#also little wrinkle is hot so true

[missswritesalot]

Can I request something with Robb stark x shy reader. She is very quiet and a good wife too rob, but she loves seeing him be a true king to his people so when someone comes along and tries to knock him down a few pegs she speaks up and reminds said person of who they are speaking to leaving Robb speechless and a little turned on. You can end it there or add in a little smut if you want. Thank youuu

A/N requests open! Hope you enjoy, anon! There is just a sprinkle of nsfw at the end, but I tagged it with smut just to be safe ;) i think i used the word shy like a million times. Reblog/Comment if you want more!

You and your husband, Robb, were touring the North and providing supplies to the smallfolk to support them through the Winter. There were many grievances to address and you held court at all the small towns.

You hated the attention, and it was a small mercy that you rarely had to speak. Even when Robb needed your counsel, he asked for it in private so you weren’t embarrassed. The eyes of the people on you were enough to mortify you, yet you bore your discomfort silently and stood by his side.

At one such hearing, Robb ordered the Lords of the lesser Northern houses to visit. You were seated next to him on your throne, Greywind sleeping on the raised floor at your feet.

“The old ways have served the North fruitfully for years. Listen carefully, one war does not make a boy a man and you are yet to know the ways of the world.” Lord Karstark said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Robb.

It was the third time he had questioned your husband in front of his Council. You were furious.

All Robb had suggested was reducing the great burden of supporting lesser houses with tithes from the peasants. Many smallfolks families were missing men and weapons due to the war, and winter was coming. It would be his first Winter as King of the North and he wanted all his subjects to survive, not just the noblemen.

You thought it was admirable. You also knew how hard he worked, spending almost all nights this week pouring over papers and accounts.

“Don’t forget yourself, I am the King,” Robb chided him. Greywind woke up and went to him, a silent threat.

“No man that calls himself King is a true-“ Lord Karstark began in his crotchety old voice. Anger coursed through your veins. How dare this senile old man try to insult your husband.

You cleared your throat. The hall fell silent. Robb frowned and turned to look at you. His wife was a woman of few words but they were all worth hearing.

“My King husband would have no need of repeating his station if you would remember it, my Lord. And if you cannot, then perhaps in the evening of one’s life we must accept our limitations and resign to things we are capable of.” You said calmly, yet sharply. Robb’s jaw dropped in awe.

It took Karstark’s slow mind a moment longer to process.

“Control your tongue, woman,” he said said, eyes wild, pointing to you.

“Disrespect the Queen and you will feel my blade,” Robb yelled, stepping down from the throne and pulling out Ice, just as the direwolf by his side leapt into action.

Karstark did not know when to keep hush. He retorted back sarcastically, and the altercation ended with him being dragged to the dungeons for his impunity. The other lords were also greatly displeased with him, for now they had no chance of changing the King’s mind about restoring their allowances.

You were glad to see the end of the day, and walked into the chambers of your current abode with Robb trailing behind you.

“Lord Karstark demands hot oil for his feet, did you hear it, darling?” Robb said, crushing the piece of correspondence he read. “To send his demands with servants even when imprisoned. The gall of him.” He chuckled.

“I’ve had it up to here with that old bastard,” you said angrily. You let your hair down and started running your fingers through it roughly. The more you thought of it, the more your anger flared.

“How dare he set foot in your court, dine and dwell in our hospitality, and feel entitled to disrespect you like that? I will not stand for it, Robb.” You said, tugging at the lacing and stepping out of your gray court dress.

“Age does not guarantee wisdom, darling. Experience does. And the old fool has none.” Robb said, walking up to you and resting his hands on your shoulders. He pushed your hair to the side and kissed up your neck from your shoulders to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him more access. After a while he turned you around and kissed your mouth. You savored his languid kisses. His hands slowly pushed your chemise over your shoulders till it hung just above your breasts.

You pulled away, and leaned back, his strong arms holding you up.

“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, love” you said shyly. You were bold in your anger but the shyness was starting to creep in now. “I love you, and I cannot bear to see you insulted after you pour your soul into this Kingdom.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were fantastic,” Robb said, apparently unable to keep his lips off of you. You gasped as he nipped at the bottom of your throat. “I would like to see the wolf in my little wife more often.”

You giggled at his words, and he walked you backwards till your calves hit the bed. Your chemise dropped to your hips and his hands made quick work of finding your breasts.

Your hands came up to cover yourself.

“Robb, the candles,” you said, eyes wide. His own blue ones lit up with mirth.

“I know now that you are not shy, let me see what is mine, darling.” He whispered, pushing your chemise to the floor. You stepped out of it, naked as the day you were born. Your skin felt hot under his hungry gaze.

“Lie back, Y/N,” he said, licking his lips and pushing you down on the bed. “I wish to show you some of my appreciation.” He knelt before you with a wink.

Robbs hands found your knees and he spread them apart. Your hands twisted into his auburn hair in surprise.

And there was nothing shy about the sounds you made that night.

[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 8k!!! You deserve all the love and more <3 also the holiday/winter theme is so so so cute!! Literally cannot even begin to describe how much I adore you and your talent and the fact that you give back and share your wonderful writing with us makes me so unbelievably happy <3

Can I request a hot cocoa drabble with Remus and the prompt wrapping paper from the 2nd list? Much love to you!! And congratulations again!!

I adore you! Ty for requesting angel <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 653 words

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Remus carefully folds the wrapping paper over itself, lining the triangle up against the side of his box. He curses. 

You giggle. “How are you so regimented and so bad at this?” 

“Hush.” He rolls his eyes, reaching across you for the tape. “It’s fine.” 

“The label is showing,” you say, trying to be gentle but only hitting amused. “You can’t leave it like that, she’s gonna know what it is.” 

“I’ll cut a square of wrapping paper to cover that part.” 

“Another patch job?” You shake your head at him, grinning. “Rem, I can’t let you bring these to the function. They’re an embarrassment.” 

“The function,” says Remus, cutting through the wrapping paper with a pointed slice, “is already going to have gifts wrapped by James, which always look like he’s let Harry do them, and Sirius is most likely going to bring his in bags. I guarantee ours won’t be the worst there.” 

“It’s just a little embarrassing,” you murmur, really only teasing him. You start folding a ribbon into gentle curves on the top of your box. “I thought I had this really competent boyfriend, but…” 

“Didn’t I tell you to hush?” Remus asks, but his laughter betrays him. The light from your tree smoothes out the lines of his face, his eyes warm and glittering and lashes kissing at the corners. You wish suddenly that you had a camera on hand, but there’s no chance film could capture how perfectly happy he looks.

Remus smooths tape over his patch of wrapping paper with swift, vaguely menacing movements. “I’ll have you know, I am very competent,” he says. 

“It’s gonna take a knife to open that with all the tape on it,” you observe solemnly.

“I am very competent,” he repeats, and you suck in a breath when he locks his hands around your ankles, dragging you to him with one swift motion. You can forget how strong Remus is, sometimes. He’s not very physical usually, but you’ve riled him into playfulness. “You ask Lily tomorrow who the most competent man in her home is, and you get back to me on what she says, yeah?” 

“Well,” you’re giggling, caught under his stern gaze and bubbling with giddy anticipation, “if you limit it to the men, the bar can’t be very high. Lily and I are more competent than the three of you.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“You can look at my gifts, for starters.” 

Remus has an excellent poker face. He squeezes your calf at the jab, and your nervous giggling intensifies. “We’ll see how you feel about your competence when you make your own tea tomorrow.” 

“No wait! Wait.” You get into his lap, trying your hardest to school your features into some sort of contrition. Smooth your hands up and down his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I love you. Have I told you I love you lately?” 

“Not without ulterior motive,” Remus says drily. 

Your lips turn down in a real frown. “That’s not true.” 

“No.” He rolls his eyes, grunting as he pulls you further up his lap. “It’s not, lovely. What, you’re the only one who gets to tease?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, teasing. 

Remus chuffs like you’re something else, but his lips touching to your nose are gentle. “So what if I’m not the best at wrapping? You can’t make your own tea.” 

“I can…it’s just not as good as when you do it.” 

“Some could argue that’s a much more everyday sort of competence, dove.” 

You make a quiet scoff of protest, not very convincing. Remus smiles. His hands stroke your sides. 

“So. We’re going to put my gifts under James and Lily’s tree without complaint, hm?” 

You feel your nose wrinkle. “Without any complaint? I feel like some damage control is necessary.” 

“Remember your tea.” 

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Right. No complaints here.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Sanji finds you crying and pretends to believe your excuses. Is anyone up for slow dancing in the rain?]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

When the time for supper came, Sanji knocked on your door to let you now. He was met with silence, so he naturally assumed you were sleeping. Not much of a problem - he'll set aside a portion for when you wake up hungry.

The problem is, that was around two hours ago.

Sanji knocked on your door again and when silence answered him this time also, he allowed himself to peek inside. Only to discover your bed is empty. He grew suspicious, if not worried, when no one could tell him where you went. It's the middle of the night and the rainstorm doesn't stop. Sanji also noticed how quiet and upset you've been most of the day, making him all the more tense that you are unaccounted for. The thought that you're obediently suffering in silence breaks him more each time he entertains it.

Sanji is scrubbing the cutting board with feverish vigour. The faster he finishes, the faster he can get to making sure you're fine. As though the fish scales knew his thoughts, they simply wouldn't get off the wooden surface.

The steel scrubber escapes his hands. It hits the sink with a quiet clank. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down and looks away from the pile of dishes. That's when he finally sees you through the smudged porthole. The rain outside obscures your silhouette. Nevertheless, Sanji is beyond convinced that it is, in fact, you. Despite the initial relief, he feels his chest tighten. You look like a marble statue, forever frozen still in grief.

Leaving the cutting board in the sink and grabbing his suit jacket, Sanji dashes out the door, making haste to you. What on Earth do you think you're doing out in this weather?

The cold rain hits him like a wall of ice. True, the cool water may feel refreshing after the hot and humid daytime hours but not at this rate of rainfall. Even if the nights in the open sea weren't so dark, it would still be impossible to see anything beyond the ship.

He has to come close to you to see the heartwrenching details of your silhouette. You're hunched over, staring at the turbulent waters below. The clothes you're wearing are absolutely drenched, no dry string in their material. Every now and then, your freezing body shivers violently.

"Love?" he calls out to you in an unsure voice.

But you don't react - at least not in the way he has been expecting you to. Instead of looking at him, you turn your face further away, quickly wiping it with your hands.

Sanji wastes no time. In long strides, he finds himself pressed up against your side and forcing his jacket around your shoulders. Considering the heavy rain it won't do much in the long run but maybe it can keep you warm until he convinces you to go back inside.

"Hey, look at me," he pleads in a soft voice.

Too tired and heartbroken, you let his warm fingers guide your face towards him. As if time suddenly slows down, you notice each wrinkle that appears and disappears when he studies your sorrowful expression. If he was a little less perceptive, Sanji would think your face is just wet from the heavy rainfall. The red veins of your bloodshot, puffy eyes are hardly visible in the darkness of the rainy night but not black enough to remain unseen by Sanji.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying? What happened?" he keeps asking. With each question, he feels the tension in his chest only rising.

"I'm not crying, I'm perfectly fine," you reassure him. Your forced scoff is followed by a pathetic sniffle. "It's just the rain. Saltwater irritated my eyes."

Of course, with your whole "I'm brave and strong and I can manage on my own" facade, you're not going to openly admit to weakness in front of anyone, even if it's painfully obvious. As much as Sanji considers your tough image charming, he wishes you would discard it once in a while - for your own sake.

"How can you be fine with saltwater in your eyes, princess?" Sanji goes along with your poorly constructed lie. His arms engulf you in a warm, albeit drenching wet, hug. "It must burn."

"Yeah, it does," you mumble against his soaking shirt. With a little more light, you would be able to see his bare skin from underneath the wet material. "But it's getting better."

One of Sanji's hands is keeping your head against his shoulder while the other drags up and down your back in a soothing gesture. The jacket he has put around your arms is already drenched, too. He feels your body shaking but can't be sure whether it's because of the "saltwater" or the cold weather. In any case, his heart breaks each time he feels those spasms. His mind panics in search of something that could possibly lift your mood.

The noise of the rainfall is disrupted by a soft, low hum. A melody you vaguely know rumbles inside Sanji's chest. Dean Martin...? Strong arms hold you tightly against his torso as he ever-so-gently sways you to the rhythm of the song.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips as you let yourself sink into the comfort of him. Up until this moment, the cosiness of a loved one's arms confronted with the coldness of a rainstorm, you've thought that scenes like these exist only in sappy novels written for naive young women.

"Slow dancing in the rain," you finally speak up. If it wasn't for the rather unpleasant rain drenching you to every last string of your clothing, yous wear you could fall asleep like this. "Aren't you a hopeless romantic, Sanji?"

"I'm just getting started, love," he murmurs against your hair, still slowly swaying your bodies despite having stopped the humming. You're inclined to believe that his chivalry ventures far beyond dancing in the rain.

"Oh, yes, please."

A low chuckle rumbles inside his chest. It merges into a symphony with the soft thrumming of his steady heartbeat.

"Feeling any better?" he asks in a serious tone.

To Sanji's dissatisfaction, you lean away from him to look at his face. Your eyes are still red but the curious glint he's learned to associate with you has found its way back into them. It seems like your grit, honesty or facade, has returned.

"What will you do if I say no?" you ask back.

As relief washes over him, Sanji smiles down at you. His hand slicks your drenched hair out of your puffy face.

"I should figure something out just for my baby," he answers without missing a beat. His fingers brush along your jaw and chin.

Before you have a chance to inquire, Sanji leans down and lifts you. A yelp of surprise is pulled out of your chest. Without much problem and clearly with a lot of enjoyment, he carries you back inside the lower deck of the ship.

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase five:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: angst.

➴ word count: 3.7k

💌 from me to you: i actually had the shittiest morning today (i got yelled by my 60yo teacher in front of the whole class for literally nothing 😭) but i remembered i had to give you guys this so here i am <3 hope you all still like me after this! love you! 🩶

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with Nico’s soft breathing on your neck.

It was a strange, comfortable feeling. You’re used to cuddling with your friends all the time, so the strangeness isn’t coming from that. It’s the fact that, somehow, during the night, you and Nico moved around and now his much larger body is engulfing yours, making you the little spoon.

His hand is directly touching your belly under your shirt, and it’s hot and firm. His nose is buried in your neck, and you can feel his chest going up and down like clockwork.

You look around his room, and you realize it’s the first time you’re inside it. You can’t see much, the room is only partially illuminated, and you realize, after looking at the clock Nico keeps on his bedside table, it’s because it’s only six in the morning. But you can see that the room is neat and organized— and even though you wouldn’t have expected this from a man in his mid-twenties, it doesn’t really surprise you.

Nico’s always been a jewel. He’s different from every man you have ever met and as corny as it sounds, it’s also entirely true. He’s kind, gentle, and polite.

Nora’s so lucky.

And she is, isn’t she? She’ll be the one waking up with Nico’s arms holding her close, she’ll be the one hearing his soft snores in the morning. What happened this night between you and Nico will never happen again.

Suddenly, your mouth fills up with a bitter taste. Your tongue burns inside your mouth and instead of pretending none of your thoughts are real and you do have chances with Nico Hischier, you start to move carefully, removing yourself from his grip.

Thankfully he seems to be a deep sleeper, since all he does when you leave the bed after five minutes of pulling yourself away is whine and grab the pillow you used to rest your head in and hug it close to his chest.

You leave his room, looking down at your wrinkled clothes. It’s the same outfit you were wearing yesterday, and you must’ve fallen asleep on the couch with Nico. you cringe, thinking about what his family must’ve thought.

