#see you at noon… ⊱┊request denied!

[starboye]

starring: vinnie hacker x male reader

request: vinnie hacker and his thicc!femboy roommate have been living together a months now and vinnie is now just sitting on the couch playing video games until he looks up and sees his roommate come out his room walking into the kitchen with a tight crop top and a thong and vinnie can’t help but stare at how his ass jiggles so vinnie gets up and head to the kitchen and talks to the roommate about his choice of clothing and vinnie grabs his thong and snap it back onto him and roommate yelps… they start making out and vinnie his just rubbing his ass and it gets to the point where he stops kissing roommate just to look at his ass and how jiggly it is but after a while Vinnie picks up roommate and brings him to his room where he pulls the thong to the side and eats his ass and then after he fucks reader is the face down asss up position but makes him keep the thong on and after they finish vinnie gets up and plugs his ass with a butt plug and then looks in his drawer to see so many thongs and vinnie makes his roommate try on like 5 different pairs before fucking him again

warnings: smut, cursing, ass eating (reader receiving), thong, mentions of drinking, butt plug, unprotected sex

you couldn't deny that the night before was pretty crazy, you were out partying with your friends all night dancing and drinking till you were black out drunk and only getting home till it was around 4 in the morning with vinnie hearing you stumble your way to your bed from his room.

now it was around noon and you were just waking up from your short lived nap because vinnie was screaming at his game in the living room, he watched as you slowly made you way to the kitchen in your clothes from last night. infatuated by how your ass jiggled with every step you took in that thong and skirt with that skin tight crop top before you start pouring yourself some water.

vinnie decides to test his luck and rises from his spot with the intent of teasing you on his mind "y'know in the couple months we've been living together i've never seen you like this" vinnie chuckles at your drowsy and tired state as he leans against the counter "yeah maybe because im not usually this hungover" you say sipping the water before putting the glass in the sink.

"no i mean like this" he clarifies bringing back the material of the thong and letting it snap back onto your ass,you wince at the slight pain and lightly punch vinnie in the arm "hey what the fuck vin" you yelp rubbing your ass to help the pain go away. as you do so vinnie looks from your ass to your eyes back and forth making you catch his eyes with yours and you dont know whether you were still drunk or not but vinnie was looking unreal right now.

the way you could see his muscular build through his shirt and the way he looked at you and without a thought vinnie grabbed you by the waist and brought you into a heated kiss which quickly escalated into making out as vinnie groped at your ass, kneading it eagerly with his large hands. he stops kissing you for a moment just to jiggle your ass in his palms, you move to leaving some hickeys on his neck to make up for the loss of his lips on yours.

"wanna go to your room" vinnie asks lightly kissing your ear "sure" you pant from all the kissing, vinnie lifts you up by your thighs and carries you to the room before dropping you on your bed "you know i haven't had any breakfast yet" vinnie says bringing off his shirt "then i have something nice and juicy you could eat" you say arching your back to accentuate your ass to him.

"oh ill definitely have to have a taste" vinnie smirks glaring down at you as pulls your thong to the side and he lowers his face in between your legs and begins eating you out, his tongue lapping at your hole and nipping at the inside of your ass "fuck" you shakily moan dropping your head "yeah that feel good" vinnie asks slapping your ass.

"i cant wait anymore- ngh... put it in" you moan into the bed "you sure you're ready for that" vinnie asks with a raised eyebrow and a smug look as he licked the drool from his beautiful lips "mhm" you nod wanting his dick to fill you, he leans up and pulls off his joggers and lets his hard dick falls onto your ass. giving your ass a few smacks with his dick as his finger massaged your hole slowly before he aligned himself up with you.

you looked back at him, the way he was above you, mouth messy with saliva and drool from eating you out and his muscular build contorting and flexing as he pushed into you slowly, his thick tip stretching out your hole enough to get the rest of his dick in, you let out a breathy moan into the bed.

you felt so full of him that it almost made you cum but you held back, vinnie gave you a few seconds to adjust to his big size before he was thrusting into you with hard plaps punctuating his size even more, your hard on throbbed against the fabric of the thong that vin wouldn't let you take off, he held the thin string to the side as he admired your hole taking his full length with no push back or resistance.

"so who fucked you last night" vinnie leans down over you, his arms caging your head in to keep himself up "why, you jealous or somethin" you choke out because of vinnies rough thrust "big talk coming from the guy currently getting his ass pounded" vinnie chuckles moving so hair from your sweaty forehead.

"m'close" you mutter breathlessly "already lightweight" he laughs making you hide your face in the blankets from embarrassment "oh dont be like that" he says slowing his thrusts to get a response but you leave your face in the blankets "fineee" he grumbles gripping your hips before he starts pounding your ass full force, you messily moan and whimper out before you cum in the thong.

staining it with your cum "yeah that felt good right" vinnie asks not slowing his thrusts to reach his high, earning a small whine out of you before he's flooding your hole with his load, he watches as some of it leaks out over his cock. swiftly pulling out and finding a random butt plug in your nightstand to put in you and hold his warm cum in you.

he sits behind your for a while, both of you catching your breath, another thong soon catches his eye and he gets up to look through your drawer and sees a bunch of other thongs hidden away "and what do we have here" he taunts pulling the slutty underwear out and holding them up, your eyes widen in shock at seeing them and you jump up from the bed to grab them but vinnie holds them out of your reach.

"how about we have a little modeling show" he says with a sinister look in his eyes, you oblige and after a while come back into the room with a new pretty thong on and model it for vinnie as he lays naked in your bed, his dick jumping against his tummy as you model this one for him "i think we have a winner" he says pulling you onto the bed for another fuck session.

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft

[chukys-mouthguard]

What if?

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3,229 words

Featuring: matt rempe x female reader

Warnings: drunk guy being an asshole at the bar, aggressive/protective Matt

Note: okay, this is the first thing I’ve written in years, please be kind 😅 I just got a thing for this man now idk…feel free to send in some requests or let me know if you want more to this story? Not sure if it will be a one off or a little series

“Okay, how do I look?” You walk down the hall of your apartment, stopping to pose for Matt so he can give you his stamp of approval. He eyes you up and down, as if he is going to deliver some harsh critique. Your outfit is nothing crazy; jeans, a gray long sleeved bodysuit, black heeled boots, and a small cross body bag. With the New York City weather still chilly out, you figured it would keep you warm along with the alcohol you’d be consuming.

“Beautiful as always. But let’s try and keep the collecting of guys' phone numbers to a minimum tonight huh?” You laughed as you playfully smacked Matt’s arm. Making your way to the fridge to grab your High Noon you’d started sipping on before getting dressed. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous Matthew Rempe.” He shot you a cocky smirk as he leaned on the kitchen island next to you. “Me? Jealous? Never. Because I’m the one in your apartment and not them.” You rolled your eyes as you swallowed down the last bit of seltzer before unplugging your phone from the charger nearby. “Okay Mr. Chauffeur, let’s hit the road.”

You loved having Matt in NYC playing with the Rangers. The two of you had been best friends since you were teenagers, though you’d lost touch a bit once you moved to New York. Matt’s stint in Hartford allowed the chance to slowly reconnect, but having him now with the Rangers was even better. The two of you often spent nights at each other's apartments, going out to dinner, and of course you attended every home game you could to see Matt play.

You’d always had a soft spot for Matt. Sure he was a bit intimidating being practically 7 feet tall, his knuckles cut up or bruised half the time, and a black eye never seeming to catch you off guard anymore. But you’d gotten close enough to see the side of him most people don’t experience. Though you never imagined your relationship being anything more than what it was. Friends, and nothing more than that. But you couldn’t deny the way you had paid attention to how he’d grown into a man. He had outgrown his awkward phase, and you now looked at him and saw him as handsome, not cute or adorable like he was when you were growing up.

You constantly find yourself thinking, what if you weren’t just imagining things? When he spends the night and walks into your room wearing just a towel after a shower. The way he hugs you and lingers longer than just a friend would. The way he takes care of you when you’re drunk. Or nights like tonight, where he’s willing to stay up late to be your designated driver when he’s got an early morning skate and a big game tomorrow night.

Just one day, one day you’d love to kiss him and see what happens. Or flirt a little extra and see if he takes the bait. But you also don’t want to lose your best friend in the process, or be turned down and embarrassed for thinking he’d ever feel that way about you.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Matt asks as he puts a hand on the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder, backing out of his parking space. It’s such a cliche action, but boy does he look good doing it, and your heart certainly skipped a beat.

“The typical routine. Start at Tucker’s. Then move on to 1989. Then finish-“ “At Coop’s?” Matt smirked as he looked out at the road. One hand on the wheel with the other resting on his thigh. He was literally in jeans and a hoodie yet somehow he looked just as good as he does in a suit on game day. “Either that means I go out too much, or you’re finally starting to pay attention when I tell you things.” “Definitely not paying attention, it’s you going out too much.” He laughed as you playfully punched his arm, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you were a few minutes away.

“So Cooper’s closes at 2:30, but I honestly don’t think I’ll last that long. Especially because someone has a big game tomorrow! And I wanna be well rested. So let’s plan for like 12:30/1? Is that okay?” You looked at Matt a bit apologetic, knowing he’d have to be up early for morning skate. But he was always adamant about driving you, no matter what time it was.

“Of course, you know I’ll be here no matter the time. I’ll plan to be at Coop’s around 12:45. I’ll come in to get you too, it’s gonna be cold and dark out. I don’t want you walking to find me.” You put a hand to his cheek as you make a joking pouty expression. “Aww, such a gentleman Matty.” He smiled at your touch, almost leaning into your hand as he looked back at you, “Anything for you. Now go on, I know the girls are waiting. Text me if you need anything, and I mean anything y/n. I’m not that far of a drive.” You let out a sigh as you undid your seatbelt, “Honestly Matt, nothing to worry about, I’ll be fine.” You blew him an air kiss as you exited the car, heading into the first bar of the night. Matt sat and watched you show your ID to the man at the door, waiting until he saw you get inside safely to drive away.

As promised, Matt arrived at Cooper's around 12:45. He was thankful that you and your friends chose to end your nights at a bar that wasn’t too crazy, but also not too crowded that he might be recognized. Just to be safe he threw on a hat to shield his face as much as he could, though the bar was so dark he doubted anyone would be able to make out his face in the crowd.

He handed his ID to the bouncer before making his way inside. He texted you a simple “I’m here”, you would know his typical meeting place and where to go. You were in the restroom when Matt texted, quickly replying “bathroom, be right out” before you sighed as you stared blankly at the wall. The line in the girls restroom always 100 times longer than it was for the guys.

Matt didn’t mind waiting, he checked some scores on his phone. Assuming that the line was long since girls love to use the buddy system when going to the bathroom. He scanned the crowd and enjoyed people watching, nodding his head and smiling softly as your friends gave him a wave from across the bar. He checked the time again, before glancing over towards the hallway to find you pushing past a crowd of girls to exit the restrooms. He chuckled to himself as he saw the frustration on your face, knowing you probably waited 20 minutes just to pee. He started to walk towards you but fell back as he noticed a guy stop you in your tracks.

“Can I help you?” You looked at the man a bit confused, you’d recognized him from the crowd of people, but hadn’t interacted with him much. He was out with a group of guys for someone’s birthday. You only knew that because they mentioned it to you and your friends at least 30 times. Definitely trying to help the birthday boy get laid. “I noticed you’d left your friends, I thought maybe my shot at getting to buy you a drink was gone.” You chuckled to yourself, why does this have to happen in front of Matthew?

“Oh, yeah, I’m actually on my way out. So, maybe another time. Sorry.” You try to excuse yourself but he moves with you, cutting you off. “Oh come on, one more drink isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Or if you want we could go somewhere else, just the two of us and get a drink.” He had a cocky grin on his face as you looked at him in disgust. He was clearly drunk, and wasn’t keen on taking no for an answer. You looked at Matt standing just a few feet away, a concerned look on his face as he wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Look, I’m not interested, okay?” He scoffed as he seemed to be a bit insulted by your comment. “Not interested, you and your friends were dancing right up against our group all night. I saw the way you were eyeing all of us guys, I’d say you were interested sweet heart.” You gagged at the smell of alcohol on his breath as he got closer to you. “Yeah news flash buddy, it’s a small fucking bar. My option was dancing right next to people or on the bar.”

As you tried walking past him to get to Matt, you felt a tight grip on your wrist pull you back, “That sounds hot, can you put on a show just for me?” His hands attempted to grab more than just your wrists but before you could react Matt was already stepping in, pulling the guy away from you and pinning him to the wall by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her like that.”

You were a bit taken aback at the way Matt stepped in. Sure he’d protected you from dumb drunk guys before, but never like this. His jaw clenched as his grip tightened on the collar of the man’s shirt. “And what the fuck are you gonna do about it huh? What are you her little brother or something? Ain’t no way you’re banging a bitch like that.” Matt’s grip tightened on his collar as he pushed him harder into the wall, “what did you just call her?!” His voice louder, drawing a bit of attention, thankfully none yet from the bouncer.

“A bitch, and what are you gonna do about it?” The drunk dumbass laughed in Matt’s face and you knew this wouldn’t end well.

Before you could step in, Matt’s fist connected with the guy's jaw, causing him to stumble to the floor. Before pulling himself together and running off to the restroom.

“Fuck!”

Matt shook his hand as he winced, immediately realizing he fucked up but his anger got the best of him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. Thank god no one seemed to really notice the altercation that just took place.

The walk to the car was quiet as Matt was still fuming, you simply climbed into the passenger in silence. He gripped the steering wheel tight with his good hand as he peeled out of the parking lot. You sat next to him, studying his face to see when it might be a good time to say something. Blue and purple started to appear across the knuckles on the hand that threw the punch as he let out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

You let out a soft laugh as you rested a hand on his thigh, softly holding his bruised hand, careful not to hurt him. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong? You stepped in as I would’ve hoped you would the second that guy put his hands on me. Don’t be sorry for that!” He seemed to relax at your touch, so you kept your hand on his, slowly brushing your thumb over his skin to attempt to calm him down.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, the two of you heading back to Matt’s apartment since he had to be up early for practice. You kept your eyes on him, studying the look on his face, wishing you were in his head to know what the heck he was thinking. He took your hand in his as you two walked through the quiet parking garage, then headed up the elevator.

You knew your way around his place, first going to his room to grab an oversized t-shirt to throw on before heading to the bathroom to take off your makeup. Matt was sweet enough to go out and buy you your own toiletries to keep at his place. Including your makeup remover and even your 4 step skincare routine.

Matt came to join you in the bathroom as you brushed your teeth. He smiled at the sight of you as he leaned against the wall: your hair in a messy bun, his oversized Seattle Thunderbirds t shirt covering you up enough while still giving him a good view of your legs. “What?” You chuckled as you tried not to choke on the tooth paste threatening to fall from your lips. He just shook his head, “Just glad nothing bad happened to you tonight. I’m glad I was there.” He took your hand, his fingers fiddling with yours, “I just kept thinking what if i wasn’t there, I couldn’t handle it if anything would’ve happened.”

You looked at him in the mirror, relief and exhaustion covered his face. “I’m really glad you were there too, but I really hope we don’t end up with a possible scandal on our hands.” You started laughing as you exited the bathroom, Matthew following suit. “New York Rangers rookie Matthew Rempe gets in a bar fight over a girl.” You spoke in a sarcastic newscaster voice as you made your way to the freezer, grabbing a bag of frozen peas to tend to Matt’s fist bearing the proof of his heroic actions at the bar.

Matt chuckled along with you before wincing at the feeling of the cold bag on his hand, “If it happens, so be it, I was ready to knock that son of a bitch out after what he said to you.” You shot him a glare, “Matthew Rempe. Absolutely not, I am not worth you getting in trouble with the team because of a dumb bar fight.” He walked over to you, now the one shooting you a glare. His arms rested on either side of your waist as he gripped the edge of the counter. “Y/n, yes you fucking are.” You shot him a look as he swiftly picked you up and sat you on the island in front of him. A cocky grin coming across his face at how caught off guard you were, gripping his biceps tight as his hands now moved to rest on your thighs. “I’d fight 20 guys at the bar if they put their hands on you and said shit like that guy tonight.” His tone now more serious, his smirk fading as you two stared at one another for what seemed like an hour. The voice in your head screaming at you, this is your what if moment. Take it or leave it, but it may never come again. What if he’s trying to confess his feelings, what if he’s trying to make a move but he’s too scared. What if you just beat him to the punch. What if-

Before your brain could even rationalize a thought or an action, you felt Matt’s lips crash into yours. His hands cupping your face as yours snaked up his neck to grab a handful of his hair. The kiss like fireworks and a weight being lifted off your shoulders all at once. He began to smile into the kiss, before pulling away with a slight laugh.

“Oh yeah, that’s exactly what every girl wants. The guys she’s been dreaming of kissing to pull away laughing!” You rolled your eyes and frowned at him as a look of shock washed over his face. “Been dreaming of kissing huh??? I knew it!” You immediately turned red, covering your face with your hands, though Matt found it extremely cute.

His hands gripping your thighs before lifting you off the counter, “It’s okay, i get it. I’m sure there’s lots of girls out there who dream of kissing me.” “Matt! Shut up!” You laughed as he carried you down the hall into his room, tossing you on the bed while he finally changed out of his jeans and sweatshirt. “Hey, listen…if you’re interested, maybe we could work something out so that you can be the only girl who gets to kiss me from now on. How does that sound?”

You barely heard him, too busy staring as he stood in just his underwear in front of you. Your eyes tracing every detail of him before his laugh interrupted your thoughts. “Damn, one kiss and all of sudden you’re just head over heels huh?” You pull a pillow over your face out of embarrassment as you feel the bed sink beneath his weight. Matthew now hovering above you as he pulls the pillow away from your face.

He brushed some hair from your face as your fingers play with his chain hanging from his neck, “you really want to kiss me and only me from now on?” You blushed as he shook his head laughing at you, “of course you goof! That’s all I’ve wanted for like the last 5 years, probably even longer!” You felt yourself trying to fight a smile, though you were sure your cheeks were bright red, letting Matt know you liked his response.

He laid next to you as you continued to play with his chain, now resting on his chest. His thumb tracing circles on your thigh as you smiled like a dork to yourself, your heart bursting with excitement that all your what ifs had come true.

“So if I agree to this-“ you say up, trying to pull a serious face as you looked down at him. His hands still glued to your thighs, as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you now. “Do I get a cute custom Rempe jean jacket or something to wear to your games? Like I wanna be decked out and I want people to know that I'm the only girl you’re kissing from now on.” Matt rolled his eyes and laughed at your change of tone, as you babbled on and on about your ‘conditions’ should you agree to this. But he loved the thought of you in a Rempe jacket at his games, getting to see afterwards and kiss you like crazy after a big win, to have you be his biggest fan cheering him on every night. Even though you already were, now it would be more special.

“Listen.”

