#in another life they'd be a cute couple

[senshis-top-surgery]

Maizuru and Senshi bonding over cooking, both Japanese coded but Senshi is more countryside and Maizure is a servant to a noble family yet still, food remains a constant, a way of showing love, and way of communicating without saying anything

He understands her because they are the same, even with all their differences

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[dollfacefantasy]

SWEET ESCAPE ♡

pairing: carlos oliveira x puppy-hybrid!fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: carlos takes off for a few weeks to plan an escape from umbrella for you and him. during that time, he enlists chris redfield to watch over you. when he returns, the two men you've come to care about want to have some fun with you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, threesome, hybrid!reader, daddy kink/ddlg

a/n: first kinktober fic yay. i know the pictures don't match timeline wise but re5 chris is my fav so let's pretend. i'm gonna try to get my kinktober fics out early each day (someone suggested 3 am which i think is totally cute) but we'll see how that goes. thank you guys for reading, reblogging, and commenting. smoochies <3

kinktober slot: day 1 - hybrids

"I've only been gone a couple weeks, pup. Did ya already forget who your daddy is?" Carlos's voice sounds through Chris's living room.

As soon as you hear the familiar timbre, your head snaps in his direction, ears perked up and tail already wagging fast enough to create a tornado. You hop off your spot on Chris's lap and bolt over to the man you'd been missing for the past few weeks.

You launch yourself into his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck to get a deep breath of his scent. His laughter vibrates in his chest against yours, and he spins you around like some princess at the end of a cartoon.

"I didn't forget. I could never forget," you mumble and nuzzle the beating warmth of his pulse point.

"I know, puppy," he chuckles, rubbing your back before he sets you on your feet. "You look like you were pretty comfortable with Chris though."

The words aren't said with malice or jealousy, just some more teasing. Carlos expected this when he left you in Chris's care. As soon as Jill handed him the scrap of paper with Redfield's number, he assumed you'd form a bond with the other man.

He wasn't stupid, and he knew you. His sweet puppy girl. You were his partner in the field, given to him by Umbrella. But now he was done with Umbrella's shit, so by extension, you were too. The past couple weeks he'd been gone was spent making arrangements for you two to flee to somewhere they'd never be able to drag either of you into their meaningless war ever again.

Gently scratching behind your ear, he sways a bit with you in his arms. He'd missed the feeling of your smaller frame against the muscles of his chest.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. Ever since you'd skittered to him from the lineup of other mercenary hybrids, he felt you latch on to some deep part of him. It was why he was gonna get you out of this life where you and him were treated like weapons.

When deciding who to leave you with, his first choice had been Jill. He trusted her, and she understood what you were and what you would need. It's not that you couldn't take care of yourself; you were physically and mentally capable of that. You just suffered from a touch of separation anxiety as a result of the canine attributes inserted into your DNA. You needed someone to devote yourself to, someone to keep you from being too lonely. She wasn't up for that task though. She had enough emotional baggage on her own. She couldn't support yours.

That's why she recommended Chris. Responsible, caring, attentive. He had all the right qualities to handle someone like you. Carlos met with him, and he had to agree. He introduced you to the other man, and you had no problem getting along. If Jill trusted him and you didn't sense anything off, he felt fine about leaving you with the guy.

But still, he knows how you are. He knows you can be needy. You love physical affection. You love having a lap to sit on and a firm hand to give you head pats and ear scratches. Just add a deep voice to coo at you about how you're such a good girl, just the sweetest little thing and you're set.

You look up at Carlos with a shy smile in response to his teasing. "That's just cause Chris is nice to me," you say.

He huffs another laugh and heads over to the couch with you, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

"I'm sure he is," he says, bouncing you a couple times before directing his gaze to the man sitting in the nearby chair. "Has she been good for you?"

"Of course. No complaints from me," he says. The flat line of his lips tilts upwards slightly.

"That's my girl," Carlos praises with a peck to your cheek, "Chris took good care of you, huh?"

You nod proudly, drawing chuckles from both of the men in the room.

"Did he do it as good as daddy?"

That gets a less certain response from you, but it garners the same amount of amusement from them.

"Good girl. Don't wanna hurt anyone's feelings, huh?" he teases.

Chris watches on and interjects. "I think I did a pretty good job though. Didn't I, puppy?"

He speaks with a knowing cadence, subtle seductiveness. You know what he's implying but so does Carlos. Before he'd left you with Chris, he'd been honest about the full nature of your relationship. Told him you were used to getting his dick at least once a day. It was basically a part of your bedtime routine, cumming knocked your lights out better than any melatonin could.

He wasn't sure if you'd want that from Chris. Certainly not right away. But after a week or so, he could picture you getting a little needy, desperate for something to fill the void Carlos's absence had created. And Chris was the perfect candidate. Big and bulky, warm and gentle. He wasn't mad about it. He made peace with the possibility of this happening. Even if you did let Chris soothe you for a few nights, you'd still be coming with him when the fog cleared.

"You did good," you agree with Chris. One of your legs lazily swings as it dangles from Carlos's lap, brushing the leather edge of his boot each time.

"Just good? I remember you saying it was more than good," Chris taunts affectionately.

The words trigger another wave of timidity over you. You sink back into the safety of Carlos's embrace and shrug. "It was pretty good."

"What'd Chris do that was pretty good?" Carlos chimes in. 

"Nothing," you say, too fast for it to be the truth.

"Oh c'mon. You can tell me," he says before teasing a little more, "You're not gonna get in trouble."

You pause, mulling over your decision. But then you decide to give in a little.

"He gave me a special treat."

Carlos grins at the answer. Now that you had admitted it in your terms, he knew he could keep poking and prodding. Even though he was ok with what had happened between you and Chris, he still felt an air of possession pluming up within him. The desire to make sure you knew who you belonged to.

"A special treat?" he echoes, one of his hands sliding over your thighs and between your legs. He doesn't actually do anything there, but you still jolt at the feeling.

You hear Chris chuckle from where he's sitting, bringing heat to your cheeks.

"Why don't you just tell him, sweetheart? You had no problem begging for it when we were alone," the older man taunts.

"Doesn't surprise me. She knows how to get what she wants," Carlos says. His fingers move back and forth on your inner thigh.

You squirm on his lap, looking up at him with your pair of natural puppy eyes. The truth floats between all three of you, left unsaid but known by everyone.

"What're you acting so shy for?" Carlos coos as his large hands slide up your waist, "You have nothing to hide."

Chris rises from his chair and sits on the couch with you and Carlos, only maintaining the illusion of separation by sitting at the other end.

Leaning into Carlos more, you let the question remain unanswered. Interest swirls in your pupils at the potential of Chris moving closer.

"Acting like I'm a stranger now?" he jokes.

You shake your head. Your eyes dart between the two of them as if they were two wolves closing in, ready to tear you apart.

"Don't be so nervous, baby. You know daddy's gonna take care of you," Carlos whispers.

And he stays true to his word. After a little more teasing, your clothes have come off while his are pushed around, leaving the necessary parts accessible. Chris stays in his spot mostly watching, only interjecting when needed.

When they get down to it, you end up face-down, ass in the air on Chris's couch. Carlos ruts into your cunt from behind, panting with each sloppy thrust. Your head bobbles against the other man's thigh. Soft whimpers pour out against the rough denim of his jeans. His hand strokes over the curve of your head in a soothing rhythm.

"Fuck, I've been missing this," Carlos grunts from behind you.

His hand splays across the small of your back and pushes down, keeping you at the perfect angle to take each thrust to the hilt. You whine as his cock rams deep into your insides. The occasional yelp bursts from your lips when his tip brushes your cervix, but Chris hushes you from above with sweet reassurances.

"You're taking it so well, puppy. Taking your daddy so well," he coos. His hand not occupied with petting you pumps over his cock lazily.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his leg. You nod weakly to affirm his statement. Carlos chuckles at your fucked out state and smacks your ass, knocking you forward.

"He's right. I can tell you've been missin' this. She's squeezing me like she wants me to never leave again," he rasps. His shaggy hair sways with the rocking of his hips.

"Never- ah- never want you to leave again," you repeat, your lips smooshing against Chris.

"Daddy's not leaving, baby. Never again," he growls while plowing into you.

A chorus of moans and whines come from you. The drag of his cock on your velvet inner walls has your eyes rolling back and your legs kicking lightly against the cushions.

Chris watches from above, the pace at which he jerks himself off steadily increasing. He can see a small patch of drool on his pants where your head lies. Reaching for you, he cups your jaw and lifts your head to make you look at him.

He sticks his hand out in front of your mouth and simply says "Lick."

You're not in any place to question the order right now, so you do as he tells you. You stick your tongue out and lick a broad stripe from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger.

He watches on with satisfaction as you wet his hand. When you're done, he lets go and allows your head to thud against his leg again. He brings the now saliva-slick palm back to his length and gives it a few tugs, the sensation much smoother with your added lubrication.

Carlos grins at the sight. He grabs you by the back of your neck and tugs you upward, forcing your spine to arch and his cock to slide even deeper.

A loud cry echoes from you at the new angle, but he holds you there and keeps bouncing his hips against the plush flesh of your ass.

"Look at you, so polite for Chris," he teases.

