#((i wonder who the reporter is hmm :eyes:))

[strawberrycamel]

bro: hey you wanna finish watching the last 8 episodes of stone ocean

me: yeah sure

*4 hours later*

me: *is irreparably changed*

[pomefioredove]

Omg hiii! I saw that your requests were open again! Please take your time and prioritize your rest, and as always your writing is such a delight to read! I always look forward to your posts! 💖💖💖

That being said, can you please write for a Yuu/reader that has a love for painting (but is shy about showcasing their skill) , and was absolutely taken by Vil's beauty even before they met him? Of course they didn't know that he was a famous actor at first. What if Vil one day finds their sketches and paintings of him after months of knowing him? (hmm preferably after the events of book 6..? 👀)

SO CUTE!!! kicking my legs back and forth at this anonnn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the picture of vil schoenheit

type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

How were you supposed to know?

It's not like Crowley had given you a guide on Night Raven College or its students (though, wouldn't that have been nice?)

I mean, you had to reminded of Trey's last name not two weeks ago. How were you supposed to know who Vil Schoenheit is?

You'd only seem him at a distance. Passed him by in the halls while he scolded some poor first year. He even looked beautiful when he was angry.

He was just made to be painted.

You didn't show your friends the art. You didn't need to give Ace another reason to tease you, and being a stalker would've really been the cherry on top of your weirdness sundae.

Besides, it was just drawing. Practice! Sketches from a distance, doodles done in the margins of your notes, watercolors and paintings from memory...

It felt familiar. This man, this stranger, someone you hadn't even spoken to, made you feel a little closer to home.

.

"Really, you should have some sort of organizational system,"

Vil leafs through pages of alchemy reports and history of magic homework. "Might I suggest a recycling bin?"

You smile. It's not often that your friend- Vil Schoenheit, that is- has a day off. But today is Saturday, and your room is in desperate need of his touch.

"This is... chaotic," he says, brushing a clump of Grim fur off his shoulder. "And you live like this?"

You shrug. "I try,"

"Well, try no more. We'll have this done before dinner,"

His commitment is touching. Millions of screeching fangirls would give anything just to spend five minutes with Vil, and here he is, tidying your room for you.

It's almost cute. He's humming to himself, hair tied back in a ponytail, in one of your shirts (his are too nice to get dirty), sweeping Grim fur out from under your bed.

"Rook and Epel couldn't make it?" you ask, pretending not to care that it's just the two of you.

"I told them not to bother,"

"Oh?"

Vil tsks. "They would get in the way. We're much more efficient on our own- we work well together, after all,"

That's something he'd said before. You'd always wondered what it meant.

"Right,"

You switch places, going to strip your bed of its sheets for washing while Vil tidies your desk.

Off go the pillow cases, the comforter, the blankets. You're wrestling with your mattress when you notice that he hasn't moved in a while.

He's looking through some of the papers from within the bowels of your desk, smiling to himself, a finger held to his perfect lips.

"What?"

"Hm?" he hums, but he doesn't look at you. "Oh, just... admiring your work. You have quite an eye for detail, have I ever told you that?"

He's being weird. You let go of your bundle of bedding and look at what he's holding, but it's just your sketchbook.

Oh. Oh, no. It's your sketchbook.

"OH! Um, wait-" you say, rushing to his side. "Don't- don't look!"

Vil smirks, and he holds the art over your head. "How unfair. The muse should always be the first to see, you know,"

Damn his height and perfect, slender arms!!! Your eyes widen. "It's not what it looks like! I didn't know you when I did those!"

"Yes, I saw the dates. You could make a career out of admiring me, you know~" he chuckles. "I'd pay for these. I'm sure Rook would like a few, as well."

You're practically melting with embarrassment. "Come on- give it back!"

Seeing your pathetic, embarrassed whining, Vil relents, handing you the sketchbook with an eye-roll.

"What are you ashamed of? They're fine pieces,"

"It's not that," you clutch the book to your chest. "It's just- uh- weird, isn't it?"

Vil scoffs. "I'm weird?"

"NO! I meant- I didn't even know you, and I drew you almost every day- that isn't... strange?"

He takes a moment to study you, your body language, the embarrassed look on your face. From head to toe. And then he smiles, warmly.

"I am in a dorm with Rook. There are very, very few things that I find strange now. You admire me- I'm flattered,"

He gingerly takes sketchbook out of your arms and opens it again. "Not to mention, you have an artistic eye that any director would kill for."

You stand there, a little dumbfounded, but mostly very, very grateful that he's your friend, and that you can laugh about this together.

"I'm... well... thank you," you finally say.

Vil smirks, and pinches your cheek. "You're precious. Now, back to work. I want this room over with. These paintings won't frame themselves, will they?"

[irisintheafterglow]

Can I request a racer!bakugo showing off his two most precious things after winning a big race, the trophy and his girl pleaseee?

THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE LOVE LOVE <33 also i can't find it but this is definitely inspired by that one bakugo fic where he's doing a vogue interview about the things he can't leave the house or live without (if anyone knows the link for it please please let me know because it's one of my all-time favorites)

"oh, look! it's bakugo! hey, man!"

"the hell are you doing outside my house?" the interviewer laughs nervously behind the camera, but your boyfriend's scowl doesn't move. it's a wonder that he's still viewed positively in the public eye despite his brash personality. you pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers and avert your eyes from the second-floor window, sending another prayer begging for him to behave. the interview took place in his own home, for crying out loud. shouldn't he be the most comfortable in his safest space?

the answer is, unfortunately, no.

"i'm uh, here for your '73 questions' interview with vogue. d'you mind if i step inside with you?" he grunts reluctantly in response, swinging the front door open unceremoniously. you pity the poor guy who had to follow your husband around and chuck questions at him like armed grenades; there was always a chance that he would blow up. "so, where were you coming from?"

"grocery store. you want a drink?" good. at least he remembers his manners. "we got water, juice...i ain't giving you alcohol. i don't even know who the hell you are." never mind.

you spend the next 12-something minutes following their one-sided conversation around the house, careful to stay out of sight and silently begging your boyfriend to at least act a little warmer. the only time he does open up, much to the delight of fans, is when he's talking about you.

"'the things most precious to me?' i don't fuckin' know," you can hear him say plainly. you'd resigned to your shared bedroom to finish up some work when you heard the telltale calls of babe, c'mere! babe. babe. babe! from downstairs. with a huff, you set down your pen and make your way into the living room, where you see him holding his latest first-place trophy. it shines under the afternoon sun coming through the backyard windows. the camera pans to you in surprise and you thank your earlier self for wearing something other than pajamas.

"babe, c'mere," he insists and you roll your eyes in exasperation. his arm slips around your waist and you're suddenly hyperaware of the camera that's going to post your image to millions of people. "alright, nerd, you asked me what i wanna show off? they're right here," he boasts proudly and your face starts to heat up. "got my badass lover, my big-ass trophy, and i don't need anything else," he says with unexpected tenderness. "you got that?"

"y-yeah, i got it," the interviewer stutters out. "uh, thank you-"

"the hell do you look so nervous for? i don't fuckin' bite," he says and the man stammers again. "i don't know why i bother doing all this shit," he murmurs in your ear.

"this is why outlets are so scared to interview you, kats," you whisper and he shrugs indifferently. "you scare reporters too easily."

"don't care. i just wanna relax and spend my day off with you. i'm too tired to be dealing with this shit," he grumbles and you laugh under your breath. "baby?"

"hmm?"

"can you do me a big favor?" you narrow your eyes suspiciously while the cameraman fumbles about with his equipment, packing up to leave.

"depends on the favor," you say carefully. "will i need to compromise my morals?" your boyfriend barks out a laugh, and the reporter startles.

"no, no. nothing like that," he reassures you and drops his volume so that only you can hear him. "baby, sweetheart, love of my life?"

"yes, katsuki?"

"please get this man the fuck out of our house."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[anothermansjeans]

you know how to ball, i know aristotle

s.r x f!reader

summary: spencer's love feels so high school

warnings: none!

wc: 689 (she's short!)

a/n: inspired by so high school!! i have 50 different fics planned after listening to ttpd.......be prepared

It felt childish in a way. The way Spencer feels his cheeks flush and a chill run down his body whenever she’s near him. The constant butterflies. The shyness he feels when she's around. The high he gets from being near her. It feels like he’s a teenager in love.

Right now, the feeling remains as he watches Y/N and the rest of the team that fills the bullpen play a makeshift game of basketball with a trash bin and crumpled up paper. Whenever she makes a basket, she snaps her head over to him to see if he was looking– of course he was– and his chest fills with pride. Once her turn was over though, his head went right back down to his current read, something about Greek philosophers.

“Pretty Boy!”

His head immediately went back up at the sound of Morgan calling out to him. “Hmm?”

“We need reinforcements. Your girl is kicking our asses over here.”

A red wave flooded his neck, making its way up to his face, and he moved his chair back the tiniest bit, giving a small nod as he tried to hide his shy smile. He felt the way one would if they were asked to play kiss, marry, kill with their crush’s name thrown in there. Honestly, he’d be content if she did all three to him.

From there on, the game went terribly. While Y/N was making shot after shot, Emily was barely making it around the rim, Derek made it every other time, and Spencer was so far off it was pointless in asking him to join (but he knew the ball wasn't weighted properly, and he’d die on that hill). It didn't take long for those who were losing to become uninterested in the game, so everything eventually went back to business.

That was until Spencer felt a pair of hands gently knead into his shoulders.

Normally, he would tense up immediately. He wouldn't want to be touched– he’d be questioning why someone was touching him. But he knew it was Y/N. He’s become accustomed to her delicate touch; the smell of her lotion; the light reflecting off of the promise ring he bought her for their last anniversary. She would massage his shoulders until he was completely relaxed against her, allowing her to lean forward more and wrap her arms around his neck, placing her chin on his shoulder.

“I had a lot of fun earlier. You did well.”

He let out a giddy laugh as he craned his neck in order to look at her. The same giddy feeling a teenager gets when playing spin the bottle and truth or dare spread through his body whenever he’s this close to her, it truly never fails.

“I’m glad. I absolutely embarrassed myself with my lack of skill, but I’m glad at least someone enjoyed it.”

“Hey,” she shifted slightly so that she was directly looking at him all while keeping her chin perched on him. “You didn't embarrass yourself. We all have things we’re good at. Like, look at this.” She lazily gestured to the books scattered across his desk, “I couldn't even begin to describe what you're reading. You’re brilliant, Spence.”

“It’s called The Philosophy of Aristotle. It’s a selection of Aristotle’s works and–” he stopped himself, watching the way Y/N was completely mesmerized by what he had to say.

“Keep going. I've done my reports and I’m sure you've finished yours. We have plenty of time.” She kissed his cheek as a way to get him to start speaking again, and he felt on top of the world.

It was childish, really. The constant buzz he felt when speaking to her. The crinkles he can feel by his eyes from smiling so hard. The childlike wonder at how someone could be so perfect for him. No one’s ever had him like her. He felt as though this is what he would've felt if he had a normal childhood, one where he had a high school sweetheart. And despite it feeling so high school, he loves it. He loves her.

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── REAP WHAT YOU SOW ┊ LOVE TO LOSE ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: gojo satoru x fem!reader.

꒰ heart to none ﹢ if only he knew karma would come back to bite his ass a few years later. now he misses his ex while she's moved on.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: nothing much!! just moments of him suffering

co-parenting with satoru truly isn't all butterflies. as reserved and respectful as he is (to a selected few), satoru never hesitated to taunt you whenever you mentioned going on dates.

“a date? hmm, good luck with that.”

“if it happens to kick off, good for you, but i don't want him near my child.”

“how exciting! i hope it fails.”

those are just some examples of his behaviour. he's vocal about disliking you and the idea of sharing you. had he known beforehand he'd become slightly possessive, he would've avoided you and relationships altogether.

loving someone his mind hates but his heart longs for isn't an experience he'd wish upon his worst enemy — it's too much. the wretched feeling in his chest deepens whenever he's with the kid; scenarios of you being beside him at that very moment flashes before his eyes, but his pride's too high to crash whatever you're doing.

that doesn't stop him from texting, however. he never had an issue with double—triple texting you. if he had something to say (which is never anything important), he'll say it.

satoru: hey.

satoru: did you forget you have a family at home?

satoru: my child's asleep btw, we had fun all day.

you: my* child. not yours.

satoru: so what am i, an elf on babysitting duties?

you: sure if that's what you want. now stop texting my phone.

satoru: what if i'm dying?

you: i'd pop some champagne. throw something on the grill. light up a cigarette, even.

satoru: you don't even like cigarettes.

you: exactly. now bye i'll be there for six.

yeah, there's no doubt that you'll never entertain him again. he, too, wouldn't entertain himself if he was in your position. sure, he was an ass in the relationship but— you're both older and wiser. maybe you can put the differences aside and come together? a flat no is what you'd answer.

satoru doesn't even hear from you often; most of your activity reports come from your child who excitedly tells their father the details, wishing he was there.

“you guys had fun. i wish i was there too, bub.”

a sentimental tone settled in his voice. he's suffering the consequences of his actions, and he desperately needs you to help him through it.

just like old times: you'd be there for him, going along with whatever he needed to calm down. whether it's wanting to be in you or on you— as long as your arms were wrapped around him.

but it's all a memory now. a bitter one.

do you show your vulnerable side to the guys you date, too? do you hold them the way you held him? do they even know what you like? do they know you the way he knows you?

jealousy, regret, longing— everything mixes in his mind. his stomach aches. it feels as though his insides are hollow.

he adores your child. they look mostly like him, but the personality stems from you. the attitude, tantrums, even the way they hold things — it's all you. he guesses the kid's observed you and eventually picked up your habits. satoru relates; after all, he still has some of your habits he picked up.

as the clock ticks on, his fingers hover over the keyboard on his phone. somehow, he found himself in your pinned chat— debating whether he should text or not. he's been typing and deleting for the past ten minutes. unless you're not on the app, there's no way you didn't notice the ‘typing...’ under his contact name.

satoru: i've been thinking.

(message deleted)

satoru: fuck your date let's get back together.

(message deleted)

satoru: or whatever you're doing right now. let me apologize — it's been years. our baby's four now.

