#Igor x reader

[the-witty-pen-name]

Little Glimpses

Igor (Anora) x F! Reader

18+ Only Blog - Minors DNI

Warnings: smoking, alcohol consumption, cursing

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes: I have not been able to stop thinking about this man since I saw Anora. I just had little parts of stories in my head so I compiled them into one thing.

Little glimpses into the reader’s relationship with Igor.

Everything on the table shakes when the train passes by. You press your hand down, gently holding onto the crystal ashtray in front of you to stop it from dancing around. Your eyes feel heavy. So you tilt your head back, and rest them for a moment until the disruption subsides. You take a drag of your cigarette and exhale in the direction of the open window next to you- letting the smoke waft outside your small studio. Once everything stills, the only sound is the comforting tick of the clock above your stove. You take one final puff before dropping your butt into the ashtray. You watch it smolder as it slowly burns out. You need to get ready for your shift.

You hate your uniform. The bright blue polo shirt and the stupid matching visor- fucking stupid. You feel like you look like a moron and you’ve always found it embarrassing. You always took off the dumb thing when your manager went home for the night. No one comes in after midnight ever- the occasional drunk but they don’t care if you’re wearing your visor or not.

On the slow nights you read, or sometimes you’ll watch trashy reality TV on your phone. With your elbows perched on the counter, you flip through your most recent romance novel as the time passes. It’s well past 1am and the bright fluorescent lights buzz above you.

“Uh- $40 pump two, please,” a polite voice breaks your concentration. It makes you jump in surprise and you apologize quickly.

“Shit- uh, fuck sorry,” you fumble, quickly placing the book down, opened to keep your page. You take the cash he hands you as he offers a subtle smile.

“No need for apology,” he expresses, and you can now hear his accent- distinctly Russian, or maybe Armenian? You aren’t sure. His voice is soft and comforting- very kind. You’re immediately more at ease. He reads your name aloud from your name tag. It’s infuriating as much as it’s endearing.

“You’re all set,” you offer, suddenly shy. You pass him the receipt after it is printed. He nods, tucking it into his jacket pocket. You watch him walk back outside, the cold air wafting in as the bell above the door rings.

As he waits by the pump, he catches you watching him through the window of the store. When he meets your eye, he’s amused when you immediately look away- trying to play off like you weren’t looking the whole time. He’s flattered, and he can’t help but smile to himself. He’s not used to any sort of attention- he tends to go by unnoticed in his daily life. He can be intimidating when he tries- out of necessity, but that’s not him.

He’s so pretty, you observe, like James McAvoy you settle on. You avert your attention away for the final time and decide to turn back to your book and do your best to ignore the headache that’s developing under the store’s harsh lights.

It’s one of those passing crushes, at first. The kind like when you fall in love temporarily with a stranger across the grocery store. You play out the whole thing in your head to inevitably never approach them, go home, and let the cycle of daydream continue another day with another stranger.

---

You’re freezing as you stand on the sidewalk in the long line that has now wrapped around the block. Your ankles hurt from the height of your heels but they’re too cute not to wear. Your outfit is far too short and shows far too much skin for the night air, but in your defense- you and your friends didn’t imagine you’d be outside this long. Your entire body is covered in goosebumps as you wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm. Your friend offers you a cigarette which you accept gratefully as she places it in your mouth for you.

“Fuck!” you exclaim frustrated, “Why aren’t they fucking letting anyone in?” You peer over to try to see the front of the line, and you notice people towards the front are trying to reason with the club’s bouncer- who you immediately hate because you resent his hoodie and puffer jacket he wears to brace the cold. You think about how the moment you can step foot in, you’re making a beeline to the bar and getting a shot to warm up.

Someone, probably a promoter or something, emerges from the inside. He says something to the bouncer, you’re too far away to hear. The bouncer nods, and the guy starts walking down the line. He looks at the groups who are waiting, and he gestures to a few groups of just girls- you and your friends included- and ushers you all inside. You’re too elated to care as he’s saying something about needing to up the ratio of men to women blah blah blah. You quickly stomp out your cigarette and all you can think about is warming up.

You link arms with two of your friends as you head towards the inside, scurrying excitedly to get out of the cold. The bouncer nods to each group as they enter, but puts up an arm to stop you and your friends. “IDs,” he says, and you swear his voice sounds so familiar.

“C’mon man, we’re cold as shit,” your friend complains, letting go of your arm to retrieve her ID from her clutch. Looking in his direction, you immediately recognize him from the other day- the customer from your overnight shift. You aren’t sure if he would recognize you, you're positive you put more thought into the whole interaction than he did. You make eye contact and you swear for a moment he wants to say something, but he just stares. Realizing you decided to go without a bag, you bite your lip and mutter a silent “shit” as you need to pull your ID from your bra to hand to him. He says nothing, just nervously licks his lips as he takes your license.

“Thanks,” he says, handing them back. Your friends huff, and drag you inside. Your eyes linger on him as they pull you and you both watch each other until you disappear from view.

A remix of Von dutch is playing so loud and the club is packed. It’s completely dark except for the raving strobe lights that are synced to the beat of the music. You can’t hear anything over the screams of Addison Rae as your friends get a round of shots. You happily accept, tilting your head back. The burn is such a welcomed sensation to your freezing body. You let the crowd dictate where your body moves, letting yourself start to let loose.

A couple of hours later, you’re more than ready to get out of there. It was fun, but your friends have mostly paired off with men and you’re anticipating that soon they’ll be roping them into wherever the group decides to go next. You aren’t in the mood for another night of splitting a cab with one of your friends and whatever guy is going back to their place. You don’t need the reminder that amongst the group, you’re never the one getting the guy, you think pessimistically. You text your friends, lying about an early shift, and let them know you’re getting an Uber.

Standing outside, you’re freezing again, and it’s almost worse now that your body has been so acclimated to the warmth inside. You lean against the brick building and cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to warm yourself up.

“Here,” you hear him say, and you look up surprised, not realizing he was there. He offers you his jacket for you to take. “You need,” he insists. You offer a thankful smile and slip it over your shoulders. It smells like woodsy cologne and cigarettes. The warmth engulfs you and you swaddle yourself into the warm fabric.

“Thank you,” you say shyly. He nods and puts his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. He pulls out a small pack of pre-rolls, and offers one to you. You accept and hold it between your fingers as he lights it for you.

“You probably don’t fucking remember me, but like, I think you got gas the other night at the uh place I work-”

“I remember.”

“Oh, okay-”

“You were reading a book and then what’s the word ‘ogled’ me? You ‘ogled’ me when you thought I wasn’t looking,” he teased.

“I was not ogling you!” you scoff, defensive. You can feel how warm your face is from his accusation. “It’s my job to make sure dumbasses aren’t gonna blow themselves up at the pump. It was purely a safety measure,” you lie obviously, making him laugh.

“Whatever you say,” he responds with a sly smile. You see a car start to pull up. Reluctantly, you unwrap yourself from his jacket and hand it back to him.

“Uh, that’s my Uber,” you explain and you swear he looks disappointed. He nods, accepting his jacket back.

“Can I call you?” he asks as the black sedan pulls up to the curb. You nod enthusiastically. He hands you his phone and you quickly text yourself.

“Uh that’s me,” you explain dumbly, cringing because duh. He just smiles, and it’s painfully sincere. You slide into the backseat of the car, and you can feel your phone buzz with a notification before you even finish putting on your seatbelt.

My name is Igor

---

You’re sitting on your couch as you lick the rolling paper to finish off your joint. A metal tv tray rests over your lap acting as your work station. You admire your work and then pass it to Igor, who accepts it without a word. You move the tray table to the floor so you can get comfortable, and you lean into his side as he lights the joint. The two of you share it, passing it back and forth between each other as your eyes are both focused on the TV.

It’s been a few weeks and your relationship with Igor has gone on undefined. Lines have been blurred and you can’t pin point if it’s the substances that are in your systems or if it’s just that when you’re with him, time feels like it stops- a hangout stretching into a couple days without you even realizing.

You don’t know what you’d call this. It’s not friends, and it feels much like it’s much more than casual. You assume it’s exclusive- you spend so much time together; there’s hardly any opportunities for him to see someone else. But there’s been no lines drawn, no labels given- he’s slotted himself into your life seamlessly like you’ve known him forever. His grandmother treats you like her own blood, taking an immediate liking to you. It all just works.

“What is this?” You ask suddenly, looking up at him. His eyes widen in confusion. He takes the joint out from between his lips, exhaling smoke.

“Maybe Idica, I don’t know,” he muses and you sigh in frustration at your inability to be direct.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh, hiding your face in your hands. “No, not that,” you clarify. “I meant like- you and me.”

“Oh, um,” he replies, mulling things over in his head before he speaks. “Whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” you answer honestly, and he nods understandingly, but you feel him clear his throat and you can feel him straighten his posture. You worry he misunderstood your meaning. “No, no- fuck. I made it weird,” you sigh, “I just meant like, I don’t want to mess it up by changing it. But at the same time, I don’t want you doing this with someone else- and I don’t want to do this with anyone else but you- you know?”

“I know,” he replies, he’s so patient and sweet about it. He kisses your temple and just lets you process. He’s so gentle like that, all the time. “I want the same,” he states simply. “Just us,” he reiterates, taking another hit and then passes the joint back to you.

“Just us,” you smile.

“So does this mean we’re uh, boyfriend girlfriend?” He teases and he laughs at how your nose scrunches in disgust.

“Gross,” you pretend to gag. You shake your head, like your trying to shake out the memory of him saying something so fucking cheesy. It makes him smile.

—

“He’s coming runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’,” you sing obnoxiously as Igor’s pulls up to the curb. “He’s coming. Ridin’ round town, they gonna feel this one.” You see his cheeks turn pink as he tries to not laugh.

“What the fuck is that?” He questions, walking around to open the passenger door for you.

“Oh my fucking god, dude. It’s Tyler the Creator- it’s IGOR’S THEME. Did you now know that? I’ve been doing that bit for like two weeks and you didn’t think to fucking look it up?” You laugh a little. You buckle up, and extend out your hand. “Give me your phone, you need to listen to it.”

Without hesitation, he passes his phone to you and then he pulls away from the curb slowly. You start the album from the beginning, and you settle back into your seat. You put his phone down in the cup holder and rest your head against the seat belt. It’s a comfortable silence as you both listen. As he drives, he rests his right hand comfortably on your thigh, his thumb making circles.

Anxiety is a tricky thing. As time passes, you begin to feel insecure for monopolizing the music. You start to feel guilty about the jab you made at Igor’s expense for not knowing this album. You begin to overthink everything, and the music playing starts to make you feel overexposed. And you begin to associate his silence with resentment.

“You can change it to whatever you want,” you say apologetically. He looks at you confused from the corner of his eye, only glancing over so he can focus on the road.

“But you like this?” He asks, puzzled.

“I don’t want to force feed stuff to you,” you try to explain, “I didn’t mean to make you sit through it.”

“I think it’s great,” he offers sincerely, “it’s good.”

“You don’t have to say that, just because I like it,” you counter, feeling insecure.

“I like the music,” he reiterates, “I like it, and I like it because it’s something you wanted to share with me.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I love when you share things with me,” he interrupts you before you begin to spiral. “Do it more often,” he says, encouragingly. He stops for the red light, and leans over to kiss you. “Please.”

He turns his attention back to the road as the light turns green and you can’t help but smile as you watch him turn the dial up.

