#Manuel x reader

[riptidelover]

Hermes after delivering Medusas head:

[gulnarsultan]

Girly, give me anything with Yandere Husband Manuel I, please 🙂‍↕️

Hello dear. Thank you for your request. I am very eager to write for this man. I hope you like it.

Yandere husband Manuel I of Portugal headcanon.

~ You were the first child and first daughter of Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella II of Castile. You were raised and educated as befits a Princess. When you reached the marriageable age, you married Prince Afonso of Portugal. You traveled to Portugal to start your new life. When you arrived in Portugal, the first person to greet you at the port was your husband's cousin Manuel, Duke of Viseu. Although your marriage was a political match, a warm relationship developed between the two of you. However, your marriage ended when your husband Prince Afonso lost his life after falling off a horse.

~ You returned to Spain upon your family's request. You were heartbroken and in mourning. You gave your family an ultimatum that you would never marry again. Your family tolerated your request at first. Six years later, Manuel ascended to the throne of Portugal. And the first thing he did when he ascended the throne was to ask your parents to let him marry you. At first, you tried to explain softly that you didn't want to get married. Your parents offered him to marry your younger sister Maria. However, Manuel immediately rejected this offer. He was very determined to marry you.

~ Manuel's request to marry you quickly turned into a demand. With the last letter he sent, you were forced to accept the marriage. Because if you didn't accept, it was written that relations between the two countries would deteriorate and even war would start. When you reached Portugal, Manuel himself welcomed you, just like the first time.

~ You got married in a magnificent and perfect wedding. Manuel showed you love and attention. He treated you with care and attention. He made sure that you had a large wardrobe with the most expensive jewelry and dresses made of wonderful fabrics. You had a lot of servants and bridesmaids working for you. Your husband Manuel would regularly report to you to make sure you were eating every meal, drinking enough water and fruit, getting enough sleep and rest, and getting enough sunlight and fresh air.

~ You were pregnant in no time. Manuel was literally on cloud nine. You were going to have a baby that would be proof of your love and a symbol of your commitment to the woman he loved. Moreover, you would now be a family and would stay together forever. Moreover, if your baby was a boy, he would be the future King of Portugal, Castile and Leon, and Aragon. Manuel treated you like you were glass throughout your pregnancy. The most skilled midwives and doctors were already at the Palace for the birth. When the labor started, Manuel didn’t leave your doorstep for even a minute. He was so excited and stressed. He was so afraid that something would happen to you or the baby.

~ When the doors finally opened, Manuel rushed in with excitement. You were lying exhausted on the bed. Your newborn son was in your arms. Manuel had a look of happiness and pride on his face as he approached you. He kissed your forehead and carefully took the baby in his arms. He said, "You did a great job and he was proud of you." Manuel named your son Miguel. He was the Crown Prince of Portugal, as well as the Prince of Asturias and Girona.

~ Being married to Manuel isn't all bad. Apart from jealousy attacks, his outbursts are rare. He is a good husband and a good father. He is ready to do anything for you. All you have to do is ask. In fact, most of the time you don't even have to ask. Because Manuel is a master at understanding what you want, what you think, and what you feel, whether it's from your gaze or your body language. He wouldn't hesitate to go to the ends of the earth to protect you and our children.Manuel never had a lover or a mistress. He remained faithful to you until his last breath.

[aimiesposts]

"I thought maybe if I hadn't missed it all, maybe if I had made a different call, maybe he'd be fine." But it's Hermes to Luke ☹️

[demonkitty-toebeanz]

I love Daveed diggs ❤️ that's all that's the post

[emmanotfunny19]

next episode in summary

[kqzlqls]

A Special Day - T. Jefferson

TJ x Reader - Smut

notes: tj’s a lil slut for ya, alexander’s next (/j.. or maybe not?), how do you write southern accents!!!:!:!, there’s a fluffier version, i swear!

Oh, your poor, poor husband. He had returned from his work; being the Secretary of State. You knew how hard his job could get.

Thomas had slumped on the couch, his hands covering his eyes in exhaustion. “Fuck,” He whispered, his tone of voice not like the man you once knew.

You came over to him, sitting beside him. “Dear? What has gotten you so.. worked up?” You ask, holding his chin up for him to face you.

His eyes softy lit up when he saw you, gaze softening. “Nothing you need to worry about, darlin’.”

You pout, knowing he wouldn’t budge unless you executed an action plan. A bulb went off your head. Aha!

He lifts a brow, wondering what you’re planning to do next. He knows you’re going to do something.. out of the ordinary, to say the least.

— He’d been dealing with a certain Alexander Hamilton, issuing his debt plan into action. He was exxxHAUSTED, as you can.. already, probably tell.

“Come onnnn,” You pout, giving him the best you could possibly attempt to try to persuade him into telling.

“Oh, come on, darlin’. I don’t wanna worry you..” Your uncharacteristically tired husband held your hand.

“But of course, I would. I’m your partner, Thomas, I should know what’s going on so that I could..”

“..make you feel better.” You say with the most innocent tone, your hands traveling to his lap and caressing it.

His breath hitches. Fuck, he loved it when you tease him. It makes him feel.. safe.

“It seems like you’re enjoying the show already, Thomas.” You say as you kneel down on the floor, both hands caressing his inner thighs.

His eyes widen. He could feel his growing erection go hard. Fuck.. you just looked so.. alluring. It made him wanna—

His thoughts cut off as you unbuttoned his dark magenta pantaloons, revealing his undergarments. You could only remember how big he was—and it wasn’t even his actual dick—it was only his pants.

You take off the last of his clothing, revealing his long, thick, and hard cock.

“Let me treat you tonight, darling..” You say, putting his tip in your mouth. Your tongue swirls and licks his tip.

His eyes roll back as he groans, hips bucking up. His brown curls bounce as he writhed and shivers under your touch. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.. ah..” He groans.

You took him in deeper. His head went back, hands went down to his own thighs. You held his hand, squeezing it.

The contrast of affection made his brain go haywire. You weren’t even close to being done yet, taking him in deeper, but..

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.. ‘m close, love.. ah.. yes.. hmf..” Thomas whispered with a needy tone.

“Ah-ah-ah. Not yet.” You pull out.

He whines. “But.. love..”

“Nope. Nada. None.” You smirk.

You stroke his dick, slow.. sensual.. strokes. You notice the way his eyes roll back, holding back whimpers and moans. “Come on, darling.. more vocal?” You pleaded, purposefully putting on a more demanding tone, testing his reaction.

And boy, you were right.

“Mhh.. ah.. fuck.. ngh.. yes.. more..” Your husband groans, biting his lip in need.

“More? More what, dear?” You purposefully stop.

He whines again. “Darlin’.. please.. can’t take it..”

“Oh? You can’t? Okay, I’ll stop..” You turn away—but he grabs your hand. He looks at you in need, eyes practically glowing with lust.

“What?” You chuckle with mirth. “You said you wanted to stop..” You reason with him, earning a more whiny pout.

“Daaarrrliiin’..” He whimpers.

“Oh, fine..” You start again, this time—

Using your mouth.

Your pretty little mouth.. so good for taking him in. He can feel the pool of heat coming within him. You could tell, too.

“Darlin’..” He breathes out.

“You can cum.” Those words made him break.

He came inside your mouth, his cum flowing through your throat. His body shook with lust as you felt his juices stop.

You chuckle at his exhausted state.

“Aww, my little Tommy’s tired?” You get up, standing in front of him. You tilt his face up, your hand on his cheek. You could feel his sweat.

No response. Just a quick little whimper.

You chuckle.

“We’re not done yet, love.”

[gulnarsultan]

Hello to my favorite writer, hope your having a good day and that your drinking, resting and eating well!

~ Yandere Royal Version ~

Can you do King Henry The 7th, King Francis the 1st, King Henry V and King Manuel the 1st of Portugal x wife, watching their first born son taking their first steps

Hello my dear. Thank you so much. I hope you are having a good day/night too. Take care of yourself too. [I will scream with joy when I read King Manuel I Portuguese. Thank you for including this man in the request.]

