#that one is still up for consideration just that I'll probably also take a while to get to it-

[dafry-shenanigans]

"Thank you."

I'm so unbelievably late cause responsibilities had me on a choke hold for the entire week-

So anyways... Did this in one sitting, but hope i did Alker justice! :)

@derrangedhemlock

[brookiesblurbs]

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

[randomshyperson]

I'll Keep You Warm - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

summary: During a mission, Wanda needs to keep warm, and there's no one better suited for the job than a demigod with fire powers.

words: 2.701k | warnings: this is not explicit at all but there's undressing and some innuendos, actually super fluff, friends (rivals) with mutual pining, attempt at humor (sometimes I think I'm funny), takes place after civil war, reader actually have the same personality as johnny storm because he's the only fire powered character I could think of while writing.

A/N-> Honestly, this was entirely based on the scene of Jacob warming up Bella in Twilight. It was requested as a challenge by @abimess about three years ago, and it's finally here. Never stop believing your request will see the light of the day guys (does this expression exist in English as well?)

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

-&-

Stake out missions are always a pain, but there's a code among the Avengers, and that's why instead of relaxing on some paradise island, you're in Siberia, collecting evidence for Natasha Romanoff.

To be fair, this was more of a favor to Nat than an Avengers duty, since the team was currently on a political tightrope, with half the people here and half somewhere else, with government contracts between them and councils all over the world. In the midst of all this mess, Natasha had discovered that the Red Room was not only operational, but also had a hundred thousand widows out there. The operation to locate and rescue these women was understaffed, and well, that's how you ended up in the Siberian winter with a grumpy witch and a synthezoid.

It turns out that the revelation that the Red Room was still operating was the exact kind of argument that the Avengers could use to exist, only super spies like Nat or Clint could find the widows, and well, only people like you, and the other Avengers could deal with that kind of power and influence. So while Natasha took care of the bureaucratic part, you and the others helped with everything else.

Stark and Cap were somewhere in Peru, and you envied a little the reconnaissance pictures that Tony sent to the group that contained the most beautiful tourist landscapes he visited with the justification of 'you never know where a black widow might be hiding' while you froze your ass with the people who liked you the least on the team.

Well, Vision didn't like you. In the same quantity as you hated him.

Wanda is a special case. You like to annoy her because she's really cute when she's mad, and she, although she's probably the most powerful person on the team and has full capacity to do so, has never put a definitive end to any of your torments towards her.

It was more of a game of teasing and friendly rivalry than mutual hatred.

The only thing you really disagreed on was the strange relationship she had with Vision, which always made you cross some line and say something stupid that would make her angry for weeks.

And it was also the reason you had offered to keep watch in the snow outside the hideout, while the two of them were safe and warm inside.

But only a few hours into the mission - Steve had already confirmed his status, as had Sam, who was in France, also having a great time as a tourist - when your slumber was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Vision, making you jump a little from the wooden chair.

"I wasn't sleeping!" You exclaimed immediately, to which the robot only sighed in reprimand, without comment. As you adjusted your posture and forced the sleep away, he stepped away from the canvas of the tent he had just crossed and cleared his throat.

"I require your assistance, Miss L/N." He begins, making you look at him in surprise.

The formal way Vision speaks always seems strange to you. You laugh shortly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Do you now, huh?"

That damn proud robot doesn't lose his composure under your irony. 

"As you may have noticed, the temperature has dropped considerably." 

You hum at his words, shrugging.  "I didn't, actually. Perks of being a demigod, I guess."

Vision sighs impatiently. "Well, the human in the group is cold." He explains grumpily, and you laugh in confusion.

"Sorry, I thought you were the one taking care of that, microwave." You retort, remembering well how Wanda, who must have been wearing three different coats the last time you two talked, grumbled the whole way about the snow, and how Vision seemed so pleased with himself when he offered to keep her warm with the heating function of his metal body.

So it was strange to see him standing there, begrudgingly asking for help.

"I was." He grumbles. "But my body... well, it overheated. I can't keep it that high heat for too long without damaging myself. Unlike you, of course. So I thought-"

"That I would save the day?" You interrupt, feigning some disinterest and then sighing. "Well, I don't know, I don't feel like a hero tonight." You sigh again, glazing him through the corner of your eye. "Maybe if you say please."

He chuckles incredulously. "You want me to beg you to save a teammate's life?" He retorts indignantly. "Maybe I should just report on your attitude. I'm sure Miss Romanoff will be happy to know what we've been wasting our energy on instead of the mission. Ridiculous arguments and-"

You burst out laughing, gesturing. "Dude, you need to lighten up. I'm obviously joking." You cut him off, standing up. "Take my watch. I'll keep your girlfriend warm."

If Vision could blush with anger, he probably would. He huffs, giving you room to get inside the tent.

"Just so you know, Miss Maximoff and I don't have that kind of relationship," he grudgingly clarifies, and you almost get the impression that this is something Wanda has asked him to do whenever someone - you - assumes differently.

You laugh, irony dripping onto your tongue as you retort, "I'm so sorry to hear that." And you imitate the sounds of fireworks and cheering, escaping a push from Vision to slip into the tent.

Even with your powers, it was easy to see how cold and damp it was in there. The tent, while spacious, didn't have much ability to accumulate heat from the fire pit outside or the small wood heater in the corner of the room, and almost all of your attitude disappeared when you caught a glimpse of the shivering figure on the camping mat.

Almost.

"Fear no more, Maximoff, your knight in shining armor is here." You teased, earning a small laugh from her.

Wanda adjusted herself to make room for you on the mattress. "Shut up, and get over here already."

Despite moving immediately, you retort, “Bossy,” which only makes her hide a smile against the pillow.

It should have been awkward, cuddling with a teammate, but as you adjusted and hugged her, it was only hard to ignore how Wanda seemed to have been molded for you. She fit perfectly against your body, and you tried not to blush at the sigh of relief she let out as she snuggled into your warmth.

“Thank you.” She sighed, eyes closed, hands moving inside your jacket. 

Your arms were around her, legs intertwined beneath the blanket that was no longer needed, and you didn’t trust your voice much to say more than a hoarse:  “Don’t mention it.”

A moment of silence passes, and then another. Your thoughts wander between Wanda, the Avengers, and what Natasha would say about how you’ve chosen to spend your time. Maybe Vis is right, and you’ve wasted enough moments that being used as a human heater is your only way to keep Wanda close. Maybe it’s too late to be anything else.

The silence stretches longer, and you almost think Wanda has fallen asleep, and you’re almost considering doing the same, when she groans.

“You’re being loud.”

Opening your mouth to defend yourself because you’re sure you haven’t said a word in the last few minutes, you shut yourself up before you do, as you realize the telepath snuggled against your chest was surely talking about another kind of noise. You snort lightly, folding your arms behind your head. The lack, even a little, of the warmth of one of them on her shoulders makes her groan in protest.

“If you weren’t nosy, you wouldn’t hear a thing.”

You snap back rudely, but Wanda chuckles, quite comfortable moving one of her hands inside your shirt. Your skin is considerably warmer without a fabric between you two, and it makes her hum in satisfaction.

"Yes, that's better." She whispers sleepily, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. The position becomes less and less platonic with each adjustment Wanda makes, but you would never complain.

You try to relax with so much contact - it's especially difficult now that you can smell Wanda's shampoo so directly, almost intoxicating all your senses with it. - And you're almost getting used to the sensation, when she grumbles dissatisfied.

"Why am I still cold?" There's a soft scratch of her nails against your lower back that makes you clear your throat and think of anything other than the sensation, in scenarios very different from this one.

You consider mumbling something about it being too cold outside for her to warm up in five minutes, and telling her to stop moving and wait a bit, but Wanda tries to repeat the skin-to-skin idea from before by adjusting herself so that she's practically all over you, both hands under your shirt. And that makes you jump in fright.

"Wow, slow down there, tigress." You scoff, really embarrassed now, and Wanda raises an eyebrow at the color in your cheeks - which increases considerably when she sits against your hips, hovering over you.

She looks at you with some curiosity, a smile playing on her lips. You have the impression that her eyes glow red for a second before she retorts:

"Don't act like this isn't your dream come true." She teases, half-joking and half-serious, you can only swallow hard as you stare into her eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You retort, well aware that a quick peek into your mind would tell Wanda that you know exactly what she's talking about.

But despite her skills, she's either too tired or too cold to do nothing more than let out a short laugh and roll her eyes.

"Can you stop thinking about dirty things for a second and help me out?" She grumbles, and you'll probably agree with anything this woman says while she's on top of you. She starts to take off her sweatshirt, and you forget how to breathe. Your expression brings a blush to her cheeks, but she doesn't lose her composure. "Stop it."

Yep, she can definitely hear your thoughts.

You clear your throat, adjusting yourself to cover your face with your arm, and block that sinful image before you.

"You stop." Is your answering grunt, to which Wanda gives a tense chuckle. "What the hell is this now? Undressing on my lap."

Wanda, who has already discarded all her sweaters on the floor, rolls her eyes. You're not looking, but she seems to be having a great time.

"You don't pay attention to anything, do you?" She retorts, and sighs to herself when she realizes that with all the movement, she now can see part of your abs exposed by the shirt. The anatomy of the gods was something really unfair and hard to ignore and Wanda is grateful that you are covering your eyes, because she can hide her own reaction from you.

"I pay attention to too many things if you ask me." You mumble, but Wanda ignores your answer, busy removing her shirt. With a sports bra being the only thing covering her torso now, she moves her hands to the edge of your jacket. With the gentle tug, you startle again, and stare at her in shock when you realize her lack of clothes. "F-for Odin, what the hell-"

"I need skin-to-skin warmth, you perv." She retorts firmly, even though her face is burning. You stammer in amazement, unable to look away from the cleavage in front of you—which is too close when Wanda pushes your jacket off. “You didn’t pay attention in any of those survival classes they organized for us, did you?” She insists on making conversation, but you’re mumbling sincerely:

“I don’t think I’d know my name right now if you asked me.” Wanda chuckles, rolling her eyes. Your jacket falls down your back, and she reaches for the hem of your shirt. 

“Take it off.” 

“Won't even take me to dinner first, Maximoff?” You scoff, even though you’re complying. Wanda loses a bit of confidence at your exposure, clearing her throat when she realizes she’s staring.

She ignores her own reaction, looking away as she explains; “You probably don’t understand this because you’re not entirely human, but it’s really cold right now. I just need a little more warmth.” 

You smile at her, moving your hands to her hips, making Wanda sigh as you start to play with the knot of her sweatpants. “Are you really going to take it all off, Maximoff? I knew you were hardcore, but damn…” 

She groans in embarrassment, for the first time that night. Covering her face with her hands, you laugh at the sight. “This would be so much easier if you didn’t keep thinking the things you’re thinking.” She mutters. “It’s so annoying.” 

You laugh, tugging at the knot so it comes loose. The slight slack in her sweatpants that allows you to see more of her hips makes you sigh. “Well, I’m still fifty percent human. No one is ironclad against a pretty girl on their lap. Oh, wait, your boyfriend is.”

Wanda takes her hands away from her face to hold your wrists away from her hips but still in your lap. "Vision isn't my boyfriend." 

You narrow your eyes at her suspiciously. "But he's something." She hesitates, letting go of your wrists. 

"Yeah, just like you are." She murmurs, taking you by surprise. She sighs then, adjusting her hair. "Friends, roommates, teammates. It doesn't matter what you call it."

You smile. "How about... personal heater?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "Shut up and take off your pants."

Despite the raised eyebrow, you don't say anything else. There's a pull apart, so that the two of you can strip down to your underwear. You do that fairly quickly, because even with your powers, you can feel how cold Wanda's skin is now.

But once you're settled under the covers again, Wanda can breathe a sigh of relief. She resists the urge to dig her nails into your back, feeling your body covering hers, and now skin to skin, the temperature rises much more quickly.

You’re also kind enough to emit more heat, and Wanda can’t resist hiding her face against your neck when your arms wrap around her completely. 

It’s a very tender moment between you. Wanda doesn’t want to think about how vulnerable she is, trusting you completely to keep her alive. And she also doesn’t want to think about how much better this feels than anything she’s ever felt. The safety inside your arms leaves her breathless. Suddenly, she finds herself asking; “Did you really mean all the things you were thinking?” 

You laugh shortly, your fingers moving to caress her hair and Wanda can’t help the gasp that escapes her lips at the sensation. “I don’t want to have this conversation while you’re having a hypothermia episode, Maximoff.” 

“I’m not—” 

“I paid attention in survival classes.” You interrupt her. "One of the most common signs of hypothermia is confusion, and one of the desperate actions people tend to have is to remove all clothing. You're lucky I can warm you up so quickly."  She says nothing to that, finally realizing that she's stopped shivering, and her thoughts are much clearer than before. She's no longer desperate to get warm, because she's not cold at all now. Wanda is ready to thank you, when you add, "Of course, there are still ways to warm you up even more..."

You move your head, and playfully bite her cheek, making her squirm with laughter before pinching you on the corners. You're still laughing when she turns inside your embrace, pouting but not pulling away from you.

With your arms firmly around her, you adjust your mouth to her ear.

“Go to sleep, you need to.” You whisper, smiling at the way she tries to hide her body’s reactions from you. “I’ll keep you warm through the night.”

She reaches out to intertwine her hand with yours, and rest it on top of her stomach. When you two finally fall asleep, you have matching smiles on your faces.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With each email written and received, you and Bradley are both aching for more details. While he's thinking about plans for a first date, you get apprehensive, knowing you're going to be devastated when he returns to wherever he calls home after a few days of leave. If the two of you had an opportunity to speak more intimately, there's a chance the details could fall into place.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being hot

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

After much consideration on the matter, you sat down at home that evening with your phone and started to type up a response to Bradley. He wanted to know in an overabundance of detail how you'd feel if he asked to cancel your dinner reservation and chill with takeout instead? You weren't quite sure what he was getting at, and it felt a little bit like he had given you another assignment to work on, but you were planning on being completely transparent with him. 

Once again, the ease with which you and he communicated, even through the written word alone, was something that made you a little dizzy. A little needy. Bradley had better communication skills and paid you more attention than half of the men you'd dated, and he wasn't even in the same time zone as you.

Bradley,

We got the package you sent. My kids went wild over their personalized notes, as per usual. You've reached full celebrity status in my classroom. We'll be working on sending some notes back to you in the next few days, so brace yourself.

Please remember that you asked me for an abundance of detail here... What would I do if you wanted to change plans? Wanted to spend a quiet evening hanging out at your place instead of going out? In an extreme effort to sound as cool as possible right now... just thinking about this is making me feel warm enough that I need to take a lap around my apartment. I guess first of all, I would tell you that as far as takeout is concerned, I love Thai food the most. I'm not very picky though, so even a generic pizza and some beer would more than suffice. 

If you said you were tired from work and still wanted to hang out, I wouldn't be too pressed about the details. I would be perhaps a little giddy that you missed me enough to want me around. I'd offer to pick up dinner on my way. I would let you choose the movie. I wouldn't even be upset if you fell asleep. In fact I'd probably just cover you with a blanket and let you doze. There is perhaps no worse feeling than forcing yourself to go out when you just really don't want to. And right now nothing sounds better to me than watching a movie with you on your couch. But I have to know... if you're 6'1", are you too tall to stretch out there comfortably? Where would I end up? Would we be touching? Please reply with an abundance of detail. 

