#that one i'm really struggling with at the moment.

[chaotic-scraps]

The audience roared, the energy electrifying.

"And there he is, folks! The Scarlet Fist! Our reigning champion remains undefeated!"

Jay panted from the center of the amphitheater, slick with sweat and blood. He smiled and licked the blood from his knuckles, eyes wild.

"What's this? A new challenger approaches! It's none other than the Sandstorm! He is the reigning regional champion two years running, but does he stand a chance against our all-time champion?!"

A sand mage sauntered into the ring. Powerful, cocky. A showboater. Jay let him demonstrate his power, twisting and forming the sand into a dragon. He flew atop the dragon and spewed balls of sand that blew craters into the ground and boundary walls. The audience cheered.

Jay rolled his shoulders. The sand mage had fans in the crowd. He should play around a bit and make it look like a challenge. One of the sand balls flew in his direction and he dodged. Then another, and another.

A snake made of sand came into form and coiled around Jay, stopping him from evading. Jay pretended to struggle in the snake's grip. The audience loved drama. He punched through the snake's body and the sand crumbled where he touched.

Spikes emerged from the ground, and Jay managed to evade mostly. He didn't think the audience noticed a bit of the spike crumbled away before it could pierce his foot.

Half of the snake struck again, and Jay yet again dodged. The snake hit the floor and burst into a mound of sand.

The mage swooped down with his sand dragon. A fatal mistake. Jay leapt on top of the dragon, and it crumbled mid-flight. They both tumbled and rolled onto the ring.

The mage stumbled back, exposed.

"Y-you must be cheating!" The mage shrieked. Jay laughed, because of course he was. This mage was woefully green. Jay tried to prolongue the fight a bit longer before punching out the unfortunate young fighter.

"Who else wants a piece?" Jay taunted.

--

It was a good day in the ring, and Jay had full pockets. He took his win to the local bar and was enjoying the open tab from his latest admirer. He was downing a pint when a young man slid into the chair beside him. The young man hardly looked the type for fighting rings, too nervous and too bookish, but Jay had seen all types. Possibly with coin.

"Business or pleasure?" Jay asked with a crooked smile.

"I-I know your secret," the young man stammered.

For a moment, Jay's smile flickered. "Oh, you think so?"

"You're no mage," the young man said, adjusting his glasses. "You're a walking power dampener. An, um, impressively powerful one, at that." He shrunk a little at the wild look in Jay's eye.

Jay's eyes darted around, and he grabbed the young man by his scruff.

"Keep your voice down," he growled. "Who sent you?"

"No one," the young man said. "I... I need your services."

"Business, then."

Jay released his hold. The young man smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.

"Uh, well, m-my name is Lucas," the young man stammered. "I... I'm a student at Wingcrest University, and I'm studying for my Greater Healing degree with a concentration in Healing Ethics. Particularly, my thesis sheds light on the misuse and abuse of healing magic, as well as dangerous magic practices that are unfortunately commonplace."

He shifted. "Most healing centers deal with surface injuries and cosmetic healing and neglect internal injuries or cause clots from dangerously rapid healing. This is common knowledge among Healers, but it's largely considered a necessary evil that occasionally we'll lose some patients. I wanted to argue for stricter policies and show that such tragedies are, in fact, avoidable." He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve and bit his lip.

Jay rolled his eyes and groaned. He was going to get this kid's life story. He wasn't really interested in the inner workings of Healing Magic, and an attractive patron across the way was exchanging flirtatious glances at him.

"Sorry, I, uh, tend to ramble," Lucas mumbled. "S-so, um. During my research I stumbled upon a dangerous conspiracy. Depreciating healing magics."

"Where do I come in?" Jay asked, patience thin, eyes elsewhere."

"Oh. Yes." Lucas pulled back the collar of his shirt. "I-I may not look it, but I've, uh, been afflicted with a Wasting Curse. Are you familiar?"

Jay glanced over the sunken black and purple handprint, a hallmark of the Wasting Curse. "I've seen it in the ring. You need a Disenchanter," he said. "You should have no problem paying, being a student of Wingcrest. Get it treated sooner rather than later. It's not something to ignore."

"I-I've been," Lucas said. "To several."

"Well, yeah. It takes a few days to reverse." Jay said. "You need to be patient and follow your healer's advice."

"You don't understand," Lucas grit. "I've been to three different Disenchanters who claimed they can help me. But... The curse was custom-made, a variant they could have never possibly encountered before. It uses a form of malicious regeneration interlocked with my healing magic. A fitting punishment for my meddling."

Jay passed his glass back to the bartender for a refill. "So what does that mean?"

"Trying to remove the Wasting makes it spread," Lucas explained. "Each Disenchantment brings the curse closer to my heart."

"Listen, kid, that's awful," Jay said, "That really is. But what do you want me to do about it? You need a professional."

"I need a bodyguard, first of all," Lucas said. "Someone unaffected by magics."

Jay fixed him with a long, tired stare. "I'm not a body guard. Check the guild nearby."

Jay moved to slip away from the booth, but Lucas grabbed his arm. "I also need a strong power dampener. Someone who can block my magic and slow the spread of the curse."

"They sell power dampeners everywhere nowadays," Jay said dismissively.

"Yours is extremely, exceptionally powerful," Lucas said with a note of desperation. "I could fill an entire amphitheater with power dampeners to achieve a fraction of what you are. Whoever cast it on you was a master of the craft."

The flirtatious patron cast a final glance before leaving. Jay flopped back to his chair with a sullen expression.

"Listen, I know this isn't... How you want to spend your evening," Lucas worded tactfully. "But this is life or death for me, and I am willing to pay you very, very handsomely. Name your price."

"Give it a rest, kid," Jay sighed. "Just... I'm not a bodyguard. I have shows scheduled. I can't just walk out in the middle of a season."

"But I--"

He drained another pint. "And you're right, you do ramble," Jay grumbled. "You give me a headache." He patted him on the back and shoved past. "Good luck, kid."

"I'll tell," Lucas said.

Jay stopped in his tracks. "...What?"

"I'll tell everyone your secret."

Jay set his jaw, and turned with a raw fury. He grabbed the young man and pushed him back into the bar counter.

"You want to die tonight?" Jay hissed.

"You left me no choice," Lucas hissed back.

They stared each other down. Lucas shivered.

"You... You might as well," Lucas whispered, his voice cracking. "I'll be dead soon anyway." His lip quivered. "I'll be dead by morning."

Jay's anger faded. He took a deep breath and righted the young man, and smoothed out his rumpled shirt.

"Don't cry," Jay said. "Don't..." He shushed him.

Lucas made a good effort, trying to hold it in. This wasn't exactly the place for tears. He choked a bit and a sob escaped.

"I'm going to die, and so, so many people are going to die, because it's more profitable to keep them sick," he whispered. "They don't want my research getting out, and I'm not going to be able to save anyone."

"Oh... Shoot." Lucas's knees gave out, and Jay caught him just barely. He could feel his shirt get moist, and he gently patted his head. "Shoot, kid."

"All good, Jay?" The bartender called out.

"Yeah," Jay called back.

"Something for the kid?"

"I'm 27 years old," Lucas grumbled, wiping his eyes. "I'm not a kid."

"Yeah, grab one for the..." Jay paused for a double-take. "Wow, really? 27?" He eased the young man into a chair.

"I mean, I'm in graduate school," Lucas muttered. "...Was."

"Okay, yeah." Jay scratched his chin. "Listen, fine, I'll help you out. I'll tell my manager I have an injury from the last match and take the flack. In return, I need half up front."

"R-really?" Lucas lit up.

They discussed the amount and terms of payment over drinks.

"I appreciate your cooperation," Lucas said.

"And one more thing," Jay said, very somber. "This is very, very important."

Lucas nodded.

"Don't tell anyone about the whole... Power thing," Jay said. "I mean it."

Lucas frowned. "I will uphold my end if you uphold yours. I am a man of my word."

"... Fine, I'll take that," Jay said.

You are a gladiator that can win fight after fight against even the most powerful wizards. Your secret? You were cursed as a kid to nullify any magic that came close to you.

[mya-valentine]

Hi! it's me again! I'd like to request a few genshin men/boys and most of them are my favs like at least like 14 of them😂 fluff please

I wanted to request a Diluc, Razor (it's fine if you don't do him, but I'm pretty sure he's at least 16 or 17) Xiao, Wanderer, Cyno, Al Haitham, Neuvillete, Kinich, Ororon (there's lack of Ororon love) and Dainsleif. I wanted the headcannon to be like:

their friends asking fem!reader: What do you see in him?

reader: he makes me laugh

i wanted to see this kind of headcannon for so long (i hope it's okay if i can request this much character😅)

Headcanon: He Makes Me Laugh

Diluc

At a cozy café in Mondstadt, you and your friends sit around a small table, sharing stories over steaming cups of tea. One of your friends leans in, eyebrows raised. “Diluc? Really? What do you see in him?”

You take a moment to think, a smile creeping onto your face. “He makes me laugh,” you finally reply.

Your friends exchange skeptical glances. “Diluc? The serious, brooding one? How does that even work?”

You lean back in your chair, recalling a recent night at the tavern. Diluc had been tending bar when a customer made a ridiculous drink request. With a straight face, he had leaned over to you and said, “If I serve one more ‘secret drink’ request, I might just invent a potion to erase memories of it.”

You burst into laughter, and he shot you a quick, playful smirk, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. The moment had felt electric, a fleeting glimpse of the softer side he rarely showed anyone else.

As you reminisce, you can’t help but grin, feeling warmth in your chest. “He’s got this dry wit that surprises me. You just have to know where to look.”

One friend rolls her eyes. “Okay, I can see it. But how do you get him to show it?”

You shrug playfully. “Maybe he just needs someone to break through the brooding exterior.”

Diluc, standing nearby, overhears your laughter and smirks, catching your eye with a knowing look, as if he appreciates the affection behind your words.

Razor

Your friends are gathered in your room, sprawled on the floor as you all catch up. Suddenly, one of them narrows their eyes and asks, “You’re with Razor? What do you even talk about?”

You can’t help but giggle at the question. “Oh, you have no idea. He makes me laugh!”

Your friends exchange confused looks. “Razor? The one who spends all his time with wolves?”

You nod, recalling a beautiful morning walk you took with him through Wolvendom. “The other day, we were watching the sunrise. He looked at it, wide-eyed, and said, ‘Looks like egg yolk spilled.’ And then he asked, ‘Why do people say ‘crack of dawn’? Dawn don’t break…’”

Your friends burst into laughter, imagining Razor’s serious face juxtaposed with his innocent, childlike observations.

“He’s not trying to be funny, but he has this way of looking at the world that’s just… refreshing,” you explain, a soft smile on your lips as you think about him.

One friend grins, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I guess if you’re into that… unique perspective.”

Razor, who has been listening from the doorway, looks a bit confused but intrigued. “I like egg yolk. It is good food,” he adds earnestly, causing another round of laughter.

Xiao

In a quiet corner of Liyue Harbor, your friends sit across from you, disbelief painted on their faces. “Xiao?” one asks, incredulous. “But he’s so… intense and brooding! What do you see in him?”

You chuckle, leaning back in your chair. “He makes me laugh,” you respond, shaking your head at their expressions.

Your friends exchange skeptical glances, clearly struggling to understand how someone as serious as Xiao could ever be funny. “Seriously?” one of them challenges. “How?”

You remember a day when you and Xiao were training together on the mountain. As you stumbled over a loose rock, he caught you just in time, and without missing a beat, he said, “Are mortals always this clumsy?”

You had burst out laughing at his deadpan delivery, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “He doesn’t mean to be funny, but his honesty is refreshing,” you explain, smiling at the memory.

Your friends nod, starting to see your point. “Okay, I can see how that would be amusing.”

Just then, Xiao approaches, overhearing the conversation. He raises an eyebrow. “You laugh a lot around me. Is that good?”

You grin, meeting his gaze. “Absolutely! It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Xiao looks slightly flustered but turns away, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual stoicism.

Wanderer

Strolling through a quiet clearing with your friends, one of them shoots you a concerned glance. “So… Wanderer? The same guy who’s known for his prickly attitude? What exactly do you see in him?”

You smirk, already used to the question. “He makes me laugh,” you say simply.

They look skeptical, one raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?”

You nod, smiling at the memory of a recent encounter. Wanderer had once muttered something about the “absurdity” of people who thought they knew everything about him. He’d followed it up with, “Honestly, they know less about me than that rock does about erosion.” He’d pointed at a boulder, then turned to you, daring you to laugh. But you couldn’t help it—you cracked up, and he’d rolled his eyes, but with the faintest hint of a smile himself.

Your friends seem taken aback. “Wait, Wanderer said that?”

Just then, Wanderer appears, crossing his arms as he approaches. “Are you sharing my profound observations with these mortals?” he asks, feigning annoyance, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he glances at you.

You grin, meeting his gaze. “I can’t help it. You’re just so funny.”

He scoffs, muttering something about “annoying people,” but the faintest smile betrays him, earning a knowing look from your friends.

Cyno

After a long day, you and your friends gather at a cozy teahouse. One of them finally leans in with a curious look. “Cyno, though? Isn’t he a little… intense? What do you see in him?”

A grin spreads across your face as you think of Cyno’s well-meaning, if occasionally dreadful, sense of humor. “He makes me laugh.”

Your friends look surprised, clearly doubtful. “Cyno? Are you sure? He’s the General Mahamatra!”

You laugh at their disbelief. “Yes, that Cyno. Once, he tried to tell me a ‘joke’ about Teyvat’s elemental reactions. ‘Did you know Pyro and Hydro make steam…y results?’” You can’t help but laugh at the memory, and your friends blink at you, processing.

Then one snickers, and another gives in. “Okay, that’s actually—unintentionally funny.”

As if summoned, Cyno appears at the table. “Did I hear mention of… humor?” he asks with utmost seriousness, casting a proud look your way. “I have another one. What did the dendro traveler say to the withering zone?”

You grin knowingly, but your friends glance at each other nervously. “What?” they ask in unison.

“��Leave it to me,’” Cyno deadpans, straight-faced. You burst out laughing, your friends struggling to hold back their smiles. Cyno raises an eyebrow, satisfied. “See? I told you humor is a valuable asset.”

Alhaitham

Gathered at the Sumeru Library, your friends can’t hide their disbelief. “Alhaitham? What do you even see in him?” one of them exclaims, shaking her head.

You grin, leaning back in your chair. “He makes me laugh.”

“Really? The stoic scholar?” they ask, bewildered.

You reminisce about a quiet evening when you found him deeply engrossed in a book. You had asked, “What’s so interesting?” He glanced up and replied, “The existential dread of characters in fiction is quite entertaining. They can’t even do anything about it.”

His deadpan delivery made you laugh, and he’d raised an eyebrow, confused by your reaction. “You find that funny?” he’d asked, genuinely perplexed, which only made you laugh harder.

Your friends start to nod, clearly amused. “Okay, maybe he has a point there.”

Alhaitham, overhearing your laughter, approaches with an amused glint in his eye. “I see you’re discussing literature. Should I be concerned?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Only if you’re worried about being funny.”

He smirks, unfazed. “Then I have nothing to worry about.”

Neuvillete

In the refined atmosphere of Fontaine’s opera house, your friends question your attachment to Neuvillette, the reserved Chief Justice. “So, what do you see in him?” one friend asks, an eyebrow raised. “Neuvillette’s so… solemn. He barely smiles.”

You chuckle, casting a glance at the grand stage. “But that’s the thing. He makes me laugh when I least expect it.”

Your friends exchange looks, clearly unconvinced. “Really? Neuvillette?”

You nod, remembering a moment from an evening much like this one. Neuvillette had been watching an opera, his typical composed expression in place, when he leaned over and whispered, “I find it curious that, despite its grandeur, this aria is about a fish lamenting her lost pond. Dramatic, isn’t it?” His understated humor and subtle wit had made you stifle a laugh, though he looked pleased with your reaction.

One friend’s eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, he actually jokes? In his own way?”

At that moment, Neuvillette arrives, having overheard the conversation. “I merely observe the world as it is,” he says with a faint, almost invisible smile. “I trust I’ve provided adequate amusement?”

You smile up at him warmly, while your friends look at each other, slowly starting to see his appeal. “Yes,” you reply, reaching for his hand. “You certainly have.”

Kinich

As you and your friends stroll through the bustling markets, one of them nudges you, raising an eyebrow. “So… Kinich? He’s got that cold, intense vibe. What do you see in him?”

You chuckle, picturing the man who, beneath his pragmatic exterior, occasionally revealed a dry, clever humor that caught you off guard. “He makes me laugh,” you reply, smiling.

Your friends blink, visibly unconvinced. “Kinich? The Kinich? The guy who talks like every word is a business contract?”

“Trust me, he’s funnier than you think.” You recall a time when you had teased him about always being so serious. He had given you a mock-stern look and said, “Seriousness is simply efficiency applied to communication. If I were to, say, laugh needlessly, it would be inefficient—unless, of course, you think I’m funny?” His tone had been deadpan, but you had caught the sparkle in his eyes, which only made you laugh harder.

One of your friends scoffs, half amused, half disbelieving. “He’s secretly funny? Now that I have to see.”

Just then, Kinich appears, drawn by the sound of laughter. He stands with his usual composed expression, his gaze steady as he glances at you. “Am I interrupting?” he asks, though his eyes linger on yours with a warmth your friends would never guess at.

“Not at all,” you reply, a mischievous smile on your lips. “We were just talking about how funny you are.”

A single brow arches, and he replies smoothly, “If efficiency in humor is what amuses you, then I suppose I’ve succeeded.”

Your friends stare, open-mouthed, as he gives a faint smile, the smallest show of his affection reserved just for you.

Ororon

Gathered in a quiet grove just outside the bustling village, your friends share stories, each of them glancing at you with barely concealed curiosity. Finally, one of them speaks up. “Ororon? Really? He’s so… unconventional. What do you see in him?”

You smile, looking down at the wildflowers in your hand. “He makes me laugh.”

They seem taken aback, sharing doubtful glances. “Ororon? But he’s so… odd. He even lives out in the woods by himself. Isn’t he a little too eccentric?”

You laugh softly, thinking of all the moments Ororon’s uniqueness had brightened your days. “Maybe. But he’s more observant than anyone I know.” You recount a day spent walking with him through the forest, where he had pointed out a bird with feathers the color of storm clouds and said, with absolute conviction, “Look at him, he’s judging us. Clearly, he’s unimpressed with our lack of feathers.” You’d laughed, and he had given you a small, playful smile.

One friend smirks, shaking their head. “You actually find him funny?”

Before you can answer, Ororon appears, emerging from the trees with his usual easygoing stride. “Are we discussing birds?” he asks, his expression calm as he settles beside you. “I could have sworn I saw a bird earlier that looked particularly snobbish. Perhaps it’s you it dislikes.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand as your friends chuckle, finally starting to understand his strange charm. “Exactly,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze.