Henry vii

Shortly after you and Henry got married, you were blessed with a healthy baby boy. This was a great joy for Henry, the Court, and the people of England. Because now there was another Prince besides Henry to continue the lineage. Weeks of tournaments and festivities were held in honor of Prince Edward's birth. Henry was already a devoted husband to you, and after your son was born, his affection for you seemed to have increased even more. He had given you many gifts in honor of your son's birth. And he was trying to spoil you as much as he could.

It was early morning. You and Henry were lying in bed. The first light of the morning had begun to fill your room. You sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes. Henry immediately greeted you by kissing your neck. He rubbed your swollen belly and asked how you and the baby were. A small laugh escaped your mouth. At that moment, the figure at the door caught your attention. Your eyes widened in surprise. Your son Edward was standing at the door, looking at the two of you.

"Henry," you squealed.

Henry's attention turned to the door. "Edward?"

Edward walked towards your bed with small steps. Henry immediately took Edward in his arms and laughed.

"That's my son."

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

Francis i

A smile formed on your face. Your husband Francis was running around the garden with your son Antoine in his arms. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with your husband's energy. However, you hoped that his energetic and outgoing personality would never change. Francis carefully placed Antoine on the blankets on the grass. He came over to you and kissed your cheek.

"Francis," you whined.

Francis kissed your other cheek coquettishly.

"Yes, my Queen. I am at your service."

When your attention turned to your son, a sound that betrayed your surprise escaped your mouth.

"Francis, look."

When Francis turned his gaze to your son, he shifted excitedly in his place.

Antoine was standing on his own. He took a step slowly. Then another. He walked to you with small steps. You waited for your son to come to your arms with open arms. Antoine finally managed to reach your arms. After taking your son in your arms, you kissed his small cheeks. Francis stroked your son's hair affectionately.

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

Henry v

Shortly after the birth of your first child, Prince Arthur, Henry left the Palace to fight in a war. The war lasted almost months. During this time, you never neglected to send each other letters. You finally learned the news of your victory through a letter that reached you. As the Queen, you decide to celebrate this victory and the return of your King husband by organizing a big celebration. Everyone was happily waiting for King Henry and his army in front of the palace. Your son Arthur had learned to stand on his own a few weeks ago. He was standing by holding on to the skirts of your dress. When King Henry came into your line of sight on his horse, you started waving.

"Arthur. Look. Your father is coming."

Prince Arthur laughs a little and points to his father with his tiny finger. Suddenly, Arthur lets go of your skirt and starts walking towards his father with tiny steps. Henry quickly gets off his horse and opens his arms. Arthur finally gets into his father's arms. Henry takes him in his arms and walks next to you. You then kiss Arthur's forehead.

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

Manuel i

You were spending time in your husband Manuel's study. You were sitting on the couch reading a book and your son Miguel was playing with his toys on the floor. Manuel was organizing some paperwork at his desk. Manuel would occasionally look at you and your son. A smile formed on his face as he looked at the two of you. When your gazes met, a smile formed on your face as well. When Miguel raised his head and looked at the two of you, he laughed sweetly.

"My little prince is so happy."

Miguel claps his hands together and applauds his father's words. This movement causes Manuel to laugh. As if an invisible force suddenly causes Miguel to stand up.

"Manuel."

Your husband watches Miguel with a surprised expression on his face. Miguel takes small steps towards his father. Manuel happily takes Miguel in his arms.

"Our son is walking. Our precious Prince."

You go to your husband and son. You hug them both in a big hug.

[chrism02]

Love the sinner - Chapter 4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56144254/chapters/169637344

Happy birthday to the wonderful and talented Alfred Molina!

[linnamonrolls0]

The Winner Takes It All

LMM!Hermes x Reader

Summary:

“devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more…”

You accidentally find your way into the Lotus Casino, where a certain Greek god takes a keen interest in a game of poker, a sweet deal, and… you.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4,480

A/N:

I wasn’t gonna write this… until I saw some hater saying they’d [redacted] if they saw a LMM!Hermes x Reader fic show up - so naturally, being the disastrous Lin simp that I am, I HAD TO DO IT. After all, learning from the best in proving the naysayers wrong…

A lot of this was written pre-episode, allow it with a few inconsistencies and a lot of research-induced additions!

Mixtape... bloop - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6v2ZfRamJRh8eP6qOqz4ND

Chapter 1: When The Chips Are Down

Contrary to popular belief, apparently it is possible to get lost in Las Vegas.

You were only strolling the Strip with a group of friends on the last day of your whirlwind vacation, but soon enough you found yourself at a dead end, unsure of what turn you’d even taken to get there. 

Hoping to locate a restroom and some means of connectivity to contact your friends, you beelined for the nearest building, flashily labelled the Lotus Hotel and Casino: upon glancing upward, you were met with the sight of a forty-storey tower, with a wide open entrance marked by a blooming neon-bright lotus flower in front of you. It was the sort of place you would expect to be buzzing with life, but oddly enough nary a soul lingered by the shining silver doors; just stillness and silence, save for the muffled music pounding from somewhere inside.

Though you felt overwhelmingly uneasy, that entrance carried a strange magnetism that compelled you to step inside. Something that suggested all your fear would be put to rest the moment you walked through those doors… or into that flower, at least.

You tucked your hands under your sleeves and drew in a deep breath, before you crossed the petalled threshold into an opulent lobby decorated with lotus plants in intricately designed pots and inviting plush couches around the circular hall. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the Nevada summer heat, and the whole place seemed to glow in a dark shade of pink. 

You immediately felt an invisible weight ease off of your shoulders as you entered… What had you come here to look for, again?

Right, a phone charger and somewhere to pee. Of course, basic human necessities, how could you forget those so quickly?

Interrupting your line of thought, you paused in your tracks when a tall Barbie doll materialised in front of you, dressed in bright pink from head to toe; upon first glance she looked like some sort of projection, as though she wasn’t real at all.

“Welcome to the Lotus Hotel and Casino,” she greeted you in an almost robotic voice, with a plastic smile stretched across her face, holding out a shimmering green card. “Here’s your Cash Card, have a great time!”

“Cash… what? Do I have to pay for this?” you stuttered, confused beyond belief as you took the card. What was this place?

“No, not a penny!” She shook her head; not a single strand of her perfectly coiffed blonde hair shifted out of place. “Would you like a tour? Here, have a drink. Only the best in the world here!” 

She offered you a glass goblet, filled to the brim with a dark maroon liquid and topped with blueberries, bearing the same eerie magnetism as the doors had done minutes before. You eyed the drink dubiously, brows furrowed as you sniffed it in a futile attempt to ascertain what exactly it was.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you politely declined, “What is—”

But before you could finish your question, the Barbie doll had disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived, and the moment you sipped the strong floral drink, your questions completely evaporated.

Following your curiosity, you craned your neck and looked up to see endless floors lined with rooms and doors and glass balconies, with a pair of glass elevators in the middle. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the great glass elevator could shoot through the ceiling like something out of a children’s book.

At least there were more people in here, though you were certain they too had just appeared as if by magic; not acknowledging you at all, they milled about in the lobby and outside the doors to the casino, beside to what appeared to be an arcade full of excited children playing classic and modern video games alike. Regardless of age, all the guests were clad in fancy-dress costumes; you figured perhaps there was an event taking place that had its attendees reflecting different eras of fashion. Wouldn’t be unusual for this town, everyone was dressed crazy and after three days traversing Sin City’s myriad clubs and casinos, nothing fazed you - or perhaps the effects of whatever you’d taken at that club last night still hadn’t fully worn off, who knew…

Still in a bit of a daze, you floated toward the immense double doors leading to the Casino, already hearing the jingling of slot machines singing proud over the pounding pop beats as their backing track.

The casino was lit by ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, deliberately dimmed to give way to the bright, flashing lights of the various gaming machines assembled around the hall, surrounding a set of card tables in its centre. Chatter and laughter filled the room and people crowded around the tables, playing without a care in the world and having the time of their lives; everyone seemed to have a goblet in hand and a cash card in the other, not dissimilar to your current state. It was warmer in here, though still comfortable enough that you could breathe… Just about.