I know this scenario is purely hypothetical, but it does sound pretty perfect. I'll be thinking about splitting some Thai curry with you on your couch for a long time. Maybe during those couple days of leave when you get back to San Diego, we could meet? I think I would like that, even if you just have one day before you have to get back to your regular routine. And now I need to take another lap around my apartment.

One last thing. The aviator who took my photo on the beach was a woman, but I appreciate your response. I can't guarantee I'll stay off the beach, but I can guarantee that I'll give a guy a chance. Also, what does a girl have to do around here to get a dreamy sunset photo of you? 

Once again, hitting send before I can change my mind.

You took another lap around your apartment, even going so far as to walk around the block before it got too dark outside. Thai food and Bradley Bradshaw and a movie on his couch. There was a loop playing in your mind where he leaned in and kissed you before calling you 'Gorgeous Girl' and reaching for your hand.

"Why are you torturing yourself like this?" you moaned out loud when you walked back inside all flushed with desire. You took a long bath. You made some sleepy time tea. You sat on your couch with your notebook and worked on lesson plans until it was pretty late, but you weren't tired at all.

Frustrated that you were letting this man take over so much of your brain, you went to your bedroom and plugged your phone in for the night. And that's when you heard the familiar ping, alerting you to the fact that you had a new email.

"No way," you gasped when you looked at the screen. You'd just send him a response two hours ago, and Bradley had already written back. You flopped down onto your bed, wrenching your phone back from the charger as you started to read.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Your answer was enlightening, thank you. Relieved to hear you wouldn't pout about missing the dinner reservation. I love Thai food, but I would absolutely insist on grabbing the takeout and having you pick the movie (nothing with scary spiders, please). 

I actually don't really fit on my couch too well at all. If I really stretch out, my feet dangle over the arm, and there wouldn't be much room left for you, too. Would we be touching? God, I hope so. Where would you end up? I'm blushing just thinking about the possibilities. 

You asked for details? Well, I'd ask for permission. If you gave me permission to touch you, we'd be holding hands. If you gave me permission for more than that, then you'd be covering both of us with a blanket, and I'd be holding you a lot closer. I don't think I should provide further details on that right now, actually. Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head.

If you're feeling generous enough to give me a chance, then I'm feeling generous enough to send you a sunset photo. But frankly a girl like you isn't going to have to do much at all to get whatever she wants. Next decent sunset around here is all for you.

Your Truly,

Bradley

Well, you may never sleep again. You read his email twice before pulling up the photo of him in front of his jet, and your mind started to wander as you looked at his face. No, you'd never sleep again.

------------------------------

Bradley felt pretty ridiculous. He'd never taken so many photos of himself before in his life. Snapping a few for your class while in his cockpit with all of his gear on was one thing, but trying to get a flattering one of his face with the sun setting in the middle of the ocean was something else entirely. He was alone in a deserted part of the deck, thankful nobody else could see him. 

"Maybe she won't notice if I'm not in it," he muttered as he snapped one of the setting sun. The sky was glowing a deep orange, and the clouds moving in made everything look even dreamier. He started thinking about you and the fact that you said you were going to give him a chance. The details weren't important. He'd work that part out. When he got back to San Diego, he was going to see if you and he were as compatible in person as you were right now. But the remainder of his deployment was the one thing that was preventing that from happening immediately, and you did ask him for a photo of himself. If you really wanted it, he'd make sure you had it.

He had never been so stressed out about his scars in his adult life before right now. The best photo he took of himself was one where they looked a little more prominent. He'd sleep on it tonight and consider if he wanted to send it or a different one. Usually he didn't care at all. He supposed that in person, women would either talk to him or not, depending upon if they were bothered by the way he looked or not. But you weren't with him in person, and the more detailed the photos were, the more likely you were to dwell on his face now. He really wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

After grabbing an inspired dinner alone in the mess hall, he thought about eating spicy Thai curry on his couch while you and he argued playfully about which movie to watch. Then he thought about you sitting on his lap and maybe even touching his scars which he hoped you wouldn't be bothered by. Then, as he changed to head to the gym, he imagined all the things he thought about but didn't tell you. Like pulling you onto his lap or stretching out on his couch with you lying mostly on top of him. His hand would find a nice resting spot on your back, or maybe even a little lower. His lips would eventually find yours, and the movie would become a distant memory in his mind.

"Shit." Now he was the one who needed to walk a lap before he could even go to the gym. He was already sweating by the time he got there, making it his continued mission to avoid the married woman while he listened to his playlist. He did a few extra reps, knowing you were on dry land in San Diego and wanting to make sure he looked as good as possible. Maybe he could make up for the close up photo of his face with his body.

Without sleeping on it, Bradley went back to the lounge and logged in. He sent you the best photo of the bunch along with two sentences.

Thinking of you, Gorgeous. Tell me about your week.

But he didn't hear back from you right away, and it wasn't for lack of checking his inbox. He hoped you and your students were working their way through the last batch of notes that he'd mailed. Or maybe you were busy and tired from taking them on a field trip. He was hoping there was a reason other than you not liking his bad selfie that meant he didn't get a response. 

Luckily he got busy over the weekend so he didn't have to think about it as much. Each time he climbed that ladder up to his cockpit and waited patiently for his jet to launch from the carrier deck, he took a few seconds to clear his mind and make sure he was focused on the right thing. He needed to survive this deployment so he could even potentially allow his thoughts to go further with you later.

When he made his way back to the lounge after dinner and a shower on Sunday night, he definitely got more in his inbox than he was hoping for. And not in a good way. There was a new message from you, but it was sitting right beneath a second, newer message. From Vanessa.

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked himself, loud enough that the guy next to him turned and glanced his way. It had been months since they'd spoken. Literally fucking months, and she was emailing him now? "No." Sudden panic started to boil to the surface as he quickly tried to click on it, now terrified about what she could be contacting him in regards to.

Hi,

I'm only writing to you because I have a bit of an issue that I need your help dealing with. I can't find my favorite water bottle anywhere. I think it's in your kitchen cabinet, and I just started at a new gym, so I really need it. Let me know how I can get into your house to retrieve it. And please don't take forever to respond to this like you usually do. Like I said, I really need it.

Vanessa

It was a joke. It must be. Bradley double checked the email address to make sure he wasn't being pranked by Nat or somebody else, but no, it was really from Vanessa. 

"A fucking water bottle?" he muttered. He couldn't even picture what she was talking about. Unless it was that ugly, oversized pink thing she used to carry around with her everywhere? The one with the big handle that he joked could double as a weapon? That thing?

What the fuck. He wrote back to her before he even bothered to open the email from you.

Vanessa, it's a water bottle. And it's already been months. Can't this wait until I'm home?

He hit send, rolled his shoulders and took a few deep breaths. He could archive her message so he didn't have to see it again, and he'd just deal with her bullshit later. He would read what you had to say instead, and hopefully it would cheer him up. But after he stood and stretched for a minute and sat back down, there was already a new response from Vanessa waiting for him.

"What the actual hell?" he grunted. He didn't even know what time it was at home, and he didn't take the few seconds to do the math as he started to read.

No, Bradley. I can't wait. It's a $65 sustainable, dual temperature, leak proof water bottle in a limited edition color. And I would like it back. I tried to find a replacement online, but I do not want a potentially used water bottle. Please advise.

He sat there with his fists clenched and his jaw set tight. He literally could not believe her. Anyone else would just use a different water bottle like a normal person, but he knew she'd be on his ass nonstop about this now. The fact that he was going to have to explain this situation to Nat and beg her to go over there with his spare key was almost laughable. He'd probably owe her two steak dinners if he asked her to deal with his ex girlfriend, because she never could stomach Vanessa. 

He sent Nat a quick email anyway with Vanessa's phone number which he had to look up in his phone, begging her to take care of this for him. It would be worth the price of two dinners at this point. Then he settled back in his seat and tapped on your beautiful name, letting the monitor fill up with your words. When he started reading, he forgot he was supposed to feel nervous at what you sent back in response to the close up selfie.

Bradley,

Wow. I didn't think things could improve after the photo of you with your jet and the video where you're speaking. But I was wrong. So wrong. And I'm not upset about it. You're very handsome. The sunset looks okay, too. Now you're the one messing with my head.

I'm sorry I didn't write back immediately, but you should know that your hot photo has taken up residence in my mind. My week involved three of my students getting sick with the flu as well as a bunch of parent/teacher conferences, and tonight I'm really tired. The idea of snuggling, or more, with you on your couch has been playing on loop. I'm giving you permission to hold my hand if we ever meet in person. You have very nice looking hands. You have a very nice looking everything. Would you mind me asking how old you are?

Right, well, we mailed another box back to you on Friday afternoon. My kids asked me to project a photo of a Super Hornet onto the wall so they could have a drawing contest. I finally caved and let them, and they want you to be the judge. And once again, you'll have eighteen individual letters to read. Nineteen if you include the one I put in the box.

On that note, I'm going to take a bath and snuggle up in bed. And you can't blame a girl for looking at that photo again.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal 

Now this was the kind of thing he wanted in his inbox, not questions about missing water bottles. Bradley hit reply immediately, happy that you hadn't even mentioned his scars. You thought he was handsome in the close up picture? He always figured he was okay enough looking that his height and build made women say he was attractive. But you actually called him handsome. He started typing back to you, already feeling so much better.

--------------------------

After resting all weekend, you were definitely feeling better. You loved your students, but sometimes dealing with their parents was more than you bargained for. Adults were often worse than kids when it came to complaining and exercising patience. All of the conferences from last week were a thing of the past now, but you still felt a little bad for taking so long to write back to Bradley. Especially after he sent you that photo.

Maybe you felt like you had to reel it in a little bit. What was the most that was going to happen? He'd agree to meet you during his short leave in San Diego? Maybe you'd go out on a date? It would probably be the best date of your life. It might even turn out to be the best night of your life. And then he'd leave for another station with the Navy, or maybe he'd return back home, leaving you feeling even lonelier than you did before you inadvertently mailed him that first box.

It was a good thing you had your students to take your mind off things on Monday morning. 

"Are we going to talk about aviation now or after lunch?" Violet asked as she unpacked her pencil box.

You took a deep breath and said, "We're actually going to start a unit on Natural History today." Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at you like you'd completely lost your mind. "It'll be great!"

Oliver's hand rocketed into the air. "Does Lieutenant Bradley also know stuff about Natural History? Is that what we're going to write to him about now?"

Great. Your students were just as attached as you were. "Well since our aviation unit is going to be tapering off, we probably won't need to be writing to him as much now."

"What?" gasped Jayden. 

"No way," complained Nia. 

After that, you tried to move along with your lesson plans, but the entire class just sat there quietly, barely engaged with what you were saying. And perhaps part of it was your fault, because you didn't really feel like teaching this after all. By the time lunch and recess arrived, you felt defeated. You sat quietly at your desk in your empty classroom while your kids played outside, and you ate your lunch while you checked your phone. Bradley had written back an hour ago. Even if you wanted to wait until later to read it, you wouldn't have been able to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

That note from you made my day. I can't wait for the new letters from the kids to arrive so I can spend my evenings writing back instead of absolutely living in the gym right now. You want me to judge a drawing contest? Bring it on. I'm so ready.

I'll tell you how old I am. I wasn't expecting to be so nervous about it, though. I'm thirty-six. You definitely look younger than that. I know it's never appropriate to ask a woman how old she is, so maybe you'll offer that number up without me asking? And maybe you'll tell me that I'm still within the age range of men you let email you regularly? Please?

Not gonna lie, taking a hot bath sounds amazing right now. And snuggling up in something bigger than an extra long twin bed would be heavenly. And thinking about you doing either of those things is enough to get me through the week with a smile on my face. Maybe even through the rest of the month. Maybe even to the point where I'm in San Diego. You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?

I'll be waiting for more air mail and another email.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

"Damn it," you groaned, melting back into your desk chair and shoving a cracker into your mouth. Even if meeting him was going to be a one-off, you still wanted to do this. You still wanted to write back to him and flirt and listen to his voice in the video he sent for your class with Marty the mechanic. You wanted to think about him working out on the aircraft carrier. You still wanted him to call you Gorgeous. You'd write back tonight.

-----------------------

Bradley was taking another video and some more photos in the shop with Marty for your class when one of the admirals stopped by. He jumped to attention and addressed him. "Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, you haven't put in for a phone call. Would you like to?"

Bradley just blinked at him for a few seconds. "I don't really have anyone to call, Sir." But that wasn't completely true. He'd never actually asked you about it, but he wouldn't mind calling your number. Which he didn't even have.

The admiral nodded and said, "Just giving first dibs to my high rankers who haven't made a call home yet. Otherwise you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

As soon as he started to walk away, Bradley found himself following along. "Actually, Sir, I may have changed my mind."

If he was already thinking about Thai food and a picnic on the beach for a first date, he might as well just ask you for your number now. As long as you didn't tell him his age was an issue. As long as you seemed keen on the idea of him calling. So he put his name down on the list, and then he started to sweat. He finished up with Marty, and he headed for the lounge.

When he logged in, he braced himself for another note from Vanessa like he always did now, but the only new item he saw was from you. He decided right then that if the vibes still felt right, he'd ask for permission to call you. And yeah, the vibes were feeling pretty fucking good. 

As soon as he opened the email, the attached photo at the bottom pulled his gaze in like a beacon. You were in bed, mostly under the covers, and the thin straps of some sort of tank top were the only thing preventing him from having a completely unobstructed view of both of your shoulders. Your skin looked impossibly soft, too perfect for him to touch with his rough hands, and your expression was playful and maybe a little nervous. He could see the soft swell of your breasts before the blankets enveloped your body in the most comfortable looking cocoon. He wanted to join you there in the worst way, and keep you warm enough that you wouldn't even need that blanket.

His heart was pounding as he started to read your note.

Bradley,

You know, it's funny you should mention that, because my currently inactive dating app profile says I'm interested in men who are between 30 and 40 years old. So you sound kind of perfect to me. And not that you asked or anything, but I turned 30 earlier this year. I hope that's within the age range of women that you let email you regularly.

I'm writing this from my bed. I have attached a photo. I'm not wearing any makeup, and I'm all snuggled in for the night, and of course I'm thinking about you. Whether it's a good idea or not, I find myself frequently thinking about you.

Your favorite pen pal

He scrolled back to the photo and sighed. Oh, he knew it was a good idea. Maybe you just needed a little bit more convincing, but it was definitely a great idea. That first date was looking better and better in his mind. He wished he could give you an estimate on when he'd be home so the two of you could start planning it. Bradley's stomach was growling for dinner as he pried his eyes away from your photo long enough to type out a message.

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

And now, once again, he would wait for you to respond, hoping his luck wasn't about to run out.