(message deleted)

satoru: hey.

you: what's with these deleted messages?

you: are you okay?

he wonders. is he okay? would you come over if he said no? are you going to be mad if he re-sent what the deleted messages said?

satoru: uhhh yeah. everything's fine.

satoru: i'm bored that's why.

satoru: you should totally come over.

you: no.

you: talk to you later.

satoru: please? i'm serious.

you: fine.

satoru: might as well spend the night.

(message deleted)

satoru: thanks.

(message delivered)

“well fuck...” he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. he doesn't have anything to say nor do with you. actually, he does — he has quite a few, but he wouldn't push your buttons. he'd love to, but the chances of him receiving a slap is high.

[hyperiondickrider]

Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 2)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

Vox was an angry man. At least, right now he was.

“What the FUCK does that ancient prick think he’s doing, putting his hands on my little assistant?” Yes, Vox was in quite the mood, watching your every step and action through his monitor. Watching Alastor drag you along through public, knowing he could see you both, was simply the most fucking audacious move he has ever made.

“God fucking dammit, I told her not to speak to that old-timey asshole.” Staring at his monitors and muttering profanities, he felt his screen begin glitching and buffering out of severe irritation.

“My, my, Voxxy, I wonder what’s got you so out of sorts, hmm?”

“Shut the fuck up, Val, you fuckin know why I’m pissed.”

“What? You miss the little conejita, hm?”

“Get out of my room, Val. I got work to do.” Through gritted teeth he managed to compose himself, returning his gaze to his monitors, focusing in entirely on you, and your fearful eyes.

The way your bunny ears fluttered when you were thinking. The way you batted your eyelashes in surprise. The way your little button nose twitched when you were upset.

God, it was hard to stay mad at you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp buzzing of his doorbell, likely signally your arrival. He watched on his screen as Alastor bade you goodbye, planting a soft kiss on your hand, and watched your face darken with a blush at the action.

If he was angry before, now he was fucking seething.

No sooner had you entered the building and greeted the secretary, then Vox harshly grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you up to his office, ignoring your pretty little whimpers and pleas on the way up.

Finally in his office, he slammed the door and locked it before speaking.

“Y’know, dollface, I only had one rule for you here. Don’t fucking speak to Alastor. And y’know what, pretty girl? You just fucking broke it.” The lights in the room start to flicker and glitch as his irritation grows.

“‘M sorry, Mr Vox, b-but he wouldn’t l-leave me alone..” you cower away from his as he approaches you, eyes welling up with tears as your nose begins to run.

His anger stalls as he sees your teary eyes, letting out a sigh and releasing his power.

“C’mere, dollface.” He beckons you over, taking a seat behind his desk. As you approach he grabs you by the hips to sit you snugly on his lap, straddling him, as your face grew brighter.

“Y’know I can’t stay mad at you, babydoll. Just promise me you’ll try to avoid that asshole?”

You whimper affirmatively nuzzling into his chest as he pulled you in for a firm hug, reluctant to let you go.

“Okay, dollface. Run along now, Val wants to see you.”

Satan, was he such a sap for you.

Climbing off his lap you walk towards the door on shaky legs, gently waving him goodbye before closing it behind you.

Adjusting your skirt, you decided to go find Mr Val, to give him your report.

Wandering through the building, you finally found a staircase, and climbed up a few flights to reach the porn studios, where Valentino could usually be found. Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of naked people and lube in the environment, you began to get rather desperate.

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Mr Val?” You timidly asked the nearest actor.

“Uh, yeah, he’s in studio 6 right now, but be careful pretty girl. He’s in a mood right now.”

Hurriedly thanking the actor, you rushed off to studio 6 eager to speak to Val and leave the porn studios as quickly as possible.

“Goddammit, kitty! Why are these putas so fucking incompetent!” The sound of glass breaking indicated Mr Val’s presence, the actor’s observation of his poor mood being dead on.

“Well, if it isn’t the little asistente~ Any news for me, bonita conejita?”

And as always, his piss poor mood could be fixed in an instant by the presence of a pretty little thing. Feeling better already, he pulled you into his lap on his couch, your back against his much larger torso, as he began picking through strands of your hair, humming softly to himself.

“I-i found Angie, Mr Val. H-he’s stayin at the princess’s hotel in the center of town. I-I know you’re sad he’s not stayin with us anymore, b-but I think this could mean his work will improve, s-since he has more space ‘n all..” you trail off, embarrassed at your rambling, while Valentino simply chuckles at your naïve attempt to protect Angel from him.

He turns you around on his lap, blowing pink smoke into your face, making you cough gently.

“Such a kind little bunny, hmm? Trying to protect Angel Dust from the big bad moth man, yes? You really are una conejito estúpida, but such a cute one~”

He grabs your jaw forcing you to look him in the eyes, your skirt riding up as he forces you to lean forward, hands on his chest to brace yourself.

“I could make you a star, bebé bonita~ how’d you like that, everyone would know your face. And pussy I suppose.. no, I think I’d rather keep you all to myself, conejita.~”

He pulls you ever closer to pat your head and rub your ears, knowing just how much you love the attention.

“Hmm, you better go now, bebé. I got films to direct.” With a grin, he’s shoved you off his lap leaving you in a shaky heap on the floor. You carefully hoist yourself off the floor, deciding to head home for the day, all whiny and teary from how worked up everyone’s got you today. Oh well, hopefully Vox will take care of you later.

A/N: I love writing Val so much omg it’s so fun he’s such an ass

Tags: @whocaresimnothere

[leonw4nter]

maybe like a lil drabble (or whatever you’d like to do) where instead of hunnigan working with leon, it’s the reader. and they be all flirty and cute and kinda like 👉👈

tbh it can work for anything post-re2r, even if its still before re4r. you can do how he acts around you in different eras (if you want to at all, or just choose an era)

sooo whatever you have most inspo with! thank youu

RE4R!Leon x FOSAgent!F!Reader drabble

After Ashley and Luis had gone to sleep in the small ramshackle shed Leon had managed to locate for the night, he sat by the entrance of their temporary shelter and turned on his comms, waiting for his radio to pick up a stable wavelength to relay information back to HQ. The dingy little thing still wouldn’t pick up a frequency, which the blond didn’t wonder about since he’s been thrown around one too many times, the walkie-talkie probably also got a small beating along with the impact his body took. After giving a small pat to the black box in his hands, he finally managed to hear the static of his handler’s voice.

“Condor One to Roost, baby Eagle is currently taking shelter in this… dilapidated hut,” he sternly reports. “Along with Sera. Luis Sera.”

A moment of silence fills the air, accompanying the gentle pitter patter of the rain on the thickening mud before you respond to his reports.

“Hmm… aerial imaging tells me you’re near a lake, am I right? Can hear the rain from here,” you say.

“Yeah. We’re not too far from a lake,” he responds. “Guess we got eyes in the sky too, huh.”

He hears a faint little breath coming from you, probably a soft scoff. He smiles to himself, the first time in a long time before he brings his wrist near to his face.

“What time is it back home?” he asks.

“1300.”

“You should probably get some rest, baby. Don’t worry about me, I’m making sure we all get out of here in one piece.”

“I want to but I can’t bring myself to,” he hears you softly respond. “I can’t risk losing you, you know. I gotta keep guard on comms 24/7 even though I know you’re great at your job.”

Leon’s heart squeezes a little bit; he knows how important rest is to someone, which is ironic considering how he hasn’t had proper rest in over 96 hours and is desperately craving a good, lengthy sleep though he doesn’t mind if it means keeping Ashley and the flirty Spaniard safe and sound. He won’t mind, most of all, if it meant keeping in touch with you.

“And besides, I have reports to send to Graham– location updates, aerial view images, all that jazz. I have many things to work on,” you say before he hears you yawn quietly. “It’s not like I can just stop doing these because I’m tired; at the end of the day, the president is a father who wants to know how his daughter is doing all the way on the other side of the world. He’s worried sick.”

“And at the end of the day, I’m just your boyfriend who wants to make sure my girlfriend is still taking care of herself despite all her workload,” Leon responds. “I know baby, I know but still take some time to rest– even for a little bit.”

A soft sigh can be heard from your end.

“Fine. But aren’t you supposed to be resting too? Don’t see any threats within a 3-mile radius, you’re good.”

“Nah. Gotta keep watch, can’t be too vigilant. You’ll be the one resting for both of us tonight,” he says.

“Leon.”

“I’ll get rest later, honey. I promise,” Leon pleads.

Another sigh. Gosh, Leon hates how you’ve been sighing a lot more lately, which meant that a lot was weighing on your mind.

“Promise me that. Or I’ll personally fly there to beat your ass.”

“I’d rather you beat something else of mine instead,” Leon jokes.

“I’ll remind you, agent Kennedy, that we’re still on government-operated frequencies so I highly recommend communicating in a professional manner.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am agent Kestrel, the absolute love of my life.”

“I’m going to go on the break you’ve been forcing me to have instead.”

Leon chuckles to himself, a small puff of air leaving his cracked and pale lips.

“Okay, okay. Good night, baby. I’ll talk to you 4 hours from now.”

“Good night, hon. I… I miss you and… please stay safe,” you sincerely whisper to him, unable to switch off the frequency connecting you to him.

“Me too. I miss you. I love you,” he says before turning the radio off and placing it back in one of the many fancy pockets he had.

He props one leg up while he sits, resting his forearm on his knee as he looks out into the dark and foggy scenery. The rain would be nice if he was back home with his girlfriend, cuddling and joking in the bed of their shared apartment instead of this miserable hellhole infested with mutants and murder-crazed cult fanatics. As much as he wanted to bring along a locket or a small picture of you he couldn’t, out of making sure that there would be no traces of foreigners that the crazy locals could use to somehow involve all of America into this. A faint creak of the rickety wooden floorboards has the hairs on the back of his head standing, his hands flying to the sleek silver pistol on his holster to point it at the source of the noise, only for the source of the noise to be the nosy Spaniard who was unfortunately very much wide awake and conscious throughout the conversation he had.

“Didn’t know you had a ladylove, sancho.” was all the man said after raising his arms up as the agent pointed his gun at him.

Leon put his gun back down, the usual smoulder and frown taking its place back into his haggard features as he sat back down and stared out into nothingness again.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to call a lady ‘baby’ or ‘honey’,” he teases. He walks up to Leon, taking a spot beside him and placing a cigarette to his lips before lighting the end of it with his lighter.

“‘You should probably get some rest, baby’,” Luis repeats with a sly smirk as he shoots Leon a curious look.

Leon simply gives him a death glare, squinting his eyes before turning his attention back to somewhere that isn’t irritating or getting on his last nerve.

“That’s not what it was.” It was what it was.

“Mhm, Sancho.”

“You be thankful she hasn’t ratted your ass out to the president yet,” he hisses.

“Good point there,” Luis sneers. “No… no anything then?”, to which Leon responds with silence.

“Then… perhaps she’d like to go out for a jive, a little dance of bachata with me,” the Spaniard presses with a shit-eating grin. “Since you two don’t seem to be anything.”

“Back off from my girlfriend,” Leon blurted as he froze the man in front of him with his steel blue gaze.

Luis puts out his cigarette, chucking it somewhere and gets up as he walks back to where he ‘slept’ moments ago.

“Okay, sancho. I can clearly see that you’re hers,” he comments. “I guess only you have the pass to call her ‘the absolute love of your life’. Buenas noches, amigo.”

With a wink, he lays back down on the floor and turns to his side to fall asleep.

NOTES - It feels great to finally get back to posting again!!! It's been quite some time and since I'm finally finished with the third quarter and my tests, I'll be more active with posting fics :)) Requests have been marinating in my inbox and I know ppl have been waiting for quite some time so here's the request, more otw!!!! I'm also eepy rn so I'm going to go to bed after I post this <3 Neways, thanks for reading my works and I <3333 UUUU!!!!!! HAVE A GREAT DAY WHEREVER YOU ARE <3

[novaursa]

The Games We Play (ambition of the heart)

- Summary: The dragon catches Otto’s attention, and he decides to charm you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: persevere

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The morning sun filters into the council chamber, bathing the room in a soft glow as Viserys sits comfortably at the head of the table, absentmindedly fiddling with a model of Old Valyria. His focus drifts between the conversations happening around him and the delicate dragon he’s holding, completely unaware of the subtle glances from Otto Hightower.

Otto, standing to Viserys’s right, is carefully choosing his moment. His expression is calm, but behind his eyes, one can see the wheels turning—his mind already crafting the words that will gently nudge Viserys in the direction he’s hoping for.

Tyland Lannister, sitting further down the table, is flipping through some reports, occasionally glancing up when something catches his attention. His sharp eyes narrow slightly when he notices Otto lingering near the king. A knowing smirk tugs at Tyland’s lips, though it quickly disappears when Otto glances in his direction.

“Your Grace,” Otto begins, voice as smooth as ever. “I’ve been meaning to discuss something… of a more personal nature.”

Viserys looks up from his dragon model, blinking as if he’s been shaken from a pleasant daydream. “Hmm? What’s that, Otto? Something urgent?”

Otto hesitates for only a second, choosing his words with care. “Not urgent, Your Grace. Merely... a suggestion regarding the future. Your dear sister, Princess Y/N—she’s been without a match for some time now.”

At this, Tyland’s head snaps up so quickly it’s a wonder he doesn’t pull a muscle. His eyes widen, darting between Otto and Viserys, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out, only a stunned, breathy sound of confusion. He starts to speak, then stops, his eyes narrowing in disbelief as he realizes what Otto is getting at.

Viserys, however, remains as oblivious as ever, nodding along amiably. “Ah, yes. Y/N... always headstrong, isn’t she?” He chuckles, shaking his head fondly. “She’s never been one for courtship, has she?”

Otto leans in just a fraction closer, his voice softening to a conspiratorial tone. “Perhaps she simply requires the right guidance... a husband of good character, one who understands the value of her wisdom, her strength.”

Viserys raises an eyebrow, his attention already wandering back to his dragon model. “Aye, she could use someone patient, I suppose. Someone who won’t get in her way when she’s deep in those histories of hers.”