You wandered through and your attention was glued to a game of roulette at a table beside you, where a couple had just won who knows what, when you were interrupted by a greeting that you just somehow knew was directed at you.

“Well, hello, there,” you heard in a smooth, low tenor behind you.

You whirled around on your heel to be met by… a guy. Literally just a guy, casually leaning on his gorgeously tanned forearms on a nearby craps table, aimlessly toying with a pair of dice in his left hand as he gazed over at you. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his vaguely familiar but handsome face, a mischievous little smirk on his lips, and pretty brown eyes that sparkled in the flashing lights… There was something about those eyes that drew you in. And for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away…

He looked like the most normal person in the room, but he seemed entirely out of place, given that everyone else was dressed to the nines - meanwhile he wore a comfy tan hoodie and sweatpants set, as if he perhaps owned it all and subsequently had no rules to follow in this already-lawless land. When he stepped around his table to approach you, he certainly did swagger around like he ruled the place, and his companions nearby looked at him like they worshipped the ground he walked on. Perhaps he was important, but how were you to know?

“You come here often?” he flirted, just about the most awful pickup line imaginable, but you were past the point of questioning why it still sounded attractive.

How had you ended up here, anyway? Hell knew… But this was Sin City, after all; a little harmless flirting could do you no harm, surely… 

“Nope, never been here before. But weirdly, I don’t want to leave…” you shrugged, taking another sip of that strangely addictive drink.

“Sounds about right, Miss…”

“[Y/N],” you offered casually, uncharacteristically not hesitant.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he said with a playful lilt to his tone, holding out a hand, “They call me Hermes.”

When you shook his hand, for a split second you could’ve sworn you weren’t there anymore - when his smooth hand held yours, something akin to a firework went off inside your mind, and you’d put it down to just sparks if not for the phantom breeze you felt just then, a gust that nearly knocked you off your feet.

You couldn’t place what it was, exactly, but there was something strange about this man. He bore an almost otherworldly quality, as though he wasn’t human at all… But how could he be anything else? Come to think of it, there was a similarly supernatural energy about the casino itself; no wonder he fit right in to this weird wonderland.

“What, you got a Birkin in your back pocket or something, Mr Hermes?” you laughed, trying to shake off that odd suspicion, only to be met by his indignant scowl. Even that was cute.

“And what business do you have with my back pockets?” he teased, tucking one hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, to which you raised an intrigued brow.

You shrugged, nonchalant, still reeling from that strange feeling. “Nothing yet, but perhaps I’d like to find out…”

“Obviously I do not, but I could hook you up.” The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, least of all when Hermes smirked, that patented brand of mischief you were quickly growing quite fond of as he swaggered across to the card table; the players welcomed him back gladly. “Care for a game?” he asked, seemingly winning one without even paying attention to it as he rolled the dice carelessly onto the table that stood between you.

As he retrieved the dice, you eyed his hands curiously; they could only be described as pretty, as though he might be a pianist or… an artist of some description. He had his sleeves rolled back and a gold-plated Rolex glimmered on one wrist, a chunky gold chain-link bracelet on the other, and something about that on him was distractingly attractive. It all screamed money, despite his casual tracksuit getup, which would’ve been nothing special if it didn’t look so needlessly expensive in itself. You absently wondered what that obscure tattoo on his ring finger meant, for surely it couldn’t imply he might be taken…

“It’s not like you have anything to lose,” Hermes commented, interrupting your line of thought as he set a few chips down on the table and retrieved his own green Cash Card from his pocket, holding it up to show you. So everyone had them; then, what was the point?

Oh, right. You likely couldn’t do anything with the money outside, so, go figure it was an unlimited free pass.

“I guess I’m in. After all, what you gonna do when the chips are down?” you quoted a challenge, holding your own smug look at the recognition in his eyes.

“I see you speak my language…” he teased, “Even if those aren’t exactly my words.”

“Funny you should mention that. Has anyone ever told you you look a bit like Lin-Manuel Miranda?”

“So I’ve been told! Though, I think the correct expression would be that he looks like me. Same difference, he’s me, I’m him, whatever.” He waved a flippant hand, as if instructing you to ask no further questions on the topic.

“Gotcha…” You laughed, putting this all down to a wacky dream by now as you joined him by the card table. “What is this, anyway?” you asked him, raising your goblet in his general direction. He was the only person here without one, which didn’t entirely make sense to you, even in the logic of twisted fever dreams.

“Raise a glass to freedom… and throw it the fuck away,” he sang with a laugh, “Seriously, though, that’s a little addictive psychedelic beverage called blue lotus wine. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t drink a drop.”

“And what if I already did?”

“Well, then you’re well and truly screwed…” Hermes grinned, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. He swiped the half-full glass out of your hand and knocked back the remainder of the wine in one quick gulp, his gaze never leaving yours as he deposited the empty glass on a tray carried away by one of those apparating Barbie waitresses. “And now, so am I.”

He waved over another waitress and grabbed two new glasses of wine off her tray, politely handing one to you. He brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping at the wine as you eyed his hand wrapped around the glass, absently wondering what that seemingly delicate touch would feel like on you… There was no reason why the simple act of this man drinking hallucinatory wine should’ve been remotely sexy, but you could say the same for him in general; this shouldn’t work, but god damn, it does.

“Was that really the best idea if it’s—” you began, and he quickly cut in.

“Absolutely not, no, but if you come here to forget, you may as well do it right…” Hermes sighed, a momentary flash of resignation in his stance as he briefly let his shoulders droop. “Anyway, whatever, fuck real life. Let’s play?” he offered, running a hand through his dark hair, seemingly shaking himself out of the memory of whatever haunting reality had led him here. As a matter of fact, what had led you here?

“Sure,” you smiled, “What are we playing? I’m pretty sure I saw an arcade on my way in…”

“Come on, there’s no stakes in that! This is where the real fun’s at,” he said with a light laugh, gesturing to the craps table in front of you.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll have you know, I’m amazing at air hockey!”

“Yeah? I’m a killer at the claw machine, so go figure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Cute. Shame they don’t have an escape room.”

“Just as well, I’ve always been a little too good with locks… Besides, this place itself is an escape room. Only, there’s no escape…”

“Wait, what?”

“Because… You want to stay, right? What’s waiting for you outside?”

Suddenly, you found yourself struggling to answer his question. Where barely a few moments ago, everything had been so clear, now you could see a hazy cloud inside your mind as you desperately searched for the answer to no avail, almost as though that hallucinogen was beginning to hit hard… 

“Outside? What’s outside? I — I could stay here — You’re… Huh?” you stuttered, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

Hermes sighed, glancing over at you. “Literally anywhere but here.”

“Sorry?” you questioned, brows furrowed. Had you misread his signals?

“Walk with me,” he offered, and so you obliged as he stepped towards you again. You followed his lead as he strolled on within the confines of the casino, glancing surreptitiously around as though making sure you weren’t being eavesdropped on - though you could only wonder why.

“Alright, I don’t normally do this…” he drawled, “But for some reason I’m taking a liking towards you; and all trickery aside, I don’t take unfair advantage, so here’s the secret. You ever heard of Odysseus and the Lotus Eaters?” he asked seriously; you nodded your assurance. “Well, this place is kinda like their island… Only, now it’s here in the modern world, and what better place for it than Sin City? Hence the lightness in the air and the endless supply of blue lotus wine…”

You eyed him curiously, willing him to go on and trying not to focus on his initial confession. “I guess that explains a lot. So this is… eternal psychedelic bliss?”

“Yep, that good old adrenaline and dopamine rush, forever and ever and everrrrr… Half of Olympus has tried to claim it, but nobody really knows whose work of chaotic genius this was.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not at all like he was explaining such an outlandish concept. “When you’re in a casino, time just seems to work differently - and just like that, time moves at its own distorted pace in here. Lost travellers often find their way into this place, it has that draw when you stray off your path - and that’s why I hang out here, not just to wander astray from my own shit, but to guide you back to yours. I’m not immune to this,” he raised his glass, gesturing to the wine, “But I can handle the air just fine, unlike most mortals…”

“And what if I want to get lost?” you challenged, plucking his glass out of his hand, holding his gaze as you brought the drink to your lips. His gaze remained fixed on you as he bit his own lip, his eyes flickering to your lips for a millisecond as you sipped the wine; thirsty, not dissimilar to the way you’d been eyeing him mere seconds ago.