You can't really respond. The way your head bobbles around is enough to keep any coherent words from forming inside your mind. 

"Chris," he says, calling the attention of the older man, "Isn't she a good girl?"

He takes the bait and nods. "Of course she is. Such a good girl," he agrees.

Your tail wags, brushing against Carlos's stomach in the process. He laughs and uses his freehand to pat your ass again.

"You hear that, babydoll? Everyone knows how well-behaved you are. The perfect little puppy."

Now you do manage to respond. A loud whine bursts from your lips and you nod wildly.

"Uh-huh," you choke out, "'m daddy's perfect puppy."

"That's right," he huffs out with a laugh, "Think you deserve a treat."

Your tail starts whacking back and forth harder between him and you.

"You think you can cum? Think you can cum for daddy?" he asks.

Another quick nod shakes your head up and down.

"Mhm! I can, I can, I can," you babble.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Do it for me then. I want you to cum all over my cock."

To help you out a little, he snakes his free hand around your waist and pushes his fingers between your thighs. His digits swirl around your swollen little bud, sending shocks of pure ecstasy through you. You feel the building fizzle in your belly that makes your toes curl. Your fingers curl and uncurl, trying to find anything to hold onto.

Chris offers you the hand he's not using to pleasure himself. You snatch it and lock on, holding it for dear life while Carlos fucks into you hard. His own cock is flushed and aching, ready for release as well. He strokes it a bit faster, beating his fist up and down, up and down.

Carlos can feel you tighten up. Your body trembles with its proximity to release. He circles his fingers with more speed and applies a bit more pressure.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes from behind you, "That's it. Come on. Cum for daddy. Be a good girl for me. Show Chris how pretty you look when you let go."

The words send you crashing over the edge. You throw your head back and buck violently in his grasp. His strong arms keep you in place. They hold you nice and secure so he can fuck you through it.

Chris finishes next, unable to take the sight of you unraveling. He groans and melts against the plush cushion behind him. Pearly white ropes of cum jump from the tip and spurt onto the skin of his stomach. He pumps every last drop out of himself, still holding your wavering hand as Carlos starts to shoot his own load into you.

He moans loud too and strengthens his grip around you. The last few thrusts are particularly brutal. They nearly topple you over flat onto your face.

Carlos doesn't unhand you until he's done and feels his cum has been fucked nice and deep into you, hard enough to make up for the period of separation that preceded this.

When he pulls out of you, he scoops your body up and twists you around to cradle you in his lap.

"My baby," he whispers between a few kisses, "Always so good for me."

You nuzzle into the affection, and he strokes your jaw, directing you to look up at him. His fingers then turn your head, guiding you to look at the other man in the room.

"Chris did such a good job taking care of you. I think you should tell him thank you," he says.

You look at Chris with shyness in your eyes, as if he hadn't just watched you get your brains fucked out. "Thank you, Chris," you say.

He smirks at you, still a bit hazy from his own release. "No problem, pretty girl."

You can feel Carlos grinning against the side of your head. "How about you show Chris how thankful you are. Give him something to remember before we hit the road," he teases.

Now, Chris smiles and pats his lap. "He's right. I'm gonna miss you once you're gone, puppy. Maybe you can help me feel a little better about it."

A smile of your own spreads across your face. Leaning forward, you crawl in Chris's direction. At this rate, you'd be tiring yourself out, ready to sleep through the long car ride tonight and wake up at the location of your sweet escape.

[vivwritesfics]

PLEASE can we get more HOAF ?? Maybe their wedding with absolutely adorable Milo and Olivia OR their wedding night 👀👀👀 ~nurse-sainz

as two of you know, I've been seriously thinking about the hoaf second series. It has a title, but, because I don't want to start ANOTHER series until I finish a current one, it's something I'm going to be working on behind the scenes

1.7K

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnancy hormones

Series Masterlist

Feel free to buy me a coffee ☕☕

She'd never expected to be pregnant on her wedding day. It was nobody's dream, to be round and swollen while stuffed into a pretty white dress that you just know would look so much better if you weren't pregnant, on your feet all day, unable to partake in any of the drinking.

Her bachelorette party wasn't all that. But she didn't want it to be. The only people she would have invited were the other wags, girls she didn't know all that well. No, her bachelorette party was her and Olivia getting their hair and nails done.

They ended the day getting dinner, just the two of them. They sat there, sharing a too big pizza while Olivia went over her details plans of the wedding.

It was the best bachelorette party ever.

Daniel had two bachelor parties. One that was organised by Max and Lando to be the wildest night of his life, with almost all of the grid accompanying them. And one where he could invite Milo.

The party with Milo was mini golf. Carlos was happy to carry Milo around on his shoulders, teach him all that he knew. The boys had all agreed to let Milo win, but he didn't have to know that. After the golf they had dinner and drinks.

One thing about Milo was he couldn't keep his mouth shut about the baby. Maybe Daniel should have reminded him that Baby Ricciardo was a secret, but he didn't expect Milo to just blurt it out, either.

But none of the drivers were surprised. They couldn't be surprised about baby Ricciardo, not when the couple hadn't exactly been good at hiding it. Daniel's hand on her stomach, the little list of baby names they'd all seen on his phone.

The party without Milo, when Milo was at home with Olivia and his momma, it really was a party. Loud music, drinks, dancing, it had everything. But, the moment Daniel got more than three drinks in his system, he was talking about her.

Arm over Max's shoulder as he slurred out his name and how much he loved her. "I want to have another girl," he said to Max, but it was barely audible. "A little girl that looks just like her."

When she had her first dress fitting, there wasn't a bump. Or, at least, the bump did little to change her frame. Her dream dress fit like a glove and Daniel's mother was crying.

It was naïve to think that the dress would still fit by the time the wedding rolled around. Her bump had gotten exponentially bigger, to the point where she couldn't hit it anymore. Now that the drivers knew, it was only time that the rest of the world knew.

They didn't announce it in any way. No, Daniel's Instagram usually had a picture of her in his photo dumps and this was no exception. Just, this time, her bump was visible in the picture.

If the world of F1 was losing its collective shit, neither of them noticed. The Ricciardo family was wrapped up in their own little bubble, just the way they liked it.

A week before the wedding, her dream dress wasn't fitting. Why the fuck wasn't it fitting? Well, she knew why. It was stupid to think anything would fit over her bump.

"I hate this baby," she said through tears as she rubbed her bump. No, she didn't hate baby Ricciardo, not in the slightest. Actually, she loved baby Ricciardo more than anything. But still, she couldn't help but wish she wasn't pregnant.

The dress she wore on her wedding day wasn't her dream dress. She couldn't wear those cute white heels she wanted to wear, couldn't even see her feet.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, just an hour away from being walked down the aisle, an hour away from marrying the love of her life, she was ready to cry. She held it back, though, couldn't afford to ruin her makeup. "What're we gonna do with you?" She whispered as she cradled her bump.

"Momma?"

She looked at Milo in the mirror before she turned towards him. "C'mere, baby," she said and held her hands out towards him. Fuck, how was he almost seven?

As her son wrapped his arms around her, she wanted time to stop. Just stop, let her live in this moment forever. He was growing up so damn fast, he was going to be a big brother soon. "You look beautiful, momma," he said.

This time, she couldn't help the tears. Stupid pregnancy hormones. "Thank you, Miley," she said through a shaky breath as she stood up and grabbed a tissue. Gently she dabbed at her eyes, trying to save her makeup.

She smoothed her dress over her bump and took Milo's hand. "Let's go become Ricciardos."

Daniel had never been this nervous before. Not in his first race back after McLaren had let him go. He was sweating in his suit as Max stood with him. All of their guests were seated, but the most important people were missing.

The door opened and Olivia and one of her friends, one that had been over a few times, walked in. They tossed the petals out of the little white basket as she walked in behind her.

Daniel knew her relationship with her family was... strenuous, at best. That was why they weren't at the wedding. With her father not there to walk her down the aisle, Milo held her hand.

Daniel's breath caught in his throat. He knew she wasn't in her dream dress, not the dress that matched Olivia's, but she still looked amazing. Holy fuck, it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. But that wasn't what actually did it.

Milo was the one walking her down the aisle. Milo in his little suit that near matched Daniels. He stood tall and proud, head held high as he walked his mother towards his step father. 

The kids sat together through the ceremony. Milo couldn’t stop himself from fiddling with the little pieces of petals as his mother got married. They were incredibly well behaved throughout, with Olivia’s grandparents, and Milo’s grandparents now, too, keeping them company. 

This close, Daniel could see the faults in her makeup. He didn’t care about the faults, she looked gorgeous with or without it. But still, Daniel could see the smudges under her eyes as he slipped the ring onto her finger. 

Mrs Ricciardo. She was Mrs Ricciardo now. 

Daniel didn’t say anything about the evidence of her tears as he kissed her. And, once he had his mouth on her, he never wanted to stop kissing her. He couldn’t dip her, like he wanted to, but his hand cradled her bump, cradled baby Ricciardo. His baby. She was his wife and she was carrying his baby. 

This was the best day of his life. 

Their family and friends were cheering as he walked her out of the church and into the car. Even then, even in the car, he couldn’t keep his lips on her. But he had to make sure she was okay, that took precedent. Even knowing that, Daniel couldn’t pull his lips away from her own. So the words were mumbled against her lips. “Were you crying?”