Matt cut you off as he pulled you into his lap, his hand pulling your face to his as he kissed you. This time the kiss was soft, as he took his time to really take in the feeling of finally getting to kiss you and be this close to you. “If you be my girlfriend, I’ll get you whatever jacket you want, I’ll get you the best seats at the Garden for my games, you name it. Just make me the happiest guy ever and be my girlfriend!” You laughed at how he begged like a little kid who couldn’t contain their excitement.

“Yes-“ you peppered his face with a hundred kisses, “Matthew Rempe, I would absolutely love to be your girlfriend.”

[idesofrevolution]

Cult of Personality

The blistering New Mexico heat bared down on Douglas' '99 Chevrolet Cavalier. The small blue coupe meandered up I-25, enroute from Las Cruces to Santa Fe. The old man quietly sighed to himself, fruitlessly trying to think of a better pitch to sell his Solar Panels to the rich folks up in Albuquerque. Las Cruces ended up being a bust, just as much as Tucson: the damn things were just too expensive up front. Not that the company gave a single damn, quotas are quotas. Thus, still empty handed, he passed the exit sign for Socorro- still an hour until he'd reach his destination.

As he passed the exit, he noticed a bright red glint a bit further up the road. Douglas adjusted his glasses, squinting his eyes to see. He slowed down on the empty highway as the sight became clearer. It was a car. In fact, it was a bright red '67 Mustang; it's owner leaned on the hood as black smoke bellowed from the tailpipe. Douglas looked down at his watch, knowing fully well that he needed to be in Albuquerque before sundown. Though, as he approached the broken down muscle car, the sweltering heat of the Chihuahuan Desert at high noon would be a killer. The young man leaning on the car turned his head, not even sweating a single drop, and stared blankfaced at Douglas as he pulled up.

Douglas hit the brakes, stopping his car right alongside the young man. He strode up to the old man's car, leaning in and resting his elbows onto window ledge. His stoic expression slowly melted into a wide grin, licking his lips before he spoke.

"You headed toward Albuquerque?" A thick Texan accent flowed from the man's lips, his dark brown eyes nearly black even in the blinding light of the sun. Douglas felt an odd twinge of nervousness as the grinning young man casually smiled; it felt off. Behind that handsome visage, something was brewing within.

"I'm headed to Santa Fe, but I can call you a mechanic from Socorro, he'd be here in a jiffy!" The young man's smile didn't fade, he simply shook his head 'no.'

"Phone's got no service out here, brother. I sure would appreciate a ride. It's just a mile or so up the road." He turned, pointing down the seemingly endless highway. Before Douglas could deny the young man his request, the hitchhiker leaned in closely. It may have been the heat, or it may have been his exhaustion, but for no more than two seconds, he thought he'd heard whispers blowing in the wind. Douglas said nothing, and the young man's grin grew wider. "Thank you, brother. I'll hop in the back."

As he strode back to his car, grabbing a duffel bag from the trunk of his car, Douglas wanted to slam on the gas and blitz out of there. An air of menace surrounded this man, despite his magnetic charisma; yet his foot did not press down on the pedal. The passenger side door opened, as the man hopped into the back seat of his coupe. Too late. The door slammed by itself, evidently thanks to a gust of wind he neither felt nor heard. He pulled the car out of park, and off the duo went. He glanced into his rearview mirror, taking in the sight of his hitchhiker.

He nearly took up the entire backseat. The duffel bag sat next to him, his muscular arms tightly holding it against his side. He was easily above six feet tall, likely even more than six and a half. He threw his arms behind his head, kicking his large feet onto Douglas' armrest. Outwardly, he seemed like just another good looking guy- one he'd likely see on his granddaughter's TikTok. But his guard remained on high alert.

"Just keep driving, brother. I'll tell ya when to turn off." His velvety voice was disarming, a carefree confidence just wafted from him alongside the strange heat which seemed to emanate from his muscular body. For about an hour, the two sat in silence as they rocketed down the highway. Each glance he shot into his mirror, Douglas would see the man smirking- his gaze never meeting the old man's. Thus, as the road veered to the left in the distance, their silence was broken. "Don't turn, just keep going straight." He carried a tone of authority in his voice, a natural command that would be highly unlikely to be ignored.

"There isn't a road straight ahead..." The hitchhiker finally stared into the mirror, his eyes locked on Douglas' reflection.

"Go straight."

As if of their own accord, the old man's hands kept steadfast on their trajectory. As the road began to curve, the Cavalier shot in the commanded direction, straight into the sands of the desert. They swerved, avoiding large rocks and towering Saguaros, before the foothills of the mountains started to come into view. Through the mirage before them, Douglas could see what looked like a campsite ahead, just beyond the thicket of green brambles. A crowd of maybe 50-70 people had gathered in the bowels of the desert. For what purpose, Douglas did not yet know. But as he slowly began his approach, the entire crowd had turned their eyes toward the car. Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd split in two; leaving a clear straight shot toward a makeshift platform right at the base of the mountain.

"Thank you for the lift, brother. Do me a favor, will ya? Stick around. I have a feeling you'd love what we have going on today." Again, his timbre was less of a request- and far more of a demand. The tone was never raised, nor was it ever aggressive. However, he felt as if one would be wise to heed his instructions. Douglas simply nodded, turning the car off, and opening the door.

The crowd was filled with a diverse cast of people, all of which were fit, energetic, and young. Not a single soul had seen a day over 30, no less than 21. They stared with vacant expressions in silence until the hitchhiker exited the backseat, at which point they erupted in cheers and applause. Douglas watched with confusion and shock as the young man walked toward the platform, shaking hands, playfully punching shoulders, giving out high fives like condoms at a clinic. Who the hell had he picked up? Where the hell was he? As he hopped atop the wooden structure in one single leap, easily five feet off the ground, he shucked the grey tank top and tossed it into the crowd. A young woman caught it, tenderly holding it against her chest as the onlookers admired his chiseled build. Raising his arms, the crowd went silent.

"Brothers and Sisters, today is the day! Are you ready? Are you rearing? Tell me!" The crowd erupted, Douglas stared around the transfixed athletes, feeling entirely out of place- as if he wasn't meant to be there. "For one full year, you have trusted me to build your bodies into machines: daily training, nightly runs, some of y'all are out there doing some of the hardest workouts we have to offer. Look at you now!" More cheers. "When I told you that your bodies were temples, to treat them as such, each and every one of you took my words seriously. I said that each of you had the potential to become something incredible. You said, but Cameron, I can't ever get to where you're at! But guess what? You followed the regimen, you became part of our family, you became a part of something so much bigger than you even knew. And we are here today, your induction into our movement, the final hoo-rah!" Mimicking the leader, every single one of the parroting people began to chant hoo-rah, once... twice... thrice... like a warcry on the battlefield. Douglas turned, searching through the sea of people to find an escape route. Instead, he only saw five men of the same jacked physique of the leader handing out what looked to be bottles of water. Peering closely, the unlabeled bottles carried a milky white liquid.

"What sort of Jonestown shit is this..." The bottles were disperse quickly amongst the crowd, the cheery if not dim young men had seemingly finished in minutes as the leader droned on. Douglas took the opportunity to make his way back toward the car, only for a moment of dread to wash over him. It was gone. In it's place, a line of tire tracks came to an abrupt end, no vehicle in sight. The old man felt a hand on his shoulder, turning quickly to be face to face once again with 'Cameron' himself.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me, Douglas. I'm more than happy to reimburse you, you've saved the day." Whispers again started to rise around him, incoherently babbling a language far outside of his own knowledge. "Today, my friend, your journey begins." Douglas tried to pry his eyes away from Cameron to no avail. The deep brown eyes seemed to swallow any thought, any desire, any need. Cameron's pupils started to pulse, mimicking the old man's heartbeat, growing larger and larger, until the inky blackness had swallowed his entire iris & sclera. Cameron smirked as he watched the old man's posture fall forward, his shoulders drooping and his jaw hanging loosely. "Mmmmmmm. Good, fall deep, vessel. For your assistance today, your reward is to be one with me, just as all in my inner circle have done."

The black-eyed stud gently guided Douglas away from the crowd, who were busy downing the contents of their respective bottles just as moans and groans started ringing out from the poor fools. The five members of Cameron's inner circle followed suit, their eyes flooding black and mouths curling into devilish grins. The group soon arrived in a clearing of the thicket, circling around a pile of filthy clothes strewn across the dirt. Douglas was slowly guided to them, entirely unwavering in his stonefaced obedience.

"Well, my children. You continue to serve me well. I admit, this body must be hard to say no to. He is a joy to wear." The five goons chuckled menacingly, one or two of them groping at their bulges through their running shorts. "Today, as you all did before him, Douglas aided me in my time of need. On a momentous day as this, such acts must be rewarded. Today, you welcome your new brother." With a swipe of his hand, Douglas' corporate clothing dissolved into thin air, burnt ash flying into the desert wind. He stood there in the nude, the group watching in anticipation as Cameron simply pointed down to the pile of reeking clothes, and Douglas could do nothing but obey.

One by one the articles began to tremble, before sliding across the sand toward their soon-to-be owner. Cameron snickered, snapping his finger. A sweaty jockstrap quickly flew into the air, levitating for a moment before shooting toward the old man's groin. Like a liquid hitting a solid, the grimy fabric collided with Douglas, warping and wrapping around his legs and package until it had settled into it's new home. The brothers grinned, as they watched the old man's admittedly humble bulge swell rapidly. It expanded outward, his balls dropping like ten pound weights as they grew, and his cock elongated and widened until it peeked it's head out from the bottom of the sweat stained pouch. Douglas moaned as his ass swelled thick and bulbous, the formerly wrinkled and smooth skin sprouting dark brown hairs as his bush followed suit. Cameron grinned, strutting over to cup his hand over the musky horsecock and balls that had sprang from his jock.

Another snap of his fingers, and the shorts shot upward, wrapping around Douglas' legs, quickly inflating them with thick mass. His hamstrings widened, his quads becoming hard as iron while his calves tightened. The chicken legs he used to possess now were two massive slabs of hard meat. Cameron continued to grope and massage his prey's bulge, the fabric of the jockstrap growing sticky with his pre as he moaned. The five grunts slowly lowered their own shorts and jockstraps, releasing their sweaty dicks into their waiting palms.

"You humans are so... simple." *snap* The socks slithered like snakes across the ground, surrounding Douglas' toes and sliding around his heel and fastening around his ankle. "All it takes is slipping into some attractive male, and you'll be worshipping at my feet. As will you." The old man's feet cracked and stretched wide, his soles growing soft and sweaty as the stinking running shoes melted around his gigantic feet. The rubber and fabric contorted and stretched, the funk of a thousand runs in the desert heat wafting from within their confines as they reformed into a perfect fit. The group started to stroke their cocks, small droplets of black sludge seeping from their slits. Cameron grinned, sliding his hand into Douglas' jockstrap and wrapping it around his throbbing member. "You, however, will be a prince among men."

*snap* The pot belly which had plagued Douglas for 30 some odd years slowly receded, fading into obscurity as if it had never been there to begin with. His abs tightened, his pecs became lean, his waist slimmed quickly with powerful obliques and cum gutters pointing toward his hose. Whispers started to echo in the wind as the five cultists stroked their cocks, streams of black, tar-like slime coalescing into pools at their feet.

"You will be a father of my spawn, a carrier of my seed." Cameron continued to pump the massive dick, watching with malicious glee as his arms grew sinewy and lean, his hands large and wide, his fingers long and slender. "Today, our army is founded." The possessed stud placed his hand on the balding head of the former salesman, pushing him to his knees; his mind blank as his master's shorts slid down to his thighs, releasing a grotesque sight. Whatever his host's member used to be was long gone, now corrupted with demonic seed. It stood upright, intricate black symbols wrapping around the foot long shaft all the way to his foreskin. "Receive my blessing, mortal. Be one with me." The ripe rod inched forward, dripping thick globules of the black sludge onto Douglas' thighs as it pressed against his face. His mouth opened, and it was over.

In a single thrust, the monstrous cock pushed past his lips and deep into his throat as Cameron began to face fuck the old man. The pools of black sludge from his minions writhed toward him, engulfing his legs in their glistening form before slinking toward his tight hole. Cameron threw his head back in ecstasy, howling a thunderous and unnatural roar as his underling's seed seeped into Douglas' rear. The sounds of squelching, cracking, suction rang out as the roars began to grow louder. Each slap of his face against Cameron's bush reformed his aged face. New hairs sprouted on his scalp, a thick forest of black spreading across his head. His lips plumped as they slurped on the smelly cock, his skin tanning and all wrinkles disappearing. The last vestiges of the black sludge squeezed into his hole, and with a wicked, fiendish grin the possessed stud cursed out into the open desert air:

"WE... ARE... ONE!" 'Cameron' released his gift down into his new son's throats, a torrent of black seed rushing out of his length and into Douglas' transformed body. His veins started to flush dark, until an inky blackness had sprawled across his lean, taut figure. Whatever remained of Douglas sunk into a void of darkness, only to be encompassed by the viscous corruption. 'Cameron' grinned, his will quickly overwhelming the spirit of the old man before slipping his demonic essence within it. More and more of him flooded into the body, squeezing into the soul, until it was unclear where Douglas began and 'Cameron' ended. Dismounting his new creation, he watched with glee as the convulsions died down, and it's eyes opened, revealing an endless inky black as it grinned.

"Yes, my master, this vessel shall fit our needs quite nicely." As his eyes slowly started to return to their normal hazel, the corruptive sludge within his veins reformed, pushing upward through the capillaries and into the skin, now little more than tattoos to the naked eye. 'Cameron' grinned, another human ensnared into his dark consciousness, little more than a husk to house his essence.

'Dougie' smirked as he pulled up his fetid shorts, quickly masking his cock dripping the black sludge of his master and brothers as he threw his sweaty arms around his new family, walking toward their new army.

---

"Alright, Santa Fe! Are we ready to get fit?" The crowd erupted as Cameron stood before them, his arms raised on the roof of the building, grinning over the 200 new disciples he was prepared to imbue with his gift. Those who had been with him at Socorro stood silently amongst the unsuspecting enthusiasts, ready to 'assist' their 'ascension' should the need arise. Just beside the building, his sons had gathered behind the truck in a circle, chanting words beyond our most vivid imagination as they stroked eachother's musky cocks into the large vat of water. 'Dougie', now a favorite of Cameron, devilishly grinned as he felt the first torrent of his corruption spew into the clear water, the thick black sludge slithering about before dissolving into the liquid as if it were never there. Round after round, they shot their father's seed into water, until there was more of the seed than there was of the water.

"Alright, brothers. I think that should do it." His deep, bellowing voice brought each of his brothers attention on him as they put their cocks back into their shorts. "Hah, and not a minute too soon." The crowd of feckless initiates began to line up, in desperate need of hydration, of which 'Dougie' was more than happy to provide. He hopped up onto the bed of the truck, as his brothers ladled their refreshment into individual bottles. Snatching one, 'Dougie' snickered. "Who's thirsty?"

[moviecritc]

hii could you write something about lestappen x reader? maybe taking care of max because he is sick? thank you 💕

sick days ⋆ lestappen

pairing: lestappen x reader

summary: after going on a long run in the morning, max ends up sick, but he doesn't accept it

word count: 1.5K

a/n: ok im in love with this, if you guys have more lestappen requests do them!! bc i love writing em <3

english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes and poor storytelling.

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

Another day, Charles and you woke up feeling the absence of a body in your bed.

"Has he gone out for a run again?" you asked as you approached Charles's bare torso.

"I think so," he nodded, his voice sleepy. You leaned against Charles's chest to see the clock on the nightstand, eliciting a groan from one of your boyfriends.

"It's seven in the morning," you said, almost in a groan yourself.

You collapsed onto the bed, planting a kiss where your hand had rested before. You stretched out, and Charles slipped out of bed, putting on one of Max's Red Bull t-shirts. Before leaving the room, he kissed you on the forehead and then on your bare collarbone. You stayed in bed a little longer, dozing off while Charles prepared breakfast, as he did every morning. The winter break was your favorite time of the year. After being stressed all season with work, going back and forth, and spending weeks without seeing them, these months were the best gift.

Your days revolved around having breakfast together when Max returned from his run. Then, you would make love leisurely and shower together. If you felt like it, you would go shopping or play paddle tennis, then return home to cook together. The boys would then train in the sim or at the gym, and you would usually go for a walk with your friends or even train with them. Although when that happened, it often ended up in a long cardio session in bed. And to end the day, you would go out for dinner at some fancy place in Monaco and then drink and dance at a club.

That morning, Max took a little longer to arrive, but when he walked in, it seemed like a cold smoke followed him. It was mid-December, and it had been a cold winter in Monaco.

Max entered the kitchen and kissed Charles and then you. You noticed his outfit. "Aren't you cold, love?" You looked him up and down, with his short shorts and tank top clinging to his body from the cold sweat.

"Nah," he denied, brushing it off and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

You didn't think much of it until you went to open the window in your room and received a gust of cold air from outside. You were attentive to your boyfriend's behavior for the rest of the day, noticing how he had sneezed several times in the last hour or how, after the shower, he seemed even more tired than usual.

At noon, while Charles was preparing pasta for lunch, you went to Max, who was lying on the couch.

"How are you, love?" You sat next to him, intertwining your arm with his, and noticed - or rather heard - as Max sniffed his nose.

"Fine, why'd you ask?" Max furrowed his brow, feigning confusion.

"Oh, no reason," you shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "I just notice you seem tired."

Charles had an ear on the conversation, also noticing that Max was probably brewing something and hadn't mentioned it for some stereotypical nonsense he thought.

"No, no. Don't worry, schat," Max assured. "I'll go help you now."

He leaned in to kiss you, but at that moment, he started coughing heavily. You let out a sweet laugh and went over to Charles.

"Char, I think our Max is getting sick," you nodded, while Charles put an arm around your waist.

"It can't be!" Charles exclaimed, pretending to be surprised.

"No!" Max jumped in immediately, stood up, and practically ran towards them, swaying a little. "I'm not getting sick."

Max let out a heavy breath and leaned on the counter, catching his breath that he had lost in the four steps he had taken.

"I see," Charles commented, walking past him and giving him a gentle pat on the butt.

"Max, why don't you go lie on the couch? We'll take care of this," you suggested with a comforting smile.

Max rolled his eyes in a very exaggerated way and crossed his arms as you and Charles looked at each other and smiled knowingly.

"I'm going to the sim, I can see I'm not wanted here," he said, with a somewhat sad look.

When Max left, Charles and you looked at each other. "Is he mad?" you asked, leaning on Charles's shoulder and hugging him from behind while he cooked.

"Nah, he just thinks he's the strong one in the relationship," He gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

In all the time you had been together, you had never seen Max weak. You had seen Charles cry and complain countless times over any little thing. But Max? That man seemed like a piece of iron when it came to feelings. He hadn't even cried at the end of How To Train Your Dragon, and although to some extent the image of a strong guy and the pillar of the relationship was fine, you were dying to see his softer side.