“Mmkay, lucky for you, I have some semblance of sense about me,” Hermes said, stopping by a poker table nearby, where the players immediately cleared a spot for the pair of you. Entirely nonchalant, he swiped a deck of cards off the table, expertly shuffling it as he spoke, “So win the next deal, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“So if I lose, I’m stuck in here?” you attempted to clarify the stakes, trying not to get distracted as you watched him shuffle those cards. Hell, he had such pretty hands, what else could you do but wonder what else he could do with them?

“Pretty much.”

“And what if I ask for a better deal?”

“Better than having your real life back?”

“Yep.”

“Try me…”

“Okay. If I win, my prize is you.”

“Me? What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. Just, you and me, until not even the gods above can separate the two of us,” you teased, peak dramatic, somewhere between flirting and floating. You could get used to this, the weightless feeling of flight…

Hermes quirked a brow at you, undeniably amused. “Interesting thought, given that I’m… well, not above, per se, but one of them.”

“You’re… what now?” You tilted your head to one side, looking curiously across at him. What in the world was he on about?

He shot you a pointed stare, isn’t it obvious? But it wasn’t, until now… when it all began to make sense, slowly: what this place was, how he knew so much about it, why he had a more heightened sense of awareness despite the inherent hypnotism of the literal and metaphorical lotus flower you’d stepped into… And he could guide lost travellers out. Your jaw dropped as your hand flew to your mouth when it finally dawned upon you who and what he was, and what that entailed —

And out loud, all you could manage was a whisper; “Oh, my god…”

The Greek god in front of you heaved a dramatic sigh, aiming a playful eye-roll in your direction. “Please, like I haven’t heard that one before,” he chuckled lightly, the sarcasm heavy in his tone.

And so you let him deal your hand and you played, stopping every so often to laugh, for Hermes was surprisingly fun to be around and perhaps staying here with him wouldn’t be so bad… Only, this couldn’t be his permanent residence. He was the god of travel, it made sense that he never hung around one place long enough to settle. It was obvious he had a natural charisma about him that clearly worked in his favour more than once; and not that it really mattered, but you absently wondered how many like you had crossed paths with him before, and the past baggage he’d been trying to forget was certainly not lost on you…

He had his right arm slung casually around your shoulder, his left occupied by his cards, not caring if you could see them. You tried your level best to stay focused; for you were feeling a little lightheaded by now, a combination of the wine and the strong scent of his cologne… He was close, enough that you could pick up the gentle sweet notes beneath the woody cedar scent he wore.

“All in?” you suggested, nudging your chips toward the centre of the table, glancing up at the literal god beside you.

“I am if you are,” Hermes smirked, pushing his own ridiculous amount of chips into the pot beside yours.

The game went on; and as if out of nowhere, thanks to a sudden turn in your luck and a surprise royal flush - which if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve attributed to him - you had finally won. Caught up in the daze, you stepped up onto your toes and threw your arms around his neck in an excited hug. He was momentarily taken aback by it, but quickly regained enough composure to gently wrap his arms around you. His soft touch bore a pleasantly startling contrast to his mischievous demeanour, and you found yourself not wanting to let go.

“Well played…” he congratulated you in that same teasing tone as he gently drew you back, briefly glancing at his watch and tapping two fingers against the side of the dial.

Perhaps you would’ve wondered why, but spurred on by your victory and high off the adrenaline, you hooked one finger in the gold chain around his neck and gently tugged at it to urge him closer, until the distance between you was barely a hair’s breadth. You could feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, his intense cologne flooding your senses. And suddenly it didn’t faze you that you were in public, and you paid no mind to the way all his casino companions were frozen around you instead of continuing their games… Suddenly, all you wanted was him. 

Was it blasphemous to lust after a god?

Hell, you could deal with the consequences of that later, for right now, his magnetism was pulling you in and you couldn’t bear to look away from those deep, dark brown eyes… Until Hermes leant closer to you and his soft lips brushed yours as he spoke, barely above a whisper yet you could hear him clearly despite the noise, “Not at all…”

Your breathing hitched, at his comment, at his proximity, at… everything about this. How the fuck did he know what you’d been thinking? 

Perhaps you’d dwell on that longer, but just then he reached up to cup your cheek. Though unexpectedly tender, his touch was white hot where his skin met yours, but pleasurably so as you let yourself get lost in it, in him… He pressed his lips to yours in two delicate little pecks, clearly just teasing, and you just about caught sight of his smirk before you stepped up onto your toes to kiss him again, for real this time. His other hand smoothly dropped to your waist, holding you against him and you pulled at his chain with your finger still caught in it, curling your other fist in the soft cotton of his hoodie.

Apparently, even the gods weren’t immune to carnal need, and Hermes was evidently faring no better than you; he gave in to the kiss quickly, all but melting into you, his tongue swiping insistently at your bottom lip, and you weren’t about to stop him. You parted your lips for him, granting him access instead of prolonging this teasing that had left you both desperate. He tasted of something indescribably sweet, mixed with the rich taste of the blue lotus wine that you’d both downed not so long ago, and you already knew he was a far better intoxicant than any drink you’d find here… As he deepened the kiss, his tongue brazenly tasting yours, borderline hungry; you saw a flash of light behind your eyelids, gripped by the feeling that you were flying, all for a mere moment before you became hyperaware of his heated touch and the fact that your feet were still firmly planted on the soft floral-patterned carpet of the casino.

It felt like time had frozen, the world had stopped around you, and nothing mattered except for him and you and the most perfect kiss you’d ever had…

But somehow, instead of clouding your thoughts like you’d expected, you drew back from his kiss with some clarity. Hermes had told you he could never lose. So why, then, had you just managed to win this? You were no expert when it came to these games, and he was clearly a well-seasoned gambling master… Had the notorious trickster god manipulated the deal in your favour? Had he purposely thrown this away for you?

The glimmer in his eyes only looked brighter as you separated, yet somehow those deep browns looked darker, lust clearly getting the better of him; and he made no effort to hide it, despite his small smile and the lightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. You were fairly sure you mirrored it all, and you were in no hurry to let him go…

Only, as the world began to come back into focus, you realised time really had stopped around you: everything and everyone in the casino was frozen, and you glanced up at the god in front of you with a mix of curiosity and fear in your eyes. “When you said you could stop time…” you began, still in disbelief.

Hermes nodded slowly, meeting your gaze with that characteristic smirk. “Yeah, I meant that literally. I may have had a running out of time crisis once, hence… this stolen life-saver,” he explained, raising his wrist to show you his watch - now upon closer inspection, you realised the hour, minute and second hands all pointed to 12, and he hovered a finger over a button at the side of the dial. “It’s up to you. Want me to bring it back?”

You shook your head. Not only did that beautiful gold timepiece look unfairly gorgeous on his wrist; it also held a piece of magic that could be incredibly useful… “No,” you whispered, “I’m in no hurry. Let’s make this last…”

You tilted your chin up towards him again, and he obliged you with another sweet little kiss. “Well, then… Perhaps I could show you some of the wonders of existing beyond space and time…” he murmured, “What d’you say to that?”

“I say, make time stop for us a little longer. Take me to another world, Hermes…”

The look he shot you just then, could’ve brought you to your knees on the spot - somehow you just knew he was fixated on the sound of his name as you whispered it, and you wondered how he could make you feel that just from a simple touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart; let’s get out of here,” Hermes suggested, offering you an arm; you linked your arm through his as he tapped the side of his watch, resuming the world around you as if it had never paused at all. 