They have all been so nice to you. They have always been nice to you but this time it's been different. They treated you like you were one of them, almost as if you were one of the Hischiers. Or soon to be one.

And you’re hurt because you know you’re not one. The realization that you’re hurt with a fact as insignificant as this makes you want to slap yourself.

You decide that the best thing for you to do is breakfast. You don’t have much time since you have to be at work in two hours but you want to do something for Nico. Before you found his kitchen you went to the bathroom, trying to make yourself look at least a little bit more presentable.

His kitchen is also extremely organized so you don’t have too much trouble finding the things you need to make crepes— eggs, flour, sugar, milk. You mindlessly mix everything inside a bowl, but still make sure everything is perfectly mixed.

You’re almost done when Nico shows up in the kitchen and you swear your heart stopped for a second. Unlike you, he did change into sleeping clothes, and now he’s just wearing gray sweatpants and an equally gray t-shirt. His bed hair is messy, his face is adorably swollen and his eyes are barely open.

He’s not much of a morning person, then, it’s what you decide.

You smile at him, pointing at the plate full of crepes beside his stove, where you were currently making your last one. “Good morning. I hope you don’t mind me going through your stuff, but I made you some crepes,” you flip the one inside the pan before continuing. “The chocolate syrup is in the fridge, but the honey is right here.” You point at the honeycomb shaped plastic bottle, halfway full still.

He stares at you for a few seconds before walking towards you. You try not to look too anxious, looking back at the crepe in front of you, but you freeze immediately when you feel his large hands on your back, the same hands that held you the entire night, and a light, brief kiss on your temple.

“Good morning, Em,” his accent is even more noticeable, his voice raspy and deep. You’re glad he pulls his hand away as fast as he puts it on your back because this way he isn’t able to feel the shiver that went through your entire body when he touched you. “Thank you. Will you eat with me?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” you pout, because you genuinely are. He looks unsatisfied with your answer as he sits on one of his stools, grabbing one of the crepes with his fork. “I have to go to work.”

“I thought you were on Holiday break until next year?” He raises one brow.

“Technically yes, but my boss needs me and I can’t really say no.” You shrug, wiping the counter and turning off the stove.

“Of course you can, you’re on break.” You chuckle, because he sounds upset and pouty.

Before you can reply, you hear your phone ring somewhere, your daily alarm going off. You excuse yourself and run to your phone, wanting to stop the annoying sound as fast as possible.

It’s only then that you check your infinite texts, five reels from Mia and—

“What?” you whisper to yourself, opening the text from the last person you’d expect to text you.

“Is everything okay?” Nico asks from the kitchen, and you walk towards him, reading the text on your phone over and over again.

“Well,” you cough, not sure of what to do. “Nora kind of texted me?”

Nico’s puffy eyes open slightly, and you can see he’s just as surprised as you.

“What did she say?”

“She invited us to her New Year’s eve party,” you explain, looking at him again. “She says she expects us, both of us, there at nine o’clock.”

If you’re being honest, you expected a bigger reaction coming from Nico. But all you get is a nod, as he continues to savor the crepes.

“Are we going?” He asks, all of a sudden.

“You’re asking me?” you scoff. “I mean, you’re the one who’s in love with her. Not me.”

“But do you think we should go?” He tries again, and you frown, confused. “I mean, the three months are almost up and all we got was some flirty texts and a follow on Instagram.”

You want to slap yourself, again. You forgot about the first rule, condition, whatever, you set up.

“But you have to promise me something.”

Nico nods. “Anything.”

“If this doesn’t work out, then you'll move on.”

“Emma—”

“It’s not healthy for you to be thristing over someone for this much time,” you sit on the couch next to him and place your hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “We will fight, and we will fight hard, but if there’s no results in three months, and I’m being generous, we’ll move on. Okay?”

Nico stared at his hands, biting his lips before looking at you again.

“Okay.”

“Well—”

“Be honest, please.” He pleads.

You sigh, running your hands over your face.

This is your chance.

Tell him the truth about Nora, and tell him the truth about your feelings.

Tell Nico the truth.

“I think that you both didn’t have many opportunities to be together, right?” you say instead. “I mean, the only time we saw her in person was at your game, a long time ago. So maybe this party is the perfect opportunity for you?”

“I guess you’re right,” Nico says after a while. “Then we’re going. Are you sure it’s okay with you?”

“Yeah,” you say, grabbing your boots and putting them on again. “I didn’t have anything planned anyway.”

“Okay,” he nods, looking at you again. You gulp. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s fine. See you on the 31st.”

𖧷

“YOU LOOK beautiful.” Is the first thing Nico says when he looks at you.

You smile, red spreading all over your face while you play with your fingers. You’re wearing a long, backless, white dress with pearl earrings and heels. You always choose to wear this particular color on New Years since in some cultures it is known that it brings peace.

Nico also looks amazing, but he always does. He’s wearing a tailored, dark-colored three-piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt, a black bow tie, and patent leather shoes. He shaved, and his hair is a little bit longer than usual; you’ve noticed he’s been letting it grow over the past few weeks and you don’t even try to hide the fact that you’re a fan.

“Thanks,” you answer softly, getting inside his car and putting your seatbelt on. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Nina helped me with the outfit,” he chuckles, starting the car. “She called me to complain about the fact that I wasn’t going to spend the New Year's eve with them and ended up dressing me up.”

You hum, too nervous to keep the conversation going. You’d both have to spend the entire evening pretending to be together, pretending to love each other, and this time, you weren’t so sure that you’d be able to do it.

And you’re all on your own too, because neither Mia nor Ella were going to the party. “If I wanted to go to a party of a fake ass bitch I’d go to Jack’s.” Is what Mia says when you ask her to come with you.

So, you’re going to be alone, all night, with a bunch of rich, somewhat famous people, while pretending to be in a relationship with your friend.

What a great way to start the new year.

The party had already started when you and Nico arrived, and despite being too anxious to even think properly, you cannot ignore the fact that Nora quite literally lives in a palace. Her house, or her family’s for that matter, is the biggest you’ve ever seen and you’ve been to a lot of places. It probably has more than fifteen rooms and not to mention the limestone with onsite parking for 80-100 cars.

“Jesus,” you let out, looking at the sight in front of you. “How much does her dad make?”

Nico laughs as he parks the car. “I have no idea but now I’m thinking of retiring from my NHL career and working for him.”

You roll your eyes at him, still amused with the house— mansion? Palace?

“Does a family of three even need a house this big?” you snort. “This is insane.”

Usually, you wouldn’t care about the size of her house, because it’s none of your business if her family is wealthy or not. But you’re already so fed up with Nora’s bullshit that every tiny detail related to her is enough to set you off.

Which is an awful thing.

“Well, let’s go then,” Nico says, turning the car off. “It’s already ten p.m.”

When you enter the house, you’re even more upset. The interior is richly decorated with high brand furniture, at least five fireplaces— in the living room only, because that’s how big her house is—, painting that you’re sure cost more than what you make in a year, and not to mention the beautiful, probably handmade rugs on the floor, so delicate you’re scared to step on them.

Nico holds your hand while he walks beside you, greeting so many people you lost count after the fifteenth. They all look delighted to see him, and you get them, because seeing Nico is like finding gold at the end of a rainbow.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, leaning down so his lips are close to your ear, his left hand holding your waist in place.

You weigh your choices. Spending this night miserably sober and pouty or drunk and happy?

The answer’s obvious.

“I’ll get a martini, please.” You ask, grinning at him, already feeling the taste of the alcohol in your tongue.

“Coming right away, baby.” He jokes, kissing you on the cheek and making his way to the stupid built-in bar Nora probably asked someone to build in the middle of her stupid living room.

Stupid Nora, stupid rich people, stupid Nico and stupid, beautiful, gorgeous dimples.

Nico’s back after a few minutes and he hands you your drink, and its smell makes you raise your eyebrow, giving him a curious look.

“I asked him to make it a little bit stronger. You look like you need it.” He smiles, and you don’t think before kissing his cheek, exactly where his dimple sits.

“Thanks.” You shyly say, sipping on your drink afterwards. You feel your throat burn immediately. “Woah.”

“Is it good?” Nico asks, before sipping on his own drink.

“It’s definitely a drink.” Is what you say.

“Oh my God!” Nora approaches both of you and you have to ask God to give you the strength not to roll your eyes at her. “You guys are here.”

She hugs Nico like you’re not even there, holding his neck and kissing him on the cheek, a content smile on her face. You can’t see Nico’s face but just by the way he politely puts his hands on her arms, you can tell he’s not comfortable, at all.

“Hello,” is what he says, smiling at her. The sight makes you drink almost half of your drink at once. “Thanks for the invite.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” she grins, stepping away to look at you. “You look adorable, Emma.”

Go fuck yourself.

“Thank you. You look amazing too.” You reply, hoping she doesn’t pick up on your fake smile.

“Are you enjoying the night?” She asks, but it’s so clear she only wants Nico to answer that you don’t even bother speaking.

“Yeah. Your house is great.”

“I can show you around,” she winks. And you want to punch her in the face. Again and again. “Both of you, of course.”

“Uh—”

“I think I’m fine here,” you say, making a tired face. “These heels are killing me so I’ll just find somewhere to sit. You can go, though, baby.”

Nico looks at you with an indecipherable expression, and you nod your head, encouraging him.

“Great!” Nora says, not even hiding her excitement. “Let’s go, then.”

Nico doesn’t even have the time to answer before Nora grabs his arm and pulls his body towards hers, walking and waking until they are out of your eyesight.

You finish your drink in seconds. But thankfully, you were right: even though you’re not drunk, just remotely tipsy, the night flies by in a second.

You end up finding an old man to chat about the current challenges in the world of journalism, and you entertain yourself with his opinions on the topic.

Even though your brain can’t stop going back to the fact that Nora and Nico have been away for more than fifteen minutes now.

It’s easy to pretend you’re not bothered by it when Nico is back, seconds before midnight. He doesn’t let you say goodbye to Mr. Kyle before he grabs your hand and walks you out of the house.

“Five!”

“Nico?” you ask, confused, barely able to catch up with his fast pace. “Nico, what— what happened?”

“Four!”

He stops and turns around, standing in front of you. His eyes hold a storm in them yet you can’t tell what’s wrong.

“Nico—”

“Three!”

“Em,” he starts, his voice cracking slightly. “I need to tell you something.”

“Two!”

“Okay,” you breathe, still not quite sure of what’s gotten him so nervous. “Does it really have to be now, because,” you laugh, humorouslessly. “We’re kind of in the middle of—”

“One!”

“Nora kissed me.”

“Happy New Year!”

There are fireworks exploding, people shouting and singing. People are happy, welcoming the new year.

And you…

You’re standing in front of Nico, taking in his words.

Nora kissed me.

“Emma.”

“T-that’s great!” you put on your best fake smile, hoping that he wouldn’t notice it. “I’m so happy for you, Ni—”

“Then why are you crying, Em?”

His words surprise you. You didn’t realize you were crying. Touching your face, you feel the warm tears running down your cheeks.

He was right. You were crying.

Wiping your tears, you make a pfft sound with your mouth. “These are happy tears, I promise you.” You lie.

That’s all you seem to do anyway.

“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” he says, moving his body towards yours. “Emma…”

“I’m happy for you, I really am,” you say, trying to convince him. Or yourself. “You got what you wanted, right? Our plan worked.”

“Emma—” he tries to speak again and you take a step back, shaking your head.

“My work here is done.”

He frowns. “What do you mean? Now you’ll stay away from me?”

“Not entirely, no. I’m going to hang around for a bit and start telling people we had a friendly breakup. We still love each other but we realized that it was a mistake and—”

“Emma—”

“—and no one gets h-hurt,” your voice cracks, and you’re crying even more now. It’s hard to hide your tears, so you just hope for some kind of miracle. “No one gets hurt.”

Except for me.

“I think we should talk.”

“I don’t think we should. There’s nothing to say,” you try to smile, but it doesn’t go well. “You got what you wanted, Nico.”

You don’t let him answer, you just leave the garden with your phone in hand, wiping the stubborn tears that want to have their moment so badly.

You don’t look back when he calls your name, and you don’t look back when, twenty minutes later, the Uber driver finally shows up and picks you up.

𖧷

MIA OPENS the door for you after the second knock.

“Baby, what happened?” Her worried voice reaches your ear and you can’t help but start sobbing loudly.

She doesn’t ask any more questions, and just wraps her arms around you, taking you inside her home. She sits you on her couch and gently rocks your body, back and forth, whispering sweet words in your ear.

You can’t stop crying, even though you feel shitty for ruining her New Year’s eve. Her arms comfort you and you keep replying Nico’s words in your head.

Nora kissed me. Nora kissed me.

“It was flawless, Mia,” you sob. “The p-plan was flawless yet I had to mess everything up.”

“Em, what are you talking about?”

“I fell in love with him, and I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Oh my God,” Mia whispers. “Are you in love with someone else? Is that why you’re crying—”

“No, I— She kissed him.” You whisper back, your voice so soft you’re sure Mia wouldn’t have heard you if she wasn’t so close.

“I’m sorry, what?” She asked, confused. “Who kissed who?”

“Nora kissed Nico tonight. At her party.”

“What a fucking bitch!” she says, loudly, sounding genuinely mad. “And what the hell is wrong with Nico, too? Does he have a death wish or something?”

“No, it’s—” you choke on your sob, hiccuping a few times. “It wasn’t real.”

Mia’s confused voice makes you want to smile, even if you don’t have the strength to. “Baby, I am so freaking confused. What do you mean? What wasn’t real?”

“Nico and I. We were pretending to be in love.”

Mia’s silent for a while, but she’s still holding you close. You keep crying, despite knowing that you have no right to. You put yourself in this situation. It was your idea.

When Mia speaks again, there’s a hint of humor in her voice.

“Happy New Years to us.”

“So, let me see if I got this straight,” Mia sighs. “You told Nico that if you both faked a relationship, Nora would finally fall in love with him, but you ended up falling in love with him instead and now that your plan worked, you’re miserable?”

“Pretty much that, yeah,” you mumble, a little bit calmer now. “I just wanted him to be happy.”

You rest your head on her thighs as she looks down at you. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not supposed to be sorry, Mia,” you chuckle. “You’re supposed to be telling me that it was a crazy idea right from the start.”

“I don’t need to tell you that, baby, you already know it,” she smiles. “Besides, I know you had the best of all intentions. And that’s what I’m sorry for. Because I know you’re always putting other people’s needs in front of your own and it hurts me.”

“Mia…”

“You know I’m right,” she blinks. “I love you. So much. But… that’s not healthy. You’re your own person and the priority in your life. You didn’t even think about how you were going to feel with all this mess. You only thought about Nico being happy with that fucking cunt.”

“You should’ve seen it,” you say. “The way she looks at him. Like… like… I don’t even know. Like he was a prize for her and it’s all a competition.”

“We already know how she is,” Mia rolls her eyes. “I think her life goal is to destroy every relationship in Newark.”

“Mhm.”

“But what’s really weird is the fact that Nico was okay with all of this,” she pouts. “I saw how he looks at you. And how you look at him. And when you were both together it was like you’re meant for each other. Even Natalie said this and she’s not even around as much as me and Ella are.”

“We are great actors,” You explain, and even though you can tell she wants to contradict you, you get up. “Can I spend the night?”

She nods, smiling. “You know you can. I was really looking forward to cuddling with someone tonight.”

“Right, because it’s so hard for Mia Turner to find someone to cuddle with.” You playfully roll your puffy eyes, and she slaps your arm.

“You’re so annoying, Emma Roberts!”

<next chapter>

[mmogurl]

In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 3: Rude Awakening

18+ | 4.5k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Smut, Dragons, Political Intrigue, Plotting, Murder, lots of old timey concepts that don't make a lot of sense today, but are still kind of hot/fun.