[scaramouche-bully]

— ☆ Rematch

— Eager to have another opportunity to see Jing Yuan and Igor face off, you easily agree to play as referee for what you believe will be another fight of fists.

Includes: Igor + Jing Yuan

[ Sub ] Gender-neutral reader Contains: Poly relationships, sweat, voyeurism, rough sex, stomach bulge, crying, begging, unprotected sex, kissing, coming untouched, cumming in pants + alluded Igor x Jing Yuan.

[ masterlist ]

I finally finished the Wardance event and immediately fell in love with Igor to the point I wrote this in one sitting. It is unfortunate that we may not see him in future events but I hope we can. I'd like to see more Igor and Jing Yuan interactions.

Rumors travel fast on a ship filled with long-life species, what else is there to do when you've had so many years to explore every possible hobby you could find? Naturally, the ever-changing gossip of new developments that can change with a flip of a coin makes everyone a little excited. Whispers behind painted nails, lingering eyes that gaze up and down, and even shy giggles that are poorly hidden behind paper fans. The rumor mill is fast and latches onto anything that could be exploited for entertainment, you would know since it's been your main source of income for a few hundred years. Initially, being a journalist wasn't what you had in mind when you first arrived on the Luofu, but many things in your life suddenly crashed into you and expected you to figure it out. Your boss suddenly decided to cover an entirely different person of interest when the deadline was only a few hours away. The near-death experiences of wandering too deep into places known for its mara-struck monsters roaming about, all for a better picture. Even now, being suddenly asked to play as a referee for the most hyped contestants of the Wardance. An exclusive rematch between the Luofu's ringmaster and the outworlder from Belobog.

Distantly, in the far recesses of your mind which titters on the edge of rationality, are amused that you can finally answer the fan-made question that's been buzzing all over the Luofu.

Igor does fuck like he fights. Hard, fast, and he doesn't pull any punches.

"M-Mister Igor- ah! Slow...down!" you cry out, nails sinking into metal and flesh. You're starting to grow a little crazy, as if the mara decided to strike now even though you're far too young for the disease to form through old age. It's far too hot, Igor runs warmer than anyone given the coldness of his planet, but you're starting to believe that the air is turning fuzzy from the sheer heat radiating off him. It doesn't help that he wants to press himself as close to you as he physically can, the sweat on his body smearing against your skin that you think should feel disgusting, but only makes you burn hotter. You feel like you're melting inside and out, from the tip of your toes up to your brain that's turning dumber and dumber with each passing second.

"Sorry, where I'm from, there's no time for gentle loving. Besides-" Igor punctuates his word with a harsh thrust against your battered hole that sends you squealing, "I don't lose to the same opponent twice."

The declaration awakens another layer into Igor's "fighting spirit", he pulls out until only the tip of his cock is still being clung to by your hole, before burying his cock so deeply you swear you can feel it in the back of your throat. He fucks with all his strength, the loud slapping noises of his skin hitting yours fill the room, almost loud enough that your spectator can't hear any more of your near-hysterical moans. Jing Yuan has the best seat in the house, hovering just above you as he watches Igor bully his cock inside you, a tiny bump in your stomach appearing and disappearing with each thrust. Droplets of sweat trail down Igor's chin until they fall on your fucked-out face. He wonders what it tastes like? His own cock strains against the fabric of his pants at the thought, twitching and weeping pitiful drops of precum but he keeps his hands obediently at his side. It's not his turn yet.

"Ah!! No! I-Igor! Ah- my...you're gonna break me!!" your cries are ignored when Igor leans down to smother your words of mercy. It's almost cute that Igor kisses sweetly, as if he's trying to soothe the tears streaming down your cheeks despite being the cause of them. The coolness of his metal arm sends tiny shivers up your spine as it settles on the arch of your spine, pressing you even closer until you're molded against him. His other hand hitches your thigh onto the curve of his waist, a new angle for him to drive himself deeper. Small little grinds of his cock against your most sensitive spots send shocks through your body before you finally snap, a muffled moan swallowed by Igor as you cum. It doesn't stop the man, only fueling his actions as he pounds into you with utmost desperation, strings of slick being dragged in and out of your hole. Jing Yuan's eyes dim at the sight, his tongue unconsciously running over his lips. His fingers twitch slightly, his resolve and discipline wavering in the face of such temptation. The only reason he doesn't move is the near primal look in Igor's eyes that snap to his, a silent command to wait his goddamn turn.

"Don't cry. You'll like—you'll love this, just toughen it out a bit more," Igor mutters against your ear. His hand has wandered to caress the bulge in your belly, pressing his fingers down against the bump every time it pops up. Igor's hips stutter at the feeling, muscles tensing and twitching as he struggles with his strength to not cause any unwanted pain. It's been a while since he's had the time to indulge in a warm body. Between the matches and his ambition to fight for his home, he hasn't had the time or intention to accept any of the more personal proposals he's been given. There were more important things to be doing, if he needed to vent any frustration, he could be training. So to say he's a bit pent-up is an understatement.

"Fuck- Fuck! Can I come inside?" Igor groans, hands moving to dig into your waist as he physically pushes and pulls you up and down his cock like a ragdoll. You can only give a jumbled slurry of noises that vaguely sounds like a yes before Igor tenses, a low groan as he pumps his cum deeper inside you. The room finally calms down, allowing for a brief respite as Igor gathers his bearings to finally let you go, the sound of your body dropping onto the bed lifeless has him looking up worried.

"Had this been an official match, you would have been disqualified for knocking out the referee," Jing Yuan muses, his head tilting to the side until his white hair covers one of his golden eyes. He's rewarded by Igor's punched-out chuckles, his body still panting as he comes down from his high. Igor slowly maneuvers you more comfortably on the bed, easing your legs down so you don't wake up with a cramp. With great difficulty, because you're so warm, he pulls out with a groan, globs of his cum pooling onto the bedsheets. With one deep inhale, Igor tilts his head up to escape the haze, and with his exhale, golden eyes meet gold.

"You need help with that?" Igor asks as he stares Jing Yuan in the eye. He doesn't need to look down to see the mess in the lieutenant's pants. He knows that despite not being touched and the calm facade, if he were to pull Jing Yuan's pants down he would see the same white cum that's still leaking from your hole.

[moon-heart22]

For those who don't know who i mean:

Van helsing

Igor

[crsssie]

you make me wanna make ya fall in love

word count: 1.97k || EMT Leon || slightly ooc + flirting (HIPAA violation)

summary: the 2000s called, they want their romcom plot back

"I'm actually gonna pass out." You sit on the couch, blinking rapidly as your head goes light.

"I called 911 already, so hang in there, alright?!" Ashley stays connected to the call, holding you up as you groan, stomach caving in on itself and your eyes giving out. Oh, god, is this how you die? You focus on breathing through your mouth, ignoring the way Ashley's voice is reduced to ringing and the way you're sweating buckets. Ew. Maybe you should've— oh. this is because you didn't eat, huh? It is 8pm. Yeah, this one's on you. Maybe the heavens will be nice and let a nice hot EMT show up to your door and save your ass— yeah, tough luck.

You can't believe you're about to pass out and all you can think about is men. You're literally failing the Bechdel test. What are you? Some poor girl in a teenage romcom? You're not even a teenager.

You close your eyes for some shut-eye, disrupted when you're shaken awake, blinking slowly as you catch sight of Ashley first, holding her chest in relief when you stare at her.

Then, you notice him—

Beautiful blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, arms hard as a rock, you might've just died and landed in heaven. Are you in heaven? Surely you must be. This man looks so gorgeous it's incredible. You have to be in heaven right now. You blink at him with doe-eyes, confusion visible on your face. Ashley's here, so you're not in heaven. Did you just happen to have a super hot EMT show up to your door like you had been imagining? Oh, god, are you... psychic? This is a revelation! This is insane! You have to—

No, seriously. You're not in a romcom. Can the narrator stop describing it like it's some sort of a romcom? The 2000s called, they want their cheesy romcom plotline back.

"Fucking hell." You groan, shifting against the wall. "How long was I out?"

"Ten minutes." The man reads. "You're just low in blood sugar. We have some orange juice, would you like that?"

"Yeah. Sure." You furrow your brows. "God, wow, count on my body to shut down without sugar."

"It happens." He thanks his coworker for the glass, holding it to your lips. "Tilt, please."

You tilt your head back slightly to press your lips to the glass, drinking it as you lean back to lick your lips, offering to take the glass from him as your arms start cooperating. "I can do it."

"Best not to." He nods. "Just finish the glass. We'll stay until your blood sugar rises."

"Isn't it almost immediate?"

"Takes around 15 minutes."

You raise a brow at Ashley, who shakes her head, and you finish the rest of the glass, watching as Leon checks your stats.

"How often does this happen..." You glance at his nameplate. "Leon?"

"More often than you'd think." He hums, tilting his head at you as Ashley talks to the other worker about your insurance. "Let me guess, you forgot to eat?"

"Yeah. My body stops feeling hunger after a certain point." You hum. "It's not super good, huh?"

"Yeah. Try to have some candy or juice throughout the day. It helps." He nods. "College student life, huh?"

You tilt your head. "How old are you?"

"Been a few years since school." He nods. "Your blood sugar's back to normal, sugar."

You hold your hand over your mouth, raising a brow at him. "That definitely breaks some sort of work protocol."

He smiles, sneaking you a candy from his pocket with a wink.

Huh. Hard caramel.

"Are you alright?" Ashley rests a hand on your shoulder, and you give her a thumbs up.

"All good." You lean against the wall to get up. "I should eat, though."

Leon grabs your arm, helping you up. "Definitely. Have something high in sugar or carbs."

"Will do, Leon." You nod. "Wishing you an uneventful work day. May no emergency be absolutely awful."

"Thank you. Those days are the best."

You send them off as Ashley starts nagging about not eating, and you pout as you lock eyes with her, door locked, ambulance gone.

"Yeah, he was hot."

"YEAH, HE WAS."

You forget about him, though. You start popping candy throughout the day, same brand as the one Leon had given you, your lips curled upwards sweetly when it hits your tongue. It's not food, but at least you won't be passing out because your blood sugar's low again.

You're also never going to see him again, so it's fine if you carry a piece of him around with you.

Except you do. You see him at the EMT booth at a local concert, Ashley in your arms because there's something wrong with her this time. (You really ought to start taking care of yourselves, huh?)

"Ah, sugar." Leon smiles. "Friend this time?"

"Yes." You set her down as he checks up on her. "Is she okay?"

"Seems fine. Just needs some water. Dehydration. How long you been out there?"

"Since morning." You glance at the venue. "Didn't eat either, though I've been having candy."

"That's not good for you, sugar." He hands Ashley a bottle of water, sending her off with you. "Go grab some food."

You watch as he fishes out a twenty from his pocket, blinking as he holds it out to you.

"I can't take that from you, sir."

"Nonsense. Concert food is expensive. It's on me." He smiles.

"You're still breaking workplace rules, I see." You rummage through your pockets, taking Leon's hand as you place a caramel in his hand. "As a thank you."

"I'm sure it'll be delicious later." He smiles. "Now, off you go. We've got quite a line."

"Wouldn't dream of holding you up, Leon." You lead Ashley to the side by the crowds, waiting for her to grab a drink before pulling her to grab something to eat. You pay for her food first, setting Ashley with the rest of your friends before waving to get something of your own.