Ororon gives a satisfied hum, his eyes meeting yours. “See? Nature understands us well.” And in that moment, your friends see how the quiet humor of this eccentric man makes him so dear to you.

Sitting on a rooftop overlooking the stars, your friends are still trying to wrap their heads around your choice. “Dainsleif? Really? What do you see in him?” one asks skeptically.

Dainsleif

You smile softly, reflecting on your experiences. “He makes me laugh.”

Your friends look puzzled. “But he’s so serious and mysterious!”

You recall a late night when you were stargazing together. He had shared tales of his travels and then abruptly said, “In the end, I find that stars are just like people. Some are bright, some are dim, and some are just… lost.” Then, after a pause, he added with a straight face, “But at least they all shine, even if it’s just for a moment.”

You had burst into laughter at his unexpected metaphor, and he’d turned to you, a hint of confusion in his eyes as he asked, “Is that amusing?”

You nod, a warm smile on your face. “Yes! It’s all about perspective with you.”

Your friends nod, starting to see the appeal. “Okay, that’s a bit poetic.”

Dainsleif, overhearing the conversation, walks over with an amused look. “If my musings provide amusement, then perhaps I should share more.”

You grin. “Please do! We could all use a little more humor.”

.

.

.

Masterlist

[leilanihours]

# ABOUT YOU

pairing: paige bueckers x reporter!reader

word count: 1389

warnings: none !

summary: paige reunites with her favorite reporter.

⭑ from lani: first fic in literal MONTHS!! sorry for the unexpected hiatus ☹️ but we are so back (hopefully) also idk if i love this or hate this i was just inspired by the dub today

masterlist !

"THE UCONN HUSKIES are your 2025 ncaa champions!"

colorful confetti falls blissfully from the ceiling of the sold-out arena, the scene playing out like the end of an award-winning movie.

joyous screams and celebrations fill your ears as  the team jumps up and down, taking pride in their hard work and well-deserved win.

you can't help but smile brightly at the girls in front of you. you knew the effort they put into this season, you knew of the adversity they faced leading up to this moment.

it didn't feel right for you to be standing here with them considering you weren't an official part of the team, but you were damn grateful that you were here.

after a few minutes of compliments, hugs, and pictures, paige bueckers pulled you aside from the large group.

"hey," she greets loudly, still loosely grasping your hand, “where you been?”

“what do you mean? I’ve been here all game?” you say, puzzled by her question.

“i haven’t seen you since the regular season ended.”

“oh i stayed at school for most of the tournament,” you explain, “i was only assigned to report for this game. why?”

“i dunno,” paige shrugs with a smirk, “i’ve just been missing my favorite interviewer, that’s all.”

“careful, bueckers,” you warn, mirroring her teasing experession.

“so we doing an interview or what?”

"you want to? right now?“ you ask, surprised.

"'course i do," she says, "long as you're the one asking me the questions."

"okay obsessed..." you joke with a laugh.

“man, just shut up and talk sweet to me," she rolls her eyes playfully.

"so that's the reason you wanted me to interview you?" you deadpan.

“i mean…kinda?” she laughs, causing you to jokingly walk away from her, “i’m playin, i’m playin,” she grabs your arm and gently pulls you back to her, this time a little closer than before, “i just wanna talk to you.”

“you just won a natty and you want to talk to me about the technicalities?” you ask, confused.

“yes and no,” she offers, “I just wanna talk to you, is that so wrong?”

"alright, whatever, let's do it,” you giggle, making paige’s eyes brighten immediately.

once you called over your assigned camera crew, you picked up your mic and began the interview.

"i'm here with uconn superstar, paige bueckers, who just carried her team all the way to a national championship, and tonight i have the honor of speaking with her about her experience."

"hey, y/n," she smirks down at you with her hands behind her back.

"hi, paige," you blush, "so, this is the first national championship win for the women's program at uconn since 2016, what does it mean to you that you were part of the team that brought that title home?"

"it means a lot to me, truly," she starts thoughtfully, "it's been a bit of a struggle to make that stretch all the way to the end. we've gotten real close these past few seasons, but unfortunately we weren't able to close it out. this time around, though, with all my amazing teammates, it tastes a little sweeter. espeically considering that this is my fifth and last year here. it's like a little cherry on top, you know?"

"yeah of course," you agree, nodding, "you really deserve it considering the crazy career you've had."

"thank you, y/n," she smiles sincerely.

"on the topic of this being your last year as a college player, once you head into that locker room, what will you say to the young players awaiting years of experience to come..."

you continue with the interview, asking questions back-to-back that you genuinely wanted to know the answers to, or that you thought her fans wanted to hear about.

you were so caught up in the authenticity and professionalism of the report that you failed to notice the way paige was looking at you.

she was entranced. her eyes were locked onto yours the entire time, as if you were the only two people in the room. she nodded along as your sweet voice brought her to calm state of mind. whenever you interviewed her, she was able to disregard the pressure of the cameras and the media controversies. she felt safe and at peace.

with the way she stared at you, one might think that you were some sort of supernatural being that put her under a spell.

"yo, look," ice nudged aubrey with her elbow, "you see paige with that reporter?"

"oh yeah," she nodded, looking at the two of you, "that's y/n. she's a student at uconn and a reporter-in-training with espn. she's pretty chill," aubrey explains.

“well, shit, whoever she is, she got paige down bad,” ice laughs.

"what do you mean? they're not even close. at least i don't think they are."

"well they look like they are," ice says, "you don't see the way paige is looking at her?"

“lowkeyy,” aubrey raises her eyebrows, “you might be right ‘cus tell me why one second paige was next to me, and the next she was running around looking for someone..”

“it was prolly y/n!”

“no shit,” aubrey deadpans, ice responding with a shove and scoff.

they both stand silently for a moment, observing you and paige from afar. they watch as you laugh with their teammate, the smiles on your faces so genuine and contagious.

"i don't play my edits on repeat!" paige laughs as she hopelessly throws her hands in the air.

"alright, alright," you sigh as you try to subvert your laughter, "well thanks for talking with me tonight, paige, and huge congratulations to you and your team."

"thanks, y/n, it's always fun talking to you," paige smiles as she moves to hug you before waving to the camera.

"anddd cut," the cameraman says, "alright we're offline..."

you momentarily break free from paige’s grasp to thank your co-workers and wish them a good night. you’re about to start packing up your own equipment when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your frame.

“paige-“

“hollon, ma,” she mumbles into your hair, “just lemme stay like this for a bit.”

“you okay, superstar?” you giggle, hugging her back nonetheless. you wrap your arms around paige’s torso, squeezing slightly as you rest your head on her chest.

“yeah, i just-“ she sighs in content, “i just missed you.”

paige’s statement left you confused. you had only became friends with the girl that past school year, and you didn’t think that you were the closest friends. sure, you saw each other at games and occasionally around campus or at certain functions, but that was pretty much it. 

what you didn’t know, however, was that paige had taken a strong liking to you. her little crush on you was tiptoeing into unprofessional waters, but seeing you on the sideline at all her games with the brightest smile and most enticing personality made her heart soften a little bit.

over the course of the season, you became a sense of serenity for her amidst the hectic tornados of game days. if her shots weren’t falling, all she had to do was listen to the sound of your cheers of encouragement to get her confidence boosted. or if geno forced her to ride bench for a little bit, one glance in your direction would lift her mood and keep her motivated.

little things like that made the short exchanges she had with you more meaningful. to you, it might have just seemed like a means for you to do your job, but to paige, it was her way of slowly building a deeper relationship with you with hopes of sparking something that only existed in her daydreams.

maybe part of you wasn’t interested in her in that way or wanted to prioritize your progressing career, but on the other hand, maybe you just wanted to say “fuck professionalism” and just let your heart lead the way.

maybe you really were starting to develop feelings for the america’s favorite athlete.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[buttercandy16]

Betrayal

PAIRING: Agatha Harkness x Reader

SUMMARY: The reader is heartbroken and finds comfort in the arms of her best friend.

Or who betrayed who...

WARNING(s): Cheating, manipulation, and a whole lot of SMUT.

A/N: My fixation for this woman is just unhealthy and I'm loving it. Enjoy!

Y/N POV

"The day we met was the day I was no longer a man of my own because from that very moment I surrendered myself to you and you alone, my Y/N. " 

Those were the exact words that my beloved husband said to me during our wedding vows. The words that made me feel like I was the luckiest woman alive… not until now.

Greg looks so handsome when he smiles, the way his eyes disappear with such mirth. Especially right now as he dances, swaying his body to the rhythm of the music. He's not really a fan of dancing but he tried it for me because he knew how much I love dancing, it made me feel special. But now as I watch him do exactly what I had originally thought he'd only do for me, with another woman nestled intimately between his arms made me realize that I wasn't as special as I thought I was. 

The way he dances is so much better than how he used to as if he's been doing this for some time now. I originally thought the reason why he's been coming home late was due to his busy work schedule because that's exactly what he's been telling me, I guess I was wrong.

My husband is no longer mine alone…

Tears silently streamed down my cheeks unnoticed as I willed myself to turn away from the scene that turned my world upside down…

The moment I went inside my car that's when all hell broke loose. I screamed and screamed until my throat felt raw and scratched while banging my fists against the wheel. 

Cursing his name for the lies, cursing him for the promises, and cursing him for causing me the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life.

My heart feels like it has been punctured a million times over by tiny pins. It stings at first, but now it feels as if they’ve left me numb, not even slightly painful, just numb. 

How could he do this to me? How could he cheat on me and throw years of marriage into the dust as if it meant nothing?! I gave him everything, I fully surrendered myself to him without reserve as I thought he would do the same to me… oh how wrong I was… 

I cried even harder just thinking of his betrayal but I was also starting to panic as I felt my chest constrict, making it difficult for me to breathe.

Damn asthma…

I looked through my bag for my inhaler, but it was not there. The panic and lack of air drove me to start gasping, breathing as if the oxygen had been sucked from the air around me.

I clumsily grabbed my phone and dialed the first person I could think of at this dire moment. 

After the final ring, I immediately spoke before the woman on the other line had the chance with labored breaths.

"A-agatha… I need you, please."

"Y/N? What's going on? Where are you? Are you hurt?" Despite the buzzing in my head and wheezing from my chest I can still hear the urgency and worry in her voice as she spewed one question over another. 

"Ha-hades Den… please hu-hurry. Can't breathe." I stuttered through the desperate sobs that left my lips, alerting the woman in the other line even more.

"Hades Den? The dance studio? I'll be there as fast as I can, just be somewhere safe and stay on the line with me." Agatha instructed but I could barely hear anything she was saying as I struggled to control my breathing. With my hands cold and shaking I accidentally let go of my phone making it fall next to the pedals.

"Sweetheart? Hey, I'm on the road right now. Hello? Are you still there? Y/N? Please answer me, you're gonna give me a heart attack!"

Already my thoughts were becoming jumbled like I was in a nightmare. Without uttering another sound the side of my face met the tinted window as darkness overtook my vision and my eyes closed.

_=_=_

Not really knowing how long I was out when I was suddenly jolted from my position when the door opened and I fell into the arms of my best friend who without a doubt caught me safely in her arms.

"Oh my God! Y/N!! What happened to you?!" Agatha asked worriedly.

I clung to Agatha’s arms as she helped me out of my car. She held an inhaler to my lips and I immediately took a puff, holding it in for a count of four before slowly expelling the air that tasted of chemicals. It was kinda bitter really, but after so long with asthma, I had come to associate it with easier breathing and so in a weird sort of way I liked it. Agatha put the cap back on the inhaler and jammed it deep into her pocket.

"Ho-how did you know I needed that?" I asked.

"We've known each other since we were teens, sweetheart, I'm fully aware whenever my best friend is having an asthma attack."

One of her hands kept me balanced while the other one cradled the side of my face trying to get a glimpse of my eyes.

The moment our eyes met I could see my reflection in her beautiful blue orbs, and I looked exactly like how I felt…  like shit… making me release another stream of tears down my cheeks.

"Sweetheart, please tell me. What happened?" she worriedly asked again while wiping my tears off with her thumb.

I couldn't really tell her at the moment, I just wanted to get out of here.

"Take me away, please" I softly begged, my voice barely a whisper but I knew she heard me as understanding can be seen in her eyes. 

She gently guided me towards the passenger seat of her car and put my seatbelt on me before settling on the driver's seat.

"I'll call someone to drive your car home," she informed me, I softly nodded in response. I leaned my head to the side of the window with my eyes closed as Agatha drove off away from the studio, away from my cheating husband.

_-_-_ 

"Y/N, wake up. We're here."

I woke up to Agatha's face close to mine as she gently shook me awake.

I was a little bit startled by how close her face was to mine, it was so close that I could feel her breath gently caress my cheek.

"U-um… okay," I gulped nervously, she only smiled before getting out of the car.

Surveying my surroundings, that's when I realized that she brought me to her house.

Agatha opened the door for me and gently took my hand in hers to assist me, leading me inside her humble abode.

Once inside the house, I was met with silence. Too quiet for what I was used to.

"Where’s Nicky?" I asked curiously as I sat down on the sofa while she disappeared to the kitchen.

"Nicky is having a sleepover with his friends. I also gave the staff some days off so it's just us here," she explained, coming back to me with a tray of water and alcohol.

"Alcohol?"

"I have a feeling we're gonna be needing it" she smiled mischievously before turning serious.

"So… are you gonna tell me what happened or should I play the guessing game?" she asked while pouring me a glass of expensive scotch.

"Greg." uttering his name leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. Much more bitter than the alcohol that I'm currently pouring down my throat.

"What's wrong with your husband?" Agatha asked while taking a sip from her glass.

"He's cheating on me."

Shock and disbelief painted Agatha’s face, while I tried my best to keep my tears from falling.

"You're kidding."

"I can assure you I'm not, I saw it with my own two eyes."

As Agatha sat there in shock, she laid it on heavy. "I told you he was no good! He is nothing but a cheating bastard!" After a breath, she continued, "He was never good enough for you anyway." Agatha’'s words rang true as my world started to fall apart.

Finally, I looked up with tears in my eyes asking, "What do I do? Leave him?"

Agatha doesn't even hesitate, "Hell yes! He doesn't deserve someone special like you."

I just sat and listened to whatever Agatha has to say as well as getting a little too deep with the alcohol consumption.

"You see, sweetheart, men like Greg are like damn leeches that suck the life from anything they come in contact with. He doesn't deserve an angel like you." she said with such seriousness which actually made me giggle a bit despite everything, probably because I'm getting really tipsy. I'm also starting to believe every word that comes out from her luscious red lips… 

Wait, What the hell am I thinking?!

I shook my head trying to get these… Um...weird thoughts about my best friend's kissable lips and what they probably taste like.

Arghh!!  What the hell brain?!

"Hey, are you alright?" Agatha looked at me as if I've grown two heads on the spot, which made me blush out of embarrassment. 

"Ye-yeah… Sorry… I'm getting a little too tipsy." I mumbled before getting up from the spot, which was a bad move since I lost my balance and fell backward into Agatha's lap.

"Well, this is comfortable" Agatha smirked as she wrapped her arms securely around my waist which only brought more blood flowing through my cheeks.

"A-agatha what are you doing?" I asked while trying to get her hands off me but failed miserably. She only laughed at my attempts and I was starting to get irritated not until I felt her warm lips softly pressed against my nape.

I went completely rigid from the contact, breath hitching, and my mind running wild with what the hell is going on.

"Is something wrong?" Agatha asks with a grin plastered on her face.

"N-nothing." I stuttered back to her.

Oh god, what do I do?!

"Are you sure? You seem a little flustered. Especially when you were eyeing my lips minutes ago" she asks before pausing, "It's as if you have been thinking of doing something with them."

"Agatha, I... I can explain." I tried to argue, yet I had no argument in my head.

"No need to, I understand. I've wondered for a very long time how your lips would taste as well," she whispered next to my ear. Her breath tickles my now sensitive skin.

Before I could react I felt Agatha's hand on my arm, I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Why don't we stop this little game," Agatha says, bringing her hand to my chin and making me look into her burning blue eyes, "And just… Give… In."

Oh my god! What should I do? This is so wrong.

"That's enough Agatha. I don’t want that and you won't speak to me like this any longer. I’m not like you… I’m not into women and married.”

"We both know that’s a lie,” Agatha whispered, and I watched as my best friend's hands moved to the buttons of my shirt. I could only watch her playing with it, slowly unbuttoning it one by one. "I think you do want it… In fact, I think you're deeply curious about it. You know I can treat you better, and make you feel even better than any man could."

"Aggie..." I went to protest.

"Shhhh." She whispers to interrupt me.

Frozen in my place, I was helpless to simply watch as my childhood best friend now fully unbuttoned my shirt. Her soft, slender hands move to the inside and effortlessly start to push the shirt to the side, exposing just a little of my bare skin.

"Give in, pet. Let your curiosity run wild" Agatha whispers.

My gaze meets her's, her soft lips smiling back at me as I feel soft fingertips running against my skin.

That's when I decided to surrender myself to this gorgeous woman holding me.

In a smooth and quick motion, Agatha pushes the shirt and it falls over. Only being held up by my arms, yet now my front body was fully on show. Wearing just a lace push-up bra, I remained still as Agatha's fingertips continued to explore my body.

 "Do you like it when I touch your body like this?"

Oh god, please help me.

"Y-yes." I stuttered back, closing my eyes as goosebumps appeared all over my body.

Knowing that I was losing control of myself.

She smoothly moved her head forward, her soft, delicious lips ever so slightly brushing against my ear as she whispers in the most seductive of tones.

"Does it feel good baby?"

"I...I....I..." I stuttered back, not being able to speak.

Closing my eyes and feeling Agatha’s warm breath on my ear makes my legs feel like jelly. I can already tell that my warmth is absolutely soaked.

Her hands explored my back and found their way to my bra strap.

"Cat got your tongue?" She whispers into my ear, her tongue slightly leaving her mouth and licking my ear lobe.

I gasped out loud.

My bra strap was unhooked. Pulling her head back, Agatha’s face was filled with joy as she kept a hold of the bra and pulled it back and off my body.

My body, no longer fighting any of Agatha's advancements allowing her to remove my bra, now sitting with my breasts on show.

With a slow movement, Agatha cups my right breast. Slowly playing with it, she flicks her thumb over the nipple over and over.

"Ooohh." I accidentally moan, my legs feeling weak beneath me.

"Do you like that?" Agatha whispers.

"Y-yes," I whispered back.

She continued to play with my nipple in her hand, knowing that I will soon be too far gone to turn back.

"What about this?"

My eyes were wide open in shock and a gasp escaped my lips as Agatha swiftly laid me on my back on the sofa while she hovered over my flushed body. She didn't waste any time and moved her head forward, her soft, plump lips landing around my nipple. Her wet tongue comes out and flicks it, running around in small circles.

