#yes it’s a weekly occurrence

[iszapizza]

baby Jedi maul is back !

[cod-dump]

Soap: *says something stupid*

Gaz: I will fucking end you

Soap: Oh please, despite being a soldier, you're too nice. Wouldn't hurt a fly

Gaz: I wouldn't, as flies are innocent, and while annoying, help the ecosystem

Gaz: You, however, I would maim

[prettyymafia]

🚬Translation: 辞めるべきか？それとも自殺すべきか？(Should I quit? Or should I kill myself?)

[kitasuno]

just a loyal member of bectoshi nation and every time our president posts a piece of me revives and is reborn again

you lead, i'll follow - akaashi keiji

:: you thought you were used to akaashi's surprises for you, but this one's the best.

miniseries masterlist

akaashi keiji loves to tell you that he knows a spot.

and it is exactly those all too familiar words that come out of his mouth once he notices you becoming bored of watching the waves repeatedly ripple over your bare feet.

“c’mon, i know a spot.” 

the sun glows red above the horizon as the stretch of ocean ahead reflects back the changing pink and lavender hues of the sky. the loud tide overpowers any surrounding noise, allowing only murmurs of faraway conversations and the soft tunes of a distant speaker to be heard.

but akaashi’s words reached your ears loud and clear. 

you’re well aware of the fact that you’d follow wherever keiji led, as you've done many times before. so it comes as no surprise when you step back from the shore, with him helping you slide your sandals back on before turning your backs to the water and heading up the beach. 

it’s only a short drive up before keiji pulls over and parks alongside the quiet freeway.

the sand is long gone from your feet and keiji’s hand grips yours as he guides you up the wooden steps. a brick walkway with shops lined on either side of it sat at the top. 

the stars slowly uncover themselves from their day of hiding. the sky is now a cool shade of indigo and dim streetlights lit up the empty footpath ahead, illuminating the way the small business owners flip the signs on their doors from reading open to closed. 

keiji still has your hand encompassed in his as he continues along the path, paying no mind to its residents going about their evening. 

eventually you reach a clearing and your view of the sky expands. akaashi looks at you, waiting hopefully for your approval. his expression uncertain.

and the sight is absolutely gorgeous. you’re on a grassy cliffside, the beach now well below where you stand, and the rotating beam of a lighthouse shines on you momentarily before sweeping away again, soon to return.

“oh my god, keiji. it’s beautiful,”

"yeah. it is." you're still looking at the sky, so you don't notice how akaashi's eyes don't move from your face as he agrees.

“this used to just be my spot. but i want it to be ours, if you’re okay with that?” his tone is unsure, though he has no reason to be. 

“yeah?" you tear your eyes away from the view to find him already looking at you.

"yeah. it's ours."

you have the cliff summit all to yourselves when he pulls you closer into him, sharing his body heat as the evening air becomes cool. you stay there, watching the scenery until nightfall finally takes over, completely enveloping the sky. 

“so, same time next week?”

[livlaughloveluke]

underwater moments w/ Poseidon!reader x Luke

ᡣ𐭩 𝘀𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻

daughter of poseidon! reader x luke castellan 🪸

IN WHICH.. you’re dating the famous hermes boy 💘

warnings! this fic contains- no betrayal luke 🥳 // percy is a lil bro // fem reader // not all of these are underwater moments

🎧- saturn by sza

[headcannons]

sneaking out for starlit swims !!

you and luke spend your nights secretly swimming under the dark waters of camp half-blood, while the moon grazes the surface and turns the black depths glittery. you and him try to remain quiet, but how could you resist laughter when he almost accidentally drowned, twice?!

the famous underwater kisses <3

with little privacy at the kid-filled camp, you and luke rarely found moments alone. all you had time for were sneaky, quick kisses in between planned activities. as a child of poseidon, you found a way to solve this intimate problem—underwater kisses. creating an air bubble under the lake allowed for a moment with no curious glances—at least from most. (the fishies and a certain pesky brother often interrupt)

going pearl diving!

luke likes to sunbathe in the gleaming sun, resting on the docks while you splash around in the blue lake. you dive down deep, searching for the prettiest pearls underwater and placing him on the wood surface next to him. this could go on for hours, you entertained by the adventure and luke just happy to be in your presence. the next day, luke graciously gifted you a gorgeous necklace made with the pearls you excavated.

surfing and paddle boarding 🏄‍♀️

while the calm waters don’t offer many waves, every once in a while you like to manipulate the liquid so you can surf. not to mention, you love to instruct luke, too. he’s not the best, but he’s willing to give anything a try. (if we’re being honest, he hates it. he hates constantly falling off the board and sharply coming into contact with the water, but he’d do anything if it meant you were happy.)

in contrast, he loves to paddle board with you. it’s more gentle, and he can actually talk to you while in the water.

the olive theory! (but with cherries)

definitelyyyy the type of guy to pretend he doesn’t like cherries just because he knows you love them more. every morning at breakfast, he slides you his small fruit cup with only the cherries remaining, and you eat it up every time. unbeknownst to you, he’s only doing this to see you smile. he loves the way your lips curl up into a smile when you eat them, the juices staining your lips with a shade of red. he would give up anything to see you smile like that. 

carrying a waterproof digital camera around 📸

he loves loves LOVES to take photos of you! whether your swimming in the lake or picking strawberries in the fields, he’s by your side with the camera directed towards you. he’s the number one candid picture taker! and when you ask why, he usually presents you with some dumb excuse or pickup line to conceal the fact that he’s totally whipped for you. 

“ew, stoppp! i look so bad right now! why do you like taking so many photos anyway?”

“dunno. you’re the subject of all my dreams, sweetheart.”

late night beach bonfires

singing, laughing, and cuddling by the warmth of a campfire with all your friends is a weekly occurrence for you and luke. it feels like you’re both just normal teens, living life with no fear of monsters attacking or angry greek gods. plus, he makes BOMB s’mores. 

CHAOTIC game nights with percy 

attempting to play charades with your little brother, but overall he just gets mad and rage quits because you couldn’t guess the word. oh, and we can’t forget the craziest uno nights. you and percy arguing over the rules while luke just stands awkwardly in the corner.

“you can’t place a draw two on a draw four! it doesn’t work that way!”

“yes you can!! suck it up and draw your six cards!”

“uh, guys…? 🧍‍♂️”

the annual cabin decoration contest ! (yes, i made this up)

when that time rolls around, you and percy are DETERMINED to have the best cabin. you hang up seashells, scatter around the prettiest dried coral on shelves, and buy fairy lights for a cozy atmosphere. luke watches from afar as you and percy playfully argue whether a lana del rey poster would “fit the theme.” to be fair, it was a tunnel under OCEAN blvd poster.

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[sunboki]

⎯ COUNTDOWN TO LOVE. (TEASER) a Chris Bahng fiction

🎁 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. countdown to christmas, best friends to lovers! au, pining, worry of unrequited feelings, angst, fluff, cuteness overload

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 5k-10k words!

WARNINGS. might be swearing(??), mentions of a dick(?)

AUG'S NOTES. hello this years christmas piece~ i love having annual pieces like this one, but i’m getting such whiplash after writing so angsty for hyune last december 😭　hopefully i can deliver this fic well for everyone!!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. It had always been natural between you and Chris. Knowing someone for almost ten years comes with that. And yet, when he confesses that he doesn’t want to keep up this cycle but pursue you one winter, you’re hesitant in thinking it will work out. Then again, you’ve never been one to deny him.

or alternatively :

Five days till Christmas, five dates to see if you feel the same.

December 20th.

“Move your arm.”

Sunday morning sunlight streams through barely cracked blinds, making your brows crinkle at the onslaught of brightness in distaste. That, along with occupying a mattress with none other than Chris Bahng.

A weekly occurrence at this rate, if not daily. And no, whatever earlier assumption about you two sharing a bed is wrong.

Totally.

Oh, he’s also pitiful to boot, evident with the loud whine heard in response as he rolls over—messy curls unruly upon just awakening. 

And.. somehow beautiful, with those big brown eyes and lips the color of burnt russet parting with a highly exaggerated yawn.

But pitiful most of all. 

“‘S warm—“ Chris groans out, inch-worming his way to wrap big arms around your form, beckoning you snuggled against his back with a content sigh.

“Too warm,” You scowl, squirming about in his grasp, disagreeable sorts of sounds leaving tight lips. Chris simply giggles.

