#because he wants to be definitively better than the Hulk

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #253

[bucksangel]

Honeysuckle

pairing: alpha!steve x alpha!bucky, alpha!steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly) - omegaverse!au pt. 3

word count: 4k

summary: “Honey,” Bucky sighs wistfully, falling into your embrace while Steve stands behind you with his arms around your waist and helping you not fall over under Bucky’s hulking frame. You don’t mind though, you’d happily die by being crushed under their weight if it meant you could touch them, and have them touch you. Caressing you, kissing you, adoring you the way only they can. And despite your earlier hesitation, you wouldn’t pass up the chance to brighten up your Alphas day for anything. And their grateful kisses and pleased rumbles let you know that you did just that.

or - your Alphas take such good care of you. their mere presence brightens up your day, so when your Alphas have a rough day you take it upon yourself to show them how good of an Omega you can be, that you can provide for them too.

warnings: 18+, mild suggestive thoughts, i apologize to ur dentists bc there’s so much fluff it might give you a toothache, omega is very shy and awkward but steve and bucky are fond and patient, fluff, kissing, tw for steve using 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, tiny bit of hurt/comfort, bucky needs some lovin’

a/n: this is dedicated to the loml @buckysbarne and @buckysprettybaby who also helped beta <3

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar

“Babe -“ Bucky sighs, his head hanging low and hands clenched into tight fists. “I’ll be okay.”

Steve huffs, walking up to his boyfriend and wrapping one arm around his Alphas waist, cupping his cheek with his other hand.

“It’s okay, she’ll understand,” Steve whispers softly, leaning forward and placing a delicate kiss on his mate’s forehead before pulling back and guiding Bucky to look up at him. He quickly dips his head to kiss Bucky’s lips.

“What if she doesn’t?” Bucky mumbles, shame and embarrassment flooding his body.

Why can’t he just be normal?

The day started horribly; Bucky woke up at around seven in the morning from a particularly harrowing nightmare. He hasn’t had one of those in a while, so it was very unwelcoming. This one, unlike other nightmares he’s had, was terrifying in a way he’d never felt.

He knows they’re gone, that Hydra and its agents have been obliterated, but that doesn’t mean Bucky doesn’t occasionally get anxious over the ‘what ifs’ of any potential harm Steve could go through should Hydra get him.

This ‘what if’ manifested in the form of you getting captured too. Even if he and Steve haven’t mated with you yet, they both know in their bones that you were crafted by any gods that exist to complete them. And the thought of you and Steve getting taken from him is far worse than anything Hydra could ever do to him.

Steve had to shake him awake, and he hadn’t been able to stop crying long enough to explain what had happened. After ten minutes of shaking and sobbing into his mate’s chest, he was finally able to articulate the horrifying images that now plague his mind, Steve had held him close, and he had kissed his cheeks and forehead and hairline, all while cooing words of affirmation and love.

The day only got worse from there. After the dream, it started with small things; he burned his hand while trying to make coffee - then spilled the coffee all over his favorite shirt. He ran out of his shampoo and had to use Steve’s - and, listen, Bucky is fully convinced that he survived Hydra because the universe wanted them together again, but Steve could definitely use some better shower products. The whole ‘two-in-one’ thing just doesn’t cut it for Bucky.

But then they had to meet up with their teammates for a briefing over a mission that Bucky is really not excited about, and found out the original one-day mission was going to be three days. Three whole days without you? Luckily Steve is coming with him, but then he thought about you being without both of them and started getting anxious. Now, even though you all haven’t been together for long, and they both know you can handle yourself, they detest the idea of leaving you for an extended period.

They’d managed to sneak in a few texts to you. Wishing you a good day at work, sending heart emojis when you send them a picture of a cute dog you saw while walking to the studio - Sam and Natasha spent a long time trying to get the men to understand modern language - and sending you pictures of them while they were too bored to listen to Tony talk.