I can't stop myself from letting out soft moans, my nipples have always been my weak point. As I looked down at Agatha’s soft dark hair, feeling her tongue playing with my nipple my legs begin to squirm.

She sucks on my nipple and nibbles down on it with her teeth.

"Oooohh." I moaned louder.

"Aggie, this is wrong." I panted out weakly.

"Yet, here we are," Agatha says, giving one last lick before pulling her mouth away. Keeping her hand on my breast, I feel like she had me lying here forever. "Why are you fighting this?" She asks.

Her hand pulls away from my breast. Just when I thought it might be over, Agatha’s hand returns softly to my pants-covered thigh. Instinctively, I slightly opened it and allowed my best friend's hand to run between them, ever so slowly getting closer and closer to my center.

Finally reaching it, she popped off the button and inserted her hand inside my pants, gave my warmth a slow rub from outside my underwear, and whispered.

"Why are you so wet?"

"I.... don't know." I tried to think of an answer but my mind is somewhere else.

"Hmmm… I think you do know. It's because you want this… need this…" Agatha pushed my underwear to one side; she easily slid one finger knuckle deep inside of my drenched warmth.

"Oooohhh." I moaned, biting down on my lip.

"Am I right, baby?." Agatha whispers, arching her finger inside my warmth, rubbing against my G-spot.

"Ooooh god." I moaned louder, closing my eyes and allowing myself to be fingered right here in my best friend's living room.

My head is a mess, the pure pleasure coming from Agatha's finger just increases when she easily pushes a second finger inside and perfectly hits my G-spot.

"Answer me, Y/N," Agatha demanded.

"Yyyyeesss." I moaned out in pure ecstasy.

"Yes, what?" She asks with a smile, knowing she had me where she wanted me.

"Yes, I want it," I said firmly, opening my eyes and staring at her beautiful face.

This spurred her to increase the pace of her fingering.

"Yes!" I moaned over and over, my G-spot getting hit by her amazing fingers.

"Good," Agatha says firmly and pulls her fingers out of my warmth, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

I know I should stop this, deep down I know this is wrong and that this can only end badly. But right now, I was no longer thinking with reason.

"Okay," I whispered.

She grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom.

Finally, in the room, she shuts the door before sitting on the bed.

"Take off your underwear," Agatha commanded.

Not speaking, I bent over and pushed my underwear off. Now standing completely naked, by choice, in front of my best friend.

"Come sit next to me."

Sitting down, we stared at each other. For a moment, thinking of what is about to happen made my body almost shaking with excitement.

Agatha’s hand appeared on my thigh and once again instinctively I opened them. Her fingertip moves to my swollen clit.

"Oh god..." I gasped. Looking her dead in the eyes as she slowly massages my clit, sending so much pleasure throughout my body.

As my breathing gets heavier and heavier, my legs begin to twitch from every flick of Agatha's finger.

Not being able to control myself any longer, I moved my head forward and captured Agatha's lips with mine. Savoring her cherry-flavored chapstick.

As our kiss deepens, her fingers move faster on my clit making my legs twitch from pleasure.

My hand started to explore Agatha's body, caressing with such gentleness and sensuality. Landing my hand on her thigh, I gripped it tightly as I could feel myself nearing my release but before it reached that point, Agatha suddenly pulled her hand away from my aching warmth, making me whine in frustration.

Stopping the kiss, I stared at her in confusion. But before I could say anything she placed her fingers on my mouth and pushed it in, making me taste my arousal. It was divine…

With the combination of alcohol and pure lust burning through my system, I began to suck on her fingers as if they were a lolly whilst staring into her eyes, making her groan in approval.

The moment my mouth left her fingers, Agatha stood up and undressed with such speed I could barely process how she did it, but here she is now completely bare for me to see and worship.

I was still sitting on the edge of the bed when Agatha gently straddled me, our naked chests deliciously pressing against each other.

She grabbed my head and held it just inches away from hers, staring at each other's eyes.

"Touch me," She ordered.

Not having to be told twice, my hand goes to her smooth warmth which is just as wet as her own. With ease, I pushed my index finger inside and started to rub it against Agatha's G-spot.

"Ohhh yes!" She moans loudly. She looks down at herself fingering me whilst I fingered her. Looking back up we moaned in unison.

"Oh fuck yes!" Agatha moans out, pushing in to kiss me hard as the two of us finger each other.

This continues for a few minutes, each of our moans growing louder and louder.

"Lie down on your back baby," Agatha instructed as she pulled away from me. I was so close to my release but didn't mind it one bit for I was more than excited about what was to come next.

Lying down flat, I watched as she parted my legs and began kissing slowly up to the insides of my thighs.

She went closer and closer to my warmth until it was staring directly at her.

I turned red as a tomato as I saw how Agatha looked at my warmth, she was looking at it as if she wanted to devour it.

"Beautiful," she whispered and slowly moved forward.

Her tongue pushed inside of me and tasted my nectar. With her eyes closed, she explored my warmth. I can feel her running her tongue up and down my soft lips. In and out of my hole before finally reaching my throbbing clit.

"Mmmmm yes!" I moaned when Agatha's tongue first flicked my clit.

The way she was looking at me right now made everything so much hotter, and with it, a moan left my lips.

Agatha moaned back before getting her tongue back onto my sensitive clit.

"Don't stop,”

I slowly started to grind my warmth back and forth on Agatha's eager tongue.

My legs were spread wide, accepting the finger fucking in my warmth as the sound of my juices filled the room.

"Mmmmmm! A-aggie… I'm close.”

"You want to cum all over my face, baby? You want to cum on your best friend's face?" Agatha moaned but didn't even give me a chance to reply when her hands gripped my thigh firmly and in one quick motion slid her fingers knuckle deep into my tight, dripping warmth.

"AGATHAA!!!" I screamed out in pure pleasure and arched my back as my warmth flooded over Agatha's face. An earth-shattering orgasm wrecked my body over and over again.

As my body carries on shaking as my orgasm slowly dies down, Agatha, still hooked on my delicious warmth, carries on licking me, lapping up every drop of cum as she can while continuously she fingers my overstimulated warmth.

"Agatha, stop." I panted out, feeling too sensitive after cumming.

"Just one more, baby. Give me one more." She coos, with her words I screamed as my second orgasm was ripped from me. This time squirting all over my best friend's face and soaking the silk sheets that she shares with her wife. The taste of my sweet release on her tongue, and the magnificent sight of me squirting was too much for Agatha, making her cum hard with a primal moan.

After cleaning my warmth with her tongue she sits to the side and just stares at me with a beautiful smile on her face, looking quite proud of herself. I can see my juice dripping from her chin and some still glossing her lips which she seductively licks with her tongue, while her eyes are devouring mine.

What a sight…

She starts to slide her fingers around my lips. The fingers that were just in my warmth.

"Mmmm." I moaned as I happily took them into my mouth before her fingers were replaced with her soft lips.

Our lips parted before staring deeply into each other's eyes. All I could see in her eyes was pure admiration, desire, and…love?

"You're mine now, sweet thing, and I will not let anyone come in between us… never again." She whispered before gathering me into her arms with my head resting on her chest.

Her words ring inside my head, but I find myself loving the idea of being with Agatha, not quite processing the last part of her declaration which I gladly dismissed. All I can think about is that she wants me to be hers, and that made me feel like the whole damn zoo was having a party inside my tummy.

"Yours" I softly whispered with a bright smile on my face.

For a few minutes, we just both laid there basking in each other's warmth in silence. The smell and taste of my release filled our senses, and the room itself. It was the last thing my mind processed before letting sleep take me into the arms of my new lover.

_=_=_

It was a little before 11 pm when I pulled into the garage of my mansion, a mansion I share with my cheating husband. Thinking about it should've still made me feel bad, but that wasn't the case anymore. Because all I can ever think about the moment I left Agatha's home was her touches, kisses, and sweet words that she constantly whispered in my ears.

I came in the door a bit tired from the earlier activities but with a glowing smile still etched on my face. I set my bag and jacket on the kitchen table before I saw Greg eagerly enter the living room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. "Wow, honey, you...you look glowing."

I just smiled a wicked little before answering in a slightly snarky tone. "Oh, thanks, honey."

If only you knew how I got this glow…

"Where have you been? I've been calling your phone non-stop but you weren't answering. I was so worried." Greg said, his voice raw with worry.

Getting fucked by my best friend in a much better way than you'd ever could… no biggie. I wish I could say these words out loud but I did my best to refrain from doing so, instead, I went into acting mode.

"Oh, I'm so sorry hon. I forgot my phone in my car. I was with Agatha the whole time, and well, we got busy…so busy that the time completely slipped my mind." I explained with my most convincing voice.

You cheating bastard don't deserve a single damn explanation from me, but I'll play your game, Greg… just for the kick of it.

"Well, I'm just glad you're home safe and sound. By the way, I have a surprise for you. I know I've been really busy lately, but I want to make it up to you tomorrow night."

"Oh, that's nice," I answered, not overly excited but still kept on indulging him.

"And to celebrate the anniversary of our marriage, maybe even a bigger surprise for you. I learned to dance." Greg happily announced, I on the other hand am confused as hell.

Shit, I didn't even realize the date for tomorrow is our anniversary. At that moment, Greg stepped toward me, pulled me in, and waltzed with me a few steps. While we danced, he said, "I have been taking lessons twice a week. I know I am no expert dancer, but I wanted to do this for you. I even have reservations for us."

I continued moving with Greg, my eyes wide and in shock as my mind started to spin. I suddenly stopped and just stood there. All I could think was 'this can't be. There is no way it was just dancing. He was cheating on me. He had to be cheating on me.' I had tears streaming down my face as I thought of what I had done earlier.

"Honey, I also took the liberty of buying the dress you saw last week when we went to the mall. I know it's a big surprise but we have all night to dance the night away." I was in shock as I continued to stare at him. And all I could ask is, "How?"

"Well, it wasn't easy. About two months ago, I was talking with Agatha, and I was saying how I wanted to do something big like learn to dance. She said she knew someone who offers dance lessons. So, for a week during lunch, we would work on a few basics in my office. Then, we progressed to going out dancing every Tuesday and Thursday at Hades Den, the dance studio. I invited my dance instructor and her fiancé to join us. I thought I owed them a nice night out after how helpful they have been. I'm so glad Agatha managed to keep it from you, I made her swear not to, so the surprise won't be spoiled. I was quite shocked since we both know she can't even keep a secret." Greg chuckled.

Hearing Agatha's name was enough to snap me out of my trance, "A-agtha knew?"

"Oh, she more than knew. She knows all about the entire plan. Sometimes she'd go to Hades den to make sure I'm progressing. Your best friend really wants the best for you, she's a gem. You're so lucky to have her in your life, in our life."

My mind started racing, and my breathing was getting shallower with every second that passed by. Greg saw this and immediately ran to my bag and grabbed my inhaler.

No… no… this can't be true…this can't be true. It doesn't make any sense… why would Agatha keep this… Agatha lied… she lied… and then she seduced me… we fucked… Greg never cheated… Agatha knew… we fucked… Greg didn't cheat… But I did… I cheated… I'm the cheater and not Greg… I cheated…

My mind was in jumbles as Greg placed the inhaler on my lips asking me to open my mouth… but I don't think I want to… I wanna drown in this asthma and just die on the spot.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as the feeling of guilt and betrayal started to eat me whole. My husband's worried voice feels like a faraway echo, as my mind is consumed by one question.

Agatha… What did you make me do?

_=_=_

Please don’t forget to like, repost, comment, and follow!! It helps boost motivation, lol.

[uniquexusposts]

This is embarrassing - M. Verstappen (2)

Summary: Y/n and Max meet again at the slopes. Part one Part three

And the next day was even busier on the slopes. The last time it was so extremely crowded at the ski lift... Three years ago. It almost looked like people were waiting for a Harry Styles concert. It was a beautiful day, but not a special day. Well, it was Christmas Day, but usually, it would be quiet on the slopes.

Y/n was watching the chaos from a distance. Her plan was to ski for an hour, but suddenly, she didn't look forward to it anymore. She removed her helm from her head and grabbed the skies from the ground. Time to go home. An annoyed feeling flowed through her veins. She hoped that she could some time on the slopes, just to relax - well, to empty her mind - and then to get ready for the evening. For a moment, she longed for a lockdown again; no people, no queues, not having to share the slopes with anyone. Y/n turned around and made her way to the exit, passing everyone complaining about the busyness.

Her eyes fell on someone who was struggling to remove his skies from his boots. Y/n walked towards them. "Do you need some help?"

"Oh, yes, please. I can't get those off."

Y/n explained to the person how to do it.

"I always feel so stupid when it doesn't work." The person put off the goggles and removed the helmet. A smile came on his face. "Hey, you, again."

A smile grew on her face. "We keep bumping into each other," she smirked.

Max noticed that the young woman was an easy talker and joked around. "It's almost getting too notable." He took a deep breath. "Thanks, for this. But, err, I really need to go to the restroom, so I'm gonna go."

"Yes, sure. I wont hold you up any longer." She grabbed her gear from the ground again and saw how Max walked in the opposite direction from the restrooms. "Hey!" Y/n stepped towards him. "It's the other direction," she said, pointing behind her.

"Yes, I know. But the queue is long. And I can hold it up for a bit longer."

"Oh, okay," she nodded.

Max walked away again. It was a good day to go out, and he wasn't the only one who thought about it like that. The entire village thought like that. Today was more about waiting than skiing. Max looked next to him, and the young woman was walking behind him. They made eye contact, and she shared an awkward smile. "It's busy out there," he said to her.

She nodded. "Unfortunately," she mentioned. "How many times did you manage to get up there?"

"Four times now, since this morning. You?"

"Zero." She sighed. "I was about to hit the slopes, but then I saw the queue and turned around."

"You're late."

"Yeah, I hoped that everyone would be too drunk because of the Après-ski and would get ready for their Christmas dinner," she honestly shared.

Max couldn't help it, but he laughed. "That's quite the strategy." He looked in front of them. "I feel like it's much busier than before."

"It's the same as before Covid, actually. But it looks busier."

"Ah, makes sense."

"And during Covid, when we were open, only the guests from the resort had access. And now everyone has access again."

He nodded. "Fully back to normal."

"Yep." Y/n struggled to carry her skies, which annoyed her more. "Where do you stay?"

"Other side of the village," he replied. "We're renting a house. It's called Maison de Neige."

"Ah, that's a lovely house. Far away, though."

He looked at her and noticed the somewhat judgy look. He knew it sounded stupid. Why go to your accommodation to go to the bathroom on the other side of the village when there's a restroom nearby? "I know, I know. But it was so busy."

"Yeah, I mean, I would do the same," she agreed. "You know what? I live there," she pointed at a house across the street. "If you want to, you can use the toilet. Saves you some time."

Max raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" He scanned the houses in the street. He thought those were holiday accommodations since all of them looked huge.

Y/n nodded. "Yes. It's no problem."

For a moment, Max hesitated. Could he trust her? But on the other hand, she didn't look like a person who would take advantage of him. "What is your name, actually?"

"Oh, yes, right. My name is Y/n," she introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm Max."

"I know," she whispered. "Nice to meet you, too." Y/n zipped her coat open and grabbed her keys. She opened the door that led to the garage.

Max followed her inside. He closed the door behind him and looked around. On the left side, one car was parked. On the other side, he saw a lot of ski gear. In the middle of the garage was a wooden bench to undress from the thick layers of ski gear. And that was what Y/n did. He followed her attitude.

"The relief when taking those boots off..." She got up and waited for him.

He put his helmet on the bench next to him and got up as well. "...heavenly," he dreamingly said and followed her upstairs. His eyes fell on the photos on the wall of the hall; a lot of family photos.

"Eh, here is the toilet," Y/n said and opened a door in the hall.

She left Max by going to the kitchen. Now she wasn't going to the slopes anymore, she wanted to treat herself to a glass of hot chocolate for the disappointment. Treat yourself. But now, did she need to ask Max if he also wanted a glass? She invited him over, but just for the use of the toilet. What if he thought this was weird? Y/n grabbed her hoodie that was hanging over the bar stool in the kitchen, put it on and stepped into her slippers. She leaned against the kitchen counter, debating her decision. If he says yes, give him hot chocolate. If he says no, nothing else will happen. It's not the end of the world.

"Thank you."

Y/n looked up and saw Max standing in the hall. She friendly smiled. "No problem," she said. "And, eh... This may sound weird, but I'm gonna make some hot chocolate. Do you want a glass too?" She was waiting for his reaction. "It's okay if you want to go back..." she quietly added.

"Can't say no to hot chocolate," he responded with a smile and entered the kitchen. "And it's not like it will be less busy now, on the slopes."

"Fair." Y/n heated some chocolate milk.

"No offence," Max broke the silence. He only had seen the kitchen, but the kitchen looked new and modern. And the size of the house was big; he assumed the entire property was one home. And the car in the garage was the new Volvo. "But what do you do for a living to live in a house like this?"

She looked at him and smirked. "It's my parents' house."

"Yeah, okay, I already thought so," he made the assumption. "But even then. They say it's expensive to live in this area."

"It is," she confirmed, pouring the hot chocolate into two cups. "Whipped cream?"

"Yes, please."

Y/n grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge and put it on the hot chocolate. "So, yeah. It's not like my dad is the mayor of the village, but he is in charge of the slopes; the maintenance, staff, etcetera. And my mum is the general manager of Blue."

"Blue?"

"The resort." She handed over the hot chocolate and sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

"Thanks." He sat down next to her.

Whenever Y/n would say that her parents were a big name in the village, she was scared that people would think that she would use that position for herself. She was proud of her parents, but... "So yeah, the daughter of."

"How is that like?" Max could perhaps fill in the answer, but he wanted to keep the conversation going. He ate some of the whipped cream.

"I would say lonely; they are barely home. We always have to postpone the holidays to moments when it's not busy. But on the other hand, my brother and I help them, so we always have something to do around here. And I really can't complain about where I live."

He nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine... It has its pros and cons?"

She nodded as well and carefully took a sip from her drink.

"I'm barely home as well."

"You know how it feels from the other side," she quietly mentioned and smirked to keep the conversation light. "But," Y/n started and smiled, "what will you be doing tonight?"

Today was Christmas. "We're staying at the Maison and making dinner on our own. We spend the evening at the restaurant yesterday. Yesterday we dressed up; today, we wear the ugliest Christmas jumper."

A smile grew on Y/n's face. "Sounds good."

"And you?"

"My parents said that they might be off for the evening. And if that isn't the case, my brother and I will relax, have a Christmas film marathon and eat too much food." Y/n stroked a piece of hair behind her ear. "It sounds like we don't have friends or other family, but they already have plans."

"I'm not judging you. Who am I to judge?"

You are Max Verstappen.

"Besides, I prefer lazy Christmas evenings over busy, formal, perfect-not-so-perfect Christmas diners where you can't be yourself," he added.

She pushed the corners of her mouth down and looked impressed. "You have a point there."

"See."