Now just how is Daemon going to pull this one off? Continuing the story from Daemon's POV.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 Also on AO3

The guards outside the King’s chamber regarded him with a suspicious glare, but Daemon just gave a smile and pushed his way inside despite their presence.

“Good morrow, Your Grace!” Daemon shouted loudly as he walked into the room, already fully dressed for the day and as chipper as any man could be so early in the morning.

Viserys startled awake and just as Daemon expected, he looked like he had been dragged through some maester’s leech pit. His face was pale with red-rimmed eyes, tired and blood-shot.

“What is the meaning of this, Brother!? Has someone perished?” Viserys sat up, pulling the sheets around his waist as he looked at his brother with disoriented concern.

“No, no. No one has died, Brother. There’s no need to worry,” Daemon was already opening the curtains to let streams of bright morning light into the room, knowing it would add to the king’s discomfort. “Quite the opposite in fact.”

He turned back to Viserys with a smirk plastered deviously across his face, looking like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “I do have a solution to all of your troubles, dear brother! Where our precious little Ryna is concerned.”

The king rubbed his head gingerly, letting out a low groan as he turned away from the sudden brightness. “By the Mother’s mercy! I hope whatever you have to say is quick. My head feels like it’s about to split in two.”

Ah yes, exactly as I had hoped.

“Oh, it most assuredly will be brief,” Daemon chuckled, but not without a small pang of sympathy. He’d been in Viserys’ shoes quite a few times, so he knew the feeling all too well.

He stood at the edge of his brother’s bed, resting his hand against the corner post as he continued, “But, first, I want to make sure we are on the same page. I know you wish to see Princess Ryna married, but to a suitable match, yes?”

“Yes, of course!” Viserys shouted clearly irritated by Daemon’s stating of the obvious. “But the girl will not give a man a second glance, let alone a chance to court her!”

Daemon tried to temper the smirk that pulled at his lips as he answered. “Quite simply, Brother… I’ve found a match for our darling girl that she will agree to. No, better than that, a match she will desire.”

The king looked up at Daemon, confusion wrinkling his brow. “And just who in the Seven Hells is the fellow then!?” he grumbled, cogs slowly turning in his groggy head as he tried to figure it out.

The look of bewilderment on his brother’s face was priceless. Oh, this is just too good. He let the anticipation build a little longer before giving the answer he had longed to say.

“Myself, of course,” Daemon finally replied with smug nonchalance.

“You and Ryna!?” Viserys was instantly wide awake and alert, the shock of his words jerking him to the edge of the bed as though he meant to stand. His eyes grew wide as saucers and his mouth fell open slackly. “You want to wed my girl?”

Oh, this is even better than I imagined.

“Yes, Ryna and I, but there is no need to look so startled, Brother,” he retorted, making an effort to keep his voice level so as not to give away his true amusement. “I’m sure once she hears of my proposal, she will gladly accept. Why, it was practically her idea.”

“And what makes you so sure she’ll agree? Have you been conspiring behind my back to ruin another of my daughters?” his voice was growing angry, making his distrust of Daemon’s ‘plan’ known.

Daemon rolled his eyes at Viserys’ question. He knew his brother had a tendency to always think the worse of him, but the accusation still stung.

“Conspiring behind your back? Hardly. I prefer to think of it as finding an effective solution to a problem we both agree needs to be addressed,” he said allowing a touch of frustration to color his words.

“And for your information, it was your lovely daughter who approached me at the banquet last night laden with worries,” he continued, keen to cement his intentions before the king. “She feared you might force her into a marriage that she does not wish.”

Daemon smiled again at the thought of his conversation with Ryna, feeling a surge of excitement at the memory of her in the dark. “I inquired why she’d had such difficulty in choosing a suitor and she admitted that she prizes her Valyrian heritage above all, but does not care for her brothers. And then after speaking to you, it seemed the answer just fell into place.”

Viserys stared at him for a long moment before letting out a groan, rubbing his temples again.

Come on, Brother, you ’re so close. You know it’s the only way.

Finally, the king spoke with a thoughtful, yet slightly melancholy tone. “My lady-wife held onto the hope that Ryna might embrace Aegon as a husband, either by choice or compulsion. The match was a strong one to preserve our bloodline, so I had no objection to it. Yet, I desired for my daughter to have agency in her own contentedness, for we both know that my first born son…. Well, he is not particularly suited for the role of husband to a gentle and spirited young maiden such as my second daughter.”

“That boy is an utter twat! He is even more scandalous than I,” Daemon hissed back with incredulity at the Hightower cunt’s aspirations. How dare she even plant the seed of marrying that rapacious little shit to his darling niece.

The king gave a small resigned sigh, accompanied by a defeated nod. “So, it would seem,” his brother replied, sounding less than happy that his solution would be coming from Daemon. “I should have you sent to the Wall for even suggesting such a thing, Brother. I must say I am not entirely fond of the situation, but I cannot argue with its potential merits. If Ryna consents to this union, then I will permit it.” Viserys paused for a moment and then his eyes sprung open as he added, “With condition.”

Inwardly, Daemon felt his heart leap wildly, but he did his best to remain composed and kept an expression of mild disinterest on his face.

Ah! I ’ve won. Victory is mine!

Daemon raised an eyebrow and held up his hands in a gesture of mock submission. “Name your terms, dear brother,” he urged, remaining mostly stoic. He didn’t want to appear nervous or overeager, in fear it would drive the king’s price higher. But the truth was, he would do anything, sacrifice anything, to possess that beautiful nymph that was his niece. It was a burning need that he must quench.

“The first condition is that you will not lay with her until the wedding night,” Viserys declared, his demeanor stern and unwavering. “There has already been enough talk of Rhaenyra’s exploits and I won’t have Ryna’s reputation tarnished as well. I assure you, should a single whisper from a servant reach my ears, I shall swiftly send you to the Wall to take your vows as a brother of the Night’s Watch.”

The King knows me all too well! Daemon thought to himself, feeling his enthusiasm ebbing slightly at the thought of not having his sweetling before the wedding. Then again, he liked the idea of using creativity to circumvent the rule.

“Agreed,” Daemon conceded with a nod. “What else?” he inquired, silently hoping the next demand wouldn’t as torturous.

“Secondly, you will court her in a proper and honorable manner. You will perform all the duties expected of a suitor. You will spend time with her, in appropriate settings. You will stroll with her in the garden, dance with her at gatherings, and present her with gifts. You will demonstrate to me that you are truly serious about her, that she is not merely a temporary amusement or a means to further your own ambitions.”

Viserys spoke slowly and deliberately, each word imbued with a sense of authority, his directives explicit and firm.

Daemon had to suppress a scoff. I don’t need some courtship game to make her fall for me. She’s all but ripe for the taking…

He kept his expression neutral, determined not to betray any hint of irritation while simultaneously appeasing his brother, and nodded in affirmation once more. “Very well, Your Grace. I shall be the epitome of courtly refinement, a suitor unlike any that King’s Landing has ever witnessed,” he promised as convincingly as possible.

Viserys laughed boisterously, his expression gladdening substantially. “I should like to see that, Brother.”

Don ’t sound so unconvinced, you prick!

Daemon fought hard to repress his grin, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth nonetheless. “Be careful, Brother,” he cautioned. “I just might surprise you in this.”

He paused a moment and then tried to conclude the conversation. “I suppose I should begin my courtship then, barring any further objections or stipulations from you, Your Grace,” he said, stepping back from the bed, unable to keep a hint of eagerness from his voice.

“Do not look so pleased, Brother. I am not finished yet,” Viserys said with a glaring smirk. It was clear he was beginning to enjoy holding this over Daemon’s head. “Should I be satisfied and give you my daughter’s hand, I expect you to behave as a proper husband would.” The king was sitting up at the edge of the bed now, arms crossed and sheets still covering the lower half of his body.

His next words made Daemon’s heart beat faster. “You will not see other women, you will comport yourself with decency, and I will expect to hear news of a child on the way within a year of the wedding.”

By the Gods …

Everything the king was demanding was to be expected, but the thought of having to be a proper husband with all the obligations that came along with it was a struggle to bear. Surely his brother’s strong hand would grow lax after the wedding, for there was only so much a man like him could endure.

However, the final condition of Viserys’ terms made him stiffen with arousal. He could already imagine his beautiful girl full and round with his babe… Gods give me strength. The mere idea made him dizzy, but he knew he had to focus on the task at hand, so he pushed all thoughts of that glorious image as far back into his mind as possible.

Daemon finally spoke again with a hint of hesitation in his voice, knowing he needed to be on his best behavior so he wouldn’t lose this opportunity. “Of course, I will behave as an upstanding husband should. I have no heirs, save my twin daughters, and have wont of a male to carry on our name.”

“That pleases me to hear, Brother.” He gave Daemon a thin lipped smile, before letting out a conclusive sigh. “I have my doubts that you will be able to uphold your end of this bargain, but if you make good on your word… If the courtship goes well and it is what Ryna truly wishes, than I shall give my blessing and my second daughter’s hand in marriage.” The king took a moment to collect himself, and a more relaxed expression settled over his face, a hint of satisfaction in his features. “Perhaps it shall go a long way towards mending old wounds, Brother.”

Viserys opened his arms, welcoming his brother into an embrace. With a slight hesitation, Daemon accepted his brother’s gesture of goodwill and leaned in to encircle his arms around his back. It wasn’t often that the two shared such a moment of peace, and he found it refreshing that such a potentially hostile topic might end well. He clapped Viserys on the back before standing upright again, given neither man was taken to such displays of affection.

Daemon looked down at his brother with as much honesty as he could convey. “Old wounds and old grudges, Brother. Let us hope that I shall do us both proud.”

“Join the family for the morning meal and I will announce the courtship,” Viserys said with surprising fondness. “I do not look forward to the irate glances my lady-wife will surely give me from across the table, but The King has cause to make his own choices once in awhile.” He chuckled and laid back in bed, likely ready to slumber for another hour before rousing.

He chuckled, imagining the look on Alicent’s face when she found out. No doubt she will do her best to sabotage this courtship.

“I am quite eager to witness her reaction. I am almost certain steam will shoot from her nostrils.” Daemon replied with a hint of amusement in his tone, barely suppressing a grin. “But I will see you at breakfast, dear brother. Now, I must take leave. I have a princess to court.”

Viserys waved his hand in the air to shoo his brother away, his head already nestling into the plush pillows. With a satisfied nod, Daemon turned and left his brother’s chamber with a grin, already planning his next move.

He could feel the blood coursing through his veins, a burning passion igniting his every step as he moved closer to his prize. The thought of his sweet niece, soon to be his bride, fueled his desire and set him ablaze with a fierce intensity.

His hands curled into tight fights at his sides as visions of Ryna danced through his mind. Soon he would have her all to himself, and he would make her squirm and whine, begging and pleading for him. She many never fully grasp the extent of what he had endured, just to earn the chance to call her his own.

Daemon found himself walking down the hall towards his niece’s chamber, the desire to tell her of his victory, to hear her response and see her smile with delight, now almost irresistible. He knew that such thoughts were driven by his own impulsive nature, and that he must remain rational and patient for the time being, but he could not help himself.

He stood quietly at her door and listened, wondering if she was even awake yet. He heard the sound of shuffling inside the room and then the soft padding of bare feet across the floor.

He could only imagine what she would be wearing. A nightgown, so thin and flimsy it might as well be see-through, and her skin glowing in the morning light. He tried his best to push those lurid thoughts aside, but the mental picture of her was too enticing and it lingered persistently as he finally knocked on the door.

There was an abrupt silence from within the room, followed by hushed whispers as footsteps approached the door. A crack of light shined through and the outline of a young handmaid filled the doorway.

She spoke nervously with her head hung low, avoiding eye contact, “Greetings, My Prince. How may I serve you?”

He was annoyed for a moment that it wasn’t Ryna who had opened the door, but he kept his composure and nodded his head to the girl.

“I’ve come to speak with your mistress,” he replied in a tone of authority. “It’s a matter of great importance.”

“Pardon me. M’lady is not yet ready to receive you,” she said apologetically. “Would you be kind enough to wait a moment while I make her presentable?”

Daemon suppressed the growl that threatened to rise up, knowing he had little choice but to wait, especially if he was going to play by Viserys’ ‘proper’ game.

“Very well, but be quick about it,” he grumbled. “I haven’t got all day.” The last thing he wanted was to sit there while the maid brushed Ryna’s hair and tidied her gown. He wanted her now.

The handmaid nodded adamantly and replied with urgency, “I will make haste, My Prince.”

“See that you do,” he answered with finality as the maid disappeared behind the closed door.

He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms restlessly. The wait was a slow and excruciating one. He found himself tapping his foot impatiently as the sound of whispers drifted from within the room. The young women no doubt discussing the impropriety of receiving a male in her chambers at such an early hour.

His thoughts began to run wild as time passed, envisioning the scene inside the princess’ chamber. Ryna half dressed with ivory skin spilling out in all the right places, standing before her maid, looking beautiful and sweet. She was likely surprised and a bit flustered to have him at her door, and he could almost envision the rosy blush on her cheeks. The urge to open the door and push his way past the servant became so strong it was practically unbearable.

How will I ever survive this courtship?

The door suddenly opened, causing Daemon to look over with anticipation, only to be greeted by the sight of the same maid that had come to the door moments ago. He tried not to let his displeasure show at not seeing Ryna herself standing there in wait, but it only served to make his irritation grow.

“Well?” he inquired. “Is the Princess ready to receive me?”

“She is, My Prince,” the young woman said shyly and backed up, opening the door and standing behind it to let him enter the room unobstructed.

He strode into her chambers with measured steps, his gaze fixed intently on her petite frame. She was so deliciously small, hardly reaching his chin in height, and he savoured the thought of how soft and supple she would feel against his own body. His eyes devoured her from head to toe as a sly smirk crossed his face.

She wore a simple dress of crimson, the bodice lined in yellow gold with a black insignia of the three-headed dragon embroidered in the center of the bust. Her hair hung loosely against her shoulders, golden silver curls brushed out, but not yet braided. She was a sight for sore eyes, his in particular.

“You look lovely this morning, sweetling,” he said with a low rumble as he closed the distance between them. He reached out for her hand and brushed a light kiss against her knuckle.

His delightful, little niece blushed just as he thought she would, a charming look of innocent embarrassment upon her face. Daemon held onto her hand as she began to speak.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she replied nervously. “What brings you here? I was not expecting you.”

My sweet girl.

She was truly adorable with her shy demeanor and her struggle to look him in the eye. He was surprised how easily he had been able to cast aside years of torment with just the simple notion of her returning his affections. The very purity that had once kept him at bay now only served to heighten his desire to corrupt her further, to make her whimper and plead for more of his touch.

“A matter of great importance, my dear girl,” he continued, keeping the caress of his fingers light as he stroked the back of her hand. “I’m here with a proposition, and I should very much like to have your answer. Now.” He winked at her, keeping up the pretense for the handmaid that was still present.

“Oh?” she asked with a curious gleam in her eyes. “What could be so urgent that it could not wait for the morning meal?”

Daemon tried his utmost to resist the urge to seize her and draw her into his arms. The way she looked at him was almost more than he could stand. If only that blasted handmaid were not lingering, watching them like a hawk, he would have her bent over the bed in less than a second.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on his words, rather than his cock. His voice was softer now when he spoke, but just as insistent, “I spoke to your father this morning… He has given me permission to court you, Niece. I would hear your decision immediately, for he wishes to announce it at breakfast.”

“What?” she looked remarkably surprised. “How!?”

He had to admit, her shock was a refreshing sight to behold. Daemon half expected the girl to throw herself into his arms at the news.