“Say,” He begins, weighing his chin upon your shoulder, fingertips slipping beneath your shirt to feel your skin, tracing the lines of your abdomen, rising to rest on your belly. 

A surprising lover of skin-to-skin, he is.

“What if we became something more?”

When you know someone long enough, an established sense of normalcy alternative to everybody else appears, whether that’s the plentiful times you’d heard Chris squeal like a girl after walking in on him in his boxers, or the not-so pretty nights out where he’d hold back your hair while you threw up in the bathroom a bar whose name you can’t recall.

But then again, it’s always been just that.

Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t demand anything from you, didn't judge you. Listening with an attentive ear those days you would cry on the phone, and bring you a donut before morning classes after passing an exam.

The small things.

So it makes you wonder when you started seeing him differently. And if he felt that same way too.

A slow progression of love, like a river in its path of eroding canyons over thousands of years. Familiar, comforting. Done without a second thought like muscle memory. His fingers curling against yours in busied atmospheres, the look you both give each other when a certain song comes on.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

With your face peering over his monitor, wide eyes he adores peek at him from an upside down angle. 

Cute, he thinks, tapping your nose with a chilled index.

Chris always keeps it cold in his apartment, partially because he remembers you’d told him you sleep better that way, partially because he loves to hear you complain about it in the morning.

As for the big question popped earlier today, he chooses to wait patiently per your request (after staring at him like he’d grown an extra pair of eyes then proceeding to smack his arm before realizing he was serious).

So, yes, you’re thinking.

And it scares Chris more than he’d like to admit. 

He knows the risks, the “let’s try this” somehow turning into an ugly breakup and never speaking again.

And he can’t afford that when it comes to you, because you’ve become the most important person in his life without even noticing it.

Even if his love is one sided. Unrequited. 

He’d be okay as long as he has you.

Just the thought makes him anxious, makes the clicking of his mouse arranging the tempo to become erratic in pace, head-dizzying.

“Chris?”

Until your voice finds him, and the torrential waves of his ocean go back to their slow lapsing. Calming the waters as always, trademark to you.

“New track,” He offers, eyes flickering up to you with a meek smile emphasizing the charming dimples there.

Majoring in music comes with both perks and downfalls: hours spent studying and cramming terms down his throat whilst managing personal projects, and, of course, the fleeting satisfaction after passing an exam by a stroke of luck.

But he loves every moment of it, especially having you listen to some of his favorite productions. Some he’ll strum on a guitar amidst his arranged apartment shared with Changbin and Han—roommates you’d grown quite acquainted with—in the late evening, his heart likely beating out of his chest watching your sweet face nod along.

At the moment it’s him here alone, Han having already relocated back home for the holidays, Changbin at his part time job, working lighting and electrical work at a live-house.

“Can I listen?” 

Slow to nod, he beckons you closer with a wave of his hand, carefully placing headphones overtop your ears.

And yet, as your head bobs and face wrinkles up just like he does when hearing something catchy, he can’t help the grin on his face watching you.

You’re beautiful, and he’s too fond it might just be unhealthy.

It’s too easy to fall in love with you.

He has a feeling he’ll be thinking that a lot.

December 21st.

Enough. 

If there was an early New Year’s resolution, gaining a lack of hesitation would have to be on the top of the list.

Of course, that would ensue plenty of compromising situations if you did things impulsively considering the amount of times you’d wanted to kiss him, but, for the most part, it would work in a sensible manner.

“Five dates.” 

Last night you slept over (similar to most nights), clad in one of Chris’s old t-shirts and a pair of suspiciously clean basketball shorts for the gym-addicted man in question, Changbin, to offer you.

By the stove, Chris occupies himself with cooking eggs, lips puffed in a way downright dangerous to your “no hesitation” resolution and lack of t-shirt displaying a broad, muscled back adding to the list. 

Your tongue pokes against your cheek, arms crossed over your chest.

”Five dates.. mhm.. gotcha…” Each nod from the man assures you that, no, he doesn’t “gotcha”; his attention long since drawn to what lies in a sizzling pan and the low hum of “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz rumbling from the small radio on the corner of the kitchen island.

“Chris,” You grunt, brows lifting, resisting the urge to laugh when he glances over his shoulder with that sheepish expression, all-telling.

Or maybe that comes with the years. Unspoken gestures understood without fail.

”Sorry ‘bout that,” He murmurs, and you curse every aspect of your vision being a spectator to his trapezius rippling while dishing down two mugs from the cabinet. One that you bought him, the other purchased by Han.

The latter patterned with.. odd shaped bananas he’s sworn are not the shape of a dick.

But that’s a story for another time. 

Although, that’s the least of the oddities. Between the Danny Devito cheeto ornament(how they got their hands on it you couldn’t guess) added to their tiny Christmas tree and the rug in the bathroom with old stains no one talks about, you’ve decided to turn a blind eye for the sake of learning things you don’t want to remember. 

“What do you think if.. y’know, before we try something new,”

You pause, scorning the sly smile on his face when turning to face you, long fingers quelling the stove’s flame momentarily.

He thinks you’re the most darling thing he’s laid eyes on, and you think he’s going to laugh at you.

”We go on five dates. And after those five dates, I’ll make up my mind.”

”Is this a part of your “thinking”?”

Jerk. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

Gnawing at your bottom lip, your face pinches.

“Yes.” The words are quiet, too hushed for your liking.

Chris doesn’t make you quiet, he doesn’t make you shy. Yet, these days you find yourself falling back into a cycle of nervous, foreign feelings when speaking. As if he’s picking you apart piece for piece.

As if he hasn’t already read every page of the book named you over and over again.

But now the pages rewrite themselves, too many filled with the word “love” and “affection” and “more than friends” and—

“Can I kiss you after those dates?”

Jerk. For the second time.

”And if I say no?”

He lights a fire under your feet. Maybe it’s the heat causing blood to rush to your ears.

Chris lifts his mug. ”Indirect?”

You scoff, he giggles, squeaky in pitch just as it’s always been. Your cheeks warm.

Because in the midst of a once-normalcy, you can feel a storm brewing. It’s unclear if it’ll be a hurricane or a refreshing rain shower, and perhaps the unpredictably is supposed to be thrilling.

Or maybe it’s doomed, and the debris left after that hurricane will lay untouched, uncared for.

So it’s the feeling of his arms wrapping around you beckoning those thoughts out of reach, holding the doubt just high enough you don’t have to see.

Hear, listen, overthink. For now, all there is to fret about is Chris, and the warmth of his hug, pulling you infinitely close against heated skin.

Then does it register to you he’s always read your pages the same, and he would for as long as you’ll give him time to reread. If they change, they change together.

How foolish you forgot such a thing. As if he wasn’t your best friend first.

“Yes, you can.”

When those five dates are over, kiss me.

His nose buried into your shoulder, he murmurs a quiet “thank you”, a satisfied hum resounding from his chest, eyes crinkling up in the corners with a smile.

“Is that my shampoo?”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[moonhoures]

Good To Me

🕷️ kinktober — day 22: overstimulation 🕸️

pairing: wonwoo (svt) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, smut, fluff

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, shower sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, pet names (babe, baby), multiple orgasms

word count: ~1.3k

synopsis: date night ends with some overwhelming pleasure

posted: october 22, 2023

Date nights were a weekly occurrence in your relationship with Wonwoo, and you both cherished them, looking forward to them every time the new week began. This week, he had told you to dress up and be ready by the time he got home from work. So you did, all the while wondering what he had in mind for the night ahead of you.

He had came home shortly after 4 p.m, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers wrapped in cellophane with a ribbon around it. He greeted you with a kiss, but not before his eyes had raked over your frame with a loving glaze over them. His lips lingered on your lips, giving you a second and third kiss before finally letting you take the flowers in the kitchen to put them in water.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked once you returned to the foyer of your shared apartment.

When you replied with a ‘Yes’, he took your hand and led you out to his car where he held the door for you like he always did. He refused to tell you where he was taking you, but you could tell it was in the city based on where he was driving.

The destination ended up being the new clothing store you had been wanting to go to. The store was just too far out of the way of your normal route, and you hadn’t found time to go to it. So he figured he would treat you to some shopping before dinner, which was at your favorite date spot.