"I don't know, it sounds so pathetic. A 24-year-old celebrating Christmas on the couch."

"I think a lot of 24-year-olds are jealous of you. Secretly," Max comforted her and lightly shrugged. "But, now I am here with a knower of the slopes. When is it quiet on the slopes?"

Y/n took a sip of the hot chocolate and licked her lips when she could feel the whipped cream on them. "Tomorrow morning," she replied. "And the morning after New Year. When the slopes open at 8 o'clock, to 9 o'clock-ish. No one wants to be there in the morning after a holiday with a hangover or a lack of sleep," she chuckled.

"Will you be there?"

"Oh, absolutely," she replied without hesitation. "I can't say no to an almost empty slope during the peak days."

A laugh rolled over his lips. "I like how dedicated you are."

Y/n held up her shoulders and looked proud of her knowledge. "Quality over quantity," she playfully said.

"As you should."

"You can join me, if you want. We're going with the family."

He squinted and thought about it. An empty slope? Fantastic. But with a hangover or only a few hours of sleep? Meh. "Let me think about that."

"Of course, no stress. We're leaving at half past seven. I will see if you will be downstairs tomorrow." She took the last sip of the hot chocolate.

Max nodded, emptying his cup as well. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, it was good," he smiled. "I'm going back to the Maison, calling it a day."

"I'm glad it was."

They made their way to the garage below the house, and Max put on his gear again, ready to enter the cold again. Well, it wasn't that cold, but it also wasn't warm. A decent temperature, but on the colder side to ski.

"Thanks again," Max smiled and opened the backdoor that led to the street. He was holding his skies and helmet in his hands, really showing he would go to his own place.

Y/n crossed her arms in front of her chest when the cold circled around her body. She smiled. "No need to thank me. Merry Christmas, Max."

"Merry Christmas," he smiled. "And maybe I will see you tomorrow morning. Half past seven, right?"

She nodded. "On the dot," she playfully said.

A chuckle escaped his mouth, and he stepped away, turning his back to her. "We will see," he mentioned and threw his hand with helmet in the air.

The smile on Y/n's mouth became wider, and she shook her head. Meeting him was the last thing that she expected, let alone drinking hot chocolate with him. She closed the door and locked it again. Her eyes fell on her ski gear, she didn't tidy it up. A sigh left her mouth, and she picked up her skies, placing them in their holder on the wall. She grabbed her boots and put them on the side. When she grabbed her helmet from the bench, the backdoor opened.

"Hey, Y/n/n,” her brother's voice filled the garage. Theodore grinned when he looked at his sister. He was wearing his teacher's ski outfit, meaning he got back straight from the slopes.

Y/n raised her eyebrows, and an annoying look came on her face. She hated that nickname, and he knew that. "Piss off," she mumbled. "Close the door for the cold."

"Good..." The deep voice of her dad said. When he stepped in, he was looking at his watch. "...afternoon," he finished when he saw it was a few minutes before six o'clock. Her dad was dressed normally; trousers, leather boots, a trendy coat.

"Ah, how cosy," a female voice then filled the air. A woman entered the garage, wearing her work clothes, and closed the door, locking it. "When was the last time we all stood in the garage at the same time?" The mother was widely smiling.

A soft smile grew on Y/n's face. "Are we all home tonight?"

"Yes."

"Yup."

"Absolutely."

Something she never thought would happen. She hoped for it, knew it was unrealistic, but this... A Christmas present to the family. "Love it," Y/n smiled and grabbed her coat. She brought her helmet and coat upstairs and stored them in the closet. She got to the kitchen and put the two used cups in the dishwasher.

“Y/n/n,” mum said when entering the kitchen. "Shall we make dinner in an hour?"

"Yes, sure."

"Do I need to help with anything?" Dad put on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter while crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Mum took a deep breath. "Uh..." She looked around the kitchen. "Let's just relax for a bit. My brain is a sponge." She left the kitchen with a glass of water in her hand and a yawn that escaped her lips.

"What's on the menu?" Dad asked his daughter. "And do you want a cup of coffee?"

"A cappuccino, please," Y/n replied. "And we have carpaccio, salmon with veggies and tiramisu," she mentioned and opened the fridge. "But we have to make the tiramisu since it was sold out."

"Let's make the tiramisu, then we will set the table and do the rest," he replied. "Mum has an extremely busy time; let's give her some rest. I think we need tonight simple anyway. Dinner and then watch a movie. I'm exhausted, everyone is exhausted."

Theodore entered the kitchen. "Sounds like a plan. Honestly, I'm not even dressing up. I'm gonna shower and put on a Christmas jumper, and that is all I will give you tonight." He yawned. "I've seen so many people today, I am overcooked."

"Was your class fun?" Dad asked his son and made a coffee for Y/n. "Coffee?"

Theodore nodded at his last question. "Yes, please. And the class... I have this annoying child I have to deal with, but overall, it's fine. Glad we have nothing tomorrow."

"Are we still doing the ski trip at eight tomorrow?" Y/n then asked.

"I say yes, but only if I have the energy for it," Theodore breathed.

"I will go, it's the only time I can go," dad breathed.

Part three

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313@blodwyn4u @sltwins @heart-trees

[dontbesoweirdkira]

A/N: Had this in my drafts and i just needed to know i'm not alone.... Just thinking about possessive Dick Grayson being a sloppy and disgusting kisser. PLEASE HEAR ME ON THIS. errr this is a drabble that is kind of unfinished but you get the vibesss. There really no plot...just wanted an excuse to draft up this though so.....

Warnings: suggestive not full blown nsfw....

request: always open

masterlist

He'd have you pinned under his body the moment you entered the apartment. Your wrists were pinned together by just one of his hands and your legs were locked in between his muscular thighs. It hadn't taken much to completely subdue you like this, though you fought as hard as you could, you were helpless up against someone as skillful as he. He's ever so cocky about it at first too as his hot tongue trailed down the side of your neck until your body slightly twitched. ugh! He found a new sweet spot and it peaked his interests. You probably thought your loving partner wouldn't notice, huh? Oh, he notices everything, no matter how minor it may have been ...just like when he noticed how that person was eyeing you earlier.

"Be good and stay still for me. You don't wanna make me unhappy, right?"

You could feel his lips purse up into that cocky smile of his as he let out a chuckle. It was sly, maybe even a little twisted in the way he let it out. His mind was revisiting how good it felt to put them back in their place. Oh just how terrified they looked realizing how much they fucked up by having the audacity to even think they had a chance with you. And for Dick be on top of you like this right now while they were probably limping home? Man, that creep would flip his shit if he could see this. It gave Dick too much of an ego to be the only one in the world who'd ever have the pleasure to do whatever they wanted with you.

While he soaked in moments like this, you hated it. His arrogance left a sour taste in your mouth. Dick didn't deserve to be rewarded for this poor behavior and think this was okay. You tried once more to fight and tell him how you seriously needed to talk about boundaries but it was useless.

That didn't surprise you tho. Dick had selective listening and was too self righteous to ever admit to his wrong doings. He was like a puppy who desperately wanted to play but couldn't grasp the concept that he just destroyed the living room and you're pissed off at him. . You could punish, scream and threaten him but Dick will never fail to get what he wanted in the end.

His tongue met with the crook of your neck and slowly made circles in place.

"i'll let you curse at me all night but please just be still and let me just-"

He let out a breathy plead before he was sucked back into his selfish desires. It was pathetic how quickly he could melt into you. He hadn't even done anything yet but the taste of you was enough to send his body into overdrive. Suddenly he was the one struggling to stay still. It was far too hot in this damn apartment and his clothes were too restrictive. It was evident he didn't exactly know what to do with himself even though he's done this a million times. He couldn't stop himself from becoming overly excited each and every time he had you like this. So eager to explore your body like it was the first time all over again. His one free hand slithering under your dress and grabbing onto anything that was soft and plump.

You could feel your neck being pulled at as his lips sucked on your sweat spot. You tried to remain upset and stiff as he left his love bite but it was hard when you had someone as disgusting as Dick all over you like this.

Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when his lips crashed into yours, shoving his perverted tongue as far as he could inside your mouth without any warning. The sounds of Dick's lewd moaning and smacking of each others lips filled the apartment as he sloppily made out with you.

He was so shameless in the way he handled you. He constantly craved more. More attention...more affirmations....more you.

Dick doesn't stop until he's begging you with his big, blue eyes, hoping you'd forget all about what he did to upset you. come onnn and be a good owner....he really...reallly wants to play right now.

[utterlyunawarewriter]

Overcrowded

Summary: You lose Percy in a crowd, and have trouble finding him again. However, he has the perfect way to solve this problem

A/N: sorry about the shortness of this, also let's pretend that demigods can use phones for this one. I think I've used all possible synonyms for "crowd" in this. Feedback is welcome <33

You cursed silently when you found out the mall bathroom had no paper towels. You settled for shaking your hands up and down in the air infront of you, before pulling out your lip gloss from your purse. After reapplying a layer over your lips, you used your elbows to open the door to the restroom.

You stepped out, and were amazed to see a giant mob of teenaged girls excitedly whispering to their friends. They were dressed in various shades of pink, ranging from the pale lilacs to deep magentas. You were stunned into silence, and for a moment, just stared at them.

They weren't here when you entered the bathroom, and they couldn't have just appeared out of thin air.

You snapped out of your daze, and scanned the crowd for a familiar head of permanently messy black hair, but to no avail. You frowned. Where could Percy have gone?

Deciding to satiate your curiosity about the origin of the sudden horde, you approach a middle-aged woman, who you assumed to be one of the girls mother. "Excuse me, but do you know what's happening here?", you gestured at the crowd.

"Oh, they're doing a sort of Meet-n-Greet with the cast of a movie."

"Alright, thank you."

You pulled out your phone and searched through the contacts. You found Percy's and tapped it, then pressed the phone to your ear. A cheery dial tone sounded, which brought a smile to your face.

The phone ringed long enough to make you nervous. Thoughts raced through you head. What if he lost his phone? What if he encountered a monster? What if he got hurt?

Of course you knew he could handle himself, but it couldn't stop your mind form thinking the worst.

After what seem like an eternity, he picked up, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Hello, love!" His voice came form the speaker and soothed your worries instantly. You let out a sigh of relief. "Hey, where did you go?"

"I didn't want to go anywhere, but then a huge-i mean huge-group of girls came outta nowhere, and i got swept up!"

"You're good?"

"Oh yeah, I'm good. Would be better if you were here though." You smiled again. Sweet little idiot with his sweet little words.

"Well, where are you right now?"

"Near a.........um, well, I'll be honest, I don't really know." He paused. You could picture him squinting at a store sign, struggling to read it. "I'm near a Ebino store?"

Okay. Reading store names wasn't going to help.

"Alright, umm, name something near you."

"A potted plant? Does that help?"

"I-no, that really doesn't. Okay, name something-"

"Wait I've got the best idea!" With that, he hung up.

You frowned. What was that supposed to mean? You looked through to crowds again, waiting to see his 'idea' was.

Huffing and tapping your feet impatiently, you debating calling him again, when you saw it.

A ridiculously large, blue helium balloon floated in the air a few stores away. It could have been a coincidence, but you took your chances.

Upon reaching it, you saw your boyfriend holding the balloon with an equally as large grin on his face.

All your annoyance melted away and he enveloped you into a hug. He buried his face in your neck, leaving feather-light kisses on it.

"I'm never losing you again."

____________________________________

My Masterlist

[acexliety]

Pleasant Surprise

Bakugo Katsuki x Fem! Reader

English isn't my first language, I'm sorry for any errors.

・・・・・

Warnings: none Summary: You surprise Bakugo with something neither of you truly expected !!

The apartment was dim and quiet, soft amber lights casting long shadows across the walls as you stood in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter. You took a slow breath, eyes drifting to the small, unmistakable object lying beside the stack of unread mail. A pregnancy test, as positive as it could be, though it hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Your heart pounded with a dizzying mix of joy, anticipation, and something that felt a lot like fear.

Bakugo would be home any minute. You hadn’t planned how to tell him, hadn’t rehearsed the words, because even thinking about them left you feeling shaky, your mind swirling with what-ifs and a sudden, overwhelming sense of change.

The door opened, and Bakugo stepped in, shrugging off his jacket and muttering something under his breath about the cold. When his eyes met yours, though, he paused, one brow raised as he took in your expression, noticing how you were standing there, unmoving.

“What’s up with you?” he asked, his tone casual but edged with curiosity. His gaze flicked to the counter, and you could tell he was already working out the pieces in his mind, just waiting for the answer to click into place.

You cleared your throat, a small, nervous laugh escaping before you could stop it. “I, um… I have something to tell you.” Your fingers tapped against the countertop, fidgeting as you struggled to find words that felt right, that could somehow encapsulate the life-altering news you were about to share.

Bakugo’s brow furrowed, his usual intensity softened with concern. “Spit it out already. You’re starting to freak me out,” he muttered, crossing the kitchen to stand beside you, his gaze unwavering as he tried to read your face.

Taking a breath, you steadied yourself, finally picking up the test and holding it out to him. For a moment, he didn’t react, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the small piece of plastic, the result unmistakable in its tiny window. His eyes widened, just barely, his expression shifting from confusion to something much deeper, something almost vulnerable.

“You… You’re pregnant?” he asked, his voice quiet, barely a whisper, as if saying it out loud would somehow confirm it.

You nodded, still feeling the weight of it, the tremor in your hands as you clasped them in front of you. “Yeah. We’re… we’re having a baby.”

He looked down, and for a moment you couldn’t quite read his expression. The usually confident, grounded Bakugo was momentarily speechless, his mouth slightly open, his gaze drifting to the floor. But then, after a moment, his shoulders relaxed, and his hand reached for yours, steadying you with that familiar, grounding touch that reminded you of exactly why you’d fallen in love with him in the first place.

“Hell,” he muttered, almost to himself, before looking back up at you, his gaze softer than you’d ever seen. “I don’t know what to say.” He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, damn. We’re really doing this?”

The relief that washed over you was almost dizzying, a smile breaking across your face as you nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah. We are.”

Bakugo’s hand moved up to cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek. “Hey, none of that,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You really think I’m not gonna stick by you through this? Tch, I’m not going anywhere.”

His words were simple, unembellished, but they held a promise that wrapped around you, a reassurance that he would be there through the uncertainty, through all the ups and downs you could already sense on the horizon.

“Guess this means I’ve gotta make some changes,” he muttered, half to himself, his gaze drifting to your stomach. He reached out, his hand resting lightly, tentatively, against your belly, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of awe in his expression, a rare softness that he never let anyone else see.

“We’re gonna have one hell of a kid,” he finally said, a small, almost incredulous smile tugging at his lips. He looked back up, his eyes fierce and unwavering. “And I’m gonna make sure they know they’ve got the best damn parents they could ask for.”

The words settled over you, a warmth unfurling in your chest as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his heartbeat steady against yours. You closed your eyes, feeling his hand rest protectively over your belly, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles. And in that quiet, shared moment, all the fear and uncertainty faded, leaving only the weight of his promise, his presence, and the unspoken certainty that no matter what, the three of you would be alright.

⭑.ᐟ

Thank you for reading !

[satansdarlin]

Blue stained glass

While I work on the fourth chapter of a full deck of cards I also decided to write for another one of my boys! Welcoming Kurt Wagner to the stage! Apologies for any bad German, I'm still learning it and often forget that it is a gendered language so please forgive me.

MDNI

Rating: E

Word count: 8.3k

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x shy!artist!fem!reader

Warnings: reader being kinda stalkerish but not with bad intentions, implied that some of the students have harmless crushes on Kurt, Kurt being a flirt, smut! Because I missed writing it, Oral (fem receiving), PiV, mentions of Kurt's faith, you wife that man up!, pregnancy. Not beta read!

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Golden light trickled in through the curtains as the sun set behind the school. The smell of dragon's blood incense wafted around the room in delicate wisps of smoke. The only sounds were the slight breeze outside and the dragging of bristles across canvas. You sat on the wooden stool, a slight hunch in your back you'd need to correct later with stretches. Your gaze followed along as you drew blue across the canvas. Blue had become a vital part of all your recent works, and you knew exactly why. Whenever you thought of art, flashes of blue fur, a spaded tail, the smell of sulfur, a silver cross, and a mischievous laugh filled your mind. You wouldn't call it obsession or infatuation. He was your muse. Not that he knew. How could you tell your teammate that he gave you such powerful inspiration? So the portfolio filled to the brim with artworks of just him remained hidden away under your bed.

Kurt Wagner. Everyone loved him. He was a friend worth keeping, made everything fun, always had the best ideas to keep the students entertained, and loved to chatter. Even Logan enjoyed his company from time to time. Kurt just had a way with people, with mutants. A few months back, you had a solo mission with him. It was awkward at first—the shy, quiet artist of the school and the impish chatterbox didn't know how to approach one another. In the end, the mission had concluded in giggles and soft-spoken words. Kurt was wonderful. That's why you couldn't understand why he kept insisting on spending time with you of all people. You were reserved, shy, introverted—the exact opposite of Kurt.

You had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on your door before starting, hoping it would deter visitors. It did. Well, anyone who saw the sign didn't bother you; the same could not be said for the blue fuzzy imp. He didn't see it, to be fair. He had just gotten home from taking some students to the mall for shopping and wanted to show you the paints he had found, so he teleported. The smell of sulfur and the familiar BAMF sound filled your room, making your eyes widen comedically as you stared at the canvas. A painting of Kurt praying in a church with blue stained glass—one he was most certainly not supposed to see.

"Mein Freund, you would not believe the gift I have found for you— ah," his pleasant accent-tinted voice stalled as he gazed at your shape and then the painting before you. His eyes widened and filled with glee. "Oh mein Gott! Is that me? It's... it's—" he struggled to find the English word for a moment before settling on, "herrlich."

You stammered shyly as he walked up behind you, gazing at the painting with a smile that made your insides flutter like a thousand baby butterflies had hatched. "I... erm... yes, it's you, but it's not finished," you spoke hesitantly.

"Not finished?" Kurt moved closer, his tail swaying gently behind him in that way it did when he was truly excited about something. "But it's already so beautiful! The way you captured the light through the windows..." He leaned in, careful not to disturb your workspace, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I had no idea you were watching me pray."

Your cheeks burned hot. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I just... sometimes I sketch you when you're around the mansion, and I remembered how peaceful you looked that one time I passed by the chapel..." You trailed off, realizing you might be revealing too much.

Kurt's expression softened, and a knowing look crossed his features. "Then perhaps..." he said, reaching down to carefully take the brush from your trembling fingers, "you wouldn't mind showing me the other drawings?" His golden eyes flickered toward your bed, where your portfolio lay hidden.

Your heart nearly stopped. "You knew?"

A gentle laugh escaped him, musical and warm. "Mein Schatz, I may be a fool sometimes, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." He paused, his tail curling slightly in what you had learned was nervousness. "The same way I look at you when you're lost in your art."