------------------------

A phone call! She him your number immediately, Gorgeous! There are some things you need to hear him say in that raspy, sexy voice! Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie x latebloomer, virgin reader (so not self-projecting...) who isn't innocent or typically what people say is "virginal" (because virginity is a construct!) but still gets super nervous about heavy petting/sex because they've never done it before and don't want to be bad or weird and literally just flees at the confrontation

until that ovulation hits and r! is trying so hard to ignore it, squirming on Eddie's couch/bed and he's like 🤨 you ok? and then it just comes out in a whole word vomit that he's super hot and they're absolutely soaked but don't know what to do and it probably won't be good and they should just go home and eddies like... no big deal, I'll just eat you out, no penetration 🤷🏻

and when they do actually have sex later, I know Eddie talks R through it

ty for suggesting this anon! u got me inspired here's a lil blurb. also dedicated to @wdsara48 who asked for more inexperienced!reader content 🫡

cw: +18 mdni, Eddie’s a bit clueless about the hormone cycle, oral (r receiving), cumming in pants (guess who), ovulation horny (™)

____________

On second thought, it was probably a really bad call to visit your boyfriend when you were this horny.

Which sounds silly, you know it does- who wouldn't want to visit their hot boyfriend at a time like this?- but you've really been enjoying taking it slow this time around. Eddie is the first boy you've dated who has totally and completely earned your trust when it comes to sex- he's never once pressured you to take your heated make-out sessions any further, pulling back and unwinding himself from you with spit-slick lips every so often to gauge your comfort level.

Is this okay? How are you feeling? Wanna take a break?

So kind. So considerate. So far away, in the kitchen, humming to himself while he fixes dinner, hair loose and curling around the shoulders of his tight Metallica tee. Every time he reaches over to stir the pot of chili on the stove, the lean muscles in his upper back and biceps curl and flex.

Hormones are flushing hot through your body, the couch you’re seated on feeling more and more confining by the second; you cross your legs at the ankle in an attempt to stave off the fidgeting, but when this causes the thick denim of your zippered jeans to press into the ache between your legs you are quick to uncross them again.

There’s a low-toned buzz that’s taken up residence in your hearing, like all the raging horniness has no place else to go- which is why you don’t hear Eddie the first time he speaks.

He’s standing at the edge of the living room now, hands on hips, one dark brow raised in your direction- “Earth to angel. You with me?”

“Huh?” You swallow harshly against the dryness in your throat (contrasted with the excess wetness in other places) and shake your head, slipping your hands underneath your thighs to sit on them and ground yourself a bit. “Sorry, I was zoning out. What’d you say?”

“I said you seem antsy tonight,” Eddie repeats, moving in to sit next to you, close enough for your knees to touch. “Had too much coffee or somethin’? Y’know, you really shouldn’t drink that stuff after noon. Not good for ya.”

He’s teasing, all smooth movements with an easy grin as he snakes an arm around your shoulders.

The smoke-sweet smell of his cologne floods your senses- musky and heady and this underlayer of something earthy, wild, that you could swear hits on a primal nerve by the way it makes your clit throb.

When you stiffen under Eddie’s arm, he reads your signal as one of discomfort, tsking at himself underneath his breath before starting to pull away. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you-”

“No!” Your hand darts out to grab at his over your shoulder, keeping him from leaving, because if the warmth of his body pressed to your side stops you might actually die. “No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s me. I’m…”

Eddie watches you with mild concern as you flounder, mouth opening and shutting a few times before settling on just the truth- “I’m ovulating.”

He blinks. “Um. Shit. Do you need to go to the doctor? ‘Cuz the main office is definitely closed this time ‘a night but the ER is for sure open-”

You bend at the waist, pitching forward with a groan and cutting him off. With hot cheeks buried in your hands, your voice comes out muffled- “Didn’t you take sex ed, like, three times?”

“Sure did. Learned basic anatomy real well.” His palm has slid to your lower back, your shirt ridden up to expose a stripe of skin that his warm hand now rests on. “Help me out, princess. What’s goin’ on?”

With a pounding heart, you manage to sit up, looking down at your hands in your lap as you whisper, “Ovulation makes me, like, super horny.”

At first, you think he didn’t hear you, but after a beat of silence there’s a subtle shift in his posture, spine straightening.

“Oh.” Eddie’s hand on you doesn’t move but his other one smoothes down the line of his jean-clad thigh, clearing his throat before asking, “And do you wanna… do something about that?”

Mustering courage, you swivel slightly to look at him- the joking tone from earlier has drained out of his voice, and this is the shyest you’ve ever seen him: staring unseeing at his own lap, plucking at the knee of his jeans.

“Like what?” You ask, matching the same low tone he’s just used.

When Eddie looks back at you, that’s when you realize your mistake- his lack of eye contact wasn’t due to shyness. The way he’s looking at you now, dark chocolate eyes holding a steady gaze, it’s a wonder he’s been so restrained this whole time. 

“Could eat you out. Only if you wanted, though.”

You shiver. Visibly. 

A slow, half-tilted smile pulls at Eddie’s lips; he brings your free hand to his face and kisses your knuckles, then tugs you up with him to stand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Cast in soft lamplight, Eddie closes the door to his room before cupping your face in his hands, cool rings against your cheeks. He kisses you gently, at first, plush lips notching in steady rhythm against yours; when you tug him in closer by his waist and slip your tongue between his teeth, he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away, wet click of your separating mouths loud in the quiet of the room before giving your hip a light tap. “Up on the bed, angel.”

You’re quick to comply, crawling backwards on the duvet, lust unfurling in your stomach as you rest half-propped on your elbows.

Eddie divests himself of his shirt in one fluid motion without taking his eyes from you. His pale skin gleams in the low light, silver chain and guitar pick necklace swinging as he moves to hover over you.

“You okay?” He asks, dark hair a curtain around both your faces as his bare torso presses against your clothed one. 

When you nod, he ducks to kiss you again before sliding a hand up your shirt. “Good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You know he’s mostly joking- you and him have a safeword, and he’s always attentive to your body signals- but the pure desire that he’s kissing and touching you with is indicative of a boy who’s waited too long to be able to have you like this.

Eddie laps at your mouth, tongue twining with yours as his hand squeezes and molds the fat of your breast through your bra as both your nipples stiffen in response. When his knee slots between your thighs, you moan, hips jolting up to chase the friction.

“Can I…” you’re panting, forehead crushed to Eddie’s as you search for the words. “I want your mouth, on me- please.”

You’re rarely ever so communicative, usually hidden away behind a wall of reservations that are totally melted away now. Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched, sucks at a spot behind your ear that causes your hips to rock forward again, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart, yeah. You can have my mouth. Fuck.”

While he kisses down the slope of your neck, between your clothed breasts, your bare stomach where your shirt’s been rucked up, he’s muttering (to himself, to you, hard to say): “‘Course you can have my mouth. Have it wherever you want it. Christ. Should’a asked for it sooner. Give you anything you want.”

Eddie pops the button on your jeans and you lift your hips so he can pull them completely off your body; when he sees the wet patch of arousal darkening your baby blue underwear he chokes out another curse before working the fabric down your hips and tossing them to the ground.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asks, stretching his lower half out on the mattress and pulling your legs over his shoulders, his mouth inches from your soaked core. Eddie looks up at you, face bracketed by your thighs, pupils blown out with desire, waiting for your go-ahead.

“Please,” you murmur, stretching out a hand to pet at the crown of his head.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment with your touch; when he presses a kiss to the top of your cunt, your hand tightens in his hair, his resulting hum of encouragement vibrating against your clit.

Eddie flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe up your folds, spreading the wetness from your leaking hole up to mouth sloppily at your clit; when he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your elbow supporting your half-propped frame gives out and you pitch back against the covers.

“There- ah- shit, there, Eddie…” you sound wrecked already, voice husked with the strain of holding back whines. Normally, you’d be so in your head about the exposing condition you’re in, but at this point you’re too wound up to care, Eddie’s tongue against the beating heart of you coaxing that tightness in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

His nails bite in where his hands span the width of your thighs, holding you against his mouth even as your legs tremble and hips twist jerkily with each sweep of his tongue; Eddie gives one last suck to your clit then follows the line of your cunt down, down with his tongue to prod at your sodden entrance.

When his tongue slides into you with a wet squelch, obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, you both moan in tandem- your hand in his hair tightens to near-brutal, and the bed underneath you both tremors with the jolt of Eddie’s hips rutting into the mattress.

He sets a steady pace with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you as his nose nudges against your clit. That coil in your stomach is starting to make all your muscles tense up, your thighs locking Eddie in place (who seems to only be spurred on with each constriction of your body).

“Gonna come?” The lower half of his face is coated in your slick as he takes a brief pause to kiss at your inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on your tummy, pinning you down. “C’mon, baby. Let me see it.”

Your body obeys, tension snapping as his mouth returns to your cunt, a high whine of “Eddie Eddie Eddie” that you don’t bother to hide this time loosening from your throat as everything around you bursts and crashes into orgasm.

Toes curling against Eddie’s lower back, cunt spasming around his tongue, Eddie fucks you through it and then some, his own hips mindlessly grinding down as your release triggers his own, spilling warm into his boxers while your high spirals out.

When the spams of your pleasure turn over into aftershocks, Eddie comes up for air, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt before crawling up your body to lie on top with his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud to the ceiling, breathless, arms automatically encircling the boy. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie’s breath cools over the sticky patch he kissed into your skin, his mouth still wet with your release. He gathers enough energy to plant his elbows on either side of your head, looking down at you, suddenly serious. “So um… how often do you get ovi- ovel… like this? Once a year or somethin’?”

The laugh shakes out of your chest before you can stop it; you reach up to tuck Eddie’s curls behind his ears, your previous bashfulness having been tongue-fucked out of you.

“Eddie Munson, do I have news for you.”

[aninipanin1]

GALA

Notes: Just wanted a little drama with a mix of reader being a silent diva yuhhh, A Noel Noa centric piece hehehe hope yall enjoy! PS: YES, this fic is a bit inspired by Cinderella RAHHH

"Hmm, that dress looks better than the first one. It matches your personality well." Anri said, her eyes looking at your phone screen where the photo of your dress was displayed. You nodded your head, taking into consideration Anri's opinion. You did like that specific dress personally, too, so you were happy that it fit you, at least in Anri's eyes.

"Yeah, I'll just buy this one then. It's actually on sale so I knew I had to get one of these for the Gala. Eepecially since my parents would definitely disown me if I do not wear anything proper, at least by their standards." Sighing, you pressed the order button on the app, shoulders sagging a bit. Your family was invited in a gala held by the company your parents worked in. Due to their high position, your whole family was invited, including your fraternal twin sister.

It's been a while since you met up with your whole family due to the Blue Lock project, but also because you did not have the best relationship with them, especially your parents.

"You know you can always not go, right? Especially since (S/n) is there. Geez, I still wonder why you put up with her. Nobody liked her in our class instead of the boys who just wanted to have a chance with her."

Anri sighed, remembering her college days where she shared a class with your sister. And needless to say, her arrogance in the subject which she almost failed at always pissed her off. It was really surprising as to how someone so...down to earth as you was related to someone like that girl.

You gave her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that. She's just like that because of our parents, I swear. And well, she's still my sister. I can't just abandon her like that, Anri."

The woman sighed and shrugging her shoulders.

"It's your choice, Y/n. But, personally, I would definitely cut her off. She's too toxic, especially for you, since we both know how she treats you even if you're older than her."

The conversation ended there as you both were thrust into silence, eating your food away on the cafeteria for both your breaktime when your phone vibrated. It was a text from your mother.

Mother:

Oh, and bring a date with you. Surely, as my eldest, you have at least a love interest and even better, a boyfriend by now. Make sure he's dressed appropriately, too.

"WHAT?!" You burst out, causing Anri to also spill the water in her mouth in shock of your outburst.

"Geez girl! Warn me next tim-...WHAT?!" She screeched too, as she read the text that you forced on her face.

"The gala is happening next week! How am I going to find a date so soon!? I...I don't even know any guys who can be a date." Sulking, you placed your head hopelessly on the table. Your mother thought wrong about you, just because your sister can pull guys does not mean you had the same charm and ability as well!

"Tell me, Anri-san! How will I charm a guy into at least agreeing to be my date for the night! Hmm, I wanna ask (S/n) so bad how she does it..."

Anri can only sweardrop at your words. Really? After all that you went through, you still think you are not charming enough to make a guy pay attention to you when you literally has world class players on their knees, just waiting for you to pay attention to them?

But then again, the lack of emotional connection you had with your parents as well as the absence of love from them may have messed up your perception of all types of love, even romantic love. And now, that made Anri a little sympathetic about your situation.

"Don't worry! I'm sure you'll find a guy who'd be okay with it soon enough-"

She comforted you until her eyes stopped on a familiar man who also entered the cafeteria, the white hair, and the tall build familliar to everyone in the facility, and probably the world, Noel Noa.

It was, after all, a few minutes after 1 p.m., and many of the staff and coaches took their lunches. Noa was one of the latest to do so since he was trying to come up with a better team to start in the next match of the NEL.

Anri knew that this maybe the only way to get you to solve your problem while also helping the guys to finally get over themselves and confess to you.

'I'm so sorry, Ego-san! But you all are legit slowpokes and I can't see her being stressed about this!'

"Why not ask one of the coaches to be your date?" Anri exclaimed, a little louder to make sure that the coach who was busy picking his food on the machine heard. You did not seem to notice Noa, as you tilted your head at her.

"Eh, I don't wanna disturb them, Anri-san! They're already busy enough around here. And the gal of me to show up with someone so famous like them! Besides, the gala is until 12 midnight, and they have training for the next day-"

"What about us coaches, Ms. Y/n?"

You let out a shocked 'eh,' before turning your head to see the Noel Noa, sitting on the table beside yours and Anri's. He was wearing his usual calm and collected face, but it was evident in his eyes that he was curious as to why you were quite distressed.

"Oh, its nothing, Noa-san...!"

"She needs a date on this gala, and she can't find one. She wanted to know if you guys would be fine with going with her." Anri said, trying her best to hide the mischievous grin on her face, and she succeeded to a degree, but the look on her eyes shout that she was plotting something.

"Eh? Anri-san! You don't have to answer that, Noa-sa-"

"I'm fine with it." He said with a straight face, making the nervous and embarrassed look on your face vanish replaced by one of disbelief and shock.

"Huh?"

"I'm fine with it. Just tell me when and what I should wear." He said, trying his best to remain passive, to keep his composure. Deep inside though, he felt happy. Finally! It was his turn to be with you.

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Thank you so much, Noa-san! I promise I will pay you back for this!!" You exclaimed excitedly, hugging the tall man out of pure glee and emotion, which made him become even more frozen in his place.

Luckily for him, you could not see the redness that starts to form around his neck, a moment of vulnerability and change from his usual no-nonsense personality. But, what he did not remember was Anri was still there, with her having a mischievous smirk as she watched the number 1 striker in the world blow a fuse just because of a hug.

'Oh, the power you have over these football nerds, Y/n...'

"Eh, where are you going, Noa-san?"

Some of the Bastard Munchen players were a little confused to see their master exit his office, but instead of doning his usual track suit that the facility provided, is garbed in a black and gold suit that complimented his features and build.