But then they went to a coffee shop intending to grab their coffee and rush back to their apartment to get a few things so they could pick you up from work and take you to the new ice cream shop that opened up a few blocks from your studio. Dark clouds came rushing overhead while they were waiting for their drinks, and they decided to wait out the storm in a corner booth.

But people were staring, giving them - mainly Bucky - nervous glances, and a few people at the table next to them ate quicker than someone usually would and then placed a wad of cash on the table before rushing out.

Suddenly the idea of getting ice cream doesn’t sound so appealing.

Steve noticed because he’s so attuned to his mate that he knows Bucky is dejected, Bucky is hurt, he’s tired. Tired of people still judging him. Tired of being accused of things that he had no control over. They didn’t stay long, deciding that getting soaked while racing home was better than being in a place that’s now making Bucky feel unsafe.

Bucky’s been fighting with himself ever since they got home and changed out of their wet clothes. He wants to spend time with you more than anything, and you’ve been excited about this date ever since they told you, and Bucky will be damned if he doesn’t give you anything you want. But he really doesn’t think he can handle being in public right now.

His body is hurting with how bad he’s trying to force the negativity out of his mind enough so he can enjoy being with you, but it’s hard. And Steve telling him that you’ll understand that he can’t go out breaks him. His fists clench tighter.

Bucky wants to be normal for you. He wants to go out with his mates and not get worried about getting less-than-friendly looks at the three of you.

“I’m going to call her,” Steve says calmly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pulling him in tight while Bucky’s body starts to shake with how badly he wants to cry. “I’ll call her and I’ll tell her that you’re not feeling well, but we’ll go to her studio tomorrow for lunch. Okay?”

Bucky takes a deep, shaky breath before nodding, trying his hardest to not blame himself when he imagines the look on your face as Steve tells you they have to cancel. Steve kisses his mate's forehead and then untangles himself so he can get his phone.

It doesn’t take long for you to answer, and Bucky can hear your chipper “Hi Stevie!” and suddenly he wants to cry harder. He also hears Steve telling you that Bucky isn’t feeling well and that they’ll come visit you tomorrow. You go quiet for a moment before asking Steve to pass the phone to your other Alpha. And when Bucky mumbles, “Hey, honey,” he knows you can hear that he’s holding back tears.

“Hi, Alpha,” Your sweet voice immediately fills him with warmth, images of your smile filling his head. “You’re not feeling well?”

“No,” Bucky clears his throat, trying to force himself to not feel bad about it. “I’m really sorry, honey. I promise we’ll make it up to you.”

You pause, and suddenly Bucky is worried that you’re mad. But before his mind can spiral into more negative thoughts, your voice - soft and shy - asks if he’s home. And when he tells you that he is, you simply say “good,” and then hang up.

Well, fuck. Bucky tries to convince himself that you’re not upset, but Steve can see that it’s not working well. And at his boyfriend's suggestion of a nap, he trudges upstairs, lying down in bed and wishing upon every star in the universe that you’ll forgive him.

____________

When you heard that Bucky wasn’t feeling well you immediately thought of the worst. Is he sick? Well, that doesn’t make sense, he’s a super soldier after all. Is he hurt? That’s a possibility, their jobs are tough.

Does he… not want to see you? As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you dismiss it. Bucky and Steve have shown over and over that they like you and want to be with you. The word ‘love’ flashes through your mind but you dismiss that as well. It’s too soon, right?

No matter what’s actually going on, you know you need to make him feel better. As soon as you hung up the phone you gathered everything you needed to make apple pies. But then you faltered, what if he doesn’t like apple pie? Well, you have things to make brownies, and you know both Alphas love them. So you took out everything needed to make brownies with the intention of bringing them over when they were done.

But then a thought popped up. Would they even want you in their house? There were a few times when you told them they could come inside your apartment while you finished getting ready for a date night, but they politely declined. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now you’re worried you might be crossing a line.