Once your date had come to a beautiful conclusion, and you arrived home, Wonwoo took your shopping bags from the backseat and carried them inside for you.

“Thank you for tonight, babe. That store was even nicer than my friends were telling me,” you told him, unlocking the front door for him. You let him walk in first, gesturing for him to leave the bags on the couch.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he replied earnestly, turning to you with his usual, cool smile. He pulled you in by the waist, giving you a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, “Should we watch some TV? It’s still a little early.”

You picked up your phone to check the time, and it was only 7:30 p.m, “Hm, I’m not really in the mood for TV. Do you want to shower with me instead?”

Of course, your boyfriend didn’t turn down the offer, but you eventually started to regret your decision. Because not even five minutes into your shower, your boyfriend had your back up against the tiled wall, his fingers buried between your thighs. He towered over you with a satisfied grin on his lips as he watched you on the edge of cumming for the first time that night. Yes, the first. Because with Wonwoo, it was never just once. Once wasn’t good enough; it was the minimum.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re close. I can feel it,” he egged you on, “Just cum for me.”

You were already a piteous excuse of a person, letting out pathetic moans and whines as his thumb circled your clit and his middle and ring finger pumped into you with purpose. Your hands secured you by holding onto his back and arm, and he loved that every time he went deeper, your grip on him got tighter. The smile on his lips only curled more when your walls squeezed his fingers and convulsed around them, soaking them in your arousal. You were glad the water was lukewarm, because your body was already heating up.

“Just like that,” he kissed a line up your jaw and on your ear, that deep timbre of his making your insides tense, “Now give me another good one.”

Before you could protest, he was sinking to his knees, the water falling onto his lower back as he lifted your leg up onto his shoulder.

“Wonw-oh,” your words died in your throat. Your boyfriend’s left hand held onto the thigh that sat on his left shoulder while his right hand continued working in your cunt. His fingers powered through your first orgasm, and quickly aimed for your second one. Only this time, he added his mouth to the mix, kissing and sucking on your clit. And all you could do was stand there and take it, resorting to watching him. It was actually such a sight to see. His dark hair, wet and sticking to his forehead while the water behind him cascaded down his back and wide shoulders. His brown eyes clouded by lust as he stared up at you, knowing that eye contact made your knees weak (figuratively).

Not even a couple of minutes had passed, but it was already becoming too much. You had no time to recover from your first climax, so your body was tense as it began building up to a second one. The muscles in your legs tensed. Your hands gripped onto his shoulder and in his hair, wanting to tug him away to give you a moment to calm down. He could practically feel your inner conflict of wanting to chase your high or push him off. He pulled his mouth away from your throbbing core—which clenched around his fingers after he abandoned it—and looked up at you with a fake confused expression.

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

“It’s too much, I need . . . need a second,” you struggled to speak as the pace of his fingers failed to slow down. If anything, it felt like he sped them up.

“You want me to stop? Tell me to stop then.”

He knew you didn’t want him to stop. Well, you did. But also you didn’t. You didn’t really know what you wanted.

That familiar, cat-like smirk appeared on his lips as he brought his face back between your thighs. And a second later you felt his tongue on your clit again, making your tummy flip. You whined, fingers grasping desperately onto him, attempting to anchor yourself to him as you were moments away from cumming again.

Anyone would tell you that having sex in a shower was not easy, but you were lucky in some aspects. Your shower was way more spacious that most, and Wonwoo took your safety very seriously. He held onto you like his life depended on it, and he was always alert to your movements. Any wrong move could result in serious injury, and that was the last thing he wanted. So he braced his hands on your legs to keep you still as he thrusted his fingers up into you as quickly and deeply as he could. When he felt the gummy, spongey texture of your walls, he knew it wouldn’t be long.

“If you want to stop you need to tell me now,” he spoke with a mocking tone, pulling away from you only a little bit.

“No! Don’t stop,” you exclaimed, bucking your hips up in tandem with his fingers.

“No? But you said it was too much.”

“Wonwoo, please.”

“I know, baby, I know. Let it out.”

Just like that, you were cumming, the most carnal, primal noises pulling out of your throat. Your insides spasmed around his knuckles and soaked his digits in your creamy essence. Your thigh clenched, moving closer to his cheek. Your lower abdomen tensed as his tongue continued to massage your clit, sending your mind and nerves spiraling. Your hands were weakly attempting to push him away, but the water made your palms slip. You resorted to making pathetic whines and sad attempts at groans of his names. Finally, he pulled away, tongue darting out to lick his lips. You couldn’t believe you had come out of that as calmly as you did. You were also nervous knowing that you would have to go through it a few more times before Wonwoo would be satisfied.

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimenightmare @k-drizzle @iguanas-world

[numberonedukethomasapologist]

Random gothamite: SO last week right?

It's hotter than a witches tits in latex- so I made some homemade Popsicles that you can also feed to pets.

I also had my windows and doors open- yea I know that's dangerous in gotham but it's hot asf and who's causing major world ending crime in this heat? I also have my gun, duh

But anywho- I'm sitting on my balcony with me dog and cat (giggles and shitter) and the tiny stabby robin drops down from who knows where-

Now I've encountered this robin before when I was kidnapped (long story) I also know from social media that this robin loves animals

And so he's standing there a bit awkwardly

So I ask if he wants to pet my pets

He gives a lil nod- then I ask if he wants a Popsicle cuz this poor baby look like he's bout to melt into a puddle

After a pause he nods (it's the most adorable unsure nod ever and it gave me big whiplash after watching him pummel the those kidnappers) so I go back inside and give him a Popsicle and he eventually starts eating it while petting both animals who squeezed into his lap

And I'm like "omfg this is the cutest shit I've seen all week" and of course I snap a pic of it (perfect lighting and all) I posted it to the "cute sword robin moments" tag on Twitter (you have to look under that tag it's the equivalent of funny n cute cat memes)

But after that whole ordeal (he finishes his Popsicle and leaves abruptly) it's like a few days later and I'm stuck in between a fight against a group of thugs and THE FUCKING BATMAN

I don't even know how I got there I was just walking from getting off of work (my car got exploded, long story)

And so I'm just standing there watching it go down (no I'm not scared- this is a weekly occurrence, after the first few times of watching a fight it just becomes a nuisance

But after he has these guys all tied up and knocked tf out seeing the bat got me thinking bout the Robin's and then I'm like "wait? Would the bat like to see the picture??"

So before he grapples away (also, rude?? I just had to sit and watch your ass fight and block my only path, and then your just gonna leave??) And I just yell "hey I got a cute pic of the small robin if you wanna see it!!" Tell me why he drops down so fast and is immediately standing infront of me?!? Lowkey had me backing up a bit

But I pull out my phone and show him the pic

I'm being so dead ass when I tell you I heard him CHUCKLE!! THE FUCKING BATMAN CHUCKLED?!

He also got me to airdrop the picture to him and keep my mouth shut about the interaction (yes I'm telling you the whole story- but the bat is kinda like a weird quiet uncle who looks threatening but when your around him more he starts to become the uncle that you can roast the shit out off and he'll just awkwardly laugh- I know cuz ive cussed him out once and he went and brood in a fucking corner?? What I'm tryna say is- he won't do shit to me cuz im a gothamite 🤷🏽‍♂️)

Anyway- but yea? Crazy experience.

Only in gotham lmao

[sun-kissy]

hellooo, hope you’re doing well! could you write a hurt/comfort for poly!marauders with dhampir reader, specifically the headcannon where Remus and reader go on walks and talk about their insecurities regarding their identity. reader talks about their immortality and that they fear the day the marauders are gone, maybe James and Sirius come in and comfort reader? Idk just make it as painful as possible, thank you sm!!

aaaa yes!! thank you so much for the request babe <3 this is my first time writing a poly!marauders fic, so i hope i got the dynamics right :, )

for anyone wondering, the headcanon the anon was referring to can be found here

alone | poly!marauders

tw: two mentions of sex, but absolutely nothing explicit

half-vampire, half-witch!reader, poly!marauders x reader

“Dove,” Remus breathes, a false picture of calmness even though concern seeps into his tone. “Deep breaths, please. Deep breaths for me.”

His thumb continued to apply gentle pressure between your shoulder blades as you sit there, red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Remus thinks he can feel his heart breaking everytime you sniffle, the pitiful sound from deep inside your chest.