It was not the first time the striker wore formal attire (being invited into many famous events over the years, and the pictures of him attending are all over the internet) however, it was still a little weird to see him wear a formal attire in a sport setting.

The man's usual cold eyes turned to them, but there was a hidden twinkle in them. An emotion the players cannot decipher, and thankfully, they did not have to do that themselves as he answered their question.

"Y/n's parents have a gala in their workplace where her attendance is a must. And well, she needed a partner to go with her which is where I come in."

He adjusted the sleeve of the suit, not seeing the wide and open mouths of the players. Especially Isagi and Kurona, Yukimiya and Hiori meanwhile, just smirked at the unfolding scenes.

They are definitely telling the other stratums about this in hopes it reaches the other masters. For what? For the drama, of course.

"You? She could have chosen better..." Kaiser rolled his eyes. In his mind, the master was too serious and intimidating to be standing to someone like you, who in his eyes was like a twinkling star, gracung upon everyone with your warm light, yet not enough to blind or outshine them.

And he thinks all these idiotic masters do not deserve a woman like you. Yes, especially the man he wants to go against. After all, why would he wish upon someone who he thinks is not good enough for you? The person that he feels is the closest he got from a parental figure.

Even if the man is almost perfect, it was still a no. He has to be perfect in Michael Kaiser's eyes before he lifts his cold and domineering glare upon them.

But Noa was far from bothered, ignoring the boys' words, and was more focused on fixing his looks. He was not a man who cared about his looks, but he would be meeting your family along with the fact that he had to show the world that he was mlre than worthy being with you (my man forgot hes the number 1 striker in the world)

He looked down at his watch, squinting his eyes a bit to read the time.

8:48 pm

'Hmm, I wonder how she's doing now...'

"Stop moving for God's sake!"

"I'm trying...! But it hurts..." You said with animated tears as you squirmed in your seat while Anri helped you with styling your hair. You both were in Anri's office as she offered to help you style up for the night. Helping you with your more than tangled and messy hair due to the days of not caring for it properly, having to run around the facility to do endless chores, it was even a luxury to put it in a decent updo.

And well, Anri was less than gentle with how she's treating your scalp like it was a barbie doll that had no pain receptors.

"I'm almost done! And...there! What do you think?"

She spun you around the mirror to show you her masterpiece, and you were not going to lie, it was beautiful. Your hair shimmered due to the few products she put in your hair, but the main event was the braids that frame your head, almost like it was its own tiara with a few flower clips on it to make it even more sophisticated yet ethereal. (Decide your own hairstyle around this based off your hairtype:)

Your hair was for once a bit bouncy and not so tangled to the touch that it felt like you were arguing with your own strands, ready to rip it off from your head.

"Wow, from all the pulling you did, it came out really pretty!" You exclaimed excitedly, not believing that the girl in the mirror was you. Anri rolled her eyes at this.

"Told you. Never disturb a magician when she's working her magic. Now let's start with that makeup and change that tracksuit into your dress."

The makeup was really light, just enough to compliment your facial features and make it pop more (because you are lazy when removing makeup and pretty privilege does that to you, reader;), and well, it was not a surprise to see you already yawning at the boring procedure Anri was going through to fix your makeup.

"Geez, have you no like feminine bone to atleast have some sort of...reflex to atleast know the basics of makeup?" She asked jokingly, as she curled your eyelashes only for you to blink your eye uncontrollably.

"Um, I think I do. But its not like I don't wanna put makeup. Its just that, growing up, I was not allowed to." You said which made Anri confused.

"Really? But from what I can see from your sister's social media, she looks to be really good at it, even from her very old posts thatbwould pop up in her timeline."

"Yeah, well she is my family's treasure. She can do whatever she wanted or get what she wished for, I didn't really have any of that luxury growing up. I was the older sister, so of course I have to give up what I want to her if ever she wanted it. And that also included...my freedom to express myself, I guess."

Your voice grow even more quiet as you opened up about your past. It was thr first time ever that you did, atleast to Anri. But, knowing you, she is not surprised. You were always the people pleaser, always so ready to help others even if you cannot anymore. Even if you cannot carry the pressure anymore, you still would if somebody asked you.

Now, it made sense. You act this way because your parents conditioned you to be like that whilst spoiling your younger twin sister. The unfair treatment and lack of freedom you may have experienced molding you into what you are today.

A person who rarely cares about herself has trouble expressing your true self below that kind and caring nature, and does not believe that the people around her can truly love her for who she is.

And that hurted Anri. She loved you. You two have become the bestest of friends, almost sisters ever since this project started, and she hates how lowly you think of yourself, yet look at everyone else, even those who do not deserve it, highly.

You call everyone worthy of care and kindness, yet you were never kind to yourself. And now, she knows the root causes of this.

But, there was hope. There are people everywhere, even just in this facility alone that loves you dearly. The Blue Lockers, who view you like you are their older sister. Heck, even the foreign players like Kaiser and Lorenzo, and the rest started to view you as such too.

Then, of course, there are those you met who love you differently, viewing you in a different light. And Anri hoped that one day, the love of those people will change your mind about this thinking.

'Zwip!'

"There! All done...Oh my!" Anri cheered, her once dim expression brightening once she saw you in the beautiful silvery blue dress that sparkled under the light of the room. You had matching jewellery accompanying it too, but the dress really did make you look like a living princess as it hugged your figure, the skirt billowing to the ground elegantly as if it wanted to match your own elegant movements.

"Huh...it looks really good..."

"Why are you surprised?" Anri said, raising her eyebrow.

"Nothing...just...this is the first time I ever get to pick my own dress. My parents are always the one who buy our dresses for us, and well, I don't exactly get...a flattering one." You said meekly, Anri can only frown at that.

"But your sister's is?"

"I mean...I guess? But she's already pretty and charismatic...she can make an entire room focus only on her!" You happily complimented, just as Anri was about to add into your claim, your phone's alarm rang, telling you that it was already 9:00 pm.

"It's time..." you said nervously, as you put on the pair of clear heels before walking to the door, not forgetting to thank and say goodbye to Anri.

"Your taste in suits is so boring." Chris Prince commented towards Noa, who ignored him, causing the English coach to get pissed off.

"Why are you even wearing that?" Snuffy incquired curiously, rolling his eyes at Lavinho and Prince, who only questioned the man's style, failing to ask important questions. When Noa heard the question, however, he could not help but feel a little proud and smug, the ends of his mouth twitching slightly in a cold and unnoticeable smirk.

"Y/n is going to be participating in a gala tonight, but she needed a date. So, she asked me to be her date and partner for the night."

Crickets.

Well, until the information finally processed in their minds, and needless to say, the three other masters were less than happy.

"WHAT?! You, of all people?!" Lavinho exclaimed as he approached Noa, like he was ready to fight or debate him over the fact that did not deserve to be your date on that said gala.

"My poor Y/n, she doesn't deserve a man like you. I bet she'll be oh so bored in that gala." Prince said, not pretending to hide the fact that he was indeed jealous, as veins portruded in his forehead and neck about the fact that you went with his main rival instead of him.

Meanwhile, Snuffy remained quiet. However the fake smile, dead look in his eyes, and the portruding veins in his neck and clenched fist was enough of a story to tell. He was more than pissed off at what he is hearing.

With the green-face of jealousy leering at the three coaches, Noa knew he had a one up at that time. And needless to say, the faces the others pull made his ego boost up even more.

But, it reached its peak once you entered the cafeteria, all dolled up for the night in your dress. You greeted all of them so sweetly, not even noticing the effect you had on the four professional players. Noa felt proud that he got to be the one who would be with you for the night. That you chose him over the other three (he was just lucky that he was the one in the cafe at the right time, but we don't mention that).

"Umm Good Evening, sorry to interrupt..." You bashfully said noticing that the four masters were talking to each other, thinking that they were discussing something related to the Neo-Egoist League (they weren't).

"It's nothing. Let us get going, Ms. Y/N..." Noa said, dismissing the rest and taking your hand to guide you outside the cafeteria. He did not want you to get distracted by the others, wanting to look at your beauty by himself.

By the time the other three managed to find themselves catching their breaths, you were already waving goodbye as Noa tugged you to the exit of the facility to head to the gala.

"Wha- hey!"

"Tsk, that selfish robot."

Oh...

That's the only word that is repeated in your mind the moment you both arrive in the venue. Now, there were only a few people outside of the venue, and most of them were waiting to sign up to enter.

But, the amounts of stares and whispers that were already felt and heard the moment THE Noel Noa stepped out of the taxi and sweetly helped you out of the car was definitely palpable.

How can you forget that you literally invited the number 1 striker in the world to be your date in a company gala?

You turned so embarrassed and flushed at the attention, not used to it, unlike Noa, who remained as passive and emotionless like he always was, used to the attention someone of his popularity always experienced.

"I'm so sorry for all this trouble, Noa-sa-"

"Why are you apologising, Ms. Y/n?"

You were taken aback at the question, gulping before stating your reasons.

"The attention must be really uncomfortable...and I know you already have a lot on your plate due to your fame and all, and for me to add into it by inviting you here must be making it worse." But he just shrugged, offering his hand for you to take and for him to lead you.

"It's nothing. I agreed to it knowing what the consequences are, so you have nothing to apologize since I made the choice to say yes. Now, shall we get going?"

Blinking at the reason, you gave him a genuine smile before accepting his outstretched hand and headed for you to sign up.

Just as expected, you had the privilege of having a VIP entrance slot along with your plus one, due to your mother and father being one of the top executives of the company. But, as you signed up, a crowd formed around Noa, who looked quite annoyed at the attention he received before he sighed.

Leaning to whisper in your ear, he did not care for the gasps and whispers of a supposed relationship you two may have.

"Go in first without me, I'll deal with the crowd, and I don't want to inconvenience yourself any further. I'll find you inside."

At first, you tried to argue, wanting to help but looking at how he handled himself in front of a crowd compared to how you did, you knew that staying would just make it worse, so you just nodded with an understanding smile and sent him with a cheerful thumbs up before entering the place alone for now.

The venue was beautiful. The ballroom was quite larger than all the previous venues these events were held in. The chandeliers looked magical, mixing in with the gold and cream the whole place was decorated in. Classical music played and echoed through the whole place as well as small chatters from the people already inside. Speaking of the people, there were definitely hundreds of them already inside, some looked to be journalists too, as the camera flashes can be seen here and there.

You felt like a child in the middle of the huge crowd, a bit overwhelmed but at the same time excited. Mainly because of the food that you can already smell being prepared by the chefs and other staff in the venue. You were also quite happy that what you initially thought of being overdressed was proven wrong due to the many bedazzled dresses and suits that grazed the floor, and even better than your measly jewelry, were real minerals like diamonds, emeralds the size of a thumb was around the necks of the women or dangled from their ears.

It was a gala of opulence, a place where the rich people tried to outdo themselves, to compete with their fellow rich friends to become the star of the show.

"Well, well. If it isn't my lovely older sister grazing us with her...presence."

You turned around, already feeling dread at the notion of seeing her again. There she was, her hair in an elegant bun, wearing a bedazzled pink dress that hugged her beautiful features well, elegant black heels, opulent ruby necklace and diamond earrings only befitting someone of her stature.

Your younger twin sister (S/n) was the definition of elegance and power. The dream of every parent, just like yours. The moment she graduated in business school, she immediately entered the same company your parents worked in and rose the ranks quickly, now standing as a president of the company's media branch.

Yes, you had to admit, you were always jealous of her growing up. Being the smarter and prettier twin, since you both were fraternal twins, your features and every characteristic were different. She was always better than you, the bright sunlight to your measly starly twinkle.

But, nevertheless, you tried to be the best big sister that you can. Supporting her even if you felt jealous, and for a while, you two were close when you were kids. But as she grew up, she realized she was the favourite and something changed in her, turning around to try and destroy your life always. Probably because you were older, and she thought that you would inherit everything your parents had if she didn't try to be better and bring you down.

So she simultaneously did that. Better herself and brought you to your lowest. And the sisterly bond vanished.

You loved her, you did. But there was no way you would be fixing a relationship you did not break. You were kind, not a saint.

"Hi (S/n), how are you? It's been so long, huh?"

"I guess it has been. Everything has been better for me. Work has been hard but rewarding, though I doubt I can say the same with your...babysitter duties?" She smirked at first, then sneered at the thought of your job.

She, along with your parents never failed to bring down your role as a manager for a football facility the moment they heard of it. Sure, it got better when Blue Lock TV picked up ratings and was popular all over the world, but you were still viewed lowly. After all, you were not a player or its director or head, just a lowly manager/babysitter of the players, why is that important in their minds? In fact, it brought embarrassment to the family.

You always tried not to let it affect you, but it does hurt to be brought down a peg just because you did what you loved. But, you being you, you just smiled, not wanting an argument to form.

However, as if your day could not have gotten worse, your parents arrived along with a man you recognized for two reasons: he is a popular actor and model in Japan, and he was also dating your sister. You don't know much, but last time you heard from them, he already proposed to her which you were more than happy for her.

Just because you didn't like your family, does not mean you'll be a bitter Betty. No, you would not stoop low like that. Being raised in a toxic environment made you polish and garb a thick skin, after all.

Your mother immediately scrunched her nose at your appearance while your father just looked at you boredly and coldly as he always does.

"Mother, Father-"

"I told you to wear something that would not embarass our family. And what do you do? Wear this childish costume? Preposterous." Your mother sneered, squinting at the cheap fabric. After all, they did not give you any budget to buy a good one and so, you bought one out of your own money.

"This is why you aren't to be trusted with yourself, Y/n. This dress is unfit of someone in the L/n lineage." Your father said with a straight face, shaking his head. Meanwhile, your sister just snickered in the arms of her quiet fiance who did not want to get involved in the family mess.

You just nodded at their supposed advice, too tired of the day to even argue and embarass yourself infront of so many people.

'Tune them out, Y/n...like you always do, remember?'

"And to add to the mess you are, you do not have a partner with you? I specifically told you to bring one. We cannot afford to have our eldest daughter of all people to be gossiped about her future of being barren and alone." Your father continued and your mother seemed to realize the lack of partner beside you, and she became even angrier.

"Wait, I have one tonight, father. He just excused himself-"

"How many years have you used that excuse on us, young lady? Do not lie to us about your imaginary date for the night. You disappoint us with your fashion, we let it slide. But, not showing up with a partner? This is outrageous!"

"Mother, relax. I am sure there is a valid explanation for this. After all, Y/n over here is busy with her career of babysitting to even care about herself. Perhaps that lack of self-care is the reason why men rarely approach her." Your sister comforted your mother who was red in the face. Hearing this, your mother's anger turned into cold rage.

"I suppose. You have disappointed me and your father as usual, Y/n. And you question why me and your father did not pay for your college education in that foolish sports medicinal course? Because of this. You are irresponsible, and you lack anything noteworthy to you. Adding to that, you cannot even do the bare minimum of find a somewhat successful man and give us grandkids that can hopefully not get your genes and provide our family something to be prided by." Your mother sighed, her words breaking your heart. You heard of these words before, but it hurt nonetheless. But as if, the wound was not painful enough, your father decided to rub more salt unto the wounds.