Tyland nearly chokes on his wine, setting the goblet down with a clatter that draws both men’s attention. His expression is a mix of horror and astonishment as he realizes exactly what Otto is suggesting.

“Lord Otto…” Tyland begins, voice low and incredulous, “are you—”

But before he can finish, Alicent, who has been standing near the door, quickly steps forward, eyes wide with alarm. “Father,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, “perhaps this is a matter best left alone. Y/N is content as she is.”

Otto shoots her a pointed look, barely raising an eyebrow. “Alicent, this is a matter between men. I’m sure you understand.”

Alicent hesitates, clearly torn between intervening further and respecting her father’s wishes. She bites her lip, glancing worriedly at Viserys, who is still blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around him.

“But, Father—” she tries again, her voice more urgent, though still soft.

Otto holds up a hand to stop her, his tone gentle but firm. “You need not worry, Alicent. I have nothing but the most honorable intentions toward Princess Y/N.”

Alicent’s eyes widen in disbelief, but before she can protest further, Viserys chuckles again, entirely missing the subtlety of the situation. “Aye, well, she’s a difficult one to match, I’ll grant you that. I suppose it would take a steady hand to guide her.” He sets his dragon model down and stretches, oblivious to the tension now simmering in the room.

Otto’s lips twitch, and for a moment, there’s a flash of triumph in his eyes. “Precisely, Your Grace. A steady hand… one who could offer her not just companionship, but also… stability.” His tone is so diplomatic that it could almost be mistaken for simple concern—almost.

Tyland, however, is no fool. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table as he studies Otto with a look of sheer disbelief. “Are you actually… suggesting yourself, Lord Hightower?” His voice is laced with barely contained shock.

Viserys, finally catching on to the underlying meaning, blinks in confusion. “What? Otto? Oh, surely not.” He laughs heartily, slapping the table. “You, courting Y/N? That would be—well, that’s amusing, Otto. Quite the jest!”

Alicent covers her face with one hand, as if she can’t bear to watch what’s unfolding, while Tyland openly gapes at the scene, his mouth hanging open like a man who’s just seen a horse sprout wings.

Otto clears his throat, still managing to keep his composure, though a faint blush creeps into his cheeks. “Your Grace, I assure you, my suggestion was made in earnest.”

Viserys stops laughing abruptly, blinking at Otto as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re serious?”

Otto nods, his expression as dignified as ever. “Indeed, Your Grace. I believe Princess Y/N and I would make a fine match. I have great respect for her, and she deserves someone who can offer her stability and wisdom.”

For a moment, Viserys simply stares at Otto, as if trying to process the absurdity of what he’s just heard. Finally, he breaks into a smile, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well… I must say, I hadn’t considered that. But…” He chuckles again, clearly amused by the idea, though not taking it nearly as seriously as Otto might hope.

“You always were a loyal advisor, Otto,” Viserys says, still smiling. “But Y/N… well, she’s not exactly one for arrangements, as you know. I’ll speak with her about it if you’d like, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Otto, sensing that this is as close to a victory as he’s going to get today, nods graciously. “I would be honored if you did, Your Grace. Whatever her decision, I will respect it.”

Tyland lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, shaking his head as if to clear the madness from it. Alicent, meanwhile, glances between her father and Viserys, her mouth slightly agape, clearly at a loss for words.

As the meeting comes to a close, Otto steps back, allowing the conversation to shift to more mundane matters. But Tyland’s eyes never leave him, and as they exit the room, he leans over to Alicent, muttering, “He’s mad, isn’t he? Completely mad.”

Alicent can only offer a small, weary nod in return. “You have no idea.”

Meanwhile, Viserys walks away, humming softly to himself, entirely unaware of the storm Otto Hightower has just kicked up in his court—one that may yet become far more complicated than anyone realizes.

You were sitting with your brother, Daemon in the gardens. The two of you are lounging by a fountain, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Daemon, ever the restless one, has his sword laid across his lap, lazily cleaning it as he tells you about his latest escapades with a smug grin plastered on his face.

"And then the fool had the nerve to challenge me to a duel. Can you imagine?" Daemon chuckles, shaking his head. "As if any knight in this kingdom could best me. Honestly, Y/N, I sometimes wonder if they breed these men without a brain between their ears."

You smile, more focused on the scroll of Valyrian poetry in your lap than Daemon’s boasting. "Perhaps they just enjoy getting humiliated. You do have a way of making it memorable."

Before Daemon can retort, you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. You both glance up to see Viserys wandering towards you, his expression a little more focused than usual, though still managing to look as though he’s been mulling over something far too trivial for his position as king.

“Ah, Y/N, Daemon,” he greets, plopping down beside you on the stone bench with a long sigh, completely oblivious to the two of you exchanging a knowing glance. “I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. There’s something… well, something important I need to discuss with you.”

Daemon quirks an eyebrow, immediately suspicious, while you close your scroll and turn your attention to your older brother. “Important? Is something wrong?”

Viserys waves a hand dismissively. “No, no, nothing’s wrong.” He clears his throat, clearly trying to find the right words. “It’s… it’s about your future, Y/N. You know you’re not getting any younger.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Is that so, brother? Do go on.”

Daemon, who’s now leaning against the fountain, arms crossed over his chest, smirks knowingly. “This ought to be good.”

Viserys shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you see… Otto came to me recently. He, um… he brought up an interesting idea. One that I think might… be worth considering.”

You blink at him, already feeling the beginning of some sort of absurdity about to unfold. “And what exactly is this idea?”

Viserys smiles sheepishly. “He proposed that perhaps you and he… you know, that you might… make a match.”

There’s a long, stunned silence. You stare at him, completely dumbfounded, while Daemon’s smirk vanishes, replaced by an expression of absolute horror. For a moment, the only sound is the gentle splash of water from the fountain.

Finally, Daemon breaks the silence. “Otto Hightower?” he says, voice dripping with disbelief. “You’re joking.”

Viserys waves his hands frantically, trying to quell the growing tension. “No, no! He was quite serious, actually. Said something about you needing stability and someone who appreciates your wisdom.”

You exchange a look with Daemon, whose expression has morphed from disbelief into outright disgust. “Stability? Wisdom? Hightower? Viserys, have you been breathing in too much incense again?”

You try to suppress your laughter, but it bubbles up despite yourself. “Are you actually suggesting I marry Otto Hightower? The man who’s older than half the trees in the godswood?”

Viserys raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I know it sounds... unusual, but hear me out! Otto is a respectable man, Y/N. Loyal. And he’s already part of our family in a way, through Alicent.”

Daemon cuts in before you can respond, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Yes, brother, and what a wonderful idea it would be for Y/N to marry Alicent's father. Because nothing says romance like dining with your wife while her father stares at your sister longingly across the table.”

You can’t help but laugh at that image, though you quickly cover your mouth. Viserys frowns, clearly not understanding why this is being taken as a joke.

“I’m serious!” he insists, as if that’s going to make it sound any less ridiculous. “Otto is one of my most trusted advisors, and he genuinely admires you, Y/N. He would be a steady hand, someone you could depend on.”

“Steady hand?” Daemon scoffs, eyes narrowing. “You mean he’d keep her under lock and key, stifling her with council meetings and endless lectures on duty. No, thank you.”

You give Viserys a pointed look, trying your best to keep your tone light. “Brother, I appreciate your concern, but marrying Otto Hightower sounds about as appealing as taking a vow of silence and living in the Citadel.”

Viserys looks genuinely confused, his brow furrowing. “But… Otto is a good man, Y/N. He respects you. He even said something about… about your interest in books. Surely that’s something you two could bond over?”

“Books?” Daemon cuts in again, now looking thoroughly annoyed. “Viserys, the man can barely hold a sword, let alone keep up with Y/N’s knowledge. Do you really think she’s going to be wooed by discussions of grain shipments and council politics?”

You shake your head, placing a hand on Viserys’s shoulder to soften the blow. “Viserys, Otto is… not exactly what I’m looking for in a husband. I’m sure he means well, but I have no desire to become the Lady of Parchments and Ledgers.”

Viserys, still not fully grasping the absurdity of what he’s suggested, sighs heavily. “I just thought it might be a good match. Otto’s been very persistent about it.”

Daemon, now pacing behind you, mutters under his breath, “I’ll bet he has.”

“Look, Viserys,” you say gently, trying to spare your brother from further embarrassment, “I’m perfectly happy without being married off to your Hand. Otto is many things, but a romantic suitor isn’t one of them.”

Viserys finally seems to register your resistance, though he still looks vaguely disappointed. “Well… if you’re sure. I just thought—”

“Viserys,” Daemon interrupts, placing a hand on his shoulder with a grin, “trust me. The last thing Y/N needs is a husband like Otto Hightower. What she needs is someone with a spine, not someone who’ll treat her like a particularly prized manuscript.”

You chuckle at that, patting Viserys’s arm. “Daemon’s right, for once. I’m sure Otto will understand that we’re not exactly… suited.”

Viserys sighs again, though a small smile tugs at his lips as he looks between you and Daemon. “I suppose I should’ve expected this. Very well, Y/N. I won’t push the matter any further. But don’t be surprised if Otto finds another way to bring it up. He’s a persistent one, that man.”

As Viserys walks off, still muttering about Otto’s persistence, Daemon turns to you with a mischievous grin. “Can you imagine it? You, married to Otto Hightower? Seven hells, I’d sooner see you wed to one of those statues in the Red Keep.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, I’m not sure who would be more miserable—me, or Otto.”

Daemon chuckles darkly, giving you a nudge. “Come, let’s find something to do that doesn’t involve discussing that old vulture’s love life.”

You stand and link arms with him, walking back toward the keep. But in the back of your mind, you can’t help but wonder what Otto will try next. Whatever it is, you’re sure it will be just as ridiculous as today’s attempt.

Alicent paced back and forth in her chambers, her gown swishing softly across the floor as she rehearsed the words in her head for the fiftieth time. Confronting her father was not a task she took lightly, but ever since that absurd conversation in the council chambers earlier, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

Her father. Otto Hightower. With… her.

It was unthinkable.

With a deep breath, Alicent steeled herself and marched toward Otto’s solar. When she arrived, she found him seated at his desk, as usual, surrounded by scrolls and papers. He looked up at her entrance, his eyes mild but quickly registering the determination in her expression.

“Father,” she began, not even bothering with pleasantries, “we need to talk.”

Otto set down his quill and folded his hands on the desk, regarding her with that calm, unreadable expression that always made her feel like a child again. “Alicent. What troubles you?”

Alicent stood before him, arms crossed, her brows knitted together in a mix of confusion and disbelief. “Earlier, in the council chambers. Your suggestion to Viserys about… a match with Y/N. Is it true? Were you actually serious?”

Otto didn’t flinch, though there was a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. “Yes, I was.”

Alicent blinked, completely thrown by how casually he admitted it. “But… but why? I can’t imagine—Father, you’ve always been… you loved Mother.” Her voice wavered, as though speaking about her late mother might conjure her memory into the room. “I never thought you would consider… anyone else. Especially her.”

Otto’s expression softened slightly, but he remained composed. “Alicent, your mother was a great love in my life. I would never compare anyone to her. But life moves forward. Y/N is—”

“Y/N?” Alicent cut him off, her voice rising in disbelief. “A Targaryen princess? My friend? Father, she’s nothing like Mother, or like anyone you’ve ever shown interest in, for that matter!”

Otto exhaled, clearly choosing his next words carefully. “Y/N is intelligent, wise beyond her years. She holds a unique place in the court, one that would strengthen our family’s position even further—”

“Position?” Alicent’s eyes narrowed, pacing again as she processed his words. “So this is political, then. That’s all this is to you.”

Otto raised a hand, a placating gesture, though his expression tightened slightly. “Alicent, it’s not merely political. Y/N is an admirable woman. Her presence would bring stability to the court, to our family. And I—”

“You what?” Alicent stopped mid-step, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait. This isn’t just about politics, is it?” She stared at him, her voice softening with a hint of disbelief. “You… you actually have feelings for her, don’t you?”

Otto hesitated, the slightest crack in his otherwise impenetrable facade. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. His fingers drummed on the desk, a small, telltale sign that he was weighing his response.

“Alicent,” he finally said, his voice measured, “I admire her. Greatly. Y/N is a woman of character, intelligence, and grace. I’ve long respected her, but perhaps I’ve come to—” He paused again, as though even he was reluctant to admit what came next. “Perhaps I’ve come to see her as more than just a political ally.”

Alicent’s jaw dropped, her arms falling to her sides in stunned disbelief. She had expected this to be a matter of cold logic, of strategic alliances and power. But her father, the ever-calculating, stoic Otto Hightower, was smitten? With a Targaryen princess who, by all accounts, seemed more interested in ancient scrolls than courtly love?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Alicent stammered, sinking into the nearest chair, her mind racing. “Father, this is… I never imagined you’d be…” She trailed off, searching for the right word. “Romantic,” she finished weakly.

Otto gave her a faint smile, though it was tinged with a hint of exasperation. “Alicent, I’m not as cold and heartless as you seem to think.”

“No, of course not,” Alicent quickly replied, her cheeks flushing. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you show interest in anyone since Mother passed. And now, of all people, it’s Y/N. It’s just…” She shook her head, incredulous. “Unexpected.”

Otto stood and walked over to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “Y/N is different. She’s strong in a way that few in this court are. I’ve come to appreciate that more over the years. She challenges people, but with a sense of dignity and grace.” He turned to Alicent, his eyes betraying more emotion than she was used to seeing in him. “I admire her.”

Alicent stared at him, utterly baffled. “You admire her? That’s what this is? You’ve fallen in love with her because she reads history books and doesn’t care what people think of her?”

Otto raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement. “You make it sound as though I’m a lovesick boy.”

“Well, aren’t you?” Alicent shot back, more flustered than she had intended. “You’ve been subtly trying to woo her, and you think I wouldn’t notice? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Father, this isn’t like you.”

He chuckled softly, a rare sound that made her feel even more unsettled. “People change, Alicent. I never expected this either. But the more time I’ve spent around Y/N, the more I’ve come to value her presence. She’s not just an asset to the throne—she’s…” He paused, searching for the right word, then settled with a simple, “...remarkable.”