The confession hung in the air between you, as tangible as the wisps of incense smoke still dancing through the golden evening light. You sat frozen, brush dripping blue paint onto the dropcloth below, as Kurt Wagner—your muse, your teammate, your secret inspiration—waited for your response with bated breath.

"You... look at me?" You whispered in shock and a tinge of disbelief. He looked at you like you looked at him? That sounded impossible, yet the way his tail curled in nervousness and his foot tapped against the ground told a different story.

Kurt's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture you'd seen countless times when he was trying to find the right words. "Ja, I do. More than I probably should." His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. "When you're in the garden sketching, or during the art class with the students when you create those beautiful displays... The way your face lights up when you finally perfect a piece you've been working on..." He trailed off, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he took a small step closer, his tail now swaying in a gentle, hypnotic pattern. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..." He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I wasn't sure someone who creates such beauty would want..."

"Kurt," you interrupted, finding courage you didn't know you had. Standing from your stool, you reached for his hand, feeling the unique texture of his fur against your palm. "You are beauty. Why do you think I can't stop painting you?"

His golden eyes widened, and that brilliant smile you'd captured in countless sketches spread across his face. "Then perhaps," he said, bringing your joined hands up between you, "we've both been a bit foolish, ja?"

A small laugh escaped you, breaking the tension. "More than a bit." Your eyes drifted to the painting on the easel, then back to him. "Would you... would you like to see the others? The real ones, not just the ones I do for art class?"

Kurt's tail perked up, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I would love nothing more, mein Schatz. But first..." He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small paper bag. "I really did bring you something from the art store."

Inside was a set of iridescent blue paints that shifted colors in the dying sunlight, almost the exact shade of Kurt's fur when he moved. Your breath caught at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and when you looked up at him, his expression was so tender it made your heart ache.

"I saw them and thought of you," he admitted quietly. "Though I suppose I'm always thinking of you these days."

The confession hung in the air like a prayer, and you found yourself moving closer, drawn into his orbit like you'd always been, only now there was no need to hide it. The golden light that had started this evening's painting session now painted Kurt in warm hues, making him look almost ethereal—your own personal angel, right here in your art-cluttered room.

"Kurt," you whispered, not quite sure what you wanted to say, but knowing you needed to say something. The way he looked at you now, like you were one of his precious religious paintings come to life, made you understand why he'd always insisted on spending time with you. He'd been drawn to you just as you'd been to him, both of you dancing around each other in an elaborate routine of stolen glances and hidden feelings.

His tail curled gently around your wrist, as if he couldn't bear to not touch you in some way, and you realized that maybe this was what inspiration truly felt like—not just the desire to capture beauty, but to be part of it. With trembling hands, you knelt beside your bed, aware of Kurt's presence behind you as you reached underneath to pull out the large black portfolio case. Your heart hammered against your ribs—no one had ever seen these pieces before. They were raw, honest, intimate in a way your public artwork never was.

"I, um," you started, clutching the portfolio to your chest as you stood, "some of these are just quick sketches, and others aren't very good—"

"Liebling," Kurt interrupted gently, his tail swaying with barely contained excitement, "everything you create is wunderbar. May I?" He gestured to your bed, and you nodded, watching as he settled cross-legged on the corner, patting the space beside him.

You sat down carefully, the portfolio balanced on your lap. Kurt's warmth beside you was both comforting and nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the case and pulled out the first few pieces.

"Oh!" Kurt's delighted gasp made you jump slightly. His tail curled in pleasure as he leaned forward to study a charcoal drawing of himself perched on the mansion's balcony railing, looking out over the grounds. "I remember this day. It was right after that terrible thunderstorm, ja? When the sun finally came out?"

You nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a small moment. "The light was hitting your fur just right, and I couldn't help but..." you trailed off, embarrassed at admitting how much you'd observed him.

But Kurt was already reaching for the next piece, his golden eyes bright with wonder. "And this one!" It was a series of quick gesture sketches of him during a training session, his body in various poses of acrobatic grace. "You've captured the movement so perfectly. I had no idea you were watching so closely."

Your cheeks burned. "I hope that doesn't sound creepy."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "Nein, not at all. Though it does explain why you always volunteered to help supervise training." His tail brushed against your back playfully, making you squeak in surprise.

As you went through more pieces, your initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a warm glow at Kurt's genuine enthusiasm for each drawing. He had a comment for every piece—remembering the moments you'd captured, praising your technique, asking questions about your process. His tail never stopped moving, expressing his excitement in a way his controlled expressions couldn't quite hide.

"This one," he breathed, carefully lifting a watercolor painting, "this is..." It was one of your favorites—Kurt in the library late at night, reading by lamplight, his tail curled around a cup of tea. You'd painted it from memory after watching him there one evening, trying to capture the peaceful contentment he radiated in those quiet moments.

"The way you see me," he said softly, tracing the air above the painting as if afraid to touch it, "it's so..."

"Real," you finished quietly. "That's just... how you look to me."

Kurt turned to face you then, and the expression on his face made your breath catch. "All this time," he murmured, "I thought I was alone in feeling this way. In seeing such beauty in someone else."

You ducked your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his tail gently curved under your chin, lifting it back up. "No hiding," he said softly. "Not anymore, ja?"

The portfolio slid forgotten to the floor as Kurt's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed this. In the fading golden light of your room, surrounded by scattered artwork that told the story of your hidden feelings, Kurt Wagner looked at you like you were the masterpiece—not the artist. Time seemed to slow as Kurt's hand remained gentle against your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your heart was doing acrobatics that could rival his best performances, and you wondered if he could feel how warm your face had become.

"Mein Schatz," he whispered, leaning closer, "may I...?"

You could only manage a tiny nod, and then his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and you could feel his smile against your mouth. His tail curled around your waist, drawing you closer as your hands tentatively came up to rest against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady beating of his heart beneath.

When you finally parted, you immediately buried your burning face in his shoulder, earning a warm chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Hiding again so soon?" he teased, his accent thicker with emotion.

"Mmph," was all you could manage, which only made him laugh more.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to appreciate beautiful moments," he continued playfully, his tail squeezing your waist. "Perhaps I should pose for another painting? 'The First Kiss' would make a lovely addition to your collection, ja?"

You groaned and swatted his chest weakly. "Kurt!"

"Or maybe a series?" He was clearly enjoying himself now, his voice full of mischief. "We could call it 'The Evolution of Romance' or 'Love in Blue'—"

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still flaming. "You're terrible."

His grin was radiant. "Terrible, but yours?" The hope in his voice made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," you whispered, managing a shy smile. "Mine."

"Wunderbar!" He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Though I must ask—do you have any paintings of our future together hidden away as well? Should I be prepared for more surprises?"

"Kurt Wagner!" You tried to sound scandalized, but you couldn't help laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

"What? It's a reasonable question! After all, you've been secretly documenting me for months. For all I know, you've already planned our wedding colors—blue and more blue, I assume?"

You grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to smack him with it, but he teleported across the room with a BAMF, leaving a cloud of sulfur and the echo of his laughter. He reappeared perched on your easel, careful not to disturb your painting, his tail swishing playfully.

"You know," he said, his golden eyes twinkling, "I think I prefer being your muse when I know about it. The poses can be much more interesting this way."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. But you couldn't hide your smile, especially when you felt the familiar displacement of air and suddenly had a warm, fuzzy mutant curled around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

"Don't worry, Liebling," he murmured against your skin, his tail finding your hand and twining with your fingers. "I promise to be the best muse you could ask for. Though..." He paused dramatically, "I do have one condition."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "What's that?"

His smile softened into something so tender it made your chest ache. "That next time you paint me praying in the chapel, you'll be there with me. Some masterpieces are better created together, don't you think?"

This time, when you pulled him down for another kiss, you didn't hide your face afterward. After all, how could you when he was looking at you like that—like you were both the artist and the masterpiece, the muse and the creator, the beginning and end of something beautiful?

Though you did blush furiously when he later insisted on signing all your portraits of him with "Kurt Wagner, Professional Muse and Master of Stealing Artists' Hearts.”

.

.

.

The chatter of students filled the air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle surrounded you and your students. Truth be told, you hadn't even offered to do this job; teaching the art class wasn't something that had ever been on your mind, but Charles had asked you to do so, saying it would be good for the students to have an outlet for their emotions. Though teaching a bunch of mutant teenagers wasn't particularly easy, especially when half of them wanted to be in the danger room training to be X-Men—you probably got more questions about that than actual art.

"Your piece should be about expression. There is no right or wrong, only your feelings about your art," you spoke gently as you walked by the students settled in the grass of the gardens behind the school. A hand rose up and you looked over and nodded at the boy, Damian you believed his name was.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is painting helping us prepare for anything?" You sighed at the boy's question as he got some chastising nudges from some of your more kind students. You got that question about every class.

Before you could answer, a familiar BAMF sound and the scent of sulfur announced Kurt's arrival. He appeared perched on the garden wall, his tail swaying as he grinned at the class. Several students brightened immediately—Kurt had always been a favorite among them.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, mein junger Freund," Kurt said, gracefully flipping down to land beside you. His shoulder brushed yours in a subtle show of support that made your heart flutter, even after months of being together. "Art teaches us more than you might think. Strategy, patience, observation..." He winked at you before continuing, "How do you think I learned to move so efficiently in battle? By understanding space, movement, and perception—all things your talented teacher here helped me improve."

A few students giggled, well aware of your relationship with the blue mutant. It had become something of a school legend how you'd been caught with a portfolio full of Kurt drawings. Some of the older students even insisted they'd known all along, claiming they'd seen the way you both looked at each other during training sessions.

"Besides," Kurt continued, picking up one of the spare brushes from your supply kit and twirling it like one of his swords, "did you know that Leonardo da Vinci used his artistic skills to design defense systems? Or that camouflage patterns were created by artists? Even the maps we use for missions were drawn by artists."

Damian sat up straighter, suddenly looking more interested. "Really?"

You smiled, grateful for Kurt's intervention. "Really. And speaking of missions..." You shared a knowing look with Kurt before addressing the class. "Who wants to hear about the time my sketching skills helped us locate a hidden Sentinel facility?"

"Oh, tell them about the warehouse in Berlin!" Kurt added enthusiastically, his tail curling around your waist as he settled beside you. "When you noticed the architectural inconsistencies in my reconnaissance sketches?"

The students were all paying attention now, art supplies temporarily forgotten as they leaned in to hear the story. Even Damian had put down his phone, his previous skepticism replaced with curiosity.

"Well," you began, feeling Kurt's tail squeeze encouragingly, "it started when we noticed some unusual energy signatures in an old industrial district..."

As you recounted the mission, Kurt occasionally chimed in with his own colorful commentary, making the students laugh with his dramatic reenactments. You couldn't help but smile, watching him demonstrate his acrobatic moves while describing how your artistic knowledge had helped spot the hidden entrance.

"And that," Kurt concluded, landing gracefully beside you again, "is why we should never underestimate the power of art. Or artists." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, making several students coo and others playfully groan at the display of affection.

"Mr. Wagner," one of the girls called out, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to model for our class like you do for the teacher?"

Your face immediately heated up as Kurt laughed delightedly. "Sadly, I'm needed in the danger room. Though..." He grinned at you, that familiar impish look in his golden eyes, "I do have a private session scheduled later."

"Kurt!" you hissed, mortified as the students erupted in giggles.

He merely winked, pressed another quick kiss to your cheek, and teleported away with a theatrical bow, leaving you to face your amused students with burning cheeks.

"Now then," you said, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity despite your flushed face, "back to your projects. And no, Jenny, you cannot paint Mr. Wagner for your assignment—pick a different subject."

The disappointment on several faces told you that more than one student had been planning exactly that. You couldn't really blame them though. After all, you had an entire portfolio that proved just how inspiring a subject Kurt Wagner could be. After the lingering giggles from Kurt's dramatic exit finally subsided, you circled back through your students, the grass crunching softly beneath your feet. The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you paused to observe their work, offering gentle guidance where needed.

"Sarah," you said, stopping beside a girl whose hands were literally glowing as she painted, her mutation allowing her to create luminescent colors, "that's beautiful. The way you're using your powers to add depth to the sunset—very creative." Her beaming smile made your heart warm; it was moments like these that reminded you why Charles had been right about teaching.

Moving on, you found Marcus struggling with his brushstrokes, his extra set of arms getting in the way of each other. "Try coordinating them like we practiced," you suggested softly. "Remember, each hand can work on a different section. Think of it like... like when Kurt coordinates his tail with his movements during training."

The mention of Kurt made a few nearby students glance up with knowing smirks, but you ignored them, focusing on how Marcus's face lit up with understanding. Within minutes, all four of his hands were working in harmony, creating an intricate pattern that would have taken others four times as long to complete.

"Teacher?" A quiet voice drew your attention to Amy, a shy freshman whose scales tended to change color with her emotions—currently a nervous purple. "I... I don't know if this is good enough." She gestured to her canvas where she'd painted a self-portrait, her scales rendered in beautiful iridescent shades.

You knelt beside her, careful not to disturb her workspace. "What makes you think it's not good enough?"

"It's just..." she glanced around at her classmates' work, her scales shifting to a deeper purple. "Everyone else is painting normal things. Beautiful things. I painted... me."

"Amy," you said gently, thinking of all the times you'd doubted your own artwork, of all the paintings of Kurt you'd hidden away because you thought they were too revealing, too personal. "Do you remember what Kurt said in his last ethics class about beauty?"

Her scales flickered with hints of pink—she had a bit of a crush on Kurt, like half the school. "That it comes in all forms?"

"Exactly. And look—" you pointed to how the light caught her painting's scales, creating rainbow patterns across the canvas. "You've captured something uniquely beautiful. Something only you could create, because only you know exactly how those scales feel, how they shift and change. That's not just good art, that's powerful art."

The purple of her scales gradually shifted to a warm golden hue as she smiled, looking at her painting with new eyes. Around you, other students had paused to listen, and you saw several of them return to their work with renewed purpose.

"Damian," you called out, noticing he'd actually started painting instead of just complaining, "excellent use of perspective on that building. Been practicing your architectural sketches?"

He tried to look nonchalant, but you caught his pleased grin. "Yeah, well... after what you said about the Berlin mission... I figured it might be useful. You know, for future X-Men stuff."

"Hey, teacher?" Jenny piped up, paint smudged adorably across her cheek. "Since we can't paint Mr. Wagner, could you tell us more about how art helped on missions while we work? Please?"

A chorus of agreements rose from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, but keep painting. There was this one time in Moscow when my knowledge of color theory helped us identify a shapeshifter..."

As you shared the story, moving between easels and offering guidance, you noticed how the students' work seemed to come alive. Even the most reluctant artists were engaged now, their creativity flowing as they listened to tales of how art and heroism could intertwine.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger as the afternoon wore on, mixing with paint and teenage enthusiasm. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision caught your attention—Kurt, watching proudly from a nearby window between his training sessions. He blew you a kiss before disappearing again, leaving you with paint-stained fingers and a garden full of budding artists who were finally beginning to understand that there was more than one way to be extraordinary.

"Teacher?" Amy called out, her scales now a confident shade of blue that reminded you of someone special. "I think I'd like to do another self-portrait. Maybe... maybe one of me in an X-Men uniform this time?"

You smiled, thinking of your own portfolio of Kurt, of how art had led you to love, and how that love had led you here, helping these young mutants find their own way to express their unique beauty. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Amy. Just remember—"

"We know, we know," the class chorused together, matching your grin, "there is no right or wrong, only our feelings about our art!”

.

.

.

Evening had settled over the mansion, the last rays of sunlight painting your studio in familiar golden hues. The day's classes were done, art supplies cleaned and stored away, and you'd finally managed to stop blushing from Kurt's teasing comments during your lesson. You were just setting up your easel when the familiar BAMF announced his arrival.

"Ah, mein Schatz," Kurt's voice was warm as he appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tail curling affectionately around your ankle. "Ready for our 'private session'?" You could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"You," you turned in his arms to poke his chest accusingly, "are terrible. Do you know how many knowing looks I got from the students after you left?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I couldn't help myself. You're adorable when you blush. Speaking of which..." His tail reached over to your desk, picking up your sketchbook and flipping it open to reveal today's quick sketches of him during his brief visit to your class. "Someone was inspired during their teaching duties, ja?"

"Kurt!" You tried to snatch the sketchbook, but he teleported across the room, perching on the window seat as he continued flipping through pages.

"Oh, this one is new!" He held up a sketch of himself demonstrating acrobatic moves to your students. "You captured my best side."

"All your sides are your best side," you mumbled before you could stop yourself, then immediately covered your face with your hands as he teleported back to you, gathering you close.

"Is that so?" he murmured against your ear. "Then perhaps we should make sure you have proper reference material for all of them?" His tail gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his tender gaze. "Now then, how would you like me to pose, Liebling?"

You gestured weakly to the arrangement you'd set up—a comfortable chair positioned near the window, where the last of the sunset would cast those perfect shadows you loved to capture. "Just... sitting would be nice. Natural. Like when you're reading in the library."

Kurt's expression softened as he settled into the chair, understanding your desire to capture one of your favorite quiet moments. He pulled out a small book of poetry—Rilke, you noticed—and arranged himself comfortably, his tail draped over the armrest.

"Like this?" he asked, and you nodded, already reaching for your charcoal. This was familiar territory now, though no less special than those first secret sketches. If anything, it was more intimate—knowing he was here specifically for you, watching you create, sharing these peaceful moments together.

As you began to sketch, Kurt started reading aloud softly in German, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. You'd grown to love these evenings, the gentle cadence of his voice mixing with the scratch of charcoal on paper, the way his tail would occasionally twitch in response to a particular phrase or stanza.

"You know," he said during a pause between poems, his golden eyes meeting yours over the top of his book, "I used to wonder why you chose me as your subject so often. Now I think I understand."

You paused in your sketching, curious. "Oh?"

"Ja. It's the same reason I can't stop watching you when you create." He marked his place in the book and leaned forward slightly. "There's something magical about seeing someone doing what they love, being exactly who they are meant to be. You see me that way when I move, when I pray, when I simply exist. And I see you that way when you're lost in your art."

The charcoal trembled slightly in your fingers as he continued, "It's like seeing someone's soul, isn't it? Their truest self?"

You nodded, unable to find words for how perfectly he'd captured it. Kurt rose from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing to where you stood. His hand covered yours on the charcoal, bringing it to rest against the easel.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning you to face him, his tail wrapping around your waist, "we could find other ways to capture this moment?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of poetry and promises. The charcoal slipped forgotten from your fingers as you wound your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming rightness of being held by him.

When you finally parted, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Though I do hope you'll finish the sketch later. I have a reputation as Professional Muse to maintain, after all."

You laughed, the sound mixing with his own quiet chuckle in the golden evening light of your studio, where art and love had become beautifully, perfectly intertwined.

"So how do you wish to capture this moment, hm?" You hummed up at him with a new sense of courage.