"Get his number!" She manages to yell as you disappear into the crowd.

Now that's breaking protocol.

Yet, you use the remainder of Leon's money to get him something to eat, waiting for the line to dissipate slightly before handing him a drink.

"For me?"

"It's got... liquid IV in it." You scrunch your nose. "Hopefully that's not a scam."

"Not completely." He takes it from you, pinching at the straw to mix it. "Did you eat?"

"I was about to."

He glances at his coworker and then the intermission.

"That'd be bad, Kennedy." The woman next to him warns.

Leon sighs. "Have fun eating."

"Thank you again." You grin.

"Ah, and for dessert." He reaches for your hand, placing another candy in it. "A hard caramel."

"I'm starting to think you have a thing for caramels, Leon." You raise a brow, taking two steps back before throwing a wave his way. "I'll pay you back later!"

You grab dinner with the rest of your friends, waving bye to them when they leave to continue, Ashley making sure that you've got candy on you before she's gone. You have one final singer that you'd like to see before you leave the event. You're glad you live close to the venue. You could probably walk back or uber if you were really desperate. Though, you wonder just how long the EMT are staying.

You find yourself mixed into the crowd as you wait, jumping when your favorite artist finally appears, cheering with everyone else. You don't blame the rest of them for retiring early. You're the only one who listens to this artist anyway. The setlist has you jumping, cheering at the live vocals, yelling your heart out with the lyrics, and when the set finishes, the sun's almost down. It'd be smart of you to head out at this point.

You make a turn to head back, popping the caramel in your mouth, stopping in your tracks when a man blocks your way.

"Where ya off to, sweetheart?"

"...Oh, you know." You smile, nodding to excuse yourself.

"Need a ride home?"

"Truly, it's alright—"

"I insist."

You wrack your brain for a solution, yelping when you feel hands on your waist instead, pulling you backwards. Your back is flush against someone's chest, smile on his lips as you blink. Sure hope it's not some other creep.

"Hey, you good bro? Had one too many to drink? I suggest the EMT tent."

You let out a sigh in relief, watching as the guy notices the uniform and scrambles.

"Thank you." You turn around, smile on your lips as Leon nods.

"You're just too lovely, sugar. Gotta keep those flies off of ya." He nods. "You feeling alright?"

You nod.

"Gone all quiet on me?" He tilts his head. "Alright, up you go."

You yelp as he lifts you into his arms effortlessly, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the crowd. He presses his forehead to yours to check your temperature, looking to the side when you don't react at all.

"You good?"

"I'm fine, Leon. You didn't need to." You let him take your vitals, the tent practically empty now that the concert was finishing up. His coworker nods at him and heads out, and leaves you with Leon. That's gotta be illegal in some way. There is no way a law is not being broken right there. Aren't they both supposed to get off at the same time? Is that?? legal? Is their shift over?

"You seem fine." He kneels at your chair, fingers on your wrist as he takes your heartbeat. "Heart's a little fast, though."

"Yeah?" You mumble. You're sure you look embarrassed beyond belief right now, so you opt for sucking on the caramel in your mouth.

You're not surprised he takes notice. "Actually, I think my head's spinning just a little. Must be the lack of sugar. You got any on you?"

"Well, I kind of ate my last one..." You mumble, sticking your tongue out with the candy.

"I don't mind."

"Yeah?" You suck on the candy.

"Of course not, sugar." He leans in, tilting his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, who am I to say no?"

You let him kiss you, tongue with the caramel offered to him, sugar on your lips and his from it, though you would argue that the only reason the candy seemed to taste so good was because of him. You tilt your head to angle better, Leon's hands finding yours on the chair, pushing himself to you with a hum in his throat, tongue in your mouth as he steals the caramel from you. You don't mind. You might've just tasted a slice of heaven of your own.

You pant, tongue stuck out and mouth open as Leon shows you the candy on his tongue, smiling.

"You got a ride home, sugar?"

"You gonna kidnap me?" You raise a brow, licking your lips for whatever remnant of him is left on you.

"Not with this pretty lady, no." He smiles.

"Breaking work protocol again, I see."

"I'm off duty." He glances to the side as the new shift arrives, and Leon offers a hand to help you up. "Don't worry, sugar, you can pass out on my car. I've got all the candy you could want."

"Hm..." You tap your chin, taking his hand as he pulls you with him, not letting go.

"Hm what?"

"How about we grab brunch sometimes nearby? Just to make sure my sugar levels don't drop from forgetting to eat?" You tilt your head, watching as Leon tilts his head back to you.

"Oh, sugar. You don't even need to ask."

[urnanabanana]

Luminary Wardance screenshots (Final Battle)

[paladin--strait]

Here Is the request as asked!

It was that Matt Rempe and the reader were in a long distance relationship, she flies over which he knows about. But she goes to watch one of his games, afterwards she walks into the locker room with a baggy jersey on and a mini skirt (obviously it has Remps name and number on the back).

How would he react? 🤣

i hope this is okay! let me know if you want me to rewrite it! ❤️

-

matt and i's relationship grew after we met when the rangers came to play the new jersey devils. he saw me wearing a jonas siegenthaler jersey, sitting on the nearest row to the ice.

when matt knocked jonas out with a high elbow, skated over to me, he smiled and laughed, pointing at me from the other side of the glass. my eyes widened in confusion and a bit of fear at his actions.

when a staff member came up to me after the game and handed me a pass to meet the rangers players after the game, i looked at the her with confusion. "i'm not here for the rangers, sorry." i don't accept the pass and hand it back to her.

"miss, one of the rangers players wants to meet you. please, follow me." she hands me the pass again, insisting i come with her. i sigh and follow her, down a hallway and past a bunch of reporters, waiting to get in to meet the players for post game interviews.

when the staff brought me into the locker room for the rangers, she pointed at matt rempe and told me that he was the one who requested to see me. i look at him and make eye contact, his black eye staring back at me as i walk towards him.

"so, did you like that elbow i got on siegenthaler earlier?" he smirks out at me. "saw you in his jersey, and i knew i needed you to be a rangers fan. and to make it even better, wearing my jersey."

i scoff. "hurting my favorite hockey player isn't going to win me over, ya know." i smart mouth back at him, rolling my eyes.

matt then made a comment about me being feisty, and that he needed to find another way to win me over. he offers to take me out that night in an attempt to win me over, and it took some convincing, but he finally managed to take me out for dinner and drinks.

he eventually brought me over to become a rangers fan, or what i called the dark side for a long time. matt and i became friends and eventually more, but the distance between us became a problem very quickly. matt and i are both clingy. when we finally get to see each other, we can't keep our hands off of the other.

we facetime every morning and every night, even if one is too tired to stay awake. we fall asleep on the phone if we have to. so when i had enough of the late night and early morning calls, i booked a plane ticket to new york.

after the flight, when i land in new york, i walk out of the small, cramped hallway and walk to baggage claim. matt told me he would be waiting there, but i didn't know that he would bring some of the guys with him to meet me. i smile and we run at each other, giving each other the biggest hug.

after a while of hugging each other so tightly we could barely breathe, we let go and give each other a kiss. i hear my name being called and look behind matt to see igor and artemi. i smile and hug them too. we smile and talk a bit before matt grabs my bags for me and we leave.

-

the next day, matt has a game at MSG. i tell him i'll be there and i'll see him at the arena after the game. but while he's gone all day to rest at the gym in the arena, using the hot tubs and the physical therapy to help him warm up for the game like he always does, i'm sleeping in his comfortable bed that smells like him.

after i wake up, i spend my time at home before the game getting ready. taking a shower and after that doing my makeup and hair. before i get dressed, i have two hours left before the game starts, so i don't get changed just yet. i use the extra time to put my things away for while i stay in new york.

when it's time to get ready, i throw on my rempe jersey and a short skirt, it reaches above my knees. matt told me once on the phone that he loved this skirt. he saw it on my instagram post from a girls night out about a year ago. it's blue, with two white stripes at the bottom and it matches the jersey perfectly.

i take an uber to the game, arriving just in time for the players family members, partners, and friends, all with passes, to go in. i flash my pass to the security, and he lets me in. i walk up to the VIP booth and say hello to some of the WAGS that i haven't seen in a while. i text matt, letting him know i'm here and i'm in a vip booth.

he texts me to wave at him when he come out on the ice during warmups and that he loves me. when i see him skate out a few minutes later, i raise my hand, waving at him and he waves back at me. i smile and giggle, watching him skate in circles like a ballerina during warmups.

-

after the game, i show my pass to the security once more and they let me into the locker room. i walk over to matt, who's tying his sneakers. "hey there. good job out there." i smile and giggle when he jumps like i scared him.

"hey...holy fuck, thank you." he says, standing and hugging me. "i don't think i've ever played that much. my body hurts so fucking bad..." he kinda leans his weight on me with his arms wrapped around my waist.

i smile and pat his wet hair from the shower he just took, kissing his cheek. "it was well deserved playing time, babe. you played so good." i pull away, kissing his forehead and smiling at him.

i see his eyes rake over my body, eyes wide when he sees my skirt. "that's the one i love so much..." he makes eye contact with me, grinning happily. "god...it looks so fucking good on you...even better in person..." he smirks slightly, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me closer to his body.

"careful big boy..." i whisper, laughing. "we're not alone in here." he nods and rolls his eyes at my words, but still smiling at me. i smile and kiss his lips, leaning close to her ear, "you can take it off of me later, if you want."

i pull away from his ear and look at his now wide eyes. he suddenly pulls away, beginning to pack his things as quickly as possible. i laugh, "matt, honey, what are you doing?"

"i'm packing my things so we can leave." his voice is serious, but my laughs make him break, bursting into laughter too. his teammates look at us weirdly when our loud laughter fills the room. "gotta get that cute little skirt off of you as soon as possible." he smiles at me, grabbing his bags and taking my hand, leading me out of the locker room after saying his goodbyes to his teammates.

matt is never the first player to leave the locker room and arena after a game, especially after a win. but that night, matt had a reason to leave, and it was you. matt scored twice that night, once on the ice, and once with you.

