked to Harry, “uh… situation.. to happen, y’know?”

You look to him as well, before looking back again Jodie, “I know, and I appreciate it. But seriously, I can handle myself. I promise.”

“M’kay. Now, go sit down and get shitfaced!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” you jokingly salute her before resuming your position next to Harry.

“She hath returned,” he joked.

“I hath,” you grin before wincing.

“That was awful.”

“I’m aware. Don’t talk about it.”

“Never even happened,” he grinned.

“See? I knew I liked you,” you smiled, turning to the bartender, “can we get a round of shots, please? Thank you!”

“Phone call that bad, huh?”

“No,” you respond quickly. Too quickly. He doesn’t believe you, and it’s obvious. “No,” you repeat. “It’s just… he gets mad over things that aren’t even happening, and won’t let me explain myself. It’s just.. annoying.”

“That sounds annoying. You should punch him.”

You laugh at the absurdity of his words, “What? No. No! What? No.”

He shrugs, “Your loss.”

“… Are you— should I call the police?”

“I’m joking, babe, relax.”

“… You aren’t very.. how do I say.. good at it.”

“Gee, thanks,” he rolls his eyes.

“You just told me to punch my fiancé!” you exclaim.

He just grins at you, taking a sip of his drink. There’s a lull in the conversation, but it isn’t awkward.

“What’s the tattoo for?” he suddenly asks.

“Hm?” you hum, turning your gaze back to him.

“The tattoo. On your wrist.”

You glance down. “Oh. It’s for my older brother. It’s.. uh.. his birthday in Roman numerals.”

“.. Why the angel wings?”

You hesitate. You debate whether you wanna make it awkward.

“I mean… I’d assume it’s obvious, but.. he died. A few years ago. I was seventeen.”

“.. Oh.”

You fold your lips into a line and glance away, “Yep.”

The silence is awkward now.

“.. The weather is crazy—“

“Yeah! I mean—“

When the night came to an end, you and Jodie clambered into the Uber driver’s car. Niall and Harry, however, hovered outside.

“Hey,” Niall said, grabbing Harry’s arm to prevent him from walking away.

Harry turned, a confused look on his face.

“I just.. wanna say thank you.”

“… For?”

“What’d you think I was gonna do?” Harry laughed, “Threaten her with a gun?”

Niall sighed, “For being nice to Y/N tonight. She gets.. really upset when Connor doesn’t show, and she normally just ends up leaving straight after. Bur.. she seemed like she was having a nice time with you. So.. thanks.”

“I mean… yeah. You’re not exactly nice. So.. thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah. Sure. She’s.. sweet.”

“Yeah. Which is surprising, ‘cause—“ Niall stops, like he wasn’t supposed to say that.

“.. It’s surprising because what?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” he rushes out. “I just.. Look, I don’t wanna say anything, because she hates when people know, but.. she’s just been dealt a shitty hand in life. Like… your life, plus my life.. hers is still probably shittier.”

“Ni, what the fuck happened to her brother?” Harry asks.

“I.. how do you—“

“You told me, dipshit. And she has a tattoo for him.”

“.. Right,” he nods. “Forgot about that. I.. H, seriously, I can’t say. She hates when people know about.. the shit that’s happened. Like. Hates it.”

“Why? It can’t be that bad—“

“The same way you hate people being sympathetic, she hates pity. She doesn’t want people to be nice out of pity. She doesn’t want to get gigs out of pity. Seriously, I got her ice cream on her brother’s birthday and I almost died. She’s scary.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “She’s, like, the nicest person on Earth.”

“Until she’s mad! Seriously, wait ‘til you hear her and Connor fighting. She’s, like, female Gordon Ramsey.”

“.. What the f—“

“‘Ey, Ni, babe—“ Jodie shouts from inside the car. “Get in the fucking Uber before we ditch your asses!”

“Jodie!” you shriek with laughter. “Be nice!”

“Someone’s gonna call the fuckin’ cops! They look like they’re plotting murder!”

You tilt your head as you stare at them. “Oh.. yeah, nope, I see it. Get in the car, fuckers!”

When the Uber dropped the four of you off, Harry went to the guest bedroom and pulls out his laptop.

Would Niall kill him for what he was about to do? Probably. Was it a huge invasion of your privacy? Yes. Did he care? …. Unclear.

He opened up google and typed into the search bar.

Y/N L/N Brother.