You’ve just put the mixture in the oven when you decide that you’ll just drop them off and then leave. You don’t want to make them uncomfortable, especially since Bucky isn’t feeling well. While the brownies cook, you run to your bedroom to change into somewhat presentable clothes. You don’t bother getting all dressed up since you’re not going anywhere but your Alphas’ place, and even then you won’t be staying long.

By the time the dessert is done and put into a container, you’ve talked yourself in and out of going several times. Finally, after several minutes of having a mild freak-out, you gather the courage to gather your things and get in your car.

The entire drive has you a little on edge, though you know you have to do it. Not necessarily out of obligation, but because you want to make your Alpha’s happy. They’re always doing little things for you; buying you new plush blankets, getting you food on their way to visit your studio, Steve had even given you a sweater that both he and Bucky regularly wear - fully knowing and hoping you’ll use it for your nest.

Those men make you happier than anyone else ever could, you relish in their praise, your whole body lit up in flames whenever they get all sweet on you - which is all the time, neither man can resist kissing you, hugging you, telling you how you’re the sweetest Omega to ever exist.

They make you happy, and you will do everything you can to make them happy too. You want to be the perfect Omega for them, to show them that you can provide for them too, and that thought is what fuels you to park outside of their house and gather everything.

Your confidence wanes when you get to the front door, anxious again that the Alphas would be upset that you came over. You don’t even get a chance to think about leaving because the door opens wide, and Steve stands there with a smile.

“Honey,” He says, giving you that same longing gaze he always gives you. His eyes travel down to the container you’re holding, his smile growing wider while you cast your eyes down to the floor nervously. “What is that?”

A part of you wants to laugh, you know his heightened sense of smell can already figure it out. You don’t though, you merely shuffle on the porch nervously.

“W-Well I - um… I know Bucky isn’t feeling well, and I wanted to drop off some brownies for you guys.” Your eyes suddenly go wide, a small panicked noise leaving your lips. “Which I just now realized is probably not a good thing for Bucky to eat right now.”

You kind of want to smack your forehead. You were so focused on trying to be helpful that you didn’t even think of what would actually help Bucky feel better. Sensing your growing panic, Steve hums softly, reaching out and taking the dessert from your hands.

“That’s really sweet, honey,” Steve purrs, transferring the container to one hand so he can take your hand in his free one. “Thank you.”

An unexpected squeak leaves your lips, warmth filling your body as you squeeze Steve’s hand and smile up at him shyly.

“Y-You’re welcome, Stevie.” Your voice is soft, nearly indiscernible except for your Alpha with his advanced hearing. “Um, just… I guess you can text me later and tell me how they taste?” It’s phrased as an uncertain question because you don’t want to make him feel like he has to, but you desperately hope he does. You need their praise more than air.

“You’re not staying?”

That question has your head snapping up so you can look at him directly, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you take in his equally confused gaze.

“I - um. I guess I just thought you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you never want to come in my house, so I just figured you wouldn’t want me in yours.” Your voice comes out shakier than you’d like, and the hope that he’d invite you in is creeping up. “Which is fine! You - you don’t have to, and I don’t want to make you guys uncomfortable, especially since Bucky isn’t feeling well.”

Steve sighs, his scent souring a little as though he’s disappointed, and now you’re anxious over possibly saying something wrong. But when he senses your growing panic, he tugs on your hand until you follow him inside. And immediately, the aroma of both Bucky and Steve’s scent calms you down.

“Of course we want you here, sweet Omega.” Steve smiles at you again, pulling you further into the house until you get to the kitchen not far from the entryway. He drops your hand so he can place the food on the counter. The Alpha quickly moves toward you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you into his chest. Plush, soft lips land on the top of your head, and they linger there for a few moments.

As though he sensed your arrival, Bucky comes rushing into the kitchen with a wide smile.