He tried to sound concerned, by her lips against his had his voice coming out as more of a desperate whine. 

But, as soon as he said it, she pulled away. “I’m fine, Danny,” she said and went to rub at her eyes, rub away the evidence of her tears.

Daniel caught her wrists. “You look beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her again. “My wife looks beautiful.”

The way she looked up at him, fuck, he could have kept her in that car forever. “Say it again.”

“My wife.”

When they arrived at the reception venue, their friends and family were there, waiting. As soon as they climbed out of the car, Milo and Olivia were pulling away from their grandparents, racing towards them. Daniel couldn’t help but pick Olivia up and place her on his hip as Milo held his mothers leg.

“Are we a family now?” Olivia asked, her voice coming out almost like a demand. 

But nobody could blame her. She’d been waiting for this moment for a year and a half. 

Daniel rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “We always were a family, Badger.”

There was no part of her wedding that the new Mrs Ricciardo didn’t enjoy. She wasn’t in her dream dress, but, now she had that ring on her finger, now she was married to the love of her life, she didn’t much care. 

She danced, but she didn’t dance the night away, like she had dreamed. She couldn’t help but be emotional as she sat with Daniel’s parents, her mother and father in law, watching the guests at her wedding. They were dancing more than she was, at her own wedding. 

Holding her bump, speaking softly to baby Ricciardo, she watched as her husband and her children danced. Daniel’s grin was so wide as the three of them were the centre of attention on the dance floor. That was the man she loved. That was the man she married. 

“Your daddy, your siblings and I can’t wait to meet you,” she whispered to baby Ricciardo as her mother and father in law watched on, hearts melting. “You’ve got the best daddy going.”

And, as Daniel put Olivia down after spinning her around, he looked over to his wife. She smiled at him, a smile he’d never forget. As Olivia went to dance with Lando and Max took Milo to get something to drink, Daniel walked over to her. 

“Hi, baby,” he said as his hand met her bump. And then he looked up at his wife, meeting her eyes. “Hi, Mrs Ricciardo.”

“Hi, Mr Ricciardo.”

He kissed her, and she never wanted to let him go.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

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[penkura]

OP Men and Their Kids

Note: Hey, this is something I wrote randomly one day instead of paper I needed to work on. :) Don't worry, the paper was finished and turned in. I will also fully admit I have baby fever at this point in my life, I just gotta get a man lol. These are just some headcanon blurbs about a couple OP men and their kids, how many they'd have, the genders, that's all! Hope you like it!

Part Two Here!

Ace has a daughter, then another three years later. He's happy with just those two, he's a great girl dad and his oldest keeps his last name even if she gets married; he cries when his babies get married. If you can convince him to have one more, it'd be a third girl, you wouldn't even complain about it. Ace would cry again, holding her after she's born and happily introducing her to her big sisters. He sees himself, Sabo, and Luffy in the dynamics between his daughters. Your youngest daughter might be a crybaby, but she's the more adventurous of the three and her sisters are her biggest protectors. You're all his girls and Ace couldn't be happier.

~~

Law has a son first, then five or six years later a daughter, both fully planned and prepared for. Then surprise, there's another little boy two years after your daughter, totally unplanned but welcomed all the same. All three are beyond loved, the daughter is definitely named Cora. Your daughter might be a little bit spoiled, but Law tries to even it out amongst the three, that pirate captain side of him coming out as he tries to make sure they're all even. On nights when the five of you settle in your living room, Law still can't believe how lucky and blessed he is to have such a loving family again.

~~

Penguin has two daughters within four years of each other! Girl dad all the way, until the third child comes along and it's a boy, a total surprise, he'd fully expect another little girl. He finds it even more fun to have all three of them, the girls are protective of their baby brother, it almost reminds him of he and Shachi with Law when they were still teens. It's even more apparent how your children parallel that relationship, when your youngest daughter, at six years old, brings your two year old son to you when he's crying from a nightmare, you're both able to comfort and quell his tears. Penguin feels lucky to have all of you, and wants nothing more than for you to all be safe and happy.

~~

Sanji! Has a son AND daughter first, a cute little set of twins! He dotes on them and gives them all the attention they need. Eventually another little girl comes along, then one more boy a couple years after her. Sanji loves them all, but his girls do get just a tad more attention at times, especially once they realize that giving him puppy dog eyes net them whatever they want. Your youngest son attaches to him like glue, wanting to be with Sanji all the time, and he can see the similarities in how alike the two are, minus the abuse of course, and it makes him want to protect your youngest son from the world at times. 

~~

Zoro has a son, one that isn't planned at all. He hadn't even expected to have kids until this little baby boy that looks just like him comes along. After that, he expects that to be it. No more kids, just the one, just your son, until not even three years later you're pregnant again, with a little girl that's just as unplanned. Everyone is shocked, but when she's born, Zoro is instantly wrapped around her tiny finger and she's spoiled rotten by him. Your kids are both loved beyond belief though, both learning how to use a sword as soon as they're big enough to do so. Zoro is the one to convince you to have one more when your daughter is about five, and its a set of twin boys that make you swear off more kids in the end. They also start learning to use the sword one day, your third child falling into the three sword style that just inflates Zoro's pride even more. And yes, his daughter would be named Kuina.

~~

Note 2: I would absolutely marry Zoro and have his babies in a heartbeat. I'm sorry Penguin, I still love you.

Note 3: If you saw this briefly yesterday, no you didn't shut up 😆

[misteria247]

You ever realize that Wanda and Cosmo are always willing to tell Timmy that they love him and are proud of him??? Like Wanda's constantly calling Timmy cute pet names like sport or sweetie or hun and she's always quick to tell him that she loves him. And Cosmo he's always up to hang out with Timmy and always gives him his undivided attention and is Timmy's go to for mischievous fun????

Like these fairies take the time to do things with Timmy, they're always jumping at the chance to be around him and spend time with him. They're affectionate towards him. Constantly hugging Timmy or rubbing his back or shoulders in a comforting manner. And when Timmy makes a mistake and owns up to it and apologizes Wanda and Cosmo are always so quick to tell him how proud they are of him. They tuck him into bed, and sit with him when he's anxious and give his forehead little kisses. Wanda's always ready to fight a bitch for Timmy and Cosmo's always ready to defend and protect him.

They're always standing up for him, and stay with him even when Timmy's having a bad day or he's in one of his moods. Whenever something happens or someone nearly gets hurt Wanda and Cosmo's first reaction is "Where's Timmy? We have to get Timmy." And if he's hurt or taken from them they're immediately in tears or in despair because they can't take their boy, not their wonderful boy away from them. It literally breaks their hearts.

Like these two magical creatures love this boy to bits and pieces and it's so clear that Timmy isn't the only one who's deeply attached to the couple. Cosmo and Wanda don't just see Timmy as another job. They've invested themselves so deeply into Timmy Turner's life and well-being that they'd essentially claimed him as one of their own. Like that's just so fucking beautiful when you think about it. When you think about Timmy, and how he thinks that no one wants him or wants to have him in their lives only to have Cosmo and Wanda be like "Fuck em, we want you. Flaws and all kiddo, till the end of time."

Like they kill me dude, literally sobbing right now thinking about them.

[amaranthineghost]

| UNDER THE MISTLETOE ( logan sargeant. ) |

ꕥ pairing: logan sargeant x reader

ꕥ summary: life-long friends who always swore they'd never have feelings find themselves under a mistletoe.

ꕥ authors note: contemplated making this a lando imagine but it's so logan coded and there needs to be more imagines for logan cus he's so <3 (not proofread)

will be making a christmas imagine for lando and maybe another driver, not sure which one yet. also thinking of a mini series for 400 followers (tysm!) so if you have any ideas or requests, let me know <3

SNOW FLUTTERED AGAINST THE WIND. she'd tugged his arm, pulling him along the frost-covered wonderland. her arm outstretched to point out the dazzling christmas lights strung along the concrete path.

he watched her with admiration, he wouldn't notice he was, neither would she. but the other drivers sure did, their girlfriends too. the number of times they'd nudge each other with their elbows to point out the childhood friends, who stood too close to be considered just that.

they always denied it, pushing the idea of being anything more than what they were far away from their minds because they simply didn't want to admit it. not to each other anyways.

but they saw how he looked at her, like she was brighter than all the lights that shined around him, prettier than all the ornaments hung on various evergreens with snow dusting the branches, sparkling more than the snow when the light hit it just perfectly.

they saw how closely he stood to her, eventually lacing his hand with hers, laughing at how cold her hands were in contrast to the warmth of his. he'd slip his interlaced hand with hers into his puffer jacket pocket, noticing her relieving sigh at the warmth, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

the way his eyes flickered over her figure. the contrast of snow flecked through her dark hair, the lights reflection off her iris as her pupils dilated while watching the display in awe. the way she wore his williams racing jacket, though now christmas themed.

he hadn't realized how much time he'd spent just staring at her. he'd memorized every freckle of her face, the way her mouth creased and eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way her hair fell.

countless pictures had been shown to him of the pair, asking him 'if you're not in love, then explain this.' he couldn't, shaking his head with a nervous chuckle and the heat rushing to his face. maybe he was in love with her, he knew he should admit, but couldn't bring himself in worry that it'd force all the years of their friendship down the drain.

but it didn't stop him from hiding his smile every time he'd get a comment on social media about how cute the couple were, even when they weren't together. his cheeks would hurt from how much he scrolled through the comments, nervously biting his nails as he scanned the words from fans. new fans would mistake them as being together and he didn't mind, he actually felt his heart skip a beat every time he read something like it.

he'd scoff playfully at the comments for him to make a move already, but he was comfortable. watching christmas light shows with his girl—just his friend. but he'd secretly hope for more.