[looooochie]

Boyfriend headcanons | seleccion sub-17

summary: just them being cute asf

warnings: fluff, headcanons

(here are some headcanons of them to kill u with cuteness :) )

- raul jimenez

─ whenever he holds you in his arms, and you trace the tattoos on his arm, he constantly get the the thought to get your name tatted on him

- hector fort

─ when he plays video games, and like, a cute thing comes up, hector always thinks of you

- daniel munoz

─ one thing about him, whenever you go shopping, he always insists on carrying your stuff for you, like  he won't let you carry ANYTHING around him, even the smallest things

- jon martin

─ he kind of gets scared and isn't sure if he wanted to get a tattoo or not. so he asks you if he should but you have to go with him to prove it

- pau cubarsi

─ pau takes notes on his phone on what your favorite things are so, next time if he goes anywhere, he can look at it so he won't forget anything about you

pau prim

─ if you ever prank pau or like do something he thinks is pretty childish, he know how to get his way. he either pranks you back, or just smothers you with kisses until you say not to prank him again

- pablo lopez

─ he really hates being called 'pablito' by other people, because it makes him feel small . but, he only likes it when you call him 'pablito', like you're the only one who's allowed to call him that

- roberto martin

─ whenever you tease him or make him feel flustered, he waits when you least expect it, only to tease you back

- marc guiu

─ whenever marc goes to play for his national team, he gets extremely nervous, because he doesn't want his team to get eliminated out of any tournament their in . you always reassure him that he can get far and he's super happy about that

- juan hernandez

─ he sometimes gets made fun of for being short and you really don't like it when someone does that . so you're around him like all the time so you can make sure he won't be called 'short' . but, he's extremely grateful for you being with him

peio huestamendia

─ when you guys cuddle, peio really likes to be the little spoon . I mean, he doesn't really mind being the big spoon, but he likes your arms around him

- igor oyono

─ if igor sometimes makes you kinda mad at him, he regrets it almost every time . he will even cry just for you to forgive him, but you do eventually

fran arbol

─ sometimes you go to his matches and admire his goalkeeper skills . sometimes he struggles and asks you if he needs any improvement, you always tell him that's it's okay, and he sometimes does improve though

- izan merino

─ if you ever come to his city to play against whatever team you're going against, he always comes in your jersey, just to show a little support

- andres cuenca

─ the first time he lifted up his hair, you told him that his face is fine and he's beautiful, bangs or no bangs . because he always had an insecurity that he had a big forehead, so he often just tied his hair into a small ponytail when he sees you

- marc bernal

─ when he wakes up first, he tries to wake you up and you always tell him "5 more minutes Marc.." . so he always mentions that he made your favorite breakfast just to wake you up . sometimes he did, sometimes, he did.. not

- oscar mesa

─ oscar is most of the time a cold-blooded person and doesn't show much emotion to things . but when you come to madrid for your el clasico match, he cries . he was the definition of 'crybaby', and he treats you like he hadn't seen you in years . it was shocking, but you love it

- quim junyent

─ on the other hand, quim really likes it when you ruffle his hair, it's very soft and fluffy and it makes him feel special

- daniel yanez

─ sometimes he stresses out because apparently his shirts go 'missing' . but when daniel realized that you keep some of them, he didn't ask for them back, he lets you keep them

- paulo iago

─ whenever he sees you play against his female team of real madrid, he wants to support you by wearing your jersey, but he's afraid that he'll be a traitor to his team . so like, whenever he doesn't go out, he wears it, when nobody's looking

- marcos gonzalez

─ he's the type of person to get really scared whenever you aren't around him . so that's why, whenever you two are in the same bed, he uses hand to to search around for your body and pull you close to him

(their instas just incase: rauljimenezz, hctorfortt, danielmunoznavas_, jonmartin.4, paucubarsi, pauprim_06, ppabblo_, robertomartin_10, marcguiu9, juanht10, peiohuesta_, igoroyono_, fran_arbol, izan4_mr, andres_cuenca4, marcbernal_, oscarmesap17, quimjunyent, danielyb7, paulo.iago10, marcglezz_)

[fnck-fac3]

I… I feel things about this man… things that if I say out loud I would probably be in a psych ward…

[teabunnee]

Begins screaming pleading for anything with the Graveborn, especially Igor, Carolina and Viperious 😭🙏 they do NOT get enough love, at least not yet, and I have a weakness for creepy-looking but sweet/silly characters

Igor 

Igor is a whirlwind, no doubt about that. 

That being sad, he’s a bit of a puppy sometimes, he follows you everywhere like a big, scary, glowing guard dog. 

Very protective of you, and he’s a great, if rather overzealous, protector. 

He’s very unpredictable, sometimes he’ll just poof in, give you a spinecrushing hug and kiss your breath away, then poof away with an insane laugh.  

Dates happen pretty much when you decide hanging out with him is a date. He loves it either way. 

Dude doesn’t understand romances. If he’s confused, he tilts his head. He has very big dog energy that makes you forget he is also a very spooky undead guy with a lantern over his head. He’ll try anything once. But anything he finds out he really likes? He does it frequently. 

Igor is a pretty sentimental sort of dude, he gives you flowers and gifts you might like, mostly stuff you can find on the road, and probably grave offerings, but it’s the thought that counts!

Igor loves cuddling. He always has an arm around you, or holding your hand, or just hunkering over you like a demented street lamp. 

He likes to spin you around, and he can, no matter how large or heavy you are. 

He likes to give you kisses, though his lips are a bit rough and scarred,

Carolina 

Carolina is a very gentle lover, I think. And quite old fashioned. 

She enjoys tea parties, though I’m not sure if she can taste it, the company is much appreciated 

Any sort of affection makes her melt, sometimes literally. 

She can be a bit oblivious, and curious, not a great combo. 

She likes long walks in nature, though most time “nature” is in the snow during the night, so dress warm! She’s quite warm herself, actually, so stay close to her! 

Fiercely, fiercely loyal, she sees you as her family, and she will do anything to protect you. 

Court her properly, and you’ll see stars and tears in her eyes. She never thought she would ever have such a thing, not since she became a grave born. 

She’s not very well versed in modern ways of romance, but just the idea of it makes her happy. She’s willing to learn, even if she gets a bit confused. 

She likes to lie on your chest, listening to your heartbeat and your breathing, should you not be a grave born. 

Carolina sometimes has nightmares, and she goes to you for comfort, crying about her family, about how much she misses them. 

Her kisses are very sweet, and lingering. Cheek kisses are her go-to 

Viperian

Viperious loves to talk about his experiments, he loves debates and a meeting of the mind. Should you be able to understand, and willing to talk about his experiments, he is thrilled. Even if you don’t, just having you willing to listen is quite a lot. Sure, he enjoys it when people are repulsed, and he's not adverse to that reaction from you, but talking about with you? Moths in his stomach.

You hang out in his workplace as he works, and he treats it like a date.

He likes to study your face, as if picking each feature apart, piece by piece, running his fingers down your palms to feel the muscles and sinew. It’s not necessarily nsfw, it’s more of an intimacy thing.

He’s surprisingly congenial, friendly and earnest, despite his whole experimenting with organic material in rather than macabre ways. He can also get a bit…excited and hyperfixated, and doesn’t quite understand why people don’t like the same things he does. 

His idea of romance is a bit…stunted due to his time focusing on his work rather than interpersonal relationships, but he’s willing to learn nonetheless. 

He might take you out on a midnight stroll in a graveyard. For a treat. He takes your hand, humming a tune you’d recognise from his workshop. 

The finale of the date might also have a lovely dinner with you, served by several of his undead experiments. Surprisingly tasty. 

Viperian’ snake likes you too, they enjoy tangling around your legs, and pushing themselves into your cheek. They’re probably safe. Probably. 

[ashen-char]

I'm obsessed with the idea of ani joining in the conversations about partners and bringing reader up like "they never let me cook! which is sweet but i want to cook too!" or "they drool a lot when they sleep!" in a innocent way not thinking much about the fact the other girls are talking about their partners and she just started yapping about reader like they're together.

I just know the fact she always brings reader up in partner conversations makes them even more confused when ani drops the information she's married and it's NOT with reader, like they're happy for her but 'what does she mean she's not with reader??' Yes, they tease her and joke about it but they fr think there's something going on with those two.

reader likes to sit close to anora when she's playing, they're reading a book or doing something job/studies related, stuff like that. They just like being around her either they have her attention or not, they just feel this comfortable aura coming from anora whenever she's close, she's home. You'll giggle about her getting mad at villagers and then ani looks at you annoyed because 'you're suppose to be on my side!' and you're like 'sorry, got to a funny part on the book...' and you're reading the saddest and most tragic book ever.

I think later on reader introduces ani to one or two more violent games where she can kick people's asses! probably Mortal Kombat, she'll definitely play this type of games when a client/her boss pissed her off badly on that particular day and she needs to punch someone to calm down, even if it's on a video game it helps her a lot! But she likes more the cozy games like animal crossing, stardew valley, even the sims (her favourite is the sims 2 because of all the attention to detail the game has).

You once tried to make her play an horror game (resident evil, until dawn, silent hill, amnesia) and she tried it, she really did but after some time she was like 'nop! I'm done! put my animal crossing NOW!'

About ivan, like I said his parents are to blame for a big part of who he is today but he's 21 already and that's old enough to at least KNOW not to leave your wife alone when she's fighting for a future with you against 3 MEN DOUBLE HER SIZE! like if you care about her and her safety you either runaway with her or you stay there with her! That scene is what makes me think that anora cares about him but he doesn't care about her or at least not as much, you know?

YES! There's nothing wrong with wanting to have fun and be free, you don't have to be serious all the time like life's too short for that shit, but the fact he doesn't take anything serious, never thinks before doing a joke or just the way he treats people bellow him (maybe besides anora) lacks sense, maybe even empathy, like why yell as a joke at this staff member who's apologising already for not having the room ready because 1. THEY DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE COMING! and 2.BECAUSE IT WAS BEING USED!! it's a terrible joke, it can make that poor person lose their job if their superior happens to walk by, it lacks touch with reality too!

On the coke scene: if he had taken too much coke, mixed with the alchool and probably other drugs that shit could lead to his death or a coma! toros and garnick aren't stupid, they very likely know that ivan is using drugs and shit like that but if they don't know how much he has done/where he is how are they suppose to help him if it goes wrong? they are there to keep him alive, to keep him in line too, but mostly to keep his ass alive! You don't have to be serious 100% of your time but you also can't be 100% of your time acting like this petulant kid. ivan strikes me as someone who doesn't want to be treated like a kid and wants to be free but he hasn't shown any sense of responsibility to be able to take care of himself alone, like he can still have a kid spirit and be responsible AND sensible towards other people.

Oh i don't think he would even bother to ask anora about her past because like you pointed out he only calls her ani, she only started existing when ani did too. if ani did try to talk to him about it, open up about her past and stuff he wouldn't pay much attention, too distracted playing video games or on his phone. He would be like one of her friends boyfriends she heard so many complains about, you know?

it's a cute assumption but now I'm a little disgusted with it because of what I know... so embarrassing to me! i think with ivan she tried to keep it as much fairytale-ish as she could so she also tried to be a fairytale character, maybe because she felt the need she showed him her true self he would leave, while with igor she didn't want to/felt the need to put up a character, because he wouldn't leave since he understands her struggles.

I do agree that I prefer igor and ani over ivan and ani, like there's somehting more realistic about them, more personal and more 'honest-ish' for lack of a better word to express what I mean. I think ani needs someone a little more serious and responsible than ivan but also someone who can be carefree and I think if we had more time we could see igor being carefree around ani.

Anora only deserves the best and whatever or whoever that is I hope she's happy and at peace!