"You are the eldest, Y/n. I already lowered my expectations on you the moment you talked soblate compared to your sister as an infant. Yet, you still wreck my already lowered standards. I gave the expectations of the eldest to your younger sister, who carried them gracefully and smartly, and that load made her better. I thought lowering the load on you would atleast make you a bearable daughter. Starting from now, if you do not have atleast a man to introduce to us of good name, then I would have no choice but to marry you off to the first man that offers to me."

Your eyes widened so big at this, like your worse nightmare was happening. Knowing your parents, they were serious about this. And you didnt want to be shackled in a loveless marriage just to produce kids that you cannot love fully because they were not out of real love. And besides, you were not ready for marriage yet.

"But father-"

"That's final."

"Finally, father. I am so tired of carrying everything in this family. Thank you for putting this...leech to use." Your sister sneered, liking the shock and blurry look in your eyes from unfallen tears. They were like snipers, hitting you in where they knew you were weak quietly. Even literally, as the rest of the gala participants were happily mingling, due to the fact you and your family were in a corner as they told you what they thought of you as privately as one can get in a ballroom.

But as if some sort of deity or god saw your struggle, you were saved by a hand touching yours as well as the silence of the whole ballroom. But the most telling and almost hilarious display of reaction was that of your family.

Your mother's eyes were wide as well as her mouth. Your father tried to maintain his composed expression, but you can see the shock in them, too. But, the most entertaining expression was that of your sister who had the perfect mix of angerr and shock in her face.

But, you wondered, why was everyone wondered. Well, that was until you looked up to find who held your hand, and it was Noel Noa.

The whole episode with your family made you forget the fact that your date for the night was a famed striker all over the world. Everyone knew his name and face, even if they did not know football well.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, but I am afraid she looked to be uncomfortable, so as her date, it is my responsibility to take her away from anything that may inconvenience or irritate her." He said in his usual cold and almost apathetical tone, if it was not for the fact that he held your hand and back quite intimately, a fact you did not notice because you were too tired from the mental beating from your family.

"O-of course...Mr. Noa, there is...no...problem with that." Your mother said, putting up her friendly and professional smile she uses when talking to those she knew was superior to her.

Your father stayed silent, but his usual cold, hard gaze softened. Of course, your parents were social climbers, so seeing a man of Noa's status and fame definitely humbled them.

Before anything, Noa guided you into the garden of the place and sat you down on the edge of the fountain.

"Sorry about the drama...Noa-san."

"Again, you don't have to apologise. You have to stop apologising for things out of your control and are not your fault." He said sighing, watching the beautiful colors of the water's reflection. You followed his gaze, as the water showed your face.

The face thay you hated all your life. Recognizing how it was not as pretty as your sister's face. That your sister seemed to have inherited the good traits of your parents while you get their least attractive ones (atleast in your parents' opinions and words), how you wished your eyes were the same shape as your sister's, or the way your nose looked, or even the size of your face. Everything.

You thought you moved on from the self-incarceration. But, the words they said to you made you revive the heartbreak you felt growing up as an insecured teen, a feeling that your parents and sister fueled even more, making you struggle with even the thought that you were deserving of attention and love growing up.

Then a drop fell unto the water's surface, then two, then three, until you were softly sobbing and hiccuping under the moonlit sky and the drowning sounds of the fountain.

Until you felt a soft yet calloused hand wipe a stray tear from your face. Realising that you were crying in front of Noa, you tried to turn your face away and hide it.

But, his reflex and pull were stronger and made you stay facing him. Pulling out a handkerchief, he softly wiped away all the stray tears that fell on your face as he finally spoke.

"You're an angel for the amount of patience you have with your family. I arrived there a few seconds before I stepped in, and from what I heard, I can just imagine what they have been telling you before I arrived. Or even way before that."

"Yeah...I'm used to it. But, that doesn't mean it hurted less, you know? It felt like...all the years of emotional and mental solitude and abuse came back. It played like a movie..."

He stayed quiet for a few seconds, just nodding his head at that. Truthfully, he was given a heads up about your family by Anri, and he was so thankful that she did. He thought it could not be that bad until he heard the hurtful words they told you as well as the preposition of them marrying you off to some guy that asked them first.

Like you were worth nothing.

Which just does not make sense to him. You deserved a man who would be willing to go through hell and back just for your hand in marriage, not some random man who just had to ask and would already get to be the one to see you in a white dress and veil.

But, that night, was definitely the night he knew that his feelings for you was more than attraction now. The first moment he saw your beauty and intelligence in the field, he knew he was interested in you.

But now that he got a deeper look into who you really were as a person, that you were kind, patient, and coolheaded enough to not burst in flames in front of your parents made him love and admire you for your strength even more.

He was a man who thought the saying "Kindness is strength," was foolish. Absolutely unethical. Sure, revenge is not always the best course of action, but getting back at the person can sometimes scare them off from doing the bad things they do again and again, so it is logical to a tee.

But, you gave him a new perspective. That maybe being the bigger person at times of extreme mistreatment leads to the more logical outcome. After all, it was not really you who embarassed themselves in front of the world's best striker that night, right?

By the time you managed to fix yourself and go back to the gala, the small program started. It was not that long, but as you sat beside him in the table where your family was assigned in, you both definitely noticed the new personality your parents immediately had.

Your mother approached him with a smile, sometimes lightly scolding you to fix your posture or your smile, but she was less brutal and she even used the loving mother tone she uses to your sister only.

Your father, on the other hand, was more discreet with his agenda. Asking him questions about himself and his relationship with you.

The two of them saw this as the first time you were being a good daughter. To be able to attract a man of his fame and status was a win in their eyes. They loved the attention that Noa brought to their table, the eyes of everyone, even the ones from the CEO's family was on Noa's.

You tried your best to tell your parents you both were not together, that he was just kind enough to be with you for the night. But, they did not relent. They want you to end up with him not because they want you to be happy, but because they just want the attention and power that having their daughter be the one Noa was dating.

But other than you both, your sister also noticed the attention on you and him and that pissed her off. Not used to not having the attention on her, she was muttering curses under her breath. Wondering how her ugly and incompetent elder sister attracted the number 1 striker in the world. Truthfully, she did not even love her fiance, wanting only his wealth and fame. So she thought that all the people's attention would only be at her's, but then her sister had to ruin it. Bringing a man who is known not just in the country, but in the whole world.

'She doesn't deserve him!' That was all that ran in her brain, to the point she even started to ignore her own fiance, in hopes that maybe, if she tried to act impressive enough, she would get the striker's attention away from you to paying attention to her instead.

'She did say they were just friends, and she doesn't look like she likes him like that. So, it'll be easy.'

Well, it was more of a struggle than she thought when the whole night Noa stuck to your side. With your sister's eyes being more susceptive to romance than yours, she can see the look in the striker's eyes when he looks at you or would do anything for you like getting your food for you, or even kneeling on the ground just to fix the ribbon that tied around your heels.

It was a one-sided love, where you were oblivious. A displacement that was disadvantageous to what she wanted to do.

As the night passed, you both were lucky enough not to be bothered too much, even if almost everyone at the party had some hidden agenda in getting close with him for business of sorts, it was definitely a fun time compared to the other times you attended their company's gala.

When you arrived back in the facility, before Noa can walk you to your room, Anri was already there and dragged you to her own room and helped you get out of your hair, make up and dress while urging you to tell her the juicy details of the night.

"It was a little embarrassing how much my parents wanted me to end up with him, probably just to widen their power of some sorts. And I felt so bad for Noa-san having to deal with (S/n) trying to flirt with him. Hmm, what do you think I should gift him for all his help tonight, Anri-san?"

Anri gave you some ideas while deep down, she laughed evilly at the reactions of your family, especially that of your sister. Of course, that was the reason she set you and Noa up for this as well, for you to unintentionally flex that your job was not for the faint, and that you were not the ugly sheep of the family.

'If only her sister knows it isn't just the number 1 striker after her at all. Ooh the drama that would be bring!'

No additional times for this one I'm afraid because this fic became TOO LONG THAN I EXPECTED LMAO. I don't even like Noel Noa that much yet this happened...I cooked too much I'm afraid chat. But anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this and yes I AM FEELING A LOT BETTER. This is also a bit of a character explanation for why I made Adult!Manager the way she is (like how she acts and all) so yeahhh, to all who relates to this YOU ARE ENOUGH AND LOVEABLE Dont let anyone tell you otherwise, mwah!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[russellsppttemplates]

helloooo! i have an idea for an imagine

what if charles & y/n where childhood friends and they always pretended to be married as kids (yk those games 😭😂) and then in the future they DO get married and one of their family members brings it up at the wedding and it's very funny but cute!

cw: mentions Charles' father

"We actually have a surprise for you", you mother said as she and Pascale looked at eachother before the guy in charge of the projector on the wall started playing a video. It was old, slightly grainy and you were not sure of what it was until it showed you and Charles.

"Why do we have to film it again, Y/N?", you heard your mother's voice as she focused the camera on you. You were wearing a pink dress and had some flowers on your hand, "Because me and Charles need to have this recorded for when we are older!", you smiled, "and what are you doing?", Charles' father's voice was heard, "we're getting married! Because Pascale and Hervé love eachother and they got married, mama and papa got married because they love eachother, so we are getting married, too!", you beamed.

Charles stood in the middle of the living room, Lorenzo taking the spot on his side as you walked closer to Charles. While Lorenzo was older than both of you, he went along, saying something about true love and how you were meant to be together. "Charles, do you have any vows?", he asked. "What are vows?", he asked, "it's like a promise you make to Y/N", he whispered back.

"Y/N", he began said confidently, "I promise to always love you, to show you all the beautiful things in life and to never leave you. Oh, and also to always share my food with you", he smiled.

"Charles", you followed, "I want you to know that you're the boy I love mostest in the world, and I'll always be by your side no matter what", you smiled, holding your hands in his.

"You can now kiss the bride!", Lorenzo announced as a shy six year old Charles kissed your cheeky sweetly before you hugged him, both of you smiling to the camera, "we're married!", Charles yelled, "Oh, we need to tell Pierre!", you chirped in.

"Oh my goodness!", Charles laughed while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes, joining your guests as they commented how sweet it all was.

"I love how, as soon as we got married, you just wanted to tell Pierre", Francisca pointed out, napkin in her hand as she carefully wiped around your eyes, not wanting to ruin her makeup, "he was Charles' best friend and he wasn't there, I think I was being very considerate of him, actually", you stated, "and I was still a little bit jealous that Charles had another best friend at this age, probably just wanted to flash him that I loved Charles the mostest".

"Well, they were good promises, and I intend to keep those, too", Charles said, holding your hand in his once again, kissing your knuckles.

"We don't have it in recording, but Charles made my late husband, who I know would love to be here and knew this day would happen, get them a chocolate cake so they could have a honeymoon! Don't worry, it was an age appropriate trip to the slides at the park!", Pascale chuckled. Pierre saw an opportunity and he took it, "hopefully your honeymoon this time around also has very exciting slides and other fun things!", he toasted, sipping from his drink as you hid your blushed face in your husband's neck.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[homosexualgirlandbags]

Simon, who keeps a stack of Polaroid pictures of his body in a locked drawer. The photos aren't a pretty sight, seeing how it was taken while he was in the holds of narcos, endless scars covering his body.

Jagged pink lines overlapping with each other along with the countless amount of bruises turning black. In one of the pictures, Simon's face was swollen beyond recognition, his body bloodied with several teeth clearly on the ground behind him. The gleaming face of his captors briefly shows in the background, gun to his head as their other hand dangles the ghost mask.

He doesn't like looking at them, but still keeps the pictures as a reminder, because no matter how bad it gets, he's still safe and sound now, in the comfort of his apartment, with people he trusts, people like Price, a strong steady guide in his life.

He hides the pictures too, only occasionally taking it out for the few people whom he trusts fully. (Price and Laswell mostly. The two of them are almost always immediately concerned whenever a drunk and brooding Simon pulls pictures out of the cabinet and then proceeds to laugh about them, cracking jokes after jokes that end him up in his therapist office.)

And then Johnny.

How mocking it was of the gods to send someone like Johnny down to earth, and have a man as perfect as him willingly seek him out? Not that he was complaining, but he's pretty sure an angel like Johnny would surely run away from a sight like him, no? Can't he see the endless amount of scars on his body? The broken man that Simon really is? How tiring would it be to love someone like him?

(a creeping thought begins to blossom in his mind, how he was a ugly and worthless man, incapable of being loved, and loving another back. Not in this line of job, and probably never in the past, present or future)

He throws the Polaroids on Johnny's desk one afternoon, sitting across from the man as a gruff command to review them leaves his lips.

He watches as Johnny's brows furrowed further, taking in each photo in consideration. Simon observed how...adorable Johnny looked while concentrating, how his face twisted up into confusion at the graphic pictures.

"Ah'm... Yer' gonna do t'is to'me?"

The question leaves his lips in almost childlike curiosity and horror. Simon sees the way Johnny holds up one of the pictures, eyes darting between it and Simon's biceps, comparing both.

Simon didn't have time to react when Johnny immediately grabbed his arm after, brows furrowed even further as he ran his eyes over the jagged lines, observing how some of them never healed fully in the first place. Up this close, Simon could almost see how Johnny's lips jutted out in slight horror, the wheels spinning in his mind as it clicks for him.

The man in the pictures was none other than his lieutenant.

He drops silent afterwards, before gathering the pictures and handing them back to Simon, leaving his office soon after.

Simon looked on in quiet amusement and slight hurt from how Johnny had just walked out. But he supposed he did expect that reaction from anyone with a sane mind. (He acknowledges he's broken, yet won't say he's self destructive. Delusional ass)

A week later, he finds a gift basket full of healing creams and soothing lotion on his desk, meant to help with bruises and scars. Sloppy (but recognizable) handwriting stuck on a post it notes on one of the bottles, obviously hurriedly scribbled on.

'I'll help you with your scars if you are willing to trust me - 🧼'

Simon takes a moment to consider himself, before resigning to the fact that Johnny would probably stick by him for the rest of his life. He also makes a mental note to visit Johnny later, when the base is asleep.

[soaps-mohawk]

So...

I've been doing some thinking about a couple of things.

This blog has grown considerably, even from its start and I appreciate each and every one of you so much. Your support never ceases to amaze me and I owe all of you a lot for giving me something to focus on this year instead of spiraling into insanity.

But

Things have gotten a tad bit overwhelming recently between trying to run the blog and trying to write. I find myself either having to ignore the blog to get writing done, or sacrifice writing time and energy to spend time on the blog and keep up with all the replies/reblogs/asks etc. Definitely not complaining, you all never cease to amaze me.

But, I am just one person and my brain only has so much power right now. So, I'm planning to take some (more) time off each week right now while I focus on writing and planning since we're getting into some serious plot stuff soon. So I'm planning to be on the blog three days a week for a while: Saturday, Sunday, and Thursday. That gives me some time to get some writing done as well as some time to rest my brain.

Saturday and Sunday of course to post the chapter and respond to replies and reblogs so I don't get super behind. Monday I'll have some asks queued up as well as maybe a few reblogs. I'll still use the queue Tuesday and Wednesday for reblogs/asks with spoilers as usual. Thursday I'll be on the blog answering asks from Monday - Wednesday as well as things I get that day. I'll queue up a few things for Friday since that day gives me a little break between to prepare for the weekend and posting the chapter.