Twenty minutes later, Charles had finished cooking the pasta, and you went to the room where the sim set was.

"Charles, come see this," you called. He came immediately, finding Max totally asleep in the chair, with the car crashed in the first curve of the Monaco Grand Prix.

"Do we wake him up?" Charles whispered, looking at him lovingly.

"Wait," You approached him carefully, taking a picture of him. "Okay, wake him up," you smiled.

Charles began to leave soft kisses on Max's cheek and lips, even lightly biting his earlobe. The sleeping man let out a loud gasp and practically jumped up from the chair.

"Hey, easy, easy," Charles said, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"How you doing, sleeping beauty?" you said.

"I wasn't sleeping,"

"Oh, sure not," Charles said, with a little smile. "Wanna come eat with us?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute," Max nodded, stifling a yawn.

Both Charles and you heard him blowing his nose for almost two minutes straight. Max appeared in the living room, trying to pretend he was fine, but his reddened nose gave him away.

He helped set the table. "What are we going to do this afternoon?" the blonde asked before blowing his nose.

Charles and you exchanged glances, knowing that if you didn't do anything, Max would keep insisting he was perfectly fine.

"I don't feel like going out today," you commented calmly.

"Yeah, me neither," Charles agreed.

Both saw the look of relief on Max's face. "Oh, okay. Well, nothing then," he pretended.

"We can watch a movie," you suggested, shrugging.

After lunch, you cuddled up on the couch, and you chose the movie. You noticed Max moving closer to you, resting his head on your shoulder, which was usually the other way around. Towards the end of the movie, you heard Max sniffling repeatedly, and you didn't even consider that they could be tears until you saw Max wiping his face.

You glanced at him. "Are you crying?"

"No…" Max muttered with a thin voice.

Charles looked at them. "You're crying!" he exclaimed, and quickly changed positions, with Max now in the middle.

"It's just… he found someone who loves him," he said between tears, pointing at the TV. "Like I love you guys."

Charles and you looked at each other with a pout, immediately showering him with kisses. You were watching Shrek.

"Wait, wait, I don't wanna get you sick," Max said, denying the kisses.

Charles backed off a bit in surprise. "Are you admitting you're sick?"

"Of course I'm sick, look at me,"

They chuckled a little, and you got up to get some cough syrup and ibuprofen for your boyfriend, finally. It barely took a minute, but when you returned, Max was lying on Charles's chest while he stroked his hair.

"Did he fall asleep again?" you whispered.

"I think so, come here," Charles stretched out his hand, and you wrinkled your nose a bit.

"I don't want to wake him up,"

Charles rolled his eyes. "Come here, mon ange," he repeated.

You stretched out on the couch, under Charles's arm and covering Max with a blanket. From where you were, you could see Max sleeping perfectly.

"It's so cute to see him like this," you whispered to Charles, while he gave you kisses on your jaw and ear.

"Isn't it?" Charles agreed. "And get ready for tomorrow because he's going to be clingier than ever."

"It's like he's been waiting for this moment all my life," you said, with a radiant smile.

Charles chuckled slightly, causing Max to move a bit, letting out a moan and falling back asleep immediately.

[itsthatmff]

How would opm saitama, genos, and garou react to having an monster female s/o but is very docile and kind and just wants to live a normal life and has a human disguise

This ones so cute o mah gad immediately had to do it

Opm guys with a Monster S/O

Included: Genos, Saitama, Garou

fem!reader

Requests are open !!

Genos

Very wary about you at first

The first time you two meet is around noon at the Ghost town of city Z when he returns from getting groceries for Saitama.

In an alleyway he hears a commotion and goes to check it out when he sees that there are two monsters getting into a fight.

Of course he immediately goes into combat mode thinking that you two could be a threat for the citizens.

But it’s when you save him from that other monster you were fighting with that he’s completely startled.

“So not all monsters are driven by malice…interesting..”

He feels a connection between the two of you and can relate very much as you two have had similar experiences before with not fitting in to society due to not being full humans.

is VERY intrigued and interested by you therefore he decides to stick by your side to analyze your art and nature for research purposes. Those hangout’s eventually turn into dates.

He likes you both in your human and monster form and encourages you to like every part about yourself too.

Will support you 100% in wanting to lead a normal life and fit in with the humans. Even though his knowledge about what humans his age do is very limited as well he tries to teach you what he knows.

“I have heard that it is quite popular around young people to visit crepe shops. Shall we try them?”

Honestly best bf to ever have. Will love you even if you’re a worm. (Doesn’t show it a lot though)

Saitama

I’m telling y’all this guy DOES NOT CARE wether you’re human or not.

He saved you in your human form once (some monsters attacked you because they could tell from your smell that you were a monster as well) and thought you were so attractive from the get-go.

He did have his suspicions as he could sense a different kind of aura from you but did not question it.

A week into dating it was that you came clear to him about your “true form”, already expecting that he’d immediately break up with you.

“Oh really? Yeah that’s calm.”

Doesn’t feel betrayed or alarmed because he’s known you for long enough to tell that you were a good person, monster or not.

He does ask you random questions sometimes though

“So like..do you eat human flesh? Monster flesh? No? Oh okay.”

“Is it true that you turn into your true form every full moon? You’re telling me only werewolves do that?? Geez I was just asking..”

Whenever you feel insecure he reassures you and comforts you.

Always takes you out to go grocery shopping with him because he can tell that you enjoy doing regular things such as these.

Gets judged big time by Genos for dating you but he doesn’t care.

Garou

Thought of you as his rival/opponent for the longest time.

Whenever he’d see you around in your human form he could sense this aura coming from you assuming that you were a strong fighter when not knowing that you simply were a monster.

He’d bother you every time and ask you for a fight and every time you’d have to kindly decline saying that you had no idea how to fight.

“Don’t lie to me I can sense that you’re powerful. One fight won’t hurt ya cmon..”

Around the 6th time you came across him you decided to just come straight with the truth.

“So you’re telling me..you’re a monster..but ya dont fight?”

Is hella confused but just rolls with it. He decides to stick by your side just for the sake of it. And he couldn’t deny that you were absolutely gorgeous at that.

Would ask you out in the most blunt and straightforward way.

You’d both be talking about how it was so hard for you to find any love interests because most of the human guys would get scared if they were to find out you’re a monster

Which he would straight up answer with “why dont you date me then?”

Very overprotective boyfriend. He prefers you in your monster form actually and encourages you to just be yourself but the moment ANYONE dares to give you a wrong look he’ll beat them to a pulp

Even when you’re in your human form he just assumes that people might stare at you because they know you’re a monster so he cusses at them (he isn’t the smartest guy out there)

Doesn’t really know what personal space is so he will be all up in your business as a monster and a human.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Guileless

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, dejection, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The reader attempts to move past her ruination, but is reminded of her tarnish conscience at every turn. (Regency AU, tall!reader)

Masterlist

Character: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson

Note: thanks to those who waited on this one!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love coffee and that’s a lot and probably unhealthy. Take care. 💖

It should be the happiest time in your life. You should be elated, and yet, as ever it is, every victory precedes a treacherous defeat. A proposal one day, and despair the next. That nipping of doom in your gut, that ever present doubt, is made certain by the passage of time. It has been much too long. 

You sit in the pews, throat tight as you keep your chin locked. You breathe slowly, as if too sudden an intake might unleash the tempest brewing inside of you. It is more than nerves, you know it, that sicken you so. You should be happy for your pending nuptials but you are only horrified at the thought. 

The bishop reads out the banns before the rows; the first for yourself, the third for your sister. She will be permitted to wed and your mother has presided over much of planning already. You dip your head as your name rings out beside Lord Odinson’s and you swallow back a swell of bile. You’ve been gulping down your own stomach for much of the morning, ever since you caught a whiff of pickled shallots in passing the kitchens. 

You push your head up and your hand down to your lap, knowing you will be observed. You must at least look certain of your fate. You must sit proud for the engagement all would put into question. For the time until it shall all dissolve, you must play your part. 

You can barely keep from wilting where you are. A prudent woman might bite her tongue. She may commit to the theatre of it all. She might lie and get away with the folly. You glance over at Lord Odinson, just across the aisle, and you know you cannot. It isn’t one lie, it’s a lifetimes’ worth of betrayal. 

Yet how should you tell it? It isn’t only him who must know. Your father would need good reason why you’d rather the convent to a proper marriage. You will be ruined but you could not put that stain upon the only person who was ever kind to you. Lord Odinson deserves an honest wife and a child of his own. 

Your insides sour and you nearly spasm as you fight the tide of nausea, brought upon by more than your forsaken condition. Your eyes trail away from your betrothed to another man bound in promise. Lord Rogers sits with your sister, as ever, and she leans on him shamelessly, even beneath the Lord’s rafters. 

She would deny it. She would laugh in your face should you ever reveal the absolute truth. No, you must confess the sin as your own and that alone. You will not name the culprit for they would they never believe you and he would never admit it himself. 

Yet, you know that the Duke Rogers will ever be triumphant in knowing that he has brought the monstrous giant to her knees. You are his Goliath, the vile retched creature he has slain in his valour. He will be hero and you be the villain. 

💟

You hand the letter to the carrier just before noon. You don’t expect an audience to be granted until the next morning at earliest. Lord Odinson is a busy man; an ambassador in much demand between the house and society. Even his betrothed must request his presence. 

The cart rattles through the gates and you watch it fade off into the grim horizon. The winter bites in the air, adding to the chill in your bones. That coldness that freeze over your heart. You must be strong now, as strong as the valkyrie he misnamed you as. 

When you go to Lord Odinson, you will bring the crown to him. You will hand it back and admit your tainted stature to him. You will show him how truly small you are.  

At least, that is what you intend. You may prove yourself weak as ever. However it should unfold, this engagement cannot persist. 

“A day! A day and I shall call you husband,” Cora’s shrill tone greets you as you come through the front doors. She is in the sitting room with Lord Rogers. Your mother continues to fawn over the last-minute details for their wedding. “Isn’t it very exciting, my lord?” 

“And I shall call you wife.” 

“And Duchess,” she preens with a trilling laugh, “oh, how elaborate I shall be.” 

“My Athena,” Rogers drones back, “my goddess, my beloved.” 

“Oh, how darling,” your mother preens over them, “it shall be resplendent. I’ve made certain the cake will be exactly as you like it, dearie. The cook has even procured some citrus for the lemonade.” 

The mention of lemonade makes you shrivel. You recall the sunny day when Lord Rogers spoke to you over a weeping beverage. As you fell for that virulent charm. And all that came after. 

You peer at the grim windows and frown. How everything does change so quickly. Happiness is fleeting and yet disappointment comes as a chronic plight. You will never know a day without shame. 

You flit off without notice. Your heart rents at the thought that you will not have the same fervour. You will not sit and plan your own wedding with Lord Odinson. All your fanciful dreams have evaporated. It is one thing to put a mask on, to pretend as virgin, but you could never foist a bastard upon the kind man who has shown you a taste happiness. You will be certain to thank him for all he’s done but you will not spit in his face. 

As you get to the bedroom doors, your stomach churns violently and you burst through, not stopping as you rush to the pot and fall to your knees. You wretch into it as your body contracts painfully. You empty your stomach until you are panting and hollow. 

“Sister,” Alina startles you as she rolls to the edge of the bed, a novel in hand, “is it a winter ague?” 

“I...” you shakily wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I believe so.” 

That lie alone singes your tongue like a brand. Your eyes well with tears and you flick them away with your lashes. You sit back on your heels and heave out a pungent breath. 

“Oh, how awful, and just before the wedding,” she sits up and shuts the novel. “Let us pray it passes quickly. You needn’t delay your own nuptials.” 

“Mm, no, that wouldn’t be...” you let the sentence tail off and you stand, taking the pot with you, “I’ll dump it before it can stink.” 

“If you are unwell, call for the maid.” 

“No, it is fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to disturb your reading.” 

“You didn’t,” she insists. “What’s the matter, sissie? You hardly seem a lady about to marry.” 

“I...” you croak, “it is the ague, that’s all.” 

“Mm, perhaps Lord Odinson might offer some comfort should it get any worse. He does seem the character,” she offers. 

“Or perhaps he is better to stay away. You as well, should it pass onto anyone else,” you hold the pot to your stomach and turn, carrying it out without another word. Albina huffs and falls back onto the bed, the flutter of pages following shortly after. 

You descend and keep along the wall, passing through the kitchens and beyond the servants’ quarters to the rear of the manse. You come out into the crisp air and overturn the pot well away from the house. A wave of dizziness washes over you, silver spots dotting your vision. Perhaps it is an ague. Oh how you wish it were. 

You set the pot down as you grasp at some stability. You stand and wipe your clammy forehead. Your hand drifts down to your bodice and you let it venture further. You try to feel your stomach through the layers. It is tauter than it once was but no rounder. Not as yet. 

You sit on a low stump, the seat the stabler uses to shoe the horses. You let the frigid air seep through your dress and stare at the grey clouds that blot out the sun. You hold your chin, elbows on your legs, hunched over as you let the stagnancy of that moment swallow you. 

For a moment, you believe that you can make time stand still. That you might stretch on this fantasy a little longer. That a single second might be spent into an eternity. You shake your head and close your eyes as your cheeks tingle with the cold. 

You try to picture the convent. You imagine dark halls and darker mornings. Prayers and repentance filling the days and keeping wakeless the nights. Would the nuns even accept a ruined soul like yours? 

“Miss,” Mary, the broom girl, stands along the path back to the house, “you have a caller.” 

You sit up and blink, a caller? How long have you been there? You shiver and rise, towering over the young servant like the mottled forest creature of wives tales. You nod and stride past her, rubbing your arms to warm yourself as you return to the house. 

It cannot be him. Not already. You’re not prepared. It has been all you can think of and yet you are wholly unready for it. 

You carry on inside and come into the main hall. Lord Odinson waits, your mother chittering at his elbow as Lord Rogers and Cora stand in the archway to the west wing. 

“You will be at the wedding tomorrow? We did not receive your response sir,” your mother pleads as she tugs his sleeve. 

“Ah, yes, did I not give it?” Odinson says coolly, “certainly I will come with some Asgardian ale to christen the blissful newlyweds.” 

“And we thank you for such generosity,” Cora coos. 

“I’m certain refreshments will be plenty,” Lord Rogers deflects. 

“Ah,” Lord Odinson’s attention is drawn by your emergence from behind the staircase, “my valkyrie, you called for me and I am here.” 

“I... you have come so... swiftly,” you remark, your voice teetering. 

“Of course,” he assures as he crosses the polished floor, “as ever I will for my beloved.” He approaches and takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, “you are like ice,” he feels your hands and covers them with his gloved ones, “are you ill?” 

“No, uh, yes, no,” you stammer, “sir, I only meant... I only thought to speak with you.” 

“I do cherish the tenor of your sweet voice, lady, I would ride so fast as I might to hear it,” he assures. 

“You rode... all this way, my lord?” 

“I do prefer to be in a saddle,” he affirms, “so, shall we converse? Perhaps we might have some tea to warm you, my valkyrie.” 

“Please,” you cringe, wishing he would quit his honeyed words, “I do not require it. Perhaps somewhere private...” 

“With chaperone of course,” your mother insists. You blanch but do your best not to show your unease. “Pollo! Pollo!” She claps, “forgive me I will not be able to do so myself as I have much to attend to for the morrow, but we have a groom here... Pollo!” 

She cries out and the dark-haired man appears. The old groom has a round belly and wine-reddened cheeks. He doesn’t speak more than Italian but he is steadfast in his service. Your mother bids him, pointing at you, then shoos him with a flick of her fingers. 

He shrugs and bows his head, nearing you and the duke. You peer over at your sister and Lord Rogers as they watch. The former stares at your betrothed as he clings still to your hands and the latter narrows his eyes in your direction. Just the sight of him makes you even more sick than before. Of any, he cannot know though you expect should Cora find out, it will not be a secret. 

“The sun room, perhaps,” Odinson suggests. 

“As you wish,” you agree. 

He offers his arms and you accept it. He guides you along, well-acquainted to the halls already, and takes you around to the sun room. The curtains are closed and the space is dim with the shadow of winter. The groom claims the armchair in the corner, making it groan with his weight, as another servant follows to light a lamp and put flint to the fireplace. 

When all is lit, you detach from Odinson and retreat from him. You mash your hands together and sway, spinning back to face him as he watches you intently. He seems unbothered by the spontaneity of it all. 

“You missed me? I have longed to see you again,” he beams. 

“Please,” you show your palms, “please, I... we must speak.” 

“Of? Name anything and it shall be yours. As my wife, you will never want for anything, valkyrie.” 

You wince as if struck. You drop your arms and your head. You stalk over to the bench that looks toward the window and sit, slumped forward as you shake your head. He approaches as he lets out a long exhale. He sits beside you. 

“Something is amiss. Forgive me for making light, I came upon mistaken sentiment,” his voice is grave, “you have something to say and I must listen. As ever, I am the storm but these winds have calmed.” 

You rock and another hot tinge settles behind your eyes. You roll them up and sit straight. You crane to see over your shoulder. Rollo’s eyes are closed as he’s halfway to sleeping. It is propriety alone that has him sat in that chair. 

You look ahead once more, “I cannot marry you.” 

He sucks in air and snorts, “what?” 

“I cannot—it cannot—I'm sorry, Lord Odinson.” 

“Why ever should you change your mind? The banns are read and will be again,” he touches your arm and you shy away. 

“You deserve... better.” 

“I deserve you,” he insists. 

“Please, sir, let me find the words,” you beg touch your temples as you try to rein in your wits. You close your eyes and shudder. 

“You are cold still, perhaps you might move closer to the fire--” 

“It hardly matters,” you lower your hands and clutch them tight.  

You make yourself look at him. You must. He warrants at least the truth told to his face and not the floor. His blue eyes twinkle as his usually bright face is stern. 

“I am...” you take a breath and struggle to let it back out as the words burn the tip of your tongue, “I... am with... child.” 

You choke out the last word and nearly faint. You stare at him, waiting for him to explode. You mightn’t even have a say in who knows should he speak too loudly. His eyes search yours and he blinks. He turns his face down and looks at his lap, gripping his thighs as he nods and hums. 

“That’s wonderful,” he says. 

“Pardon?” 

“Yes, it’s wonderful. We’ll have a child.” 

“Sir, I—we haven’t... it is another man’s,” you feel as if you shouldn’t have to explain this. 

“Why certainly he put it there, yes, but I would claim it,” he faces you again. 

Your eyes round, “why should you do that? That isn’t... proper. I am not proper, sir. I am telling you that I have been... corrupted. I should never have said yes.” 

“But you did.” 

“You needn’t-- it isn’t fair.” 

“Perhaps it isn’t fair that you should have to carry the cad’s seed,” he agrees, “for any many who would lay with a lady and not seek her hand, well, he can be nothing else.” 