“I have my ways, sweetling,” he answered cryptically with a smirk. “But, first I need your answer. Will you allow me to court you?” There was a soft gasp from the maid and Daemon realized her presence wasn’t quite as aggravating as he’d originally thought. Who better to spread rumors like wildfire than the servant caste. Soon, everyone in the Red Keep would know that he was courting the princess.

And they will all know that she is mine. Just as it should be.

“I cannot believe you managed to convince him. Even for your velvet tongue, that is quite a feat, Uncle,” she looked thoughtful for a moment, as though considering everything that might have been said or promised to make it so. “And it was Father’s wish that we court? A test of devotion, I take it?”

“A test of devotion, indeed,” he said, nodding as he continued to hold and dote on the soft skin of her hand. “Though, I’m sure your father is still not entirely convinced of my sincerity.”

Suddenly, his free hand snaked around her slender waist, drawing her closer until their bodies were nearly touching. A startled gasp escaped the maid at the sight, and Daemon relished the knowledge that their little performance was received so well. He allowed his face to shift closer to her ear, so he could whisper.

“But I have every intention of winning your favor, my sweet, little princess. What say you, hmm?”

Ryna placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back to a comfortable distance once more. Her eyes brimming with eagerness, “Yes, positively yes!” She took both of his hands in hers with a beaming smile that made his chest ache.

She said yes. He had expected the answer, of course, but to actually hear it confirmed was a feeling he could have never truly anticipated. Years of pent up desire and frustration were starting to release and it took all of his restraint to not just kiss her there in front of the damned handmaid.

Daemon pulled her hands up to his lips so he could place a kiss on her skin once more.

“Very good, my sweet girl,” he said with a smug look of satisfaction. “Very good indeed.” Daemon allowed his voice to drop once more so only she could hear. “And I promise to court you properly, so long as you do your part and be a good girl for me. I will not abide any misconduct from my wife to be.”

His voice was practically dripping with mockery for he knew how to play this game. This was all a part of the dance, to lure his niece into giving herself up entirely to him. To make her his, once and for all.

“You know I will not go easy on you just because you are my favorite niece?” His gaze darkened and he allowed a small smirk to play about his lips.

“I w-would never!” she stuttered out anxiously as though he were actually serious. The poor girl was so flustered by what he’d said in front of her maid, that she didn’t even realize he’d been jesting.

He chuckled, amused by the uncertainty in her flickering gaze, and he couldn’t help but smile. He knew he would thoroughly enjoy himself during the coming moon, playing with her and indulging in his desires. However, it was also becoming obvious that the challenge of their courtship would test him like no other had before, as his lustful temptations gew harder and harder to resist.

Daemon smiled wolfishly. “Your decision pleases me greatly, sweetling,” he said in a low voice as he continued to place kisses against her knuckles. “Now we must get you ready. Quickly. We wouldn’t want to keep the king waiting, hmm?”

He let go of her hands regretfully and stepped back to allow the maid to take over. Daemon watched as the handmaid scurried back to the foreground and immediately began busying herself with finishing up Ryna’s morning routine.

With her touch gone, he longed to reach out and grab her once more. His hands burned with the irresistible urge to feel her body beneath his touch. It would be exquisite torture, having her close at hand and yet unable to take her in the way that he wished.

He could feel something primal and possessive stirring inside him at the thought. She was his and she always had been. Since she first came into this world, he had treasured her more than any other. And, once she came of age, he had fought against his desires, finding them wrong and ruinous, yet all of these years later she had chosen him of her own accord. Now, nothing would keep him from her again.

“Uncle,” she interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up in a daze. “I shall need some privacy. I’ll look forward to seeing you at the morning meal shortly.” She smiled, a hint of knowing in her eyes.

“Of course, sweetling,” he managed to get out.

His mind and body were suddenly at odds with each other. One part of him wanting to linger in the room just a moment longer, to catch another glimpse of her sweet smile, while the other part was more than eager to be out of there so that he could have a quiet moment to himself and gather his fraying control.

“I’ll be waiting…” It came out as more a growl than words and he mentally berated himself. You sound like an impatient little boy, you fool.

“Until we meet again, Uncle,” she spoke softly, before turning her head so that the maid could continue working on braiding her hair.

Daemon nodded to her with a grin, his eyes fastened on her for just a moment longer than appropriate, before turning on his heel and exiting the chamber. The door closed behind him and he leaned back against the cold stone wall. His eyes closed as he lout out a long, shaky breath.

Gods give me strength… Read Chapter 4

[bigskydreaming]

The Vampire Daniel Molloy, when Louis asks what he's looking forward to most about the next stage of his newly immortal life:

Hmm. With how much my maker already complains about me ruining his life and how every day I give him a new reason to regret ever siring me, if I had to pick just one thing, I'd say the thing I'm most looking forward to is when I hit vampire puberty.

Louis: ....

Daniel: Vampire puberty's when the really wild superpowers kick in, right?

Louis: I suppose technically that's not....inaccurate.

Daniel: Hey, what are the chances of me getting the 'set shit on fire with my brain' thing you've got? Can you even imagine how much that would piss him off? His disappointment of a fledgling having the same gifts as the ex who dumped his ass....oh, man. C'mon now. I bet I could do some real damage with that.

Louis: Actually, while we're near the subject: would you please stop introducing yourself as 'the reason your vampire parents got divorced?'

Daniel: No, Louis, Louis! You're not getting it, see....the thing that makes it funny is its true.

Louis: You've really decided to lean into the whole 'second childhood' angle, huh.

Daniel: Mmmm. And just think. If you'd turned me fifty years ago when I first asked, I'd be well past this stage by now. And also still twenty. And hot.

Louis: Ahh. Its like that, then, is it.

Daniel: Oh, only a little bit. Really though, its like, every day I discover a new way to make Armand rue my very existence all over again, and maybe I'm just a simple man with simple needs, because that's just....very fun for me. I mean, there's just something extra validating in knowing the guy you're all "fuck that guy, I hate him, he sucks" about hates you waaaay more than you can be bothered to hate him. Because then its like you win the feud, right? You still get to hate that guy, which is great, because fuck that guy, he sucks, but you also get to know your very existence drives him way crazier than his ever makes you, and I mean, let's be real. Who doesn't like winning things?

Louis: Well I'm so glad you've found something that gives you a sense of purpose at least. Its very -

Daniel: Yeah, yeah, immortal blood drinkers need hobbies other than mass murder, it keeps the body count low and is good for the environment. Relax. I know. I literally wrote the book on it. You were there.

Louis: That's what you got out of it?

Daniel: Why, did you want me to fixate on your sex scenes instead? That seems weird. A little narcissistic even. And at the risk of self-awareness, when I'm the one -

Louis: Right. Well. I just wanted to make sure you had something to focus your energies on. It can all be a bit overwhelming at first and with your level of public attention at the moment, its very crit -

Daniel: Nope, all good here. Got myself a steady supply of Deadbeat Dad jokes that make my maker's eye twitch - apparently base word play is "gauche" or some shit - ugh, my god, its like nothing I do is ever good enough for him, and I only ate one of the editors on my shitlist to test drive my shiny new murder skills. He had this thing about Oxford commas, used to bug the crap out of me. Its like we get it, you hate them. They're literally dots on a page, they can't hurt you, can we please move on....

Louis: ....

Daniel: Louis, I'm kidding. Look, you don't have to worry about me. I already decided I find emotional evisceration way more satisfying than the physical version. Less clean up and it lasts longer anyway. I'm not going to get myself into trouble by cosplaying as Jack the Ripper where paparazzi can catch me red-fanged, and even if I do, I hereby absolve you of all responsibility. You can stop mother-henning me, you didn't turn me, you literally said no when I begged you to, its the whole reason I have eternal wrinkles instead of youthful tautness.

Louis: Not gonna let that one go, are you.

Daniel: Gimme a few centuries and ask me again. I'll let you know then.

Louis: Mmhmm. So this was....memorable and we definitely won't be doing it again. But you do seem to have things figured out so I'll leave you to it, then.

Daniel: Wait, Louis, don't go! Don't you want to hear my five-century life plan for annoying Armand into an early retirement mausoleum? I made visual aids!

Louis: Goodbye, Daniel.

Daniel: Fine, leave then! I don't care! You're not my real dad anyway! Et cetera, et cetera!

[writingjourney]

Imagine⭐

You've known Papa Primo for a thousand years. You have lived together for many-many years. Although you are not much younger than him, but your husband is worried, that he is old for you, that you will stop loving him. But on the other hand, he sees, how you look at him. Just like before. Like he's the only man in this world. Both of you are not getting any younger, and the feelings between you are no longer as hot and unbridled as before, but they have become stronger, warmer. Let it be a little difficult for you to give each other physical love, but you can talk for a long time.

The Devil's Ivy | Primo x gn!reader

I love you anon and I love this headcanon. Primo deserves all the love and affection. Also, I wrote this while sick so pls bear with me.

content: 900 words, older gn!reader, just some wholesome fluff :)

Masterlist – Ao3 link

Epipremnum aureum, the devil’s ivy, almost a decade old but still alive and thriving.

Primo has been propagating this plant for an hour now, carefully cutting the stems with his sterilized pruning shears, removing leaves, placing the cuttings in fresh water. His patience astounds you, just like his growing expertise ever since he started to properly hone in on this former niche interest of his after retiring. Watching him so focused on his hobby is beautiful; it would be much more beautiful if you weren’t seeing that big line of worry on his forehead.

You leave your reading spot on the sofa to walk over to his sunny working station by the window. If he notices you, he doesn’t let on, only setting down his latest cutting and the shears when you mold yourself into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Hello, handsome,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his soft cheek.

Your husband has changed a lot over the past two decades, just like you have. The years are much more visible on him, though, a man who had to shoulder all the heavy burdens that life as a high-ranking clergy member inevitably bestowed him with. They are etched into his skin now, visible in every line on his face, every wrinkle and age spot marring his hands, the slightly crouched way in which he walks. The responsibilities, the sacrifices he made in his faith, they mark his very soul, and his stern reputation has long since faded as he grew into a confidante, a mentor for many younger clergy members. You love his growing softness, physical as well as emotional. His caring nature had drawn you in when you met him more than half a lifetime ago, especially towards his brothers, hidden under so many protective layers of authority and sometimes even cruelty. But now it is showing so clearly that you can’t help but fall deeper in love with him every single day.

“Hello, fiore mio,” he replies, wrapping a slender arm around your waist.

“I love that you picked up gardening.” You lean into him, feeling his steady warmth. “I love you, Primo.”

He smiles. “Because I bring you flowers every day?”

You smirk. “Yes. But also no.”

“I love you, too,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “What made you get up from your comfortable spot on the couch to tell your old man this?”

“That unmistakable line of worry on your forehead.”

His expression changes, softens, and you lift your hand to smooth out the very crease you’ve been speaking of. He relaxes against your touch, wrapping his other arm around you as well until you’re properly nestled up to him.

“What is it, my love?” you ask, leaning back to catch his mismatched gaze.

A soft shake of his head. “It is silly. Silly old man thoughts.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Primo sighs, his fingertips digging into your flesh ever so slightly as he tightens his grip on you. “I am old, amore– No, hush!” You close your mouth again at his scowl. “I am old, it is true. You are the best thing in my life, fiore mio. I am grateful for you every day and I want you to be happy with me always, so it is natural that I worry about this, yes? That I am too old for you?”

You smile softly, running the backs of your fingers over his cheek. “I suppose it is normal, yes.”

He takes your hand that’s still hovering close to his face and brings it to his lips. “I worry about this sometimes but then I see you like this, looking at me with such love, treating me like I am the only man in the world, like I am still young and desirable.”

“You are still desirable. And you know I’m not getting any younger either.”

He shakes his head dismissively. “Your beauty only grows every day, amore.”

You feel your cheeks heating up as he presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, then another and another until you can’t help but giggle like you did when you were young and head-over-heels in love with him. And you still are that person, in many ways, only that your love has changed, evolved from a heated, passionate intensity to this soft, lingering feeling of bliss that every action now carries. The years have not weathered your love for each other but made it stronger and the solidity of those feelings, of your trust in each other, is worth more than anything else in the world.

“I will make some tea now,” you decide. “And you take a break to sit with me for a while.”

He nods, shoulders slumping as his worries slowly leave him. “Thank you, amore.”

You smile, holding his face in your hands to look into his familiar eyes. Throughout all those years together, the excited glimmer when he sees you has never once disappeared, and you feel ever so grateful that you get to see it every single day. When you lean in to press a proper kiss to his lips, he reciprocates and keeps you close for just a little bit longer.

Maybe these moments are how you propagate your love. And with a little care and patience every now and then, you know it will thrive, just like his devil’s ivy, for many years to come.

[saphiccarma]

- Just A Man

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Summary - Death lacked a true heart, but she swore her's beat faster everytime she saw Agatha. Unrequited for aaa week.

Warnings: Nothing

Death was born for one reason and one reason only. That was to do her job and keep the natural cycle of all things in balance. That was the one only reason Death came into existence. For the longest time, that was all she did. She took souls once they died, guided them into the afterlife, whichever one they believed in. Some went to the underworld, some heaven or hell, it all mattered on what they believed in.

And Death believed the only point in her existence was to keep the natural order of all things working.

But that was all disrupted when she met Agatha Harkness. Surrounded by a dozen bodies, their faces wrinkled, and magic sucked dry. When Agatha had launched herself at Death, for some weird reason, that was the first time someone didn't slowly die after touching her. It shocked her at first, to have a sobbing young woman in her arms, so Death had slowly cradled her back and whispered odd assurances into her ear.

After that, they continued to meet over dead bodies, death following Agatha around. Both metaphorically and physically. Death trailed after Agatha, and slowly, she begun to realize, that she was falling for Agatha.

Death thought that she was going insane at first, with the way her fingers twitched nervously whenever around Agatha. And when her cheeks were unusually hot as Agatha smiled at her, cheeks still a little round with baby fat, and eyes sparkling. Over time that spark began to fade. It dimmed in her eyes as she saw Rio more, but Death thought nothing of it.

She soon realized that her brain glitching when Agatha whispered words softly was a sign of what mortals called 'falling for someone'. From what she had heard, you had to have a heart to love someone, yet Rio didn't believe that was true.

Death lacked a real heart; she lacked any real anatomy and was unsure how her own body worked. Regardless, Agatha soon came to be Death's latest fixation, and she wished that she could hold Agatha close forever. But her duty called, and she mostly visited whenever Agatha killed. She almost wished Agatha would kill even more because of that, but that would disrupt the sacred balance, taking lives that didn't need to be taken.

And now, they sat by a river instead of bodies, relaxing in the soft sunlight that seeped through the trees. It was a warm day and for once, Death was able to see Agatha away from bodies. The water flowed in a steady trickle and seeped life into all the plants around it, making the grass a light green and the trees rise high into the sky. Death loved how nature worked. She also loved this small, secluded spot in the woods, it was her and Agatha's spot.

"Do you have a name?" Agatha threw a rock into the water, "Other than Death."

"No."

"Can I give you a name?" Agatha tossed a rock in her hand, bouncing the small stone up and down consistently as she glanced at Death. The witch didn't wait for a response, "Rio. Rio Vidal."

Death raised a brow, "Rio Vidal." She repeated it slowly, "River of life. You are aware that I am Death, right?"

Shrugging, Agatha smiled brightly, her eyes flashing, "With life comes death, right? Besides, I think it's fitting. We always meet by the river if not over bodies." It was one of the rare times Death caught her smiling, a genuine one with life, a sign there was still a fire burning within her.

"I like it," she said eventually, offering Agatha her own smile.