You gazed up at him in awe as he led you out of the casino, back to the lobby and towards the opening of the blooming flower you’d walked in through. The humid summer air hit you both as you stepped outside together, thereby breaking the spell - but you were still captivated by him, regardless. He briefly let go of you to do away with his warm hoodie, leaving him in just a fitted white t-shirt that had no business looking so goddamn gorgeous on him.

You couldn’t help but smile as he hummed softly in your ear, “There’s a place I know in a nearby park…”

Part 2 via AO3 (blasphemous smut ahead)

[dedeinthewild]

Heyy would you do prompts 20, 44 and 2 for Marcus Armstrong? Please and thank you💜

it took a while, and I'm really sorry for that! x

marcus armstrong x reader, bestfriends to lovers

 “I might have gone a bit overboard,”

summary : A birthday party, a villa by the beach, and a group of friends who can’t stop teasing each other. Between cooking fails, a poolside dance-off, and some very questionable alcohol choices, Marcus finds himself realizing that sometimes, the best moments are the ones you least expect.

"Remind me why we didn’t book that place you love?" the girl asked as she sliced salmon, a black elastic band wrapping her arm in the crook of her elbow.

"’Cause you cook way better than them," the driver replied.

"Have you ever wondered why they own a restaurant and a massive villa in some tax haven?" she teased, glancing up from the fish to the New Zealander, who was peeling avocados and washing the bowls she handed him.

It was early August, and after spending two weeks at home with his family, the IndyCar driver had decided to celebrate with friends, enjoying a night of fun like he used to as a kid. And what better way than with a load of seafood, a few of his favorite dishes, and good company?

She had filled the house with the kind of aroma only her chaotic cooking could produce—messy enough to make him smile but still his favorite. If anyone had caught Callum Ilott drunk after a bad day, he probably would’ve told them the story of Macau: how, during the famed race, the New Zealander had spent an entire night in a feverish haze, hallucinating about her focaccia.

"Could you just shut up and have a little confidence?" the IndyCar driver grinned at her.

"You’re so complicated, guys," James interjected as he entered through the door, holding two boxes that looked packed with liquor and wine.

"Get that out of this house," the girl gestured dismissively.

"Party," the Brit dragged out the word, savoring every syllable just to annoy her, as he greeted Clem and Marcus.

The house was one of those typical villas with massive glass windows you only ever saw on Mexico’s touristy coast—large dark stone pools, rounded conversation pits, and bedrooms the size of apartments, all in raw concrete or wood. The idea of spending the next two weeks there was, to say the least, enticing.

It had all been a happy coincidence since the New Zealander’s original plan was to celebrate just with his two Screaming Meals co-hosts and the girl. But some old friends from his junior formula days happened to be in Mexico, and he couldn’t not invite them.

"How many are we going to be?" she asked to make sure she’d prepare enough food.

"Me, you—" Marcus began.

"Yeah, that’s it," Clement joked, grabbing a chip from the open bag in front of him with a smirk on his face.

"Oh, screw you," Marcus shot back. "Me, you, them, JM, Mick, and his girl."

The girl nodded, watching as James, with a single-handed motion, pulled off his shirt and made his way toward the pool just outside the living room.

"Want me to help?"

She looked up at Marcus, locking her eyes on his pale ones as a soft smile spread across her lips.

"Alright, I’ll go," he chuckled, knowing how much she hated being helped in the kitchen, even if he felt guilty about leaving her to do all the work.

Once outside one of the sliding doors, sunglasses perched on his nose, he leaned around a column, his enormous white smile on full display.

"Are you a hundred percent sure?"

"Go, Marcus, for god’s sake," she said, the same playful expression on her face as a strand of hair fell across her forehead and she chopped tomatoes with a rhythm that mesmerized him.

"You could’ve just said you wanted to listen to that questionable playlist of yours," he teased.

She watched him walk toward the pool, his t-shirt in one hand, the other scratching the back of his neck, his confident stride practically designed to make him look taller next to shorter people. They were so chaotic.

She was sure the guys would drink themselves into oblivion that night, leaving her to deal with them the next day—herbal teas, paracetamol, and pounding headaches included. But deep down, they were good guys, and since they’d started spending so much time together, she’d had more fun than ever before.

"You and Mick are down to settle?" James asked, sitting in the hot tub corner of the pool with his arms crossed.

"What kind of question is that?"

"There are only two girls tonight," he shrugged.

"I’m really, really sorry that my birthday party won’t be real-life Tinder for you," the New Zealander quipped, bowing mockingly to him with an amused snort.

"Have you ever thought of taking her out?" Clem asked, floating gracefully on the water’s surface, his gaze shifting to the trees that shaded part of the house.

"He did," James answered for him, watching as Marcus leaned against the edge of the pool, his arms spread out and his lips pressed together as he stared into the house.

The glass wall acted like a filter, reflecting their images and the backyard—complete with trees and a vast lawn leading to the beach. But in the transparent sections, he could see her moving occasionally, tasting something with her fingertip or swaying her shoulders to the rhythm of a song she was quietly singing.

"He undoubtedly does," Clement laughed, thinking how clichéd the moment was. If it had been someone else in their place, they’d probably poke fun at it in one of the Screaming Meals episodes.

"You see, I could never, like, think of her romantically," the IndyCar driver said, splashing some water onto his chest and shoulders before wetting his hair. "You know what I mean?"

But she was just a few meters away, wearing her light fabric shorts, her favorite t-shirt, and a sunburnt nose, preparing dinner for the evening and tidying up a bit.

"I don’t know what you mean this time," the Frenchman muttered, maybe a bit more grounded than the Brit.

And perhaps Marcus didn’t know either, something she confirmed about half an hour later when she emerged through the same glass door he’d been watching her through. Now in her swimsuit, she seemed ready to cool off after finishing her preparations.

"All set, birthday boy," she said, easing into the water bit by bit, lowering herself with her arms as her legs slipped into the pool.

"I would marry you," James declared, making her laugh as she soaked her hair, her lips curling into a smile as she closed her eyes and sighed.

"What did you say Mick’s girl was called?" she asked, curious.

"Laila, a Nordic blonde. She’s really nice," the Frenchman answered, having met her by chance at an ELMS race they’d both attended as spectators.

She nodded, instinctively leaning against the pool’s edge, unaware that Marcus’s strong arm was just behind her, ready to drape itself over her shoulders. He kept his hand at a respectful distance, so she’d only feel his presence, a few centimeters from her skin. He mentally traced every freckle, every mole, every imperfection the droplets highlighted. How many times had he thought about how similar they were and how much they had in common, all while he tried to hold together a relationship born under the wrong star and pushed to break into IndyCar?

She let him be the twenty-four-year-old he actually was outside the track, with her bright smile and witty comebacks, while she was simply awkward and adorable.

"What were you saying, Marcus?" the Brit teased before diving underwater.

This place was incredible, and the company even more so.

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this, but Marcus was at a point in his life where he’d let anything happen—friends that made him feel alive, a job that fulfilled him, and a whole lot of passion. So, with a bit of warm air, eyes as blue as water, and forgotten shoes, he was on cloud nine.

"That’s a lot of stuff," he said, looking at the table she’d prepared as the others showered and she dried off with a towel.

"We should celebrate your womb escape for what it is," she smiled, joining him and looking at the table from his angle.

"Did you just call my birthday my 'womb escape'?" he asked, staring at her as she wrapped herself in the towel like it was her cocoon.

"Did I?" she shot back, keeping up the game, a playful smirk on her face.

He leaned in slightly, her familiar scent brushing over him like a caress, as Clement yelled from the bathroom that the body wash had run out.

"I wish they were like you," the New Zealander murmured, smiling against her cheek.

"You don’t, believe me," she replied.

He pressed a gentle, friendly kiss—at least to the untrained eye—just below her ear before disappearing into the bathroom, where he stayed until everyone else arrived.

"That’s what I was thinking about," she joked, seeing him emerge like Bradley Cooper in The Hangover. He wore a white shirt paired with lightweight trousers made of the same material, perfectly complementing his tanned, athletic figure.

"I never disappoint," he shrugged, flashing her a wink.