"they're so clueless," alex commented to his friend beside him, earning an elbow to the gut from his beloved girlfriend, lily. he winced, mouthing an 'ow' as she glared up at him. she thought it was sweet how obliviously in love the two were because they were in their own world, she wanted to protect that peace.

"how long do you think it'll take them to finally realize?" george commented, eyeing the couple beside him while his arm was around carmen.

"honestly, never." he shrugged, his answer was honest because he didn't think they'd have it in them to ruin the sanctity of their friendship for something more, even though they desired it.

"honestly," george had started by mocking alex, but had nothing to follow, "yeah." he'd exhale deeply, his hands moving to the warmth of his pockets.

they'd continue to walk behind the couple—who weren't a couple, but so obviously needed to be. they'd notice what the two were walking into before them.

but he'd be lost in his thoughts, contently staring at the girl's face lit up with the light that shined off christmas lights—and of course, excitement.

he hadn't noticed her slowed pace, her neck craned upwards, her muffled voice as if water separated them.

his name repeated from her lips, "logan." she simply said when his hearing focused back on her, his eyes unmoving on her face, "look."

he watched her lips part with a smile, not understanding her point of stopping in the middle of the pathway till he too looked where her eyes had.

tied neatly with red ribbon and decorated sparsely with berries of a matching color was the green of mistletoe. his heart skipped a beat and they'd stay staring up at it in a comfortable silence and realization.

he gulped softly, he felt the pounding in his chest as he turned to look back at her, finding her already staring with big eyes and parted lips, he'd realize now the sparkly gloss.

"well?" she'd question, and she'd watch his face closely, how his mouth would open, but nothing but utter gibberish spilled from his lips.

he nervously looked back and forth between her and the decoration before she'd realize his uselessness in such a situation. she'd rolled her eyes, pulling him in by the collar of his puffer coat till his lips met hers.

his eyes slowly closed as he registered what was happening. his hand pressured the back of her head, grasping strands of her hair between his fingers, and she squealed against his lips. hers were cold, tasting of mint and he felt the freezing gloss tingling against his.

he felt her hands along the sides of his head, their noses pressing together and the push and pull of their lips that moved in sync. his body became pressed on hers and it was like they were the only people in the world. they might've well have been.

and when they'd reluctantly part, clouds of their warm breath met in the middle as she stared up at him expectantly. he'd gulp again, a stuttering mess.

"fuck—be my girlfriend?" he'd manage out, maybe not exactly how he pictured because he'd imagine this scenario hundreds of times, but none like this.

she'd laugh at his nervousness, her arms wrapping around his neck as she'd exclaimed him, "yes."

his arms enclosed around her, his chin on her shoulder and he let out a massive sigh of relief as he saw the others cheering in the back.

"finally!" alex would call out with his hands curved around his mouth.

"told you so."

"whatever, take the damn money."

[penelopepine]

Forever In Your Gaze

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Fem Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Night at the museum AU. Gaz and Reader are both paintings directly across from one another, and have been in love for many years now. The only thing is that they are unable to actually leave the confines of their canvas, and have never felt others touch.

I wrote a blurb about this already here!

Word Count: 2,050

Content: Established relationship, fluff, light angst

-

"This class is the painting of the Duke of Hersling, Kyle Garrick, though he was often referred to as Gaz to his close friends." The teacher says while pointing at a large, full body painting of man dressed in his finest. The most striking things about the painting is the sword on his hip, and the intense straight forward stare. "He was a swordsman and a scholar during his life." 

"How did he die?" One of the boys in the back of the group yells out. 

The teacher smiles at hearing a question and says, "He actually died in battle; this painting was done only months before his death in 1545. Any more questions?" Hearing none, the teacher directs them to the painting directly opposite of the Duke. "This painting here was actually done in 1545 by William Bahr. A very prestigious portrait painter in his time.” 

The painting showed a woman sitting in a field of flowers with a bright smile. The sun is shining bright behind her while she looks lovingly straight ahead. Upon looking at both paintings it is clear that they are at eye level with one another; staring into each other's eyes. 

A girl this time raises her hand, and once receiving a nod from the teacher she asks, “What about the woman in the painting? Who is she?” 

“She is an unknown figure, the painting was never picked up by its buyer, and no documents containing that information were ever found. She is assumed to be the daughter of a nobleman though.” 

"Do you think she and the duke knew each other?" Another girl asks, looking between the two paintings, "I think they'd make a cute couple!" 

The rest of the students laugh at those words, and once they’ve calmed down the teacher says, “It’s funny that you actually say that! When I worked here during college my coworkers and I would always refer to these two as the forever gazing lovers.” 

“Mr. Sanderson, I didn’t know you used to work here,” a student exclaims, “I couldn’t imagine working at a museum. Wasn’t that boring; staring at the same stuff everyday?” 

“You’d be surprised how wild a museum can get,” He gives a light chuckle to himself, and looks up nostalgically at the art around him. “My favorite part was working as a night guard. It turns into a whole different world here, but enough about that let’s continue to the next room.” 

-

It was later in the evening when everybody was in the lobby getting ready to board the bus did the teacher see his old mentor and friend walk through the doors. 

“John Price!” He proclaims with an extended hand out. 

“Gary Sanderson!” John calls back, and shakes his offered hand. “It’s good to see you here again, lad.”

“It feels as if I never left, sir. How is everyone around here doing?” 

Price looks at him knowingly, “Everyone’s been good, they miss you, but they’ve been good. You’ll have to come and visit sometime.” 

“I will, promise.” Gary looks to where his students are just as the bus pulls up before whispering, “tell everyone I miss them as well. I’ll call later and plan a visit with you later.” 

“You better keep your word with that. Ghost and Soap will go and hunt you down if you don’t.” 

Gary gives him a laugh and one last nod before rushing back to his class, and leading them outside to the bus. 

With that Price turns and continues further into the museum. Telling folks that they will be closing in just a bit, and getting everything ready for the night to begin. 

It’s only half an hour later when Price is locking the door. He knows things are going to be very active in here in just a couple hours so he takes this time to get some of his actual work done. He sits in the lobby behind the reception desk until the sun has fully gone down, and the moon is high in the sky. 

He knows that the magic is about to begin when the moonlight that shines through the doors starts to have a more unnatural silver glow to it. Price watches as the silver moon rays slowly morph into a ball. In a matter of seconds the glowing sphere has finished growing in size, and suddenly it darts forward. Leaving Price where he was sitting as it flies past him, and travels down all the halls inside the museum. 

As it passes a piece of art it’s clear that the art then, as if waking up from sleep, slowly comes to life. It quickly passes the gazing lovers' paintings; arising them from their slumber. 

-

When Kyle awakens for another night the first thing he sees is you; which is exactly how he wants to start every night for the rest of time. Life was perfect for him with you, and the only thing he wished for now was to someday feel your touch; even if it was only once. "How is it that everytime I wake up and see that you just appear more and more perfect?” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” You giggle at his flirtatious words. He always makes sure to say words of endearment to you first thing upon waking up. 

“Well I would hope so! Otherwise what are these museum workers doing besides making sure my varnish is still in prime condition?” 

“Probably keeping the rest of the building from falling apart!” 

"I think Price is the one that does that." Kyle argues with mischief clear as day on his face.

"I'm gonna tell Laswell next time we see her that you said that." You say with a small chuckle before bringing your hand up to the invisible border keeping you inside the frame. 

Kyle watches as you bring your hand up, and does the same with his. This is the closest the two of you have come to holding hands with one another. Conversations from this point continue as normal for the two of you. Talking about whatever comes to your mind with one another. 

Occasionally talking with the other paintings around the room, or anyone that passes by. Farah, a statue of a queen who led her kingdom to victory in battle, and Alex, a wax figure of an American WW2 pilot, make sure to stop by and say hello. The two of them always stay for a few hours talking with you both before continuing on their way. 

It was only a few minutes after they left when Price walked into the room, a grim expression, coming to stand between the two of them.

“Price, everything alright?” Kyle asks with a worry in his voice.

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news for the two of you." Price runs a hand through his beard; he's clearly trying to already come up with a plan for whatever is wrong, "This area is getting a complete makeover tomorrow. You two would be very lucky to even be around each other come tomorrow night." 

Kyle immediately looks to you after hearing those words; he couldn't imagine being away from you. He's been facing you for years now, and Kyle is not in any way ready for that to change. "How do we fix this then?" He asks, directing his question towards Price. 

“I’m going to talk to Laswell tomorrow, but it’s Shepherd who is changing things around.” 

“Fucking Shepherd.” Kyle cursed the man to himself. That man was always making decisions about the museum that seemed to bring nothing but pain for everyone here. 