"Agatha, I have a question for you." Rio chewed on her lower lip, a habit that she picked up from Agatha.

The younger woman glanced up, "Well?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

Agatha froze, the rock she was bouncing fell to the ground, and now she was staring at Rio, eyes narrowed, "Why?"

"I think," she began slowly, each word harder to get out than the last, "That I am in love with you." If Rio had a heart, she was sure it would be pounding by now, but even so, she could feel the nerves buzzing beneath her skin.

"Rio," Agatha whispered softly, and Rio hated the way her name was said for the first time. Filled with so much guilt and apology, "I don't- I don't feel the same." The words sent a shock straight through her and Rio felt as if she had been punched in the gut. All the air escaped her and she exhaled sharply.

Her hands clenched together at the words, and she stood abruptly, "I'll see you next time you kill someone." The words were meant to hurt, meant to sting. She knew Agatha hated the killing, but it was what was necessary to survive.

Rio waved goodbye and she saw Agatha's mouth open angrily, but then she was gone.

After that, she only showed up to see Agatha whenever duty called, they no longer met by their spot at the river. Rio still went there occasionally, staring into the water as she swung her foot around causing small ripples to appear. Not once did Agatha show up there on the several times Rio had been back.

It stung, to know that Agatha didn't feel the same, and she probably never would. Death was stupid to fall for a mortal, an idea she should have shut down the moment the thought popped into her head. Death was born for one reason and one reason only, to collect lost souls and keep the natural order of all things in balance, not fall in love with some mortal.

"Rio?"

Rio's head snapped up at the voice and her eyes caught onto Agatha. The younger woman was covered in dirt, blood staining her face, and hair a wild mess. Scrambling to her feet, Rio grabbed Agatha by the shoulders, checking for any injuries but there were none. She met Agatha's eyes, surprised to see tears brimming in them.

"Are you alright?" she reached up to brush at Agatha's cheek, but the witch flinched away. She wiped at her face, smearing blood and dirt on the back of her hand.

Agatha bent down, rinsing her hands in the stream, "Fine."

"Agatha listen-"

"No, Rio, listen. You are an immortal being, you are death herself, and I am a mortal witch. There is no way a relationship would work out between us and you know that." Rio swallowed thickly at Agatha's harsh tone, "And what? Do you only like me because I give you bodies? Hm?"

She shook her head fiercely, "No, not at all."

Agatha scoffed, "That's not what it sounded like last time."

"Agatha, come on, listen to me please," Rio tried to grab Agatha's wrists, feel her pulse point, but Agatha yanked her hands away.

"No, I don't- I don't want to see your face anymore. If all I am is a pawn to you-" Agatha shook her head, "I don't want to see you anymore."

Rio took a step forward and tried to touch Agatha again, freezing when she saw purple sparking in the witches' hand.

"Agatha," She hated the way her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. It was the first time she had cried in forever.

"No, get out. Go away."

Against her better judgement, but maybe it was for the better, Rio nodded her head, missing the flash of pain flicker across Agatha's face.

"Okay Agatha," she said quietly, "I'll leave."

And for a brief moment, Agatha looked like she was regretting her actions, indecision flashing over her features. Rio didn't stick around long enough to hear if she had to say anything.

Every now and then, Rio would visit the river, secretly hoping for Agatha to show up. She never did. Rio would run her fingers through the water, skip stones, pluck flowers, but Agatha didn't come - not once. Death continued doing her job and when she sensed Agatha, she would show immediately, but the witch was already gone.

Death followed the trail of bodies, hoping for a chance to see Agatha again. The flutter in her stomach never stopped as she tried to track Agatha down. It wasn't hard, to find her, but every time she did, Agatha was gone before she could get there. Dark magic began to follow her as well and Rio knew what she had found. The Dark hold was a powerful thing.

And as that force of dark magic began to grow, Rio knew one thing. She had lost Agatha forever.

[elthadriel]

hi im here to cause problems 😌

💛🖤

any of the ships in the terrible horrible no good polycule (echofivestupdogmaslick+)

Despite his best efforts Tup can’t quite manage to tear his eyes away from where Fives is trying to eat Echo’s face. He wrinkles his nose. It wasn’t every day that your dead partner came back to life, but did they have to celebrate so loudly?

“I think this might be good for us,” he says.

“Really?” Dogma asks hopefully.

“Really?” Slick is less optimistic.

“Really.” Across the landing bay Fives gropes clumsily at Echo’s ass. Tup can hear them moaning from here. Is Five that loud with him? He hopes not. “I met Echo before he died—”

“Before he went missing,” Dogma interrupts.

“Before he went missing. And Fives talked about him all the time. He seems sensible.” They could use another level head around here.

Echo pulls at Fives’ hair with his remaining hand. Their mouths are open so wide they might as well be licking each other.

Slick hums in a way that makes people want to punch him. “By ‘met’ do you mean drooled at him working out in his ARC gear across the gym?”

“No! I mean I had a conversation with him.” He’d also drooled at him across the gym, but who hadn’t?

“Look, kid,” Slick says, as though Tup hadn’t ended up serving longer than he had, even if he’d been decanted first.

“Don’t call him kid,” Dogma says. He doesn’t look at Slick either, eyes locked on the two ARCs. He’d been drooling right next to Tup.

Slick rolls his eyes, but bows to Dogma’s wishes in a way he refuses to for anyone else. “I just think we should all keep in mind that Echo and Fives were already members of the 501st when I was arrested.”

A sort of dread that is usually reserved for when Fives and Slick really get into it pools in Tup’s gut. And maybe a little lower. It wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t mean that Slick and Fives fighting wasn’t hot. What would adding Echo to the mix even—

Tup needs to get laid. He has two actual partners and a sort of partner in the form of Slick. How is it he never seems to manage more than jerking off in the tiny shared fresher?

“Did he know you?” Dogma asks. “If he…” he trails off, eyes widening in an expression that Tup is familiar with. Sure enough, Fives has shoved up Fives shirt, showing off his broad back.

The landing bay is empty except for them, but there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way. They’re supposed to be laying low. Fugitives of the Republic and all that.

How had Echo even found them? Tup files away the question for when Echo’s mouth isn’t occupied trying to deep throat Fives’ tongue.

Slick cocks his head at the display, but doesn’t lose focus. “Nah, I didn’t interact much with the 501st if I could help it. But I bet I got some of their little buddies killed.”

Fives wedges a leg between Echo’s and Echo’s civvies don’t hide enough to for Tup to even pretend that Echo isn’t humping it. Echo’s lost the built ARC that Tup jerked off to a couple of times before he died—it had felt morbid after—but he still holds himself with a straight-backed confidence that hits very nicely despite the circumstances.

So Echo won’t like Slick. Fine. What’s new?

“Yeah, but no one likes you, Slick,” Tup says.

“We do,” Dogma points out, which is only true on a technicality.

 Slick lounges back against their ship looking so very pleased with himself. “Yeah, I’m sure he and Dogma will be the very best of friends.”

Dogma pales. “Fives and I have moved on,” he says very quickly.

“Sure you have, kid.” Slick says. “But you arranged for a firing squad to shoot Echo’s favourite lay. How do you think he’s going to feel about you? Even if said lay has decided to stop bringing it up.”

Dogma’s face makes it very clear he’s come to the exact same conclusion as Tup. So much for getting to fuck two ARCs at once he supposes.

“He’ll probably like you,” Dogma says to Tup, dejected misery having fully consumed any optimism.

“Yeah, trooper. You’re just everyone’s favourite.” At least Slick sounds happy.

“Lucky me,” Tup mutters.

They lapse into several seconds of blissful silence, interrupted only by the wet activities happening across from them.

Slick straightens up. “Huh. Those limbs are more dexterous than I’d have imagined.”

“Okay!” Tup slaps Dogma and Slick on the shoulder. “We’re waiting inside the ship!”

[lavender-z-love]

Angel

Mark Lee X Black.FemReader

Genre: Aftercare/Morning after, Valentine's Day, Idol Boyfriend AU.

Warnings: Suggestive, Mature, Sex, Potential Spelling Errors.

A/n: Alright, Here is the cute and flirty aftercare, I know I posted this before the Seggs part. Yeah sorry, I want it to be spicy 🤧 Anyway enjoy! I also Use Mark's Korean name 'Minhyung' and shorten it to 'Min' so no confusion.

Wordcount: 800

Part One: Baby Dont Like it

Part Two: Highway to Heaven

Part Three: Here

Light giggles heard into the wee hours of the morning. Your legs around your Valentine's waist, straddling him. You looked down at him from above. Holding his hands down at his side. The both of you, naked and fresh out of the shower.

Tiredness washing over him,"I take it..I did a well?" Mark asked looking up at you. Seeing you in nothing but his T-shirt was something he'd never imagine would come true.

"Mark, Kitten– you did an amazing job."

Your boyfriend, sliding his warm hands along your thighs. His thumbs gently rubbing your skin in tiny cirles. "I know you already answered me the first time...but are you sure you're okay Y/n?"

A smile spreading across your face as you leaned down. Your hands cupping Marks cute face a such, topping it off with a little kiss to his nose. "I'm alright Mark. I promise."

"Good, I just wanted to make sure." You're boyfriend smiles sitting up straight with you still straddling him. His hands slowly creeping up from your thigh, under your shirt and to your waist. The sudden and swift feeling of Mark's hot hands sending shivers up your spine.

"I like this..", Mark says looking up at you.

Your hands resting on your boyfriend's shoulders. "Like what?" Tugging on the shirt you're wearing, messing with you a little. "You in nothing but my shirt", he admits.

"Ooh, I see. What about when I take It off?"

Mark wrinkles his nose, "There should be no suprise on how I feel about seeing you naked. You felt it all night, didn't you?"

You smiled, recalling the events, then about how hard you'd been clinging to your boyfriend.

"Speaking of which– I'm err..Sorry about those scratches Kitten", you apologize.

Mark laughes paying them no mind. Looking at the now inflamed scratchs on his biceps, feeling the burning sensation from the ones on his back.

"Oh please, I like them. They're like my little trophy scars."

"They don't hurt?"

"No, just burn a little–", he pauses, lowering his voice just a little. "It's nothing to worry about, I should get used to it."

"Huh? Why? How come?"

"Well..I do plan on getting more. A collection of these beautiful scars hm? What do you think Y/n?"

Suddenly, being lifted and put on your back. Mark now on top of you, catching you by surprise. You attempt to hide your face with your hand but fail because of Mark locking fingers with yours.

That coy smile as he looked down at your restricted form. "You're incredibly shy whenever I do something you seem to really love, hm?" Your breath hitched, heart racing, now your eyes avoiding his contact; this boyfriend of yours was catching on to your little habits.

"M-Min, you're...I-"

Interupted by a kiss of his, embraced by his plump cushions. Almost like silk, so smooth, your heart began to melt all over again. Mark pulls away, his hands release yours; his thumb now grazing your bottom lip.

"It's okay to be shy Y/n. Besides, I know what you like now, so I can help you get un-shy."

You push up at Mark's chest, shocked by the sudden confession. "You pervert", you said flustered. Meanwhile, Mark chuckles finding your little conversation amusing.

"Oh? I wasn't a pervert an hour ago–" Your boyfriend said, kissing your jawline. Flushed face and hiding your face in your hands. "Okay, Okay. I'll stop Y/n." Mark said, plopping to the side of you.

Naturally, you get close to him. "Good kitten...otherwise I'd have to punish you."

"Not Against it", He remarks. Mark's arms weave around you, his hand now softly rubbing your lower back. "Of course you aren't", you say jokingly rolling your eyes.

His fingers gently tracing lines and patterns as he looked down at you. "By the way, Y/n? Are you free tomorrow or..later today?" Mark asks.

You yawn as you answered,"Of course, what did you have in mind?"

Mark chuckles at your little yawn, smiling wryly afterwards. "Eh..well, I'll let you in on the full details tomorrow, okay? Lets get you some sleep beautiful."

"That sounds delightful." You said with a smiled. Mark slings his arm around you, pulling you close. There was no need for covers, seemed like Mark was warmer. Though, you didn't complain, you loved it.

"I love you Minhyung."

Sweet lips place a kiss upon you forehead then your nose, then with his thumb underneath your chin, your lips. A cute, meaningful peck..

"And I Love you Y/n— More than you know."

Written June 5th 2023

[stxrmylxve]

Hi hi :DD

So I just found ur account and I rlly rlly like ur works!! I have this brainrot recently abt a TR prompt. I keep seeing people write abt the boys coming into s/o's house through the window in the wee hours and stuff, but what if it was reverse¿ idk I've never rlly seen a fic like that.

So can I request a fic where the baji trio (or Chifuyu only if it's too much) react to their s/o (gn but preferably female) sneaking in through their window at random times? (NO NOT IN THE CREEPY WAY)

Like for example Chifuyu finished whatever he was doing and goes back to his room and suddenly BAM s/o appeared out of nowhere, playing with Peke J. And it gets to often to the point that they even look foreward to it.

Maybe a bit crackish and fluffy? Bonus points if reader is a bit aloof and just makes themselves at home, not seeing a problem with what they're doing haha

Thank u and sorry if it was too specific, it's my first time requesting and I hope u will also enjoy writing this! 🙇‍♀️

I’m so glad you like my stuff^^ I get so worried when all I get are reblogs and no true feedback lol, thanks for that! Ofc, I don’t mind doing the trio!

Chifuyu:

He stumbles out into the kitchen, setting his manga down to momentarily stray away to grab a glass of water before scooping it back up to head back to his room. A sound makes him look up from his book, quirking his brow before thinking nothing of it and continuing up the stairs.

He walks into his room, shivering by a sudden gust of wind as he looks up with furrowed brows, his expression changing when he sees you sitting on the carpet sifting through his magazines with Peke J in your lap purring.

“Uh.. hey?” he greets, sliding the awkward magazines away as you looked up with a smile.

“figured you needed company.” you say as you slide up to sit on top of his bed, forcing Peke J to move up with you as you looked up at the ceiling.

“You couldn’t just use the front door? Like normal people do?”

“No.”

Baji:

He huffs as he looses the match in his game, throwing his controller onto his bed as he leans back in his chair, groaning as he brushes through his hair.

“Lost again?” you interupt his pity party, hanging half inside the window as you wiggled in the rest of yourself as you plopped on his bed.

“Only because some dumbass shorted us on supplies. Why ya’ here babe?” he averts the conversation, momentarily looking at your peeking bra before peppering your face with little pecks as you giggled.

“No reason, I was bored and was walking the streets and came across some hot guy’s house. I figured it would be nice to see what he was about, but his open window was calling me inside.” he rolled his eyes at the remark, only taking into account the ‘hot guy’ part as a small grin formed on his face.

“You think I’m hot?”

Kazutora:

You slipped inside his room, glancing at the clock that read ‘10:19pm’ on it with a frown. He was still up, but he had been in bed recently since the sheets were already undone and wrinkled.

You slipped under the covers as you reached up to pull the window closed, huffing when you had to sit up to do it. Kazutora came back into the room, setting his drink down as he eyed you.

“What’cha up to?” he asks, scaring the life out of you as you turned to facr his shadowed figure in the dark.

“It was cold in my room. And… I had a nightmare.” you said quietly as you shivered, his room not proving to be any better than your own.

“So you came all the way up the street to meet me for warmth and comfort? Dedicated.” he comments as he takes a sip of his drink and crawls next to you, stretching out with a small yet satisfied sigh.

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Adventures in Babsitting: Ground Rules.

Summary: The team sort out the plan.

Master-List.

@helenababs

@spoilerqlert

When Helena had prayed for something to hold over Barbara’s smug head, she wasn’t imagining stuff on the top shelf. After the glass of water, she was now brewing coffee for Little Babs.