The two of you sit by the black lake, the moon lighting up the space. This was almost a weekly occurrence; both of you pulling yourselves out of your other two boyfriends’ sleepy embraces to sneak out and sit together on the expanse of grass.

You’d talk about the blood-thirsty monsters haunting parts of you till the sun started to rise, and fall asleep holding each other’s hands. The next morning, you’d wake up on the grass wrapped in James’ arms with Sirius peppering kisses all over your faces, and everything would be alright again.

This time was different, though; Remus knew it, and he was sure that by some form of instinct, James and Sirius would be able to sense it too despite the distance.

You were absolutely distraught, and he had no idea why. The two of you were sitting in silence when you broke down all of a sudden, and now he was desperate to make you smile again.

He was right — soon enough, the shuffling of leaves and poorly concealed whispers could be heard behind you.

“I told you something was wrong!”

“What? What’s wrong? The only thing wrong here is that they’re getting cosy without us!” Remus can hear Sirius grumbling, unable to stop a small smile from curving his lips despite the situation.

“Pads! She’s crying,” James huffs quietly.

Within seconds, Sirius rushes to crouch down in front of you, his eyes wide with panic. His eyebrows are bunched in concern, mouth set in a frown. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice coming out shriller than he intended to.

You tense and shrug noncommittally, gaze fixed on the ground as you try to blink away the tears blurring your vision. He softens slightly upon seeing the look on your face and gently takes your hands.

Sirius opens his mouth to speak again but James holds a finger to his lips, a silent plea to let you be. He rolls his eyes but keeps his mouth closed, starting to rub your palms with his thumbs.

James looks at Remus quizzically for an explanation, to which he shrugs — he had no idea what had triggered you so terribly. James sighs, and you feel his warmth instantly as he sits down beside you.

“Hi angel,” he murmurs, turning to you with a small smile. He reaches out and brushes a few strands of hair off your face, and you find yourself involuntarily leaning into his touch.

“Hello,” you mumble.

James feels his heart sink at the sound of your defeated voice, and he can tell how much effort it was taking you to hold back tears. “Can you tell us why you’re upset?”

“I… I don’t—“ you warble, “I’m fine, really.”

It takes all of Sirius’ willpower not to roll his eyes at your blatant lie. “Love, you’re crying. Just spit it out.”

Remus and James both turn to glare at Sirius, but he just shrugs and eyes you impatiently. Apparently, Sirius’ goad was all you needed to get you started. “I was just…. I don’t wanna be alone,” you croak pathetically.

Remus’ ministrations on your back still immediately, completely abandoning his project as he drops his arm to the ground. Sirius furrows his eyebrows, looking at you strangely as though you were some sort of crossword puzzle.

“Alone?” James echoed, pouting with puzzlement. “What… what do you mean, alone? You have us, sweetheart. We’re never leaving you.”

“Yeah,” Sirius pipes up, gently lifting one of your hands to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“But you are,” you insist, and James can hear the desperation in your voice. He tugs you closer to him, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder silently.

“Why would we ever leave you?” Remus speaks up softly, lifting a hand to gently comb through your hair. “What did we do to make you think that we would?”

“It’s not— you guys didn’t—“ you let out a frustrated sob, roughly raking your fingers through your hair. There was no easy way to go about this conversation, and you hated yourself for having to do this to them.

James makes a pitiful sound in the back of his throat and starts rubbing your arm encouragingly. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, feeling more worried by the minute.

Sirius squeezes your hands firmly, applying pressure until it hurt and you finally raise your eyes to look at him. You’re scared of the anger, or worse — disappointment — you’d find, but there’s a bountiful amount of love in his gaze. He looks at you imploringly, saying nothing yet everything with his eyes.

You sigh shakily. “You’re all gonna die one day, and… and you’re gonna leave me here. Alone,” you warble, your voice growing softer with each word until your last one came out as a whisper. “And — and I’ll have to live without you, and I’ll be so loveless, and —“

James can’t take it anymore, and pulls you into his lap without warning, bringing your head to his chest. The walls of your dam start to break as you let out a sob, feeling the fear and sadness pouring out of you. He rubs small circles into your back, nestling his chin in your hair as he glances at his boyfriends worriedly.

You’re scared; to say the least. The three of them had been by your side for years, and your world revolved around them. You didn’t think you knew what else to live for if it wasn’t for them, their bright grins and heartfelt love. The way James crouched slightly to hug you, how Sirius pulled you into his side and peppered kisses all over your face, Remus’ hand in yours as he pressed his lips to your own — you didn’t think you could last a day without them and their endearing little quirks.

Living alone wasn’t something you had in you to do; because it wasn’t really living if it wasn’t with them. The thought of waking up in an empty bed sends a shudder through you as you squeeze your eyes impossibly tighter.

“Baby,” Sirius speaks softly, and your heart clenches at the way his voice cracks. He places a hand on the nape of your neck, slowly rubbing up and down. “Maybe… maybe you won’t have us in the future. But —“

That was the wrong thing to say, as you let out a wail and cling impossibly harder to James. Remus flicks the side of Sirius’ head chidingly as James rolls his eyes. Sirius lets out a sad exhale, blinking away tears. He never knows how to fix things.

The tall boy notices the way Sirius’ head was lowered, and immediately wraps both arms around him, pressing kisses to his hair. James tries not to smile upon seeing Sirius melt into his touch.

He locks eyes with Remus, and nods quietly to let him know he can handle it.

“Angel,” James coaxes softly. “Look up at me, please?”

You sniffle softly, raising your head to meet his gaze. James frowns when he sees your puffy red eyes, reaching out to wipe your tears.

“Do you love us for our bodies?”

The question catches you off guard, your eyebrows arching. Was he joking? In a situation like this? You hear the unmistakable sound of Remus snorting behind you. “What?”

“I said,” James repeated, “do you love us for our bodies?”

“No!” you splutter, some of your melancholy leaving to make way for confusion. “What — why —“

“Exactly,” James says firmly, immediately shutting you up with the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t love us for our bodies, for our physicality. You love us for us, for our love. And let me tell you, our love is something that’s gonna stay with you until the end of time.”

You immediately soften at his words. “But I won’t have you here, you won’t be —“

“We will,” James responds softly, jabbing a finger into the left side of your chest. “We will be here. Right here.”

You feel your heart swell with sad affection; feeling nostalgia towards something that hasn’t even happened yet.

Remus scoots forward to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back snug against his chest. “And we’re here with you now. We’re going to be with you for years, dove. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon, okay?”

You let your eyes flutter closed, let yourself indulge for a moment as you nod blindly. It was impossible for you to stay upset when your boys were comforting you with saccharine voices and sweet touches. Perhaps they were right, they always were.

You hear a sniffle from your left, and open your eyes to look at Sirius. He had tears running down his cheeks, and was looking at you with his mouth open and a heartbroken look on his face. Remus let out a quiet chuckle, and you turn to give him a death glare as you crawl out of his lap and over to Sirius.

Sirius immediately pulls you into a strangling hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he cries. “Why are you crying?” James questions, bemused with the slightest hint of concern in his tone.

“My poor baby, she’s gonna be all alone,” he blubbered, earning a small smile from you. He pulls away and raises his head to look at you, gripping your cheeks with a fervour and desperation you’ve never seen before. “I’m gonna write you a letter everyday, so you can read them all when I’m gone. And… and I’ll make you a scrapbook of my most handsome pictures.”

You smile indulgently at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he blabs on, wiping his nose. “And we can make sex tapes in case you’re extra horny when you’re old, and…”

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Remus says loudly, earning a giggle from you as James swats the back of Sirius’ head.

You rest your head on Sirius’ shoulder, feeling James peck your cheek and Remus’ arm wrapping around your waist.

Grief was inevitable, but it was just love coming back to haunt you, wasn’t it? Even after they passed, you’d find them in the way the wind travels on chilly nights, the glimmer of the sun at dawn, and maybe even the occasional sex tape. In everything you see, you would see them.

Their unconditional devotion to you transcended the blurry lines of mortality, and you knew that as long as your heart continued to beat, they would never stop loving you. James was right — they had left the mark of their love in every corner of your heart and home; and weren’t ever going to leave you alone.