God, Niall was gonna kill him if he found out about this.

a/n: sorry if this sucks i have a migraine & the whole thing deleted. so.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry imagine #harry oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #styles #x reader #mafia!harry styles #mafiarry #mafia harry styles #mafia harry #mafia au #singer!reader

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thefourchimes · 20 hours

Text

Encanto Dashboard Simulator

haha guess who just decided to try something completely unhinged in an attempt to be funny and is probably failing miserably at it?

#im trying my best #this will probably crash and burn but hey at least i tried right #say hello to an encanto dashboard simulator #the movie but in tumblr lmao #or rather this is a day before the movie #also i think i fumbled on some of the characterizations...im sorry pls go easy on me ahahsfiuhasf #oh and dont question too much about time periods because i have no idea either #i kept it as vague as possible lmao

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🕯 encanto-updates May 20

Antonio Madrigal, the youngest member of the magical Madrigal family, will be having his 5th birthday and gift ceremony tomorrow!

The ceremony and celebration will be happening at Casita by 7 in the evening!

#madrigal ceremonies #the madrigals #madrigal family #antonio madrigal #the encanto

1,398 notes

🔁👀 hidden-in-plain-sight reblogged farmingwoes May 20

🏯 probablymagicalplaces Follow May 20

does anyone have any theories on what the youngest madrigal's gift will be?

🥣 magic-soup Follow May 20

maybe something similar to his siblings?? dolores has superhearing and camilo has shapeshifting. what could be a possible gift like those?

or maybe like his mom! something closer to nature, maybe

🌾 farmingwoes Follow May 20

as long as it isn't like his mother's gift, pretty much anything is good

🔇 shhhhquiet May 20

hm.

👀 hidden-in-plain-sight May 20

hey man @farmingwoes u really shouldnt be saying things like this, u know? i mean, what if a madrigal sees it? u'd be screwed!

🌾 farmingwoes Follow May 20

as if the family would check this hellsite

👀 hidden-in-plain-sight May 20

u never know tho...they could literally be reading this right now

#theres always a chance ur words will come back to bite u #:]

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🙃 aaaaaaaaa May 20 • Liked by nothingswrongimtotallyfine

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

#screams #more screaming

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🔁💃 his-shine reblogged her-sun May 20

🎶 her-sun Follow May 20

@his-shine Mi vida, I have a cup of coffee with your name on it.

💃 his-shine Follow May 20

You are a lifesaver.

#gracias #i really appreciate it #<3

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🧍‍♂️ listentomeimserious Follow May 20 • Because you follow #the madrigals

Finally, after three whole months of researching and writing, I have done it.

Here, in all its glory, is my analysis on why the Madrigals are a cult, complete with sources, pictures, and pure undeniable proof to drill the point home and shut the doubters up.

Let's begin.

` Keep Reading

#the madrigals #encanto #this took me so long to gather and write #but i have finally done it #here is your proof!! #the madrigals are a cult!!!

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🔁🪓 please-take-a-break reblogged need-a-break May 20

🪓 please-take-a-break Follow May 20

I did not expect that tree to fall down the way it did.

🔪 need-a-break Follow May 20

Ay...come here, mi amor.

#eheh...lo siento

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🔁🫠 nothingswrongimtotallyfine reblogged lovercorn May 20

👊 gotintoafistfightanddidntdie Follow May 20

there's a donkey munching hay outside my house again...

🌽 lovercorn Follow May 20

op, are you okay...did you get enough sleep

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🧶 wondrous-crafts May 20

⚫ Anonymous asked: any new projects you made recently? will you share them?

Oh! Well, I do have some things I created in the past few weeks. A stuff toy and some embroidered items ready for events...

Not sure yet if I'll share them but we can see how that goes!

#got a couple things prepared for my family #but we'll have to see if i'll share them hahaha #yeah

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🔁🐀 iaminyourwalls reblogged jumpedbyacapybara May 20 • They're back!

🤕 jumpedbyacapybara Follow May 20

sure hope tomorrow won't be a disaster in the making

#knock knock knock #knock on wood

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dira333 · 2 days

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Dira dear darling

Could i please request a plotbunny with Matsukawa and jealous reader? Also, here's a number - 7. Idek what you need it for but i'm really looking forward to whatever you cook up!!