The cup was green with some computer code on it. The kind of coffee mug that only a complete and utter dork would own, let alone use.

It was Dinah’s idea while they sort out the plan of… just how they would handle this situation. There were so many unknown factors in this moment.

How long would this magic last? Was it meant to be some sort of moral lesson about savouring youth? It looked to be a physical regression alone, but would that last? Would the mental stress build up?

“Are you almost done?” Barbara demanded from the table, breaking the brewer from her concern. Helena scowled. She couldn’t yell at a kid, she couldn’t yell at a kid, even if said kid is Barbara Gordon.

What Helena wanted to say was “In a second, you little shit.” But her mouth said something different and less profane.

“Almost done, you big baby…” Helena muttered under her breath as she stirred the half teaspoon of sugar through the coffee.

Setting down Barbara’s mug, Miss Bertinelli listened as Dinah asked the questions, Barbara answering all three in a quick succession.

“I feel fine, I don’t know how long it lasts, yes, I still remember anything, and thank you, Helena.”

She sipped the coffee, wrinkling her nose at the taste. Was it too hot? No, not that, there wasn’t a wince of pain, just surprise at the taste.

“How much sugar did you put in this?” She complained with a glare shot to Miss Bertinelli.

“Half a teaspoon. I didn’t know how much you wanted.”

An exaggerated sigh. Was she… pouting? Unbelievable…

“It’s fine. Thanks for trying.”

Dinah hummed, stirring her coffee as she took back the conversation.

“Well, while everything’s up in the air, the two of us might as well stay around.”

Helena watched Barbara’s eyebrows lowering in objection. She could also predict Dinah’s hand raising defensively as Barbara prepared to speak.

”I know that you said you weren’t a baby, that’s not what this is about. It’s a matter of safety, who knows what else this watch of youth can do. For all we know, it could last a week.”

Helena chose now to join the conversation.

“Saying this right now, if you get any younger, I’m not going to change you. Dinah can handle that mess.”

Barbara rolled her eyes, gently sipping her mug of coffee.

“Trust me, that’s not going to happen. But I do appreciate Helena being a helper in my current state.”

A scoff from Helena, Dinah chuckled.

“Aw, no love for me, Babsy?” She crooned playfully.

Barbara’s exceptionally mature and well planned retort was to stick out her tongue. Dinah snapped another picture.

“I can visit Zatanna later, see what she knows. But in the meantime, consider us your helpers.”

Helena could almost feel Barbara’s eyes on her.

“I can live with that, just keep the baby talk to a minimum,” Barbara accepted the terms.

“Sure, but don’t be a brat. And your curfew is at nine sharp. Half past if we’re pushing it.”

A roll of the eyes.

“I don’t need a curfew.”

“You might need a nap, if you keep acting grumpy,” Miss Bertinelli sniped, savouring in the indignant look she earned back.

Dinah smiled wryly, taking a long sip from her mug as Barbara and Helena went back and forth. Helena was clearly holding back her true insults, and Dinah could see the mischievousness in Barbara’s eyes.

Barbara’s eyes widened as her coffee mug was slid away from her.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“It is, but only if you apologise to Helena.”

“She started it!”

Dinah held up her finger disagreeably.

“You’re the one who complained about her curfew. Now be a good girl and apologise to Miss Bertinelli.”

“Dinah’s really nailing the caretaker voice,” Helena mused internally.

Helena, being the mature adult and not at all feeling a sense of vindication at having Dinah take her side over Barbara’s, raised her eyebrow.

“Well, Barbara?”

Barbara, with the type of exasperated stare that stayed with her no matter the age, rested on Helena before murmuring her apology.

“I’m sorry for your bad joke.”

“It wasn’t a joke, Barbara.”

That was probably the best they were going to get. And the ground rules weren’t terribly oppressive. If things went well, this might be smooth sailing.

The keyword being ‘might.’

[mamamittens]

Piece by Piece, You'll Come Back to Me

Part 9/13 of Spooktober 2023

@sunken-diver

Zoro X Reader (GN pronouns but Masc, so they are called brother)

Warnings: Kidnapping, yandere/possessive behavior, offscreen murder, and talk of corpses. Also this is inspired by the 1999 The Mummy movie, but it's pretty chopped up and loose at best. I was not writing a scene for scene rewrite lol

Word Count: 2,024

Luffy often dragged you into trouble. It seemed to be his job as an older brother. But he’d never managed to drag you all the way to a previously undiscovered section of ruins in the Egyptian desert alongside a book rumored to bring the dead back to life.

No, that was not something he’d ever managed before. Which is a little impressive if you were being honest. You’d lived in Egypt as an archeologist for several years now, Luffy naturally following and making fast friends on his own, so you feel this scenario was a tad inevitable. Robin thought so, at least, judging by her amused expression as she helped you climb onto a camel for travel to the sight. The last leg of the journey after a frankly disastrous accident on the river.

One that almost led to you being kidnapped but that was something to consider later. When you weren’t suffering under the scorching hot sun and intimately reminded that the library you were working at was perfectly climate controlled to preserve the many ancient works housed there.

Luffy laughed, punching Sanji’s arm as he saddled up.

“Ahah! Welp! That was an interesting ride, wasn’t it brother?” Luffy addressed you and you couldn’t help but smile.

“To be honest, Luffy, I really hope that’s the most exciting part of this trip.”

It was not the most exciting part of the trip.

In your defense, you’ve never liked alcohol. Let alone cheap wine. Couldn’t carry it if you had a bucket with instructions on the ergonomic handle.

Flush with the discovery of a sealed tomb belonging to a deliberately forgotten priest, you gleefully cracked open the Black Book of the Dead to see if your top-notch skills in ancient Egyptian glyphs was up to snuff. Pushing up your glasses before they fell off your nose as you did so. The heavy book almost winded you when you lifted it up to your chest, unlocking it with the puzzle box medallion to rest more comfortably on your lap.

Now, you’d read cursed scripts before. Usually promising an afterlife of discomfort and darkness or a life of having your ass bitten by fleas. Most unpleasant stuff. And you sort of expected this book to be no exception. Maybe some lines about being haunted by the inhabitants of the tomb that the book was resting in previously. Or the gods themselves cursing you.

What you instead found was a passage about the disavowed priest.

“—and he, o’ deceitful priest of the pharaoh, will be cursed to walk the earth for his greed. Banned from true rest, that foul, lustful man. Roronoa Zoro. Imprisoned forever more.”

Even more than a little tipsy you couldn’t help but frown. Luffy looking at you with his nose wrinkled.

“The hell did he do to deserve that?” Luffy muttered. You shrugged.

“Maybe he tried to sleep with the pharaoh’s wife?” You offered, personally a little doubtful you’d get a clear answer without scouring the entire complex maze buried under the earth. And maybe not even then.

That was when you heard it. Thundering hooves on the sand towards you campsite. Luffy jumped to his feet in alarm, the people further out firing at the intruders.

“Go! Hide in the tomb—I’ll come find you!” Luffy ordered, clenching his fists. “And take the book—they must be after it if they followed us all this way.”

Remarkably less tipsy than a moment ago, you closed the book and held it to your chest, running into the underground maze. Torches lighting your path as you instinctively ran towards the sealed sarcophagus of the priest. It was the furthest room you could think of and any locals so terribly interested in the Black Book would be wary of going in that far.

Only to find it empty. Totally and completely empty. Heavy stone lid on the floor and corpses of scarabs crushed at the bottom.

Obviously, someone stole the corpse but why?! Why now?! It had only been found hours ago! And it would have taken considerable strength to remove the lid—

There was a shuffle behind you and you whirled around in fright.

In the flickering torchlight, there stood a corpse. Withered and sickly gray, soiled bandages dragging as it stepped cautiously towards you. The smell of death thick in the stale air.

When you had turned around, it froze. Almost taken as taken aback as you were.

Something whispered in the air, a mumbled, breathless call.

And then the room was awash in golden light. Your clothes, modest pants and open shirt, traded for flowing silk draped over your shoulders and waist. The weight of a wig on your head with gold clicking at the end of the locks.

And before you?

A man. Tall and broad with golden skin. Green hair clipped short with modest robes bundled around his waist. Dark eyes fixed on you with a longing that made you breathless.

“After all this time… You find your way back to me. That foolish man could never hope to keep us apart.” He declared, his voice deep and resonating in the air with an almost doubled quality. English and ancient Egyptian laced together. He stepped forward as though you would bolt at the first chance. “Do you recognize me as I do you?”

You shook your head as he stepped closer still. The heat from his body washing over you as he reached out. Lifting up your face to look at him.

“I-I know your name… I think. But we’ve never met.” You confessed softly. He smiled indulgently. “Priest Roronoa Zoro… I think you may have me mistaken for someone else.” You informed him, flushed at the intimate caress of his calloused hands on your face.

He chuckled, the sound rushing over your face pleasantly.

“There is no mistake. It is not just your body that I know intimately well… but your soul. It calls to me still.” Zoro remarked, breathing against your lips like he’d die again if he had to pull away. Almost kissing you with every word. “And with my power we can finally be one. Memories can come later… for now, I just want you—”

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THEM!” Sanji screamed and the illusion shattered.

Cold, withered hands held your face gently. Rot and decay filling your nose as the corpse of a man thousands of years dead nearly kissed you. He whipped around with a snarl only to receive a boot to his face. Sending him to the ground as Sanji grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room.

“W-What the hell…?” You gasped, glancing behind you to see Zoro standing defiantly in front of his sarcophagus. Black Book in his arms.

For very obvious reasons, you could not stay there. Choosing instead to run back to the capital city.

Chopper was nowhere to be found, but Sanji assumed he made it out alright.

“He’s pretty good at finding his own way out of things, to be honest. After all, we were both in the same place but I was the only one that got arrested.” Sanji offered with a smile. “Now rest up. We’re going to have a full day tomorrow trying to figure out how to put that bastard back in the dirt.”

Ah right. The end of the world by the hands of a vengeful, resurrected priest.

Sweet dreams?

If only. Though it certainly seemed so at first once you’d settled into bed. A long few days of running across the desert with rumors of plagues and mysterious deaths in your wake left you feeling exhausted. You set your glasses on the bedside table and sighed, glad for the modern convenience of a proper bed again.

It started with the sound of falling sand. A gentle, sort of grinding sound. Too far gone to move but not enough to block out the sound with deep sleep, you huffed, burying your face in the pillow. The sound growing louder until you could almost feel the heavy weight of sleep lift off of you.

And then it stopped. And it was just you and the sound of rustling sheets in the dark room. And you drifted back to sleep.

Your name sighed into the still night air with a warm touch on your bare shoulder.

You weren’t sure what you dreamed of. A confusing, tumbled mess of sensations.

There was screaming. Firm, warm arms holding you close.

Harsh, sneered Egyptian curses.

Furious buzzing of locusts that nearly woke you. Your mumbled protests hushed with a soft kiss to your ear.

“Sleep. You’re safe here.”

Daybreak cast long curtains of warmth over you from an open window.

You shakily rose out of a criminally nice bed, bleary and half awake feeling like you’d slept for a week. Overly large shirt draped over one shoulder, the other bared. Definitely not yours, or Luffy’s for that matter. You fumbled around for your glasses carefully, not wanting to send them flying and need to search for them first thing in the morning.

“Ah!” There was a soft click of hooves. “Here. He’ll be glad to know you’re awake!” You accepted your glasses, recognizing the brown and pink smear as Chopper. His earnest expression looking up at you nervously.

“Chopper? Where am I? Where’s the others?” You asked, looking around the startlingly traditional Egyptian architecture. Smooth white walls and open windows with silk curtains billowing. Not any room you’d ever been in before, that’s for sure.

Chopper laughed nervously.

“W-Well, they’re somewhere, I’m sure. S-Safe! They are safe! I know that much. Z-Zoro wanted to ask before doing anything drastic. He’s been waiting for you for a long time, you know.” You frowned.

“Zoro? T-The mummified priest?” You grimaced.

“Well, to be fair, he’s not mummified anymore! Took some sacrifices but he looks much better now, I swear!” Chopper defended.

“Look, Chopper, I know he thinks I’m… well, someone, but he’s got to be mistaken!” You protested but Chopper just shrugged.

“He’s a pretty real priest, you know. If he says your soul is one he knows, I believe it.”

“It is. Though I don’t blame you for not remembering. Souls are meant to leave their past behind.” A deep voice called out. You whirled around and saw him standing there, just like the illusion.

Though he wore simple cotton pants now, his bared chest was that familiar golden tan. A deep scar ripping across his chest. Gold dangling from his ear as he smiled, striding towards you.

“W-What do you want?” You stammered, nearly falling back on the bed as Chopper scurried out of the room.

“This. This is all I ever wanted… you don’t remember, but in the past, we knew each other. You, the cherished son of the pharaoh. I… I was too eager to have you. If I had just waited a little longer, we could have been lovers without interference. But I was brash and the pharaoh was not pleased.” Zoro smiled helplessly. “Trying to kill him probably didn’t help my case, either. He already couldn’t stand the thought of you having suitors. Ah, but now? Now he’s long gone. And we’re free to be together.”

“…Is that really all you want? What about the plagues and the curses?!” You asked, still freaking out a little as Zoro pulled you close to him.

“I intend to rule, obviously. And who could stop me now? But above all else, I wish to have you by my side for eternity. As we were meant to be.”

You swallowed hard.

“And… if I said no? That I didn’t want that?” Zoro smiled, almost indulgently.

“Eternity is a long time to say ‘no’.” Zoro pressed his lips to yours and your heart fluttered despite itself. His eyes still staring deep into yours. “I’ve waited for thousands of years just to see you again. I can wait thousands more for you to want me.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your face to his shoulder as he sighed into your ear.

“One day, you’ll wonder why you ever thought to say no.”

[hyuge]

I Do

The pianist in the corner plays a soft, loving melody, their fingers dancing over the keys with all the grace and elegance of a seasoned ballet dancer. Flowers adorn the front of the church sanctuary and guests sit in the hard, wooden pews, whispering to one another. Katsuki looks out at all their friends and family gathered as he holds the sheet of paper in his trembling handles. He’s prepared for this, but it still fills him with anxiety. Eijirou is the love of his life, and he needs to get his feelings across just right. Their moms are in the front row, sniffling softly on opposite sides of the aisle. Katsuki’s father nods his head encouragingly.

He glances down at the three-piece suit he’s chosen to wear for this day. There’s not a single wrinkle in sight as he meticulously ironed it that morning before making his way to the church. It’s black with a white dress shirt and red vest and tie. Eijirou’s favorite. Katsuki’s heart aches as his gaze flicks to Eijirou’s peaceful face. He looks perfect as always. His hair is spiked up in the front but cropped short in the back. There was an argument with the others on whether or not his hair should be spiked as it’s not very formal, but Katsuki stood firm. On a day like today, Eijirou should be allowed to unabashedly be himself.

Eijirou has a gray suit on. His hands are folded together against his stomach and there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He has makeup on, but it’s done in a way that suits him perfectly. It’s not too much and it’s not too little. There’s a touch of color on his cheeks and lips, and thin black wings fan out above his eyes. With his hair spiked up, Katsuki can see the scar on Eijirou’s eyelid clearly. Time has made it fade and shrink but it remains a permanent reminder of how their quirks can both help and hurt those around them.

Katsuki swallows the lump in his throat and unfolds the paper. He’s had it for so long that it’s worn with age, but the black ink is still legible. He forgot how much he wrote. Honestly, Katsuki could draft an entire novel of all the reasons he loves Kirishima Eijirou, and it still wouldn’t be long enough to properly convey his feelings. Condensing it down to a single page was harder than becoming the number one hero. He wasn’t into poetry and all that shit, but he would write sonnets if it meant Eijirou knew exactly how much he meant to Katsuki. He always thought those stupid puzzle-piece metaphors were sappy, cliché bullshit, but it’s true. Kirishima Eijirou is the piece that completes his. They are meant to spend the rest of their lives together. Anything else is unacceptable.