[frankoceanfanpage]

"my honeybee, come and get this pollen!"

synopsis : hc's of leo valdez and his gf !!

pairing : leo valdez x daughter of apollo!reader

warnings : swearing / cursing, intentional lower case writing, kissing, nothing crazy tho!

requested ? yes! by the amazing @sunnitheapollokid 😚

masterlist : coming soon!

nai yapps : HI BABIES 🤭 first time writing hcs, hope ya like!! it turned out longer than expected so yeah haha, not proofread so please don't mind the grammatical errors 😭

on the radio . . . "espresso" by sabrina carpenter

in my opinion, leo is kinda insecure (just like percy) so it took him a while to realize that you liked him back !!

in the meanwhile, he would fangirl about you to his friends

oh and trust me, they were SICK AND TIRED of that boy

"guys, did you see the way she looked at me at dinner??"

(which he told them like for the 1293858th time that week)

#delusionalking

and don't act like you didn't do the same thing as well, because we all know damn well you did

yapping about leo to annabeth, silena and piper at the cabin 10 sleepovers is a weekly (almost daily) occurrence

like i've mentioned in the beginning, leo's probably really insecure, so he uses his flirty and cheeky personality to cover it up!

which has you giggling and kicking your feet

because that boy flirts with you more than anyone else

oh and when he found out that you work at the infirmary with will solace?

it was his most visited place other than bunker 9

leo is naturally a really clumy person (me too lmao) so he injures himself on accident quite often when working on something in bunker 9, but one way or another he'll find an excuse to come visit you there (even if he's not hurt) and say shit like

"you come here often?" or "can you kiss it better?"

with a shit-eating grin as you heal one of his injuries

since you're a child of the music god, you have AMAZING taste in music

so every once in a while you'd come over at bunker 9 and play some of your music while leo works on his projects

you'd be on his bed, painting away or even working on poems

speaking of poems!

you once wrote a poem about leo and after building up courage (with the help of your girlfriends) you read it out to leo!!

and let me tell you, that boy turned as red as a tomato

and he couldn't stop thinking about that poem FOR DAYS.

like girl you had that boy wrapped around your finger 😭 (hence the song i choose for this blog)

after that, he decided it's time to ask you to be his gf!! (screaming)

him and his friends (percy, jason and frank) have been planning and scheming on the best way leo can ask you out

since percy has a big mouth, he told the news to his girlfriend, annabeth.

your and leo's friends were pretty much one big friend group, so you guys hung out quite often

soon enough, piper and silena found out about leo's plan too

SOO HERE'S HOW I IMAGINE HOW'D LEO WOULD ASK YOU TO BE HIS GF!!

basically, the group decided to hang out at the beach is Montauk

"LAST ONE IN THE SEA IS A ROTTEN EGG!"

percy yelled, all the boys racing to the sea, except for leo.

"boys." annabeth muttered, rolling her eyes, causing piper, silena and you to giggle.

you had your beach towel spread out onto the sand, your tote bag to your left and a book in your hands.

leo sat at your right hand side, applying sunscreen onto his arms and upper body as he watched the boys splash and attempt to drown each other.

"could you please apply sunscreen on my back, y/n?"

you look up from your book you're reading and place your bookmark between the pages. a smile grew on your face as you nod, signaling leo to turn so his back faces you. he obliged and did as you said, he pulled his knees closer to his chest leaned his head onto his arms. (kinda like this I'm bad at explaining haha 😭)

hours pass by, the group has all been at the sea having a splash fight, then also played volleyball. now they wanted to have some snacks and drinks

and of course the group decided to pick you and leo to go get the snacks

you, oblivious to their intentions, started putting your flip flops on. as you weren't looking, leo shot a look at the smirking teenagers he calls his friends. piper and frank were showing thumbs up for support. while jason and percy gave him a knowing look. leo saw annabeth mouthing "now or never" to him.

"lee, you ready to go?"

he put his attention back on to you and nodded, heading to the corner shop with you next to him. he glanced back to his friends one last time, seeing them look at the pair walking off and cheering for leo, but silently of course, so you wouldn't suspect anything.

after you two have bought the snacks and drinks the friendgroup wanted, you head back to the beach.

leo noticed the group playing volleyball again, and used to opportunity to confess now. He stopped walking, standing at this area.

"hey, y/n. could we talk for a sec?"

you didn't think much of it and nodded, walking closer to where leo was standing.

then, his nervousness got the best of him and that boy just started rambling.

"so i just wanted to say that Iive liked you for REALLY long time. like a i like you A LOT and I really want to be together with you but i'm not sure if you feel the same and i really don't want to ruin this friendship. but i've never felt this way about anyone and–"

then he got interrupted with kiss!! (by you of course)

he froze, definitely not expecting that. but quickly kissed you back. his hands on your waist, pulling you closer as your hands wrapped behind his neck.

you soon pulled away, both of you catching your breaths.

"i like you too, leo."

a bright smile appeared on leo's face, him leaning his forehead onto yours.

"can i be your boyfriend, y/n?"

you act like you're thinking about, rubbing your chin jokingly, but ultimately day yes.

he kisses you again, but pulled away quickly as you two heard screaming and cheering from the back.

the pair turn around to see their friendgroup being the cause of this loud noise.

piper, annabeth and silena were the ones screaming, holding each other's hands as they jump up and down like little girls. While the boys were cheering and clapping, Percy even started jumping up and down with the girls. (LMFOAOA DON'T TELL ME HE WOULDN'T DO THAT)

anyhow! that's how i imagine it'd happen

leo and you are both you clingy mfs, even before dating. but now you two are glued to the hip.

he definitely calls you cute nicknames in spanish (#latinoking)

"mi amor" , "cariño" , "mi vida" , "hermosa" , "mi corazón" , "mi sol", "mami/mamas"

he loves, and i mean LOVES when you help him with his projects (cough this fic cough)

whenever a piece of your jewelry (earrings, necklaces, ect..) breaks, you already know your boyfriend is there to fix it for you.

despite being the daughter of the sun god, your hands were always FREEZING. that's why you had your fire boy to warm you up

that boy is basically your human heater. while you two would cuddle in the summer, you would get so hot while being in his embrace, but you just suffered, because his grip is strong as steel.

your guys' dynamic is sunshine x sunshine protecter!! (the protecter being you because leo doesn't do shit to stand up for himself)

#1 princess treatment giver!!

"baby, i can get out of the car myself–"

"shh, don't worry about it mami."

wow this is getting way too long woopsie

in conclusion, leo valdez is the best boyfriend ever and you two are the power couple of chb!!!

THE END!!

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐍𝐀𝐈.

taglist (pls tell me if I should remove / add you!!) : @thesnshinee @graceslcver @gentlehue @ssparksflyy @coolestgirlintheworld112 @ghostlyloversworld @percyslcver @lovely-calypso @woodlandwrites @brainsofseaweed @mershellscape @hopelesslyromanticshark @canonfeminine

[lestappenforever]

Lestappen fic - Ice cream shop owner!Charles AU

I don't typically get excited by AU ideas for Lestappen because Lestappen in canonverse is so appealing to me in and of itself. But, while AO3 was down yesterday, @thearchercore received and answered a whole bunch of asks from lovely anons about a Lestappen AU fic where Charles owns an ice cream shop (as inspired by the news that the man is actually going to open an ice cream shop in Milan.) And, well, for the first time ever, I got excited about a Lestappen AU. So, I wrote something.

This is, obviously, dedicated to the incredible @thearchercore, a true pillar of the Lestappen community, and to each and every anon who has sent in asks about this AU. And because this was entirely inspired by people on Tumblr, you can read the whole fic in this post. ❤️

---

Max realizes that he has probably let this whole thing go too far. Way too far. 

What had started as a chance encounter after the Monza Grand Prix, where Max had gone on a drive and ended up in a small, lovely ice cream shop - LEC - in Milan that served the most delicious vanilla ice cream Max had ever tasted, had spiraled and developed into what was now practically a weekly occurrence. Every chance he got, when the race calendar, his PR and training schedule would allow it, Max would fly to Milan, spending ridiculous amounts of money and contributing an unnecessary amount to further pollute the environment, just to go back to that ice cream shop.

And yes, although the vanilla ice cream was divine, that's not the real reason Max kept coming back. 

No, the real cause of his travels was the ridiculously beautiful shop owner, with the fluffy brown hair, the captivating green eyes Max kind of wanted to drown himself in, and dimples that Max saw every single night when he closed his eyes. And what’s more, the shop owner — Charles — didn't even seem to like Max, because the Monégasque was a die-hard Ferrari fan and he seemed to have made it his personal mission to put all the blame of Ferrari’s lack of success for the past fifteen years on Max. Even if Max hadn’t been in F1 for the entirety of those fifteen years.