It was you who asked the next question, “Will she be able to go around him, and keep us together?"

"That's the goal. Shepherd isn't around very often, and even when he is he doesn't bother walking around the area. We'll try and switch a couple things around tomorrow night." Price huffed; he clearly didn't like what Shepherd was doing either. He was most likely going to be hearing a lot of complaints from the others in the area as well. "I've got others that I still need to inform, but trust me when I say you two will remain together." 

With that Price continues on his way leaving Kyle and you to dwell on the information he just told.

"Kyle I'm scared; what if they can't do anything, and we end up getting split up?" 

"I'll find you, love." Kyle is very serious as he says this to you, "This will not keep me from you. That I can promise." 

Kyle and you continue to discuss what this will mean for you both, and possible solutions to stay together. When the time comes to go to sleep again he finds a small amount of comfort looking into your eyes. For in your eyes that is where he finds peace. Kyle's last thoughts before the sun comes up is that he loves you. 

-

When Kyle finally realizes that he is awake once again it takes only a moment for him to know that it is not you that he sees. Instead he is in front of a painting of an older man with a dark background around him. 

Despite knowing that this would be his reality Kyle is still hit with the panic of not seeing you. He is quick to look around hoping that at the very least that you wouldn't be far, and could still talk to you right now. 

He bangs on the barrier, and calls out your name when he doesn't see you. Every time his fist hits the barrier a magical sheen ripples around where he made contact. Kyle does this for several moments even asking the others around him if they can see you.

Before he can continue once more yelling for you Soap appears seemingly out of nowhere in front of him. Following closing behind him is both Price and Ghost as well. Soap and Ghost are both bronze statues, who once the sun is up are two soldiers fighting one another in one of the Anglo-Scottish wars. It took Price a lot of effort to eventually get them on civil terms with one another. 

Which is why it’s almost surprising looking at where their relationship is now.

“Gaz!” Soap’s voice calls out. His friend brings his hand up to the canvas, placing his hand where his shoulder would be if they could touch. “Mate, you’ve got to calm down.” 

“Where is she? She was meant to still be in the area; she’s gone!” 

Price readily steps forward next to Soap, “She’s most likely been moved downstairs to storage. We’ll go and find out where she is, and carry her up once we do.”

Those words brought so much relief to him, but at the same time this situation was meant to be very different. “Why is she not here though? What did Laswell say about all this?” 

“Shepherd refused to let Laswell know anything that was happening. She’s trying to figure out what all he has planned, but some things may not be so easy to undo. All we can really do right now is wait.” Price calmly replies back to him. 

It’s Ghost who actually says the most comforting thing to him though, “Your girl has been moved, Gaz. She has not gone though you’ll see each other again, at most, in a few hours.”

The three give him a few more words of comfort before rushing out to find you. 

This time away from you has really made Kyle think about the first time he met you. It was just another night for him. He knew from Laswell that a new painting was going to be added, and would be placed opposite of him. Nothing could have prepared him for you though. 

The first time he woke up to see you had truly taken his breath away. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and once he had started talking to you his heart had been yours. 

With that in mind Kyle starts to push against the invisible barrier holding him inside the frame. He thinks of you as he pushes and pushes and pushes. Until suddenly, like a rubber band snapping, he's out.

Taglist: @zarsghost

Note: I finally wrote it!!! I hope you enjoyed reading this; feel free to let me know your thoughts!

[cobrabobra]

Dating Daryl headcanons:

as much as I love to imagine Daryl showering his partner with affection, giving you kisses and telling you he loves you, I think he's not the type of person to do so

I think he shows his love for you through spending time with you, providing for you, being there for you

I think he rarely says he loves you, he shows it through his actions, not words. He says it after a near death experience or before it.

Daryl looked into your eyes, deseprate and sad, he thought he will never see you again.

They picked him up to shove him into the truck, they wanted to take him to the Sanctuary, to break you two apart.

"Daryl" you only managed to rasp out, you didn't have any strength left in your body, not after seeing Glenn and Abraham die, not after seeing him hurt, not after being defeated, no, completely destroyed by Negan.

You wanted to lounge out, to tear him from their arms, not let them take him away. But you couldn't, they'd kill you, kill him, if you tried. Only thing you could do is cry and stare at him, pray to God that nothing bad will happen to him.

"I love you" he said, desperate to keep looking into your eyes, desperate to stay with you, forever.

I feel he isn't really into touch either, he's been touched in only the wrong ways all he's life, so he's afraid to be touched and to touch.

Of course he does touch you, but it takes time to get into his head that he won't hurt you. You can expect little, soft touches, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.

I think he'd appreciate if you'd try to contain yourself and not touch him a lot either. Every one of us wants to shower this man with love and affection, but I think that'd just overwhelm him. He'd like touches like, your head on his shoulder sitting near a fire, getting his hair out of his face, gently massaging his neck.

Although I think he'd enjoy an occasional, playful smack on the ass. He'd glare at you, act like he's mad, maybe call you stupid, but deep in his heart he'd enjoy this, that silly little interactions between you two.

When it comes to kissing, there's some, but not a lot and they're either soft, delicate kisses, like he's a kid kissing his mama on the cheek, kisses that show his appreciation of every single thing you're doing for him, there are awkward but cute kisses, like he's a teenager kissing his pillow imagining kissing his crush and of course there are rough, passionate kisses you two share during sex.

Does he take you on dates? Yes, of course. Are those traditional dates? Hell no. He takes you hunting. He's teaching you how to track, how to be quiet and not scare your pray, how to be a part of the forest. He keeps you close to him, your hands brushing against each other as you creep through the woods. And then you get to sit by the fire, eat your dinner, your head on his shoulder. You also ride his bike with him, sitting behind, your hands holding onto his hips, wind in your hair, warmth of his body seeping through. That's what dates are to him, spending quality time with each other.

He's extremely protective, he's lost so much people already, he's not losing you. Not to a walker, not to another person, not to anything. Whenever you hurt yourself, whether it's a small nick, a cut from choping vegetables or a broken limb, he panics. He doesn't show it that much, but in his head he sees all the possibilities of what could happen next. If you're bedridden, he will not leave your side even if a herd was passing by or somebody held a gun to his head. If there was a situation where you and a couple other people were in danger, he'd sacrifice someone if that's what it takes to get you out of there safe and sound.

If somebody hits on you, he'll be quick to react. He probably wouldn't be the type to threaten somebody because they tried to flirt with you. He'd probably do everything to spend as much time with you as he can, to show the other person that you much rather spend time with him than with them. He wouldn't tell you but he'd feel insecure and in need of reasurance that he's the one you want, that nobody else matters.

He'd want to have a family with you, not sure about kids, but you, Daryl and Dog would make a great family, kids or not.

He wouldn't know how to propose, he's not good with words nor being romantic. He'd like it to be romantic but that's probably not gonna happen.

"Hey, you want it?" Daryl raised his hand, a ring between his fingers, looking at you with his puppy eyes. His heart pounding like crazy in his chest, begging God that you'd say yes.

"Ye-yeah" you said, shocked at his actions, you hadn't been expecting that. A big smile on your face as you took the ring in your hands. "Thanks, Dixon"

"No problem, Dixon"

For Daryl love isn't butterflies and fireworks, it's the calmness and peace he feels when you're around, it's the quality time spent with you, it's the family you two build. That's love for Daryl.

Happy Valentine's Day!

[lilislegacy]

I actually have my own little head cannons about percy and annabeth's own family, and I'm gonna share them for no reason other than being annoying <3

Percy and Annabeth have lived in unstable homes throughout their childhood; I truly believe that they got married in their early twenties after college

Annabeth hyphenated her last name! She becomes "Annabeth Chase-Jackson" because she loves the Jacksons and is a part of their family while also keeping her last name because she's THE Annabeth chase and it's iconic

I think that they always wanted kids together, but it was always a thought for the future, even when they got married and were busy with their careers

So yes, their first kid was a total surprise, but a very happy one

They were the first of the hoo group to have a kid

Their first kid's a boy (ik unpopular opinion), with blonde hair and green eyes.

I always imagined they'd named their kids something both unique and greek, with maybe a middle name after a lost hero? Giving the first name of a lost hero sounds painful, and also defeats the whole purpose of Sally naming Percy after the only greek hero with a happy ending. An example I like is Amycus Charlie Jackson. idk tho, something more normal makes sense too.

Amycus would probably be a stereotypical angel first child tbh

Because they had their first kid so early on, I think their second would be a couple years later, I think around 4.

They'd have a girl next, Daphne Zoe Jackson, with Percy's raven hair and Annabeth's gray eyes. She'd be a little more troublesome lol, but in a loving way!

I honestly think 2 kids are good enough but my heart says they'd have 3. He'd be a surprise baby, and on the younger end of the hoo group's kids (if not the youngest). I haven't thought of much characterization for him yet, but he'd get Sally's blue eyes for sure.

And they live a great life in New York, I'm sorry but they aren't moving to New Rome! Especially Percy, he's a New Yorker through and through

Annabeth works from home from time to time as an architect, mostly to spend more time with her kids, especially when they're babies.