A hot tear tracks down his cheek and drips onto the paper as he sucks in a breath, willing the words to escape him. He stares at Eijirou and bites his lip, then begins to read:

“Ei, we’ve known each other since we were fifteen years old, and I’ve known I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you since I was sixteen. It’s insane how much I fucking love you.”

He glances up at the priest standing beside him. “Sorry, Father.”

The priest inclines his head for Katsuki to continue.

“You push me to be a better version of myself every day. I’ve done a lot of growing over the years and none of it would have happened if you hadn’t bulldozed your way into my life, loudly declaring that we were friends, even when I was an asshole and adamant on not needing friends.”

Their guests chuckle, likely thinking about how boisterous Eijirou was back then. Katsuki continues.

“You fill my life with so much light and warmth. Every morning that I wake up to your smiling face is a good morning. Every night that I see you when I come home from work and before I go to bed washes away the stress of the day. Hero work is so stressful but there you are, offering a massage or to cuddle—anything to take the edge off. You have always been my unbreakable horse. You’re the immovable object in my life but I also don’t want to even consider moving you. You anchored yourself within me. You’re my sounding board, my best friend, the love of my life, the man I want to marry and spend my future with.

“Every moment without you feels like I’m walking on a bed of nails. I would rather—”

Katsuki chokes on a sob.

“I would rather never know what love felt like than know what love without you feels like. I know our friends and family will be laughing at me for years to come over these vows but that’s how much I love you. I don’t care about the stupid jabs and jibes they make at my expense. You make me want to live, and every day that I get to be with me makes me glad that I was born. It makes me glad that I wanted to be a hero. If I didn’t, then I never would have met you at UA and we never would have ended up… ended up here today.”

He lifts his gaze from the paper to Eijirou’s face. Their matching rings sparkle in the light of the sanctuary and the stained-glass windows cast a blue-green hue on Eijirou’s restful face. He’s too at peace as he lays there in the coffin. It’s not fair. Katsuki has already read these vows to Eijirou once on the day of their wedding, but he felt it necessary to read them to him again today at his funeral. He had no way of writing a proper eulogy for his husband. The only words he ever wants to say to him are how much he loves him.

Katsuki violently wipes the tears from his face with the back of his hand. “Today is the day we finally unite as one but in reality, we’ve been united since we first fought together during the attack on the USJ that first week of high school. We worked in perfect harmony back then and it was the start of something incredible.

“So, I vow to always be by your side and protecting your back. I’ll cook while you clean. I’ll love you until we’re both old and gray and full of wrinkles and can’t stand each other’s old-man smell. I’ll make you soup when you’re sick, just like I know you’ll do the same for me. We’ll spend our days off lazing about the apartment or camping or hiking. I vow to count all the stars in the night sky with you, explaining what each one is and how many years it would take to get there. And even when I’ve used my last breath, I’ll still take one more to tell you I love you. Because Kirishima Eijirou, I’ll be damned if there’s anyone else I would rather spend the rest of my life with. It’s you and me always and forever. Katsuki and Eijirou. Eijirou and Katsuki.

“Til death do us part.”

Katsuki crumples the worn-out sheet of notebook paper in his fist as he jams it in his pocket. His shoulders shake as the sobs wrack his body now. He bites down hard on his bottom lip as he approaches the casket, ignoring the crowd of people that are either waiting for him to continue speaking or to step off the stage and allow someone else to go. Katsuki grips the edge of the casket for support and sniffles. Tears spill onto Eijirou’s lifeless form, and Katsuki gives his husband’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m so mad at you,” he says. “You weren’t allowed to leave me, not like this. We were supposed to have our whole lives together so why was your life so short?”

He chokes on a sob and pulls the wedding vows back out of his pocket, placing them under Eijirou’s hand. Katsuki waits for a moment, expecting Eijirou to squeeze his hand and tell him everything is going to be all right but when nothing happens, he turns away without another word and moves back to the pews to sit between his parents who hold him close as he cries into his mother’s chest like he’s done so many times as a child.

Kaminari goes to the stage. His usual energetic aura is replaced with a more somber one as he tells a story in vivid detail about Eijirou saving him while they were working. Katsuki tunes it out. He has no interest in what anyone else has to say about his husband. He just sits there quietly crying as his mother and father soothe him, rubbing their hands up and down the length of his back and whispering about how he will eventually move on from this. Today is for grieving. Tomorrow is for the future.

Written for the @ficwip Dark & Cozy challenge. You can also read it on AO3.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super Manga ch.88-90

The 2023 Dragon Ball Apocrypa Liveblog concludes with the DBS manga's adaptation of the Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero motion picture.

First up, we have this three-chapter prologue/prequel thing starring Goten and Trunks in their lankey teen bodies. It's well-made, but I'm not impressed. Find out the reason why... inside!

Okay, as the image above shows, this is all about the boys' playing superheroes while they're in high school... just like Gohan did way back in Dragon Ball Z. The main difference seems to be that there's two of them doing it this time, and their motives are a little more frivolous. Gohan came up with Great Saiayaman because he just couldn't help but foil crimes, and the costume allowed him to save the day without giving away his identity. Goten and Trunks also want to keep a low profile, but they mostly seem to be doing this shtick because they're on a superhero kick lately. They call themselves "Saiyaman X1 and X2", but their act mainly imitates their hero, Cleangod, who has a franchise of movies, video games, and so forth.

The added wrinkle is that they're also trying to keep this thing a secret from their families, as Bulma and Chi-Chi wouldn't approve of the boys screwing around like this when they should be studying. I guess it was okay when Gohan did it, but times have changed, and Trunks in particular isn't doing so hot on his report cards.

That does keep things mildly interesting. For example, you'd expect the boys to use costume changing watches like Great Saiyaman had, except they don't want Bulma to find out. So Trunks asks Pilaf to make them instead, and Pilaf can't make them as quickly, so Trunks doesn't get his until chapter 88 is half-over, and Goten's isn't ready until chapter 89. And you know, it probably would make things a lot simpler for Goten and Trunks to avoid the Saiyaman stuff altogether if they don't want their moms to find out, since they've seen this trick before. But they're doing it anyway, I guess because they're just that deep into the Cleangod fandom.

However, this still feels like a retread of a storyline we've already seen. Reading this, I feel like I've gotten too old for Dragon Ball. I know that isn't true. I'm looking forward to whatever happens in Chapter 101 onward, and Daima seems promising, even if it wasn't what I had in mind. There's always something interesting around the corner... but I see stories like this one that are more interested in rehashing older material, and it just feels tired and stale. Younger fans may not mind at all, but I see this and wonder if all we have left is just rehashing ideas we've already seen before.

Besides all of that, I'm not a big fan of high school stories, and there's a healthy dose of Trumai... and let's just get this out of the way before we go any further: I'm not that interested in the whole "next generation" thing.

I know there's a lot of fans who really dig the whole idea of exploring what happens to Goten, Trunks, Marron, Uub, Bulla, and Pan. I respect that, but I've never been very invested in any of them. I liked what we got out of them in DBZ, but that's about it. Let me kind of single out Goten so I can discuss this more easily. For the sake of argument, let's just call the "next generation" concept "Big Goten", since it features the teenage or adult version of the character, as opposed to the little guy in the Buu Saga and most of Super. Trunks, Marron, and the rest can be lumped into this, but it's easier to just refer to one character.

Basically, this 3-chapter arc is probably the best "Big Goten" story by default. Your other options are the End of Z episodes which barely do anything with him, or that one GT episode where he fights Baby and gets possessed. Or the Super Hero movie, where he's barely in it.

And yet, we have this 3-chapter arc, and Goten's basically playing sidekick to Trunks. That's not a huge problem in itself. You'd expect these two to be side-by-side, but it's mainly a Trunks story. He's trying to get Mai to go out with him, but she's part of the Pilaf gang living at Capsule Corp, and they have to be useful or Bulma will kick them out. So she's too busy repairing these "helper robots" that malfunctioned recently. Trunks thinks he can investigate the case as Saiyaman X-1 and get Mai the weekend off so she can date him. Goten's just sort of along for the ride. He enjoys the superhero bit, and he likes goofing off with Trunks, so it's all good.

And honestly, you could probably switch these two around and have Goten be the one trying to solve crimes to go on a date, while Trunks is the supportive wingman. But that's the problem. We have this one story, and they both kind of have to share it, and it really doesn't matter which one of them gets the lead.

Like, in this arc, we learn a little more about Teen Trunks. He's not doing well scholastically, he lacks Bulma's talent with computers or science, and... he's still carrying a torch for Mai for some reason. Oh, and he's afraid of ghosts now. It's not much to go on, but at least he gets something. All we find out about Goten in this thing is that he likes Cleangod, just like Trunks. Oh, and Teen Marron has a brief appearance where it turns out she really likes Cleangod too. Also several of Goten and Trunks' classmates enjoy Cleangod. And Dr. Hedo likes Cleangod. You know, that's how you develop your characters, right? You make them all like the same thing.

The point I'm getting at is that for years I've heard that Big Goten is this untapped well of great story ideas and this arc finally gets around to that and... it's pretty underwhelming. That's the big idea? Superheroes? Again? It worked for Gohan because it was a fresh idea when he did it. And it worked for Dr. Hedo because it helped set him apart from Dr. Gero. But all it does for Goten and Trunks is give them another set of clothes. Trunks is still pining for Mai and Goten is still just happy to be here. It's not enough. It's not nearly enough.

So let's move on. The boys head into town one night to investigate the Helper Robots that are mysteriously disappearing. Turns out they've been hijacked by Dr. Hedo's Alpha series androids. Strictly speaking, the Alphas are just corpses stolen from a morgue, reanimated with cybernetics. Remember those goons working at the convenience store in the beginning of Super Hero? Well this is the same group of guys. Hedo's problem is that he's fare more brilliant than Gero ever was, but he lacks the resources and funding to make the kinds of androids that he wants to make. The Alphas are functional, but only just. Their brains are defective, and you can probably only steal so many bodies from the morgue before the cops get wise to you. So Hedo's big idea is to hijack the Helper Robots and use them to manufacture sushi packages for profit. He could build something more efficient for this, but this will have to do until he gets the cash.

Oh, I forgot to talk about how Pilaf built the Helper bots. I'm not clear on what they do, but there's a lot of them in the city, and apparently Pilaf pitched the idea to Bulma and she okayed it. At first I was surprised to read this, but then I remembered that Pilaf had his own Dragon Radar way back in the day. It wasn't as sophisticated as Bulma's, but it goes to show that Pilaf knows his way around technology. This isn't some new thing they slapped onto his character, like Trunks suddenly being afraid of ghosts.

For a second, it looks like Goten and Trunks are discovered by the Alphas, but it turns out Trunks' pals from school have snuck into the production floor, and they're the ones who get discovered, so Trunks has to go in and save them. Except his superhero wristwatch malfunctions, so Goten has to take out the lights to cover for him.

Trunks cleans house, even defeating Alpha 12, who was the strongest guy on Hedo's team. When Hedo himself arrives to find his base wrecked, his only clue is that it was trashed by someone who goes to "Blue Hal" High School. It's a major setback for Hedo, but what really upsets him is that Trunks took an important disc from his safe. Hedo wants to recover it above all else. Ironically, Trunks isn't even that concerned about the disc, since all he really cares about is disrupting whatever Hedo was doing to the Helper Robots. That way he can get his date with Mai, except it won't. Even more ironically, Mai still has to work on Saturday night, because she and the Pilaf Gang have to repair all the Helper Robots Trunks smashed in Hedo's base. Whoops!

Later, Trunks tries to use Bulma's computer to access the data on the disc he took from Hedo's sushi packaging shop. He briefly sees information related to Cell, but he doesn't recognize its significance, probably because he only knows Cell from hearing about it through his family. Anyway, the disc gives the computer a virus, which Bulla removes because that's her big character defining moment in this story. She's basically a carbon copy of Kid Bulma from the Jaco manga, but at least she's not another Cleangod fan.

Anyway, Bulma had decided to start sending Mai to school along with Trunks. Apparently she realized it might be awkward if anyone noticed Mai working for Capsule Corp. and not going to school. This just now came up? I mean, the Pilaf Gang have been here for a few years at least. If anything, it would have been more awkward when Mai was younger, right? I mean, I get it, this is just a way to get Mai involved in the story, but still...

There's also another new student in Trunks' class: Baytah. Trunks' friend Rulah takes an immediate liking to him, but this is pretty clearly a new android created by Dr. Hedo. The Alpha series was no match for Saiyaman X-1, so he created a new Beta class to infiltrate Blue Hal High School and find out who X-1 really is. Beta begins to suspect Trunks, since he displays some above-average performance on the basketball court, but he can't find a way to prove it without giving himself away.

So here we have this weird scene where they're getting soup for lunch, and Trunks is sad that he can't get extra. Then Beta pretends to trip or something, and throws his soup into the air. I guess the idea was that Trunks would have to use super powers to dodge it, or he'd get it all over his nice school clothes. But instead Trunks just sort of shifts to one side and the soup miraculously lands in his bowl. And he's happy because he gets extra soup? How does it all fit in one bowl, though? Is the lunch lady only filling them up halfway? This whole bit is really contrived, is what I'm trying to say.

Somewhere along the way, Mai figures it out and explains it to Trunks, so they know Beta is looking for Saiyaman X-1. So he knows to be careful about showing off his powers, but Goten just picks up a truck during recess to get a tennis ball back for his classmates. See, Trunks, this is how you get the ladies. Mai is like 55 years old. She doesn't care, but if you pick up a truck or two, all these teenage girls will go wild. Right now, these two girls are thinking about how much they wish they were trucks, being held in Goten's mightly-yet-gentle hand.

Anyway, now Beta is convinced that Goten is the one he's after, and Hedo tells him to attack and get the disc.

So Beta reveals he has a goofy superhero suit of his own, but Goten can't fight seriously because he doesn't have a transformation watch yet. Fortunately, Trunks does, so he shows up as X-1 and quickly slips Goten the new watch Pilaf must have made last night.

I'm not thrilled with Beta's design, but I like the concept. Faced with both Saiyamen, he deploys Beta 2, which is a robotic exosuit that can separate and fight in two modules. The Betas are here for the disc, but neither Goten or Trunks has it. Mai does, because Trunks gave her his bag while he ran off to pee or whatever excuse he had to switch costumes.

So Trunks has to save Mai from the Betas, and as he catches her, she briefly mistakes him for Future Trunks, the only version of Trunks Mai seems to have any interest in. The Saiyamen clean house, and the day is saved. Trunks very nearly tells Mai that he was X-1 all along, but Goten stops him before he can spill the beans in front of the whole school.

Okay, but what's the point? I mean, Goten just lifted a truck with one hand a minute ago? More importantly, Great Saiyaman was revealed to be Goten about ten years earlier. Not that I expect these students to remember that, but that's my point: Gohan was worried about everyone finding out he had super powers, and in the end no one cared.

I mean, there's still the matter of not wanting Bulma and Chi-Chi to find out what they're up to, but that sort of doesn't matter? I mean, the moms just want their kids to study more and screw around less. It doesn't really matter if they're playing superhero or going fishing. Their moms know they aren't studying, because they've got the report cards to prove it.

Back at Hedo's (other) base, he realizes he underestimated the Saiyamen, and realizes that he'll have to build even better androids to defeat them. And he's taken a liking to the Saiyamen's costumes, particularly their capes, so the implication here is that the Gammas' designs were inspired by Goten and Trunks' antics in this story.