Alicent rubbed her temples, trying to process what she was hearing. “You realize how bizarre this sounds, don’t you? Y/N is practically a sister to me. And you’re proposing that she could be… I don’t even know what to call it. My stepmother?”

Otto grimaced slightly at that, clearly not thrilled with the phrasing. “It’s not as strange as you think, Alicent.”

“Not as strange?” she repeated, incredulously. “Father, Viserys practically laughed in your face when you suggested it to him. And Daemon—Daemon—would sooner fly you out of the Keep on Caraxes than allow this to happen.”

Otto sighed, his composure returning as he leaned against the windowsill. “I’m well aware that this will be… difficult. But I believe it’s worth pursuing.”

Alicent looked at him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of hesitation or doubt. But there was none. Instead, there was a strange, almost serene conviction that unsettled her even more.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Otto Hightower, smitten with a Targaryen princess.”

Otto smiled faintly. “The world is full of surprises, Alicent.”

She stood up, still grappling with the absurdity of it all, and gave him a long, searching look. “You truly believe this is a good idea?”

“I do,” he said, without hesitation.

Alicent sighed, rubbing her temples again. “Well… I suppose stranger things have happened. But I can’t say I’ll ever get used to the idea of you and Y/N.”

Otto’s smile widened just a fraction. “Give it time, my dear. Who knows? You may yet come to appreciate it.”

Alicent shook her head again, still not entirely sure whether to laugh or cry. “I suppose we’ll see.” As she turned to leave, she paused at the door, looking back at him with a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement. “Just… promise me you won’t try serenading her in the gardens or anything.”

Otto chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll leave that to the poets.”

Alicent nodded, still muttering to herself as she left the room, unable to shake the image of her father wooing a Targaryen princess. "What has the world come to…"

[balteredsworld]

negotiations. gregory house

🥼🩺 | house would rather fight you, but negotiates a date to a gala for a truce.

masterlist : greg house n all

tags/warnings! house being house, lawyer!reader, drugs, not enemies per say but there's def something there, reader is stacy's apprentice of sorts | gifs by @propertyofjameswilson

author's note: this was one of the first requests i got in my inbox! i accidentally deleted it omg but i hope this finds you <3 lemme know what you guys think!

"if this is an ethical boards issue, file the report over there," you spoke, eyes never leaving the monitor screen.

you already knew it was house from the way a constant thud crept its way to your office. that, and you could see his figure from your peripheral, so really you didn't need to look up.

"it's adorable that you automatically know it's me," he noted, obviously humoured. "if i didn't know better, i would've pegged you down as a secret admirer."

still, that didn't inspire much of a reaction from you other than a short glance. the two of you have been veering on this lane since you replaced stacy seven months ago. you were much colder than she was, and so much less accommodating to his devious needs.

house often wondered how stacy even took a liking to you, but then again she was also ruthless when he first met her. by that logic, you didn't fall from the tree. you were your mentor's very picture, but oh were you much icier. it was annoying, but he liked drilling you.

unfortunately for him, you were several inches thick. so he considered you worse than cuddy in that regard. at least she entertained his whims, but you... you didn't care nor bat an eye.

you said all the appropriate, correct and right things.

"well?"

"i need you," he admitted ominously.

your brows knitted, "right...?"

a silence broke between the two of you, causing you to finally look up and meet his eyes.

"house, if this is an ethics question, you have cuddy to advise you," you sighed. "i only deal with court and legal processes."

he shook his head. "i need you."

you sent him another worrisome look, before finally giving in. "what for?"

"tonight's the gala. i need a date."

:..don't you have hookers for that? i'm sure they would like the pay," you told him, voice and tone slow, still unsure what the gimmick was with this request.

if you had learned one thing in your seven months here at princeton was that everything involving house was some sort of mind game. you'd dealt with him enough times to know that, and seen him through three excruciating court appearances because the man couldn't and wouldn't shut up.

house was stupid in the way he was careless.

he plopped himself on your client chairs, hands wrapping the knob of his cane like he was considering some great philosophy or debate in his mind, surely one about the manmade idea of a god.

"hmm, good point. hookers do have their perks-less backtalk, more enthusiasm," he hummed, pretending to think, brows raising as he offered the explanation to his request. "but, hey, i figured slumming it with you might be an interesting change of pace."

despite his nonchalant closing of the question, he was still there. the proposition hung heavy in the your silence, piercing through the airy creak of the floorboards from the wobble of his cane.

you cocked your brow, asking, "so you want me to be your entertainment?"

at that house scrunched his face.

"entertainment? that's putting it generous," he remarked, looking at you with incredulous eyes as he leaned on the chair's backrest to take a vicodin. "i was thinking more like a reluctant accomplice in a dull evening. but who knows, you might surprise me."

he wanted you to bite. if you were cameron, then maybe you would've then and there, and entertain house's wild fantasy of taking you to the gala to stir up hospital gossip. but you still didn't know the caveat to your compliance, not to mention the sea of paperwork you'd been made to deal with due to his merry malpractice.

it was like this every other week, somehow piling larger because you had to justify house's forgeries on paper.

"well, i'm flattered at your proposal, but alas i'm swamped from your court hearing last week," you straightened up, gesturing to the piles and piles of folders and legal binders littering your desk. "i have you to thank for that i believe."

your dry remark elicited an impatient huff from house, all but crass and lax about administrative affairs of his hospital job.

"the perks of my charming personality. you're welcome for the excitement," he told you, leaning back toward you to flick through the papers on your desk.

"what's the gimmick?"

"no gimmicks. just you and me surviving the god awful gala, and you can have tickets to whatever show you want. what do you say?"

he looked at you innocently.

"there's always a gimmick with you, house. it makes your puzzle for your team to figure out. so what's the puzzle here?" you query, locking your hands together.

more than anything, this was negotiation. anything was negotiable with house: rules, conduct... the law.

anything was remotely subjective was up for his objective debate, all to prop himself up with more advantage to do whatever he wants in the hospital. even though he makes up for it with his rightness, it's made up more work for you

"you on my arm; i need to quiet down cuddy," he finally reveals, pursing his lips. "she's antsy about our squashbuckling. personally think it's great pr, but mommy says otherwise."

you let out a breath, considering the argument. he was right, of course. the times the two of you went to court, you looked like you could barely control your client even with your stern voice and threats. your threats were empty in house's books. so long as he proved himself on principle, consequences were an afterthought to him.

his integrity made him a man easy to admire, but he would rather ruffle your feathers to see how far you'd go. it infuriated and vexed you. but, if this was really a chance to call an armistice, then his proposition was more than an attractive offer.

"okay," you agreed.

house bobbed his head, appeased with your agreement, "great."

"but i don't want tickets."

he edged his head, encouraging you to go on. eyes wary, nonetheless.

"i want the next case without a pile of files for me to review."

a beat.

he blinked.

then he uncontrollably laughed. the fucker laughed.

"that's cute, y/l/n," he chortled, sinking into the backrest completely. he was smug, face dancing with amusement and disbelief like you believed he could really do that.

"let's see, you want me to diagnose a complex medical case discarding my process and adhere to standard protocol. wow that's really cute."

"well, fine then. appease cuddy another way," you waved him off, letting your eyes fall to your monitor to go back to work.

sensing this, house groaned a sigh, exchanging his previous amusement for your veering annoyance. he took his fingers and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"alright, you want a break from my malpractice masterpieces? fine. i'll keep it clean the next time. but if i manage to save a life without a single piece of paper, you owe me more than the gala."

you stared back at him, mildly bewildered, "are you asking me out on a date, house?"

"my diagnostic powers deserve more than a gala."

so it was a yes, then. part of you wanted to beam, but that would betray your icy façade. so instead you settled for cool nod, won by the whole proposal. you knew he wouldn't resist a challenge if you posed one, and if it meant less work for you, then you'd let house take you out.

house also owed you more than a date after the last seven months of putting up with his shit.

"wear a nice suit," you accepted, weathering a ghost of a smile. "pick me up at my apartment at 8."

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch.7

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been far too long. Far too long since you've stayed alone with a man overnight. Your nerves were kicking in as you kept thinking about staying over at Miguel's place. You knew that he would never take advantage of you, but the nerves. The nerves wouldn't go away nor stop the thoughts.

Unable to stop shaking, you gasped as you dropped the order you were wrapping on the floor. Prepared to be yelled at, you shrunk and covered your ears. To your surprise, none of your coworkers yelled at you. They just quickly made another order and had to wrap it for them again.

You apologized and redid the wrapping, glancing around. You've seen these guys scream and yell at each other whenever someone fucks up. How come they didn't do it to you? Recalling Miguel, you started to wonder if he had a hand in this. Miguel was a regular and someone who did use the supermarket for something else that you still didn't know.

Could he have said something?

Playing with your sleeves, you tried to calm down. Could Miguel have said something to your bosses? The thought did make your heart flutter. How much was this man going to take care of you? You needed to find a way to return the favor.

"(Y/N), go take a break." Your Supervisor told you. You flinched and nodded,

"S-Sorry," You whimpered, hurrying off to the breakroom.

Right as you left, your Supervisor exhaled loudly and walked over to the small seating area in front of the deli. He placed a sandwich in front of a woman holding a newspaper.

"You got patience. I could never sit and watch someone for eight hours a day."

"That's why I got hired," Jessica said, lowering her paper, "You and I both know it isn't going to last forever. Miguel always gets what he wants."

------------

You held your bag in your hand, waiting for Miguel's text. You had prepped last night and the manager allowed you to leave your duffel bag in her office for your shift. Stepping outside the supermarket, you gasped lowly, spotting Miguel exiting his car.

"I was just about to text you," Miguel hummed. His driver rushing out to take your bag, "Would you like to go anywhere first before dinner? There's still some hours of daylight left."

"O-Oh, hmm..." You covered your mouth, trying to think as Miguel motioned you towards his car, "I-I'm not sure, there is...a few things I've been wanting to see..."

"Name them,"

Once you were both in the backseat of his car, Miguel brought you in for a deep kiss. He loved seeing how dazed and red you get each time. It was so addicting seeing your innocence. As you started naming some places, Miguel informed his driver to take them to each one.

Before they left, Miguel made sure to signal Jessica a good job and for her to go back home. Miguel was determined to make sure nothing gets you stressed or worked up. Especially not after seeing those scars.

Right as he leaned back into his seat, Miguel eagerly waited for a report from Miles. There was so much anger inside of Miguel that he needed to let it loose soon.

"Thank you, Miguel," You whispered, resting your head against his shoulder. Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist,

"Of course,"

---------

You were exhausted. Miguel had taken you all over the city, sightseeing a bunch of places you had wanted to visit. You felt so happy and loved. But mainly exhausted. All of that walking around since he couldn't drive into those places, did take a toll.

Rubbing your eyes as you sat back down in the back of Miguel's car, you whimpered a small yawn. Once the car started to drive, you immediately fell asleep.

---------

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched you sleep against him. Wanting to make you comfortable, Miguel adjusted you and had you lay your head on his lap. Miguel's jacket resting over you as a blanket. It was funny. Normally Miguel had women lay down in his car for other reasons, but this was nice.

As Miguel played with your hair, he felt his phone buzz. Assuming that it was Miles, Miguel hurriedly answered.

"Update?"

"Weeeeeeeeell," Lyla forced a laugh, "That mission you sent Miles on turned out to be a road trip."

"Que? (What)"

"See, Gwen and Hobie found out that Miles was going out of town and decided they want in. Then they dragged Pavitar with them, so to make sure they didn't mess up the mission or do anything stupid-"

"Don't say Peter-"

"I had Peter go supervise them," Lyla laughed.

Miguel couldn't handle hearing anymore. He hung up, groaning lowly. It just had to be the youngling of his group. They kept adding to his stress. But, at least Miguel had you.

"Shall I take you home, sir?" Miguel glanced up at his driver,

"Yes. Perhaps take out will suffice for dinner instead." Miguel replied, adoring your sleeping visage.

The last thing Miguel wanted to do was overstimulate you. You were fragile. His reports from Jessica were very detailed in what got you to tick and explode. It took every ounce of willpower for Miguel to stay back whenever Jessica reported you crying over a stupid, angry customer.

But, you won't be working there much longer. Arriving at his penthouse, Miguel carefully picked you up and carried you upstairs while his driver grabbed the bags.

You looked perfect in his arms. All nuzzled against him, sleeping peacefully. Why didn't you appear sooner in his life? Miguel was going to treat you like the queen you deserve to be. His precious little wife. A title so fitting for you.

Miguel had his driver leave the bags on the counter and told him to enjoy the rest of his day. With ease, Miguel took off both his shoes and yours and proceeded to take you to his bedroom. Miguel placed you on his bed, kissing the top of your head before leaving to order some food.

"Que duermas bien mi conejito. (Sleep well, my little bunny)"

-----------

It was quiet. Your felt yourself start to come too as you shifted slightly in your sleep. You felt relaxed and comfortable. Slowly opening your eyes, you titled your head at the different, yet fancy ceiling. Miguel must have taken you to his place.

Gasping, you shot up, covering your face since you realized that you fell asleep. How embarrassing! You looked around, seeing that you were in his room, but no sign of Miguel. Laying back down, you felt yourself sink into his mattress.

"It smells like him," You whispered, holding his pillow close.

Your cheeks started to warm up as your heart pounded against your chest. You were really at Miguel's place. You wanted to feel like everything was moving so fast, but it also felt so right. It was corny, but you felt like Miguel was filling in the missing pieces.

"Ah, you're awake. Did you rest well?" Miguel asked as he entered the room. You quickly released his pillow and sat up,

"Mhm, s-sorry for falling asleep,"

"Don't be. I made you exhausted after a long day of work," Miguel sat beside you, cupping your cheek, "I got us some take out. Ready to eat?"

"Yep,"

You took Miguel's hand, giggling softly as he lifted you off the bed. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, enjoying the moment. Miguel held your hand as he showed you around his penthouse, at least until he took you to the dining room where dinner was waiting.

"T-This place...is...is so big. It...It must feel really lonely," You whispered.

Miguel glanced at you in awe. Every other women would compliment on his place, saying it must cost a fortune, or make a sly comment about him needing a maid. Yet, here you were, worried about him. It was funny how much Miguel loved you.