HELLO I DIDN'T MEAN TO LEAVE THIS ASK FOR SO LONG it kept cutting off when i tried to answer on mobile (which i was restricted to at the hospital) and eventually i decided to leave it until after i actually watched anora and had more formed thoughts!

ani's got a good rapport with the girls at HQ (barring diamond obviously). with how they flocked to see the fight, i bet they're pretty nosy too, listening intently to pick up on clues of if reader and ani are together. they'd have bets on it. lulu (who's basically the captain of the reader x ani ship) would scoff if anyone said reader's just ani's best friend, offended because obviously she is ani's best friend thank you very much.

sometimes when lulu invites ani out after work, ani says that you two have plans, excitedly yapping about how she's planning to decorate your shared sims' house or the ccs she downloaded. and lulu has this knowing look, cause that's so domestic? sweet? calm? not something ani would find fun if you weren't the one showing it too her. like, lulu finds ani in their backstage/changing room area on her switch, doing her daily fruit foraging in her ACNH island, probably cussing out tom nook for upping the house fee when she JUST paid the last one off. lulu knows all of ani's smiles and the ones about you/something you showed her are different to her performance smiles, to her flirty customer service. they're even different from when she's bragging about what a catch ivan is, about his mansion or how much he likes her.

how much he likes her. never the other way around. any other girl would be half in love with how vanya splashes out his time, attention, and cash. even if ani hasn't realised it herself, it's because her heart's already occupied with reader. imagine ani being away for that first week, apologising over and over to reader cause they already made plans while you just tell her it's ok. and then the next two weeks of their marriage, ani was happy and swept up in the excitement but also... restless? missing you? she busied herself with polishing up her russian, in the lavish new wardrobe and new life. in the dark of night wondering when it'll make her as happy as a simple day with you.

ivan's actually pretty interesting now that all the clips have context. he didn't run to not be caught, but more so to take in all the fun he could before he was whisked back - hitting up all the clubs, getting so drunk he wouldn't worry anymore. he didn't even plan to leave ani, fully wanted her to run with him. it was more... "consequences? what are those? boringgg". didn't wanna talk about his family, didn't wanna hear a word of reprimand from his parents, considers anything that isn't having fun as unnecessary. and especially him thanking ani for making his last trip fun as if he didn't ask her to MARRY him, when she was sceptical in the first place and told him not to tease her! she made sure he was sincere multiple times and he strung her along, pure and simple, knowing his parents wouldn't let that happen. knowing that he wouldn't actually fight his parents for it/for them.

gonna write some thoughts on ivan on another post this is getting too long and tbh i was more focused on anora :P (basically he's all about freedom and even argues back when they make a comment about him possibly marrying a man). the marriage was a fantasy to him, as is america, it's a freedom he won't actually pursue at the end of the day. not when being under his parents' thumb is easier. him being treated like a child is actually a privilege. ani's only two years older and knows so much more of responsibilities, of what it takes to earn and own things, of consequences. all vanya has to do is simper and follow his mom, childishly asking if her clothes are from the new collection rather than listening to her beratement.

i feel like if the marriage didn't collapse because of his parents, it'd be whenever ani decides she's had enough of the partying or the smoking and watching him play games. he asks about her parents, and she even offers to let them meet or go meet her sister. she wants to go to disneyworld for their honeymoon. but vanya would be the same vanya. show up drunk and blazed, embarrassing her in front of her mom and stepdad (while she covers his ass and lies "oh i swear he's not always like this, he's just tired"). ruining her childhood dream by letting his friends crash their honeymoon and trash the cinderella suite. she'd realise that this isn't perfect, that it isn't sustainable. it's fun, yes, ivan was right that they'd probably still have fun together if he wasn't rich. but imagine them going through the paperwork of getting that green card, of her trying to make him take it seriously so he can stay. applying, appointments, providing papers and proof... vanya would groan and act like ani's dragging him to do this. and he'd offer ani hits from his bong like he did to klara, never thinking about if something's the right time.

to contrast a relationship where ani would have to be the mature one, ani is notably different with igor (obviously). even if not romantically, having someone there that she can freely bitch at, let out her tension on, that accepts her moods must feel freeing. all these masks she puts on, be that at the club, or the perfect wife for vanya/his family. she's got her barbs, she's allowed to be prickly and abrasive and say whatever comes to her head. igor will laugh it off. she softened near the end (not the end end, i'm sure there's a lot of thoughts on that) when she brought him that blanket. wordlessly sharing blunts or taking the cig from his mouth, smiling when he laughs at a joke she slung to hurt his feelings. he doesn't just take it either. he asks why she says these things about him, asserts that he isn't (a gopnik, a f-slur ass bitch, a drug dealer, a rapist etc), but doesn't get mad at her for it. when toros or galina says "no, that didn't happen", it's to shut ani up, to not listen, to prove that she doesn't have a say/doesn't have power in the situation. when igor says it, it's on equal grounds-that he had to because he was genuinely scared about ani and that he didn't want her to hurt herself. AND after apologising multiple times, rather than jumping to "i didn't hurt you". it was "you were never in danger of being harmed".

[bravo4iscool]

the brainrot is real guys🤪

(ivar the boneless x katja; ivar the boneless & prince igor)

tag list - @bumblebeesfromvenus

(masterlist overview | vikings masterlist | join my tag list!)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

“you can’t leave me,” igor sobs into ivar’s chest, the boy hands gripping his tunic. “you can’t go. what am i supposed to do without you?” ivar feels wet spots forming on his clothes as he holds the boy to his chest and he needs to force himself to keep his composure.

he also didn’t want to leave. he loved igor. and he loved katja. he found a family in the rus empire, together with hvitserk. but his task there was finished. oleg was dead, dir would take care of igor now and once the boy was old enough he would become emperor.

what even was ivar supposed to do if he’d stay? just live from day to day? no. he didn’t know if he wanted that. his heart was craving kattegat. his soul was calling out for his home…

“i can’t stay here forever,” ivar mumbles while caressing igor’s head. “i don’t belong here…”

“but you do belong here! with me; with katja…” igor sniffles as he tightens his arms around ivar. “please don’t leave me…”

-

ivar stares at the cup in his hand, the slight reflection of his face looking back at him. he wanted to leave. at least that was what he thought.

“you have that look on your face,” hvitserk interrupts the thoughts of his little brother. he looks at ivar, his head slightly tilted. he wanted to know what ivar was thinking.

ivar lifts his head and huffs, “what look?”

hvitserk laughs. “you always have that look on your face when your heart is battling with your head.”

“huh?”

hvitserk sighs and sits up properly. “you’re used to thinking rational. you make decisions based on your brain—“ hvitserk jabs his finger against his temple. “—you ignore your feelings when making decisions. but sometimes you don’t want to listen to your head so you battle with yourself. and right now is that moment.” hvitserk plops a piece of bread into his mouth while ivar only stared at his older brother.

“your head tells you to go back to kattegat. that’s your home. that’s where you were born. it’s only logical to return and something inside you yearns to get back but you also don’t want to leave igor and katja. but staying here doesn’t make sense to your head,” hvitserk further explains, ripping off another piece of bread with a shrug.

ivar opens his mouth to disagree but hvitserk cuts him off, “katja is having your child, ivar. igor basically is your child already and everyone can see that you both love each other very deeply. you found a family here, ivar. something i’ll never have and you’d be a fool to leave it all behind.”

there’s a hint of sadness in hvitserk’s eyes and a heavy sigh escapes his lips. “you don’t want to leave ivar. you think you need to leave. that’s a big difference.”

“you have me, hvitserk,” ivar says in a quiet voice, suddenly shy. hvitserk had ivar. ivar was his family. why would he need anyone else?

hvitserk lets out a breathless laugh. “maybe. but i don’t have a wife. i don’t have children. i have nothing. unlike you. you always had everything…” he averts his gaze, embarrassed by the way he was laying himself and his feelings bare in front of his little brother.

ivar watches his brother as he stands up and stretches his back. when hvitserk walks past him, ivar grabbs his leg. the older one stops and looks down.

“i am sorry,” ivar says, his voice trembling. “it’s my fault—” a tear rolls down his cheek. “it’s my fault you’re alone. and i still don’t understand how you could forgive me…”

hvitserk blinks at ivar, not used to the youngest to be so emotional. then he crouches down and grabs ivar’s neck to pull him closer. “no matter what, ivar… i would always forgive you. you’re my brother.”

another tear rolls down ivar’s cheek as hvitserk presses a kiss to his forehead. “i love you.”

-

it’s almost midday when katja slips into igor’s room. “you need to get up,” she softly says while sitting down at the edge of the boy bed. “you can’t stay in your room forever.” her smile is gentle as her hand finds the way into his hair.

“i don’t want to get up,” igor mumbles and turns around, his back facing katja. “why should i get up?” his voice was trembling and she could see that the boy was close to crying again.

katja lets out a weak sigh before pulling her hand back. “there’s someone in the throne room who’d like to meet you. i’ve been told it’s urgent…” she says, waiting for any reaction from igor but he doesn’t move.

she stands up with another sign and walks towards the door. “please igor. he’s someone important.”

igor only moves when katja’s gone. he turns onto his back and stares up at the ceiling before he sits up in his bed. he should get up and get ready. if that someone was really that important he shouldn’t let him wait.

he quickly orders a servant to get dressed and walks out of his room.

-

“i told him someone is waiting for him but i don’t know if he’ll come,” katja mumbles as she comes to a halt beside ivar. “he’s…very upset about your alleged return to kattegat…” she looks at him, but his eyes were trained on the throne.

ivar doesn’t answer. he just stares ahead and hopes that igor would come and that he wouldn’t regret not returning. he told hvitserk he should go back to kattegat without him but his older brother refused. ‘where you go, i’ll go,’ hvitserk said. ‘it’s always been that way and it’ll stay like that.’

then the heavy doors open. “katja,” igor’s voice sounded. “who—” he stops dead in his tracks when he sees who was standing beside katja. “ivar?” his voice is quiet and weak and slowly ivar turns around.

he look at igor, a slight smile playing around his lips. “igor,” he says, waiting for any reaction from the boy.

for a few moments ivar and igor only stare at each other before a sob escapes igor’s throat and he runs towards ivar to throw his arms around him. ivar lets go of his crutch to properly embrace the boy while igor cries into his chest.

ivar feels tears in his own eyes while he hold igor close, pressing a kiss to the prince’s hair.

“i thought you left,” igor sniffles as he pulls back from the hug, confusion written all over his face. “i thought—”

ivar shakes his head and cups igor’s face. “i couldn’t leave you…or katja.” he glances at her with a warm smile. “you’ve become my family igor and soon, i will be a father again. i’d be a fool to leave all that behind, no?” that’s what hvitserk told me.

igor sniffles again before he nods. “and—and what about hvitserk? did he leave?” igor liked the older brother. he was fun, he was laid back. and he always accompanied igor to raid the kitchen at night.

“he didn’t leave,” ivar smiles, pulling igor against his chest again again. “he didn’t want to.”

igor slightly shifts in ivar’s arms and waves his hand at katja, motioning for her to join their hug. she hesitates for a second before ivar looks at her, a pleaded expression in his eyes. slowly she walks towards both of them before also embracing igor in a hug, leaning against ivar.

ivar puts one arm around her and pulls her in. “i love you,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple afterwards. there’s a small smile playing around katja’s lips as she stands in the middle of the throne room, her family embraced in her arms.

[starsofjewels]

HPQD: Pets

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This has been in my drafts for a hot minute, and I feel like it's time to have the second installment of the HPQD series before I start writing smut pieces 🤭. Enjoy xx

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Content: Language (Fenrir)

Barty Crouch (Sr)- Cat:

Contrary to popular belief, Barty will melt if you adopt an animal together. He grew up with dogs, as any good pureblood heir should, and a variety of kitchen cats and their numerous kittens. The moment you bring up wanting a pet he’ll scoff, and tell you he wants something that will be useful, and not simply another waste of food; an owl, perhaps, something bred to work. Of course, that’s not to say he won’t come with you to the pet shop, and the animal rescues, so that you don’t “make a foolish decision”. That is until the two of you come across a little kitten on one of your many trips to professional breeders. A perfect, grey little thing with darker stripes on her, the domestic tiger Barty would tell the breeder, who didn’t find it particularly funny. You have to take this cat home, you insist you do, and Barty agrees, more than happy to bring home his fluffy, weak little grey tiger. He spends countless amounts of money on this cat before it even sets foot in your house: the best, softest cat beds, the most expensive food and drink bowls, and luxury pet food that you are certain costs more than your trips to the market. It makes him happy, though, and you cannot deny him the pleasure of cradling the kitten in a towel and setting her down in your living room to explore your home, treating the thing as he would his own, human, child. You name the creature Lily (as in the tiger lily flower). Barty thinks he’s being quite clever, you say nothing. Lily, in true cat fashion, is not particularly stable in her showing of affection. She prefers you, but that may be because Barty’s office is quite cold, and he never lights the fireplace. Still, upon occasion Lily makes her rounds around the house, and you hear Barty talking to her as though she both understands and cares what he is saying. The cat, as it turns out, is a terrifyingly good mouser, and has even managed to snatch up a rat on occasion; you will never tell Barty how funny it is when he shrieks, finding a mouse running wild in his office, shrieking out for dear life.