"After an hour, it’s understandable that you don’t disappoint," she teased, adjusting the final touches on the table, dressed in a black t-shirt and similar lightweight trousers.

"You’re so feisty today," he pretended to pout, stealing a pretzel and turning on the living room lights.

She laughed, leaning against the wall as Clem and James came out, already slightly tipsy before the evening had even begun. Each held four shot glasses, which they placed on the kitchen island.

"You know I don’t drink," she reminded them.

"This is some bullshit without alcohol, smartass," the Brit ruffled her hair, holding up the bottle.

"Almost forgot you’re some liquor connoisseur," she quipped, sniffing the shot glasses’ contents before everyone grabbed one, clinked them against the concrete, and downed them in one go.

"This sucks," Marcus grimaced, his face twisting in disgust as he tried to wash away the taste of the liquor by swallowing repeatedly.

The others laughed, patting him on the back just as the rest of the guys arrived, flashing bright smiles and wearing the carefree expressions of people on vacation who had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

“God, she's gorgeous,” said the girl as she caught sight of Laila approaching.

“Sometimes I think you're way fruitier than you let on,” Clem teased.

“You’re so childish,” she said, giving him a playful punch on the arm before following him to introduce herself to the girl and her boyfriend, whom she hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet.

And maybe she had imagined that, within a couple of hours, they’d all end up sitting together under the villa's patio, alcohol flowing through their veins like transparent blood and laughter echoing in a way that was anything but sober, as the evening began to devour the Mexican coastline. Even in the neighboring houses, parties were in full swing, with loud music, beautiful girls twirling in wide, flowy skirts, and someone serving appetizers that they seemed to enjoy almost as much as their cocktails.

Mick and Marcus were dancing like those girls, trying to mimic their graceful movements but ending up with clumsy moves that made the others laugh, while Clem and the other two guys stayed seated on a sofa, chatting about this and that.

“They’re little kids stuck in grown men’s bodies,” Laila said, handing her a small gift bag. “I thought you’d like a little something.”

She smiled, taking the bag as she leaned against one of the house’s walls, her expression lighthearted and carefree, as if she had no intention of thinking about anything other than enjoying herself and celebrating with the lively group that had suddenly burst into her life.

“That’s so nice of you,” she said gratefully, opening the bag. But before she could reveal its contents, Marcus’s voice cut through the others’.

The speakers set up in the garden were playing a catchy playlist, and there he was, standing in those linen trousers that fit him perfectly, with one of his signature smirks on his face and his piercing eyes looking straight at her with an intensity that could break through any barrier.

His gaze wouldn’t slip past any filter, and above all, it wasn’t just the result of a few too many drinks downed in good company on a day dedicated to celebration.

“Look at her, guys,” he said, an arm slung around Mick’s shoulders, while Mick looked at Laila with concern.

“Who are you talking about?”

Then the blonde girl shifted slightly, revealing the shy yet amused face of Marcus’s friend. She had let her soft, fragrant hair down, letting it fall over her shoulders and partially obscure her face—only to end up accentuating it.

“It’s not like I’m that special,” she laughed toward the German girl, trying to divert attention away from herself.

But Marcus was focused on how she played with the little piece of paper she had pulled from the bag, twirling it between her fingers, and on how she leaned against the wall, feet crossed in front of her, her face slightly lowered, drawing attention to the pendant necklace that stood out against her black shirt.

“I told James not to bring alcohol,” she said, shrugging as she glanced at the other girl, her nose slightly crinkled.

“He means it. I don’t think he’s looking at you like that just because he’s drunk,” said the German girl with an accent that made her smile, noting how perfectly her white dress fit her.

“We always joke around like that. We can’t take anything seriously.” She could have talked for hours about Marcus, about how he was often irreverent and silly, and how he always made her laugh without stopping, finding it hilarious when she cried tears of laughter.

Marcus had always said he’d never see her that way, that he’d never have romantic feelings for her. Yet, that night, she was the main topic of his conversations, and the only gift he seemed to want for his birthday was her voice—bright and cheerful—scolding him when he didn’t tidy up or spent the afternoon asking him how he wanted his tacos.

“I just hope he doesn’t jump into the pool fully clothed or pull one of his dumb tricks,” she laughed, watching the New Zealander approach with open arms.

“You’re not loosening up,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m celebrating in my own way.”

“I want you to tell me if you’re having fun. If not, I’ll kick everyone out.”

She shook her head, once again captivated by his green eyes.

“Don’t worry about me,” she told him, smiling.

A few minutes later, the two women were sitting in the living room, chatting as the girl taught her how to make flower garlands—a skill she had learned from an elderly local woman on their first day there. Between words and smiles, they hadn’t noticed what was happening outside.

“They’re probably at the karaoke phase,” she said with a grin, recalling all the karaoke sessions she’d ended up in with the New Zealander, having the time of her life.

“Mick isn’t exactly the best singer,” the German girl replied, mimicking her hand movements and feeling as if she had found someone quite similar to herself. “How did you and Marcus meet?”

“He gave me a lift to the track, and I didn’t even recognize him at first.”

The blonde raised her eyebrows, holding her garland up before turning around to look at the guys beyond the glass door. But the reflections from inside masked what was happening outside.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it must be Clem’s beach stuff. He always leaves it there,” she replied.

But Laila wasn’t referring to the sandals and straw hat resting near the fireplace, which, of course, they had never lit.

“No, what’s that?” she emphasized the last word, standing up and moving closer to the glass door with a puzzled smile, catching sight of some messy letters.

“I love” was what someone had started writing on the glass.

“Mick’s so cute,” said the other girl, moving closer to her, the garlands they had made draped over her arms.

But the person writing wasn’t Mick. He wasn’t even remotely blonde, nor was he wearing a black polo with blue eyes and silver rings. Outside, there were thick arms, a delicate touch despite the alcohol, and the concentration it had taken to write the letters backward so she could read them from inside.

“You, yes, you” completed the phrase.

Clement and James were standing next to the New Zealander, arms crossed and enormous grins on their faces, while he worked on finishing his masterpiece, likely borrowing something from the nearby partygoers. After adding a heart, they all pressed their faces and hands against the glass, trying to gauge her reaction as her hands trembled slightly under the garlands.

“At least he’s still smart; the letters are in the right order,” the German girl said with a smile.

Their faces squished against the glass made her laugh so hard she had to cover her mouth with her hand, trying to contain herself. The scene was simultaneously ridiculous and adorable. Laila, beside her, watched with an amused smile. “Well, I guess that’s their way of being romantic,” the German girl commented, trying to figure out which one of them was responsible for the message.

But she knew exactly who it was. Those green eyes, so intense, had been fixed on her all evening, leaving no room for doubt. Marcus had always been like that: unpredictable, playful, but with a sweetness that surfaced in the most unexpected moments.

She turned to Laila with a smile that hid a mix of embarrassment and joy. “I think he’s drunk,” she said jokingly, though part of her knew it wasn’t just the alcohol driving him to do such things.

“Oh, honey, drunk or not, that’s a bold move,” Laila replied, giving her a gentle nudge toward the glass door. “Go see what he wants to say.”

She hesitated for a moment, then approached the sliding door, slowly opening it to step outside. The cool evening air brushed against her face, mingling with the sound of the distant sea and the laughter of the others.

Marcus, his hands still dirty from whatever he had used to write, turned toward her with a guilty but hopeful smile. “I might have gone a bit overboard,” he admitted, raising his hands in mock surrender.

She crossed her arms, trying to keep a stern expression, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Only a bit?” she asked, gesturing toward the glass behind him. “Do you plan on cleaning that up later, Mr. Birthday Boy?”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Depends. Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Making you smile.” His voice softened, becoming more serious, and for a moment, his expression changed, revealing something deeper beneath his usual playful facade. “I just… wanted to make sure you know how special you are to me.”

His words hit her like an arrow to the heart. She didn’t know what to say, at least not immediately. She felt her cheeks warm, and for a moment, she lowered her gaze, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“You’re impossible,” she finally said, but her tone was affectionate.

“Why couldn’t you tell me the old-fashioned way?” she asked as Clem and the others left them to their moment, shifting their focus to the cake she had baked for him.