Not that he was surprised, really. The passion of the Tifosi did, on more than one occasion, seem to seriously impact their sense of logic and capability of rational thinking. 

And apparently, the beauty, sass and stubbornness of the shop owner did the exact same thing to Max's. 

The irony of that is not lost on him.

The fact that the two of them had discovered they were on the same page about the superior ice cream flavor the first time Max had been in that ice cream shop — “vanilla is my favorite” Max had said at exactly the same time Charles had said “vanilla is the only right choice” — had not been enough to endear him to Charles. His allegiance with Ferrari and Max currently on yet another dominating winning spree with Red Bull was too strong. (Even if there had been the flicker of something in those green eyes when Charles had learned that he and Max were on the same page about vanilla ice cream.)

After yet another failed attempt at charming Charles a few weeks ago, Max had gotten so desperate that he had genuinely started considering a move to Ferrari, even starting to subtly ask around about the possibility, Red Bull’s superior car and strategies be damned. But then word had reached GP and his race engineer had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would not be moving to Ferrari to impress ‘some ice cream guy in Milan’. Which Max had taken offense to, because Charles was not just ‘some ice cream guy in Milan’, thank you very much.

(Max really had to learn how to keep his mouth shut around GP.)

So yes, his obsession with the ice cream shop and its owner has gone way too far. And yet, on a warm August afternoon, Max finds himself walking back into that ice cream shop. 

Summer break has finally arrived, and Max had genuinely considered renting an apartment in Milan for the next three weeks so he wouldn't have to fly back and forth so much. But then he had come to the conclusion that that would be excessive. 

(Because flying back and forth between Monaco and Milan definitely wasn’t excessive. No, sir.)

Charles is there when Max walks in, as he is every single time Max walks in. The guy never seems to leave his beloved ice cream shop, and Max finds himself wondering if the other man gets enough sleep. Or if he even goes home to sleep, or if he has a bed set up in the back somewhere so he never has to waste time going back and forth between the ice cream shop and his home. 

He may not know Charles all that well, despite seeing him regularly for the past few months, but he does know that the man must have an incredible work ethic. 

The little bell above the door announces his arrival, and Charles looks up from behind the counter. For a brief second, Max is sure he sees a flash of excitement cross those gorgeous features, but the Monégasque quickly schools his expression into one of exasperation and indignation, complete with an overly dramatic eye roll. 

“No Red Bull Racing team members allowed,” Charles tells him with a huff, as he puts a brand-new tub of chocolate ice cream in the display freezer. 

Max snorts as he walks towards the counter. He had expected a frosty — pun intended — reception following Ferrari’s double DNF in the last race before the summer break, so Charles’ grumpy demeanor doesn’t deter him.  

“Hello to you too, Charles,” the Dutchman sing-songs, ignoring the way a couple of teenage girls at a table by the window gape at him. “Let me guess, Ferrari’s double DNF in Belgium was somehow my fault?”

Charles meets his gaze and narrows his eyes. He points an ice cream scoop at him. “I am not sure how, but yes.” He waggles the scoop accusingly. 

It’s Max’s turn to roll his eyes. “Right, because the two of them crashing into each other in turn two, while in P8 and P9 respectively, while I was at the very front definitely had something to do with me?”

“Obviously,” Charles confirms with a sniff. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Max laughs, shaking his head in a manner that can only be described as fond. He comes to a halt in front of the cash register at the counter, and waits for Charles to ask him what he wants. 

But Charles never does; instead busies himself with rearranging the different bowls of topping on top of the display freezer, wiping down the counter, and restocking the ice cream cones, all the while completely ignoring Max’s presence. Or general existence, even.

Eventually, Max runs out of patience.

“I’d like three scoops of vanilla ice cream, please.”

Charles doesn’t even stop what he’s doing. Doesn’t even look at him. “We’re all out of vanilla.”

Max stares. At Charles, then at the almost full tub of vanilla, with its little sign labeling it as vanilla sticking out of the fluffy ice cream. 

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Charles, I can see the vanilla ice cream. It’s right there,” Max insists, pointing at the flavor through the display glass. As if Charles isn’t completely aware of its existence, as if he’s not just being a little shit and punishing Max for something that isn’t even remotely his fault. 

Charles pauses in his bustling to look at Max. Then, he follows the length of Max’s arm to where his finger is pointing directly at the vanilla. His gaze returns to Max’s eyes as he says, deadpan: “That is only a display ice cream.”

Max blinks repeatedly.

“A display ice cream?” he echoes incredulously. 

“Yes,” Charles confirms, raising his chin. “It’s only for display, it is not to be served.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, it’s like this,” the Monégasque says, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug. 

Max doesn’t know if he wants to smack him or kiss him. 

(That’s a lie, he knows damn well that he wants to kiss that smug look right off of Charles’ stupidly beautiful face.)

“Fine,” the Dutchman sighs, moving his finger slightly to the right. “Then I would like three scoops of the chocolate.”

“I’m sorry, but that is also only a display ice cream,” Charles tells him with a completely straight face. 

“You’re not serious.”

Charles raises one full eyebrow. “Does it look like I’m joking?” he asks.

And, well, Max has to admit that it absolutely does not. 

He stands there in silence for a while, wondering why the hell this infuriating man has been the object of his deepest desires for the past few months. Wonders why Charles’ face is the only thing he sees when he closes his eyes to sleep at night, and why he is the one person that keeps appearing in the majority of his dreams. Wonders why, when his mind wanders as he has a secure grip around himself in bed, it keeps wandering to the mental images of what Charles would look like, feel like, sound like if he was there with Max, when all Charles seems to want to do is get under Max’s skin and infuriate him in ways and for reasons Max hadn’t even known he could let himself be infuriated. 

Oh, who is he kidding? Those reasons, coupled with Charles’ overall appearance and being, are exactly why his mind never seems to tire of Charles whatever-the-fuck-his-middle-name-is Leclerc, and only him. 

Max has always been a sucker for challenges. And Charles is definitely a challenge. 

Had Charles been an F1 driver instead of the owner of an ice cream shop, Max just knows their on-track battles would have been epic. Their rivalry would have been one for the ages; their names and lives so intertwined that people could not have mentioned one without also mentioning the other. Because Max is sure that Charles’ passion, his stubbornness and his outright refusal to give in to anything or anyone would have translated into a fierce, unyielding, unapologetic driver. 

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Max gives a quick shake of his head to clear is racing mind. Then, he fixes Charles with a hard stare. 

“Let me guess, these are all ‘display ice creams’?” he asks, gesturing with a hand at the numerous tubs of flavors in the display freezer. 

“Of course not,” Charles scoffs, as if that’s the most ridiculous statement that has been made in the ice cream shop in the past few minutes. “That would be a horrible way to run a business. We have one flavor that is not only for display.”

Max is almost afraid to ask, but he does anyway. “Which is?”

Charles doesn’t answer the question with words, just points to the bottom tub at the far left. The little sign reads ‘Mint chip’.

“Who the fuck eats mint chip ice cream?” Max asks, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “That’s like eating toothpaste.”

For the first time since Max stepped through the door, Charles smiles. A beautiful, self-satisfied, mischievous smile that does things to Max’s body, mind and soul. It makes his heart rate pick up and his skin tingle with an excitement he has no business feeling. 

Pathetic. He’s absolutely pathetic. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Max. That's all I have to offer today.”

And Max, proving just how completely gone he is on this ridiculous man, lets out a long, tired sigh. 

“Three scoops of mint chip, please,” he requests in a voice that is completely resigned. 

Charles’ face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree, and he scurries to get one of the small glass bowls reserved for customers who want to eat their ice cream in the shop, not even needing to ask if that’s what Max is planning to do, or if he wants his ice cream in a cone. And although Charles is doing his damnedest to make Max believe that his general existence on this earth is causing Charles physical pain and emotional turmoil, the fact that Charles remembers his preference doesn’t go unnoticed by Max. 

He won’t even entertain the idea that Charles might just be adamant on making Max sit in his shop and eat his mint chip ice cream so Charles can watch him suffer with every spoonful. 