Oh, Merlin! Darling, darling, come quick- There’s a mouse in the office! No, no I am not afraid of it, thank you, but I have work to do- And they carry all sorts of diseases. Can’t you teach Lily to leave them outside?

Fenrir Greyback- Tortoise:

The problem with Fenrir and certain animals is- well- wolves are natural predators. Cats? He will bark at it, make no mistake. Rabbits? Hamsters? Birds? You have about a day to bond with your precious pet, before it becomes nothing more than memories, feathers and fur. You suggest a dog, a new addition to his pack, he stares at you, half-offended: 

I’m a wolf! That’s essentially slavery, I can’t own a dog!

And so, you are left with limited options, and very little hope that you will ever find the pet of your dreams, much less something fluffy and cuddly. Fenrir attempts to fulfil your demands- Letting you snuggle him in his werewolf-y form. But he’s not always a wolf, and there’s a certain level of unnerving sentience when he looks at you, and licks you in some animal form of a kiss. By chance, one day at the office, you somehow end up in a conversation about one of your coworkers’ new tortoise, bought as a birthday present for her son. Just as you begin to question who would give a seven-year-old a rock with legs, you realise that a tortoise might just be the perfect animal for Fenrir, it comes with its own helmet, designed to keep it safe from predators. Your search for a tortoise ends in the local reptile shop, when you discover one no larger than your hand available for rehoming; a rescue tortoise, if you will. The operation to install a terrarium in your shed requires the assistance of a few of Fenrir’s Death Eater acquaintances, who teach you how to arrange the enchanted self-heating stones, and how you should properly assist the tortoise when it hibernates.

It takes Fenrir three full weeks of working in the shed to realise that his new companion lives there, and he freaks, like a child discovering a spider. He relaxes, eventually, in mild discontent that the reptile is taking over his space. He names him Lazy Fuck, but you call him Timmy. You can’t tell your new reptile-enthusiast friends the poor thing has such a name, after all.

God, does it do anything? All it does is sit around and eat that lettuce, lazy fucker- I have a name for him, Lazy Fuck! It suits him, doesn’t it? Well… you can call him Timmy, I’m calling him Lazy Fuck. 

Rufus Scrimgeour- Hunting Hounds:

Rufus is a little more serious when it comes to animals. He is a rather busy man, and his duties as Minister are much more important than taking care of a pet. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to leave the poor thing alone all day, and who knows how many nights, whilst you attend galas and dinners, and all of the perks that come with being the Minister’s little companion. You beg him for a dog, looking into doggy daycares close to the Ministry. A dog would need to be cared for whilst you are away, after all.He asks why you can’t just have a cat, or something small, and you give some vague response. 

Rufus caves solely on envy. 

He takes a weekend in the north, hunting, where one of his friends is accompanied by a small group of beagles. Because of those dogs Rufus does not win the competition they hold every hunt, and decides he must have his own pack of, much better, hounds. He gets himself a group of English pointers, which come in different, distinguishing colours, so he can tell them apart. More than likely, they all have classical names, from mythology, which he assures you are very well thought out- Think Marcus and Minerva, for the Roman gods of war and victory respectively. The house comes with ample space for the pointers to run about in the mornings and evenings, and upon disturbingly close inspection he eventually settles for a “luxury” dog care facility, the same one copious other ministers use for their own pedigree dogs. Rufus is rather happy with these dogs, but he quickly realises that it was you who begged for an animal, and he is not one to deny you. He comes home one day with a little, long haired dachshund, dressed up with a bandana in your favourite colour, and those tiny shoes rich people tend to buy for their dogs, named Frank Furter, of course. He will give in to the sausage puns, as long as they remain reasonably discreet, and you never tell people the dachshund has a surname. Frank stays with you in the house when Rufus goes out for his trips, running up to you with the prey his powerful siblings bring as though he helped.

I know you were upset the pointers are for my hunting, so I brought you a present. Look, don’t you love his little legs? He’s cute, isn’t he? Just like you, my love- here, I’ll put him down for you, why don’t you get to know each other?

Lord Voldemort- Guinea Pigs:

The Dark Lord’s household is cursed by snakes. He speaks to them in the darkness, large and small, and they come to him, as requested. They never hiss or bite in any way untoward, but you still find them everywhere. And it is not fair. He can call for serpents at any time, and yet you still have no pet to call your own. Nagini is long gone, returned to the ancient jungles, and mother to a clutch of snakes almost as large as she. He has his own history with animals, and not a pleasant one. As sure as you are that Lord Voldemort has matured from his days as the orphan, pre-magical Tom Riddle, something leaves you unsure. There is something odd about his behaviour, as he coos at the grass snakes who appear in the garden, and sneak into the warmth of your kitchen over the winter. Enough is enough, you deserve a pet too. 

Your home has ample outbuildings you can use to your heart’s content. He has no reason for them but simple storage, and merely batting your eyelashes and asking for one for your personal use will get you exactly what you’d like.

And you would like pets.

The Dark Lord puts his head to the table and groans when you ask him for animals. Eventually, he hands you pamphlets and brochures for all of the best Guinea pig breeders in the country. You may find it strange, but he has his reasons: Hamsters are irritating and die in odd ways, cats and dogs require too much attention, and he will not let you disgrace the name of serpents by trying to put one around your neck and wearing it as a statement piece to freak out Lucius Malfoy.

You get two female Guinea pigs- One black and white, the other brown and white, with fluffy hair you could brush if you so wanted to. They are named Lolli and Pop, and you will never explain why your new animal friends have such odd names; you just think it’s funny, but you pretend there is some deep-seated meaning as to why. 

The Death Eaters find it hilarious that the Dark Lord owns a pair of Guinea pigs, and even more hilarious when you begin fashioning tiny robes for your pets, complete with a selection of hats. He doesn’t particularly mind, not now that his followers have made it a point to give him Guinea pig-related items as opposed to candles and jewels. He has saved a small fortune on food and toys for your pets, after all.

Ugh- Another luxury grooming set from the Rookwoods. Is this amusing because of your little rats, or because I am hairless? Both? I thought as much. Put this with the others, and be thankful the money you are saving me on products for those infernal beasts is greater than a little childhood teasing. They said thank you? They cannot talk, dear.

Igor Karkaroff- Class Fish:

Igor despises all animals. He will accept no debate or argument on this. He hates them. There is no heartwarming moment when you bring him a stray dog and he falls in love with it, or an orphaned owlet you raise together- No animals. Full stop. You have very little options, as he will find a pet in your home in a matter of hours, and have you send it back from whence it came. But, you realise, he has no power over your classroom or your office. He may be High Master, but your rooms are yours to decorate as you see fit, and you want an animal. It doesn’t take very long to decide on either a reptile or something aquatic- Small rodents are noisy, and not much fun to play with during the day, anything too big is off limits completely. You think of a bunny rabbit, but it would be cruel to keep the poor thing in a tiny cage, when it should be out roaming the grass. It comes down to the popular vote of your upper classes, who all decide you should have an aquarium. Fish are more relaxing to look at, apparently. Working in a school with students whose pocket money amounts to more than your entire yearly salary comes in quite handy for acquiring an aquarium, an impulsive purchase from a boy’s mother, brought to you from years in their cellar, and very quickly you begin to amass a collection of items for said fish: live plants, gravel and even the fish itself. One of your juniors brings you a beautiful, red and pink betta fish in a little bag, and you are more than happy to take him in. Igor knows you’re up to something, now that you’ve barred him from entering your classroom, and have sworn all of your students to complete secrecy. He won’t ask, he assumes you’re having a moment, and are doing something odd- His current bet is painting your classroom orange.  

Although you are a little sad that your betta fish cannot live with any fishy friends, you understand that the creature will probably turn violent, and you cannot handle the possibility of explaining a fish massacre to a collection of twelve-year-olds.

The name of your new pet is put up to vote, again, and they decide, in shockingly agreeable fashion, that  it will be called Igor Sharkaroff, one of your personal favourite name options, and the one you voted for. 

Igor, unable to handle the mystery any longer, forces himself into your classroom, only to be met with his namesake fish. He rolls his eyes, tuts to you in words you know are swears and leaves, never to speak of the fish again. 

Until he finds out you've named it after him. 

Yes, I know I told you the classroom was yours to decorate, but I did not mean this! Ugh- No, the name is not funny, it’s a disgrace... Alright, it is a little bit funny, but I am not burying that thing when it dies. What do you mean, fish funeral?

[musicalmystery]

Hello! May I please request a romantic fic of Fredrick Frankenstein and fem!Reader are engaged and Reader comes with Fredrick to Frankenstein Castle and, after helping him with his experiment, they finally get married?

Married in Transylvania

Frederick Frankenstein x fem!reader

Frederick was quite annoyed at the moment. One of his shouldn’t wouldn’t stop comparing him to his late grandfather who was a disgrace to science. His grandfather was Victor Frankenstein, a man commonly known for being obsessed with bringing the dead back to life. No matter where he went he was always in his grandfather’s shadow because that’s all everyone saw him as, everyone except his fiancé y/n. She only saw him for him and that was it, simple as that. When y/n learned about who Frederick’s grandfather was she didn’t care, she didn’t make any judgments or asked him about his grandfather.

She just wanted to know him better, not Frederick Frankenstein, just Frederick. That’s what made him fall in love with y/n. Frederick couldn’t wait to go back home to his loving, caring, and amazing fiancé and sweep her in his arms making her feel like the queen she is because she always did that for him. Unfortunately however during his rant about how his grandfather’s work is dead he stabbed his leg with a scalpel without realizing it. He adjusted his position and crossed his legs siding it and said suppressing his pain, “Class… is…dismissed!” As the students all started leave Frederick called for his student Carlson to bring him surgical gauze, tape, and disinfectant.

“Mr. Frankenstein?” A man approached him carrying a metal box.

“Fron kon steen!” Frederick responded through his teeth in both annoyance and pain.

“My name is Gerhart Falkstein.” They walked down the sidewalk discussing the castle Frederick inherited in Transylvania.

“One hundred thousand dollars?!” Frederick asked in disbelief.

“Oh, at least sir. The land alone is worth a small fortune.”

“But I can’t just drop everything and leave. I have responsibilities and obligations. I can’t leave my fiancé for this, I won’t leave her.”

“Do you have a hundred thousand of them sir? You can bring your fiancé long, think of it as a pre honeymoon or it would be a romantic place to wed.”

Freddy looked at Gerhart contemplating his offer before asking, “How long will this whole thing take?”