“I thought this was the old-fashioned way,” the New Zealander replied with a smile, towering over her, sunglasses hanging from the open buttons of his shirt and his bare feet on the villa’s tiled floor.

As if realizing that everything was becoming real, she blushed, feeling her heart skip a beat.

“You were right about drinking. I do dumb stuff when I drink.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said with a smile as the driver’s hand reached her cheek, caressing it gently.

Clem peeked out from the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame, a bit of whipped cream in his hair.

“Does that mean I can keep this? It was supposed to be your womb escape gift,” he said, holding up a gray, short-sleeved vintage-style T-shirt with the girl’s name written in large blue letters and her face printed in various sizes and angles.

“Why is everyone calling it ‘womb escape’?” the New Zealander laughed, turning toward the Frenchman.

“So you’re not going to ask anything about the questionable gift?” Juan Manuel said, raising a glass of water to his lips.

Marcus sighed and turned back to her.

“Maybe I should have done this when we were alone.”

“Blame the vodka,” she said with the sweetest, most beautiful smile as he gazed at her with those green eyes she had always loved, even if she had tried to ignore the way they lingered on her.

“You love me too. Admit it,” he teased, running his hands through her hair, brushing it back.

“Unfortunately for my own good, I do.”

I really hope you all have enjoyed it, Marcus has been my first feeder series favourite, and I still have the softest spot for him... if you're watching Indy or are a fan, could you give me some advice to start and facts overall/things to know before starting?🍀

[puppet24361]

I AM GOING TO START WRITING FANFICS!!!

I need some help to know where to start. I'm fine with writing about pretty much anything, but i may only write for characters i know since it's easier on my part. Also, i will strictly only write character x reader fics as that is just what i prefer to write. Also, i apologize that i might not do female characters and may lean more onto the side of male/masculine characters since that's what i prefer to write.

Please don't be shy to request something! I'll pop my rules down below along with some fandoms/characters that i can write for!

RULES

I don't do r@pe, descriptive SA (if the readers' backstory includes that truama, it won't be detailed)

I do not write for specific racial groups or specific appearances as i want all readers to be included

I don't feel comfortable writing (Y/N) as a male/masculine figure. This includes Transmasc and (amab) no matter the gender identity. I apologise, and i have no intention to offend anyone i just don't feel comfortable writing in the perspective of someone i don't have experience as or knowledge in the perspective of.

If i say no, then please don't bug me

If i do not reply, do not spam. I will get to you as soon as i can.

If you have a problem with any of these, then don't interact.

Some fandoms/characters I'll write for

Hamilton

Thomas Jefferson

Marquis de Lafayette

John Luarens

Philip Hamilton

Charles Lee

Alexander Hamilton

(I'll also some of the actors if requested)

Marvel

Bucky (and his other alter egos 👇)

James Buchanan Barnes (40's bucky)

The Winter Solder

Steve Rogers (and his various evolutions)

Loki Laufeyson

Doctor Strange

Peter Parker (specify which one)

Miles Morales

Miles G. Morales (prowler)

Hobie Brown

Harry Potter/Hp Universe

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Newt Scamander

Tom Riddle

Sebastian Sallow

Ominis Gaunt

Garreth Weasley

MHA

Request and you might receive. There are too many characters in mha, so just ask ig.

If you have a character i haven't listed, then don't be afraid to ask. As i said, I'm fine with writing pretty much anything, from hardcore smut to fluff to angst.

Hope people actually see this, lol

[linnamonrolls0]

I love the fact Annabeth pick pockets Hermes... so can you do a reader x Hermes were maybe he taught her to pick pocket and then she pick pockets him to be funny or get his attention?

(I have so many ideas and also none at the same time! Lol I may send one or two more asks if that's ok?)

The Best That You Can Do

LMM!Hermes x Reader

Rating: T / Words: 1,300

You’ll never know why you suggested accompanying Hermes on his mail delivery errands.

The pair of you had spent most of the day flying halfway around the world, and finally landed in midtown Manhattan for your last task: a short visit to Olympus to deliver a disturbingly heavy box. Being by his side, Hermes entrusted you with a pair of winged sneakers similar to his own, and so you’d been able to cross between the realms just as easily under the god’s wing.

To keep things entertaining, Hermes had been giving you a crash-course in thievery along the way, setting you random little pickpocketing challenges and being pleasantly surprised at how quickly you’d picked up his skills, ending up with a box full of random trinkets from every country you’d visited thus far.

It had all been fun at first, but as much as you enjoyed each other’s company, pranks and constant witty banter, being his mail delivery sidekick for the day was starting to wear you out…

See, he took his work seriously. Almost too seriously. You’d tried to distract him once or twice as he’d whisked you from one sky to another, but he’d swatted away your advances and warned you to let him keep focused. But his determination was pretty sexy, and he looked so unfairly attractive in those overalls, you toyed with the idea of getting him out of them… Would a little distraction be so bad?

You’d insisted on stopping for a coffee break before making your way to the Empire State Building, and after rather a lot of convincing, Hermes finally agreed. Now, seated in the passenger seat of his undercover delivery van with your feet up on the dashboard, you nibbled on a cupcake, simply watching him as you sat parked up on the side of the road, while he sipped at his coffee as he chattered away on his caduceus cellphone, tuning out the bickering pair of snakes coiled around it. He looked tired, but still gorgeous as he gave kind but firm orders to whomever was on the other end of the line… No matter how busy a day he’d had, his dark brown eyes always carried that characteristic sparkle that had first got you.

He’d placed his cap on the dash, leaving his hair a little haphazard, only worsening as he wearily dragged a hand through it. You leant over the vehicle’s console and grasped his hand in your own as he finally ended his call.

“Hermes, are you alright?” you murmured, nuzzling at his neck a little.

“Mmm?” he hummed, glancing down at you, only half listening as his phone buzzed on the dash for the millionth time today - you wished that was an exaggeration. “For fuck’s sake… I’m sorry, love, I’m okay. Things have been crazy…”

“I know, babe. Take it easy,” you said softly. You slid across the console and into his lap on the driver’s seat, careful not to knock the gear shift and send the vehicle flying on an accidental joyride up to the heavens. Wouldn’t be the first time today…

Hermes looked up at you, and you willed yourself not to get lost in his eyes. His hands came to rest at your waist and he began on a breath, “What are you…”

“Like you said, it’s been a crazy day, and even a god needs a break sometimes. So it’s a good thing you brought me along…” You placed your hands over his, his gaze following as you trailed your fingers up his arms to grasp the collar of his jumpsuit in your fists. “C’mere…”

You barely caught sight of the flash of hunger in his dark brown eyes as they met yours again, before he caught your lips in a ravenous kiss, and you finally had him exactly where you wanted him. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon and something inexplicably but familiarly sweet; and it took all your willpower not to melt into him, but you were on a mission here.

See, there was only one challenge of his you hadn’t managed thus far: picking his pockets. Every time you thought you had him, he’d whirl around and grasp your wrist between his thumb and index finger, bring your hand to his lips… “Nice try, sweetheart,” he’d smirk, dropping a chaste kiss to the back of your palm, and that was the end of it.

But you kept trying, nonetheless. And while you had him distracted by this increasingly heated kiss in the driver’s seat of his mail van, you slipped your hand into the pockets of his overalls and snuck out his keys from one, his wallet from the other, and into your own pockets… keeping him duly distracted with his tongue engaged in a delicious dance with yours, his hands tucked and bound under your overalls - and he was none the wiser as your hands quickly returned to teasing him, palming him over his overalls in a perfect distraction.

You’d finally done it.

You slowly drew back, satisfied, admiring the sweet, sappy smile on his handsome face. He certainly looked a little more relaxed, and that could hardly be a bad thing… “Better?” you teased.

Hermes nodded, slowly licking his own lips now that yours were too far. “A little. C’mon, let’s get this last delivery done, then we can go finish what you just started…”

He withdrew his hands from under your overalls and instead began searching his multitude of pockets around for his keys to start up the van. You struggled to stifle a laugh as he grew increasingly frantic.