Charles is generous with the scoops — incredibly so — and Max is sure those three scoops he requested actually equal the size of at least six regular-sized scoops. He realizes that he probably should have asked for one scoop instead of three. He watches as Charles sticks a spoon in the ice cream and places the bowl on the counter in front of Max with the biggest grin on his face.

“It’s on the house,” Charles tells him, probably just to further add to Max’s suffering. 

The Dutchman eyes the bowl of ice cream warily, quietly cursing it and himself, before picking it up with a hesitating hand. Charles watches him expectantly the entire time as Max makes his way to a small table in one corner of the shop. Behind him, a small child, probably around five or six, had entered the shop with his mother while Max was waiting for Charles to finish scooping, and Max hears the boy ask for two scoops of strawberry ice cream. And Charles — the fucking asshole — makes a point out of saying ‘coming right up’ in both Italian and English just to fuck with Max some more.

Max takes a seat with his back to the window so he can face Charles. Because if nothing else, he’s not going to let Charles win.

The first spoonful really does taste like toothpaste with a hint of chocolate, and it’s an awful combination. It takes every ounce of willpower Max has not to let the disgust he’s feeling show on his face. He lets the ice cream melt in his mouth for a long moment, before swallowing the disgusting liquidized ice cream, all the while maintaining a completely unaffected expression. 

Charles watches him eat the entire bowl of ice cream, and Max never breaks eye contact. With every expressionless swallow, Max can see the thinly veiled disappointment on Charles’ face and the satisfaction he gets from that is enough to motivate him to finish every single bite. He even makes a point out of scraping the melted remains of the ice cream from the sides of the bowl, scooping it up into a mint green coloured soup in his spoon, and eating it. He even briefly considers licking the bowl clean just to get a rise out of Charles, but the Monégasque turns away from him with a huff before he can put his plan into action.

Which, thank fuck, because Max is starting to feel a bit sick from the ridiculous amount of toothpaste-flavored ice cream he has just consumed out of spite and spite alone. He pushes the bowl forward and away from himself on the table with a frown.

Charles goes back to ignoring his presence for the next fifteen minutes, and Max waits. Just because he can — just because he knows this wasn’t the outcome Charles had expected and he wants to revel in the satisfaction of finally getting under Charles’ skin for once for a little while longer. 

Eventually, Charles comes to collect his empty bowl and gives Max a disapproving glare. 

“Well? How was it?”

And Max, unable to resist, gives Charles his biggest, brightest smile. “It was delicious, thank you.”

If looks could kill, Max would have been dead. Then, Charles turns on his heels and walks away with Max’s empty bowl and spoon. 

Taking the win, Max gets to his feet and waits for Charles to look over at him from behind the counter. When he does, he gives the other man a wave. “See you tomorrow, Charles.”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow!” Charles shoots back.

“Oh, but I am,” Max counters. It sounds like a promise, and it is. 

As he walks out of the ice cream shop, feeling Charles’ gaze boring into the back of his head as he does, Max pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts looking up hotels in the area with available rooms.

***

Max stays in Milan for two weeks, and he goes to Charles’ ice cream shop every single day. 

Every day, Charles tells him the only flavor he can serve him is mint chip. By day three, Max has stopped trying to argue with him. By day five, Max orders vanilla and Charles responds with ‘three scoops of mint chip coming up’. And every day, Max sits at his little table by the window to eat his ice cream while Charles stands behind the counter, watching him eat the entire time. 

Every. Single. Day. 

And every single day, Max can see Charles’ resolve crumbling, little by little, convincing him that his tragic efforts are not in complete vain. They might be mostly in vain, but Max is in far too deep at this point to care.

On the eighth day, Max stays until closing and Charles spends the majority of his free moments actually hanging around Max’s table and engaging him in conversation. It's a step in the right direction, even if Charles does end up kicking the Dutchman out when he has to count the register.

And on the eleventh day, as Max is about to leave after finishing yet another disgusting, massive portion of mint chip ice cream, Charles finds himself looking at the blond from behind the counter, watching as Max smiles down at his phone. Those piercing blue eyes are crinkling in delight, causing adorable smile lines to appear at their corners, his full, inviting lips stretching to expose his straight, white teeth. A wave of something — jealousy, Charles would define it as if he wasn’t a pigheaded dick when it comes to four-time F1 World Champion Max Emilian Verstappen — washes over him at the thought of whatever or whoever it is that puts that smile on Max's face. 

It makes the Monégasque realize that all of his attempts over the past few months to convince himself that he doesn’t find Max attractive or charming as hell, and that he definitely doesn’t want to find out whether Max likes vanilla in bed, too, have been for naught. 

And so, with an overwhelming feeling that he's losing a battle he's been fighting for months, Charles throws away the paper towel he had been using to dry his hands and resigns himself to his fate. Because sometimes, perseverence needs to be rewarded.

And he's not just referring to Max's.

“You can take me out to dinner tonight,” he tells Max, and it sounds like the statement pains him. Which it kind of does.

Max stops dead, one hand on the door handle, half-turned to face Charles. The look on his face is one of utter surprise.

“Really?” he asks, and he sounds so fucking hopeful that it should probably make Charles change his mind. But instead, it makes him want to close up the shop immediately and let Max take him out to dinner right fucking now.

Which is pathetic, really. But then again, so is the way Charles has been waking up every day hoping Max Verstappen would walk through the door of his ice cream shop for the past few months.

But, having no intention of showing his hand, Charles maintains a stoic expression as he nods. 

“Pick me up here at nine.”

Max's smile is so wide that Charles wonders if it makes his cheeks hurt. He also wonders if said cheeks will feel as warm to the touch as they look.

“Okay,” Max says, still smiling. “Then I'll see you again at nine.”

And with that, Max turns, pulls the door open, and walks out of the shop. 

When Charles can only just see the back of the Dutchman through the window, he sees Max stopping briefly on the sidewalk and pumping his fist in the air in the same celebratory manner Charles has seen after so many victorious races over the years.

He looks ridiculous, and Charles might just be falling a little bit in love with him.

Charles doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

***

It turns out that Max's preferences in bed are far more adventurous than his taste in ice cream.

Which turns out to be yet another thing they're on the same page about.

[weediee]

Rotten is the flesh

HUMAN!ALASTOR x READER (she/her pronouns)

E/N: She has risen everyone, I’m back again fourteen days later to announce that I’m creating a new story instead of just short ones. This will have multiple chapters - I really don’t have a schedule but they will come out in at least 1-2 weeks at a time. If you have any questions or ideas for the chapters LET ME KNOW! It’s lovely to be back

Summary: Y/N and Alastor Hartfelt - a radio host, meet in a newly opened bad, and talked before returning to Alastor’s home. The next morning Y/N find what seems to be rotten carcass in Al’s freezer.

WARNINGS:

Cannibalism, swearing, sex before marriage, hints at sex but no actual smut. smoking, human bodies, alcohol.

I wasn’t one to visit bars. Yes on occasion, if I felt like having a drink and maybe finding a man to dance with for a while, but never was it a daily or even weekly occurrence. The jazz was lovely, the atmosphere was cozy, but the amount of noise - the floods of people - and the alcoholic men and women had gathered like swarms to the dance floor and really any spot surrounding the bar where I could be found seeking refuge.

I was stood, walking outside for a moment to breathe when I saw the New Orleans Radio host, Alastor Hartfelt stood smoking a cigarette in the cold. He was always a very handsome, well read, well spoken man. Seeing him doing something like this was a culture shock none the less.

“You shouldn’t be smoking cigarettes, Mr Hartfelt. It turns your lungs to coal.” I smiled, walking over. He quickly took it out of his mouth, stomping on it before looking up at me. “I’m sorry you saw my smoking dear, it doesn’t happen often.” He smiled.

“Oh it’s really not a problem,” I laughed softly. “Nice to meet you. My name is Y/N.” I put my hand out to be shaken. “Likewise, Alastor.” A smile reflected back. “You’re a darling, aren’t you?” He laughed. To be hit on by men was one thing, but a compliment such as this from Alastor? It was almost laughable.

We both stood for a moment, hands connected in the shake before we both let go. “Well, I better be going.” I said softly, looking away at the creek.

“Before you go, my dear.” He interrupted my thought. “Would you care to meet up for dinner some time? It would be an honour to dine with a beauty like yourself.” His head cocked to the side inquisitively.