Kurt's yellow eyes sparkle with mischief and desire as he gazes down at you, his tail gently squeezing your waist. The sunset light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting the delicate curve of your neck and the soft fullness of your lips. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

"There are so many ways, mein Schatz..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We could start with a kiss..."

And he does, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a passion and tenderness that sets your heart racing. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down your back, pressing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dark with desire. Kurt's tail tightens around you, keeping you anchored against him as he trails his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

"Or perhaps," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you'd like to capture the way my hands feel on your skin?"

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to unbutton your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he reveals more and more of your body to his hungry gaze. Each touch sends sparks of electricity through you, igniting a fire that only seems to grow with each passing second.

As your shirt falls to the floor, Kurt takes a step back, his eyes roving hungrily over your newly exposed skin. His gaze is almost reverent, as if he's drinking in every inch of you like a man dying of thirst.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire. "You're absolutely perfect, Meine Liebe."

His hands come up to cup your breasts, thick fingers brushing over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he begins to circle and tease, building the pleasure slowly but surely. Kurt's hands continue their sensual exploration of your body, tracing every curve and dip with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "To show you how much you mean to me."

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down your shoulders. The garment falls away, baring your breasts to his eager gaze. Kurt pauses for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of you, before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms.

"Perfektion," he breathes, thumbing your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Kurt continues his ministrations, alternating between your breasts, licking and sucking and nipping until you're writhing against him, desperate for more.

His hands drift lower, skimming over your stomach and hips before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He strokes you through the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"So wet already," he marvels, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so responsive, mein Schatz. So perfect."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. You kick them off impatiently, standing before him in nothing but your socks and shoes.

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form with undisguised hunger. He licks his lips, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

"Lie down on the couch," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you." You obey without hesitation, settling into the plush cushions immediately.

 Kurt follows you to the couch, his eyes never leaving your body as he crawls over you, settling between your spread thighs. He runs his hands up your legs, his touch light and teasing, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, spreading your folds with his fingers and exposing your glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You gasp, your hips lifting off the couch as you seek more of his touch.

Kurt chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He looks up at you through his lashes, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

"Patience, mein Schatz," he teases, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet heat. "We have all the time in the world."

And then he's diving back in, his tongue delving deep into your core, lapping at your essence like a man starved. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he feasts on your flesh, his groans of pleasure muffled against your skin. The room fills with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, punctuated by your own breathy moans and gasps.

Kurt brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to tongue-fuck your dripping cunt. The dual stimulation is too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

"That's it, Kleine," he encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "Let go. Come for me."

His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out, your hands fisting in Kurt's hair as waves of pleasure crash over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

Kurt works you through it, his tongue and fingers never faltering as he prolongs your climax, drawing out every last shudder and gasp until you're boneless and spent, collapsing back against the couch in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

He presses one last kiss to your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, settling his weight on top of you. His erection presses insistently against your thigh as he wiggles off his pants, hot and hard and ready for you.*

"I need you, meine Engel," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "I need to be inside you."

He reaches down between your bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the pulsing need that throbs against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're tight," Kurt groans, his hips rocking against yours as he begins to move. "So perfect. So gut."

He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, his cock hitting depths you didn't even know you had. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you whole. Your heart flutters hearing him slur out German and English in a pleasure drunken haze. Kurt's tail wraps around your legs, holding them open wide as he pistons into you, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"So good," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he laves his tongue over your pulse point. "So perfekt. So mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a possessive heat in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your body with each thrust.

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into the fur of his back. "All yours, kurt"

Kurt growls, low and deep, his tail tightening around your legs as he pounds into you with abandon. The couch creaks beneath your combined weight, threatening to give way under the force of his thrusts.

"Ich liebe dich," he slurs, his words muffled against your skin. "Love you so much. Need you. Need to be inside you forever."

His confession sends you careening over the edge, your body seizing up as another orgasm rips through you. You clench around him, your walls fluttering and spasming as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

"Fuck, Prinzessin," Kurt groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Feel so good. So perfect. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

With a final, bruising thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. You can feel the heat of his seed, the way it paints your insides, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he pants against your neck. His tail unwinds from your legs, draping lazily over your thigh as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My perfect girl. Meine schöne Künstlerin."

You smile, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment.

.

.

.

Nearly a year later

The chapel was quiet save for the soft whisper of your pencil across paper. Early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting familiar blue patterns across the wooden pews. Kurt knelt at the altar in prayer, his tail curved peacefully behind him, rosary beads wrapped gently around his three-fingered hands.

You'd grown comfortable here in these morning moments, sharing this sacred space with him. What had once felt like an intrusion now felt like belonging. Your sketchbook was filled with these quiet scenes—Kurt in prayer, Kurt reading his Bible, Kurt simply existing in this place that meant so much to him. But this morning was different. This morning, your hand trembled slightly as you drew, your mind wandering to the small box hidden in your art supplies.

It had taken weeks to create, working late into the night in your studio after Kurt had fallen asleep. A hand-carved wooden ring box, painted with delicate scenes from your relationship—the first time you'd been caught painting him, your first kiss, teaching art class together, quiet moments in the chapel. The ring inside was simple silver, engraved with tiny crosses and artist's brushes intertwined.

"You're thinking very loudly this morning, Liebling," Kurt's voice startled you from your thoughts. He hadn't moved from his position, but his tail swayed knowingly.

"Sorry," you mumbled, adding another shadow to your sketch. "Didn't mean to disturb your prayers."

"You never disturb me," he said softly, finally turning to face you with that gentle smile that still made your heart skip. "Though I am curious what has you so distracted. Usually you're much more focused when drawing in here."

You set down your sketchbook with trembling fingers. "Actually, I... I have something for you."

Kurt's eyebrows rose curiously as you reached into your art bag, pulling out the painted box. His golden eyes widened as you stood and walked to him, kneeling beside him at the altar.

"Kurt Wagner," you began, your voice shaky but determined, "you've been my muse, my inspiration, my best friend, and the love of my life. You've shown me that beauty exists in so many forms, that faith can be found in art just as much as prayer, and that love..." you had to pause, swallowing hard as his tail curled around your wrist encouragingly, "love can be both the masterpiece and the creation itself."

You opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. "Would you let me spend the rest of my life creating with you?"

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the painted scenes on the box, his fingers trailing reverently over the tiny details you'd spent so long perfecting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with tears.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "you've managed to surprise the teleporter." His tail tightened around your wrist as he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours. "Did you really think there could be any answer but yes? You are the greatest masterpiece God has ever placed in my life."

Your laugh was watery as you slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit just as you'd hoped. Kurt cradled your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Though I must say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion, "you've rather stolen my thunder, Liebling." With his tail, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, making you gasp. "I was planning to ask you after morning mass."

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a blue sapphire that matched his fur perfectly. "Great minds think alike, ja?"

You couldn't speak through your tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger, but you didn't need to. The way you pulled him into a kiss said everything necessary, the morning light painting you both in shades of blue and gold through the stained glass windows.

"I can't wait to see how you'll paint this moment," Kurt whispered against your lips, making you laugh.

"Already planning it," you admitted. "Though I might need my muse to pose for several reference sketches."

His tail wrapped around your waist as he grinned. "I believe that can be arranged. After all..." he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, "we have the rest of our lives to perfect it."

Through the chapel windows, the morning light continued to paint you both in blues and golds, artist and muse, two hearts creating something beautiful together. And if anyone noticed that your afternoon art class was especially romantic that day, well... they were kind enough not to mention it. Though you did have to tell Jenny, once again, that no, she still couldn't paint Mr. Wagner for her assignment—even if he was now your fiancé.

.

.

.

You woke up to soft snores and looked over, unable to help but smile softly. Your husband's sleeping face was too cute to not smile at. After five years of being married, you'd never grow tired of waking up to this. Recently he had taken to growing out a goatee, saying it made him look more mature (you couldn't help but agree—after all, it made your mind wander a lot too). You carefully pulled out of his embrace without waking him; his tail was always a struggle to remove from its place around your leg without waking him, but you managed it. After a small silent dance of triumph, you moved out of your shared bedroom to the room across from it.

The room was halfway painted, though you had been working on it for the past six months. It had paintings of stories and family littered across it—scenes from Kurt's favorite fairy tales, the X-Men as loving aunts and uncles, even a small portrait of Professor Xavier smiling benevolently from above the planned crib space. You picked up a brush and were about to continue when you accidentally kicked a paint bucket. That's all it took, and with a sudden puff of smoke your husband had teleported in, his stance ready for action but relaxing when he saw it was just you up early.

"Mein Gott, woman, I thought you were a thief!" He exclaimed, holding his three-fingered hand over his chest before walking over with a soft tired smile and pecking your lips. "You're up early, I don't even hear the morning birds yet."

"Needed to stretch my legs," you hummed back, and he hummed softly in suspicion. His hand rested on your stomach.

"Are you sure it is not because of the Kleine?" He spoke in a teasing voice as he gently rubbed your stomach.

You leaned back against his chest, letting his warmth seep into you as you both gazed at the wall you'd been painting. His tail automatically wrapped around your waist, just above where your small baby bump was beginning to show. "Maybe," you admitted. "I just... I want it to be perfect before they arrive."

Kurt nuzzled against your neck, his goatee tickling your skin. "Liebling, with you as their mother, how could it be anything but perfect?" His hand joined yours on the brush. "Though perhaps we could add a few more acrobatic scenes? A future X-Man should know their father's best moves, ja?"

You laughed softly, mindful of the early hour. "Kurt, we don't even know if they'll be able to teleport yet."

"Ah, but they're already showing artistic talent!" He moved to stand beside you, gesturing dramatically at your stomach. "Look how perfectly they've rounded out your usually straight lines!"

"Did you just call me fat, Mr. Wagner?" you asked with mock offense.

His eyes widened comically. "Nein! Never! I merely meant to say you're more... sculptural these days?" His tail flicked nervously as he tried to backtrack, making you giggle.

"Saved it," you murmured, turning back to the wall. You'd been working on a particular scene—a small blue figure learning to teleport while protective arms waited to catch them. "Do you really think they'll like it? All of this?"

Kurt's arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "Mein Schatz, they will love it. Just as they will love you." His hand splayed protectively over your stomach. "Though perhaps we should add a small easel next to the training equipment? Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

You turned in his arms, brush still in hand, accidentally leaving a small blue streak across his chest. "Oops."

His grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is that how we're playing this morning?" He reached for another brush. "You know, the wall isn't the only canvas in need of some color..."

"Kurt Wagner, don't you dare—" But it was too late. With a playful BAMF, he was behind you, painting a gentle heart on the back of your nightshirt.

What followed was a careful (mindful of your condition) but enthusiastic paint war, filling the nursery with quiet laughter and colorful streaks. By the time the sun began to rise, you were both covered in paint, sitting on the drop cloth and admiring your handiwork—both on the walls and each other.

"You know," Kurt mused, his tail drawing abstract patterns in a small paint puddle, "this might be your best work yet."

You looked around at the cheerful chaos you'd created together—the story-filled walls, the paint-splattered drop cloths, the mixing of your artistic vision with his playful additions. Your hand found his, fingers intertwining as they rested on your growing bump.

"No," you said softly, "I think our best work is still in progress."

His answering smile was brighter than the rising sun, and as he pulled you in for a paint-smudged kiss, you couldn't help but think that sometimes the most beautiful art came from life itself—messy, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

Though you did make him clean up the paint footprints he'd teleported all over the mansion before the students woke up. Your gaze went over to the window which Kurt had helped you place the stain on. The blue hues glittered over the room and it filled you with a sense of love and happiness. Blue would always be apart of your life now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[valyrfia]

your take on lando is so interesting and by far the most nuanced view of him I’ve seen. I think’s it clear that he needs help managing his emotions bc some of things he says and done are baffling and the latest thing of him liking criticism proves it. he doesn’t have that champion mentality (or just seem to be in a good headspace) and a lot of that can be traced backed to McLaren. He messes up his starts every time and that could be linked with a mental barrier but ig no at McLaren cares enough to look into that???Like that’s your driver and your wdc you’re washing down the drain.

but I can’t be too suprised, bc when ppl talk about lando mh McLaren covers their ears and say Lalala can’t hear you (unless yk it benefits them)

I think I retain an enormous amount of empathy for him because prior to this year he was one of my favourites. I think he started acting strange and immature and there was this initial huge backlash but this weekend has kind of made me see things more clearly, between his actions, his words to media, how McLaren handle him, and his driving. And he really is a victim of his environment.

He IS an incredibly good driver. Before you all boo me: sure he's nowhere near Max who's currently in another league, nor is he really near Charles who would be in this championship instead of Lando if not for Ferrari shitting the bed midseason. Lando is however, on par with George, and currently probably better than Carlos and Oscar. I would happily call him the third best driver on the grid at the moment. He however, does have a problem with starts, that's just a fact. As you said anon, it's more than just experience at this point there is obviously some sort of mental block there–he's clearly going into these starts expecting to lose places. But again, like you said, McLaren obviously don't care enough to look into that. Other things this weekend just made me notice: him snapping at a journalist is not and has never been normal behaviour for him, for example, begging McLaren for that switch in the sprint and immediately catastrophising that they won't do it (pressing the radio button immediately to panic and say "I thought we talked about this") is another example of just, slightly abnormal behaviour. That coupled with his internet lurking (he liked an edit of Max a week back, and is now obviously reading his comments) paints a picture I'm not sure I like. I'm never going to assume anything, but considering he's talked about struggling with mental health in the past, I can't help but be a little uneasy on his behalf.

All of the above becomes especially true if we consider McLaren and the case of Daniel Ricciardo. As much as they love to position themselves as the champions in the sport of mental health, the whole Daniel thing remains a worrying incident they've tried their best to sweep under the rug–he never recovered his mentality in that team and instead of working with him the team were perfectly happy to throw him to one side with little regard to prioritise Lando instead. I can't help but feel with a certain sinking that this is what they plan to do with Lando and Oscar, if Lando doesn't win the championship next year. The problem is, Lando is a lot younger than Daniel was, with a lot more career ahead of him and theoretically, a much higher ceiling to reach–yet McLaren seem perfectly happy to not put any development into Lando to help him reach that ceiling. Just like some drivers need developing in the wet, or the dry, or high downforce, or reaction times, some drivers need developing in their mentality. And it is McLaren's job to recognise this if the driver doesn't recognise it in themselves, and tell them what they need to go work on. This should have been something that was flagged as a development area for Lando way before this season, even as far back as 2021 it was apparent and yet McLaren have done nothing to help him and seem happier to just, leave him out to dry.

McLaren is the true evil here and for all their attempts to appeal to a younger demographic and impassioned defences of their morality and mental health being important–I think they've proven that they would rather take the easy road than the right one, even if the right one could yield more results. Oscar struggles with other things that Lando doesn't struggle with ie. tyre management, quali but I think they will repeat their pattern of rather than developing a driver they want to discard an extremely good one in the fruitless search of a generational talent. I hope I'm wrong, but I don't think its impossible that instead of taking responsibility for losing the WDC this year (because make no mistake, this is mostly their fault–from a strategy point of view to how they've managed their drivers to refusing to give Lando the support he needs until its too late) they will just try and shift the blame and indirectly pin the failure of this year on Lando in order to try and match public sentiment. Ultimately, Lando has been failed by his team and his environment more than anything and even though I'm happy this championship has (deservedly) gone to Max, I can't help but feel that Lando was not given a fighting chance by his team.

[growth-opportunities]

You signed up for a yoga class, but didn’t realize it’s yoga specialized for busty women

Another one that got away from me! Took the prompt in a slightly different direction than you probably intended, but I don't think you'll mind too much. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Lana opened the door to the classroom, she froze, an embarrassed warmth flaring on her cheeks and down the back of her neck. A cautionary voice rang out inside her mind: I don't belong here. I don't belong here. Her eyes scanned the room and, everywhere she looked, there were plush, soft curves. The two women chatting in one corner of the room stood feet apart from each other and yet the space between them was almost entirely filled with soft flesh. A woman near the front stretched her arms above her head and more tit spilled out of the collar and arms of her sports bra than Lana had on the entirety of her chest. Lana's girlfriend sported an impressive pair herself, but it wasn't until now that Lana's A cups made her feel small, staring at a room of women whose sports bra could fit her own head multiple times over. She shifted the rolled-up mat on her hip, nervously adjusting the strap of her slightly unnecessary, steel grey sports bra, and started to-

"Oh, you must be Lana! Caroline's girlfriend, right?"

Shit.

Lana's heart leapt into her throat as her exit was halted, cringing that someone had noticed her at all. She looked up to see someone bouncing towards her, instinctively assuming her to be the instructor. The lavender sports bra (which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be two sports bras) struggled to hold back the gigantic breasts that bounced towards her. Each one was big enough for Lana to use as a pillow, covering an impressive and intimidating portion of the instructor's torso. Lana wanted to run, but her legs wouldn't move. All she could do was watch, entranced, as the woman sloshed towards, her, the tight red ponytail swishing behind her head. Her smile seemed genuine, at least, as she extended a hand towards Lana. "I'm Veronica; I teach the class."

A polite response mumbled its way out of Lana, the 'new student' reaching out and taking Vernoica's hand. The moment she did, though, the world blurred around her before being blocked by a vast sea of softness. Lana's head, now buried in Veronica's cleavage, swam as soft flesh surrounded her, Veronica's athletic scent filling her lungs. She struggled but all that did was send ripples through the gargantuan bosom that held her captive. The hug ended as abruptly as it started, leaving Lana to catch her breath and attempt to straighten out her now-messy brown hair. A giggle shook Veronica's tits. "Sorry, I hope I didn't startle you. I'm a hugger, what can I say?"

Still reeling from the encounter with the largest tits that Lana had ever seen, she just nodded. "Y-yeah, uh, well, it's nice to meet you, but I should probably be going. I... I don't think this class is for me."

The instructor furrowed her brow, her head tilting to one side. "Leaving already? But you just got here! At least give one class a try! And you look super cute in that outfit, so you have to stay. Come on! It'll be fun!"

Veronica tried to take Lana's hand, but the smaller woman was faster, yanking it away. "No, really, I don't think I belong here. I'll tell Caroline Hi for you, but I think I should-"

Just as Lana tried to turn towards the door, Veronica's hand shot forward and slammed it shut, the loud sound drawing the attention of the half-dozen massively busty women scattered around the room. The feeling of smallness that plagued Lana since she entered the room compounded. Veronica's voice dropped down a few levels, gaining a husky, domineering quality that resonated deep into the core of Lana's body. "You're already signed up for the class, Lana. You should take it. What are you so worried about? Are you embarrassed because your girlfriend signed you up for the Big Titty Yoga class and didn't tell you?"