You’re quiet as disbelief clouds around you. He can’t possibly mean it. He must be in shock. Certainly, he wouldn’t just accept another’s child. 

“Sir, you shouldn’t-- you shouldn’t do this. I am releasing you.” 

“I don’t want to be released,” he says sullenly. 

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask. 

“I meant all I said to you, from the first breath, my valkyrie,” he proclaims. “And I mean it still.” 

“But, sir, you cannot—I cannot live with myself--” 

“You are honourable. Honest. You have told me this when you did not need to. When you could’ve claimed an early birth, when you could have kept quiet, yet you did not. That says more than a fleeting tryst. For that’s what it was, yes? Or do you lay with this man still?” 

You shake your head and look down at your fingers as you twists them until they hurt, “just once. Only once. It was... unplanned. It wasn’t...” your voice cracks. 

His chest inflates with a sonorous breath, “did you want it?” 

“Pardon?” You murmur. 

“Unplanned... did you... was it... your tryst, was it willing?” 

You put your fist to your mouth and sob. You can’t say it. You won’t. You replay it in your head every night and you think of how you told him to stop and yet you did not stop him. You should have fought more. You should have screamed. 

“I didn’t make him stop,” you eke around your hand. 

“Make him? Did you ask him to begin?” 

“Please, sir, I cannot—please just end this and I will ask my father for the convent once more. I cannot bring this shame on you.” 

“Shame? Shame is the man, if I should call him that, who has done this,” he snarls and reaches for you, taking your hand. “I swore you would be my wife and I will hold to that. As you swore to be my wife. We will see the altar together. As one.” 

“You do not have to--” 

“I want to,” he growls and you look up at his angry face. You’ve never seen such fury in him. “I have never done anything but by my own whim and will not change that now.” 

“You are too nice, sir. Too nice, I cannot ask it--” 

“Who?” He sneers. 

“Sir?” 

“Who has done this to you?” 

“I cannot--” 

“I should know.” 

“No, please, I wouldn’t-- it would be my ruin--” 

“No, it would be his and you protect him still, so tell me.” 

“No, no I will not. That I cannot tell you, sir. To say it would defeat me completely.” 

He sighs into a snarls and lowers his chin. He sounds like a simmering bull, readying for the charge. You tug on your hand but he will not release you. You relent and let him cling to you. 

Silence, suffocating and still.  

“My brother was an orphan. We took him in when he was young. He is a duke, same as me, now,” he declares as he squares his posture. “You wouldn’t know the difference. And I won’t. Not between this child and our next.” 

“Sir, surely--” 

“We are to have a child,” he says, “that is happy news and I thank you for bringing me here to hear it.” He pets your hand and leans his arm against yours. He brings your fingers up to your mouth and kisses them, “one day, I will know who the culprit is and on that, I will surely split his skull. Not for his bastard, for that child has no sin, but for your honour, lady. For my wife’s honour.” 

💟

Cora’s wedding to Lord Rogers culminates in a grand luncheon. The bride is a beautiful mist of tears as she accepts the well wishes of her guests. She basks in the attention as you gladly languish in the shadows. 

Despite Lord Odinson’s unexpected and reassuring reaction, you’re still uncertain. You don’t know if he’s keeping a good face on until he knows how to act, perhaps renegs his grace, or if you might come to pay for your discretion later in your union. You’re prepared to meet your atonement, however it comes. 

As you sit for the meal, the chair beside you is claimed almost at once. Your betrothed has appeared throughout the event but you’ve hardly been at his side. Each time you see him, his eyes skim the crowd as if he can see right through every one of them. Yet, when he looks at you, you feel only warmth. You don’t understand how he can look at you as such. 

“How do you fare, today, my valkyrie?” He asks as he straightens his cravat, “you look well.” 

“Good, I think.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he raises his glass for a servant to fill it with sherry. You opt for lemon water, as much as your tumultuous stomach can handle. 

“I thought we might have our own reception at Nine Pillars,” he suggests. 

“I would like that,” you agree, your eyes drifting beyond him, to your father’s gardens, where... “whatever you may offer, I will be grateful for.” 

“Mighty valkyrie, full of grace,” he praises and reaches for a platter, “ooh, they have some sweet ham here with pineapple.” 

He takes a helping and puts it on your plate. You smell the tangy fruit and the underline savoury waft of the meat. You lurch and grasp the edge of the table. You give a panicked look to Odinson as he peers down at the food. He switches your plates out swiftly. 

“Tell me, what are you in the mind for then?” He leans in so his arm touches yours as you sip from the lemon water to quell your stomach. “Valkyrie, give me your command and I will obey.” 

You give him a coy grin, “you can be so silly.” 

“Silly. Mad. All for love,” he assures you.  

“Is their anything dry?” You ask, “bread, perhaps.” 

“Sourdough,” he reaches to take the basket as others help themselves to the spread. 

“I’ll have some of that.” 

“With marmalade?” He offers.  

“No,” your face pinches at the thought, “no, bread will do.” 

You blink and shake of another tide of sickness. As you do, your eyes meet another pair further down the table, amid the rabble of voices. Lord Rogers tilts his head as Cora tugs on his sleeve and giggles up at the couple behind them. He hardly seems to notice as he stares you down. 

You go rigid and quickly look away. You touch Odinson’s arm to keep from panicking. He looks at you, then down the table. He doesn’t say anything, merely carves off a chunk of bread for you. 

You pick away at the hard crust and the dry spongey inside. You take small bites, cautious of upsetting your volatile stomach. The afternoon wears on, course after course, and you avoid those dishes which threaten to overthrow your restraint. 

At last, the cake is serves, a tiered sponge with cream and fruit and candied sugar spun in a facsimile fountain atop it. It’s splended and beautiful. The couple are served first as they smiles in delight. The doling out of servings takes some time as guests wait patiently for their turn and the cake is pushed on a cart from chair to chair. 

When it comes your turn, your name rises over the crowd. You sit up and glance over, relieved at least not to watch the layers of custard and cake hit your plate. Lord Rogers has his hand on the back of his wife’s chair. 

“And how do you like the dessert? I believe you’ve been saving space for it all day, eh?” He chirps. 

You angle your head in confusion. You look down then at Odinson who sits a little taller as he leans forward. 

“You’ve hardly indulged, so I hope you might show your support and delight in this delectable dessert,” Rogers taunts. “A wedding is no place for a sour face.” 

Your lips part. You’re stunned. How could he be so bold as to call you out? Among all his guests and he must torment you. Was one night not enough. Your whole life as his violation thrives within your womb. Lord Odinson subtly touches your elbows. 

“I am most happy for you and my sister,” you rebuff, “and you are correct, I’ve been in much anticipation for dessert.” 

You take your fork and scoop up a heaping mouthful. You smile at it even as your insides rage. You make yourself taste it. It’s so sweet and smooth and wonderful, but your stomach mulches as if it is rubbish. Your cheeks tremble and you swallow, nearly gagging. 

“To you, sir, and my sister, Cora, I wish a happy marriage,” you force out as you hide your mouth behind a handkerchief. 

“To the happy couple,” Lord Odinson raises his glass and the table erupts, at once, the attention shifted back to them. 

You brace his arm and squeeze. You fight but you cannot withhold the uproar within. You stand and rush away, frantically searching for somewhere to hide and spew your guts. 

💟

The days overcome your doubts. The weeks come with more affectations; your sickness ebbs and flows and the temperature feels at times hotter then colder, swaying back forth, while some moments you spend with a throbbing head and pulsing feet. The most obvious symptom of your condition is the tightness of your stay. Soon, you will be showing more than you like, but for now, loosened laces can ease your discomfort. 

Your wedding day fast approaches. Time does seem to defy any human whim. You wish it would slow so you could catch your breath. Much like your husband-to-be who has yet to falter in his affections. 

You sit before the mirror with the grown of silver petals in your lap. There is one still bent from Cora’s envy but you will keep it to the back of your head. You will wear it as proudly as that night Lord Odinson gifted it to you. You hope for the day you might both forget all else. 

If it is to be. If he is at the altar waiting still. 

Albina and Hannah take the crown from you and secure it among your styled locks. Albina smiles at your reflection as Hannah jabs you with a pin. You nervously wring your hands as you admire the lavender shade of your gown. You wish you’d had more of it, that you hadn’t needed to trim it in ivory to make up for your height. Still, it is beautiful and the nicest dress you’ve ever worn. 

“Are you nervous?” Albina asks. 

“Suppose,” you admit and lift your chin, “very, truly.” Though not for the reason she might think. 

“Lord Odinson is kind. He should be gentle,” Hannah says. 

Your cheeks tinge at her suggestion, “sister.” 

“Well, it is what we are all thinking, isn’t it?” She shrugs. 

“I hope I do not find a husband so soon,” Albina adds, “I would like to enjoy my books a little longer.” 

“You might take on the spinster’s mantel then,” Hannah snipes. 

“It shouldn’t be so bad,” you murmur. “Every woman must do it. Eventually. It cannot be so horrible.” 

You lower your head again, trying to hide the emotion battling in your chest. It was bad, that first time. Lord Rogers hadn’t been kind at all. Would Lord Odinson be any different? For Rogers seemed kind at first glance only to be cruel upon touch. 

What if you husband did not want to meet his duty? What if he could not knowing you had lain with another? You would not blame him and without consummation, he might still turn you away. 

“Cora said it was more painful than anything she’s ever felt,” Hannah undercuts your dread. “Though she still loves her husband well.” 

“You shouldn’t speak of that,” you gird. 

“Why not? Won’t you tell us how it is so we may be ready?” She challenges. 

“I... I... It’s rather strange to speak of it.” 

“You are strange,” Hannah retorts with a huff. 

“But pretty,” Albina chimes, “look at you, sissie. You truly look like a queen in that crown.” 

You meet the gaze of your reflection. You do look better than you ever have before. You wonder if they notice the new fullness in your cheeks. If they do, they don’t mention it. You take a deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer,” you stand.  

If you wait any longer, you might lose your nerve. 

The bishop waits in the grand hall of Nine Pillars as you emerge from the rooms allotted for your preparations. The crowd stands among the columns and hushes as you appear at the end of the hall. You face the clergy man and for an instant, your heart dangles precariously, ready to plummet.  

Where is Lord Odinson? 

His golden head pops up beside the bishop and he fixes the flower tucked into his lapel. His long blond hair is draw back as a scarlet bow holds it back, its ears peeking out behind his nape. He is smiling as he pauses and his eyes meet yours across the space. 

You can see even from there how his features slacken and for a moment, you are breathless. He looks as stricken. You put one foot down and let your long legs carry you. 

All your doubts float away. The faces around you haze together and the world crumbles to dust. It's only you and that man.  

💟

The ceremony gives way to a soiree, bodies clustered together, partners dancing, and you among them. Your husband, a husband, has your hand in his as he leads you in the steps. This man, this wonderful forgiving man you vowed yourself too nearly sweeps you off your feet, a sensation you've never known before. 

Your cheer blooms from you as his cheeks flush in his excess. He barely pauses to receive kind words from his guest. His elation is contagious. It gives no way to your fears. 

"Do you know what I thought upon the altar, beautiful valkyrie," he purrs, "I nearly fell upon my knees even." 

"What?" You smile, glowing up at him. 

"That the gods did bless me. That you must be sent from them, a gift to me, mere mortal." 

You can't help but pat his chest, "you flatter." 

"You are too modest," he guides you along, "you are a statue come too life, art in the flesh." 

"My husband... you words are too sweet." 

"I know, I know, the wedding night is still ahead of us, I do run too fast," he chuckles, "but how can I help the anticipation? 

Your lashes flick and giggle, "husband." 

"That word has never sounded sweeter," he grins, "but a sweeter noise might be my own name. Say it for me, valkyrie." 

Your cheeks burn hot, "Thor?" 

"Delicious," he growls nearly baring his teeth, "and I shall savour every sound you make. Every moan and mewl. Every breath and laugh. Just as every part of you." 

It's too good to be true. You deign to let yourself feel it all but you must. If even only for tonight. If only for the next moment. You will have a morsel of happiness if it's all you have to chew on for the rest of your life. 

💟

The night wears on and so do you. Your feet ache, as does most of you, and your voice is raw from laughing and talking. It is the first that you ever spent an event not along the wall or hiding in some shadow. It is a night all your own, or so your husband has made it feel. 

Yet, he does not tire. Not as quickly. As he booms and bawls to the amusement of all, you cling to his arm and repress a yawn. You will not spoil his fun, you will persist. 

Still, you cannot ignore all urges of your humanity. You press a hand to his sleeve and excuse yourself, promising to return. Your husband pauses to bid you not be long and you're further abashed at his attention. 

You flit off to find the privy. You've been several times over the day. Your bladder swells no matter how little you drink. As you progress, you find your body is contradictory to your mind. 

You venture down the corridor and sweep into the room. Once relieved, you emerge feeling lighter but no less tired. The silent desolation of the corridor rather makes your exhaustion all the more potent. 

You turn towards the statue of a warrior, you recognise it, it is the means by which you've found your way. Before you can pass it, a figure appears from behind it and you falter in your slippers. 

You gasp and ball your hands, the man before you sending a ripple of horror through you as he smirks at your surprise. Lord Rogers' cheek dimples as he quorks his head like a cynical crow. 

"You are ever a creature of urges," he muses, "fluttering back and forth as a skittish bird." 

"My lord, I... what is the meaning--" 

"I'm afraid we've not had much of a chance to speak, have we? The blushing bride is much a titter," he chortles, "she has the gull to giggle like a maiden, even." 

"Lord Rogers," you utter, appalled. 

"But the sway of her hips do betray her true nature. That which is within her," he sneers, "as does the curdling of her face over any dish that tickles her nose." 

"Sir, I know not what you mean--" 

"I should laugh truly, to know that another will raise my bastard," he taunts, "that it is him, does entertain me more." He takes a step forward and you back, "so you will be certain to lay with him this night so he may believe he has vigour." He grabs your arms before you can elude him, "you will think of me, won't you, Athena, my fallen goddess? Of how I desecrated your--" 

Suddenly, you are staggered. Lord Rogers is swung backward and flung into the statue. There's a roar, tha same noise you would expect of a charging bear, and the flash of scarlet. You watch paralysed as Thor grabs Lord Rogers by his jacket and spins him, throwing him into the other wall. 

The smaller of the men, though they are both built well, slides to one knee, his hand on the plaster. The other is quick, wasting not a second before aims a foot into Rogers' stomach. The duke falls backward and is at once straddled beneath the larger. 

Thor lays blows upon the other man, hailing down on him like the tempest he claims himself. Your fear overflows and you push through the thick waves. You come forward numbly and pull your husband by the back of his collar.  

"Please sir, unhand him." 

"You would defend this animal!" He wails down another fist and growls. 

"No, no, I would not spare him but I would... I would have my husband not take me to my wedding night with bloodied knuckles. Thor," you pet the back of his head, "let this be a happy day. Please." 

He sits back on his heels and puffs out. He looks back at you as you step away. You put your hand to your middle.  

"Husband?" 

He snarls and spits on Lord Rogers, standing with a huff. You reach for his hand and he takes it. He squeezes as he sends one last kick of his toe to the man on the floor. 

"Let me save my strength for you, wife. I certainly would need it." 

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Sweet Tooth (Joe Goldberg x gn reader x Love Quinn)

Summary: you're a big fan of the bakery, but Joe and Love are after something sweeter- you

Warnings: obsessive behavior from Love and Joe but that's about it

A/N: my mom made me a carrot cake recently and it inspired me to write this

Everyday you entered A Fresh Tart right after lunch, needing a little something to satiate your sweet tooth before heading back to work. Sometimes it was a cake, sometimes it was a cookie, sometimes a pie, but it was always delicious.

Love quickly caught on to your routine, always making sure she was free to assist you whenever you came in. If another customer needed help, they were just going to have to wait, because you were much more important.

The bell chimed above the door to signal that you'd arrived, prompting her to smooth out the front of her apron before putting on a bright smile. "Hey! I was wondering when you were going to come in."

"I had a meeting that ran a little late, so my lunch hour got pushed back some," you replied with a smile that mirrored hers. The unfortunate bags under your eyes didn't escape her, a sure sign that you were overworking yourself, but the faint dimples that formed on your cheeks quickly diverted her attention. How cute.

"Well, you're here now. So, what can I get for you?"

While you mulled over what kind of confection you wanted for the day, Joe peeked his head out from the back. So that's the person Love always raved about coming in just after noon. You were cute, he couldn't deny that.

"If you're having some trouble making a decision, why don't you try both and see which one you like better?" He heard his wife offer when you clearly became stuck on choosing between two different sweet treats.

"Oh, I can't do that," you began to protest before Love waved her hand dismissively at your words.

"Nonsense! It's my bakery, and I say you can have a sample if you wish," she insisted while cutting a small sliver of cake from the one in the glass display case before grabbing the second pastry you'd been eyeing, placing them both in a paper to go box. "Try both, and tomorrow you when you come in you can tell me which one you liked better."

"That's awfully kind of you. Are you sure I don't owe you anything?" You asked as she slid the box across the counter, already starting to pull out your wallet.

"Of course not! It's on the house."

Despite her words of reassurance and warm smile, you still felt as though she deserved something in return, so you took out a five dollar bill and stuck it in the tip jar. "I'll be back tomorrow at my usual time."

Her eyes twinkled with admiration at the small act of kindness. You were so much sweeter than any of the things she baked, that much was certain. "See you then."

Joe came out from the back as she was watching you leave, slightly amused at the exchange that just happened. Before he could speak, however, she beat him to it.

"I want them."

It wasn't a suggestion or a request, it was a demand, one that wasn't left open for any arguments. Love wanted you, and what she wanted she got. All she needed to do was get him on board, which shouldn't be too hard given just how irresistible you were.

The next day when you came in, Love wasn't there, having taken Henry to a doctor's appointment for a check-up, which meant the she'd left Joe in charge.

"Oh, hey," you greeted in a friendly manner despite never having met him before. "You must be Joe, right? Love told me that she ran the place with her husband."

Immediately he knew why she wanted you so much. Everything about you just screamed perfect, there was no doubt about that. "Uh, yeah, hi. She told me you were having some sort of difficulty choosing between two items yesterday," he casually mentioned, wanting you to think their marriage was much smoother than it really was. They couldn't lure you in successfully if all you saw were their problems.

"I did, you're right," you replied with a soft laugh, one that made his heart leap forward in his chest. God, no wonder Love always dropped everything just so she could see you whenever you came in. He suspected the only reason she'd offered to take Henry today was so he could officially meet you and become just as obsessed with you as she was.

"And were you able to make a decision?" He was curious about you already, curious about your personal taste, your likes and dislikes. He needed to know it all.

"Well, they were both amazing as usual, but I think I'm going to have to go with the cake. Everything about it was delicious, especially the icing," you fondly reminisced, almost beginning to salivate at the thought alone.