"Not too much since I'm only here so a short time. Unless I get a reason to home won't, I'll stay out working." Miguel handed you a plate.

"T-Thank you,"

You watched Miguel as he set the plates, finding him much more attractive. This was new. You sat up, wanting to help him, but Miguel insisted that you'd sit and relax. As Miguel set the plates, you picked at your sleeves. He was so nice to you. So understanding.

Perhaps, you could tell him your secret. It was something hard for you, but if you were going to be serious with Miguel, you wanted him to know. You were just worried about his reaction. What if he decided that you were ugly? What if he didn't want anything to do with you afterwards?

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Miguel hurried to your side, wiping your tears away, "Tell me, mi amor (my love)."

"I-I'm so-sorry. I-It's just...I...I want...w-want to t-tell you s-something b-but...but I-I'm scared...t-that you'll w-want n-nothing to do...w-with me." You sobbed.

Miguel knew you were scared due to your worse stuttering. He held you against his chest, letting you cry. Miguel had a rough idea that you wanted to tell him about your scars. Hell, Miguel wasn't sure how he would react. Stroking your hair, Miguel sighed softly,

"(Y/N), I never want you to be scared of me. You can tell me anything. I'll still love you all the same," He tried to reassure you.

You sniffled, trying to calm down. You apologized for ruining dinner, but Miguel dismissed it. He reassured you once more, and told you to eat. Miguel wanted you to have some energy before telling him anything.

You agreed and ate beside Miguel, still sniffling every now and then. Once finished, you offered to do the dishes, needing some more time to calm down. Miguel said he was going to shower. That gave you some time.

Once dishes were done, you quickly looked through your bag for your pajamas, puzzles and cookies. When Miguel came out of the shower, you proceeded to enter. You grabbed Miguel's hand, slowly bringing him back into the bathroom.

"(Y/N)?"

"I-I was...in a....v-very bad relationship...b-before. Which, which is why I'm s-so scared...I-I really...really...like you Miguel. I-I want y-you to understand...m-my fear,"

"Of course,"

You closed your eyes as Miguel held your cheeks in his hands. He kissed your forehead, giving you motivation. You hummed lowly and slowly started to take off your clothes.

---------

Miguel watched you, telling himself to relax no matter the outcome. You needed his support, which was something he was not used to giving. His brows furrowed as you took your pants off. There were cuts, scars and a few cigarette marks.

Miguel felt his blood boil. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as your body started to shake. You were gripping the bottom of your shirt, hesitating to pull it up. Miguel almost didn't want you too, but this was for you.

"Lo mataré por ti, mi conejito. (I'll kill him for you, my bunny.)" Miguel whispered as he gave you a deep kiss.

Miguel watched the sparkle in your eyes shine as you made eye contact with him. His hands rested over yours, helping you remove your shirt. Miguel inhaled deeply as he observed your body, which was covered in those marks as well.

"S-Sorry...f-for not being-"

"Beautiful?" Miguel interrupted, needing to change your mindset, "You didn't make these marks, but they don't cover your beauty. (Y/N), I'll get revenge for you, but I need you to love yourself as much I do." He whispered, kissing your hand.

"B-But-"

"You have no idea how much I'm behaving right now. Seeing you shaking in front of me, ready to be devoured."

Miguel chuckled lowly as your face turned bright red. He captured your lips in another kiss before taking your hand and showing you how the shower worked. He smiled, watching you nod and hold his hand tightly.

You were warming up to him, and Miguel liked that. Letting you shower peacefully, Miguel made sure to compliment you once more. He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the dining room, to make sure everything was cleaned.

To his surprise, he saw your cookies. A smile formed against his lips as he placed one in his mouth despite hating sweets. To his surprise, it wasn't too sweet. It felt just right. Feeling his phone buzz, Miguel looked at a text he received from Miles.

'We have a name.'

"Tch," Miguel hissed lowly, calling the kid, "I want more than just a name. I want everything on his fucker. If you guys find him, bring me to me."

"Whoa, guys? It's just me-"

"I can hear Hobie and Peter in the background," Miguel said unamused. Miles laughed awkwardly,

"Okay, fine. Hobie's asking if we can rough him up a bit?"

"No. Leave that to me."

Miguel immediately hung up upon hearing your call. He returned to the bathroom with a grim look on his face. Miguel was going to make sure your ex paid for what he did to you. For damaging his precious future wife.

You belonged to Miguel.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

next chapter <<<Heavy smut

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddies

[jymwahuwu]

Wrote some!! This is the second part of the abo story, you meet your two future Alpha husbands😽😽

part 1

cw: dystopian au, forced breeding policy

You borrow some credit from a friend and save it to a temporary payment card for daily payments. Now your bank account has been frozen by the government - for the hilariously unbelievable reason of not being pregnant beyond the appropriate reproductive age.

You don’t really want to get married, and you’ve criticized and complained about this weird policy on social media in the past. Now you are faced with this situation… There aren’t many options here, and you have to consider marriage and having children. You have no doubt that this government will really force you to be sent to a breeding facility.

News channels have reported that Omega and Beta citizens who repeatedly ignored warnings were sent to breeding facilities and stuck on the wall to wait for thorough breeding and pregnancy. Those citizens who emphasized "reproductive freedom" had their mouths gagged and their hands tied behind their backs. They whimpered and struggled to be stimulated and expanded by dildos, and finally broke and apologized in the water pool.

You-you don’t want to experience…

Before heading out, you circled in front of the mirror and checked your clothes. The two Alphas made an appointment with you to meet and talk in a restaurant. Even though you're dating two people right now, you've only chatted with one of them on the site. He said that the other Alpha believed that marriage and dating had to be discussed in real person. He has a point too. You agreed.

You board a spaceship (no physical currency is required this time, so you breathe a sigh of relief), and check the planned route on the map app to note which station you want to get off the spaceship at. Cheap ships have their downsides. That means the time it takes to travel is doubled, and the number of stations passed is doubled. Tired and shaken along the way, you fell asleep on the spacecraft and finally reached your destination.

After searching for a few minutes, you looked up and were shocked by the decoration of the restaurant. The elegant and luxurious restaurant decoration uses black and purple as the main tone. A foreign song is faintly passed in the air, exuding a quiet and comfortable atmosphere. The Milky Way can be observed in real time outside the window. The sofas and seats for guests are spaced apart and organized. This is very different from the ordinary restaurants you usually go to. Embarrassed, you flipped through the electronic menu in front of the door, wondering if there would be a discount on takeout, and wanted to send a message to them to tell them that they made an appointment at the wrong restaurant. Alas…how are you going to pay for it now…

"Hello, do you have an appointment?" The waiter at the door was filled with a friendly smile. You just feel more pressure. "W-wait, I'll send a message to my friend."

You: I'm here, but wait, is this here? Did I go to the wrong place? 🥹

You: [Restaurant link in the food app]

Aventurine: No, that's right^^ We're already here.

You: okay

As soon as you enter the restaurant, a bouquet of flowers is blocked from view in front of you, the fragrance is overflowing, and the delicate petals are condensed with bright colors and vitality. What's this? You took a step back in fear. A head with blond hair poked out from behind the flowers, with dazzling bright eyes. "Hello, this is a wedding gift." He explained with a smile.

Wedding gift? You were so frightened that your hands trembled, holding a large bouquet of flowers. The flowers are so crowded that they must be leaned on your shoulders.

"Hmm…? Just kidding. This is an engagement gift."

You paused after hearing his explanation. You are not engaged, or even agreed to be engaged to these two Alphas. This must be Aventurine. He was just as flirtatious and cheerful as he sounded on the Internet, sitting down and placing the bouquet in your hand back in its place. Sitting next to him was a man with a frown. "I've had enough of your peacocking. It's so grandiose."

"Ah, of course the more expensive the gift, the better. Everyone's feelings can be reflected in it, right?"

"Hello, I'm Veritas Ratio." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded to you.

[cherrycola27]

A Favor Among Friends

Masterlist Next Part

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, historical inaccuracies. Regency era men and ideals. Eventual Smut. RegencyEra!AU Banner Credit @thedroneranger

...........................................

Part 1: The First Ball of the Season

Dearest Reader,

I am sure you, just like I am, are buzzing about the upcoming social season. This year's marriage mart is filled with the cream of the crop and overflowing with perfectly beautiful ladies and perfectly handsome gentlemen.

This narrator is excited to see what matches are made this year.

But before the first ball of the season, I hope you all place your bets as to which ladies will find success and which will be left broken hearted.

All eyes this year, seem to be on the house of Lord and Lady Beaumont. At the ripe age of six-and-twenty, their daughter, Miss Y/N Beaumont, enters her fourth social season without a husband. With het older sister being the Dutchess of Miramar, and her older brother set to inherent the family title, one can only wonder why Miss Beaumont has yet to secure a match, and what her family plans to do if she fails again this season.

However, it seems there will be some excitement that many young ladies, and their mamas can look foward too.

After an extended period away in the Americas, this narrator is thrilled to report that the Viscount Bradley Bradshaw has returned to London in hopes to take a wife this season. The only question is, who will be the lucky lady that will catch his eye?

...........................................

"Isn't it wonderful to be back in London?" Your mother chirped from the carriage. "Yes, quite wonderful." You responded, not taking your eyes away from the passing landscape. You sighed.

You dreaded being back in London. You already knew that people would be whispering about you in hushed corners. Girls would giggle and cover their smirks as you walked by, a buzz about that fact that you were old, and still unwed.

It's not that you didn't want to marry. You just didn't want to make the wrong choice. You wanted someone who was kind and valued you as more than a body to carry a child. You wanted someone who liked your wit and charm and appreciated the many talents you had.

"Darling." Your mother called, snapping you out of your trance.

"Hmm?" You hummed back as you turned to face her and your father.

"I asked if you enjoyed your time in Miramar with your sister and the Duke?" Your mother repeated. "Yes, Mama, it was absolutely splendid. William, Micheal, and Violet have grown so much since you've seen them last." You beamed as you talked about your niece and nephews.

You had spent several months helping your sister tend to them while she looked for a governess. It had truly been a splendid time, and you wished you had been able to say forever. But, your parents insisted you come home.

"Wonderful." Your mother smiled before her expression turned more serious. "Y/N, there is something your father and I must discuss with you."

"What?" You asked her. "We know that you have had some difficulties securing a match. It is very noble for you to hold out for love, but sometimes, one must forego love and find a sensible match." Your mother began.

"What do you mean?" You say. "What I mean is—" she sighs. "Your sister is a Dutchess. Your brother will inherit the estate, and you— you will have nothing. And I know Eddie would never let you go without, but darling, your father and I want to know you will be taken care of once we are gone." She tells you.

"Eddie and Clarissa would make sure I'm taken care of. So would Marianne and George." You say.

"We know they would." Your father speaks up finally. "But it is not their job. That is the job of a husband. Which is why your mother and I have decided that if you do not secure a match by the end of the season, we will find one for you." He states.

"What?" You shriek. "An arranged marriage? I will not agree to it." You huff. "You don't have a choice. We love you, but we will not let you tarnish the family name by becoming a spinster!" Your father declares.

You open your mouth to respond, but he shoots you a look that lets you know his mind is made up and that this conversation is over. You sulk into your carriage seat and refuse to look at either of your parents for the remainder of the ride.

............

Your first few days back in London are a flurry of trips to the market, the jeweler, and the modiste. Your mother insists that a new wardrobe will help in your quest to sequester a husband. You're fitted with beautiful drapes of satin and silk and lace for what seems like hours until your mother deems you finished. She does allow you to pick the colors of your garments at least, and so, for the first ball of the season, you choose a deep shade of burgundy. You've always been fond of the color. Even though some would say it's melancholy, you think it's just right. The thought of a dress in that color gives you the tinest bit of hope as you prepare for the season.

..........

Viscount Bradley Bradshaw was not thrilled to be back in London. He would much rather be in the countryside, but he had ignored his estate for too long, and it was now to the point that he could no longer manage on his own. He needed a wife. Someone else to share the burden with.

He didn't need, nor really want, a love match. But he did want someone smart, sensible, kind, and willing to bear his heirs. He wanted someone he could have a conversation with, and that could, at the very least, be his friend.

He'd heard much about the ladies that were available this season, and there seemed to be several promising options. He just hoped he could find someone quickly, have a short courtship, an even shorter engagement, and be married before the meddling mamas sicked their daughters on him.

He ran his hands over his face in the back of his carriage. There were so many things he needed go do this week before the first ball of the season.

He needed to collect a few payments, pay the staffs wages, and head to the tailor. Many of his suits were now too tight in the shoulders. The months he'd spent traveling and made him broader and more muscular than he once was. He couldn't risk being on the dance floor with a potential wife and have his seams bust.

He glanced outside his carriage and saw the parade of ladies and their mothers walking around and gossiping.

"One season, Bradley, you can do this for one season." He whispered to himself before grabbing his journal and writing.

...............

The first ball at the home of Lord and Lady Whittmore came faster than you imagined. It seemed you'd just unpacked your trunk when your ladies' maids came in to help you dress and prepare for the evening.

They tied your corsets and stays, fastened each tiny button, styled your hair into an elegant half up, half down hairstyle, and helped you adorn yourself with a few simple jewels that your mother insisted on.

Standing back from your mirror, you looked every bit the part of an eligible bachelorette. Your deep red dress accentuated your features. The sparkling stones sewn onto it caught the light beautifully.

Your silk gloves elongated your arms, and the garnet necklace and earrings you wore matched your dress perfectly.

Your father smiled warmly, and your mother gasped when you descended the stairs to the foyer where they were waiting for you along with your brother and his wife.

"Y/N! You look most marvelous. Surely you will be the crown jewel of the ball!" Your sister-in-law, Clarissa, gushed as she hugged you.

"Thank you, Clarissa." You smiled at her warmly before your mother ushered everyone out to the carriages. You rode with Eddie and Clarissa to the Whittmore estate, thankful to have a reprieve from your parents talking your ear off about how important it was for you to find a match, and this ball would be your best chance.

The Whittmore estate was lovely when you arrived. Candles lit up the great rooms, lively string music played. There was delicious food and drinks at every corner. Lady Whittmore handed you your dance card, which you quickly secured around your wrist.