I'll probably add more days as time goes on. You can still send in asks on the days I'm gone, but just know I won't see them or respond to them until later in the week. I already get behind by a couple days on asks anyway so that's not much of a change.

Don't feel bad for sending them either, I love getting all these asks, I just tend to get behind on days I spend more time writing.

The second order of business

has to do with my taglist. Most of you probably haven't noticed (which I don't blame you lol) but my taglist has gotten very big. Very, very big. It's just over 230 people right now, and I'm sure there will be others asking to join. It's quite time consuming to do all of these tags for every chapter (especially since we can't tag in blocks anymore) so I've been doing some thinking into how I can make it easier for me, and for you.

I know there's at least one blog I've heard of, though I'm sure there's more, that have made side blogs that they have people follow and turn on notifications for and just make a post on that blog when they post a chapter or fic, etc. I've been considering doing that since the taglist is a lot of work and time.

I've also seen blogs that have side blogs that just post chapters/fics and nothing else. I know quite a few of you only follow for the fic, so if anyone is interested, I could put together a side blog like that as well that you can follow and get notifications from instead of having to follow this blog and having to go through the probably 100 posts that I make a day 😂 (at least it feels that way for me)

Having a separate blog for the taglist too would allow me to schedule posts so I can have them come out a bit earlier than I get up for those of you across the world who stay up to read and have to wait for me to post in the morning when I get up (or later like today because I slept in). Of course Ao3 will get posted later because I can't schedule posts there, but at least for Tumblr I can have things post earlier.

So let me know what you think about the taglist side blog and the possible just chapters/fics side blog. Feel free to send in asks (anonymously or not) with your opinion. I might not answer them all (not tonight because my brain is fried and honestly i'm not sure if this is even comprehensible English) but I will at least use them to make the decision (or make a post with all of them and answer it as just one).

[thecoffeelorian]

Anomaly (Jod Na X Reader)

A/N: I typed this out in the span of a morning on my phone, and then worked my way up from there. Anyways, to business...

Title: Anomaly

Chapter Title: The Stowaway

Genre: Drama/Romance

Word Count: 1,077 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: I have zero idea if Jod is going to be either the pirate I think he is or the ex-Jedi that others believe him to be...however, if none of these turn out to be true, then I'll just mark this as an AU and keep on trucking along. 'Nuff said!

No Pressure Tags: @ladysongmaster @braveincafleet @ireadwithmyears and anyone else who might want to catch the first-ever Jod Na x Reader story in this fandom! Thank you for your consideration!

ANOMALY

This doesn’t feel like the Great Work to me, you think to yourself, glancing around in silence as the Reclamation Committee gathers at At Attin’s first, and probably last, official spaceport. Originally, you would be deep into your latest pile of holo-work in the Undersecretary’s office, a half-drank cup of caf on your right and the few images of your surviving relatives sitting still upon your left.

Thanks to the curiosity of a handful of local children, however…everyone’s daily routine, yours included, has since been upended be it for better or for worse. In fact, the tension’s visible on everyone’s face as they await the incoming ship, and most likely for good reason—the ones said to be on board, at least in theory, are going to have a lot of explaining to do.

As for you, you’ve got both eyes upon your datapad screen like the good little Intern you are, making as many mental notes as possible while you wait. So far, according to the reports—or, at least, the official documents that you had been granted access to—all four of the missing children had been found safe; they had then been directed onto a secure flight back home; and, once the growing blur of that same flight could be seen from the platform and the volume of all human conversation around you grew alongside it, they would certainly be participating in a very long debriefing once those docking bay doors finally opened.

And yet...everything that you hadn’t been informed about becomes, as soon as the one known as Neel is the first to step off, pretty sparkling clear once the security droids all aim their weapons at the back of the ship.

“No, wait! Don’t hurt him, he’s a friend!”

To your surprise, if not also the surprise of everyone else around you, there was a fifth person on board. This person must have been halfway decent enough to keep this little group under their watchful eye, for the remaining kids still on the ship—Fern, Wim, and KB respectively—all add their voices to Neel’s protest as they’re coaxed onto the platform, Wim going so far as to try and pull the blaster out of a droid’s hands before a short pop of static electricity teaches him differently.

And, once those same droids give the order for them to come out with their hands up…your first sight of that fifth person all but takes your breath away.

Oh. Dear. Me.

Yes, there’s a man hiding back there, not some Wookiee in a fit of rage…but he’s not just any man as the ones among you already have been. No, this one has the equal look of both predator and prey written into his body language, for the look he gives the security team is nearly an even mix of one about to shoot down several live targets and one about to run for cover, almost like he's known both such situations in the course of his life...but isn't about to breathe a word of it.

To your growing sense of alarm, he’s also far too damned attractive for his own good, let alone yours. Sure, there are the signs of middle age upon him, why would there not be—and yet, other than the visible age lines upon his face, the stiffness in his steps, and the traces of silver within his hair, you just couldn’t stop yourself from running a visual scan of everything else he’d brought down to the surface. Things like...the hard set of his shoulders, the sharp outline of his jaw, and—worst of all—those startling blue eyes that you swore saw everything ahead, behind, and every other direction around him in a matter of seconds. Eyes that could see right through you if you’re foolish enough to let them, though you can only hope you never fall for any piece of this stranger’s charm, direct or otherwise.

And if that alone hadn’t somehow warned you in advance not to look too long, not to examine him too closely, and above all else, not to allow yourself to care too much about what might happen to this mysterious stranger…the reaction of the head droid would finally drive it all home.

”Jod Na Nawood, also known as ‘Crimson Jack’, also known as 'Captain Silvo', in the name of the Republic, you are hereby under arrest…”

Crimson Jack…? Captain Silvo? Him?! That one was the 'Thief Of A Thousand Treasures'?

You’d heard of a few stories about that scary figure, but that was all they were supposed to be. Stories. Legends. Tales one told to their children in order to get them to behave at the dinner table, and not real people of flesh, blood, and bone, because there were supposed to be no such thing.

Especially not away from the pages of a holobook, let alone outside of any datapad video feeds.

And yet…as this infamous Crimson Jack finally allowed the binders to be snapped around his wrists, one sad look sent towards the children before being taken into custody, it was here that you had to start asking yourself whether or not some of these stories were, in truth, full of facts as solid as durasteel—and if so, whether this stranger was truly as dangerous as the stories whispered in the dark made him out to be.

It would also be about a few seconds later that those startling blue eyes would just happen to meet yours, an even stranger feeling of both warmth and cool air pass between you like the rush of a long-dormant hyperdrive slowly working itself back up to full power and, finally, a phantom set of words echoing within your mind just as surely as if he had spoken them aloud.

I see you.

Several minutes would pass by until you snapped yourself out of your stunned silence and came back to reality, a few familiar faces around you making sure you were all right, that no tricks or funny business or strange arcane rituals had taken your mind over where you stood—and yet, for all of that, there was only one thought left in you, only one question that made sense—and so, even though this man was no longer in your sight, still you asked it out loud for everyone else to hear.

“And if I were to get inside your head, Mister ‘Crimson Jack’...what would I see?”

[r-i-03-17]

So idk if the #HiccstridhadZephyrearlyAU (basically Hiccstrid havebZephyr during the events of RTTE) is even still a thing anymore but I wanted to make a contribution to it. Hope you enjoy.

Living on the edge was difficult, you didn't have any immediate support from anyone other than the people there with you, and a pretty good distance from........well anywhere. But it was ok, the riders and dragons made it work with what they had, and it was pretty peaceful, until it wasn't, until Astrid dropped a (metaphorical) bomb on Hiccup "I'm pregnant".

The next 7 and a half months was interesting, everyone worked to try and baby proof the Edge, while also trying to keep Viggo and Ryker at bay. Fishlegs was busy building baby things, cradle, toys, etc. Heather was tasked with helping Astrid with whatever she needed, even though Astrid said she didn't need any help she definitely appreciated it, especially when her stomach got so big she couldn't see her feet when she was going down the stairs. Snotlout was tasked with building railings around the various decks and ledges around the edge for when the baby started walking so it wouldn't just fall off the cliff, as well as making gates in front of all of the stairs, just a little extra touch. Hiccup was busy patrolling with the twins making sure everything was secure and safe, as well as checking on Astrid every chance he was able to. As for the twins, Tuff helped wherever it was needed, either helping Fishlegs build the baby things, or Snotlout build the railings, or helping Heather if it was needed. But the one who REALLY stepped up was Ruffnut. Hiccup was the first to notice, Ruff suddenly offering to do things she wouldn't normally do with no prompting, and was willing to drop whatever she was doing whenever Hiccup or Astrid called to her, including the ladder she was supposed to be holding for Snotlout, which he then fell off of.

Astrid started to notice soon after Hiccup did, Ruffnut's personality switch, and soon after so did the rest of the riders. It wasn't so much that she'd taken on more responsibility, they all had, but it was more the fact that she started taking everything more seriously than she normally would. Fishlegs was still acting like his normal self, considerate and gentle. Snotlout was still his normal self telling Astrid to shut up when she made a joke at his expense, but also telling her to be careful not to trip on the boards he has laying on the ground for the railings. Tuffnut was still cracking jokes and goofing around while he was helping with everything, but Ruffnut wasn't joking around or making quips as often, she still did it, but not as much as she normally would. If Astrid or Hiccup asked her to help them or someone else with something, she'd give a quick nod, or ask for clarification, then just go do what they asked, it was a little weird at first, but it made the parents to be all the more grateful that they had this big extended family that cared about their kid just as much as they did, Astrid even tiered up a bit, probably just because of the hormones but still. But it wasn't until one night that showed how much Ruffnut had really stepped up.

That's what I have so far, I'll make a second part I promise but I want to know how you guys like this. Don't forget to repost and comment, see if we can get the #HiccstridhadZephyrearleyAU going again.

[positivelybeastly]

Would love your thoughts on Hank's sense of style and what the big blue furball might do to spice up his wardrobe. Understandably, his size and the fur can make insulation and fitting a drag.

With he and Emma being friends in some iterations, I also wonder what he might look like in a Hellfire Gala outfit? Maybe a deep open-v suit?

With him being so theatrical and charming you can't help but wonder what it'd be like if he let himself dress up (or down, if he wants to be comfy)

"I believe it was Harry Winston, a luxury jeweller, who said that, 'people will stare. Make it worth their while.' You can understand why such a sentiment rings true for me.

I wouldn't say that I'm vain, but I do take a good amount of care in my appearance - how you dress, how you comport yourself, how you present, it all adds up to the impression you make and the way you live on in people's heads. Fashion and style are, naturally, an important part of that."

So, Hank is one of those characters for whom dress is an important facet of their personality and their presentation - in some ways, just as important as it is for, say, Emma Frost, Sebastian Shaw, Monet St. Croix, Janet van Dyne, Warren Worthington; it's a very particular kind of character that obsesses over these minute details, but Hank is unique among them because fashion feels as though it was, in some respects, something he had to start paying attention to, rather than being an indulgence born of wealth or an expectation that came about as a result of social class.

Hank, being a farmboy who grew up in Illinois, did not originally have the same expectation of standards for dress as, say, Emma or Warren. So, naturally, you see a fair amount of variation of casual clothing when he's younger. Black turtlenecks, shirts, and, especially when he became more athletically inclined, jerseys and the like.

It's an underrated aspect of Hank's character, but he's very much a social chameleon. In Defenders #116, he has this monologue:

"I developed an interesting skill. I learned how to recreate myself - how to construct new personalities to win people over, and protect me from them at the same time. In my X-Men days, it was the 'intellectual' game. That was the Hank McCoy you first met - the guy who hid behind a smokescreen of big words and big ideas.

But inside I was the same scared kid I always was. I thought I was beginning to find myself when I left Professor Xavier's school, and went out on my own - but then I accidentally turned myself into this overgrown Muppet, and it was back to square one! My whole world fell apart!

To keep myself together, I put on a new mask. No more stuffy, brainy Henry McCoy. Now I was Happy-Go-Lucky Hank, the man of a thousand jokes! I'll tell you, sometimes I don't know who I am!"

Naturally, this all goes part and parcel with his dress sense, and you see it again when he joins the X-Men - not only does he conform to the Professor's ideas of what was best to wear, usually a smart suit (which was the general expectation for a lot of young men in the 60s, and it's sort of 'artifacted' over even though he logically can't have been born in that decade anymore), but he also tends not to show much variation in his costumes, either.

And a general consideration that you always have to bear in mind with Hank, in ANY form, is that shoes are pretty much always painful. He finds any excuse to take them off, and when he does wear them, unless there's a requirement for them to be of a certain style, he usually opts for something like a sandal. This naturally impacts his stylistic choices to a degree.

But, even still, he's dressing fairly normally for the moment. One has to imagine his clothes are, if not tailored, then probably being bought from a specialist store designed for men with larger builds, which probably contributes to why he's not sticking out very much when it comes to his sartorial decisions - but, realistically speaking, it's a conscious choice: he's trying to blend in.

"Fashion is the armour to survive the reality of everyday life," said Bill Cunningham - well, I think that's certainly true for Hank in this stage of his life. But, naturally, things are going to change for Hank, and I've always found it significant that he initially tries to continue presenting as he has before, with a mix of make-up, binders and encompassing suits, to maintain a through-line of normality.

"I'm a man again!" Literally one of the single most trans coded characters in all of fiction if you bother to examine him closely enough, but, whatever, we're here to talk about fashion.

Now, eventually, he realises that he can't do this for the rest of his life - he has to come out of his shell and embrace who he is.

So, now we come to one of the first decisions of self-presentation that Hank has, largely, had to make for himself. Explicitly, this is his choice of how to be viewed . . . and it is brazen. He isn't wearing a costume, really, he isn't wearing a helmet or a mask, he is almost buck naked! He's cast off the armour, and embraced who he is.

Now, he's gonna go back and forth on this, he's gonna have his up days and his down days, but it's still an important part of his character in this form - think about what it says, to have made this mistake that's going to define you for the rest of your life, and then to wear it on your sleeve.

Think about what it says, that Hank turned blue and furry and bestial, and he said, fuck it, I'm going to show the world what and who I am. Honestly, it's a powerful statement! Lauren Hutton once said, "Fashion is what you're offered four times a year by designers. And style is what you choose." Well, Hank is choosing this!

But, there's two other factors to consider.

One! Hank is on a team with a noted fashion designer, Janet van Dyne, who has all kinds of experience with fabrics and fashions and designs that have to fit on unconventional body types (for those who don't know the name, she's the Wasp, and her partner was Ant-Man/Giant-Man), so I've always been of the belief that almost all of Hank's clothes from this point on are van Dyne originals, either given to him or bought using his Avengers wages, unless they seem like they wouldn't fit Janet's styles.

Two! Hank is a sexual being now.

This man is roughly 21 years old. He's a superhero. He lives life on the edge. Every day could be his last. He has disposable income, a muscular body, wit, charm, and boundless intelligence.