"Sure thing," he said while grabbing a knife to cut you a slice, unable to stop himself from thinking about just how sweet your lips must taste after every trip you made to the bakery. He'd have to try a piece of the cake himself a little later so he could imagine it properly.

Your eyes were wide with giddy delight as you observed his every move, clearly excited to be able to eat the cake when you got the chance. You were just about to pull out your wallet when he held up his hand to stop you. "Don't worry about it. Love told me to tell you it's on the house."

"You know, one of these days you're really going to have to let me repay you somehow," you commented while dropping aother five dollar bill into the tip jar, just like you did last time.

Joe was already thinking of ways for you to repay the both of them, but they were far too lewd for him to say out loud. "You have a nice day," was his response instead, giving you a small wave as you left.

Damn it, he was hooked. There was no way he could refuse Love's order, because now he wanted the exact same thing she did: you.

And they were going to have you, one way or the other, no matter what it took.

End notes: I loved writing this and I'd totally be up to making a part two if anyone wanted it <3

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📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: lando’s usually well spent sunday off with his girlfriend is different this time around. you put off your everything shower and wash-day causing some edits to the usual routine. how the night ends, however, is 100% lando’s fault. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: fluff/borderline?crack(if u think im funny). one or two mentions of sex, not explicit at all. not edited to beta-read. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: lando norris x black!fem!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: singing in the shower ~ becky g

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: preface: hello! it’s late night or early morning for me, i guess, when i’m posting this. i was going to say this is my first rpf ever, but that’s a bold-faced lie ☠️but! it is my first f1 work! i hope you enjoy it! i’d love to have some f1 mutuals out here, if anyone wants <3. also requests are open, just come talk to me and ramble about anything, or any idea you have the f1 boys, i’d love to have some great anons and asks to fulfill. hope you enjoy it :)

it’s a rare sunday where you and lando are both home together. usually you two would take advantage of this and make the most out of it. you’d lay in bed late into the morning with an excessively cuddly boyfriend, cook a nice and healthy brunch together you cook, lando handles the soundtrack and vibes because he loses all coordination in the kitchen, play a co-op video game that you guys have been working your way through for a month, go out on a nice little dinner date, and have great sex before knocking out.

HOWEVER, this week you have kinda forgotten that you need to do your hair. originally you had an appointment that tuesday to get a silk press done with your usual hairstylist, but she canceled on you. once you got that “hey girly...” text you’d known there was no hope of rescheduling, for that week at least. so, you decided to do your own hair sometime later in the week, but your boyfriend was home for the first time after a triple-header, and was a terrible lovely distraction. you also had to work, unfortunately, you had to clean the flat, you had to eat, and you had to breathe—so understandably, you’ve ended up pushing your wash-day/hair-day and everything-shower to the last minute.

you apologized several times to lando during breakfast for your forgetfulness and wasting valuable “boyfriend-girlfriend time” as lando coined. but lando is lando—a sweetheart at his core—so he refused to accept your apologies with an “don’t apologize for something so minor, love,” and even offered to help you tackle the fight you end up almost losing every time…. vs. your hair. 

you kindly denied his assistance knowing damn well that if he was in the shower with you, your hair wouldn’t be done until late that night due to a different type of lando-distraction. you suggested that lando streamed while you were doing your shower and hair, and that you could still go out for dinner that evening. lando was pretty receptive to the idea, especially after he made sure that you were 100% okay with him not helping you do your hair (he usually does, you’ve got him trained pretty good; all he needs is the license at this point), and the fact that it’s been like 3 months since he last streamed.

lando posts that he’s streaming starting at noon, and after a brief make out against the sink post-dishwashing that leaves your lips swollen and head foggy, he goes to take a shower and start setting up his stream equipment. cursing lando’s smug-ass face as he walks away, you let him know that you're stepping out to the beauty supply store to get a few items before you start your little routine and that you might not see him before his stream starts. he does a 180, and rushes back to you from down the hallway to give you one more mind boggling kiss and with a smile says, “text me when you get there and when you’re back. i’ll have my phone on dnd but your messages are set to pass through it, so if you don’t want to be seen on stream today you don’t have to worry about it.” internally, you’re pretty sure your heart just imploded at the mindfulness this boy has—that your boyfriend has. somehow, it still surprises you how mature lando is for how silly he acts most of the time.

“you’re too sweet to me, lan.” you respond with a shy smile, “i probably won’t interrupt you today—i’ll let your delulu fans have custody, and deal with you!” lando throws his head back and does his usual demonic laugh, “hey! my fans are not that delusional, but i am afraid that you’re losing the custody battle!” he kisses you on the cheek, and with that you separate until later that day.

or so you thought. you knew lando’s super sweet behavior was too sus without him being his usual gremlin-self at least once.

when you get back from the beauty supply store (which should’ve been a fifteen-minute trip at most, turned into a near hour after the usual shenanigans you find yourself involved in buying things you don’t need), lando’s already started his stream. you text him letting him know you’re about to hop into the shower, and start heading to en-suite bathroom.

when you open the door, the mirror is slightly covered with remaining steam from lando’s shower, and you can see his clothes hanging half-inside the hamper. which is an improvement from being left on the floor—choose your battles, ladies. but as you move further into the bathroom, setting down your everything-shower supplies, changing into your silk robe and bonnet—you pick up on a lingering scent that should not be present.

your ninety-four fucking dollar scalp revival shampoo.

you’ve had that shampoo since you were seventeen, using it only when extremely necessary. you didn’t even pay for it, it was something your mom bought you as a pretty thoughtful and useful gift after you complained about your scalp suddenly getting super sensitive. it lasted through your senior year of grade school, all of university, and goddamn-it, two boyfriends!!! you let out a bit of an hysterical giggle (seek mental help, babe) and walk to the shower to grab the jar. the problem is: you know there was only probably one more usage left.

turning the cap off, your worst fears are confirmed...it’s…empty. with an anguished cry, you fall to your knees on the tiled floor—it’s like your childhood pet died. you gently set the jar down on the floor, and stare dazedly at the ceiling. what makes it worse is: you know that lando probably didn’t even use it properly. he most likely didn’t even let it sit for the mandatory 15 minutes that all girls do as an excuse to waste more time in the shower, he prob- he probably rinsed it out right after he massaged it in; that thought right there almost had you crying. oh, and what makes it even worse-r , what was a one-use sized amount for you was like, three for lando, so if he used it sparingly, you would’ve at least gotten to cherish it for the last time.

and with that, you rise from the floor, like some sort of re-animated monster—and with a twitching eye, start stomping to lando’s stream room. before you barge in, you remember what you're wearing: a black silk robe, matching bonnet, glasses, and your cute orange shark slides (lando bought them for you, he has a matching pair). you do the mental math of caring about this being on the internet for the rest of your life, but eventually the opportunity of terrorizing lando wins out over whatever a digital footprint is.

the door swings open, and with your shout of, “lando norris!” the pinging of his chat becomes rapid. lando looks wide-eyed at the camera and whispers, “oh fuck.” he half spins in his chair to look at you in the doorway, and is met with a flying shark slide to the neck. “oW! what did i do??” he cries out.

“you used the last of my ONE-HUNDRED DOLLAR shampoo, YOU THIEVING GREMLIN!!!” the chat notifications start cutting each other off with how fast they’re being sent.

“i didn’t use your shampoo??” he says with a bewildered look, clutching the shark slide to his chest. you seethe, “the fucking WOODEN JAR, that you didn’t even have the AUDACITY throw away, and left in the shower?!”

lando pauses, and makes an ‘a-ha’ sort of face goes, “oh, i thought that was conditioner.” you scream again and this time you don’t miss your mark. the remaining shark slide bonks him right on the forehead. “oW, again?!”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE GOOD REACTION TIME??!”

“yEAH?! WELL, i didn’t expect  MY GIRLFRIEND to ASSAULT ME with the shark slides that I bought HER!!”

“yEAH?! WELL, i didn’t expect MY BOYFRIEND to waste MY hair products!!”

lando cackles but surrenders, he reaches for you in the doorway and pulls you in between his legs with his hands gripping your hips. 

he pouts, “i’m sorry. i can buy you another batch, if you’d like. if you need it for your shower right now, i can pause the stream and run and go get for you, or get it delivered?” you sigh, looking at his wide blue eyes. you let him stew for a minute, trying to find it in you to remain mad. his thumbs start petting you gently while you think, and he leans his head forward to rest on your tummy.

you sigh again, hand coming up to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and cave, “nah..don’t even worry about it. i don’t even need to use it today, i just wanted to remind you to keep your nosy-ass away from my hair products.” he nods against your abdomen, you start to pull away, and he does the same. you lean down and give him a brief peck on the cheek, and turn to exit the room. 

“oh!” you exclaim now in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, “i love you, even though you steal all my shit.”

lando giggles, cheeks turning a light pink, “i love you, princess,” the simp dripping out of every pore in his body. you point at him, “this is actually a mutually beneficial situation! now, for date night you can take me to the store to buy hair products,” lando’s smile drops, “don’t worry we can get some for you too, curly boy!” lando doesn’t even try to fight it once he sees the borderline manic grin on your face, just begging him to test you one more time. he accepts his face, “yes, love. i can’t wait for tonight, princess.”

he turns back to his stream when the door closes all the way and shakes his head. he claps his hands once, ready to get back into it, but you burst in again,

“and when i get out of that damn shower in an hour—you’re sure as hell gonna help blow dry and flat iron this shit! it’s silk press season, lando norris, we cannot be caught slacking!” you slam the door shut, and leave.

lando just blinks at the camera, mouth slightly open like that one pikachu meme. he briefly reads the chat, trying to recover, and looks at all of the chatters pick on him like he just got called to the dean’s office. some messages start to roll in about him having to end the stream.

he waits to hear the bedroom door shut, and a few more seconds for the shower to start running before he pseudo-whispers into the mic, “don’t worry, chat! she may have said an hour, but we actually have more like three. it’s her ‘everything-shower’, no-way she’ll finish that quickly. she needs an hour just to sing and dance in there before she starts actually doing anything.”

he starts to open a lobby in cod, sending invites to a few of the boys online and his phone starts vibrating on the desk. the chat starts to go wild again, recognizing its the ringtone he set for your messages. his face drops again when he opens your text thread, “oh my god, chat. she heard me, i forgot she pulls up the stream for background noise. i’m screwed.”

yninstagram • 2hrs ago

liked by landonorris, ybfsinstagram, and 123,978 others

yninstagram hairstylist did his thing for silk press season 👅

tagged landonorris

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landonorris can’t even see our faces but you can’t tell we’re both pretty

➥yninstagram pretty gyal takeover

➥user bro 😭 i can’t even call this sassy

➥user he’s just keeping it real with y’all

landonorris i’ll always take care of you like a princess

➥landonorris and one day very soon, forever treat you like a queen

➥ynistagram lan ☹️🥺

➥user proposal hint?!!!

➥user it’s a 4ever thing y’all wouldn’t understand 🥱

➥user i do 🙄 y/n comes home one day every two years and takes care of our eight children

➥user bitch—LMFAOOO

user not her gatekeeping the stylist 😤 not very girl’s girl of her

➥yninstagram he’s booked out for the foreseeable future sorry babe

➥user oh uh. that’s completely understandable. he doesn’t take walk in’s ? 😃

landonorris • 3hrs ago

liked by yninstagram, maxfewtrell, and 2,321,768 others

landonorris you attract what you fear? word, oh no a pretty gyal who lets me do her hair😱 oohhhhh how scaryyy

tagged yninstagram

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yninstagram damn 🥵 she’s pretty fit

yninstagram heard her boyfriend’s finer

➥landonorris shouldn’t listen to gossip, her bf can’t match her beauty by far

➥user now THATS SOME RIZZ i didn’t know he had it in him

carlossainzjr y/nnita keep brainwashing him i’m getting good teasing material

➥ynistagram sí señor, el gusto es mio

➥carlossainzjr aye,lando her spanish is better than yours🤣

➥landonorris my tractor is better than yours, mmm yeah that’s what i thought

➥user DAMN LANDO CHILL

➥yninstagram he will be issuing a formal apology at the paddock next sunday señor sainz

➥user i just KNOW she got him at shark slide-point

© httpsserene 2023

[greenunoreversecard]

hi! can i request remus lupin x reader where reader is going through a break up and remus confesses his feelings for them? hope this makes sense and totally okay if not!

A/N: ofc! I'm just gonna do male bc the gender wasn't specified. Again, don't do fem or fem aligned so sorry if that's what you was hoping for. Also not beta read.

-E/N is exes name

-S/T is stuffed toy. I was gonna do stuffed animal but the letters together... aren't a good thing.

Minor hints to internalized homophobia, but to be fair it's the 70s so what do you expect?

Reader is in Gryffindor and is the fifth person in he Marauder's dorm

Synopsis: When the girl you were dating to distract yourself from Remus breaks up with you, spewing nasty words along the way, Remus is there to show you just how wrong the both of you were.

That Daft Cunts got nothin on me, love

Remus Lupin x M! Reader

Honestly, you knew to expect E/N's breakup. You saw the signs, and you'd known it wasn't long before it ended.

Doesn't mean it hurt any less.

You'd spent a good portion of time, locked in your dorm. No ones heard much from you after the letter you got at breakfast, but with the sun high in it's arch across the sky, nearing late noon it was only a matter of time before someone came to find you.

There's a knock at the door, and a muffled voice follows it, raspy and baritone.

Remus.

"Y'alright, love? May I come in?"

"Fuck off," You sniffle out in weak retaliation, furiously swiping your eyes and sniffling.

"Do it yourself?" He quips back playfully. A big reason for the breakup, as stated in E/N's letter (not even in person, that fucking wanker. Through a damn letter) was the proximity of you and Remus.

There's not much denying it, you definitely have had the biggest crush on Remus, and E/N was rather a means of hiding the fact, but it doesn't mean you didn't care. It doesn't mean the insults she'd hurled at you hurt any less, either.

"Right then, in I go.." the door gently creaks open and you bury your face in your favorite S/T. As he sees the sight of you, he comes gently, quickly making his way to your bed on the far side of the room and you feel your bed dip next to your head. You feel as his hand gently starts to massage your scalp, lulling you to a sort of blissful calm.

"Nasty breakup with E/N I take it?"

You nod swiftly, not having removed yourself from the stuffy but having wormed yourself partially into Remus's lap.

"Aw, it's alright lovey, 've gotcha now. What's it read, then?"

"The reasoning were true, but the insults where just bloody mean" You muffled whine quietly rings out.

"Is it alright if I read it?"

As his quiet voice asks the question you've so been dreading, you sigh heavily but finally removed yourself from the toy. All you see is the soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips, and the gentle furrow of his brow as he looks down at you.

You reach across Remus to the bedside table behind him, grabbing a crumpled ball of paper and flattening it, before handing it to him.

You both sit quietly for a moment, you with your head and upper shoulders splayed across his lap, grip strong as a vice on he stuffed toy.

His small smile from seeing you has quickly turned into a angry frown at the words she spewed at you.

"This daft fuckin cunt? Who she thinks she is, saying shit like this? Bloody fuck mate- right as hell id be upset if it's at me." He say with a angry huff of breath, body rigid. Though, he quickly remembers your in his presence and softens again.

"'m sorry that twat said those things, lovey."

"it's alright, I guess. Nothing that wasn't deserved."

"You don't though. Not right of her to say that shit," he pauses for a moment, before his demeanor becomes more nervous," is it true, though? The second or third paragraph had said something about you being in love with me?"

This causes you to stiffen, before hiding your face again.

"...yeah"

"speak up, love. I can't hear you."

You hurt and remove your face.

"Yes. I dated her to forget about you. About... about being in love with a guy."

He pauses at that, his body stiffening but his hand still gently stroking your hair.

"It's not wrong, you know. Being in love with guys. I mean fuck- you know about Sirius. Does that mean he's wrong for who he loves?"

"But he's different"

"How?"

"I-" you huff. "I don't know. It just... it doesn't seem fair to you, Remus"

"How is it wrong to me?"

"Because it's putting you in a position where it'll be awkward."

At this he quirks a brow. "And how is that?"

"Because.."

"Cause how? Because I don't love you back? I assure you I do"

"I-"

You start to speak before his sentence finally hits you. Mouth forming an 'O' shaping and blinking rapidly

"Fucking- what?"

"I love you back. I feel the same towards you as you do me"

"I-..." You pause, face burning a scarlet shade as you lick your lips," Why?"

He laughs lightly as your response.

"Why wouldn't I?"

You blink owlishly at him some more, and he's looking at you mirthfully with that know-it-all smirk of his.

"Kiss me?" You say without thinking.

He laughs heartily leaning down. His lips ghost yours as he murmurs against your lips 'Who am I to deny you, my love?' and gently presses his lips against yours.

He tastes of chocolate and stale coffee. And honestly, he tastes a bit like what you think home would.

as you unwillingly pull away; he murmurs in the love charged quiet; "Promise that daft cunts got noting on me, especially with those fuckin words"

-----

A/N: Sorry if it's not great or ooc. Also, please like reblog and comment!! I love to interact with y'all!!!

[novaursa]

The Games We Play (adamant)

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

- Paring: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Note: There will be one more part posted that will conclude this story.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: simple things

- Next part: checkmate

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

Alicent stood in the middle of her father’s chambers in the Tower of the Hand, arms crossed and tapping her foot impatiently. She’d spent half the night worrying and the other half trying to convince herself that Otto Hightower—the most dutiful, straight-laced man in all of Westeros—wouldn’t have done anything truly reckless.

When the door creaked open, she straightened, her eyes narrowing as her father entered. The sight of him was… unexpected, to say the least. His normally immaculate cloak was rumpled and his hair slightly out of place.

“Father,” she began, her voice a mixture of disbelief and worry. “Where were you last night?”

Otto paused, clearly caught off guard by her presence, though he quickly recovered, attempting to straighten his cloak and look dignified. “Alicent. Good morning.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, taking in his disheveled appearance. “It’s nearly noon, Father. And… well, look at you!”

Otto cleared his throat, doing his best to appear composed. “I assure you, Alicent, I was simply… engaged in matters of importance.”

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, disbelief clear on her face. “Matters of importance? You mean the matters that left your cloak rumpled, your face exhausted, and your hair looking as if it’s been through a storm?”

Otto’s lips pressed into a thin line as he brushed a hand over his hair, attempting to smooth it down with little success. “The princess requested my company, and we ventured into the city,” he said, as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence.

Alicent blinked, momentarily speechless. “You went into King’s Landing? With Y/N? At night?” She stared at him as if he’d just announced he’d taken up fire-dancing.

“Yes, well, the princess was keen on exploring Flea Bottom,” he replied with a small cough, trying to downplay the whole ordeal. “She… appreciates my company.”

Alicent’s eyes widened in pure disbelief. “And you… agreed?”