—————

And just like that, I found myself in the bed of Alastor Hartfelt. The infamous New Orleans radio host. Was I proud? No, not at all. I weren’t to be proud of sleeping with a man before marriage but an opportunity like this was irresistible. Women would pay to be with Alastor, who was I to complain for free?

It appeared to be later on in the morning. I looked over to face Alastor, his head still rested against the silky white pillows on his bed. A wonderful bedroom, house, fully decorated from top to bottom with only the finest furniture and of course it was spotless.

I sat up, trying my hardest to not disturb Alastor. What was a way I could give back to Alastor for his hospitality? And the time in bed.

Perfect thought, breakfast. A proper, large, breakfast that would be sure to satisfy him. So, I got to it. Rushing down the mahogany stairs to prepare breakfast.

—————

Breakfast was coming a long great, I had left meats for last considering they would be easiest to cook. I opened the fridge to see what Alastor had stocked, only to be met with a foul odour. It truly was what one could only describe as rank, violating even.

It wasn’t a smell like any other. None the less, I took out the container that I assumed was what contained the smells. Upon opening the lid and inspecting, inside were multiple pieces of meat wrapped in cloth. I tentatively held my night gown up to cover my nose, pinching in an attempt to assassinate the smell. In my mind, this was a rotten dear that he had perhaps forgotten to prepare since he was a hunter correct? It was the normal, thigh and breast.

But deers don’t have human hands and feet.

I stared down at the dismembered parts, standing up straight suddenly at the echo behind me.

“What are you doing?”

E/N: run girl run! I hope you enjoyed lol, let me know if you all have suggestions for the series. I would love to hear them ❤️

[lunarin64art]

✩‧₊˚ Subspace Highway GF ˚₊‧✩ & ✧‧₊˚ Psychic BF ˚₊‧✧

Bonus: The odd reality of dating the strongest fighter in the province & the gayest slut in the province...(Yes, this is a weekly occurrence)

[natti-ice]

Night Moves- Dean Winchester.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of eating, established relationship, based on the song “night moves” by Bob Sager

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated<3

You sat in the passenger seat of the impala humming along to the song on the radio, you hadn't heard it in a while so you forgot how much you liked it. You mindlessly stared off into the dark trees on the almost abandoned highway, remembering the first time you ever heard this song. 

You were abruptly brought out of your daydream when the song changed which was weird because there were at least 2 minutes left. 

"Hey, I was listening to that" you said turning your attention to your boyfriend in the driver seat. 

"Really?" Dean questioned "Why?"

"Because I like the song, Bob Sager is a legend." You replied

"Yeah obviously, but out of all songs, 'night moves' is your favorite?" He said with a light chuckle, lowering the volume of 'ramble on' that replaced Sager. 

"Yes, actually it is" you were ready to defend this song with your life "Is that a problem?" You incited

This was a common occurrence throughout the course of your relationship, you never argued about anything serious but when it came to music all cards are on the table. There were just certain things about music you couldn't agree on, sometimes the bickering would go on for days before you two would eventually kiss and make up. 

You knew this song was different though, but he didn't. He didn't know the significance of this song but you were going to change that before this went too far, it already continued into the diner where you two were having your weekly date night. 

By now the whole conversation has become about how Led Zeppelin is unappreciated, somehow all music conversations lead to Led Zeppelin. You waited for Dean to finish his second piece of pie so you'd know you'll have his full attention. 

"Do you really not know why I like the song so much?" You questioned hoping maybe he'd remember. He shook his head no, you sighed. "The night you first said you loved me, it was playing in the background" You explained

Dean's eyes went wider than you'd ever seen, all the memories of that night flooded his brain, the bar, the smell, the atmosphere, what he was wearing, what you were wearing, he remembered it all so how did he forget this one detail?

"That's right!" he shouted grabbing the attention of the only other customer and the waitress, "some drunk guy yelled out 'this is my jam!' across the bar right before I said it. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot" there was regret in his voice but fondness in his eyes. That was the best night of Dean's life. 

"Now you can see why I like it so much, it reminds me of us." You smiled at him

He smiled back, "Yeah, still a shit song" he shrugged then dodged the balled-up napkin you threw at him.

-

Eventually, you both started making your way back to the Impala, you walked out of the diner hand in hand. Right before you made it to the car you heard it…

"Workin' on our night moves, trying to lose the awkward teenage blues"  Dean sang under his breath. You immediately stopped in your tracks, causing him to do the same. He sighed before looking over at you, he knew he wasn't going to hear the end of this.

You raised your eyebrows at him, a big grin slapped across your face

"Shut up" he rolled his eye, a smile pulling at his lips

You smiled, leaned over and pecked his cheek, then whispered in his ear "I don't think I will."

[forensic420]

MW2 Task Force 141+König Hyperrealistic HC’s ✰

Ghost

-Not as reserved as you think he’d be, he’s actually very talkative. Him and Soap’s comm dialogue is more then enough evidence to show that he enjoys a good conversation and even jokes.

-Does that soldier sleep position often x . He’s a light sleeper, always ready to defend. When comfortable you can find him mumbling in his sleep, usually soft “yes”’s and “no”’s.

-Doesn’t fully understand American culture, he’s very confused by common American delicacies. “Y/N, what the fuck is a bucee’s?” He’d ask with a stressed look.

-Avid user of the word “cunt”. Top three favorite words. Also loves saying, “cheers ya slag”, he thinks and waits for scenarios so he can use it.

Gaz

-Very passionate about the military and his career. Gaz as a child would attend parades only to see the soldiers and wait at the end of the parade to meet them, his room was also filled with military toys and articles.

-His main song he listens to is Red Nation by The Game and Lil Wayne, it’s one of the few songs he downloaded on a portable music player.

-Is always around Price no matter where. You can always find him in Price’s office just chatting away and discussing documents. The two are bonded and Gaz is grateful to have an “older” and experienced father figure.

-Enjoys quiet days at the base. He likes just being able to hang out and be around his friends and team, he’d go to great lengths for his fellow soldiers.

Soap

-Soap’s accent can be super thick at times, causing the team to not understand him at times. He doesn’t attempt to correct himself most times, just continuing to ramble and goes on with the conversation.

-Is terrified of Ronald Mcdonald. “He be too happy, y’know?” He’d claim and frown. BIG fan of Grimace and the Hamburgler though, often always commenting on his love for them when the team mentions fast food.

-Secret artist. Soap’s mystery talent is he’s very gifted in drawing, he keeps his sketch pads under his mattress. He’d never show anyone but he is engrossed in sketching the team. There’s pages full of Ghost, Price, and Gaz just doing common things like sitting in a meeting or having a conversation with another team member.

-Absolutely hates doing dishes. Whenever he’s on dish duty he always complains. “A'd ower die.” He’d say and convince Gaz to do it, with the agreement of him doing Gaz’s chores for a week.

Price

-Is always rambling to Gaz or Soap about old movies he loves and makes them watch it with him. It became a weekly occurrence to find Price with the team watching some old western or military film.

-Enjoys watching documentaries about ancient civilizations, his favorite is Mesopotamia and the Shang dynasty.

-Price is always making sure his team is feeling good, often spending an equal amount of alone time with each member to talk and company them. “How’re you feeling, son?” He’d ask with a gentle but firm hand on their shoulder.

-When Soap is rambling and his accent is completely drowning a coherent sentence Price just nods and hums to him. He never comments on it, even if he doesn’t fully understand what was said.

König

-Huge fan of Rammstein. His teenage room was covered in posters of them and other bands like Helloween. Even as a full grown man he is not afraid to admit his love for Till Lindemann.

-A firm believer of Krampus and is very passionate about the subject. “Mein Gott! Don’t you know Knecht Ruprecht will get you if you’re naughty?” He’d tease to his soldiers, always backing it up by saying he knew a kid who got whipped by him.

-Has catatonic tendencies, will frequently withdrawal and get irritable. He’ll stay in his room going rigid and stays stupor. At times no Kortac member will see him, always wandering around base to try to find him. Once he snaps out of it he’ll often not remember it. “Was meinst du?” He’d ask and furrow his eyebrows, talking about a past day mission as if it were yesterday.

-As a child he was always absorbed and immersed in his mother’s snow globe collection. Gripping onto the mantle he’d watch the faux snow twirl around in the liquid. Was always afraid that somehow the globes would miraculously all fall off the mantle and shatter onto the ground.