Once again, thank u so much for sharing your work with us!! Stay hydrated and take frequent breaks!!! 💫💜❤️✨️🩷💙💚

I don't like writing jealous people, so I took some creative liberties.

Prompt Nr. 7: Lost my gloves, you give me one

"I can't believe it," you gasp, stepping out of the house. "Going behind my back while I'm getting ready?"

Issei has the decency to look guilty, but the furball in his arms doesn't seem to care.

"Look, she was being loud," he starts and the cat in his arms makes sure you know what he means when she all but yells in your face.

"I know, Issei, and now you're covered in red fur."

"It suits your dress," he tries, but you just shake your head at him, softly pinching his ear.

"Come here," Issei draws you in as you pretend to stalk away.

"No," you moan, "You don't love me anymore."

"I love you a lot," he points out, "It's the cat that doesn't love you."

"Don't be a meanie," you growl but let him catch up, snuggling into his side. "I'm just a dog person, okay?"

"You're not a dog person and I still love you," he points out, leaning in to bite your nose.

"Ugh, your hands are cold," you groan when he takes your face, trying to kiss you.

"Sorry," he whispers against your lips, "Lost my gloves."

"You." Kiss. "Can." Kiss. "Have." Kiss. "One." Kiss. "Of." Kiss. "Mine."

Issei stops, face so close you're probably going cross-eyed trying to look at him. "Are you sure? Normally it's my job to give you a glove."

"Ah, I'm feeling manly today."

"I'm so going to regret this," you tell Issei as you put his present on the table. "Promise you're still going to love me after opening this box."

"Babe, you're scaring me. Did you get me and Makki matching costumes or what?"

"No, and don't ever mention that idea again."

He grins, leaning in to peck your lips before pulling back to look at his present.

"But seriously. Why is your present so big? Mine's so small!" He points at the little velvet box that's now sitting on the table, the process of handing it over almost making you forget your present for him.

"Shut up," you growl, "you know it's not that small."

"That's what she said," he grins, taking off the top of the box.

All jokes are forgotten at the sight.

It's not a kitten, even though you wanted to get him one. But Mochi, the five-year-old tabby at the shelter, had looked up at you with such sweet eyes you just couldn't walk past her.

"You got me a cat?" He breathes out, eyes turning a little glassy.

"I got you a cat," you confirm. "But you gotta feed her, okay? I'm already in charge of killing all our plants."

He pulls you in, kisses you feverishly, and turns back to Mochi who's content in her box, purring as she looks up at the two of you.

"You got me a cat." He repeats. And in those five words, you can hear that this means a lot more than you had originally thought.

Or maybe it means exactly the same.

#plotbunny game #dira.asks #ask games #matsukawa issei #mattsun #mattsun x reader #matsukawa x reader #mattsun fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu

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yellowhearther0 · 1 year

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sits down. whatever

#sagittarius.txt #negative #last thing on this i doont need to go on abt this forever sorry #im sad and scared and stressed andim worried im being annoying bc im just drowning in this bottomless pit of feelings im trying to avoid #instead of trying to do anything #and i know im not being annoying i know im allowed to talk about my shit but god.#i just wanna cry i dont want to do these stupid essays but i have to because if i dont then my mom will actually be pissed #and its like. shes already annoyed enough! im just fucking surprised she hasnt hit me yet #disregard that tho its been years since she has #anyways #its like #i cannot sit here and just expect things to change by doing nothing but be miserable but i just feel so overwhelmed and shitty and bad #and i could go on and on but no one wants to hear about that and i dont want to hear about that especially when i already know what im #doing wrong. i just. fucking hell #maybe i just need to shut up. who knows at this point

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ipushedthewrongbutton · 2 months

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Imma do this final vent and then I’ll shut up about it.

This was a dumb move, from every possible perspective.

In the og goodbye video, they really made it sound like they were doing the streaming service because they wanted to go bigger, make cooler videos, really see what they could do and let their creative vision take the lead.

Growing as an artist is what you do when you Already Have The Money To Do So. You don’t tell your audience “give me money and then I will use to it to make cooler bigger things”. That’s not a streaming service, that’s a kickstarter.

They didn’t have the numbers to pull a streaming service off either. “We think we’re ready for television quality content” no you don’t. Sorry, no you do not. Television quality content means 30-50 crew per project, means at least 4-5 production being worked on at the same time, and at least 4-5 productions being broadcast at the same time. Watcher has maybe 2 series they upload simultaneously and they have 25 employees TOTAL. Not even CLOSE to tv levels of content, who the fuck do you think you are???