Otto hesitated, then nodded, his tone almost defensive. “She seemed intent on going, with or without my guidance. I thought it best to… accompany her.”

Alicent placed a hand on her forehead, letting out a sigh. “So you thought the best thing to do was to traipse around Flea Bottom with her like a pair of commoners?”

“Traipse is a strong word,” Otto muttered, his cheeks coloring faintly. “I was merely… keeping her safe.”

Alicent shook her head, looking him up and down. “Keeping her safe? You look as though you barely kept yourself together. Father, you have a smudge of—” she reached forward, dabbing at a faint mark on his collar, which only seemed to make the smudge worse.

Otto cleared his throat, a bit flustered. “Yes, well, Flea Bottom isn’t exactly the cleanest part of the city.”

Alicent pulled back, eyeing him skeptically. “And yet, you… went with her. Why? I’ve never known you to indulge in any of her wild ideas.”

Otto straightened, a hint of pride creeping into his expression. “The princess deserves someone who will respect her wishes and support her interests. Even if they’re… unconventional.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Unconventional? Father, this sounds more like you were… what’s the word…” She glanced to the ceiling, searching for the right term before it hit her. “Chasing after her.”

Otto stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “I am the Hand of the King, not some lovesick boy, Alicent.”

But Alicent’s amused smile said otherwise. “Oh, forgive me, Father, but I never expected to see you losing sleep and wandering the city just because Princess Y/N thought it’d be fun.”

Otto looked away, clearly uncomfortable but unable to deny her words. “I simply… wanted to ensure her safety,” he insisted, though even he seemed a bit uncertain as he said it.

Alicent let out a sigh, though there was a hint of fondness in her exasperation. “Well, just… try not to make it a habit, Father. Flea Bottom might survive one night of you, but I doubt the city’s ready for the Hand to become a regular.”

Otto gave her a tight-lipped smile, his dignity barely intact. “Noted, Alicent.”

As she watched him try to brush the soot from his collar, she couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful. And maybe, next time, find a way to keep your cloak in one piece?”

Otto nodded, though there was a slight gleam in his eye. “I appreciate your concern, Alicent. Truly.”

Alicent smirked, turning to leave. “Of course, Father. After all, I’m not sure the council would survive another meeting with you looking like… that.”

Otto’s sigh followed her out, though this time, it was tinged with a reluctant smile.

Later that day, after Otto had finally managed to get some sleep and restore a fraction of his usual composure, he spotted you in one of the courtyards, chatting animatedly with your brother, Viserys. The king was listening to you with a fond smile, clearly enjoying whatever story you were telling him.

As Otto approached, he noticed Viserys glancing his way with an unmistakable twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The king straightened, nudging you playfully. “Look who’s back to join us—the adventurer himself,” Viserys said, grinning as Otto reached the two of you.

You turned, a mischievous smile lighting up your face. “Ah, the Hand of the King,” you greeted with mock formality. “How did you fare after our little outing, Lord Otto? I trust you’ve recovered?”

Otto cleared his throat, doing his best to maintain his usual decorum. “I am quite well, Princess. Thank you for your… concern.”

Viserys let out a chuckle, crossing his arms as he gave Otto an appraising look. “I have to say, Otto, I never imagined you’d have it in you to brave Flea Bottom with my sister. I almost didn’t believe it when she told me about everything!”

Otto managed a tight-lipped smile, though there was a slight twitch in his jaw. “It was… an experience, Your Grace. One I undertook with the sole purpose of ensuring the princess’s safety, of course.”

“Of course,” you echoed, feigning innocence as you glanced at your brother. “I certainly wouldn’t want to put the esteemed Hand of the King in any… uncomfortable situations.”

Viserys raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the entire spectacle. “From the look of him at the council meeting this morning, I’d say you did exactly that.”

Otto shifted, his cheeks coloring slightly as he fought to maintain his dignity. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle, Your Grace,” he replied, though even he seemed aware of how unconvincing it sounded.

You smirked, stepping a bit closer to Otto, your eyes twinkling. “Well, if nothing else, I must commend you, Lord Otto. You kept up admirably. Perhaps there’s a bit of adventure in you after all.”

Otto inclined his head, clearly trying to hide a faint smile. “I am… adaptable, Princess. And, as I said, I have your well-being to thank for my… involvement.”

Viserys laughed, clapping Otto on the shoulder, which made the older man flinch just a bit. “My sister dragging you through Flea Bottom all night, and now you’re calling it ‘adaptable’? Seven hells, Otto, I think she’s finally wearing you down!”

Otto glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “I can assure you, Your Grace, I remain as steadfast as ever.”

You grinned, folding your arms as you looked at him. “Oh, really? Then perhaps you’ll be up for another outing sometime soon?”

Otto froze, his expression going from steadfast to visibly alarmed in seconds. “Another…?”

Viserys laughed even louder, wiping a tear from his eye as he watched Otto attempt to collect himself. “There’s only so much the man can take, Y/N! Let him recover before you send him back out there.”

Otto managed to compose himself, though there was a wary glint in his eye. “Your Grace, while I am, of course, honored to serve the realm in any way I can, I believe that… one excursion was quite sufficient.”

“Oh, but Lord Otto,” you teased, leaning in slightly, “you handled it so well. Why, I’d say you even looked like you were enjoying yourself by the end of the night.”

He straightened, clearly trying to maintain a sense of authority. “I… was merely ensuring that you enjoyed yourself, Princess. It was my duty.”

Viserys shook his head, thoroughly amused. “Duty or not, I’ll give you this, Otto—you looked far more at ease today than I’ve ever seen you. Maybe Flea Bottom was just what you needed.”

Otto’s mouth twitched in what might have been the faintest hint of a smile, though he quickly hid it. “Thank you, Your Grace. Though I believe I’ll find other ways to relax from now on.”

You and Viserys shared a knowing glance, and as Otto excused himself, you called after him with a smirk. “Rest up, Lord Otto. We wouldn’t want you to fall behind on the next adventure.”

Otto simply nodded, though as he walked away, you could have sworn you saw the barest hint of a smile on his face. Perhaps, just perhaps, you’d managed to chip away a bit of that infamous Hightower reserve. And if he was lucky, maybe he’d survive the next escapade.

Otto lingered at the far end of the courtyard, watching as you prepared for a ride to the Dragonpit, adjusting the straps of your gloves with a look of determined concentration. Beside you stood Ser Arryk, who was checking the saddlebags on your horse and giving the occasional respectful nod as you spoke.

For a moment, Otto considered staying back—after all, it was a rather informal trip, and he’d already spent a fair share of his week… adapting to your unpredictable outings. But then he saw you laugh at something Ser Arryk had said, and before he knew it, his feet were carrying him forward.

“Princess Y/N,” he called, his voice carrying just enough to catch your attention. You turned, mildly surprised to see Otto striding across the courtyard toward you with an air of purpose, his cloak flapping slightly in the breeze.

“Lord Otto,” you greeted, one eyebrow raised in mild amusement. “Did you come to bid me farewell?”

Otto cleared his throat, doing his best to appear nonchalant. “Actually, I thought I might… accompany you. To the Dragonpit.”

Ser Arryk looked between the two of you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, though he quickly masked it. You couldn’t quite hide your grin. “Accompany me? You’re full of surprises these days, Lord Otto.”

Up on a nearby balcony, Alicent and her brother, Gwayne, had noticed the scene unfolding below. Alicent folded her arms, her brow furrowing in concern as she watched her father, who was usually one to avoid dragon pits and horses if he could help it.

“What is he doing now?” Alicent muttered, shaking her head.

Gwayne smirked, leaning against the railing. “Looks to me like Father’s taken quite the interest in the princess. Though from here, he looks as nervous as a lamb in the wolf’s den.”

Alicent rolled her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. A trip through Flea Bottom, and now he’s offering to ride up to the Dragonpit with her? Next, he’ll be riding dragons himself.”

Back in the courtyard, you adjusted your riding cloak, casting Otto an amused glance. “Are you sure you’re up for it, Lord Otto? It’s a bit of a rough path to the Dragonpit.”

Otto gave a nod, doing his best to hide his nerves as he approached his own horse. “I assure you, Princess, I am more than capable of managing.”

Ser Arryk, suppressing a smile, offered Otto a hand as he mounted the horse, clearly aware that the Hand of the King was more accustomed to sitting at council tables than in saddles. After a bit of an awkward scramble, Otto managed to settle himself, holding the reins with a level of determination that could only come from a man with something to prove.

Alicent sighed from the balcony, shaking her head. “Look at him. He’s barely keeping himself upright.”

Gwayne chuckled, giving her a nudge. “Oh, let him try. He looks ridiculous, but he’s stubborn as a mule. Besides, he might actually learn something.”

Back on the ground, you smirked, nudging your horse forward to ride beside Otto. “I must say, Lord Otto, I didn’t take you for a man of the saddle.”

Otto adjusted his grip on the reins, lifting his chin with the same stubborn resolve he usually reserved for council meetings. “There is much, Princess, that you don’t know about me.”

You bit back a laugh, nodding with feigned seriousness. “I’m sure there is, Lord Otto. And I look forward to discovering it.”

As the two of you began the ride out of the courtyard, Otto threw a determined glance back at Ser Arryk, as if silently declaring that he’d manage just fine. The knight simply gave him a nod of respect, though you could see a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

From the balcony, Alicent groaned softly, watching her father’s form growing smaller as you rode off toward the Dragonpit. “If he manages to get through this without falling off that horse, I’ll be amazed.”

Gwayne laughed, giving her a playful nudge. “Oh, come on, Alicent. Perhaps Father’s got a bit of adventure in him yet. Or maybe he’s just a hopeless fool for the princess.”

Alicent shot him a glare, though she couldn’t quite hide her own smirk. “Either way, we’ll see if he makes it back in one piece.”

As you and Otto rode through the winding streets toward the Dragonpit, with Ser Arryk trailing behind, you couldn’t help but notice the unusual glances being cast your way. Smallfolk paused in their tracks, pointing and murmuring to one another as they spotted Otto, clearly recognizing the Hand of the King. The news of his recent “adventure” in Flea Bottom had apparently spread like wildfire, and now he was something of a… curiosity.

A young boy in the crowd squinted at Otto, his eyes going wide. “That’s him, Ma!” he exclaimed, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. “That’s the old man who was in Flea Bottom with the princess!”

The mother’s eyes widened as well, and she gave Otto a look of mingled surprise and admiration. “So it is! Didn’t think he’d be out again so soon.”

Otto’s cheeks flushed slightly as he caught sight of the gawking onlookers. He cleared his throat, doing his best to keep his head high, though it was clear he was slightly unnerved by the growing crowd of people nudging one another and whispering excitedly.

You leaned over with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him. “Seems you’ve made quite the impression, Lord Otto. Becoming a man of the people, are we?”

Otto gave you a sidelong look, struggling to keep his composure. “It seems I may have underestimated the speed with which gossip spreads in King’s Landing.”

“Oh, it’s not just gossip,” you replied with a grin. “The smallfolk have been quite taken by the idea of the Hand of the King braving Flea Bottom at night.”

Just then, an elderly vendor caught sight of Otto and gave him a toothy grin. “Ah! There he is—the Flea Bottom Hero!” She waved an enthusiastic hand, calling out, “Didn’t think I’d see you back so soon, m’lord! Here for another adventure?”

Otto’s grip tightened on the reins, though he managed a polite nod. “Not today, madam,” he replied, his voice as steady as he could muster. “Today, I am merely accompanying the princess on her journey.”

The vendor cackled, clearly unconvinced. “Oh, that’s what you said last time, m’lord! I’d wager you’ll be dancin’ in the taverns again before sundown!”

Ser Arryk, riding just behind you, was doing his best to keep a straight face, though you could see the corners of his mouth twitching with barely contained laughter. Otto shot him a warning look, but it only seemed to amuse the knight more.

As you continued down the street, a group of children began skipping alongside your horses, chanting, “Flea Bottom Otto! Flea Bottom Otto!” much to Otto’s horror and your utter delight.

You leaned over again, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Seems you’ve earned yourself a nickname, Lord Otto. It has a certain… ring to it, don’t you think?”

Otto closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep, measured breath before opening them again, his expression one of resigned patience. “I assure you, Princess, I would prefer a title less associated with… tavern floors.”

You chuckled, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Well, Flea Bottom Otto, if the people love you for it, perhaps it’s a title worth keeping.”

Otto gave you a look that was both exasperated and, surprisingly, a little amused. “If it pleases you, Princess, I suppose I shall… endure it.”

The smallfolk continued to watch and wave, some even bowing as you passed, whispering things like “There goes the Hand who braved the wilds of Flea Bottom!” and “Bless him, riding beside the princess like a true knight!”

One particularly bold young man leaned out of a shop doorway, calling out, “Lord Otto! When are you bringing the Hand’s courage back to Flea Bottom?”

Otto’s expression remained dignified, though his face was growing increasingly red. “At the earliest opportunity,” he replied with a tone so dry it made even Ser Arryk let out a quiet chuckle.

As you finally reached the pathway leading up to the Dragonpit, Otto allowed himself a deep sigh of relief, glancing over at you with a look that was both weary and affectionate. “It seems your influence extends beyond the Red Keep, Princess.”

You grinned, nudging your horse to keep pace with his. “Oh, I can’t take all the credit, Lord Otto. You’re the one who braved Flea Bottom, after all.”

He gave you a resigned smile, but you could see the faintest glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I suppose I must learn to live with this… new reputation.”

You laughed, patting his shoulder as the Dragonpit loomed ahead. “Don’t worry, Lord Otto. I think the title suits you.”

The Dragonpit loomed ahead, a grand and slightly ominous structure where the dragons of House Targaryen rested, their shadows casting an otherworldly feel over the already intimidating stonework. As you arrived, Otto looked warily up at the massive structure, and for just a moment, a flicker of hesitation crossed his usually composed face.

Ser Arryk dismounted, keeping a respectful distance as you strode forward with the confident ease of someone who had walked these paths many times before. Otto, on the other hand, took a more cautious approach, his gaze darting to every creak and clank from within the stone walls. The distinct scent of dragon hung in the air—smoke, ash, and something else Otto couldn’t quite identify, though it set him just a bit on edge.

“Not having second thoughts, are you, Lord Otto?” you teased, glancing back over your shoulder.

He cleared his throat, quickly schooling his expression back to its usual calm. ��Certainly not, Princess. I simply find the… aroma of the Dragonpit to be rather distinctive.”

You chuckled, adjusting your riding gloves as you continued forward. “That’s one way of putting it. Most people just say it smells like smoke and… well, dragons.”

Otto raised an eyebrow, doing his best to appear unfazed, though his eyes darted to the distant roar that echoed from deep within the pit. “A reasonable assessment, I suppose.”

As you approached the great gates, a Dragonkeeper stepped forward and gave you a respectful bow. “Princess Y/N, your dragon is ready. He’s been a bit restless this morning.”

Otto’s face paled slightly at that, though he kept his expression neutral. “Restless, you say?”

The Dragonkeeper nodded solemnly. “Aye, but nothing to worry about, m’lord. Just eager to stretch his wings, I’d wager.”

Otto gave a stiff nod, but his eyes betrayed a hint of apprehension as he cast a quick glance toward the darkened interior of the Dragonpit. Ser Arryk, sensing Otto’s nerves, leaned over and muttered under his breath, “Not feeling quite as ‘adaptable’ now, are we, my lord?”

Otto shot him a glare but said nothing, focusing instead on keeping his head held high as the Dragonkeeper led the way into the pit. You gave him an encouraging smile, which he returned with a somewhat forced, dignified nod.

Inside, the temperature rose noticeably, the walls almost humming with heat as faint tendrils of smoke curled up from deep cracks in the floor. And there, at the far end, your dragon lay coiled like a massive, armored cat, his tail flicking lazily as he caught sight of you.

You approached him confidently, extending a hand to pat his enormous scaled head. The dragon rumbled in approval, lowering his head slightly in greeting. Otto, who was now standing at what he must have thought was a safe distance, watched the interaction with wide eyes, visibly torn between admiration and alarm.

You turned, giving Otto a playful look. “Would you like to meet him, Lord Otto?”

Otto blinked, clearly not expecting this offer. “Meet… him?”

“Yes,” you replied with a grin. “After all, if you’re going to keep joining me on these little excursions, you might as well get to know my dragon.”

Otto hesitated, glancing between you and the dragon’s enormous, yellow eyes, which were currently fixed on him with what might have been mild curiosity—or perhaps hunger. “I… suppose a formal introduction would be appropriate,” he said, his voice just a touch higher than usual.

Ser Arryk smothered a laugh, watching with barely disguised amusement as Otto took a tentative step forward. The Dragonkeeper, clearly used to the reactions of nervous nobles, patted Otto’s shoulder with a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry, m’lord. Long as you don’t look like a snack, you’ll be fine.”

Otto shot the Dragonkeeper a horrified look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, Lord Otto,” you coaxed, patting your dragon’s snout. “He’s harmless… mostly.”

The dragon snorted, a faint wisp of smoke billowing from his nostrils as he eyed Otto with something between boredom and mild interest. Otto swallowed but managed to step forward, his movements stiff as he gave a formal, almost courtly bow—directed at your dragon.

“It is… an honor to make your acquaintance,” Otto murmured, though he looked distinctly uncomfortable as he straightened, keeping one eye on the dragon’s every move.

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. “I don’t think he’s accustomed to courtesies, Otto. You can relax.”

Otto cleared his throat, nodding stiffly. “Yes, well… I find it’s best to err on the side of respect when dealing with… creatures of such, ah… stature.”

The dragon let out a rumbling purr, his eyes half-closing in what seemed like amusement, as though he found Otto’s formality as amusing as you did. Ser Arryk couldn’t hold back a laugh any longer, and even the Dragonkeeper was grinning.

“See, Otto?” you said, giving the dragon a fond pat. “He likes you. If he didn’t, trust me, you’d know by now.”

Otto managed a tight-lipped smile, though his eyes flicked toward the exit with unmistakable relief. “Then I shall consider myself… fortunate, Princess.”

With that, you swung up into the saddle on your dragon’s back, giving Otto one last grin. “Thank you for the company, Lord Otto. It’s been… enlightening.”

Otto, looking both relieved and mildly affronted, gave a deep bow, keeping his distance as the dragon stretched his wings. “It has been my… pleasure, Princess,” he replied, though he still looked ready to bolt at any moment.

With a last wave, you urged your dragon skyward, leaving Otto to watch as you soared off into the sky. Behind him, Ser Arryk shook his head, clapping him on the back.

“Well, Lord Otto,” Ser Arryk said with a grin, “I’d say you’ve handled yourself quite well, all things considered.”

Otto nodded stiffly, his eyes still fixed on the now-distant form of you and your dragon. “Yes, well… one must always be prepared for… unexpected challenges in the realm of courtly duty.”