Which means he's gonna fuck. And let's be real here, the man can get away with wearing nothing, he's doing it most of the time, but people appreciate it when you put a little effort into what you wear. It shows that you care. So, now we start to see Hank indulging in fashion.

This is one of my favourite outfits for Hank, because it is so painfully 1970s, and yet. Iris Apfel once said, "Fashion you can buy, but style you possess. The key to style is learning who you are, which takes years. There's no how-to road map to style. It's about self expression and, above all, attitude."

Hank possesses self expression and attitude in spades. The clothes do not wear him, he wears them. If you aren't aware of Derek Guy, writer of Die, Workwear! then you should do a dive into some of his writing, but here's a Twitter thread talking about some peak 1970s tailoring, and if you look at it, it's clear that Hank is cutting edge.

This is not a fashion disaster. This is chic. This is a man who exudes confidence, who knows that bright colours suit a man with an uncommon complexion, who knows that a suit and tie aren't quite appropriate for clubbing in the '70s, so he's opted for something open, something daring, something loud, something that suits him.

This outfit from the same issue is the same - I'm awfully sad we don't get to see more of it. The purple shirt is such a nice touch, and yellow is a hard colour to pull off in real life, but Hank makes it work for him.

Classic panel, classic look! Because here's the thing - if you take a moment to really look at Hank and Simon here, if you can see past the colours that the 1970s allowed men to wear without being considered garish, again, this is a well tailored suit, with a shirt that speaks to confidence and self-assuredness, to individuality. Again, he's not wearing clothes that cover up who he is, he's matching his skin tone and pitching his clothing to match.

You need to know what colours complement you, and bright colours, especially yellow, have always suited Hank.

But! He also knows that different social occasions call for different things. After all, Oscar de la Renta once said, "Being well dressed hasn't much to do with having good clothes. It’s a question of good balance and good common sense." Meaning that you can't always be sporting bright colours, sometimes you have to dress a bit more modestly - but there's a difference between modest, and boring.

This is a lovely outfit for Hank - a bit later now, this is mid-1980s, and you would think that this is dressing down a bit so that he can give a lecture, but, befitting the tone of his address and his personality, his outfit is formal, yet still spirited! Slate grey complements his fur colour nicely, but there are a lot of fun touches to elevate what could be a boring outfit, such as the bright blue cummerbund and bowtie (which is a touch oversized), and the white piping along his pants.

The powder blue accentuates his natural colour while working in tandem with the shirt and suit - there is no clash here, apart from the bright yellow button, but, given that he's wearing a Church of the SubGenius badge here, a parody religion that used the tactic of culture jamming to promote an avoidance in mainstream commercialism and the belief in absolute truths, that's probably intentional! He wants you to notice it! Command of colour balance! It's important!

It's also interesting to compare it to two later outfits he would wear while in his feline form.

On the left, a darker blue suit, a less loud bowtie - in conjunction with the glasses, he's notably more official and formal looking, which is appropriate for the occasion (here, he's dismantling the old Xavier school after the X-Men have moved to San Francisco, so it's almost a kind of mourning outfit), but still tasteful. He is not stodgy or ill-dressed, it's just a different take on much the same outfit.

Compare and contrast with what he's wearing on the right - still slate grey, but with a brighter bowtie, a tasteful red, and a waistcoat. Notably more buttoned up, notably more prim, and the bowtie is notably pitched up to attract attention - all of which is intentional. He's attempting to control where you're looking in a way that the outfit on the left is not, even though it's ostensibly the exact same ensemble. The dark blue blends with his fur, the slate grey contrasts - the one on the right is notably 'louder' and commands attention. These are choices. These are choices being made by a man that has come to effortlessly manipulate clothing so that you see what he wants you to see.

Even when it comes to casual wear.

Think about what these choices say. They speak to relaxation, to ease, to the projection of casualness. This is not a man who is afraid of dressing up when the occasion calls for it - but that's the point, isn't it? When the occasion calls for it.

Now, with all that established, I'm gonna just showcase some other examples of Hank's style, in the form of a moodboard I made quite some time ago!

And I'm going to shout out a favourite of mine.

White suit, cream vest, red shirt, purple tie - such a mixture of colours, and yet. It all just sort of works, doesn't it?

Oh, oh, and another favourite of mine!

Pinstripe vest with the arms cut off for the gun show? I'm sorry, but that is incredible. That is a style icon. That's sportiness and formality in one outfit, that says I can lay you out with one punch but I'm not going to because I'm a man of grace and gentleness. Have you ever seen an outfit that's more effortlessly Hank McCoy?

Now, naturally, this all falls apart when we get to Krakoa . . .

Immediately a downgrade. The fit, at least here, looks fine, but it's just so boring and practical and blends in - and, yes, I understand that it's a Hellfire Gala at which X-Force is providing security, but it just doesn't feel like Hank to me? And, I hate to point this out, but if the objective is to blend in, then, surely, if you're at a party at which everyone is wearing things like this . . .

Then wearing something bland and nondescript only actually serves to make you stand out more? So it's in this weird halfway house of boring enough to mark you out as security, but too boring to make you actually blend in.

And that's before we get into the bolo tie. Bolo ties, a type of necktie consisting of a piece of cord or braided leather with decorative metal tips (called aiguillettes) and secured with an ornamental clasp or slide, are usually associated with Western cowboy culture - you see Wolverine wearing these things, and it just doesn't fit any version of Hank's aesthetic?

It's also just a very loud kind of neckwear to be wearing if we're going with the security aesthetic, it draws attention immediately, especially the splotch of red that makes the X stand out - if we're going for something subtle, surely black on white would have been a better choice? To say nothing of the shorts, which - like, usually, those make a ton of sense for Hank, he's wearing them with the pinstripe vest I highlighted above, but again, it contrasts so much with the stately, boring aesthetic of the outfit?

All it takes is one look at everyone's outfit to see that Hank got a uniquely raw deal here - Sage and Domino look great with the asymmetrical fits, to say nothing of it complementing their natural colour choices; Wolverine looks fine, the bolo tie suits him; Quentin looks, bleh, but it's serviceable; and then there's Hank. Being humiliated in this shitty little shorts suit with a bolo tie that doesn't suit him. It's just so unflattering.

This is the choice of a man who doesn't give a fuck, which is not Hank - but, then again, this is X-Force, are we remotely surprised that this isn't a very Hank thing to wear? Even the clothing choices are off-base. And one of the other instances that comes to mind . . .

Ugh. It's literally drawn to be as bulbous and ill-fitting and unpleasant as possible. Even details like the band of the bow tie being visible are all wrong. This is humiliation by fashion, and I refuse to believe that it wasn't intentional.

Now, as for what I would have wanted out of a Hellfire Gala outfit for Hank? Honestly, I found a lot of them to be particularly garish and loud, but something that's still befitting Hank's outspoken style while not being embarrassing would be nice. I think that something like Colman Domingo's style would be appropriate!

Something impressive, something loud, but not garish, something that complements and accentuates the body rather than overpowering it. Hell, consider the larger body type that Hank was sporting during Krakoa - something open, that showcased his musculature but also his pleasing roundness, would have been rather avant garde, honestly. Kris Anka, notably for his fashion sensibilities, has even drawn Hank in this form (albeit slimmer) before, and he came out with something really quite lovely! It's possible!

Finally, I'll leave off with a piece by Sam Johnstone, and I'd like to draw particular attention to his blurb:

"Dr. Hank McCoy AKA Beast! – Kicking off the second year of Mutant Mondays with one of the most well known X-Men there is. There have been so many versions of Beast over the years, from gregarious and avuncular to sociopathically pragmatic, and that breadth of representation is one of the reasons I put off drawing him – how do you pick which version of the character to focus on? 

He’ll always be one of the most interesting characters from the perspective of ‘mutation’ – one of the few examples in Marvel comics where a character is not just allowed to change over time, but one who is defined by the incremental, unpredictable nature of that change, whether in his personality or in what literal form his body takes. 

Like so many people, my first exposure was though the animated series, but the moment that unlocked him for me was in New X-Men, where he reckons with the fear of what his changing body means for his sense of self. When his appearance becomes more feline, and his hands grow into paws and he loses the dexterity that was always the one way his physical mutation actually complimented his brain instead of contrasted it. So that’s the era I’ve tapped into here. I’ve taken the feline-era’s lion-like features down a notch, and imagined a version of that approach that blended the more animalistic aspects of his mutation with his avengers physicality. 

Now onto the fashion: I wanted to put him in some american ivy inspired menswear since I think his vanity is one of his most under-sung characteristics (and also, the browns compliment his fur), and the version of the character leaping around in underarmor is much less interesting to me than the version of the character who is definitely wearing fake lenses in his wire-rim frames. My ideal interpretation would have Hank really into tailoring, to balance form with function (Saying to cyclops "With the right materials and cut, you can do any amount of superheroing in a sport coat. Any choice not to is just personal style")."

I couldn't agree more with Mr. Johnstone here. Hank has a sense of vanity, an indisputable appreciation for what appearance means and what it communicates. I've talked at length about how his relationship with his body necessitates a degree of performance of not just humanity, but also specifically masculinity, a degree of gender presentation - he wants to be recognised as human, and not just specifically human, but warm blooded male, and his clothing sense should absolutely reflect that.

Also tagging @mccoysofthemultiverse because I'm sure their Hal has thoughts on all of this.

[unspeakable-imagination]

Hey pookie bear 🐻, would you mind dropping a nsfw and a sfw alphabet headcanon for our Wolverine?? Also I wanted to tell you that all the love and support you are getting is because you deserve it and because your work is amazing!!! I really hope that you are also enjoying support and love you are getting from all your fellow x-men simps ( I think this should be the fandoms name lol) 🩵🩵🩵💛🩵🩵🩵

Logan Howlett SFW Alphabet

Oh my goodness ofc pookie. I'll post the nsfw one later but for now, enjoy

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

If your not in a relationship, good luck. Logan has the hardest time showing affection towards anyone because of how scared he is to love them. If you, by some type of gods given grace, have ended up in a relationship with him, it's like the flip of a switch. Constant PDA, hands of your hips, you back your shoulders, slung around you in any way he can to show that you're his. Maybe not so much as kisses unless he's jealous. If he's seen another man looking at you, talking to you, or if he thinks thag you're even in their thoughts, he's going to rub their nose in the fact you're with HIM, not them. Kissing you, pulling you onto his lap while he sits, and even taking his time to occasionally run his hand up and down your sides.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Logan would probably form a friendship with you through training Jr fighting in a ring. The most tell-tail sign that he considers you a friend is if he's offering you a drink or favors. Need that picked up from town while he's out? He's on it. Can't lift that specific thing? Consider it done. He won't say anything about it. He just kinda does it. He tried nit to expect anything in return.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Absolutely, especially in a relationship. On the couch, on a bed during movie night. If he's really feeling it, he'll even wrap an arm around scott.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The idea of a domestic lifestyle terrifies Logan since any time he's tried it, it's ended in the death of a lived one. He truly does crave having a good sense of normalcy, but at this point he probably sees himself as to messed up to have it. Logan would cook for you but cleaning is something he won't touch with a ten foot pole.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Logan would usually rather die than break up with the person he loved, but if he's fallen out of his attachment (which usually doesn't happen) then he would likely be the kind of person to move out and say "Hey, sorry I can't do this anymore."

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As mentioned before, Logan isn't really feeling like he deserves any time of long-lasting relationship. He really does want it though. To be able to achieve it would take atleast a couple of years, realistically a 6 mo- a year to even realize he's into you like that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Logan is really abrasive and isn't the kind of person tnag would really be gently. He usually says it how it is or how he really feels. If you really get on his nerves he gets snappy and doesn't always think his words through. Actually, he never does. If your in a relationship, he'd try to take that into consideration, but you'll have to ask and warn him first.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs take time, and I don't think I can stress it enough. And once you reach a point that he'd even enjoy hugs, he'd still be shocked. You could grab him and hug him and he'd just stand there awkwardly for like 5 seconds before even putting an arm around you and hugging you back.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Logan will probably never want to say it, because that makes it real, and if he really loves you then he thinks you'll die. He tends to Rey and show it through tou actions, but you you have a stable relationship that you explain you need thoes verbal affirmations, he's on it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Logan gets jealous if someone even looks at you wrong, or if someone has what he wants. He gets salty if he doesn't have it, or flaunts it if he does.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

This man loves to kiss his partners and even familial people on their forheads. He's got a kid.? Kiss them on the forehead. He's got a wife? Forged kisses every morning. He's got a best friend? A little iffy.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Logan doesn't want to admit the soft spot he has for children, especially his own if 2017 means anything. They do have to kinds work their way in, but once they worm their way into his heart he's as good as a babysitter. He might gwt a little stressed, though.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Logan loves having coffee, Cigars, or even a whiskey on the rocks on a balcony in the forest. Alone or with a partner, he doesn't really mind all that much.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Logan has a hard time going to sleep and staying asleep, but will cuddle you like his life depends on it, taking care to place his hands in a way that he wouldn't stab you if a nightmare were to occur.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I think that his past and trauma would kinda be drip-fed to any friends, but in a relationship, anythingbtaht bothers him he will vent about, usually with a drink and a smoke. He will ramble, holding you close and using you as a calming agent while he tells you about his day.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It's very dependant, so situational. This could go wither way. He could blow up or he could be begging to have a good talk, but ultimately, he does end up having a lower tolerance. He could be patient for a bit, but after that it's like a bomb timer.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Logan remebers EVERYTHING down to that one time you liked the way that that one blade of grass waved in the wind on may 14th 20xx.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He loves to flaunt the story of how you two got together and met or a first date. Catching you is usually his favorite memories.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Logan cannot stand the idea of you being in danger for him, but he'll willingly put himself in a position to be atomized, vaporized, castrated, or killed just to see you safe and smiling.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Depends on the kind of tasks. He doesn't like most housework but if you need the help, he's usually there. He likes to bring you breakfast in bed on any important day.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Logan is disgusted by the fact that gets a tendency to look down on some of the people that he loves. He starts treating them like their children, and like they can't care for themselves because. If they can... then is he really needed? Dude has the most isecure attachment style known to man.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he's hot and that's that. Otherwise he doesn't care.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He probably would feel a little incomplete even with you, it would always linger in his mind if it's the right choice and if it will turn out okay, but you definetly help fill the hole.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He totally picks his nose every once in awhile and wipes it on his pants but only like once a month max. Very rate and never around somebody.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Can't stand someone who doesn't like forests. He can't stand cities and even more so, he can't stand living in a city or crowded areas for to long. If you want to stay in the city, it's a deal breaker.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Aside from his nightmares, if he's not sleeping with a partner, he will cuddle his pillows. He also drools and snores and starfishes.