Did they really think all 3 million of their subscribers were going to follow them on this? Including kids, whose spending is dependent on their parents? Including the casuals, who only subscribed for the occasional video? Including people for whom $6 dollars on another streaming service just isn’t an option? Why DIDN’T they poll this, was this being a surprise really that important??

AND why would you completely cut off another revenue? Even if YouTube is restrictive, it’s still another source of income. Cutting that off completely is… bold.

Especially since in the apology, they let it slip that no, actually, it’s because Watcher is on the brink of having to close up shop because they’re not making enough money with just the patreon, the merch sales, the ad reads, etc.

So… one of those is a lie. Or at least part of the truth.

But let’s assume they are in financial trouble, then this was still the dumbest they could’ve done.

Welcome to the entertainment industry where we follow 1 giant fucking rule: Kill Your Darlings.

Fellas, pals, amigos, bros, dudes. If your projects spend more than what they make, it’s time to downsize. Not upscale. Cut the shit that’s spending the most money, start concentrating on how you can conserve without having to fire your crew. Put the projects where you have to fly out and buy new stuff all the time on the back burner, you can get back to them once you actually have the money for them. Work with what you already have. You have a MASSIVE studio space, fuckin use it. You HAVE sets, you HAVE props, you HAVE talent and you have ideas. Start workshopping all the crazy and shit ideas you thought weren’t gonna work and start thinking how you could make them work with the lowest possible budget you can have. Your audience is there, they’ll watch whatever you throw at them. Now is the time to go crazy and see what sticks. You HAVE viewership. Collab. CONSTANTLY. Get it the fuck out there that you exist. A lot of people had no idea a patreon existed, mention it ALL THE TIME. To the point that it becomes annoying. Do it!

If your studio is becoming too expensive, get rid of it. Sorry, kill your darlings. Move some shit around in Steven Lim’s tesla garage, put up some green screens, this is where you work now until you can afford a studio in LA again, you dipshits. Editors can work from home, sound designers can work from home, writers and researchers can work from home, meetings can happen in someone’s kitchen or living room.

And finally: be transparent. Be honest to your audience and communicate. “We’re sorry to put Ghost Files on hiatus, however we can no longer justify the cost of traveling to locations.” The majority of your audience will understand and show patience. The part of your audience that matters will wait and enjoy your other wacky shit in the meantime. Hell, they might spontaneously start their own kickstarter because those who can, will want to support you financially, if you’re just hONEST WITH THEM.

As a business, you constantly have to choose between your financial stability and that of your employees, your vision and the future of your company and what you Want to do with it, and your integrity, the trust between you and your audience. (Especially that last one, businesses can’t pretend they don’t have a relationship with their audience, that’s not how business works, guys.)

When you’re in financial straits, one of those has to go. Watcher chose the latter, they should’ve picked the middle. Their grand television quality ideas can fucking wait, if money is a problem.

Look, I’m an artist too. I had a vision too. But it was either my creative vision or being able to afford food and rent. Creativity can wait, creativity will always be there once I can support it. Living comes ALWAYS first. Asking my audience to fund my huge artistic dreams though, with only the promise of something cool, NEVER even crossed my fucking mind. That’s what donations are for, that’s what the patreon is for.

They apologised. And good. But this was a dumb decision from the goddamn start. There were like 500 steps in between and they skipped all of it. And for what? For money? For grand ideas? For greed or for hubris? How many of their original subscribers are actually gonna come back? How much money did they lose with this stunt? If they really are in financial trouble, this MASSIVE risk -which is what it has always been- might just be their downfall. And it’d be 100% their own fucking fault.

#Watcher #Ok that’s ACTUALLY the last time i talk about this i need to move on #I dunno why this played in my mind so much #No i do know: it was boredom #But even as an outsider to whole streaming service just Felt Gross #And as someone who’s worked in the entertainment industry… i just.. SAW all the red flags #And it’s BAFFLING none of the so-called professionals at watcher entertainment stopped this #Or maybe that’s the hubris of the ceo’s talking who tf knows at this point #Anyway all of this was playing in my mind and i had to type it out to get my brain to hopefully shut up #Imma pirate some fucking tv shows now #If paying for it isn’t owning it then pirating isn’t stealing #Long post #like LONG-ASS FUCKIN POST

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