Percy has a pretty chill job doing something in marine biology or marine vet, so he's there for the kids plenty too

Sally babysits the few times both of them are busy

Ya that's their perfect domestic life in my head hehehe >:)

thanks for the ask @littlesillyfilly!

i love all of these!!! super cute! i shall go through each one

1. same! some people think they don’t get married, but i hate the reasons why most people think that. as demigods, percy and annabeth didn’t grow up in a stable family setting. i think they would want that stability, and to do normal stereotypical couple things, because they crave as much normalcy as they can get.

2. another vote for the hyphenated name! that seems to be people’s favorite option

3. yes absolutely. they always have wanted kids. it’s not even a question in my mind

4. i agree, for some reason i’ve always had the hc that their first kid is either a total shock, or it takes a really really long time for them get pregnant. it’s one or the other 😂

5. completed agreed. honestly? i dont even know if many of their friends would have kids. i mean, frank and hazel, together or not, probably would i think, albeit much later than percy and annabeth. but i don’t know if i see anyone else having kids. i think its not super common amongst demigods, especially greek ones

6. absolutely 1000% agreed. i have always thought and said that their first is a boy with curly blonde hair and sea green eyes.

7. agreed! i like them doing a mix of things when it comes to names. and this is so funny because i always have liked the name charlie (after beckendorf) for one of their kids! it’s in my percabeth baby names list LOL. so i think i like their second son being named charlie, and then i have a girl name for their daughter that i love.

8. oh absolutely. first babies seem to always be so precious and sweet and easy. that’s how they get you. then the second one comes and all hell breaks loose

9. i agree that their second kid would come a few years later. they would need a hot minute to adjust. having kids as a demigod would be hard i think, but once they get the hang of it, they want more!

10. i absolutely agree that their next kid has percy’s black hair and annabeth’s grey eyes! personally, i always imagined it being another boy though. he is their charlie in my mind.

11. yeah, i think they would originally plan on 2 kids, but end up having three (if not 4🤭). and in my mind, number 3 is their girl! i’ve always imagined her with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes with a bit of green in them.

12. you are team percabeth living in new york? ok ok i like it. idk personally i feel like they would start out in new rome, for safety reasons. also having a community of demigod friends and family would probably be very comforting for them. but i definitely see them ending up in new york again! percy is absolutely a new yorker through and through!

13. aww annabeth being able to work sometimes at home would be cute. i can see that!

14. can i just say im so glad people are getting on board with percy becoming an aquatic/marine vet?? i’ve always been so alone in that thought, so seeing other people like it and agree with it makes me so happy!! he’d be sooo good at it! but yes, it’s a chill job so he can be around for the kids a lot.

15. sally and paul would love babysitting. 100%

i loved all of these so much and agree with nearly everything!! thank you for these!!

[starsonablackboard]

you guys flooded my first post with notes yesterday which is a little confusing for me and also insanely cool, i've never received such feedback on my art, so thank you everyone!! you gave me motivation to draw something substantial so you get an updated lamb design yippee! probably not the final one tho

also another lengthy post which is not required reading, just some stuff i've been thinking about on and off for a couple of weeks. i codenamed it "with death comes peace au" in my head and it may become a fanfic at some point but i don't want to be too hopeful

relevant to the first pic

• i do love the "single parent to a small nation" type of lamb, but for my au i see them more as an actual Cult Leader tm, which means they have to be irresistibly charming and charismatic. they put a lot off time into their looks and mannerisms and behavior (they had some practise even before their first death and before the red crown, but that is maybe for a later post), and they aim for a "heavenly angelic benevolent" type, since they're a lamb, a soft and fluffy creature that's mainly associated with innocence and self-sacrifice

• also the malnourishment-looking hc from the previous post still stands, which is a pain in the ass for them. their head-wool is their best quality one tho, so they try to get the most out of it, and style it in this cute fluffy bob (that also somewhat hides the hollowness of their face) with little braids here and there and camellias that never wilt, cause yk, for power show off holy image upkeep purposes

• they actually do like their neck scar, but the flock finds it unnerving

relevant to the second pic

• so you remember how i said that they were laser focused on survival before their first death? they lived off of spite and spite alone, they knew of genocide for all their life (being born well after it started) and were determined to not let the bishops win. they didn't get a say in their birth, so they at least were entitled to have a say in their death (at least in their mind. but what a single sheep has on four gods)

• SOOO when the survival goal failed (kinda. task failed successfully yk) and toww gave them a new goal of cult leadership and slaughter, the spite became thirst for revenge. and it is a powerful tool, but it does not translate to the most graceful style of fighting.

• all that is to say that, yeah, they fight like a wildfire, and never really change in that regard. you don't have to learn defense if you kill your enemies fast enough (yes, it bites them in the ass. more often that they'd like to admit)

• i also liked the idea of them having armor, because let's be frank in the game they might as well be fighting naked, that wool cloak doesn't do anything for protection. i opted for a lightweight leather one since leather is easier to obtain, suits their quick movements and it's kinda a power move to wear armor that's made of your enemies' brethren. intimidation factor is important

[koolades-world]

Hi, hopefully it's still before the 5th for you bcz idk, bcz of the time zones 😭 Asmo and the number 40 would be cute imo. Congrats on 2k, that's a huge number! You must be really proud of yourself! Wish ya even more! 💕

thank you! don't worry you were on time!

so glad to see the asmo lovers come out of the woodworks for this event. i'll compile a masterlist once i complete the final request tomorrow but i think he got four requests which might be the most!

enjoy <3

prompt 40 w/ Asmo

Although Asmo was the avatar of lust and was famous for his physical beauty, you were surprised at just how many people overlooked the other beautiful things about him. Maybe it was just because they didn't know him like you did, but you could argue that his inner beauty rivaled that of what he showed off daily. There was no doubt that he was gorgeous, but he had many other glowing qualities.

You adored his mannerisms, like the way his hand always found it's way into yours when you walked side by side and the way he always looked out for you. He always scanned a room, looking specifically for you, and the way his face lit up when he saw you was adorable. You could help but melt at every time he went out of his way for you and appreciated you for you, and not what you stood for. You couldn't imagine your life without him. He always found a way to seamlessly add you to his packed schedule and you felt as if you were together more than you were apart.

One of your favorite things about him was his laugh, which was surprisingly something he didn't talk about much. He admitted to you once while drunk that the reason for this was because he didn't like it. You'd tried to comfort him in the moment, but he'd moved on and ran off before you could. After that, it hadn't come up again and you didn't want to drag down his mood. Any time he laughed at a joke you made, or when he saw one of his brother do something stupid, you thought about how much you loved it. To you, it was like the sound of the last school bell of the day. Hearing it instantly made you day better every time you heard it.

You couldn't fathom why he hated it, since he was the most handsome individual you'd ever met, inside and out. But, you always never pestered him about it because you knew what it was like to be insecure and dislike something about yourself. It was human, after all. Despite all that though, you'd always hoped that it might come up naturally one day and you could tell him you adored it.

"Mc, sweetheart, do you want another sweet tea?" Asmo got up and stretched his legs. Since the weather permitted it, the two of you, and his brothers were having a beach day. At first, it was just the two of you, but one by one, his brothers invited themselves along until they all wanted to go. Asmo didn't want to give up your time together, so he made his brothers promise they'd give you space. You knew that wouldn't last long, but you let him has his moment.

"No thanks. I'm still working on this one." You gestured to the half full glass beside you.

"Alright." He walked around behind your chairs to the cooler and refilled his own glass. He sat back down once he was done. Rather than shut his eyes again, he watched his brothers fool around closer to the water. Mammon and Levi were fooling around knee deep in the water. After a well timed, swift push from Levi, Mammon feel into the water. It must've been deeper than it looked behind him, because he got totally submerged. He came back up about a second later, furious at Levi. He tried a couple times to shove Levi back but failed every time. Asmo burst out laughing like he hadn't in a while, swatting your arm a couple times to make sure you were watching. While what Levi and Mammon were doing was undeniably funny, you couldn't tear your eyes away from Asmo.

"What? I know I'm beautiful." He swept his bangs aside and smiled at you, fluttering his eyelashes.

"You have such a pretty laugh is all." Asmo seemed a little surprised at your words. He opened and closed his mouth a couples times before shutting it all together. "Really, you do. I love it."

He wordlessly started at you, before responding with a quiet, "Thank you." The rest of your afternoon together was just as it had been before, but you caught Asmo giving you significantly more lingering looks. That night, his Devilgram post about you beach trip was very sweet and was mostly pictures of you and him together. He sat down with you after dinner and gave you a hug, and insisted on cuddling. You noticed he started to laugh more after you'd told him that. How wonderful it was to see how far one sweet compliment could take him. You were glad you could uplift him in the same way he uplifted you countless times.

[neon-junkie]

After Dark - Chpt.1

Summary: Tucked away in a lower level of Coruscant, Crosshair finds himself in a bar that he frequents - not for the drinks, nor the music, but for one woman, and one woman alone.

After months of silent encounters and flirtatious glances, Crosshair finally plucks up the courage to approach her.

Hopefully, she reciprocates his admiration.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!Reader

Rating: SFW (but will end NSFW)

Word count: 2k

Tags: Slow burn, Multi-chapter, Strangers to lovers, Flirting, Drinking, Dates.