[shadow-redferne]

Decided to create a masterlist of Sinder google docs, and the responses to the situation, because holy shit there's a lot and I don't want it to be drowned out, especially not by the dramatuber assholes. Some notes: -I've chosen to include Sinder's tweet/google doc in this too, because regardless of how we feel, I do believe we should atleast hear everyone out, even the guilty parties. -Not everyone shown here was directly involved, and not every response will be shown. In particular, responses from dramatubers and known grifters (ie. SmugAlana, Rev Says Desu, etc) will not be included, because I'd rather not promote them, regardless of how good their takes are (remember: in the words of dril, you do not, under any circumstances, "have to hand it to them"). Closest I'll get to is False. -This is not intended to shame people who continue to like Sinder, this is all meant to educate those out of the loop, as well as to keep track of those who have responded, whether directly or indirectly. All will be under a cut because... there's a lot. I'll be updating this frequently too. If there's anything you want me to add, please let me know! (Also, fair warning, some of the screenshots/clips do contain some potentially offensive language). (EDIT 1: Edited to include FalseEyeD's video (edit edit: removed after consideration due to concerns regarding his content/views), as well as Vienna and Nyanner's tweets). (EDIT 4/29/2025 - Edited to include Numi's discussion on stream, Silvervale's discussion on stream and Zentreya's tweet. I also forgot to include Rainhoe's discussion so I've added that one too). (EDIT 4/30/2025 - Edited to include Yuzu's discussion). (EDIT 5/1/2025 - MOST LIKELY FINAL EDIT - Edited to include Tricky's discussion and Vienna's discussion. This will most likely be my last edit/addition because there's just so much stuff out there now that I can no longer really keep up with it lmfao).

INITIAL GOOGLE DOCS: Nanoless' Google Doc. Bao's Google Doc. Sacramore's Google Doc. Spite's Google Doc. Silvervale's Google Doc. SINDER'S RESPONSES/APOLOGY: Sinder's tweet announcing that REDACTED is no longer her manager.

Sinder's Apology VIDEOS/CLIPS: Shylily Addressing the Situation. Geega's First Response to the Situation. CottontailVA Talks about the Situation. Cotton talks about Sinder's Apology. Anny talks about the situation. Anny talks about Sinder's Apology. Chibidoki talks about the situation. While discussing an unrelated issue, Ironmouse briefly mentioned her support for Nanoless on stream.(Skip to 2:17) Ironmouse also stressed the importance of supporting artists in general. Spite comments on the situation, and thanks people for their support. Bao discusses the situation on stream. Buffpup expresses her frustration with Sinder. Suko discusses the Sinder Drama. Numi discusses the situation on stream. Silvervale discusses the situation on stream. Neuro-sama briefly addressed the controversy here (this is probably mostly neuro being neuro, still think it's worth mentioning). Rainhoe's discussion of the situation. Yuzu's discussion of the situation. Tricky's discussion of the situation. Vienna's discussion of the situation. TWEETS: Bao's response to Sinder's Apology

Shylily's Response to Sinder's Apology.

Numi's first tweet on the situation.

Numi offering support to Bao.

Jowol (PorcelainMaid) did not comment on the situation, but did ask people to not bring it up in his chats.

Trickywi's response to Sinder

Nyanner's response to Sinder's Apology.

Vienna's response to Sinder's Apology

Zentreya encouraging people to support those affected.

(There was also apparently another tweet from Zen, but I haven't been able to get a hold of it. if anyone could send it to me, that would be greatly appreciated!).

[fyodors-husband]

Hihi! Can i request some Verlaine sfw and nsfw hcs??? I hope you have a good day!!!

ANON I LOVE YOU.

(Also I assumed you meant x reader so i made them that way, i can make another if it's general hcs!)

Thank you so much for giving me a chance and reason to write for him 💜 he's my favorite!

I hope you have an amazing day aswell!

Also, I apologize if you've been waiting a long time for me to answer I've been less active since my semester is just ending now, but over the summer I'll be much better!

Anyways, here's NSFW and SFW Paul Verlaine HCs!

CW: smut, Very very very slight OOC (we don't mischaratarize verlaine here), stormbringer spoilers, no beta we die like the flags (I'm sorry 😭)

°~•~○~°~•~○_FLUFF BELOW THE CUT_○~•~°~○~•~°

Verlaine is a very clingy lover, some might even say possessive, the thing about him though is he dosent want to control you

He loves you alot and he feels that your the only person who loves him, so he dosent want to loose you

But he also wants you all to himself, know what I mean?

during, and post stormbringer, he's a spy (post he's in the pm basement but still a spy)

So he's probably got money, and once of his love languages is definitely giving gifts

Another is acts of service. Definitely

Hes not to good at showing his affections for you, so he'll do things for you and buy things for you to try and make up for that

If you knew him pre / during strombringer, you'd be able to see how he's changed between during / post, especially pre / post rimbaud incident (death) and he'd honestly be so grateful that you still love him after all of that

Hed be insecure though, that you'd leave him, please reassure him you do love him alot

Hes definitely a fan of cuddling / snuggling up to you (after a while)

He wouldn't be very open to touch in the start of the relationship (maybe holding hands)

But as he comes to trust you and realize you do actually love him he's alot more fond of touching you and maybe even some PDA

Takes you on the fanciest dates, anywhere you want to go, to the most high-end restraints definitely (he'll have a subordinate get it for you and take it in if he can't leave the basement)

Flowers, lots of flowers, one of thoose guys who keeps one for himself so he knows when he needs to get you new ones

°~•~○~°~•~○_NSFW BELOW THE CUT_○~•~°~○~•~°

Switch.

Definitely takes him alot of time to be comfortable enough to trust you with something like actual sex

Within the first few months you've had your first kiss and cuddled

After the six month mark you've most likely made out, but never done anything more

Possibly he'd service you but he's also nervous

Hes not a virgin per say, he definitely has experience, just not alot

When he finally comes around you will not regret waiting

So soft and gentle with you the first time, checking to make sure everything is okay, the most considerate lover

Hes take it very slow at first, especially your first time together, finding out what you like and what you dont and what he can and can't do

After all the foreplay and that, he could get a little rough, not on purpose because he'd never want to hurt you, (without previous discussion) and as soon as you tell him to slow down or stop he would

After the first time, you two talk about what you do and don't like and he's very respectful of it

If you like to be degraded, he'd most likely only say a little bit, he dosent want to hurt your feelings or mentality by accident

he's a hand holder during sex, or some part, he has to be holding onto you all the time atleast on one spot

Scared you'll disappear honestly

If you want to top him, he'd take some time to come around as that's a whole new level of trust but it wouldn't take him as long as it did to agree to sex

Maybe a week or two at most

If you do top him please be gentle, very into soft making love more than rough fucking

Don't degrade him he will cry :(

very very into praise, tell him how good he's doing and how pretty he is, he'll melt (and probably still cry, but not in a bad way)

Will absolutely die if you show any concern for him if he winces or groans, wouldn't think you cared that much about him

He still holds onto you even when he's on the bottom, wraps his arms around your neck

The position is definitely tame at first, he wants to always be facing you aswell, whether he's top or bottom, to make sure your okay and if you two can keep going

He miiiiight be open to positions where he isn't facing you but again, takes a couple weeks

Afterwards very clingy, dosent want to get up or clean up, just wants to lay and hold you

Basically no pillow talk, only because, as i said, not very experienced so he falls asleep quickly

[imaginedreamwrite]

Listen, I know you said Fae!cod characters, but can I offer you the idea of fae!reader? Specifically with Soap. And specifically, selkie!reader. Maybe Soap is a fae related as well.

Like, imagine with me if you will (I seriously think I don't know how prompts work. I'm just writing at you at this point. Enjoy, I guess?? Feel free to use this, I guess? Anyways I'm off to bed after writing this)

Selkie!reader (who I'll be calling Sel for ease of typing and once again, because it's me, masc pronouns and terms), local selkie who has a habit of having a very tight grip on his coat which typically if it's not in his triple layered built into a solid block of concrete flooring safe, take the form of a parka (picture an Inuit sealskin parka, which they look very warm and fuzzy, especially an amauti, idk something something ftm!reader modelling it after his mum's parka not caring that an amauti is typically only female, something something he puts his baby in there when he has a baby and it's great)

John "Soap" MacTavish, local Scottish man with fae blood somewhere in his line to the point where he can tell when someone isn't human pretty quickly

Nana MacTavish, Soap's Nana obviously, she's very much Soap's go to for all things fae, she knows way more than Soap does

Soap, after meeting Sel, is very aware Sel is not human. He doesn't know exactly what Sel is, and he treads very carefully, making sure not to stir up the wrong kind of trouble with the wrong faerie. Then he starts to notice how tightly Sel grips this one specific parka (though to be fair, soap reasons it looks extremely well made and looks to be real fur, it probably costs a fortune) and how whenever they're near water, Sel had this distinct longing look in his eyes (he treads a little more carefully after this, making sure to not even brush against Sel, he's not about to be dragged up by a kelpie if that's what Sel is).

And then he sees it. They're at some boardwalk up north, and Sel is sitting on a doc looking out at the water sulking or brooding or whatever it is Sel does when he's being sad by the water. Looks pretty normal until he notices Sel sit up straighter and focus on something out in the water, a seal. And then another. And another. A little herd of them. These seals get very close to where Sel is sitting, barking and making noise at him, and while Soap can't hear Sel, his mouth moves as if he's responding to the seals. Sel looks much happier after.

Late that night, Soap awakes to Sel sneaking out of the place they're staying and making his way out to the water. Soap follows and watches as Sel's parka shifts and goes from a proper coat to a seal skin. Soap is stunned because selkie are rare, especially selkie who willingly spend time around humans while also still in possession of their coats. But he watches as Sel wades into the water, surrounded by seals (Soap assumes they're his friends or possibly his family. The brief thought of one of those seals possibly being Sel's mate makes his heart sting in a way he's not ready to talk about if ever). Soap leaves the seals to do their seal things. A selkie's business is private, and he respects that.

Soap is hyperaware of Sel's coat now, though. And he thinks Sel might have caught on how protective he is over the selkie's coat (Sel has definitely noticed, and it's starting to freak him out in all honesty). And then, after a long gruelling mission, Sel does the unthinkable. He forgets his coat in a public space. Soap panics when he notices someone reaching for Sel's coat and he hits the guy in the stomach.

"Don't touch that, [reader] doesn't like when people touch his stuff. [Reader]! You forgot your coat!" Soap doesn't imagine the dread on Sel's face when he whips around. Nor does he imagine the relief when Sel sees that Soap isn't touching or letting anyone else touch his coat.

Sel relaxes around Soap considerably. He starts hanging out with Soap a lot. Soap enjoys the company of his new friend. Until Sel leaves his seal skin on Soap's bed. Not in the form of the parka. In its real form. The one Soap saw wrapped around Sel that one night on the beach. It's definitely not an accident that Sel has left it here.

Soap calls his Nana, and she laughs for a solid five minutes at his worry before telling him: "Iain. Iain it's a marriage proposal. He's given you his coat. He's trusting you with a significant piece of himself. To accept in a good way, the way he's hoping you pick, you bring him back his sealskin because it means he can trust you to never trap him on land that you'll trust him to come back if you let him keep his sealskin. To accept in a negative way, you take the coat and hide it, breaking his trust but keeping him trapped with you, he'll likely steal his skin back, run away, and you'll never see him again. To reject him, have him come take his coat back without touching it yourself. Make the right choice, Iain. And if you steal and hide his coat, I swear to all things good on earth…"

The call with his Nan makes nervousness claw at this throat.

Hesitantly, he carefully picks up the sealskin, taking a moment to just hold it close to himself (it's warm and soft and beautiful and perfect). He then takes a deep breath and goes to find his selkie. He has a sealskin to return and a date to plan. They're skipping a few steps, but it's okay. It just means Soap has to make their first proper date extra special.

Johnny was used to the cold. The salty spray of the sea crashing upon his boat, upon his face, when he went out onto the water. Johnny was used to the abrasive jolt of the seawater that against his skin.

It was welcoming, to be close to the sea, and even as a child he found himself clambering over smoothened stones to reach the water. It was always a draw, always something he needed desperately. All his life the ocean, the seas, called him.

Even now, as Johnny searches the shoreline for the familiar face that he had seen time and time again. There’s thick fur in his hands, what appears to be a handcrafted coat to others, represents something far deeper to Soap. It’s words his grandmother spoke to him when he was a child, the promise of something supernatural that always seemed to linger in the foreground.

Fae-blood, apparently, ran in his veins. His grandmother had often spoken about ties and bonds, the mythical creatures that fae-blooded men like he could see. He spent his life on the sea, focused his time on being a fisherman.

Which is how he met you. Which is how his path had ultimately crossed with yours.

“Sel!” He raises his voice, speaking over the crashing waves upon the shore as a storm rolled in.

Thick and dense overhang clouds, dense with rain that was promised to belt the ground it met. The feeling of something on the horizon, a thunderstorm that would encroach upon the area was rolling in with the increasing wind.

“Sel!” Johnny calls again, his fingers holding the fine fur that was treated like a precious gift, worth its weight in gold. “I got your gift!”

Time and time before he had ran into you. When he stopped some asshole from touching the Selkie’s fur. The coat that was laid against the rocks while you were out enjoying the water. Johnny hadn’t hesitated, he didn’t waste a moment in defending you and your fur, in showing that these other men had no place touching what wasn’t theirs.

He waits, holding the fur across his forearm as he waits. As he watches the sea, his eyes scour the small cluster of trees along the beach, he sees movement. Johnny follows the movement from the corner of his eyes, the sound of muffled footsteps as the man he’d waited for made an appearance.

“I got your gift.” Johnny’s heels dig into the rocks as he walks, the cold spray of the sea hits him in an all too familiar way as he makes his way toward you. “My nan told me the whole story.”

You stand there watching him. While the wind whips and the threat of a storm increases upon the ground, Johnny knows taking shelter will be imperative. But he’s got something else to focus on first, he needs to return the gift.

“You took good care of it.” Your voice is soft, determined though it is, and you won’t back away from the Scottish fisherman. “You like it?”

“It’s beautiful, Sel.” Johnny runs his fingers along the fur, fingers curling against the softness that he finds himself enraptured by. “Suits the creature it belongs to, eh?”

There’s a faint cry of other seals, Selkie’s like you, and Johnny briefly turns his head. The sea is getting rougher, their voices almost sound like a warning to avoid the waves, something Johnny is not going to ignore. He might be a damn good fisherman but he also knows to trust the kind of creatures that linger in the water.

The friendship that formed between you has become something else. The friendship turned into something deeper, a proposal in the most appropriate way a Selkie can.

“This is yours, ya need it.” Johnny’s touch is soft and gentle as he wraps that beautiful fur around your shoulders. Once it rests in place, Johnny lowers his hands from your shoulders to your waist, and then hips. “We should find shelter, Sel.”

Silence falls between you briefly as the other Selkie’s you call family still bark from somewhere on the sea. Johnny watches you turn your head and reply, a simple message that hushes them. Once the message is accepted by the family waiting in the water, Johnny feels your hand slip into his. Lightning strikes in the distance, the sound of thunder echoes far too close to the shoreline.

Johnny steadies you among the rocks as you leave the shoreline, heading away from the beach. Johnny’s instincts to protect you are there are the forefront of his mind, always the focus whenever he’s near you. He slips an arm around your shoulders, steering you proactively toward his place.

Johnny knows he has to make up for missing the first few steps of this relationship, and he swears he’ll make up for it. But first he knows he’s gotta call his nan, tell her the good news.