“A week. Ten days at most.”

“I’ll have to think it over. It’s not easy just to pick up and…” Frederick trailed off as the music seemed into a dark and forgotten part of his brain. He approached the violinists and made conversation with them before smashing the violin in two in a hypnotic state before snapping out of it. He went to his fiancé and discussed going to the castle and selling it. They decided to go together and befriended Igore and Ingora. Ingora obviously fancied Frederick but y/n didn’t mind because he made it clear that he was in love with his fiancé and didn’t entertain Ingora’s flirtatious behavior but it ceased as the two women grew closer. Y/N studied Victor Frankenstein’s work after Frederick took interest in it so she could better help and support his experiments. She watched how he changed and she loved him still but it did scare her at first. Y/N adapted to his new found expectance of his grandfather and his work.

After the incident with Frankenstein’s monster they got married in the castle after they decided to keep it and moved in. Ingora was the maid of honor and Igore was the best man. It was absolutely beautiful, their friends and family came down and everything was perfect. It felt like a fairytale, they loved each other unconditionally no matter who their families were or what changes they made. That was all that mattered which was why they were thrilled to have a wedding in Transylvania.

[maochira]

Hi! Love all your content <3 Especially the ones with the Bastard Munchen Players💗 May I request dating headcanons with Igor and Bachman? Thank you!

Of course! I love writing for the Bastard München guys <3

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, establishes relationship, fluff

Igor Schneider

-he's not the best at expressing his emotions, so he tends to come off as cold. He tries to show more towards you, though

-because he's bad with words he tries to have actions speak for his love. Either with physical touch or acts of service

-he's a surprisingly good cook and will make you any meal you ask for

-even though you're dating he saved you with your full name in his contacts. No heart emojies, just your first and last name

-he's not the most romantic guy but he loves you a lot!!

Bachman

-he doesn't look like it, but he's super shy in the beginning of the relationship and gets flustered easily

-he's the type of guy who always seems strong around others but as soon as he falls in love he becomes a big softie towards his partner

-he's always the big spoon when cuddling. He very rarely agrees to be the little spoon

-he's super overprotective, but he doesn't notice it. If you point it out, he doesn't understand what's so overprotective about his actions

[bookshelf-dust]

gentle fingers, gentler boy

carmen berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,589

warnings: swearing, joking mentions of arson, one donna mention, i don’t think anything else??

synopsis: carmy needs a haircut—desperately. or so natalie tells him. she sends him to you, and it’s safe to say carmy never would’ve expected a trim would turn into the best date he’s ever had in his life.

a/n: hello, my loves! don’t even ask my why this fic has taken me so long to write because i couldn’t tell you. but i do imagine it has something to do with the fact that i have the attention span of a goldfish these days. anyhow, i wrote this as a kind of predecessor to this fic, because something about carmy and his hairdresser gf is so special to me. let me know what you think!! happy reading <33

————

“You really do need a haircut, Bear.”

Sugar leans up against the office door frame. Her younger brother is hunched over the desk, an Igor incarnate, flipping through a pile of papers Cicero left for him. 

Richie’s voice booms throughout the kitchen. “I been tellin’ him that, Sug! It needs a wash, too. He’s startin’ to look like Jack…Jack…” He snaps his fingers, searching for a name. “The psycho asshole from The Shining!”

“Jack Torrence,” Marcus chirps.

“Jack Torrence!” Richie claps, making Sugar roll her eyes. She moves closer to Carmen, leaning against the corner of the desk. She crosses her arms. 

“I told you, Carm, you can go see my girl. She’s never done me wrong.” 

That small, gentle smile she has grows on her lips. Natalie gently pushes her brother’s shoulder. “And hey, she stopped me from getting bangs again a few weeks ago.”

Richie’s hands fly upward, pressing together in a prayer pose. “Thank fuck. Bangs were never your look, babe.”

“Shut up, Richie!” Sugar and Carmen’s voices ring out simultaneously, as if they’d rehearsed for this very moment of synchronization.

Carmy’s clogs drag against the tile floor as he braces his palms against the desktop and pushes himself backwards. He scrubs his face with his hands, leaving it tinged red when he finally relents.

He looks up at his sister, a firm wrinkle formed between her brows. Carmen huffs.

“What did you say her name was?” Carmy asks, eyes darting to the clock, searching for the time only to realize no one ever fixed the damn thing. “Hey, Richie! Can you get some fuckin’ batteries in here?”

Sugar’s eyes squeeze shut at the volume Carm’s voice has just reached. But nevertheless, she pinches her nose and says your name. 

“She’s like, fifteen minutes down the road. She went to school for it, she respects shy people, and I promise–she’s not gonna cut your ear off.”

Richie rounds the corner at that exact moment, a pile of double A’s shoved in his pocket. He pulls the analog clock off the wall and pries open the back panel. “Oh, you mean like that time Mikey snipped the tip of his ear clean–”

“Oh my god, enough, Richard!” Sugar’s hands fly around in front of her face. Unfortunately it only encourages Richie further, laughing to himself as he snaps four batteries into place. He’s still laughing—clapping his hands together because he’s so tickled—when he walks back toward the front of the house. 

Carmen’s fist covers his mouth. He’s tempted to laugh himself, but he at least knows better by now. Natalie sighs loud enough for the people across the street to hear. 

“Look, Carm. I’ll even make the appointment for you if that would help, but it’s gotta happen. You look like shit.”

Carmy snorts, standing up from the wonky office chair. “Thanks, Nat.”

Sugar’s phone is already in her hand. 

“So that’s a yes? What time would be best? Actually, I’ll just tell you when you’re going. Settled.”

————

“You getting off, Leigh?”

Your coworker ties her hair up in an artfully messy bun. “Yeah, babe. I took a half day because it’s date night tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, shimmying her way across the floor so she can plant a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Your mom got the kids?” You ask, laughing to yourself as you rinse the leftover conditioner from your sink. 

Leigh claps her hands. “All weekend, girl!” 

You toss your gloves in the trash, letting her hug you and bounce up and down in glee. She deserves this. She hasn’t gotten a night out with her husband in months, their three-year-old twins keeping them more than occupied.

“I hope you have fun tonight. Drink something with Irish cream in it for me, will you?” 

Leigh’s hands pat your cheeks gently. “Oh, you know I will. Just wish you were getting out there too.”

You wave her away, and she’s quick to hold up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Is Natalie’s brother still coming in today?”

Your eyes dart to the clock over her head. “Should be here in like, five minutes.”

The doorbell chimes. 

Both yours and Leigh’s heads snap in that direction. 

“Or…now.”

“Oh, fucking Christ.”

Your eyes flick back to each other immediately, having spoken at the exact same time. Leigh is not gonna let your outburst go. 

There’s already a devilish grin growing across her face. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?”

You dart around her. “No. Those words never left my mouth.”

She catches you by the belt loop. “You’re right, I believe your exact words were ‘Oh fucking Christ, he could bend me over right here.’” Leigh’s laughter bubbles up and you fear she might keel over. 

“That is an exaggeration,” you huff. 

Leigh slings her worn out, bright red purse over her shoulder. “Bet you were thinking it though.” She risks a glance over her shoulder. “You’re not wrong though. His arms are huge. And you better go help him before we get a bad Yelp review.”

You start to wave her away. “Yeah, alright.” You follow her towards the front desk. “Have fun tonight,” you shout, “and remember to make sure you have meds for tomorrow’s hangover.”

She fake gasps, pausing just beside where Carmen is standing. “Me? Hungover? Never.” Leigh lowers her sunglasses just slightly and directs her next few words at the man in front of her. “She’ll take real good care of you, youngest Berzatto.”

The doorbell chimes as Leigh makes her way out to her beat up Mustang, leaving you and Carmy alone out front. 

He laughs awkwardly, shuffling towards the front counter to meet you.

“Sorry about her,” you say. “She’s full of it. Anyway, Carmen, right? Natalie told me you’d try and come by today.”

Carmy’s cheeks burn with embarrassment from being put on the spot. But also because you’re so…pretty. He manages to pull together a few coherent words. 

“She really said try?” he asks, the barest of smiles gracing his lips.

You cross your arms and walk over to your station. “No. It was more of ‘He’ll be there at 4:30 tomorrow or else I’m going to burn down The Bear and keep the insurance money for myself.’”

Carmen scratches at his curls. “Yeah, that I believe.”

You gently pat the back of your leather chair. “You can sit whenever you’re ready. I realize I never really introduced myself.” You say your name, and even if it’s a name Carm has heard a hundred times before, it somehow sounds hypnotizing falling off your lips. 

The leather backing is cold through Carmy’s t-shirt. He hopes the shiver that moves down his spine when you thread your fingers through his hair passes off as the coinciding goosebumps. 

“So, what are we thinking today, Carmen?”

His big blue eyes blink at you through the mirror. “Carmy,” he says.

“Hm?” you hum, running a wide-toothed comb carefully through his curls so that nothing snags. 

“You don’t have to call me Carmen. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” A low laugh tumbles over his lips. “Carmy is fine.”

You smile at him. “Okay, Carmy. What would you like me to do with your hair today? Buzz cut? Mohawk?” You walk around to face him head on. “Extensions?”

You notice how nervously he plays with his hands. But you get it. You’re hoping to make him as comfortable as you can, and not just for that good Google review.

Carmy runs a hand over his mouth, hiding the sweet smile that’s growing there. The crinkles by his eyes give it away. You’re so fucking charming he can’t stand it. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking just a trim? It’s kinda long over my eyes, and sometimes it’s good to see things.” You giggle. 

Good god, how’s he gonna get through this?

“Maybe a little shorter on the sides, too.”

“Like a mullet?” You quip.

He snorts. “Nah, not a full mullet. Maybe where it’s barely noticeable that it’s shorter there? I’m also shit at taking care of it, so if you could help with that…”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth. Carmy has to clear his throat, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “How ‘bout this. I’ll take you to the sink and give it a wash, and then we’ll trim it, and I can have you help me style it so it’s easier when you’re at home?”

Carmy nods. “Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.” 

Your hand slides across the back of his shoulders as you move away and towards the back room full of head-sized basins. “Come on then, Mr. Berzatto. Let’s wash that pretty head of yours.”

————

“That feels so good,” Carmen says, the words leaving his mouth before he has a moment to think them over. “Wait—is that a weird thing to say?”

You laugh from your place behind him. “No, not at all. That’s why I keep my nails a little longer, because my clients always tell me this is the best part.” Your hands are covered in a lavender-scented shampoo, your fingertips massaging the foam into his scalp. “A good head scratch does wonders for the soul.”

You watch Carmy’s lips lift at the corners. His eyes are closed, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he dozed off. You’re always happy to keep a conversation going with clients, but the silence is just as well.

The sounds of foils getting folded in place by your coworker out front, the air conditioner, the radio—it’s all oddly soothing. The radio station Leigh always sets it on has the oddest selection of music choices for one given channel. Not that you mind that either. 

You rinse Carmen’s hair out and apply conditioner to the mids and ends of his curls. You blindly grab a comb, muscle memory putting it in your grasp in seconds.

Carmy swears he’s gonna knock out. He’s trying about as hard as he did in school when he knew he should be paying attention to whatever math lesson but couldn’t keep his eyes open. And when your words reach his ears, he thinks you’ve just read his mind. Sensed the sleep pricking at his eyelids. 