Notes: Inspired by After Dark by Mr. Kitty - a favourite song of mine that reminds me of Crosshair.

I've been slowly working on this for a few months, and I figured I should at least post the first chapter lol. Curse depression for killing my motivation to write :(

She's here. Again.

That girl at the bar, sitting alongside her friends, chatting away in between the soft glances in his direction.

Crosshair's local watering hole, sometimes accompanied by his brothers, is a dingy dive bar near the lower levels of Coruscant. It's no 79's, far from it. Fuck that place, with its thumping music, overprices drinks, and hoards of regular clones. The Batch prefer to drink somewhere quieter - Crosshair prefers to drink somewhere quieter.

He's alone tonight, dressed in a crisp shirt and pressed pants, looking far too tasteful for a man who is simply out for a few drinks by himself. He's always been a fan of his own company, secluded in his usual little corner, a half-empty glass of bourbon sitting on his table. Within a couple of minutes, he'll finish the last swigs, and order yet another.

Crosshair never drinks heavily, a handful of doubles, and then he's gone. He'll stay in this bar for, what? An hour? Two at the most? He just needs some quiet time to himself, an escape from the rush of war and destruction, but coming to this particular bar wasn't his choice.

Back when the Batch were first deployed, and they returned to Coruscant after their first successful missions, they celebrated by going out on a bar crawl. Wrecker's idea, and seeing as they were still young and dumb(er), they all agreed to it.

One thing led to another, and they stumbled upon this place by chance. It's quiet, with soft music playing faintly through the speakers, a range of guests who keep to themselves, and shitty decor that was in dire need of a refurbishment a hundred years ago. But most importantly - they serve clones.

The Batch were only meant to have one drink here, one and done, then onto the next bar! Until a group of ladies entered the venue, a particular one catching the Sniper's eye.

Crosshair has never been one to ogle, stare, fantasize, or even crush on another being. Romance is… phah! Not his thing, Wrecker's maybe, and Hunter's for sure. But Crosshair? What's the point? Wasting your time, credits, and emotions on someone who will string you along for a few months, and then dump you out of the blue. Crosshair's cynical mindset has kept him far from ever obtaining a love life.

Everything clicked into place when he saw you, a revealing dress hugging at your body, heels that were clearly new from their lack of scuff marks, pristine hair and makeup, and a cute little clutch bag hung over your shoulder. Yeah, his admiration was noticeable, as his brothers caught wind of it within an instant, and to this day, Crosshair has never lived it down.

Yet, despite all his years of training, and the woes that he had already faced, he couldn't pluck up the courage to simply… walk over to you, and say hi.

Maker, no. An elite Trooper such as himself doesn't have a lick of courage when it comes to intimacy. Or rather, he didn't. Such a thing has grown over the months that Crosshair has spent returning to this establishment, either by himself, or with one of his brothers. Never the whole pack at once, though, as they'd definitely do something to embarrass him in front of you.

But tonight's the night. Crosshair has promised himself that. Even if (when) you reject him, it'll be worth it. He tried, and he can cross 'love' off his list of things to do, and move onto the next thing.

Although, Crosshair is hopeful. He's met your gaze one too many times, flirty glances from across the room, your girls giving you the odd nudge and wink whenever they notice that Crosshair is looking your way. The void in Crosshair's chest burns with admiration after each and every minor encounter, and the butterflies in your stomach dance and flutter just the same way. Such a pleasant feeling for two people who have never spoken a word to each other.

Your girls, like his brothers, are just as eager to get you two finally talking. This must be part of one big plan, as they inform you that they're going out for a smoke, leaving you to continue sitting at the bar, watching their drinks for them.

Just as luck would have it, Crosshair finishes the last of his bourbon, the liquid courage pumping through his veins. He rises to his feet before his brain can really process what's about to happen, and as he approaches the bar, all he does is rest his hands atop the counter as he waits to be served.

He's standing right beside you, yet you're facing forward. If only you'd tilt your head to the right, and look up a little, you'd finally make close contact with the man who's been clouding your thoughts every night. Finally, you do it, looking at him, only for your words to fall flat.

Crosshair flops worse than you do, almost letting out a squeak from his cracking voice. He's nervous, but he puts in an attempt to mask that daunting emotion. "Hey," Crosshair finally settles. No cheesy pickup line, no textbook flirting, just a simple greeting in hopes that you'll at least welcome him into a conversation.

"Hey," you greet in return, matching (or attempting to match) his content demeanour. Crosshair practically shivers at your voice, smoother than any velvet that he's ever felt. And now that he's up-close, he can already feel himself getting lost within your eyes, warm pools welcoming him in, a sight that he wishes to wake up to every morning.

'Get a grip!' Crosshair reminds himself, and plays his second card. "Would you care for a drink?" he offers. It's a little stereotypical, but it makes his intentions clear.

"Only if you let me buy the next round."

Ah! Your tone, the soft sprinkle of sass. Such wit and charm, and you've only said ten words. Crosshair prays that he's met his match, someone just as dry and cynical as himself.

"It's a deal, Miss…?" Crosshair's words trail off, but his question is quickly answered as you give him your name. He nods, repeating it with grace, and then gives his own. "I'm Crosshair."

"That would explain the tattoo," you point out. Crosshair often forgets about it, the stick and poke tattoo right across his face. He wonders if you like it.

"It's my area of speciality," Crosshair explains with a light shrug. "I'm a sharpshooter for the Republic."

"A clone?" you question, and Crosshair has to bite back at hissing at the word. Ugh, don't remind him!

"To some degree," he shrugs once more, then focuses his attention to giving the bartender his order, swiftly followed up by yours.

Attempting to relax, Crosshair perches himself on the stool besides you. "And what about you?" he questions, making light conversation. You tell him your job, as dull as it can be, "but it pays the bills," you explain.

"Mhm, I know how you feel," he hums. Crosshair's eyes wander across your body, not in a perverted way, but out of sheer curiosity. "You always dress well," he finds himself complimenting without a single thought, throwing both of you off.

"Thank you," you reply with a smile. "I can say the same about you. You can't go wrong with a button-up shirt and smart pants."

Crosshair catches himself smiling. "Thanks," he responds, and for once, not with a hiss.

"You're not with your friends tonight," you point out, vaguely gesturing to the empty booth where his rowdy bunch tend to rest.

"My brothers," Crosshair corrects you. "They can be a bit… much sometimes. I enjoy coming here to get a break from them," Crosshair explains, letting his eyes roll in annoyance at those that he secretly loves.

"Is that the only reason why you come here?" you ask with a wink, causing the tips of Crosshair's ears to turn red, and the sea in his stomach to unravel into a thunderous storm. May the Maker help him, because he's starting to realise just how uneducated he is when it comes to feelings.

"You know damn-well that's not the only reason," Crosshair replies with a chuckle. "I simply adore the decor," he follows up, attempting to bring some humour to the conversation. Internally, he's cringing at his poor attempt, yet it's enough to let you laugh.

"Me too," you laugh. "There's nothing that I love more than old furniture that is soaked with alcohol!"

Crosshair laughs along with you, but with every chuckle, his stomach turns deeper with unease. Maker, he's finally here, speaking to you, and who would have thought that you'd be perfect in every way?

Then again, things are far too early for Crosshair to truly know what you're like. Hopefully, if you allow him, he'll discover who you really are within time.

Your drink being placed on the bar top catches your eye, and you don't hesitate to bring it up to your lips. "Thank you again for the drink," you comment after taking a sip.

"It's no problem," Crosshair replies with a soft shrug, helping himself to his glass of bourbon.

"Why don't we try a different bar for my round?" you suggest, which throws Crosshair off guard. This is swiftly becoming an impulsive date, not that Crosshair minds. Then again, does he? He hasn't got a clue what he's doing, but seeing as you're initiating things, he must be doing a decent job. (For now.)

"I'd like that," Crosshair agrees, being careful to use like and not love. Can't be too eager!

The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor draws your eyes away from the Sniper, peering over your shoulder to see that your girls have finally returned. They're nattering away as they approach you, not paying any mind, only they stop in their tracks, mouths agape, when they finally look in your direction.

Never would they have guessed that they'd be met by this sight - their friend, who they left to sit alone whilst they went outside for a smoke, is finally sitting next to that reclusive man who she gets giddy just from the sight of.

"Girls," you call out to them. With a hand raised, you gesture to your new-found friend (date?)

"This is Crosshair."

[kamisama1kiss]

Im so sad I didn't get to see the haikyu movie life really bit me in the butt but i saw your requests are open and i was wondering if you could do asahi x reader where reader surprises asahi at a match, they didn't know if they'd ne able to make it, and he gets so shy and the boys tease him and then the couple share a cute moment after the match? Thank you!!