But as he turned to leave, Otto allowed himself a small, slightly bemused smile. It seemed that being at your side, even amidst dragons and daring escapades, was a challenge he was just beginning to enjoy.

[alexa-fika]

Picky eaters, Tricky givers( Mihawk x gn!sick!child!reader)

A/N: Here is to the anon that requested a sick scenario with mihawk, but my brain farted massively and wasn’t able to understand the request, maybe I ‘ll have something in a bit for you to make up for it 👀 Yall did I or did I not COOK WITH THAT TITLE IM SO SMART AND COOL AND HYPE

I hope you get well soon anon : ( and thank you for your kind words!

Dividers by @/saradika

Mihawk enters his child’s room, ready to awaken them from their long slumber

“Reader, it is now noon; you should not be in bed at this time.”

A groan is all he receives as sniffles escape the bundle of blankets

Mihawk sighs and shakes his head as he starts pulling the mountain of blankets that laid on the bed.

“No matter how often I try, you are so difficult to awake...Come now; it is time to get up.” He said pulling the covers all the way

They groan at the loss of heat, sweat covering their body and face red, heavy breaths leaving the child

Mihawk sharp eyes were quick to notice the sweat covering the child’s body and his flushed red skin.

“You’re ill...” the swordsman states

“Im not…” they mumble, squeezing their eyes tighter before slightly opening them, eyes dazed

The child’s voice was barely audible to Mihawk; having to slightly lean closer to properly make out what they were saying.

Mihawk’s eyes furrow upon hearing his child’s reply and seeing their hazy and dazed eyes.

Even though they tried to deny being sick, it was clear that something was awry.

“That is highly unlikely given your current state,” Mihawk said, glancing at the small child, putting his hand over their forehead gingerly

“Im okay, look, im okay,” they drawled, pulling themselves up

Mihawk’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched his child attempt to get up, Sighing as he put biscuits hands on their shoulders to push them back into the bed

“Lay Down”

“You are clearly unwell; I can see your body temperature rising, and you are drenched in sweat... You are clearly unwell... Do not oppose me on this... I will not allow you to leave your bed until you are in full health,” Mihawk spoke sternly yet calmly.

The navy warlord’s eyes were fixated on his child as if trying to gauge the severity of their health.

“Is this regarding the medicine?”

They pout but don’t respond

Mihawk sighed

“I know you hate the medicine... But you must take it for your own good... ,” Mihawk told them carresing their head

“I don’t need it. Im not sick.”

Mihawk’s gentle caress comes to an abrupt pause when he hears his child’s words. He was clearly annoyed with the denial of the child’s sickness.

However, the child’s feverish responses were not matching with their words.

The child’s temperature was still rising, and they were getting increasingly sweaty.

“You need to hydrate yourself; you have lost too much water overnight, and the medicine.”

“It’s yucky.”

Mihawk lets out a light chuckle as he hears his child speak.

He continues to stroke the child’s hair as he replies, clearly amused by what they have to say.

“You can’t avoid things just because they are distasteful; you must accept things whether they are unpleasant or not... So drink the medicine; it will only take a few seconds.”

Mihawk sighed as they just shook their head, realizing this was not going to get him anywhere; only the same loop would repeat if he were to continue this approach.

“I will let the medicine be postponed for later in the day, but you must consume liquids in the meantime.”

They nod, happy with this development

“Apple juice!”

His child was, at times very stubborn about a lot of things, however their desires were quite simple.

“Very well,” he said, leaving them room and shortly returning with said drink.

Mihawk gently tilts his child’s head back, holding the cup filled with juice above their lips.

“Here, thread carefully, as I do not want you to choke,” Mihawk says with a soft but firm voice.

He awaits for the child to follow his orders.

They smiled, taking quickly, drinking the juice until they realized what they were drinking was not juice at all but the medicine that their father had strategically placed behind the juice, a straw in the cup of medicine rather than the juice.

They scrunch their eyes, moving backwards to spit the liquid out, stopped by their father's hand followed by his gentle touch trailing down his throat, stimulating their swallowing mechanism.

Mihawk chuckles as he watches the child realize that the “juice” was actually the medicine he’d been trying to give them.

Clearly, his methods of trying to get his child to consume the medicine were more effective than previously thought.

“ Perhaps next time you should just drink it the first time; I will make you drink it one way or the other,” Mihawk smirks.

“Meanie!” They exclaimed, digging themselves into their cocoons of blankets, leaving a chuckling Mihawk out of view

“I will leave your drink on the table. Be sure to stay hydrated, but do nor rush it.”

The only response he received was the child poking their head momentarily to stick their to tongue out at him

“I take it that you do not want the beverage? If that is the case, I will simply take it; I would rather not waste resources if you will not drink them.”

“No!” They exclaimed, shooting up, grabbing the drink, and gulping it down, glaring at their father as they did

I get more worried each time I do this that Mihawk is so oc to the point that it doesn’t resemble Mihawk anymore 🙃 Is this still Mihawk? Of course I have to be kind to myself as Mihawk also Isn’t super paternal, maybe to a teen like Perona but maybe not a toddler 😂, what we thinking?

[gingiesworld]

Fatal Attraction

Chapter One

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader/ Wanda Maximoff x Jarvis Stark

Warnings : Fluff. Angst.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda Maximoff, was known as Jarvis Stark's new wife, and NYU graduate, that was all. Once Jarvis had gotten a job at his father's company, Wanda had quickly adjusted to the stay at home housewife. Even after she had done her morning chores and meal preps, she wasted a majority of the day either sitting on the sofa watching TV or just staring out of the window at the bustling city below. Even her latest conversations with Jarvis made her want to retreat from him.

"I think we should try for a baby." He told her as her eyes widened.

"What?" She almost yelled across the table from him.

"We're married now." He stated.

"Barely." She told him as he shrugged.

"I have a steady job and income, we can provide for a baby Wanda." He smiled at her as she shook her head no.

"I don't want a baby Vis." She told him firmly. "I am not ready for that sort of commitment."

"We're already married, Wanda." He told her sternly as Wanda started to clear the table. "I think not being ready for commitment has already passed."

"No." She told him as she squeezed her eyes closed. "Being married is different to starting a family. We are both 22 for crying out loud."

"All the more reason to do it." He told her. "By the time they will be off to college we will just be pushing passed 40, an age to start living our lives again."

"I said no Jarvis." She snarled as he just sighed.

"Just think about it." He requested before he retreated to their shared room. Wanda knew exactly how she felt about the whole children's situation.

Did she see herself as a mother at some point? Yes, just not right now. Not when she has a lot of living to do.

So she made it her mission to reject every advance Jarvis had made. Denying his every need to have intimacy with her. She couldn't really sneakily go on birth control as they now had shared health insurance.

So she had done the next best thing, she had made several resumes and sent them out to multiple organisations, hoping that she may just get herself a job and a way to earn her own money and not have to rely on Jarvis's family fund.

Every day she checked the mail, hoping that she may get an acceptance letter, only receiving polite rejection letters.

"I bet you're going to tell me what the others have said huh?" She questioned as she sat with the envelope in her hand. Taking a deep breath before opening the letter and reading the black ink.

Dear Ms Maximoff

Thank you for your resume, and I am afraid that all departments have been filled. Although, I do have an assistant about to go on maternity leave. It is only a temporary position. If you may be interested, please contact me as soon as possible.

Many regards

Y/N Y/L/N

CEO

Wanda was fast to dial up the number provided, although she had waited for half an hour until she was put through to Y/N.

"Y/N Y/L/N, how may I help you?" They answered.

"Hi, Mx Y/L/N, it's Wanda Maximoff." She rambled nervously. "I was just calling up about the temp position you have available?"

"Hi, Ms Maximoff." They spoke cheerfully. "I do have a full week this week but maybe if you can stop by the office at noon? I have 30 minutes spare for lunch if you're free to do your interview then."

"Yes." Wanda answered excitedly. "Of course."

"Perfect." They answered her. "I shall see you at noon. Don't be late." With that they hung up, just before Wanda squealed. She was excited to have a job prospect so soon, but her excitement didn't last too long when Jarvis came inside with one of her resumes in his hand.

"You know, we have been looking to fill some spots in our tech department and when I noticed this on my desk of potential candidates, I thought that couldn't be my Wanda Maximoff but there is only one Wanda Maximoff in New York." He slammed the paper on the table before him. "What are you even doing Wanda?"

"I am looking for a job." She told him.

"You don't need a job." He told her.

"No, but I want a job." She told him. "I am sick and tired of living the same routine every day. It gets extremely lonely."

"Maybe if we try." He started as Wanda interrupted him.

"I already told you no Jarvis!" She yelled. "I am not ready to be a mother!"

"No one is truly ready to be a parent dear." He tried to approach her when she stepped back.

"No." She told him firmly. "I don't want a baby. Not now."

"Wanda! This is something that is expected when we marry." He told her as she laughed.

"We are not living in the 50s!" She told him. "It is my body and I do not want a child."

"It has to be done Wanda." He told her.

"No it doesn't!" She shouted, starting to get angry with every second he wasn't listening to her. "I am 22, freshly out of college, I should be out partying with friends, working a job I hate to try and make ends meet."

"But you don't have to do any of that." He told her.

"Because we have your father's money?" She spoke with a raised brow. "I want to be able to earn my own way Vis, so please just let me." He just nodded as he walked away, leaving Wanda to clean up the dinner that neither had the appetite to eat.

The next day, Wanda was getting ready for her interview with Y/N. She was extremely nervous as she hasn't had a job since she worked part time in high school at the local cafè. So she made sure she was at the building earlier, sipping on a coffee as she waited for Y/N, already being informed that they were in a meeting.

She soon perked up when a door opened and a large group of people left the room. Waiting to see what Y/N looks like.

"Ms Maximoff." They spoke up as they spotted Wanda. "Follow me." She was fast to follow them into their office. Admiring the view from behind them as they sat at their desk. "So, your resume was quite."

"I know, I haven't really had a job since high school." She told them. "But I graduated at the top of my class in college."

"And you are married." They pointed out as they noticed the gold band on her finger. "And you're 22."

"My husband and I have been together since high school." She told them as they smiled softly.

"Well, he is a very lucky guy." They told her before looking at her seriously. "So, why do you want this job?" They asked her.

"Well, I want to be able to make something of myself, earn my own way." She told them. "It's just that Jarvis expects me to stay at home and birth his children but I don't want that."

"You want to be independent." They pointed out as she nodded. "So why did you marry him?"

"I love him." She answered easily, although at that moment, the words felt like a foreign language on her tongue.

"As easy as that." They pried before realising Wanda's unsure gaze. "Forgive me, that was out of line."

"No." She waved them off before looking up again.

"Well, I guess I can have you start on Monday, Jean will show you the ropes before she leaves on Friday." They told her with a smile.

"I got the job?" She asked them, with shock and confusion in her eyes.

"You got the job." They smiled as she squealed. "Just leave your details, social security number and bank account details with Jean."

"Thank you so much Y/N." She stood up as Y/N walked around the desk.

"Be here Monday, 8am." They smiled at her before opening the door for her, the two approaching Jean. "Do you have the files for my next meeting?" She handed them an A4 manilla file. "Also, can you sort out Ms Maximoff's details for your temporary replacement. She will be shadowing you next week before you leave us to have this little guy." Jean nodded with a smile before Y/N had disappeared down the hall and into the elevator.

"They aren't the easiest to work for." Jean told her. "They are perfectionists."

"I can see that." Wanda smiled as she handed over the appropriate papers.

"But they are loyal to their employees." Jean told her. "That is one thing I can say about them." Wanda was fascinated by them, only meeting them briefly but seeing how smart and sophisticated they seemed. It only drew her in, needing to know more. She found herself thinking about them, even when she was laying in bed at night beside her husband. Her thoughts were innocent but she still felt guilty.

[magics-neptunes-things]

American Dream

Hi guys!

I hope you are well :)

A little story with Alessia, I had several requests in my private messages and I hope you like this one!

Enjoy reading and again my suggestion box is open :)

TW: None

______________________________________________________________

As you drive to New York JFK Airport, you can’t contain your excitement. With catchy music on the radio, you zigzag easily between cars to get to your goal faster. Which makes no sense since it probably won’t make your girlfriend arrive faster, since she’s not the one driving the plane.

But in your defense, it’s been since the beginning of the Christmas holidays that you haven’t seen her and your daily Facetime don’t replace by far the smell of her or her hugs. Since you have only been a couple for a few months, you had organized your holiday parties separately. Alessia stayed in England to celebrate with her family while you flew to New York, from where you come, to celebrate with yours. You hope that next year you will manage to do things differently, but at least you will be able to spend a few days and New Year with Alessia before you take a return flight to London together.

The first time you met Alessia, you quickly found yourself having a crush for the pretty blonde. It was on a football pitch, of course. But when you signed your contract for Arsenal after finishing the one at Real Madrid, you fell in love with her. Her smile, her kindness, her blue eyes and every part of her being, finally.

By incredible luck, these feelings quickly turned out to be shared and it was a real thunderbolt that shook you both. Both singles, you didn’t wait long before asking Alessia for a date, who gladly agreed. You can’t count the moments you shared face to face with her, but you never get tired of it. You were afraid at first that your feelings would go away as quickly as they came, but now it’s been almost six months and they are only increasing.

Alessia’s brother set off on a world tour on 27 December, Alessia flew with her parents a few hours after his departure. However, her parents decided to rent a hotel, offering themselves a romantic stay. Besides, they will leave after Alessia and you.

While waiting for Alessia and her parents to arrive, you check your messages and smile as you see the photos that Beth and Viv sent you of your dog. They are the ones who keep him during your absence and you are happy to see that he seems to get along very well with Myle. The time to answer Viv and go around the waiting hall several times, you finally see a blonde head that you know well pass the last security doors.

Your hesitation to run to take her in your arms lasts a few seconds- she’s with her parents after all. But the smile she gives you when she sees you melts your heart and you hurry to reach her height.

"Hi Honey" sings Alessia making you spin around after you put your arms around her neck.

You laugh softly while letting her do it. You have only one centimeter of difference and it amuses you both to carry the other in this way every now and then. Head in the hollow of her neck, you lay some kisses and breath her before she releases you.

"Hi Princess" you answer back, gently taking her face in your hands so you can look at her.

Private but not secret, your relationship was never revealed. Well, there are very truthful speculations circulating on social networks, but you have never taken the time to deny or confirm all this. What happens between you two is up to you, it doesn’t deprive you of posting some stories or photos together.

However, between that and your in-laws watching you, you refrain from kissing her but not to kiss her cheek, before going to greet her parents. You all agreed that you will drop them off at their hotel and meet again tomorrow at noon for lunch, since the evening is already well advanced. With the jet lag, they will probably have some sleep to catch up.

Giorgio’s world tour is the main topic of conversation during the trip to the hôtel, with New York roads being particularly clogged at this time of evening. You look with amusement at Alessia dozing against the window, while listening to what your in-laws tell you. It doesn’t surprise you from the blonde, she has always been unable to sleep during a plane ride. You still remember Ella teasing her about it, Alessia not having closed her eyes for a minute on the way to Australia for the World Cup.

Alessia wakes up to help you get her parents' suitcases out of the trunk and accompany them to the hotel reception, wishing to make sure everything is in order. After a last reminder of the place and time of appointment for tomorrow, you leave and find your car back.

"Ready?" you ask Alessia after finding your place behind the wheel.

"Mmh almost."

The answer makes you bow an eyebrow, but when the blonde leans in your direction, you quickly understand what’s behind her head. You smile against her lips when she kisses you, grabbing her chin to prolong the kiss for a few seconds.

"Now I’m ready."

A smile still stuck to your lips, you take the road to find your apartment. Located in the center of New York. It’s not very big, but since you almost never live there, it’s more than enough.

"Welcome home" you smile as you close the door to your apartment behind you.

Alessia’s luggage is dropped off near the entrance, letting her soak up the place for now. You take on you not to follow her everywhere, almost desperate at the idea of catching up with all the hugs and kisses you are late.

"It’s pretty" smiled Alessia gently, looking around her.

"It’s an original way of saying it’s terribly lacking in personality" you laugh as you approach her, laying a kiss on her cheek from behind, passing your arms around her waist.

You laugh again, feeling her blush, mumbling that it wasn’t what she meant. You know that this is not a very personalized apartment, again you don’t live here daily. Your souvenirs and photos are in your London apartment.

"Are you hungry?" you ask to change the subject and stop teasing her. You put kisses along her jaw instead.

"A little yes" confesses the blonde while putting her hands on your arms.

"I’ll take care of it. You want to take a shower in the meantime?"

"With pleasure"

Grabbing her hand, you drag her into the bathroom, taking the opportunity to show her your place. It’s quickly done since the ground floor contains the living room, kitchen and dining area and the bedroom is on the mezzanine. The bathroom is also on the ground floor.

After helping Alessia unpack her suitcase and taking out her shower kit, you grab your phone to order in the sushi restaurant located two blocks from your home. You know Alessia’s passion for this and you know they are excellent. You also take the opportunity to change into something more pleasant, leaving your jeans to put on a jogging.

A good half hour later, Alessia finally comes out of the bathroom and you smile at her, amused.

"I thought you drowned."

You laugh when you see her rolling her eyes, but you invite her to join you on the couch on which you are. To pass the time, you turned on the TV and some variety show went on. But the pretty blonde doesn’t pay any attention, choosing to come and sit on your lap. Sliding your hands behind her back, you smile tenderly.

"I missed you" she whispers softly.

"I missed you too. I’m so glad you’re here" you add, smiling, putting a lock of her wet hair back in place.

She smiles at you again and you take advantage of your proximity to put a new kiss on her lips. Both cut off from the world, you get lost in your exchange, finally enjoying your reunion together. More kisses are exchanged and somehow your hands find their way under her shirt, eager for the feeling of her skin. At least, until the doorbell of your apartment rang, startling you both.

"It looks like sushi has arrived" you sigh against her lips, disappointed to have to interrupt your moment.

"Sushi?"

You laugh when you see Alessia’s face light up, almost watching her run to answer the door. Having taken care of paying for the order online, you let her receive your meal and you are content to go get plates to arrange the food.

"Oh god I love you" Alessia mumble, opening the different boxes

"You only say that because I know your favorite command by heart" you say, pulling your tongue and turning back.

You didn’t expect Alessia to jump on you abruptly, making you both fall on the couch that slides a few inches on the floor.

"Lessi" you laugh, trying to get rid of her embrace.

"I forbid you to doubt my feelings like that!"

Her harsh fake air makes you laugh but you raise both hands as a sign of remission.

"Sorry Lessibaby, I won’t do it again"

"You better"

[cartooemcanhis]

Headcanons of nutty and toothy :>

Hehehe!! alrighty!!

Banned from most, if not all stores (if he wants to go shopping hes gotta bring a friend to supervise him)

Noone knows how the heck he ended up like that. He says hes always lived in treetown but noone knew him as a kid and he only started showing himself by the time he was a adult

Hes got a scarily good sense of smell. If you have candy and you think he cant see it, trust me, he can definetly smell it.