Your brother insisted on taking you on a turn about the room, which meant you stopped to talk to several noblemen and had several ask to place their name on your card.

You can't remember half of those you danced with. Just that they would step on your feet or only talk about themselves. Anytime they asked you a question, it was about how many children you wanted and if you knew how to run a house. They didn't care that you were well read, knew three languages, or that you could play the harp. Heirs, and lots of them. That's all they cared about.

After a quatrain with some Lord old enough to be your father, you stepped away from the dance floor in hopes of taking a break and catching your breath. You grabbed a glass of champagne and tried to find a quiet place to sit and have a moment to yourself. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. A large body collided with yours, causing you to trip and spill your drink, and there's all over yourself.

"Oh my goodness! This dress is new!" You shrieked as you frantically tried to dry it with your hankerchief.

"My apologies, Miss. I wasn't watching where I was going." The person who crashed into you said.

"Of course you weren't. You Lords waltz around here with your noses so high in the air that you forget to look down and pay attention." You shot back at them.

There was a moment of silence where you realized that you probably shouldn't have said that. Especially if you wanted to find a husband.

"I'm sor—" you began as you looked up. But once you saw who it was, your words died in your throat.

"Bradley Bradshaw?" You breathed not, not quite believing it was him standing before you. "Ducky? Ducky Beaumont? Is that you?" He asked with a smile.

"No one calls me Ducky anymore, not even Edmond." You say. "Well then, what do they call you?" Bradley asked you.

"Mine name, or Miss Beaumont." You reply. "Miss Beaumont?" Bradley asks you.

"Yes. I am still Miss Beaumont, even though this is my fourth season." You sigh. "Well— I have a had time believing that you of all people struggle with finding a match, Ducky." Bradley smiles at you.

You're just about to correct him again when he suddenly grabs your hand and sweeps you out onto the floor for a waltz. "What was that all about, Lord Bradshaw?" You ask him using his formal title.

"Well, Ducky. There is a young lady who has been pestering me all evening, and I needed to get away from her." Bradley said as he directed your attention to a girl who looked rather annoyed with you.

"Ah, I see." You chuckle. "So, Ducky, tell me, how have you gone four seasons without a husband?" Bradley asks you as the two of you dance.

"It is Miss Beaumont, Lord Bradshaw. We are no longer children, and I am no longer chasing you and my brother around the countryside while our mothers play cards." You say to him. "But, I have simply not been able to find someone who appreciates me and is kind. Everyone only cares about how many children I want and what my dowery is. Not once today have I been asked if I read or if I know another language or if I can play an instrument!" You huff. Bradley chuckles.

"Well, do you read?" He asks you before giving you a spin. "Yes, I read all kinds of books." You reply. "Do you know any other languages?" He asks with a chuckle. "I know three! I speak Spanish, French, and Italian!" You exclaim. "And what about musical instruments? Can you play any?" He smiles at you. "I am most accomplished with the harp." You smile back at him.

"Well, you are very well rounded, Miss Beaumont, certainly interesting." Bradley tells you.

"And you are the only person in this room who knows that. Which is probably why I am on my way to be an old maid at the age of six-and-twenty." You sigh.

"That is not old. I am not much older than that myself. I went to school with your brother, and we are both barely two-and-thirty." Bradley says as the song ends.

"Well, I appreciate the thought. Thank you for the dance, Lord Bradshaw." You say as you curtsey to him.

"No, thank you, Ducky." He smiles and winks at you before bowing and walking away.

You had butterflies in your belly for the rest of the evening. If you were being truthful with yourself, you'd always had feelings for Bradley. Ever since you were a girl, you were captivated by your brother's best friend, always chasing the two of them around your estate, which earned you the nickname he so foundly called you.

You can remember the exact moment you realized your feelings for Bradley weren't platonic. It was when you were fourteen, and he and your brother had come home from their second year at university. The tall, lanky boy you'd spent summers with had filled out into a broad, brawny man.

And even though he was older, Bradley was always kind to you. Which is why it crushed you that he went away the same year you made your debut. You'd always hoped that maybe—just maybe—he would court you.

Maybe that's why you'd never tried too hard to find a suitor because deep down, you were holding out for Bradley. And now, that he's back, you hope that this might be the year that you find a husband.

..............

The next day, you were giddy as calling hours approached. You prayed that if anyone came, it would be Bradley.

When a valet came and said there was a caller for you, you practically leaped from your seat on the sofa, only to be met with disappointment that it was Lord Artenson. He was followed by Lord Phillips, Lord Martin, and Lord Herrington, who was determined to have you as his third wife.

You sighed and resigned yourself to reading a book once Lord Herrington finally left. Calling hours were almost over, and you were silently disappointed that Bradley had not come. But really, it was foolish of you to think that he would. You were his best friend's little sister, practically his own little sister. You were his Ducky, and he would never think of you as anything more.

You were just about to head upstairs to your room and your parents to their own when a valet came in the drawing room.

"Excuse me Lord and Lady Beaumont, it seems there is another visitor here for Miss Beaumont." He spoke.

"Really?" Your father asked. "Who is it?"

"The Viscount Bradshaw."

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @withahappyrefrain

[gugudalala]

pairing: Toji x reader / TojiMMA 

synopsis: Toji MMA with an upcoming match with Sakuna. Y/N a new reporter with a last chance on the job she need Toji help where he offer his help in exchange for sex.

warning: pet names, smut with plot, overtim, squirting, dumbification, size kink, unprotected, praise, ect+++

words: 1964

A/N. English is not my first language if there any mistake plz forgive me. I do not own any of the character or picture (credit to the rightful owner) only the plots are mine. 

Enjoy ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

CH: (1) | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Toji Zenin, a heavyweight MMA fighter. He is not only known for his amazing winning record but also for his sexy, dangerous body and looks that could put down anybody who passes his way. With all the body muscle and his good look no wonder he is so popular. Nobody knows where the scar on his face comes from but that does not stop the increasing number of his fangirls and boys yet, he hates the attention that he receives. 

“Fuck off” he shouted out to the reporter who had crowed him after his match, which of crouse he had won 

“Stop scaring them off” said his manger, as he quickly followed him into the break room leaving the press behind with the help of their bodyguard “They just doing their job, why don’t you enjoy their attention a little more” 

Toji ignores him sitting into the chair relaxing his muscles provided for him by his physical therapist, as they help him cool down his body 

“You know, they’re just excited for your upcoming match. With you fighting one of the MMA legend, how would they ever stay calm” 

“Sukuna, a MMA legend? Funny” 

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Y/N POV

"Listen here and listen well, this is your last chance. You will do an interview with Toji about the upcoming MMA match of Toji Zenin VS Sakuna. Do you understand?!" scream your boss

‘Fuck Toji, fuck the MMA’ you mentaly curse as you drink down another glass of whiskey. Becoming a reporter had always been your dream, however the only kinds of news that had your interest were about crimes. Mystery and thriller which was your favorite, not some celebrity life. Yet, the crimes had been decreasing and there was nothing for you to make a living off

‘Not sure if I should be happy or sad about it’ you thought as you asked for another glass. Looking over you just happen to notice that there was a man sitting 3 seats away from you. You can’t recall when the man came by. However, that does not matter now when all you want to do is to forget your boss

Looking over to that man all you can tell is that he might be loaded as he dresses so comfortably for these luxury bars. With a tight black shirt and gray sweatpants. With all of his muscles that are hugging his shirt. You could not tell if the shirt is too small or his muscles too big. ‘Must be the latter’ you taught to yourself  

“Like what you see?” said the man as you realize that you’re caught from staring at him

“Not much to see” you lied as you look away blushing from the embarrassment from getting caught

A light laugh leaves his mouth as move toward the seat beside you and leans on his palm facing you. Seeing his face close up all you can say is that he is handsome- too handsome for your little heart. With a scar on his mouth you can't help but to let that little thriller heart of your run free

“Your face is red” he smirk 

“I drank a lot tonight” you replied holding onto your glass tighter looking forward not wanting to face him 

“Hmm” he slowing reach his hand out to you with one of his finger touching your ear dragging down to your neck pass your shoulder to the collar of your shirt  “it all red” his eyes never leaving you

“Oh” is all that you can reply hoping that he would not hear how hard your heart is pounding 

“Where does it end?” he asked with a smug. As his finger traces upward back to your ear. You knowing full well of what will happen next based on your answer 

‘A night won’t hurt’ you thought, losing your mind into the alcohol. “Want to see it out yourself?” You asked him now facing him and by the time you know it you were already in one of the hotel rooms. Him being all over you, kissing harshly as you were pushed against the wall

You felt dizzy, as he hungrily kissed you as he bit into your bottom lip. You parted your lips allowing him to kiss you deeper with his hand onto the back of your neck holding your face upward toward him as he pressed himself between your legs. Never in your life had been kissed like this before and as he pull away leaving small kiss around your face to your ear as he whisper ‘get on the bed’

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You both move toward the bed, walking backward following his lead with his mouth never leaving you. Once on the bed with his body on top of you leaving a small kiss along the side of your neck down to your breast. He unbuttons your shirt, pants, and undergarment, throwing them away leaving you naked. He sat up while scanning your body from top to bottom with only the bedside lamp as your light source. A small smile formed on his mouth “it's all red” he smirked as his strong hand held onto one of your breasts playing with your nipple as he blended down to suck on another. He smiles as he hears you whimper, his hand reaching down playing with your clit. A moan escaped your mouth as his finger entered you. Lewd squelching sound filled up the room as he hit all the right spots in you. Your moan became louder as your stomach tighten almost reaching your climax 

“Gonna cum on my finger? Show me how you cum, little one” with him fingering you faster helping you reach your climax. He help you ride it down your hand reaching out grabbing his shirt 

“Take it off” you plead. So he did, finger leaving you hanging wanting for more and within a second his shirt was off thrown away leaving him only in his sweatpant. Him standing on his knee above you, the little light helps define all his muscles and you take your time scanning him from the top only to stop at the bulging on his sweatpant. You hand reach out to touch it as you sit right up and you can’t help but to pull down his pants freeing his dick only for it to hit your face. You were stunned at how huge he was, worrying if you could even handle it. Before you could say a word he pushed you onto your back with one leg in his arm over his shoulder. Feeling his tip rubbing your fold “Such a sweet little thing for me” he teased  

“Are you on pill” he asked “yes” and with that he slowly sank in stretching you out. You moan out as you feel every inch of him entering you. “Fuck, so tight” he moan as he pull out just to push right back in. You suck in a shaky breath never once you had anything that big in you. “Too big” you murmur, lip trembling. He picks up his speed and pounds right into you. Burying it so deep and thrusting fast and rough. “I’m go-gonna” You whine as you climax for the second time of the night. Drunk on pleasure, you didn’t notice that he slowly positioned you into the matting press with your two legs up on both of his arms. 

“Think you can handle me more” he ask. Looking to where you both connected only to find out that he is only half way in- all this time. “W-wait” before you could reply he already sank himself deeper into you hitting your cervix. Your mouth pops open with a gasp taking him in more and more. “You feel that, taking me so-so well” he praised as he was pounding harder and deeper than before. With every thrust he hits your cervix you can’t help but to cry out of pleasure. “I can’t- no more-“ you cried. “Shhh, you can and you well” he shushes you, as he bent down kissing you. You never had sex this intense in your life before, the amount of pleasure you felt scare you. “W-wait some-something coming, I feel strange” you cried as you tried to move away from him yet with his strong arm he was able to hold you down. Now you're back facing him with you in all four. His arm is holding onto your side forcing you down onto him as he continues trust into you. 

“Go on then, make a mess” one of his hands reaching down, playing with your swollen clit. Your core tightens as you reach your high, leaking all over the sheet beneath you. Screaming with your eyes roll back from the intense pleasure. “Fuck” he groans seeing you squirt all over. “Good girl” trusting faster, reaching his own climax coming inside you. Before you can even catch your breath he flips you over, now facing him with him in between your legs. Looking at his face, his eyes dazed in pleasure with a smug expression and his hand stroked his once again hard on “Again” he demanded while looking at you “cum like that for me again” he positioned himself right at your entrance. “Hmmm” you moan back too tired to form a word, feeling him going in-

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

*buzz-buzz buzz-buzz*

You woke up to your phone ringing. Reaching out you receive the call "Y/N! Finally the phone went through, I just received mail from the team that you are allowed to go in for a quick photo of the gym today. Meet them at their gym at 2 and take this as your chance and meet up with the coach to get closer to Toji-san. I will send the location of the gym to your mail. Don't forget this is your last chance" your boss ended the call

'Fuck' you mentally curse sitting up you look around to see the other side of the bed empty- no note, no men cloths, nothing. You recall the night before which was the most intense sex you ever had and which you had enjoyed thoroughly. Hell, you never knew that sex can be that extreme and with the guy whom you never get the chance to know his name

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Looking in front of you is the so-called gym that your boss forces you to come to. You had gone home, got dressed and gathered your stuff even with the difficulty of your sore leg and muscle you finally made it to the gym. One of the men came out and greet you

"Hi, you're the reporter right? I'm the coach assistant that will be helping you around today" he introduced himself. He brought you into the gym which can only be accessed by the members of the team. Which he introduces you around through the building, rooms, and the equipment along with some new addition members of the team. Everyone is friendly as they help you along the gym yet you can't help but feel the soreness from last night is getting back through you from walking around.

"-and so this is Toji-san's personal break room" he guides you to the front door "Can't we go in?" you asked. During the tour you were able to access into other member's personal room, so you questioned him. "Sorry, unlike other members Toji-san rooms are off limits. He hated when people come into his room without permission" he answer you with a small awkward smile "Oh, what a jerk"

"That is not what you called me last night" a familiar voice calls you out. A shadow looms over you from behind, turning around looking up you recognize the face- the exact same one that makes you cum over and over oh god how could you ever forget

[villainscharm]

stalled | modern! aemond targaryen x reader

pov : you’re stuck in the elevator at the office with aemond aka your boss who you never talked to.

words count : 1.3k

contents : fluff (?) i don’t feel like there is any romance going on here, maybe the beginning of something ig??? but this is just a short sooooo

modern au. targaryen company theme plot. aemond is your boss but he never speak to you because he’s a dick.