“You do have really nice hair, Carmy. Anyone else in your family have curls?”

You watch the way his brows knit together. “I think my mom? You’d never know it though. She’s straightened it every day since I was a teenager, like even when we weren’t leaving the house.”

You focus on your final rinse of his hair, allowing him to continue. “When I was a kid though, if she showered before bed and I needed her, her hair would be all wet and curly. That’s the only time I saw it like that.”

Carmy sits up when you wrap a thin towel around his head, holding it secure as he follows you back to your station. 

“Leigh, the woman leaving when you came in? She has lots of clients like that. A lot of people weren’t taught how to take care of their curly hair.”

“Is that a hint?” Carmen quips. It makes you snort. 

“Just a gentle one.”

Carmy watches while you cut his hair. Every once in a while your tongue will poke out, or you’ll wiggle your hips to a song on the radio. When you’re almost finished, what Carmen thinks is a Madonna song comes on. 

You start humming, and Carmy knows he’s done for. Richie would call him whipped. He probably will tomorrow morning, just by reading Carm’s face. 

“Out of the sky, I close my eyes…heaven help me.”

Carmy lets out a little laugh because you’re doing this little dance as you sift through his curls. You hear it, and it only encourages you more. 

“Big Madonna fan?” he asks, his hand rubbing over his mouth to hide the boyish grin there. The tattoo on his hand catches your eye. 

“She’s good for the soul.”

You crouch in front of him, rummaging through a cabinet for he doesn’t know what. “Your tattoos are pretty, by the way,” you say. It takes him by surprise. 

“Oh. Thanks.”

You emerge with two bottles. “Do people not usually compliment them?” You spray his hair down with cool water, getting it to the stage of damp you need for the products to work. 

Carmy laughs lowly. Maybe with a little hint of embarrassment. “Nah, they usually ask me what the hell they are or if I was drunk when I got ‘em.”

“Were you?”

He meets your playful gaze. “Only for a few.” Your smile is downright gleeful. 

“M’kay, Carm. Let me give you the rundown.” He straightens and you get a glimpse of the chef he left at The Bear to visit you today. “So this is a leave-in conditioner. After you shower, you put just a little of this in your hands—like this—and kinda run it through your hair all over. Just so it’s in there well.”

You demonstrate, and for the first time, Carmy finally understands how people can look at him and question his ability to cook so seamlessly. That’s the way you do hair. Like it’s as easy as breathing for you. 

“And this is a gel. It’s super lightweight, so it won’t feel gross or anything, and it’s not expensive either. You wanna use a little more of this, but not by much. You can do the same sort of thing, because your hair takes shape really easily since it’s not damaged any. And once that’s distributed, I want you to scrunch it some, just to get any excess product, but also to help any curls that need encouragement.”

You bite your lip because Carmy is nodding along, giving you his complete attention and it’s fucking adorable. 

“And if there’s any curls by your face or anything, you can use your fingers to define them so they look how you want. You think you can do all that?”

Carmy laughs. “Not a chance.” Then you’re both laughing, and it feels so comfortable anyone would think you’d known each other for years. 

“It takes practice. I’m gonna give you these to take home and use.” Your hand disappears in your back pocket for just a moment. “But if you want to put your number in my phone, I can always send you instructions if you need help…”

Carmy pauses. Freezes, even. You look at him nervously, afraid that maybe your ability to read the room has evaporated. Luckily, he proves you wrong. 

“Wow. That was smooth.”

You exhale and laugh into the back of your hand. “I’m never that smooth, I don’t know how I managed that,” you chuckle. Carmy’s fingers fly over your keyboard. 

“Thank you for today, really. I usually avoid the hairdresser at all costs.”

“Sugar did tell me that,” you grin. 

“M-maybe I could make you dinner or something, for putting up with me…?”

Your face warms. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Carmy blinks. His phone goes off where you’ve shot him a text with just your name and a smiley face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, cool. Alright, yeah. What do you like?”

“I wouldn’t say no to pasta. Pasta is good in all forms.”

————

“You can tell me if you hate it. I won’t be offended.”

“I think you might have a nervous breakdown though, and you’re too pretty for that.”

Carmy blushes, shaking his head at you. 

“What?” you laugh. “It’s true.” Your voice has a sing-song lilt to it. Over the past few weeks you’ve gotten to know Carmy a bit better. He’s been busy though, so it’s taken longer than expected to have dinner together. 

He made up for it by providing you with pasta and cheesecake for dessert. He’s wearing this thick sweater, your eyes locking on his forearms where he’s rolled up the sleeves. 

Sugar was so excited when you texted her after his hair appointment. 

Natalie B: How’d it go? Was he a total pain in the ass?

You: it went well! got him all sorted out. he offered me dinner as a thank you (after he paid, of course). would that weird you out??

Natalie B: OMG NO!! He’s got such a giant stick up his ass, maybe your charm pulled it out! Go have fun. Leigh was telling me you hadn’t been on a date in forever last time I was in anyhow.

You: brb blocking both of you shitheads ♥️

You hadn’t expected a haircut to lead to any of this, but sitting here, in Carmy’s sparsely furnished apartment, looking at the soft smile on his face and the nervous way he’s fussing with his fingers as you eat the dinner he made you, you’re grateful.

Not that you’ll tell Natalie that. Or Leigh. They don’t need that ego boost. 

You wipe your mouth on a napkin and look up to see that Carmy is gazing at you expectantly. You laugh, his eye contact making you a little nervous. 

“It’s good, Carm. Really good. You can eat.”

He swipes his hand down his face, but when it comes down to grab his fork, he lets you see his smile. “I’m glad you like it. Not too much parsley or anything? I didn’t add lemon because Sugar mentioned you saying you didn’t like pasta with too much lemon juice in it.”

Your mouth drops open. That’s such a small, easy to forget thing. Maybe you will have to give Nat a hug. 

You reach out to touch his hand. Tentatively, just in case it’s too far. “That’s so sweet, Carmy. It’s perfect, really. And honestly the lemon thing is from one very overpowering pasta experience. Maybe whatever you make me will be better.”

Carmen takes a big bite of pasta and a swig of beer so he has time to collect himself. “Maybe we can fix your lemon-related trauma.”

“As long as there’s a backup snack in case the lemon PTSD can’t be fixed.”

You both burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of dinner goes by, filled with conversation about everything and nothing—Carmy’s lack of knowledge about current television, your love of reading and need for someone to share the plots with. 

Carmen is making you a plate to take home with you when he’s finally psyched himself up to ask his question. He says your name and you peer at him from your spot against the counter. 

“I-uh…I’ve been trying to do my hair the way you taught me, but I can’t get it right. I was wonderin’ if you’d show me? Maybe? You don’t have to—”

“Of course I can. All you had to do was ask.” You push off the counter and beam at him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

You’re lucky you already learned the way to his bathroom so that your streak of confidence would continue working so well. And when you squeeze out some of the hair gel into Carmy’s hands, you know he just needed an excuse. He’s got it down pat. 

He runs his hands through his hair, scrunching clumps together every now and then, finger-curling the pieces up front and by his ears. Now you’re just waiting to see what he really wanted to say. 

You cross your arms, attempting to look serious, but you can’t hold back the grin spreading across your face. 

Carmen looks over at you, drying his hands now that they’re free of product. He’s never been great at reading people, but that look in your eye tells him he’s a shit actor. 

“So, that didn’t fool you, huh?”

You giggle. “Not at all, Berzatto. You couldn’t even fake how well you’ve learned to do your hair.”

Carmy takes a step closer to you, rubbing his nose self-consciously. “I’m very bad at saying what I’m thinking. Or saying what I want.”

“I can see that.”

He squints at you, his lips ticking up just slightly. 

“So what is it you want but are too scared to say?” you start. “Do we need to play hangman?” 

That would normally get a laugh out of him, but he’s too on edge. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, just fucking say it, Carm. 

“I wanna kiss you.”

Your ears burn. You release your bottom lip from where it was pinned between your teeth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Please do.”

You push up on your tiptoes, suddenly bursting with excitement and hoping that’ll convey to Carmen that he doesn’t need to be nervous because you want this just as bad. 

It works. 

You put your hands on Carmy’s collarbones the second his fingers slip into your hair. Your nervous system lights on fire, thoughts of how much surface area his palms cover racing through your mind. He kisses you all shy and hesitant at first, like he’s nervous he won’t do what you’re hoping. 

His lips are warm, and you can feel the spots where he’s chewed them raw. You can’t help but think that kissing him might be a good way to break that habit. His nose presses into your cheek, tickling you and making you giggle.

Carmen pulls away, smiling at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Your nose was tickilin’ my cheek.”

“Oh? Like this?” He starts dragging his nose across your face and then down to your neck when he feels you start to laugh harder. He thinks he’s finally cracked the code. It seems like pasta and nose tickles are the proper way into your heart. 

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner from @steph-speaks

[paladin--strait]

14 for igor in fic form please🫶🏻!!!

trying to wrap presents - igor shesterkin

-

it’s the week before christmas and igor and i are sitting on the floor, surrounded by a complete wrapping paper hurricane. there’s a tree in the corner that looks cute, at least.

but everything else? total mess. torn paper, ribbons everywhere, and some seriously questionable attempts at wrapping presents. i don’t know how we managed to make it so complicated, but here we are.

i glance over at igor, who’s hunched over a gift, his big hands trying and failing to fold a corner of wrapping paper neatly. he looks like he’s never seen a roll of paper in his life. it’s actually kind of hilarious.

“baby...” i say, trying not to laugh too much, “you’ve wrapped presents before, right?”

he looks up at me, sighs dramatically, and then shrugs. “i’m a hockey player, not a gift-wrapping pro.” he says, his accent seeping through his disappointed tone.

“i mean, you’re supposed to be good at everything,” i tease, deciding to joke with him a bit. “you’re a literal superhero.”

he grins, a little cocky but mostly just amused at himself. “i’m great at everything…except this. wrapping paper is so slippery.” he says, looking down at it with an almost sad expression on his face.

i chuckle and grab the roll of paper from him. “alright, let me show you how it’s done.” i cut a new piece, start folding it with one hand while trying to keep it together.

“you make it look easy,” he says, looking at his own lopsided attempt. “i make one mistake and just get frustrated.” he holds up a sad little piece of paper that was supposed to be a square but is more of a weird trapezoid. “i’ll stick to slapping pucks around and making the best saves ever. you can do the delicate stuff.”

we both burst out laughing, and before we know it, it’s past midnight, and we’re still on the floor, surrounded by crumpled paper and tape. somehow, we finally finish everything. it’s like a miracle. i look at the pile of gifts we’ve wrapped. some of them are definitely unique but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

“so, team effort?” he says, standing up and stretching like he’s just finished a game, a loud grunt leaving his mouth and i swear i heard a few muscles popping.

“definitely,” i say, grinning. “you were the muscle, i was the finesse!" i giggle, flexing my muscles.

“next year, we’re hiring someone,” he says, clearly exhausted but still with that mischievous grin of his. “but honestly, i kinda love the mess. it’s...us.”

“yeah,” i say, pulling him in for a hug. “next year, we just buy pre-wrapped stuff...or maybe just gift cards,” i joke.

he laughs and kisses the top of my head. “maybe.”

and with that, we collapse on the couch in each others arms, surrounded by our very pile of interestingly shaped gifts. they weren't perfect, but the experience was definitely memorable and i just know that we both look forward to doing it all again next year.