Later, we finally get to that convenience store we saw briefly in Super Hero. Hedo still needs money, especially if he plans to build something to defeat the Saiyamen, so he puts three of his Alphas to work at the "Mammal Mart". It's Krillin who makes the bust, and for some reason Mai is there too.

Despite his lofty plans for better androids, the best Hedo can manage is to send more Beta series androids after Goten and Trunks. Beta 7 looks like an Elvis impersonator, and he intercepts Goten's school bus, but Goten changes into X-2 and beats him. Apparently this sort of thing has been going on for a while now.

Mai takes Goten aside and reveals to him that they're being watched by a tiny spy-robot. After the Beta-1 incident at school, Mai investigated and learned that Dr. Hedo is a famous scientist in the area, and she believes he's behind all of this. Apparently he's already figured out Goten and Trunks are the Saiyamen, since he's been sending Beta androids to harass them.

Mai's plan is to defeat Hedo by using the school dance to lure him into a trap. The organizers have arranged for a live appearance by Cleangod at the dance, which... seems kind of odd for a high school dance, but nothing about this super-hero business really makes any sense to me.

Like, okay... I've been a comic book fan for over thirty years. I just read a bunch of Golden Age Captain Americas a few months ago. I think I know the genre pretty well, and nothing Dragon Ball Super does with the concept really rings true to me.

In the first place, the Dragon Ball characters are already superheroes. I went from Batman to Superman to Marvel to Dragon Ball Z, and it was a pretty smooth transition. I never stopped liking the other stuff that came before, so it's not like my tastes changed all that much. I just see DBZ as a natural extension of the same stuff I liked in Marvel and DC.

It made sense when Gohan became Great Saiyaman because the only trope he hadn't done yet was the secret identity thing, and the only reason it had never come up before was that he'd never needed one before then. Once he got into high school, he suddenly had friends he wanted to keep secrets from, so he did the same thing Clark Kent did in 1938.

But then you have Goten and Trunks doing it because they think it's neat, and they're fans of Cleangod, who is a fictional character to them. And this is probably because Hedo was doing the same bit in the movie, where he would wear a costume and do the poses because he was imitating other fictional superheroes. So the idea seems to be less about the superhero genre as I know it, and more of this ironic "Let's be comic book nerds and do cosplay, and also we have super powers so we can do more than just pose in the suits."

Which... fine, I guess. The thing is, I don't understand the fascination with Cleangod. I mean, it makes sense for Hedo to be an enormous fanboy, because he's a nerdy scientist. I'm a nerdy scientist, so I can relate. He wants Cleangod's autograph, and I'm running an anime blog in my late 40's.

But Goten and Trunks are not nerds. Neither, it seems, are most of their classmates. They all seem like fairly normal teens, mostly interested in dates and school stuff and snooping around abandoned factories or whatever. But this high school dance is going to feature a live appearance by a man in a superhero costume. That's the sort of thing a circus would do to get small children to show up.

Is this an ironic thing? Like, did Goten and Trunks start out thinking Cleangod was cringy kidstuff, and they just kept getting deeper into the fandom until they started liking it for real? Is that what's happening?

Sorry, I was explaining Mai's plan. Okay, so Cleangod will be doing a meet-and-greet at a high school dance party. Okay. Dr. Hedo is a huge mark for Cleangod, so Mai is certain he will crash the party just to meet Cleangod and get his autograph. And she plans to be there when he does, so she can shut him down once and for all.

And she gets to go to this dance, because she's attending with...

...Trunks. He wanted to ask her to this thing, but she asked him instead, so he's all a-flutter over this, never realizing that she's just using him to get at Hedo. Except.... she's attending this school now. She doesn't need a date to get in. Hedo is the one who has to find some way to get access to the building, because he's not a student.

I like Mai's armor in this scene, although it really never comes into play. Also, Trunks brought Hedo's disc with him, because.... I have no idea. Maybe he doesn't want to risk losing it?

As expected, Hedo does show up for this thing, and I guess it's because Beta-1 is still registered as a student? I'm more confused about this signing event in the middle of a dance floor. This just feels like a hot mess. Trunks and Hedo bond over their mutual love of Cleangod... wait, I thought Trunks was excited about getting to go on a date with Mai? Priorities, Trunks!

Anyway, Hedo confides to Trunks that he had a Cleangod autograph before, but it was stolen, so he's here to get another one. Hold on, doesn't Hedo know Trunks is X-1? I mean, he was sending androids after Goten, so he must know he's X-2, right?

Mai tries to get Hedo, but then Beta shows up, and Rulah explains that he got back into the school, so she asked him to the dance. I really like Rulah. She doesn't know what's going on, but there's a new boy in town and she's gonna make time with him. She's like an Archie character.

Then the cops show up. Yeah, just draw your guns in a big crowd of children, Krillin, that makes a ton of sense.

Hedo uses a smokebomb to escape and everyone chases after him. By the time Cleangod comes out to make his big appearance, everyone is gone except Mai, who isn't impressed. That's the thing I can't square with all of this. The running gag seems to be that superheroes are both cool and uncool at the same time. People were lining up to see this guy, but the punchline is that he totally sucks? I guess? Characters will praise Goten and Trunks' costumes and then later characters will call them corny.

Like, which is it? That's the thing about superhero comics, at least from my perspective. In the real world, you either think Batman's awesome or he's a giant dork in a fursuit. Fine. But in the Batman mythos, just about everyone takes him seriously because he's a mysterious badass. I get it, Cleangod's basically Adam West working car-shows in the 1970's, but Saiyaman X-1 and X-2 are the real thing. They fought robots in the middle of the football field in front of everyone. I mean, no one called Goten corny when he lifted that truck.

Oh, by the way, Dr. Hedo's jalopy is awesome.

Krillin (reluctantly) brings Goten and Trunks along to chase down Hedo, and he fills them in on the situation. The cops have been after Hedo because they think the Red Ribbon Army is trying to stage a comback and they want to contact him. That.... doesn't quite square with the movie, but we'll talk about that later.

Anyway, they get to Hedo's (third?) base and he's got a dinosaur android to stop them. This is the biggest, strongest one he's made so far, but it's still not very sophisticated, simply because Hedo lacks the resources to build anything better.

It gives the Bio-Broly Buster Crew a little trouble, but Krillin disables it with a kienzan, and then Goten and Trunks take it out with a double-team move. And Hedo's going to jail.

So what about that disc? Turns out it never mattered. Hedo memorized all the information on it a long time ago, so the disc itself had no value to him. What he wanted was the case, which contained, in addition to the disc, his prized Cleangod autograph. Remember? The one he told Trunks got stolen? They didn't know it at the time, but Trunks was the one who stole it in Chapter 88.

And that's really dumb, because Trunks did try to investigate the disc in Chapter 89. He didn't get very far, but he still had to open the case it was in, so you'd think he would have noticed the Cleangod autograph inside. I mean, another character might not have paid any attention to it, but Trunks is a huge fan of Cleangod himself.

And if Hedo truly had no use for the disc, why didn't he throw it away a long time ago? In this scene, he says he discarded it, but he must have only done that in the last few minutes, before Krillin showed up to arrest him, since Trunks had the disc before the dance. This whole thing is supposed to be clever, but it's kind of dumb.

Anyway, this whole caper explains how Hedo got sentenced to prison at the beginning of Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero. He could have been given a longer sentence, but according to this story, he agreed to return some of the Alphas back to the families of the corpses he built them out of. This is supposed to be funny, but it's just kind of bizarre. Like, are we saying Hedo resurrected the corpses? I thought the idea was he just used a dead body to build Alpha 12. But this seems to suggest Alpha 12 remembers his former existence. That's kind of fucked up.

Like I said at the beginning, there's a lot that is well done here. Toyotaro's art is on-point as usual, and there's some great action scene with Goten and Trunks. I think the big highlight of the arc were all of the side characters we see at their school, like Rulah and the others. Trunks' math teacher looked pretty cool. The problem is that they were never going to be the focus of this or any other story. It's taken years for Toei or Shueisha to do anything with Goten or Trunks, so their pals may never see the light of day again.

And that's what disappoints me about this arc, because it may have been the one chance of getting a good teen Goten and Trunks arc, and they blew it on this. Did we really need a backstory on Hedo's prison sentence? Did anyone leave the theater not understanding why he was in jail? Was anyone confused as to how he came up with the designs for Gamma 1 and 2's costumes? No. We didn't need this.

One of these days, there will be an official Big Goten story that gets it right. But this ain't it, chief.

[officer-achilles]

Wolf 359 Character Headcanons

(Appearance, Sexuality, and Gender)

Officer Eiffel

+ My initial interpretation of him was a Chicano/Mexican-American man with short hair and dark tanned skin. Upon the introduction of fanart to my psyche I became an Eiffel ponytail truther, but I tend to still envision him as Mexican-American or like mixed Mexican and White. I think my mental image of him has stayed pretty consistent overall. I still don't know how tall he would be, but I would imagine he's squarely average if not mildly shorter than average. Five o'clock shadow at best, unkept short beard at worst. Also, I like Transman!Eiffel as a headcanon- he's just been transitioned so long that he has reached 'just some guy' status. He would take off his shirt and have his top surgery scars out and if people ask about them he just kinda laughs and admits he forgot they were even there. Also... bisexual to a fault.

Commander Minkowski

+ My first imagined look of her was as an average height (maybe slightly taller than average) dark-skinned black woman with short dreads. Upon the introduction of fanart I have become a short Minkowski fan, but I cannot consistently decide anything else about her physical appearance. Except that I tend to prefer her with short hair (chin length or shorter). Race headcanon and build headcanons are in a constant state of flux, any image of that woman I see is just her. Bisexual but didn't realize it until she met Lovelace. Definitely made jokes about being the only straight person in her theatre classes when she was young. Also, assumed cisgender but meeting and getting to know Lovelace has her reconsidering this aspect of herself as well.

Dr. Hilbert

+ I imagined him hot from the jump, I'm not going to lie to you. I imagined him as a smoking hot, tall, loser dweeb of a pale white man with white blonde hair, freckles, and the worst eye bags you'd ever seen in your life. And of course rectangular glasses. Finding out he was (likely) canonically bald devastated me. I accept any and all fanart interpretations of him however, and will kiss him no matter what. So... yeah... I still like to imagine him as tall though, with white blonde hair that's tied back in a small ponytail. And a few freckles. He has so many wrinkles though and looks perpetually exhausted. Also Dr. Hilbert has no understanding of gender and if you made him tell you what he identifies as, he would just settle on man- but out of convenience. If he wasn't so occupied with science he'd realize he was something nonbinary adjacent. Any pronouns. Also, probably bisexual. But again, he's too focused on his research to realize this.

Hera

+ Blue circle. I envisioned her as a little blue circle, or just an intercom with a voice coming out of it. When I decided to actually think of a physical form for her however, I came up with a retrofuturism Marilyn Monroe AI girl with blue skin and unsettlingly bright blue eyes (or perhaps stark white eyes, depending). Then if she was humanized I imagined essentially the same thing but a dark-skinned black woman. Every interpretation of Hera rings true to me though, I literally have never seen a Hera fanart or description I did not like. I think Hera would accept any pronouns outside of it/its pronouns because she finds them dehumanizing when used on her in specific. Also, pansexual most likely.

Lovelace

+ I initially envisioned her as Native American, long braids, tanned skin. Then I switched to a dark-skinned black woman after I saw the live episode. I support any and all Lovelace fanart interpretations, though the short hair more butch looking Lovelace art has a special place in my heart. Also, in my head Lovelace is a lesbian with a complicated view of gender. He/They Lovelace anyone? Though I think Lovelace wouldn't mind the use of she, I just think Lovelace has an active enjoyment of He/They being used to refer to them.

Maxwell

+ I never pinned down a visual for Maxwell. Sometimes she has glasses... sometimes she doesn't... sometimes she has curly hair... sometimes it's straight... All I know is she has it dyed in some fashion. Perhaps highlights in a bright color or an ombre of some sort. Also... freckles... always freckles. I do rapidly switch between stereotypical dweeb looking Maxwell and girly girl looking Maxwell though. I saw a post somewhere saying she seems like a Sanrio person and I agree. Also, genderqueer in some fashion. Probably ambiguously transfem though I can't be sure. And because I can- lesbian.

Jacobi

+ Either the MOST cisgender man to ever live OR the MOST transgender man to ever live. If he's cisgender then he is SO cisgender that you can call him whatever and he'll just accept it. Or he's just dripping in gay transman swag. He literally met Keppler in San Francisco, he is a walking pride parade. Though this is in the sense that you may not be able to tell just by looking at him on the clock- but in his off time he wears tank tops that are just a little *too* cunty. Burn scars were not in my initial idea of Jacobi but I love them now. Honestly Jacobi in my brain at first was very jock mixed with surfer for some reason. White guy with wavy brown (maybe dirty blonde hair) and a cocky smile. Then somewhere down the line I made him Latino. Because- because- I- I'm Latino. Latino Jacobi just seems good to me, though Filipino Jacobi and Black Jacobi also are near and dear to my heart. Though I never complain when I see Jacobi fanart. Also he needs glasses but in my mind tends to wear contacts.

Colonel Keppler

+ Guys... I'm so sorry... I... The first time I saw fanart of him where he was white I felt jump scared. He's just... a surprisingly cuddly looking Black man to me. Large, broad shouldered, but with a kind smile (when he does smile) and a surprising lack of muscle definition (he could bench press you with ease though). I also fuck with Asian Keppler heavy. Every Keppler is a good Keppler, I can never hate- but I will admit that classically good looking movie star style White Keppler always throws me for a loop. Also, cisgender man (probably). The probably is because if you ask him about his gender identity he will just stare at you in silence for a long time until you get uncomfortable and change the subject. Also... bisexual?

Mr. Cutter

+ White man. Aging twink central. Business suit. Black hair. Big smile. That is all. He would celebrate pride month by blowing up a space station but the explosion would be rainbow. Or he would just leave rainbow frosted store bought cupcakes in the employee break room.

Dr. Pryce

+ White lady. So white. White lady with brunette (maybe dirty blonde) hair tied into an excruciatingly tight ponytail. Also glasses. She does not care about pronouns or gender but she will glare at you if you try to use any neopronouns around her.

Rachel Young

+ East Asian. Very put together with a pencil skirt, blouse, and a blazer. Also secretary glasses and black hair. I admittedly have not seen any fanart of her yet, but I'm sure I'd be open to any interpretation of her. As for gender... I think she is just a cisgender woman. She is a lesbian however, and she wanted Lovelace so bad.

Also Bonus...

Lambert

+ Nerd. Either unbearably tall and lanky or short and block shaped. Glasses. Dad haircut that ages him horrifically despite him not being that old. Probably white but I am ambivalent to his race. If you asked his pronouns he would go 'he/him/his' and he would struggle to understand the concept of they/them lesbians (not out of malice, never out of malice). Unsure about his sexuality. Maybe he can be the token straight. Wait no... that feels wrong...

Fisher

+ Tall, burly, I imagined him as dirty blonde with grease stains on him all the time. Gay. He/Him. But I saw a redheaded headcanon for him once and I fuck with it heavy. Also, beard? Perhaps?

Zelburg

+ See Dr. Hilbert. But maybe with a loosely tied up man bun this time. Possibly different glasses as well.

Fourier

+ Short, chubby, white woman. Red hair with freckles or brunette with freckles. Big round glasses. Probably a lesbian, probably a she/they in a rather ambivalent way.

Hui

+ East Asian, mildly shorter than average. Minimal facial hair. Wears Hawaiian shirts or similarly bold button ups under his lab coat. Gender? I hardly no her. (Will default to just saying he's a guy though...). Also sexuality? Why do you care- you wanna ask him out?