MASTERLIST

He was terrifying — Aemond Targaryen was inevitably terrifying.

His presence, his demeanor, the atmosphere in the room shifted every time he entered.

And now you were stuck with him in this forsaken elevator.

It was a normal morning, you came to your work, scanned your finger and was sent to your task of the day. You’ve been working at the Targaryen company for six months now after graduating from the university, in the creative marketing team. Your work had been fine with many friendly and supportive colleagues in your department, including the CEO’s second daughter, Helaena Targaryen, as well.

Today one of your colleagues who took a sick leave called you and asked for a favor about paperwork. She already finished them but due to her stomach issues, she couldn’t come in to submit her work in time, so she emailed you the file to print and submit for her instead, which you kindly helped out. It was a report on the latest month's sale, so you were supposed to submit them at the office six floors above yours, the 22nd floor. Carrying the documents, you stood in the elevator, listening to the light music playing in the background and mindfully counting the pages in your hands for accuracy.

The gentle ding sound of the elevator alerted you to look up — nineteenth floor — before the door opened, you stepped aside making rooms for the person who was coming in. And then the air got cold.

The door opened, presenting the tall silver-haired man as he entered — Aemond Targaryen, the fourth child of the CEO Viserys Targaryen and his second wife, Alicent Hightower, who worked in human resources.

He was your director in creative marketing.

Also a dickhead.

“Mister Targaryen,” you greeted politely with a smile, which he ignored. You were tempted not to pull out your phone and complain about it to your secret social media account— not that you haven’t done it before. You took a quick glance at him, he was on his phone with his one-eye facing to your side, easier for you to study him closely for the first time. You met Aemond only a couple of times, first was at your job interview, he didn’t interview you though, only popping in to chat with his mother in the room. Miss Alicent tried to introduce you to him but he paid no mind and left, leaving you feeling awkward and self-conscious. The second time was in the meeting of the upcoming project, he was present but didn’t talk to anyone, well, if you count saying ‘hmm’ and ‘no’ as talking then it was.

Aemond was only a few years older than you, but you swore he acted like a forty year old man at work. The way he spoke, the way he sat — no wonder everyone feared him more than his older brother Aegon. Out of everyone in this family, Aemond seemed to be absent most times. His sister, Helaena once told you that he preferred working from home than being in the office. ‘He doesn’t like people very much. What’s it called again, antisocial?’

Sociopath, more like.

But when he was present, he often wore a casual outfit instead of suit and uniform, with an eyepatch covering his one-eye, of course. It was a known lore of how Aemond lost his eye, an accident during a family vacation, news spread all over the media.

Though missing one eye, Aemond remained devilishly handsome.

You inhaled, only three floors to go. Your eyes glued to the tiny monitor showing the number of each floor as it went on, as if staring at it intensely would help the elevator move faster.

19

20

21

and… THUD!

“Shit!” you cursed as the elevator suddenly stopped in its place, making your body lose its balance and stumble backward, almost hitting the wall. You look at the tiny monitor, it stopped at 21, but your guts told you that they were in between 22 as well.

You glanced at Aemond, who seemed to be startled as well, but remained calmly anyway. Hugging your documents tightly to your chest, your finger reached forward to press the button to open the door but nothing happened.

You pressed them again, and again still nothing.

“It’s not gonna open,” it was Aemond who spoke first, his voice was stern and calm, way too calm that it was making you panic, it was also the first time you heard him speak. You looked at him confused before he flipped his phone to your sight. You squinted your eyes looking at the screen, it was a message from the security service, informing them of the issue coming from the control panel, causing the elevator to stalled.

You sighed, leaning your back against the wall, thankfully the light didn’t go off, that would be a nightmare. “How long is it gonna be like this?” you asked, taking a quick glance at the watch on your wrist. Aemond hummed before replied, “Uncertain, should be some time. Hopefully not too long.”

You didn’t try to hide the eye roll as you groaned, at this point you shouldn’t care. Aemond then reached his hand forward, pressing the emergency button to alarm the people in the control room. The air was thick and filled with awkwardness, until Aemond broke the silence again.

“You look stressed,” he remarked. Of course you were stressed, your colleague asked you to help her out and now you were stuck in the elevator submitting her work late. “I have documents to submit in time. Obviously not gonna happen,” you replied, avoiding his eye contact.

“Applications?” he guessed, eyeing the documents in her hands. You turned your head to him instantly, blinking in disbelief, but when you realized how rude it must’ve looked, you played it out with a forced chuckle.

“I've been here for six months,” offense hid in your tone, your brows knitting together. Purposely leaving the part where you were supposed to address him as Mister Targaryen or sir.

Aemond hummed, “Receptionist?” wrong answer bastard.

“Creative marketing, your department,” What a dick. Forcing a smile, your blunt answer with the emphasis on the word ‘your’ made him raise an eyebrow in response. “Sir,” you finished, a poor attempt.

“But that’s the sales report,” Aemond noticed, he could see the heading of the documents in your arms clearly as he stood tall next to you. Though not too close, you could still smell his expensive cologne. Yves Saint Laurent — you guessed, he didn’t seem like a Calvin Klein type of guy, maybe Dior Sauvage? but who wasn’t a Dior Sauvage type of guy anyway.

“Floris took a sick leave. I’m just helping her out,” you offered him a softer tone this time, trying to gain some appreciation from him. But to your disappointment, the bastard hummed.

“I also work with Helaena, your sister. She’s excellent,” you tried to break the awkwardness, nothing a little small talk couldn’t fix. “Yes, she is,” not even a small talk could fix him, you couldn’t wait to get out of here. But to your surprise, Aemond added, “She mentioned you before. You came up with the campaign for the last month project,” it wasn’t a question but a fact, because Aemond knew. His tone was softer and approved. You thought he had no idea you existed but apparently you were wrong.

“Yes, I’m glad it helped to increase the sales,” you suppressed your smile, feeling proud and appreciated from the way Aemond addressed you. He hummed again, this time instead of infuriated, you felt your cheeks burned.

You two spent the next ten minutes standing in the elevator in silence before it eventually moved again, finally stopping at the 22nd floor. You sighed with relief because you were certain you would get claustrophobic if stood in there any longer. You stepped out finally, but before the elevator door closed, you heard Aemond called out your name from behind.

“I’ll see you later at the office.”

[dyns33]

The Big Cat

It was difficult but I wrote for Miguel O Hara ! Took me weeks, and I’ll try again, but I don”t know why, it’s super hard to write about him. 

It was mainly to laugh and annoy him that Y/N was saying that Miguel was more like a cat than a spider.

It was also somewhat true.

Between his fangs, claws, heels, and demeanor, the leader of the Spider Society often looked like a big cat. Grumpy, territorial, asocial.

When he wasn't out in the field shutting down an anomaly, he stayed in his office, growling when someone came uninvited, and even when they were invited. 

It was hard to be close to him, but many of them tried. Some managed it, a bit, like Jess and Peter. Y/N too according to them, although she wasn't always sure.

 She remained hopeful, telling herself that if she really bothered him, he would have sent her back to her dimension a long time ago.

Even when she stood against him during the Miles affair, she was the only one not to be sent back to her universe. He didn't change his mind, but he listened to her, mumbling and sighing, because she didn't understand anything, but he didn't yell at her, he didn't threaten her, and she wasn't thrown into a portal. 

But maybe he hadn't done it yet because he wasn't cruel. Y/N had no one in her dimension. People didn't like her, they saw her as a criminal, she had no friends, her crush (whom she hadn't even held hands once) had died falling from a roof.

The spider society was the best thing that had happened to her, and without her being able to explain why, she really wanted to be close to Miguel, the big cat.

Y/N wondered if it was irony when it was she who was turned into a cat by an anomaly. She had barely had time to teleport to HQ and now she was meowing desperately through the halls, trying to find someone who could help her.

Of course, it had to be the big cat.

It was always difficult to know what Miguel was thinking. He spoke little, and his face didn't often show emotion, except when he was angry. Very angry.

Regarding the animals, it was also difficult to know what he thought of them. There were Animal Spiders, but it wasn't the same. He treated Ham, Spider-cat and T-rex with respect, talking to them as if they were human.

Real animals were different.

     "Hola." he said calmly, with his monotonous tone, approaching her. "Are you lost, little thing ?"

     "Meow !" was the only answer Y/N could give him.

     "Don't be afraid, amor. How did you get in here?  Someone took you ? Well, whatever. You must be thirsty. Come with me."

Y/N had already seen Miguel with Peter's baby, and some children during missions. She knew he could be sweet. But he had never been like this with her, so it was a surprise to find herself in his arms.

He carried her to his office, where he offered her some water, before putting her on his lap and stroking her head. Dreamy. Y/N couldn't help purring. Eyes closed, enjoying the feeling, she didn't see him smile. Miguel never smiled.

     "Lyla." he said pressing down on his computer. "Find out whose cat this is and how it got into HQ."

     "I'm waiting."

     "... Please."

     "Right away, boss !"

As his virtual assistant disappeared to complete her task, Miguel continued to pat her head while concentrating on the screens of his many computers.

Most of them showed universes where certain anomalies had been reported, and which he watched very carefully. Others from the universes of spiders who had caused problems, like Miles, or who needed to rest, like Jess. There were images of a variant of Miguel with a little girl. And there was a screen with Y/N.

She stared at it, suddenly stopping purring, surprised to see herself here and not understanding why.

Like the big cat that he was, Miguel took note, looking down at her.

     "What ? Do you want something, amor ?"

     "Meow !"

     “Hmm. Oh, her ? A nuisance, don't worry."

     "You mean your tu pequeño favorito, tu dulce sueño, tu..."

     "Lyla !" Miguel growled, waving his hand to blur the apparition, which made her laugh even more. "Shut up."

     "Okay, I won't say anything about your secret. And I couldn't find anything on the cat, the cameras had a weird reception problem, and then we can see it hanging around the halls."

     "It's not normal, find the reason for this concern. And... I don't want any comment, but I thought that Y/N had to take care of an anomaly. It's been several hours, she doesn't didn't send in her report. Did she come back ?"

     "I think so ? Her watch beeped in this dimension. I'm inquiring, boss ! Don't panic, I'm sure your querida isn't far."

     "Callate, idiota !"

Sometimes Peter B. annoyed everyone by saying that his daughter had magical powers and that holding her in your arms made it possible not to get upset.

Y/N could now tell that her cat version had managed to contain Miguel, who was flushed with rage, visibly ready to destroy everything around him and yell at Lyla, but just breathed very hard, gently holding her against him.

     "I'm sorry, amor... It's fine." he reassured her by patting her neck. "It's just... I'm tired."

There were some things Lyla had said that had troubled Y/N, but the tall spiderman's sad look caught her full attention. She had never seen him like this.

There had been the story of the dimension he had destroyed. Moments when he stared into space. The huge Morales disaster, when some wondered if the spider society still had a reason to exist if their leader made so many mistakes.

Luckily, the majority had come to Miguel's defense, because as spiders they had all made mistakes, lots of mistakes, always thinking they were making the right decision and wanting to do good. Y/N was one of those.

Their support had seemed to please Miguel, even if he had hesitated to give up his place and go into exile. Since then, he had made efforts, he had been more careful.

Even if he continued to behave like an aggressive and grumpy feline with the younger ones who hurt themselves a little too much, and with Y/N who loved to tease him, and who also hurt herself a bit, sometimes.

     "Meow." she said, rubbing her nose against Miguel's face, which brought up a sad smile.

     "Thank you, mi amor. that's nice. I thought after Morales... But there are always anomalies. Always worlds to save. And always... Why can't she pay attention ? It's although she protects the little ones, like she protected Miles. She was right, I should have listened to her, but I couldn't risk destroying the entire multiverse for one man if she was wrong."

     "I know, you already told me." tried to say Y/N. "Except that you were wrong, you never really said it, because you're too proud."

     "Exactly. I knew you would understand. I didn't want to hurt the kid, or anyone. It was a shock when I saw his dad get up and everything was fine. So I thought I could... We could... But no, it's still too risky. And I don't think she'll want to. But she could at least take care of her own safety ! Mierda ! I've already lost... Everyone I love die. I don't want this to happen to her. I'm tired, amor. So tired."

Since he hadn't said her name, Y/N wondered if he was still talking about her, because she found it hard to believe that Miguel O'Hara, big lonely cat, was talking about love, and especially the love he felt for her.

If she teased him so often and wanted to be close to him, it wasn't because she was sociable. It was for another reason that seemed ridiculous and stupid. Until now.

Without realizing it, she had started to purr again, clinging to his neck. That seemed to help him a bit, as Miguel stopped shaking, caressing her and muttering a few words in Spanish.

It worked, until Lyla came back.

     "Uh... Boss ?"

     "What ?" Miguel muttered, keeping his face in Y/N's fur.

     "Uh... No one knows where Y/N is."

     "... What ?"

     "Her watch beeped here, but we can't track it. No trace of her, no one saw her. The anomaly she was supposed to capture was attached, but not brought back."

     "No. No no no !"

This time the cat was forgotten, placed on the desk for Miguel to get up quickly and run around the building, not knowing that the person he was looking for had been on his lap for almost an hour. And Y/N had no way to make it clear to him, not having her powers to follow him, and Spidercat not being there to do the translation.

She wandered all the same in the corridors of the Spider society, crossing several spiders which caressed her all the head before continuing to seek her.

At the end of the day, they all gathered in the cafeteria, Miguel in the middle, mumbling, shaking, rubbing his eyes trying to stay calm.

     "... No one found her ?"

     "No." replied Peter B., touching his shoulder. "Gwen, Miles, Hobbie and Pav went to town. Jess and Ben looked into other dimensions. I searched the whole building with the others."

     "... But her watch is there. The anomaly was captured and unconscious. If she... Where is she ? Peter, where is she ?!"

     "Calm down, Miggie. Y/N is gifted, smart and strong. I'm sure she's fine."

     "What if she's not fine ?!" Miguel shouted, baring his fangs. "If she's hurt, or worse ?! I shouldn't have sent her on a mission alone ! I should have..."