“Missing something, babe?”

He raised his brows at you, evidently having caught on that you were up to no good. “I don’t suppose you know where my keys are… do you?”

You shook your head, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes - but you couldn’t keep from cracking a smile.

“You little…” Hermes laughed, cursing under his breath as he quickly circled his arms around your waist and patted down your pockets, “Ah, gotcha.” You pouted as he plucked his missing belongings out of your pockets, reclaiming his wallet and reaching around you to turn the key in the vehicle’s ignition, the sudden vibration caused by its enchanted engine sending a shiver through the both of you.

“C’mon, you could’ve at least pretended you didn’t know!” you protested with a playful whack to his chest.

“I didn’t!” he argued, keeping his tone as light as yours, “Not until you smiled, anyway.” You rolled your eyes, shooting that same smirk at him. “But just like that, the student becomes the master. Can’t lie, I’m a little proud of you.”

“Please, Hermes. Your wallet and keys were a piece of cake - as was this piece of cake, actually.” You mirrored his playful tone and your innuendo wasn’t lost on him as you suggestively eyed him up, grabbing the cupcake off the dash and feeding him a little bite. He smashed a blob of frosting onto his mouth and pulled you in for a sugar-coated kiss, delicately sucking and biting at your lips.

“Maybe I should set you a harder challenge,” he said on a breath, flushed from the kiss.

“Like what?” you asked, teasingly licking away a bit of frosting below his lip.

He shifted beneath you, and his innuendo wasn’t lost on you either. “Let me think…”

“Let me steal your heart,” you giggled, “Will you take me seriously then?”

“Oh, that… Stealing hearts is an entirely different sort of trickery.” He winked, “And you had mine long before any of these trinkets…”

You blushed beet red at the god’s bold confession as he shifted the van into gear, hyper-speeding off down the street towards the Empire State Building, your heart racing even faster.

[piheongg]

I'm Yours (Neuller)

request by @scarlettlovemuller

The Bayern Munich training ground was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pitch. Most of the team had already headed to the showers, but Thomas Müller lingered, juggling a ball with that familiar, boyish grin. You watched from the sidelines, your heart skipping as his eyes flicked toward you, playful and warm.

Manuel Neuer, still in his goalkeeper gloves, leaned against the goalpost, watching Thomas with a mix of amusement and something deeper—something that made your chest ache with how obvious their connection was. The air felt charged, like it always did when they were near each other.

“Tommy, you gonna keep showing off or actually pass the ball?” Manuel called, his deep voice carrying a teasing edge.

Thomas laughed, his messy hair falling into his eyes as he kicked the ball toward Manuel—not a shot, just a gentle lob, like an invitation. “Only if you say ‘pretty please’ first, Manu.”

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning forward on the bench. Their banter was effortless, a dance they’d perfected over years of shared victories and quiet moments. But today, there was something else—a tension, unspoken but heavy.

Manuel caught the ball, spinning it on his finger like a basketball before tossing it aside. He peeled off his gloves, his movements deliberate, and walked toward Thomas. “You’re impossible,” he said, but his tone was soft, almost reverent.

Thomas tilted his head, that grin softening into something vulnerable. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You held your breath, feeling like an intruder on a moment too intimate for witnesses. Manuel stopped just inches from Thomas, his height casting a shadow over the smaller man. For once, Thomas didn’t crack a joke. He just looked up at Manuel, his eyes searching.

“Manu,” Thomas said quietly, barely audible from where you sat. “I’m yours. You know that, right?”

The words hung in the air, raw and unguarded. Manuel’s expression faltered, his usual stoic mask slipping. He reached out, his hand grazing Thomas’s arm, then settling there, firm and grounding.

“Tommy…” Manuel’s voice was low, rough with emotion. “You’ve always been mine.”

Your heart thudded as they stood there, the world shrinking to just them. Thomas stepped closer, closing the gap, and for a moment, you thought they might forget you were watching. But then Thomas glanced your way, his grin returning, softer now, like he was letting you in on their secret.

“C’mon,” he said, jerking his head toward you. “Let’s get outta here. All three of us.”

Manuel’s gaze followed, his eyes warm as they met yours. “Yeah,” he agreed, his hand still on Thomas’s arm. “Together.”

You stood, your pulse racing as you joined them, feeling the weight of their words—I’m yours—echo in the space between you all.

[sugakookie78]

Instagram Posts (Instagram AU)

Posts that either you or the drivers post about your relationship.

Pairing: Group 2:

Post 1: Max Verstappen x Reader

Post 2: Esteban Ocon x Reader

Post 3: Logan Sargeant x Reader

Post 4: Juan Manuel Correa x Reader

Pictures are from Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest

@/Y/N.Y/L "Ocean blue eyes looking in mine"

Tagged @/maxverstappen1

Liked by @/maxverstappen1, @/danielricciardo, and 32,587 others

maxverstappen1 "Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts"

Y/N.Y/L "You're so gorgeous"

user1 Max and Y/N are swifties? Confirmed?

danielricciardo Yes, Max especially. Ever since he learned Y/N liked her, he's been listening to all of Taylor's music

maxverstappen1 Daniel! That was supposed to be a surprise!

danielricciardo Oops... Sorry...

Y/N.Y/L Really, @/maxverstappen1?

maxverstappen1 Yeah... It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday, but the cat's out of the bag

@/Y/N.Y/L Photos I get when I say "Estie, smile"

Tagged @/estebanocon

Liked by @/estebanocon, @/mickschumacher, and 14,862 others

estebanocon I always smile with you! :) <3

Y/N.Y/L I love you so much!

estebanocon Love you!

user1 That is adorable!

mickschumacher Estie! :)

estebanocon Mick! :)

user2 Estie Bestie!

@/Y/N.Y/L My workout - Logi's workout - What I looked like immediately as I got home after

Tagged @/logansargeant

Liked by @/logansargeant, @/yourbestfriend, and 15,973 others

logansargeant You looked a lot cuter than I did

Y/N.Y/L Thanks, babe <3

user1 New saying? Couples who go to the gym together, stay together?

yourbestfriend Gorgeous! And I'm glad I'm not the only one who always passed out as soon as I get home

Y/N.Y/L You are too! Yeah, it happens to me all the time

user2 Logan girlies (gn) get more content!

user3 Thank you, Y/N!

@/Y/N.Y/L Dinner date to football games

Tagged @/juanmanuel

Liked by @/juanmanuel, @/yourbestfriend, and 15,972 others

juanmanuel Thank you for joining me. Love you <3

Y/N.Y/L Love you too <3

user1 That is adorable

yourbestfriend Did they win?

Y/N.Y/L Yes, they did

yourbestfriend Woo! I win!

[phoebeegreen3]

Welcome to me!

Ok, i'll need some time to understand how to use tumblr properly, but basically i'm a wattpad writer and a f1 fangirl that it's so delulu that i can't just keep my words to myself. As you may realize at this point, english is not my first lenguaje, but i'm honor to say that i can handle it very well. I don't want to bore anyone here, so... this is it. Asap i'll be publishing Capri Persson, my very loved fanfic form Wattpad, so i guess i see you there -for whoever i'm speaking to.

Things you may want to know about me:

I'm a huge F1 fan (kinda obsessed)

I write stories since i'm 12, probably 11

My favorite F1 driver has always been my beloved, Danny Ric, aka honey badger, aka Daniel Ricciardo.

(i need to stop to talk about f1 for a second) I LOVE TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT (i realize now that i love everything to much)

I'm a cancer baby, so dramatic, such a cry baby, but... very sensitive too (maybe too much)

There's any Little Women fans out there? i'm right here for you

I'm a journalist in my normal life (i'm hannah montana too)

Like you might notice, my whole personality it's based on loving everything very much, and i'm glad to say that it is always been like that. This is the most important thing you had to know about me.

Oh, and my favorite song of all time is...

If you still have questions about your new favorite fanfic writer, i'll be glad to answer everything in the comments (or it's on the comments? f*ck)

Ok, i've stop talking. That's all...

for now.

Love y'all