The retort that began to form in Lana's throat was immediately quashed as Veronica openly addressed the elephant (Or cow, rather) in the room. Lana's eyes filled with apprehension as she looked to Vernoica, her fear only growing at the way the instructor chuckled. "Oh, yes, your first instinct was right. It's not just coincidence that all the women in this class have massive chests." As Veronica talked, the other women gathered close, closing in on the small, slender woman, desperate to make herself even smaller under their gaze. Lana's heart skipped a beat as Veronica's hand grabbed her chin to keep her from looking away. "So, yeah, I suppose you don't qualify. Your little A cups are cute, but they don't really fit the class. Don't worry, though. We can fix that."

Lana opened her mouth to reply but her words were stifled as Caroline suddenly pulled up her sports bra and shoved a thumb-thick nipple between Lana's tits. The flow of milk was immediate and relentless, quickly bulging Lana's cheeks. Veronica pushed forward, trapping Lana against the door and making sure she couldn't pull away. "Relax, Lana. I promise you'll enjoy this. Just swallow." Every instinct she had was pulling Lana towards swallowing, but she fought as desperately as she could, right up until Veronica started pushing on Lana's throat, stroking downward, guiding her to swallow. Finally, getting short on air, Lana surrendered, milk rushing down her throat and into her tummy.

The women encircling the two of them grinned and tittered as Lana's eyes rolled back in her head. Her spine arched forward, pushing her chest out and drawing the sports bra tight over her breasts. And tighter. And tighter. And tighter. If Lana hadn't been guzzling milk like a starving calf, she'd have been able to notice the fact that her breasts had surged forward, pushing her sports bra to its limits. Tit spilled out underneath the strap, out from the collar, the fabric creaking as it did its damnedest to hold back the rising tide of breast. The sound of shredding elastic is what finally snapped Lana out of her trance, her hands moving up to her tits. Her tits. Her fingers sank into the doughy flesh, moaning around Veronica's nipple, feeling them spread her fingers wider by the moment. They grew softer, rounder, heavier, moving through cup sizes in the blink of an eye.

With a wet pop!, Veronica pulled her nipple (now slightly swollen) from Lana's mouth, leaving the newly busty woman gasping for air, ragged breaths clawing air into her lungs. She stared in awe at the massive breasts before her, still not able to fully accept that they were her own. Experimentally, she pinched and rolled one of the nipples, her thighs immediately slamming together as stimulation and pleasure wash through her body, a desperate moan trumpeting from her throat. Her legs weakened, Lana slid down the door, looking up wearily at Veronica, struggling to find her words.

"What... What did you do to me?!"

Veronica giggled, the same sweet laughter as before as if the last few minutes had been some sort of strange waking nightmare. "This is the Big Titty Yoga Class, so I gave you some Big Titties! Come on, let's get your mat set up. We're already running late. Don't worry. I know for a fact that Caroline is going to love them. She couldn't get enough of mine!"

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

How to Use Absurdist Humor

I will often excuse away the “worst” of Marinette’s behavior with a very dismissive, “It’s an obvious joke, so there’s no point taking this as a serious character beat. Let’s not waste our time here.”

While I stand by that statement, I can see why some people struggle with this approach. Miraculous has made the unfortunate choice to tie the humor to parts of the narrative that have actual meaning to the audience. This undercuts the power of the humor, making it hard for some people to separate the humor from the actual character beats, so let’s step back and look at a show that did this right to show what I mean.

That’s right, folks, it’s time for more gushing about Kim Possible!

For today’s case study, we'll start with episode 17 of season one: The Twin Factor. In this episode, Kim is stuck babysitting her little brothers while on a mission to stop her arch nemesis. You may be thinking that Kim's "flaw" in this episode is the fact that she brings two 10-year-olds on a dangerous mission.

You would be wrong.

This is the lead-in to Kim bringing the twins along:

Kim: Er, speaking of forgetting, I totally spaced on the baby-sitting. Mrs. Dr. Possible: Kimmy, you made a commitment. Kim: Two commitments, actually. I'm suppose to go on a mission today. Mr. Dr. Possible: You'll just have to take the boys. Kim: Mom, can you please tell Dad that's a bad idea? Mrs. Dr. Possible: Oh, Kimmy. I'm sure Jim and Tim would love to visit a secret lab with you.

This is how you do absurdist humor. Is this technically horrible parenting? Yes, but there is no way that anyone is taking this seriously. It’s just so over the top that anyone trying to criticize the Possible’s behavior comes across as completely missing the point.

The other important factor is that Kim’s parents are played as genuinely loving and supportive parents, just in a really absurd way. This is a very natural bit of loving family dialogue about a totally ridiculous version of a normal family conflict. None of these three characters show off flaws that we expect to see address here save for their complete lack of concern about Kim’s life-risking adventures.

If Kim’s parents were shown to be genuinely neglectful or if Kim’s adventures were played more seriously, then this humor wouldn’t work anywhere near as well as it does. It would still be an obvious joke, but it would stumble the landing if you knew that the episode would go on to see Jim and Tim die. (They don’t, btw. The absurdist humor carries on, I’m just giving an extreme example of a plot beat that would kill – or at least weaken – this humor.)

Another example of Kim Possible doing absurdist humor right comes from the next episode in season one: Animal Attraction. In this episode, Kim is up against Senior Senior Senior, an eccentric billionaire who pursues villainy as a hobby, leading to exchanges like this one between him and his son:

Jr.: Did we not leave Kim Possible on a conveyor belt to her doom? Sr.: Yes. A proper villain always leaves his foe when he's about to expire. Jr.: Why? Sr.: Well, it would be bad form just to lull about, waiting for it. Jr.: Why? Sr.: Tradition!

This episode has a lot of moments like this. Moments where Jr asks why they don't do the obvious, more easy/effective thing and his father blows him off because that's not how villains do things! It's totally illogical logic and it's great. I love it! Perfect example of absurdist villains and a great way to keep the show from getting too serious. The writers never wanted you to feel like Kim was in over her head.

If you look at these two examples and compare them to Miraculous, you'll notice a big difference. While Miraculous does occasionally pull off good absurdist humor, a lot of the absurdist humor is more questionable because it's tied to the show's central conflicts.

As an example, let's talk about Marinette's inability to confess to Adrien and all the nonsense tied to that. Her many failures and attempts to know him better are clearly jokes, but they have this serious edge because the show has not set up the love square as nothing more than a source of humor. This is our end game couple. The audience expects to see their romance developed. The longer the show goes on without doing that and the more absurd Marinette's attempts get, the less the comedy works.

Another good example is Lila's lies. There is a solid argument to be made that the writers are trying to be funny with Lila's extremely obvious lies, but it doesn't work because the lies are a source of serious conflict. Lila is working with the villain! She gets Marinette expelled! We want to see her outed! Every obvious lie she tells just grates on our nerves because this is not the time for jokes!

To be fair, you can use absurdist humor in more serious shows. Another of my personal favorites is The Good Place, which relies heavily on absurdist humor, but has a very serious and heartfelt overall plot. The humor works there because the show knew when to use the humor and when to be serious and also because The Good Place is not a formula show. It's a serialized show. One big story told in 20-minute chunks. This meant that the humor had more room to breath and could be more closely tied to serious conflicts. When every story has to stand alone and be finished in 20-minutes, that blending rarely ever works. You're trying to do too much.

Kim Possible's writers knew this, too. The two tie-in movies (Kim Possible: A Sitch in Time and So the Drama) are still comedies, but they both have far more serious tones because they had the time to do that. While the episodes run about 20 minutes, both movies run a little over and hour which meant they could be more serious than in a standard episode.

So why did I write all that up? Because I was watching Kim Possible and thinking about how much better the humor generally was and I suddenly realized how easy it would be to be confused by Miraculous' humor if you didn't have this kind of background. I've seen enough absurdist humor to identify it with ease and even I struggle with Miraculous at times. Like I'm still not sure if Lila's lies are supposed to be a joke or not.

If you're new to absurdist humor or struggle to interpret less overt humor? Then I can see how you'd take Miraculous way more seriously than the writers intended because a lot of the absurdist humor simply isn't absurd enough. That doesn't change the fact that it's humor and I'm still going to treat it as such, but I can see why it goes right over some people's heads and leads to complaints like, "Marinette has his schedule for the next three years!!!" That was a joke, but I get why you're missing it.

[redvexillum]

YESSSSSSS THREESOME LESSS GOOOO!!!!!!!

Right from the start, the premise of two powerful overlords vying for the affection of one daring character sets up such an enticing conflict - RADIOSTATIC x READER IS KING!!!!!! I love the complexity of their relationships! You’ve made it clear that there are stakes involved, which makes the reader feel every ounce of the tension when they realize she’s playing both sides. Srsly, naughty, naughty, reader, tsk tsk!

The banter between Alastor and Vox is witty and sharp, and you can feel the underlying competition and camaraderie. I love how they both share that history of being “old-timey assholes,” and the way they bounce off each other adds so much DELICIOUS flavor to the point where I'm licking the plate asking for more. Their playful jabs at each other really show off their personalities while keeping the tension high, especially when they confront the reader about her choices.

The descriptions in this scene are so vivid! The imagery of the old broadcasting room, complete with dust and the remnants of their past, sets such an atmospheric backdrop for the unfolding drama. And can we talk about how you build the physicality of the moment? The way you describe the grip of their hands, the tension in their bodies, and the electric charge in the air is all so intoxicating! I could practically feel the heat radiating off the page.

Your writing is masterful when it comes to balancing the sexy with the suspenseful. The way you depict her internal struggle—trying to escape but also caught in this intoxicating web of desire—is so well done!

And that suspenseful moment when she tries to escape only to be caught? Oh, yes! The thrill of danger mixed with lust is just everything I could want!

Then when it shifts to the moment of submission, the way the scene ramps up in intensity is just mind-blowing! The duality of pleasure and submission, especially when she’s caught between them, is beautifully executed. You’ve created a fantastic atmosphere that feels both thrilling and dangerous, which adds layers to the sensuality of the moment.

From the start, you can feel the palpable tension as Alastor and Vox navigate their rivalry while circling you like sharks. The power dynamics are so well crafted—each word drips with the anticipation of what’s to come. You’ve got Alastor’s cunning nature paired with Vox’s raw, intense energy, and it’s just chef’s kiss perfection! 🍽️✨

I just adore the way you manage to weave the characters’ quirks while keeping the atmosphere so sexy. I was hanging onto every word, waiting for that perfect climax (figuratively and literally bow-chika wow-wow), and you delivered in spades! The moment when both of them reach their peak, and the world seems to stop—it was "electrifying" hehe!

Honestly, thanks for feeding us Alastor AND Vox lover. If we can't pick one, why not both, amirite or amirite? 🥵💖

Joint Broadcast (RadioStatic x Reader)

CW: Cheating, Dubcon, brat taming, Anal, double penetration, caught cheating, nonconsensual broadcast Rated: Adult Requested by: @nyx-umbrakinesis Summary: You thought you could have your cake and eat it, too. In this case, your cakes were Alastor and Vox in romantic and sexual relationships. Sure, you didn't disclose your entanglements with the other but what were the odds they would find out? When the unexpected comes to reality, you're left alone with two angry men who could end your existence. They intend to punish you but in the last way you expect…

It wasn’t uncommon for the Overlords of the Pride ring to have personal entanglements. When you’re as powerful as they are, it was hard to trust anyone lower than them to be vulnerable with enough to engage in any meaningful sexual encounters. Well, that was true for most of them. 

Some, like Valentino thrived on the power indifference, seeking out partners he could destroy in a moment. Most of the overlords instead wanted worthy partners, that left slim pickings and even slimmer pickings for someone like you who had an appetite for variety in addition to quality in your lovers. 

That’s how you found yourself balancing two of the most powerful overlords in your free time. You knew you needed to pick one. Having them both, especially in secret and behind the backs of both was a dangerous game that could get you killed if you got sloppy. 

Good thing you were anything but sloppy. Or so you thought. 

Vox sat one of the old unused broadcasting rooms, face to face with the one man he struggled most to be in the same room with. Dust floated through the air, kicked up by the agitated pacing of the tall man dipped in blood red. It sparkled in the old lights as the microphone tip of his cane spun through the air. 

“Both of us?” Alastor asked, not looking toward the screen faced man leaning against the old radio broadcasting panel. Behind him was old set, a remnant of his early broadcasts in hell and the only one he hadn’t updated, yet. “You’re certain it’s not just wishful thinking on your part?” 

“Seriously?” Vox’s claws dug into the broadcasting, gouging through the rusty metal as if it was nothing. 

“I mean no offense, old pal,” Alastor said, laughing. “I simply thought she had better taste than that. 

“I could say the same,” Vox countered, screen glitching momentarily. “She’s with you after all.” 

“My point exactly!” Alastor laughed, taking great joy in the way Vox had walked into the insult. 

“She should be here in a few minutes,” Vox said as Alastor’s ear flicked, catching the sound of her footsteps along the sidewalk. 

“And we’ll have answers.” Alastor said darkly, “Then you’ll know you were nothing but a second best, a fleeting fancy to pass the time.” 

Vox opened his digital mouth to answer only to close it as the doorknob rattled, squeaking as you turned it. Alastor dissolved into shadows, determined make his entrance a grand event.

“Vox?” You called out, voice timid as you stepped through the door. “What is this place?” 

“Come on in, Dollface.” Vox called, screen shining through the dim room, “Lock the door behind you.” 

You shook your hair behind your head and rocked your hips as you walked to Vox. When you were with Vox, you took on a more sultry, forward manner. That was what Vox liked. He would dissolve into puddy in your hands. The way he would whimper as you rode him gave you such a thrill. 

“What is this place?” You asked, looking around as your heels clicked against the tile floors. 

“Old broadcasting studio.” Vox said, wrapping you in his arms as you reached him. He slotted himself behind you, making sure you were right where he wanted you. “From back in the day.” 

“Oh?” You tried to turn, wanting to indulge in the electric kiss of your lover only to be held in place. 

“You see,” Vox said, pointing with his long arm reaching out in front of you, “Right there is where I filmed and broadcasted my early shows.” 

“And what was the rest of the room used for?” You whispered, looking around as best you could only to have your blood run cold as shadows morphed and liquified, a man who’s form you were also intimately familiar with rising up from them. 

“Why, my dear,” Alastor cooed, “It was my broadcasting room.” 

“Alastor?” You tried to jerk from Vox’s arms only to be held tightly in place.

“Ha! Can you believe there was a time when TV and Radio worked together?” Alastor laughed, yellow smile glowing under the warm lights. 

“We had gotten along pretty well, back in the day,” Vox added. “We shared pretty damn well, didn’t we?” 

“Indeed,” Alastor cooed, stepping closer. “We used to share our toys well, but now?” 

“Not so much,” Vox finished for Alastor. “But someone decided to make us share anyway.” 

“Didn’t even bother telling us,” Alastor added, standing directly in front of you now. He booped your nose with the red backing of his microphone. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I didn’t think you’d find out.” You tried to keep your head held high as you forced yourself to meet the red eyes of the Radio Demon. If this was how you were going to die, you would be double damned if you didn’t go down without the last word. 

“She thought we wouldn’t find out, Al!” Vox laughed loudly behind you, familiar nickname falling from his lips as if it hadn’t been decades since it had been las used. 

“No, I didn’t.” You answer, trying to tug yourself out of Vox’s arms. “I figured two arrogant old-timey assholes wouldn’t spare a thought to what I was doing when I wasn’t with them.” 

“Old-timey asshole?” Vox voiced his outrage behind you, screen glitching as you let a spark of fire out from a palm of you hand, turning it to face him. 

Their raw power far overshadowed yours’ but you were eager to at least put some distance between them. If you could get out of Vox’s arms and somehow out the door, maybe you could run fast enough to get away, then you would just have to lay low. 

Vox stepped back, shouting at the sting of the flames as they singed his suit, just as you had hoped. In the process, he left you an opening you didn’t hesitate in the slightest to take. 

Alastor was quick to step toward you, though he was met with a flash of fire. The light was blinding in the dim space, making it hard to see anything as you raced to the door, counting on the fire to keep the stronger demons busy for at least a few minutes. 

Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back to a hard chest as your fingertips just grazed the doorknob. Looking down, you saw red across your abdomen, black hand gripping you, red claws digging into your side. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” The static that surrounded Alastor cackled. You tried to spark a flame, sending it to wash over the dangerous man only to have it swallowed in his shadows, snuffing it out. 

“Away from you, old man.” with no other options, you stomped on his foot. The action was born more out of reflex than hope. 

“Old man?” Alastor laughed, lifting you as if you were nothing but a petulant child, disregarding your struggles. 

“Such old men we are that you thought you needed us both.” Vox grumbled as Alastor tossed you to the ground, taking a moment to enjoy the way your skirt rose up, just failing to cover the curve of your ass. 

“What are we going to do about this?” Alastor asked as if he and Vox hadn’t already come to the conclusion, unbuttoning his coat.

“We’re going to have to teach her a lesson,” Vox said as he slipped his coat down his shoulders, tossing it onto the old dusty office chair Alastor used to sit in decades ago, broadcasting the screams of those who dared cross him. A red coat joined the blue one as both men began to circle you while they pulled their bow ties from their necks. 

“What is happening?” Your voice trembled as you scooted away, only to have a black tentacle wrap around your ankle, preventing you from trying to escape. 

“We’re going to give you exactly what you wanted,” Alastor said as he worked the first few buttons of his shirt free. 

“You wanted to have your cake and to eat it, too.” Vox said, working his way out of the red and black striped vest he wore. 

“And now you’re going to have that cake,” Alastor picked up the line with the fluidity of an old friendship you were not aware had ever existed between the two men. 

“And you’re going to clean the fucking plates,” Vox finished, unbuttoning a the first few buttons around his neck. “And you’ll have to decide which cake you want.” 

“What are you-” Alastor’s tentacle pulled you up by the ankle, suspending you in the air, cutting your words off with a squeak. 

Your hair fell around your face. The skirt you wore succumbed to the forces of gravity. You hadn’t bothered with panties or a bra, being so sure that you were going to get dicked down by the TV demon and knowing that he appreciated ease of access. 

“We’re going to fuck you,” Vox answered the question you hadn’t gotten to finish asking.

The clattering of belt buckles and unzipping of pants seemed so loud in the old room. In a matter of moments, while blood was rushing to your head, you were lowered to be eye level with the two very different and yet very impressive cocks of your lovers. 

“Open,” Alastor said, shaking you by the leg when you hesitated.

Vox wasted no time shoving his dark blue cock into your mouth, thrusting until the force pushed your torso back through the air. Reaching out, you planted your hands on his thighs, steadying yourself as he fucked into your mouth. You choked, struggling to breathe in the strange position. 

Vox didn’t stop until he was satisfied with the way your saliva coated his thick cock. Once he pulled back, you gasped for air. There wasn’t enough of a chance to ground yourself before Alastor was shoving his long cock, working his way to the back of your throat again and again. 

Spit and tears ran up your face, making a mess of your makeup when they finally righted you, setting you on the broadcasting station, currently lit up with tiny dials and switches that looked like stars. Had it been powered on before? 