     "Do you want to hold Mayday ? It would be nice if you held Mayday."

     "I don't want to hold your baby, estúpido, I want to find Y/N ! Where's Y/N ?!"

     "Meow."

All the spiders then looked at Y/N, who had sat by Miguel's feet and was staring at him, purring. At first they thought it was cute. Then they wondered how a cat had entered the building.

And then, Miguel the first, they understood.

     "... Y/N ?"

Normally, Miguel would have been reassured, while completely panicked by realizing that he had said a lot of things to Y/N in passing that she was a cat, and he would have gone and locked himself in his office asking Jess to find a solution, unable to face the situation.

It was a surprise for Y/N to find herself back in his arms, the big cat hugging her tenderly, caressing her neck and holding back what looked like sobs.

     "Amor, I believed... I believed... Never do that again."

Throughout all the examinations and searches for a solution, he held her against his chest, growling when someone tried to take her from him.

It didn't take long for Lyla to figure out how the anomaly had transformed Y/N, and how to return her to her normal form. It was then that Miguel went to hide in his office, refusing to see anyone. Especially Y/N.

The big shy cat was sulking again in his corner.

Luckily, thanks to Hobbie, Y/N knew how to get in without being spotted. Very useful for pranking and annoying the boss. Very useful also to force him to have a discussion about his feelings.

     "Hi Mig !"

     "… What do you want ? Give me your report on your last mission ?" he asked without turning around.

     "Oh, that. Yes, why not ? So, I found the anomaly, I caught it, but they turned me into a cat, I ended up in the spider society where a big sulky cat took good care me, because he has a soft heart under his muscles, and he loves me very much."

Y/N smiled then, waiting for a reaction, but nothing. Miguel continued to stare at his screens, showing no sign of annoyance or anger. She then guessed the face he was making. She jumped on the platform, near him.

Contrary to what she had thought, he did not move. He didn't hide his moist eyes, his sad and broken expression. He stood there, waiting for her to laugh at him and tell him that he was stupid, that he had made another mistake, that he had no right to be happy, to have someone, because anyway as soon as he loved someone, that person was hurt.

     "And I love that ridiculous big cat a lot too. Lyla has found a cure, I'm me again and hopefully the big cat will come out of his den to come and have a coffee with me at the cafeteria ?"

This time, Miguel turned a little towards her, looking lost.

     "... End of the report ? Happy ? We did a great job, it really deserves a coffee."

     "Y/N..."

     "For real. Great teamwork. We'll have to do this again. Well, not the part where I'm transformed, nor the part where you're scared because you thinl that I'm dead, but the long talk about feelings, the hugs, the purrs. It was mostly me, but I'm pretty sure you were purring too at some point."

     "Y/N."

     "I understood what you were scared of, and I guess I was scared of the same thing, and that's why you're avoiding me, and I wasn't trying to be more than your friend, but actually..."

     "If I say yes to coffee, will you stop talking so much ?"

     "No. Maybe. I do talk when I'm drinking, but it's rare, and I'm a bit cold afterwards because my clothes are wet. It's difficult to talk and drink at the same time."

Miguel sighed, frowning at his eyes, as he often did, but Y/N saw that he was hiding a small smile behind his hand.

He agreed to follow her to the cafeteria, where he sat across from her to watch her drink her coffee and listen to her talk over and over. The other spiders were intrigued, because the boss never came to the cafeteria.

Peter B. took a photo, because according to him it was important to have memories of the first date.

     "It's not a date." muttered Miguel.

     "My heart is bleeding, Mig. Ouch. I thought we had something special."

     "It's just a coffee. For our first date, we'll go to the best restaurant in Nueva York, not the tower."

     "Aaaaw, Miggie."

     "I have pictures of Miguel holding cat Y/N."

Letting Peter take pictures was obviously not a problem for Miguel. But when Miles had finished his sentence, he turned to the young spider, who didn't seem to see the problem.

     "What ? That was so cute ! It looked like a cat daddy with his baby cat !"

     "I agree. I have pictures too." Lyla said as she appeared near the kid. "A lot."

     "... Erase them."

     "Send them to me." said almost all the other spiders at the same time. 

     "Morales."

     "It's sent !"

     "Miguel, don't start chasing the kid again !" Peter shouted as he followed them down the halls.

Y/N let them, knowing that Miguel wouldn't hurt Miles. He was only furious that evidence of his vulnerable side existed, because like cats, he was proud and stupid. So she finished her coffee waiting for him to come back to shyly ask her when they could go on their real first date.

[sommerflue-22]

Hi! I just read starting over and I'm kicking my legs rn!! Anyway, I wanna request something where the hashiras are hanging out, (which is very rare, so according to Mitsuri, a hashira not coming is a no) but Mui decides to ditch them and cuddle with reader under the shade. Then the hashiras went to go find him but instead they find reader and him cuddling. Oh, they're in a secret relationship btw, so yeah, wonder how that'll go.

Thank you❤️

A/n: such a cute prompt i'm combusting >.< sorry for the long wait, i got caught up with uni stuff T^T i hope you like this :D

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Under the Cherry Blossom | Muichiro Tokito

Featuring: Muichiro Tokito, Shinobu Kocho, Mitsuri Kanroji, Obanai Iguro, mention of other Hashira

Content Warning: gn!reader, reader lives in the Butterfly Mansion, reader is a year older than Muichiro, fluff, mention of death, secret relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

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Usually, the Hashira never really got together after their meetings. They always had patrols, emergency missions to go to, or reports to write. So when Tengen's half-drunk ass suggested to Kyojuro for the Hashira to hang out, and after Kyojuro took the initiative to coordinate the whole thing ("It's a good morale booster!"), the pillars gathered for lunch. Kyojuro had reserved a private room in one of the most popular restaurants in the area.

However, Kyojuro realized that there were only eight of them.

"Wait a minute, where is Tokito?"

"Oh no!" Mitsuri exclaimed. "Is it possible that he forgot about this gathering?"

"There's no way he forgot. I wrote the details with semi-permanent marker on his hand," Shinobu said. "Though, I did see him walking to the opposite direction when we left the headquarter."

"He likes that small park nearby, doesn't he?" Obanai piped in.

"Maybe he did forget. We should go get him!" Mitsuri stood up from her seat and hurried to leave the restaurant, Obanai following closely right behind her.

༻❁༺

You closed your eyes and inhaled the spring air. The scent of cherry blossom was pleasant, and the sun was shining but not scorching hot. Such a perfect day to sit back and relax. You were lost in your thoughts, enjoying the nice weather, when a finger suddenly prodded your cheek gently.

"What's wrong, Mui?" You smiled, eyes still closed.

"Hmm," he mumbled, "You're sleeping?"

"No, I'm not. Why?" You finally opened your eyes and was immediately greeted by Muichiro's face, only a few inches away from yours.

Muichiro tilted his head and leaned back into his original position, arms around your torso and his head rested on your shoulder.

You cooed at him and caressed his cheek. It's one of your most favorite thing about Muichiro, his soft cheeks. You remember the first time he let you touch them, how you felt so warm and fuzzy all over your body.

You've always adored Muichiro ever since you first saw him in the Butterfly Mansion. You were assigned to take care of him when he came back from a mission. Every day for almost three weeks, you delivered his meals, changed his bandages, gave him his medicines. He never started a conversation, but one day you entered his room and he stared at you with wide eyes.

"You... Do I know you?"

You were aware of his memory loss, so you answered him kindly. "Yes, I always bring you food and medicines."

"...Deer."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're like a deer."

You didn't quite understand what he meant, so you just continued to give him his meds and talked about the weather outside.

Muichiro often visited the Butterfly Mansion for his check-ups with Shinobu. You weren't always around, busy doing your chores. So, you were really intrigued (as well as Shinobu) because apparently Muichiro often asked where you were. Muichiro didn't know your name so he referred you as "Deer Nurse". Everyone knew you were assigned to be Muichiro's caretaker, so they knew who he was referring to. (Shinobu ended up telling him your name, because he wouldn't stop calling you Deer Nurse).

Eventually, you started waiting for his visits. Every time he's in the Mansion, you dropped whatever chores you had and stopped by to greet him.

"Hello, Muichiro-san!" "Nice weather, isn't it, Muichiro-san?" "How did your last mission go, Muichiro-san?"

You called him Muichiro-san even though he's a year younger than you, out of respect. He didn't react much to your cheerful remarks, but he did answer them.

"Hello, (Y/N)." "It's too sunny." "Huh... I don't know..."

Sitting under the tree had been one of things you started doing after knowing Muichiro. One day you found him under a tree, sleeping as he waited for Shinobu to finish her other business. You curiously sat close next to him, muttering 'good afternoon, Muichiro-san' and accompanied him. He woke up surprised. Not only he didn't sense you coming closer in his sleep, his head was also on your shoulder. You assured him it was fine and you just wanted to keep him company. Muichiro didn't react much, but his mind was racing. He didn't understand why he wasn't aware of your presence in his sleep, why he was leaning on you, why he remembered your face, why he even remembered your name...

...why he wanted to see you every time he's in the Mansion.

Muichiro didn't understand that he was having a tiny crush on you. What started as a tiny crush began growing, getting bigger and bigger. Because you were always there for him, waiting for him with a smile, eager to tell him about things you did or learned while he's away. He didn't understand why his heart was beating fast every time you're around. He noticed those things and reported this to Shinobu.

"...I think I'm going to die."

"What made you think that way?" Shinobu asked.

"My heart races faster than it usually does... and I'm sweaty."

"Do those symptoms occur almost every day?"

"...no, only when I'm..." His eyes widened before he could finish his sentence. Shinobu quickly picked up what caused the young pillar to come to her today, despite not having a check-up appointment.

"Yes, Tokito-kun?"

"...I have to go..."

"Sure. I believe (Y/N) is hanging the laundry outside."

Muichiro didn't even bother to say anything to Shinobu, he just bolted outside her office and made his way to you.

You were hanging the last two sheets that you just washed, thinking about the next chores you were supposed to do. It had been cloudy the past few days, and you just hoped it wouldn't rain that day.

A small, slim hand grabbed your elbow and you yelped in shock.

"W-what..."

"(Y/N), I think like you."

You tilted your head to one side, Muichiro followed. "Muichiro... san?"

"Do you like me?"

Your face turned red. Did you like him? You actually asked yourself that question, again and again. Did you actually like Muichiro? If you're being honest with yourself, you did. That's why you always made time to see him whenever he's visiting the Mansion. That's also why you decided to sit next to him that one time, under the tree when he was taking a nap. However you weren't quite sure, mainly because of two things:

One, you didn't know if he's actually ready for a relationship, considering his job and his memory loss. You thought it could be quite difficult, dating Muichiro. He might not know what to do, he might even forgot that he's dating you. You weren't sure if you're patient enough for that.

Two, you didn't want to lose him. You were aware of his position as one of the pillars. You were aware of how dangerous this job was. You had witnessed many lifeless body brought to the mansion, either for autopsy or for getting cleaned up before the coffin was sent to their family's homes. You didn't want to open a coffin one day and saw the person you've loved and cherished the most lying inside it.

But staring right into his wide eyes, knowing that he meant what he said, all of your doubts and fears were washed away. Muichiro had became an important part of your life in just a few months. He remembered your name, remembered a few things about you, remembered a few things that you liked. Little did you know, he remembered more things about you than he did with anyone else.

"I... do like you."

Muichiro didn't say anything. Instead, he lift his hands, reaching out to cup your face. His eyes were still wide open as he traced his thumbs on your cheek.

"My heart... it's beating faster again."

You chuckled, "Are you happy, Muichiro-san?"

"I think so..."

You knew he probably wasn't familiar with the feeling, so you just smiled. "Can I hug you, then? My heart is also beating faster."

"Yes."

You slowly pulled him into a hug, giving him the time if he wanted to pull away. But Muichiro didn't move, he let you engulfed him in a warm embrace. You could feel his heart beating fast and so could he.

"Does this mean you're mine, (Y/N)?"

"If that's what you really want."

"I want you."

"Then, I'm yours."

"What are you thinking about?"

You snapped out of your thoughts, reminiscing the day Muichiro kind of asked you out.

"Nothing," you answered, looking down to his mint orbs. "It's been a year since you asked me out, Mui."

"Oh... really?" He hummed. "I didn't know..."

"Well, now you know." You pecked his forehead. "I'm happy you did, Mui."

"...You are?"

"Yeah, I'm happy being with you." You hugged him even tighter. "Not gonna lie, I wasn't happy when you said you want to keep our relationship a secret. But, I know that you're just trying to keep us safe."

Muichiro sighed and buried his face on your chest. "One day."

"Hmm? What was that?"

"One day we will live together."

"Ah..."

You couldn't help but imagining a brighter future. No demon, no more fighting. You could maybe get a comfortable, little house on the mountain with Muichiro. Maybe his memory would improve, maybe he'd remember your anniversary date and bought delicious food from the town nearby.

"Yeah, we'll live together."

Muichiro hummed and sighed, content with the warmth of your embrace. "I like you, (Y/N)."

"I like you too, Mui."

Maybe it's too early for the two of you to say the word "love", but it's okay. You still have a long way to go.

Unbeknownst to you and Muichiro, two figures watched from afar as the two of you held each other close under the cherry blossom. Mitsuri was covering her mouth with her hands, trying so hard to suppress a squeal. Meanwhile, Obanai stood next to her, his usually sharp eyes grew soft at the sight of you two. So young and full of love.

"Good for him." He murmured. He really hoped the two of you make it until the end.

"Iguro-san, what should we do? They're so cute... but the lunch!" Mitsuri clutched his striped haori. "Oh, but they're so precious... I think they're asleep..."

Obanai turned around and started walking away. "Let them be. I don't think the kid would want to leave, anyway."

Mitsuri finally squealed once they were far enough from the two of you. "I wanna cry, Iguro-san! They're so lovely! What are we going to say to the others, though?"

"...Just tell them we couldn't find Tokito."

"Eh?! But we did find him, though..."

"You never heard Tokito mentioning anything about his partner, right?"

"Oh, that's right..."

"He might want to keep it a secret. For their own safety."

"You're right... Oh, I hope nothing but the best for them."

Obanai nodded, "They deserve the best."