Bro is so sticky and gross

Barely ever talks, and when he does its super stuttery and uncomprehensible

Buys totally legal candy from Lifty and Shifty and pays them WAYYY too much money because he has no idea how math works

Sniffles has been trying to find him other interests to distract from Nutty's addiction, but so far its been hard.

Hes the reason scented toys are banned in treetown

He loves running around on all fours

Got rabies from wrestling with a feral animal who happened to have a lolipop. Sniffles has been trying to find a cure for it but for now hes using very temporary fixes.

Most other people in treetown tend to avoid him because they hate him

Stashes candy in his tail and its very icky looking

Often breaks into peoples houses if he sees or smells someone with candy in there. Has to get shooed away with a broom like a cat in an old cartoon

Milk drinker. he drinks milk like water. he goes "oh im thirsty" and then goes to get some milk out of the fridge it is horrifying.

Always lived in treetown!

Hes Handy's cousin! They used to live together and had a little bit of a onesided rivalry when they were kids but its fine now.

WILL deny the surgery allegations. He wants everyone to think his tail is natural but he gets really overly defensive when asked about it so hes doing bad at gaslighting everyone into thinking that. Before he got the inlargement surgery his tail was around the same size as Russells

Hes very sensitive and gets upset easily

The amount of toothbrushes this man owns is insane. HUGE cabinet full of them in a wild variety of colours. He has tons of those really bad singing ones lol.

He likes keeping his teeth really long so he isnt a wood chewer

Very very hyperfixated on Splendid, owns alot of merch and comics (He doesnt have as much as Sniffles though..hes kinda jealous)

His pet tortoise is named Dash! Toothy is blissfully unaware of how violently territorial Dash is with people that arent him lol.

Loves playing dentist!! (he is wanted in 7 states. do not let him near your teeth he has no idea what hes doing.)

thx for hc requests!

[thisantithesis]

little library au — 2.8k words | jegulus

Regulus sighed as he placed another book on the shelf, his attention far away from whatever section he was restocking. Snow was drifting down slowly outside, the late-afternoon dark gray sky making the library seem much gloomier than usual.

The golden lights cast an orange-tinted hue across the shelves and tables while the fireplace crackled gently in its hearth against the wall of the lounge area. The combination of both gave the large and ornate room a warm and comfortable feeling, but didn’t do much in terms of providing sufficient light. Each table had its own lamp, many of which were currently being used by students as they crammed to study for their finals.

Regulus would usually be one of the people sitting at a table in quiet panic, spending so much time there that he would surely be the last one to leave, but instead here he was, slowly making his way through the cart of books that needed to be returned to their rightful place.

He didn’t dislike his job. He really didn’t. If anything, it was the best job he could have right then as a university student, what with its flexible hours and low demands. He popped in four days a week, from noon until six p.m., then left and went back to his apartment. It was an easy schedule, one that allowed him to take his classes in the morning and do whatever he wanted in the evening, which is more than a lot of working students had. It’s just that, as he watched the first snowfall of the year through the large windows of the library, he found that he would much rather be outside, letting the flakes land in his hair and touch his skin with little pinpricks of cold.

Someone had once told him that the snow in his pitch black curls made it look like he had his own little galaxy swirling in his hair. He still thought about it constantly.

So, every year when fall slowly turned to winter, when the weather started getting colder and the world started losing its colorful warmth, Regulus waited with bated breath for that first snowfall. He always made sure to be outside when it happened so he could let a little galaxy form atop his head and reminisce on what he thought were better days.

Placing the last book on its proper shelf, Regulus quickly put the cart away and steadily walked toward the front desk of the library.

“Ms. Pince,” he said as he put his hands flat on the desk in front of him.

“Yes, Mr. Black?” she replied almost tonelessly, her back to him and her head bent over whatever she was working on.

He steeled himself, not necessarily expecting being denied at his request but still preparing for it. Ms. Pince wasn’t known to be lenient. “Would I be able to leave a bit earlier today? I need to study for my finals and I’ve already finished unloading the return cart.”

She slowly turned her head towards where he had placed the cart, lifting an eyebrow as she checked the watch on her wrist. “All right. The library closes in an hour, so I don’t see the harm. Will you be here tomorrow?”

The library closed at seven p.m. on the weekends, and given that it was a Saturday, Regulus was right to think that it would work in his favor. He tried to suppress his little smile of triumph. “Yes, same time as today. My class ends at noon so I should get here at around quarter past.”

The librarian nodded and turned back to her project. “Have a good night, Mr. Black.”

“You as well, Ms. Pince. And thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She simply hummed in acknowledgement and Regulus all but sprinted towards the closet deemed as the “break room”. It consisted of wall to wall shelves filled with ancient and dusty tomes, with a newer addition of a small table, a chair, and some pegs haphazardly tacked onto the back of the door for coats and bags. The room was big enough to walk around in, even with the table, but it was so dusty back there that spending more than fifteen minutes in the room made Regulus’ throat run dry.

He shoved the door open, grabbed his things, then quickly walked towards the library’s side doors. No one really knew about them, given that they were hidden by some of the shelves, so you either found them by looking or accidentally stumbling upon them—which is exactly how Regulus had found them.

He put his coat on as he walked and looped his scarf around his throat tightly, then readjusted the strap of his bag as he opened the doors and stepped onto the freshly fallen snow.

It had been snowing incessantly for the past three hours, and Regulus had hoped it would be one of those first snowfalls that kept going for hours and hours, or at least until there was a decent amount sticking to the ground, and he was glad to see that this year was exactly like that.

Regulus smiled softly and tipped his head back, enjoying the quiet sound of snow falling on his face and the stillness the world around him seemed to adopt whenever winter arrived.

The side doors of the library opened up to a hidden area beside the building, a place Regulus liked to call the Statue Garden. The patch of grass was filled with statues of Greek gods and goddesses, all covered in green branches and moss as a result of the passing of time. Now though, now they were covered in a faint dusting of white, somehow making them look that much more regal.

Regulus closed his eyes against the falling flakes, a serene feeling spreading throughout his chest and slowly unknotting the anxiety that always resided there.

A crunch of footsteps broke through the quiet making Regulus whip his head in the direction of the sound. The thick trees blocked him from seeing whoever was approaching, but soon enough they came into the clearing, causing Regulus to scowl when he saw who it was.

The person continued walking, completely unaware of Regulus standing mere feet away, making his blood boil. Why couldn’t he have one moment of peace?

“What are you doing here?” Regulus demanded, hoping his expression conveyed how unhappy he was with what was happening at the moment.

James Potter stopped in his tracks and looked up, eyes and mouth wide with surprise. He looked like he'd seen a ghost—which, to be fair, he basically had. Regulus hadn’t seen James, his brother, or any of their friends in almost a year and a half now, not since his birthday party last year.

Regulus scowled even harder at the memory, the bitterness in his chest almost overpowering. He raised a brow when James kept gawping at him, already tired of the conversation. The idiot hadn’t even spoken a word and Regulus was done. That had to be a record.

“Potter,” he repeated, this time more sternly to snap the other boy out of his stupor.

“Oh,” James breathed gently, “it’s you.”

Regulus pretended the soft reverence in James’ voice didn’t still affect him after all this time and scrunched his forehead in a look of confusion. “Yes?”

The other boy was quiet for some seconds before speaking up. “Your hair…” he whispered, and that was enough to make Regulus shut down whatever James was going to say next.

“I asked you what you’re doing here.”

That seemed to make James remember himself, closing his mouth with a loud clack of teeth on teeth and an embarrassed scratch to the back of his neck, something he always used to do back—well. Back then. James paused for a second before answering, “Walking?”

Regulus tipped his eyes skyward, hoping for some sort of divine intervention that would save him from having to deal with this conversation. “Yes, thank you, genius. I meant what you’re doing here. At the library. You know I work here.”

The other frowned a little at that, the dimple in his cheek forming just as Regulus remembered. “Well, technically I don’t.”

It was Regulus’ turn to be confused. “What?”

James’ embarrassment seemed to fade in an instant, a look of trepidation replacing it instead. “It’s been a year and a half since I—since we saw you, Regulus. For all we know you could’ve fucked off to a completely different school. I didn’t know you’d be here. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I did,” he said the last part under his breath, but Regulus heard it all the same.

An unexpected flair of hurt ricocheted inside his chest, which only made his resolve harden. “All right, well. How did you find this place then?”

James shrugged, “Like you find any place. By looking.” And almost like he could read exactly what Regulus was thinking, a wry smile formed on his face before saying “Don’t worry, I won’t come back here. Clearly this is your spot, and I wouldn’t want to taint that for you.”

Regulus had never known James to be mean. He could be snappy at times, yes, and was only stern with people when they deserved it, but he was never vicious. Nasty. Petty. Those words and James as a whole just didn’t mix. So when Regulus detected a hint of that vicious poison in James’ tone, whatever olive branch he was thinking of offering burnt to a crisp in his hands.

If that was how it was going to be, then two could play that game.

“Frankly Potter, I could care less where you go or don’t go. I left for a reason, yeah? So you can fuck off back to wherever it is you just came from and we can call this conversation quits. No need to put ourselves through more misery than we need to.”

James scoffed and looked to the ground, shaking his head with a smile of disbelief. “Still haven’t changed one bit I see,” he looked back up, straight into Regulus’ eyes. “Alright then, Black, have a good night, yeah? Glad that we could have this conversation.” He saluted Regulus with two fingers to his temple, then promptly turned around and walked back out the same way he walked in.

Regulus was left standing there with his heart beating out of his chest and that same hurt still ever-present between his ribs. He’d never seen James get that vicious, nor been on the receiving end of one of his mean bouts. He’d always been nice to Regulus, spending time with him when Sirius was busy or asking him questions about whatever book he was reading at the time.

He’d liked James, even to the point of developing a crush on him, but that had been cut short when everything went to shit on his 21st birthday. He found it funny how he was supposed to be celebrated that night, but instead found himself ostracized from his friends and lost the only part of his family he’d ever actually loved.

It was his own fault, in a way, but he couldn’t help how he still held onto this grudge of bitterness and anger towards the whole situation, and especially the people involved.

But they had their own lives now and so did he, with new friends and new goals—goals that brought him far, far away from this town. He shook himself and shoved his hands in his pockets, only now registering the cold that seeped into his skin.

Regulus looked around himself, the snow now falling in thicker flakes and the darkness of the evening creeping closer around him. Bad memories fresh at the surface, the first snowfall didn’t seem so magical anymore.

He scowled at his own thoughts and stomped out of the clearing, resolutely deciding that he was going to go back to his apartment and bury himself in his studies. He wouldn’t have a chance to think about things he didn’t want to if he crammed his head full of chemical formulas.

–

Two weeks.

Two weeks was all it took before Regulus saw James again. He was working his usual shift, reorganizing the historical fiction section of the library after students all but ransacked the shelves trying to look for whatever book it was they needed, when one of the freshmen also working that day came up to him saying Ms. Pince wanted to see him up at the front.

He sighed and put down the book he was holding, counting down the minutes before he was able to go outside to the statue garden again. Regulus liked to sit there and sketch the statues from different angles. Each day they looked a bit different, from snow having melted off or freshly fallen throughout the previous night, so he sat there and tried to capture their likeness as best he could.

Of course he hadn’t forgotten what happened in the garden not ten days prior, that short interaction with James all but burned into Regulus’ brain. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the vitriol he heard in James’ voice that night, especially because it was aimed at him. He wasn't saying it wasn’t deserved—God knows he deserved much worse than that—but it was almost like there were two different versions of James in his brain now. One before Regulus’ 21st birthday, and one after.

He couldn’t really blame James, though. He was sure that if he were to waltz right back into his brother’s life right then, Sirius wouldn’t have even recognized him. Which was probably for the best, honestly.

Regulus was still lost in thought when he approached the front desk, which was the only reason why he hadn’t immediately seen who was standing right next to it. “You called for me, Ms. Pince?”

The woman turned around, her severe stare landing on Regulus over her glasses. “Ah yes, Mr. Black. Since you are my longest standing student helper here, I was hoping that you could help show Mr. Potter how we do things here. He will only be working with us for a short period of time, but I expect him to know his way around nonetheless."

Absolute dread washed down Regulus' spine in that moment, his head slowly turning to look at the person standing to his right. Sure enough, James Potter was standing there in the flesh, with a look on his face that clearly showed how unhappy he was with the situation. He tried to put on his usual charming smile for the librarian, but Regulus could see through his bullshit a mile away.

“I take it you boys already know each other?” she asked them with a raised brow when neither of them spoke up, looking between the two boys as if ready for a fight to erupt at any moment.

James looked away and cleared his throat, breaking the weird staring contest he and Regulus found themselves in. “Ah, erm, yes, we do. I’m... friends with his brother.”

“Good! Then I can leave you to your own devices. Mr. Potter, if you would please sign these papers before you start. They are just to confirm the amount of hours you will be working with us over the next six weeks.”

James nodded and bent down over the paper, reading the text and chewing at the end of the pen in his hand. Regulus scrunched his nose at the action, a bit disgusted that he would put a publicly-used object in his mouth, but ultimately turned back towards the librarian. “Ms. Pince, are you sure there’s no one else that can show him around? I was already busy with the historical fiction section and there’s still so much left to do.”

Regulus wasn’t one to complain about things, usually taking them on the chin and simply pushing through so he could get them done as soon as possible, but he would've rather been caught dead before spending six weeks teaching James Potter of all people how to stack books. He was ready to forget their interaction two weeks ago and move on like nothing happened, but clearly the universe wasn’t on his side with this one.

How utterly perfect.

Most likely having heard Regulus, James tried and failed to hide his laugh, but Regulus could see his smug smile tucked away behind his palm. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Ms. Pince, praying and hoping she would (unknowingly) help him out just this once.

“I’m sorry Mr. Black, but you are the person best suited for the job. If you have any quarrels with each other, I suggest you get them sorted out now as I expect them to not interfere with your work,” she said with an air of finality before promptly turning around and walking back into her office.

Regulus barely held back a scoff at her expectations. Yeah, not bloody likely.

“Well Black, might as well get this over with, yeah?” James said with a smug look on his face, one Regulus was moments away from wiping off with a swift punch to his cheekbone.

Instead he curled his fingers into a fist, wishing he could be literally anybody else.

[mercless]

@windchaser requested I fill out a relations meme for high noon yone from talon's perspective, and I am nothing if not indulgent. and then I went and found the original post...

Attractiveness: 

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Let it be known that Talon will be the first creature to point out Yone's flaws after himself but we'll work on that but there's really nothing they can poke at with his looks, besides the undead elephant in the room. Even then though, 'lookin' good for a corpse' can easily be a backhanded compliment spun a hundred annoying ways. I'm not 100% certain on how you portray how Yone's spirit appears, but it is certainly a frightful thing to see. Demons are known to be afraid of gunslinger's, but usually not like this...

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

Drags claws down face. This son of a nice lady. Talon has seen many cowboys like Yone; Selfless, determined, stuck in their moral code like tar to a feather, standing up for what they believe is right! The other thing they all have in common is being gone well before their time, y'know. Not everyone gets to stick around past that deciding incident, and have a chance for their one-pure heart to begin rotting. It's the kind of thing to draw in the worst sorts from everywhere, to prod and poke at the soft parts to see what snaps, and what withers away faster. It's a relief Yone only keeps good company.

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

I can only picture them posing in the background of Yone's reaction to this question, a shit-eating grin and a raised brow. You're kidding, right?

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends (in denial) || good friends (huh...) || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person (and denying it in unison) || would die for them (later on- wait what?!) || true friends || my only friend

Talon hasn't had a real friend before, not ones that are or were mortal anyway. They definitely have 'friends' that can fight and most likely best them, though. All to say, they're not exactly good at this whole new thing. Best if they both keep their distance and try to get this quest of theirs over and done with as quickly as possible to go back to tormenting and threatening to kill the other, respectively. Or fail and then it's over, too.

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird (fascinated) || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them (derogatory) || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool (derogatory) || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them (derogatory!) || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Steeples my fingers evilly. Oh, that Crossroads Saloon is full of entertainment, so kind of the old barkeep to set something up tailor-made for their enjoyment. A twisted soul like his is a rare sight, even for their ancient eyes. Sorry Yone, it's just their nature to cause a little trouble. Think of it as a little taste of what's to come... afterwards.

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much (affectionate...) || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird (still fascinated) || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them (shh) || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

It's a full-time job, being a gunslinger's biggest annoyance and also a supportive shoulder for him to lean on. It seems fitting that the cursed cowboy gets a guardian angel that only fits the role on a technicality. Talon's still afraid of him and his promise before their truce. But not as much as their growing care for him.

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

Even if it's walking around, mighty strange to kiss a corpse...

A little something for the little witch;

Attractiveness: 

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Talon rarely sees young people like her, or any younger. It's like a 'oh, right!' reminder to their existence. That despite it all, life miraculously continues on. Her naivety and wide-eye reaction to new experiences are cute, plain and simple. But beyond that her looks are not at the forefront of the demon's mind, usually preoccupied with her latest question, or admiring her metalwork and wondering if they can ask their own questions about it.

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible 

As much as the thought of being asked countless questions sounds irritating, Talon just cannot find it in their black-ichor heart for Rell to be annoying with her endless quest of learning. It makes it difficult to keep things under wraps they would otherwise keep close and hidden. They like hearing her own ideas too, finding this strange place where... they choose to carry a conversation with her about their findings and theories. And although she's young and inexperienced, Rell is still very powerful with her magic and raw talent. This all makes Talon uncomfortable, in how easy it is for them to get along...

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Just no. there are better things in life Talon can waste their time doing than calculating how many times over they are older than the young witch. But please, ask them for more advice on romance, and heed it well; a blade from a place of love has a lot of mean- wait where are you going?

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends (?) || my only friend

Head in hands none of you (the two of them) will ever understand what it's like to be a thing made of evil and then care for another creature's wellbeing. This is worse than Talon's fear that one day they'll be hunted down by the powder witch and the haunted gunslinger because unlike that, this care is a new feeling. It doesn't need to be said, but Rell is the first Talon considers a real friend. They don't care to ask if the feeling is mutual.

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

First introductions could have been far smoother without someone interrupting, but regardless, the girl has a sensible, if cross, head on her shoulders. And Talon can respect it. Whether this was before or after Yone's influence, they cannot tell, but it is still there in subtle ways. She certainly takes their journey down a different path than the demon was expecting, but they're more concerned about how her inclusion makes the gunslinger even more difficult to maneuver around. They can totally be trusted to ride Sebastian, though. It's a long, rough road by foot...

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them (platonically, in a carer way...) || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

there's gotta be better ways to practice romantic techniques out on the range. But if you're ready to listen to more romantic advice-

rating meme