“How wet do you think she is right now?” Vox asked, “She likes it rough with me.” 

“Does she?” Alastor hummed, grabbing one of your knees while Vox grabbed the other, spreading them wide. “Would you look at that? The literary overlord likes it dirty! Ha, now- why didn’t you say anything? Ma cherie, if you don’t communicate your needs, how can any one man satisfy them all?” 

“Why should one man have to satisfy them all?” You answered back, refusing to meet the eyes of your lovers. Instead your eyes ran over the old broadcasting microphone, so much like the one Alastor currently used at the hotel and yet this one was covered in dust. 

“Why shouldn’t one?” Vox asked, running a clawed finger up your sopping slit, tracing a path around your clit before moving down again, poking into your opening before moving lower still, spreading your slick over your lesser used puckered asshole. 

You moaned as his finger sank into the tight opening. Alastor reached out, caressing your clit as Vox’s finger wigged deeper inside your ass, helping your body to relax. 

“Fuck, Al- she’s so tight here,” Vox couldn’t help the way he moaned, imagining you squeezing around his cock as he added a second finger, stretching you open. 

“Is that where you’d like to be?” Alastor asked, soft smile on his face as he watched your hips twitch, betraying your stubborn silence. 

“What do you mean?” You ground out, struggling to keep your voice even as Alastor caressed you closer to the edge. 

“My, our little brat needs it spelled out for us.” Vox pushed his fingers apart as he pulled them out of you, spreading the tense ring of muscle wider again and again. 

“Of course she does,” Alastor hummed, “She was stupid enough to think she could get away with this.” 

“We’re going to fuck you,” Vox said as if that cleared things up for you, pulling his fingers from your body. 

“Together,” Alastor added, gathering your slick onto his fingers and wrapping them over his long cock, smearing it along with the drying saliva, “Now be a good girl and roll over,” 

“Make me,” you spat out only to have Alastor and Vox both do exactly that. There wasn’t much you could do to put up a fight with four hands pushing your body into position. 

“Go on,” Alastor said, motioning to Vox. 

The thickness gave Vox away as he ran his dark blue cock up and down your folds, There was no containing the moan that poured from your lips as he pushed inside your cunt, stretching you wide as he coated himself in your slick. 

“Shuffle back,” Alastor directed, kicking your feet until your abdomen hung off the edge of the control panel. Blinking your eyes, you came face to face with the microphone. It must have gotten jostled as you were bullied into place. 

Alastor reached around you, fingers playing over the nub of nerves that headed your folds, relaxing you as Vox’s cock pushed into the tight ring of muscle. It burned, even with the sweet distraction of Alastor’s fingers. 

Vox thrusted shallowly into you at first, moving slowly but never fully stopping for you to adjust. Each thrust took his fat length deeper into your ass as you cried out. Legs shook as they struggled to support your weight, knowing that if they gave out you’d fall back and spear yourself on the rest of Vox’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Vox whined, screen and voice glitching as he bottomed out, pressing his balls against your leaking cunt. Your ass was gripping him tighter than a vice and he knew it was only going to get better. “Fuck, she’s so tight.” 

“Yes, I gathered.” Alastor sounded disinterested as he motioned for Vox to get on with it. “Pull her up.” 

Vox rolled his eyes at the direction. One of them had done this before and it wasn’t Alastor, though he acted like it. Anything for appearances, anything for the show- Vox knew that. That’s just how Alastor was. 

Vox pulled you up from the broadcasting desk, reaching forward to pull the top of your dress down. One of the straps over your shoulder ripped as your breasts were exposed only to be covered by his hands.

He turned, presenting you to Alastor as if his cock wasn’t twitching inside of your ass, desperate for friction. “How’s she look?”

“Sinful,” Alastor said as he admired the view, taking in the swell of your breasts as Vox’s hands left them. One dark blue hand braced your hip, keeping your ass tight against him as the other lifted your thigh, spreading your leg open wide. 

“Fuck,” You whined as vox thrust forward, sending his cock deeper into your ass as he displayed your cunt and stretched asshole to the man you had been seeing behind his back. “Fuck, Vox.” 

“You say that now,” Alastor said, grabbing your other thigh and pulling your leg up, leaving you supported by nothing but their hands and the cock in your ass. 

Your hips jumped forward as Alastor ran the head of his cock against your clit. The thick head ran through your folds, smearing slick along his length. Vox moaned shamefully as Alastor’s cock brushed against the base of his cock, running along where your ass had swallowed him. 

“You going to wait all day?” Vox demanded, legs straining with the desire to move. 

“Oh, alright.” Alastor made a show of sighing as he lined the head of his cock up with your vaginal opening, enjoying the way your eyes widened as you realized what they intended to do. 

“No,” you said, trying to wiggle away only to find your arms held out to the sides by dark ropes of shadows, “I can’t- it- it won’t fit. I can’t fit you both,” 

“You can,” Vox promised. 

“You will,” Alastor added as the head of his cock pushed inside. 

You could feel him pushing against the thin wall that separated the two pathways. From the way Vox moaned deeply, screen leaning forward to rest against he back of your head, he could feel Alastor’s cock pushing into you as well. 

“Fffffuck,” Alastor groaned as he reached deeper and deeper inside you, running along Vox’s cock, “so tight like this.” 

“I told you,” Vox was panting as your opening grew tighter around his cock. His mind struggled to think of anything but the way Alastor’s cock caressed his through the thin walls. 

Alastor stilled, bottoming out within you. His head hung over your shoulder, breath washing over both your shoulder and Vox’s. He could feel the twitch of Vox inside you, the difference of sensation nearly too much. With a rock of his hips, Alastor moaned as his balls pressed unto you, nestling between his cock and Vox’s.

The sensation was overwhelming, threatening to take him over the edge before he had begun. That would simply not do. There was a point to be made. The show must go on. 

Alastor took a deep breathe, willing his self-control to steady before pulling back. The thrust into you that followed was so harsh it sent your body bouncing up, pulling up along Vox’s shaft. 

“Fuck,” Vox whined, grip on your hips guiding your bouncing body as you fell back down on his cock as Alastor pulled back. Using the space Alastor vacated, Vox thrust up, bouncing you on the head of Alastor’s cock. 

In a few short thrusts, they had found a rhythm that was punishing for you and yet sustainable for them. As soon as one cock withdrew from your body, another was shoving in. Vox reached around your torso, pinching a nipple harshly between his claws as your body bounced. 

“You’re so tight, babydoll,” Vox cooed in your ear, bathing in the gasping moans that were quickly growing in volume. 

“Taking us so well,” Alastor wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you down against the cocks rutting into you one after the other. The slight change of angle had your clit rubbing against the fur at the base of Alastor’s cock with each of his thrusts. 

“Ah! Fuck,” You cried out as Alastor leaned forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. 

“Fuck, Al!” Vox moaned even as he tried t put on a show of disgust. He had always said he found Alastor’s cannibalistic habits distasteful, but the truth was, the only distasteful thing was what the sight did to him. 

Alastor moaned, feeling you tighten around his cock, orgasm drawing near. He was close too, the taste of your blood on his tongue driving him to thrust faster into you. Vox was likewise close, Alastor knew. There was no hiding the way the other man twitched in your ass, rubbing against Alastor’s cock with each move he made. 

“Who’s fucking you?” Vox demanded as he twisted your nipple, a delicious pain that was such a part of your rough fucks with Vox sending tightening waves through your cunt. 

“You,” you panted, drool running from the corner of your mouth as your head lulled. “You are.” 

“Who’s fucking your ass?” Vox asked, smiling at the camera you hadn’t noticed was set up in the corner. “Tell the viewers.” 

“Vox,” you whined, not registering what he said. 

“And tell the listeners who’s taking your cunt?” Alastor said, pulling the microphone closer to ensure your voice was picked up clearly. 

“A-ah- Alastor,” you clenched around them. “I’m so close,” 

“Good girl,” Vox purred, electric tongue running up the back of your neck, sending tinkles down your spine. “You going to cum on our cocks now?” 

“Yes,” you repeated the answer, a chant growing in volume as both men thrust into you, too many hands holding your body steady as they lost their coordinated rhythm, “Yes, yes, yes!” 

You screamed as you came, body convulsing from your fingertips to your toes. Your cry bounced off the walls in the old room, mixing with the grunted moans and hissed curses as first Vox found his release, seed spilling deep into your ass. Alastor was two short thrusts after, dumping his load of hot cum into your waiting walls. 

Vox leaned back, chest rising and falling in rapid pants as he collapsed onto the desk, not giving a shit about what buttons or dials he could be messing with. Each twitch of the cocks inside your abused body had you crying out. 

Alastor pulled you up off of Vox’s spent cock, not removing his own until he was ready to set your feet on the ground. Seed mixed and ran down legs that failed to support your weight. 

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air in your lungs as your body trembled with the aftershocks of the orgasm. Blackness overcame your vision as you laid down on the cold ground, letting the icy tile ground you. 

“Well, that was fun,” Vox said, winded voice coming through the darkness. 

“Surprisingly so,” Alastor’s voice was the last thing you heard as exhaustion overtook you. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[ember-amber]

Okay since I'm already thinking about mecha, here's something I would really like from the next armored core game.

Simplicity.

Some of the most enjoyable and immersive times I've had in armored core were in ac3 in the garage, thinking about my mech.

There I was not a puppet in some guy's great plan to burn a planet, or a rebel, or the protector of a whole city, I was just a simple mercenary struggling to make do in a corporate dystopia. I'd be brought along to such plots eventually, but at the start I was completely by myself.

Imagining my character browsing the parts shop on her phone, sitting inside her mech eating a meal with it parked in the garage, drooling at the sight of one of the weapons available and then complaining about the price. Just a short little roleplaying moment that I found fun, you know?

[eldritch-spouse]

I can imagine a distant future of Santi overcoming his nature and finally realizing his dreams of having and raising kids. Then, one time he goes to visit his old friend Vesper who's like " So how are you and your *gags* chi- *gags* child *gags* the family is doing ?"

[*Snort*. This is a collection of little moments between Santi and Vesper after Santi has kids.]

Santi doesn't visit as often.

It's only a given, not only does he now have children of his own to take care of, the incubus also knows his presence has stopped being as pleasant to the Ring of Lust as it once was.

He's not necessarily surprised by such.

After all, Santi behaves in a much more subdued manner, dresses a lot more, his clothes have the stink of children, even when he washes them. He can't blame Vesper for scratching at himself and snorting in distaste every now and then. They are still friends, but life has taken them down very different paths.

That doesn't mean some encounters aren't funny to the incubus.

" No. No no! " The King covers his eyes with a clawed hand. " You did not just walk into my chambers with a turtleneck sweater. "

Santi's cheeks are puffed. " King Ves- "

" A fucking sweater, this absolute- " Santi can't help but let a cackle slip. " Take it off right now, I feel sick- I'm going to call the imps over to strip you if you don't! "

[...]

Santi passes his phone to the King, allowing the demonlord to swipe through an album full of family pictures.

Vesper's lips keep curling higher at every picture, no matter how much he tries to muffle that response.

" Well uhm. They're... They sure are. " The King tries, but all he sees are snot-nosed ankle biters who likely stink of all that's nasty.

" They are. " Santi parrots, a devious grin on his face at the other's discomfort.

" I- " A long, pensive hum follows. " They look... "

" Is it really that hard? " The darker demon snickers.

" I'm finding it, Santi. Be patient. "

[...]

While cooking, you get to listen to a call between your husband and the King of Lust on speaker. When the topic becomes inappropriate, both adults switch to infernal language. Santi helps your daughter dress her baby doll, while your son sits by the carpet watching his favorite show.

" Alright, I should get a move on. " Santi says, watching you struggle with a few pans. " We can catch up eventually. Say bye to uncle Vee. "

Both children parrot mildly enthusiastic goodbyes, until your son pipes up. "Dad? " Santi hums. " When will uncle Vee visit? "

" Never. " Comes from the phone immediately, and the incubus doesn't need to see the King to know he's shivering in dread.

Your kids start deflating, to which their father is quick to think of something. " Ah, see, uncle Vee can't visit us. "

" Why? " The little girl sits her doll down, now brushing its hair.

" Uhm. " The incubus opens and closes his mouth a few times. " He's trapped in a biiig castle. " Pause. " And there's a dragon. "

" A dragon?! " Your son's fixation has been mentioned, he's almost vibrating.

" Yes. " Santi nods. " It's very big. And it doesn't like little boys and girls. "

" Aww.... " Both of them huff.

The girl frowns. " I'm sorry uncle Vee. "

" No, it's quite alright. I'll live, the dragon isn't that bad. " Vesper seems to sigh in relief.

" That means a knight is going to save you soon! " She brightens up immediately. " And then he's going to woo you, and you're going to marry! Can I go to the wedding, uncle Vee? Can I? "

Santi covers his mouth with his palm so as to not openly bark in laughter.

" I uh- Y-Yes, of course sweetie. Goodbye now, the uh, dragon, is calling me... "

[littlemissstel]

Miss Detective- Shiu Kong

detective!reader, use of (Y/n), swearing, not proofread

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Shiu gets a visit from an old co-worker who knows a little more than she should.

Shiu sprung up with a sleep drunken expression, cursing out at whatever being dared to disturb his much craved slumber. The poor man had spent more nights awake than days; and while the incessant knocking that threatened to break down his door was irritating, what annoyed him the most was that he knew it couldn't be important. Besides for the old man that lived two doors down asking for help with his thermostat, there were no other reasons for the intrusion; he'd already messed with all the salesmen to the point of being blacklisted and no one from work knew his home address, even going as far to send packages to a separate storage unit.

So why wouldn't they just shut up?

Begrudgingly leaving the warmth of his estranged bed he made his way to the commotion, not bothering to look through the peep hole before swinging the door open with a deep sigh. He hoped the force didn't leave a hole in his precious wall- one more thing to do this weekend- but the exaggerated display felt more than justifiable in the moment.

He scrutinized the audacious figure with squinted eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep that clouded his gaze. The hair...The face...a woman?

You?

"Hello Mr Kong, long time no see." you say, offering a smile that faltered as fast as it came.

Shiu's mouth hung open slightly before moving, though the words struggled to come out as he shook his head in unsettled confusion.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

He slowly steps out, blocking the entrance with his body. You both had worked same precinct as detectives years ago and as the time past, the people he once worked with faded from his memory. Yours, however, was becoming ever the more vivid. Working for an established agency there were many people who matched his prowess, you included, though what set you apart was your unmatched ability to get on his nerves. The two of you shared a mutual feeling of contempt as you fought for the recognition you deserved over your peers: taking any measure to avoid working together, being discreet about sharing case information on potential leads- he didn't really need to ask how you found him. As much as he would never admit it, he had faith you could do it simply because you wanted to. But that was a separate lifetime, in Korea, and since he has moved onto more...controversial means of work, he doubted your appearance would bring anything good with it.

And with the way you flashed him your detective badge, ducking under his arm to push past... he knew he was right.

He followed you with hurried steps to the kitchen as you seemingly made yourself at home, discarding your bag on the counter and rummaging through the fridge, stopping occasionally to check the information of an item. He could feel the absurdness of the situation create a surge of exasperation through his veins. Maybe merely existed to antagonize him. He stood across the room, an island separating you both.

"Get out of my house or hurry up and tell me what you want." His minatory tone would serve as a warning to any other person and had he of known no better- he'd deem you dumb, watching as you continued your thorough inspection.

Closing the fridge with a yogurt in hand you leisurely made your way across the kitchen, opening each draw with a sigh as you presumably looked for a spoon.

"That's no way to talk to an old friend who has a warrant out for your arrest.""

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Suspicion of murder." You peeled back the yogurt lid with an amused expression, "You know i almost laughed when i saw the footage, someone with your expertise being caught by something as simple as a camera- it is laughable isn't it Shiu?"

"I'm not a murderer-"

"But it was even better when your DNA popped up all-too-close to the crime scene-"

"I don't know what hallucinatory state you're in right now-" "HAH!"

"--but I am not a murderer (Y/n). So i suggest you take your business somewhere else." He says gesturing a rough hand to the door.

He wasn't lying. He had never killed anyone before. It was very well possible that DNA could have been traced back to him but other than that you would have no proof of his involvement. Saying that, you shouldn't of been able to come here in the first place. Shiu's heart rate went up for a number of reasons, none of which he could decipher, as he watched you with uncertainty. With more to live for now...he didn't want to test his luck.

"You should stop putting on a front with me, I'm the one who's been covering for you. Yeah, you're not a murderer but I know what you do and by taking out the magical powers and unicorns the rest of the world doesn't know about, I could easily get decades added to your sentence."

It took a moment for Shiu to render what you said, in momentary disbelief of your awareness. You knew about his world--Surely he would have realised if you were able to see curses too? And you chose to live normally? Too much is happening and he's gaining more questions than answers.

Your face brightens as you finally reach into the designated cutlery draw and it makes Shiu feel sick. You bring up the pink toddler spoon and place it into the carton before making eye contact with him for the first time since you entered his home.

"The poor babe."

"Get to the point (Y/n)."

"Why don't we make a deal?" you continue taking his silence as an agreement, "I'll make sure your little activities are covered up if you give me a cut of whatever your making and help me get evidence for other cases."

"That's ridiculous. Get out."

"You forget about your daughter Shiu."

That seemed to be the all you needed to make Shiu's patience dissipate entirely as he stalks over to you, pushing the carton to the side so it fell off the counter and leaning in close.

"I could kill you right now. And then what? No deal, no threats, and life continues as before."

"I've got someone waiting outside with instructions to call for backup if i don't come out in three minutes...you're running out of time."

Fuck. What should he do? What would he do? Go on the run? He couldn't, he had someone else to think about. Irrational thoughts ran rampant in his mind, trying to find, for just a second, a single reasonable solution. What should he do? He releases a breath before slowly standing to his full height.

"We'll discuss how much I'm paying you later."

Your face lights up with that sickening look once again as you match his stance, reaching for your bag and pulling out a burner phone which he takes with hesitance.

"It only has my number on it. I'll call first"

"Leave before you cause a problem." he says and is somewhat grateful when you do just that without a word. He awaited the sound of the doors click before allowing himself to relax, if you had told him what would happen when he first woke up he would've laughed in your face. It did feel like some kind of sick joke.

You had found him, you knew where he lived, that he had a daughter, could see curses. You blackmailed him. Now he wanted to find out why, or maybe he should get Toji to take care of you now that you've left- The scenarios he created became more and more extreme as the minutes went by, though each came with their own major flaws. He couldn't allow the agency to find out about his connection to you, they'd no doubt get rid of you both but maybe- just maybe he could use a few of their connections within the police force to help him out. Get rid of the evidence and then get rid of you. There were many calls to make, but for now, he had to focus on picking up his daughter on time from school.

I wrote this quickly 😭it's one of those ideas that just need to be put out there and re-evaluated later so i may re-write it, who knows?

Please feel free to leave any ideas/recommendations x