My man deserves all the love he can get!! 🫶 also, I apologise for the delays, but here he is in all his amazingness 😔 if something is a bother on the fanfic, please dm me to let me know!!^^

(Not proof read)

~~~

Asahi Azumane { lovingly surprise }

Not for a moment did he believe his eyes when seeing his lover walking up twords him after the match against Date Tech, knowing they had previously spoken about needing to study for upcoming exam this following week. His heart fluttered from joy of their never-ending support for him, yet a little concerned.

"Love, don't you have something to do?" Asking understand his breath, gazing up and down their figure with a light smile. Simply by instinct, his hand reached to hold yours, geeling at ease every time. Forgetting his surroundings the moment his eyes meet yours. "I was, but there is no way I could miss an important game for you."

Chucked rumbled through his chest, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully so. "The game went amazing. You did so well!" Praising him with a cheerful act, getting a rather rosie colour to be dusted on to his cheeks. "T.. Thank you, love." Before anymore words could be exchanged, another voice echoed loudly.

"Look whose personal cheerleader showed up!" Could be heard across the gym from Tanaka as he grinned with a laugh. His teasing and joking but not long Sugawara hit him on the back of his head, earning a scowl from the jokster. "Don't be so loud!" Saying just as loud as he was.

Nishinoya popped up around Tanaka before they both gave each other a known look and made kissing noises at the pair, getting a laugh from some of the others but also a few weird glances. You chuckled at the two playing around, but Asahi melted from embarrassment, wanting to dig a hole and never come out. "Guys! Stop doing that." Demanding which got them to stop, but they laughed about it not taking it seriously.

"You've got to be kidding me." Murmuring under his breath, shaking his head before his gaze fell back to you. He leaned down for a quick peck on the forehead before dragging you to leave the gymnasium, away from his teammates, that is.

Stending outside in the hallway holding both your hands, enjoying the time alone. "Im sorry about them." Trying to laugh off the embarrassment now engraved into his soul. "It's okay. They're just playing around." Reassuring him with a glimmer in your eyes that you were truly mostly unbotherd by the interaction and joking banter.

"Still.." Shaking his head, within moments later his hands found themselves on your waist along with your arms around his neck, standing with more intimacy lingering. "Not funny." Shaking his head in disapproval voice quieter with you in his embrace. "A little." You laughing a little got the blush on his face more evident. Leaning up for a peck on his lips.

Getting interrupted again by the one and only "You guys took it more seriously than I expected." Laughed tanaka being hit again by Sugawara, who walked past him with a chuckle. "Let them have fun. They're just kids."

Asahi whined, ducking to hide his face into the crook of your neck meanwhilest you only chuckled alone with warmth spreading out on your own face. The show was comedic to witness at most.

•••

It might not be exactly the request, but I hope it was close enough to what you had thought of! I hope everyone enjoyed reading this!!♡

[gayferrari]

hello!! i love your blog <3 i do have to say that i wasn't a charlos fan (?) but now thanks to you i'm obsessed!! i was wondering if there's like lore or key moments that feel like basic information to know

thank you!!!! I'm happy u enjoy it here❤️ I do have to say EYE wasn't a charlos fan either when I started this blog. I wasn't planning on it. I can't remember when it started but it was in between them beefing in China and them beefing in Spain. Something about how they keep finding their way back to each other showing genuine warmth and mad sexual tension but also they aren't really friends and "when my helmet is on I have hated him and he's hated me" or whatever Charles said. Absolutely unhinged (positive).

There's a lot of genuinely cute charlos lore from earlier days (2021 / first half of 2022) that I WILL revisit one day. However if I had to make a top 5 of my personal favourite bits... they're all post-Silverstone 22 and they all have the common theme of "wow I can't believe they still look at each other like they need a room after THAT."

I think it really drives home the weird sexually charged push-pull goofy vibe of their relationship the rest of the time

5. Singapore 2023. That was a sexy Carlos moment first and foremost, obviously but the reason I'm counting it as a charlos moment specifically is that Charles's driving coach recently came out and said what we were all thinking: that watching his teammate have a flawless weekend from start to end while he couldn't quite catch up motivated Charles enormously to Never Let That Happen again(*) and metaphorically lit a fire under his ass and he's now having the best season of his life. Thinking about this seminal post by @/steviethenarwhal about how Charles and Carlos are constantly used as a benchmark for each other (among other things, it's a great post) and also thinking about how massively competitive they are in everything they do. Singapore 2023 is a charlos moment. to me.

(*) it just happened again in Mexico. I hope this lits another fire under Charles's ass for 2025 reasons

4. China 2024. The time Charles's manager said they had made up with a big kiss. They had a hissy on-track scrap during a sprint, which was already kinda sexy if you're into that (as a divorce enjoyer. I am) and then Charles's manager had to go and said they'd made up with a kiss. They're never escaping the toxic couple coded allegations.

3. Interlagos 2022. PLEASE CONSIDER THE CHAMPIONSHIP. This is a fundamental charlos moment to me because it encapsulates so much about 22... Charles going from triumphant to struggling at wdc p3 in a season that was full of blunders, while Carlos also got his first win and had some amazing drives that season but they were overshadowed by the dramatic irony of Charles's failed championship bid. Anyway, Brazil: Charles in P4 during a race where RBR are struggling, with Max already crowned champion, this could be his chance to make up points on Checo who was currently wdc p2. Except Carlos is ahead of him and heading for a podium. Charles asks for a swap on radio, a bit whiny, a bit shameless. Every point counts. He said: give me my teammate's podium 🥺 Charles who historically has really been a good boy when it comes to complying with team orders even when he had to grit his teeth and bear it, now asks for this one thing. Except it's a pretty outrageous request, a gifted podium 😳 He doesn't get it but god I love that he asked. If u squint this is kinda representative of charlos's whole dynamic at Ferrari that's like “guy married into his wife's family” (Charles is the wife). This race lives in my head rent-free.

2. This mid-January 2024 pictures of them driving to Maranello together.

This picture is SO important to me because of the context. It's mid January. Charles is about to announce his contract renewal. He knows Ferrari are talking to Lewis. Carlos knows his contract renewal has stalled. He might already know it's not happening. In all of this: they are still driving to the factory together. They are STILL. Driving to the factory. TOGETHER. If this doesn't scream I could throttle you sometimes but I can't give you up. I don't know what does it.

(whose pov is this from? either)

1. MONZA 2023. CHARLES BEEFING WITH CARLOS'S MUM VIA TWITTER LIKES. CARLOS POLE. CHARLOS ON TRACK BATTLE 😳 and they looked SO HOT that whole weekend.

[magpie-come-east]

Also Hornsent grandam for the ask meme because she’s cute and deserves more love

favorite thing about them

Frankly I love everything about her. I love her design. I love her dialogue. I love that she is initially hostile but softens up as the story progresses. I love, even then, she never actually trusts the player wholly (she thinks you are a Sculpted Keeper, that's why she loosens up). Despite her sharp tongue and stinging condemnation, she shows over and over that there is a loving old grandma buried beneath the ash laid during the war. She's old. She's been watching her friends and family die all her life. She's watched her way of life slowly go extinct. But she faces the player with dignity. She makes soup with love. She tells the player to take a nap. She tells you to beat Messmer's ass.

least favorite thing about them

This is a petty detail, but it kinda bugs me that she says 'by the look of thee, another of Messmer's peons, methinks' about the player. Then later when the player wears the Divine Beast Dancing Lion mask, she mistakes them for a Sculpted Keeper because of their smell. I believe her horns made her blind, hence her recognition by scent later. But at the beginning they make it seem like she is still sighted. It feels like a minor oversight, but it bothered me haha.

But Gramma is perfect otherwise!

favorite line

"For what reason dost thou falter, villain? Enact thy sordid work with fullest pride. Else tuck away thy tail and leave for good. Loathsome issue of the rotten strumpet."

These lines are just so badass. She is an old woman 'looking' her would-be assassin in the eye and saying 'Do it, coward. You won't.' With a couple of lines we can see what a strong and proud woman she is. She fully expects to die, not understanding a Tarnished is not an agent of Messmer. But she refuses to be humiliated or cowed.

"I cannot presume thou didst not suffer... Please, I ask thee, allow thyself some rest. None of the tower would dare interfere. And if one should, I'll see to them myself!"

I also love this one. Once she lets her guard down she really is just a grandma. She is glad that Messmer is dead. But more than that, she is concerned about you. It's genuinely sweet.

brOTP

I think all the Horned Warriors love her. She bosses them around and they all crave her praise. Like I said, she's a Grandma.

I also feel like her and the Omen Twins would get along eventually. She'd bust their balls so hard, and they'd bite back just as hard.

OTP

I don't actively ship her with anyone. But since she grants the player the spirit of her own son to guard them, she probably had a partner at some point. Someone who likely isn't around anymore either ;;

nOTP

She wouldn't be caught DEAD with a non-hornsent lover lol

random headcanon

The Grandam is a respected leader in Belurat. Not because she was elected to or inherited any great position. But because she is one of the few elders of her clan that remembers the cultural practices that Messmer's armies are stomping out. Even the hornsent people call her Grandam because she's basically a grandmother to them all.

unpopular opinion

Hornsent Grandam isn't mean. If her 'rude' lines were given to Messmer to say ya'll (general) would be lapping it up. To be honest, I don't think most people dislike her, so this isn't really an 'unpopular' opinion. But all criticisms I see about her character are immensely bad faith. She's not 'fuckable' (ie, she's actually elderly) and a woman. So she must necessarily be dunked on to prop up the mediocre man that is her enemy.

song i associate with them

I dunno the Cult of the Lamb soundtrack.

Genius of Love - Tom Tom Club