“Omega,” He says, walking toward you and Steve with purpose so he can wrap around you too.

“Our sweet girl brought us some brownies since you aren’t feeling well.” You can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, and they both release their hold on you so you can turn around and face Bucky.

Bucky goes silent, and when you place your hands on his chest you can feel how his heart rate picks up. And after a few moments of simply staring into your eyes, his smile softens, his body relaxing.

“Oh, honey,” Bucky sighs wistfully, falling into your embrace while Steve stands behind you with his arms around your waist and helping you not fall over under Bucky’s hulking frame. You don’t mind though, you’d happily die by being crushed under their weight if it meant you could touch them, and have them touch you. Caressing you, kissing you, adoring you the way only they can. And despite your earlier hesitation, you wouldn’t pass up the chance to brighten up your Alphas’ day for anything. And their grateful kisses and pleased rumbles let you know that you did just that.

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbles into your neck as he presses soft and chaste kisses to the area. “You’re perfect.”

You can’t help the nervous chuckle that passes through your lips, nor can you stop yourself from shaking your head, immediately trying to deny it. While you love praise, specifically theirs, you don’t really feel like you deserve it sometimes. How can these two perfect Alpha’s possibly be interested in you? You’re not too sure why they like you, but you try not to think too hard about it. You don’t want to overthink everything and spiral into self-doubt, which would then lead you to sabotage the relationship, and you absolutely don’t want that.

“I-It’s nothing, really. I just want to make you feel better.” Your voice is small and shy, and you cast your eyes downward when Bucky pulls away from you to look at you with such intensity that it makes your entire body go warm. Your heartbeat speeds up when Steve steps back too and moves so he can stand beside Bucky and look at you directly.

“It’s not nothing, baby,” Steve sighs, reaching out and placing a large hand on the back of your neck and turning your head upwards so he can hold your gaze, and it’s absolutely impossible to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine. Oh, how you want to feel his hands on… other parts of your body.

“It’s thoughtful,” Bucky adds, lightly squeezing your hips. “We mean it; thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” You say softly, smiling at both of them and reaching out to place your hands on each Alpha’s chests. In a quick and bold move, you lean up on your toes to place a gentle kiss on Steve’s lips, then move over to Bucky.

Bucky, however, decides a single peck isn’t enough. Steve keeps his hand on the back of your neck and angles your head so it’s easier for Bucky to slide his tongue along your bottom lip and take advantage of your surprised squeak by slipping his tongue into your mouth. He swallows your little gasps and sighs, snaking his arms around your waist to pull your body flush against his.

The intensity of the kiss comes to a halt when Steve’s stomach rumbles. You and Bucky break apart with breathless chuckles, turning to look at Steve’s sheepish expression.

“Sorry,” He laughs, sliding his hand from your neck to the side of your face, and he smiles wider when you nuzzle and kiss his palm. “We haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“I can cook for you!” You say quickly, surprised with yourself by how fast you were to offer. You’re not the best cook, but depending on what food they have you’re pretty sure you whip up something presentable. Plus, your inner Omega is just aching to please them.

“You don’t need to do that, honey,” Bucky says, stepping back but keeping one hand on your back. “We can just order something.”

“Please?” You ask softly, smiling up at him and using the fact that he can never say no to your pout to your advantage. “I want to.”

Both men sigh, fully knowing that they could never deny you anything you want. So, they both nod, stepping aside so you can go to their fridge.

“You can just make something easy, it doesn’t matter to us.” Steve kisses your forehead, then smiles as he turns to look at Bucky while you go about finding something to cook. Pulling him in close, Steve quickly kisses Bucky’s lips and murmurs, “Told ya she’d understand.”

____________

“Told ya she’d understand.”

Steve chuckles when Bucky playfully shoves his elbow into his Alpha’s stomach. And Steve absolutely cannot stop himself from kissing Bucky again. And one more time. He can’t help it though, Bucky was feeling so awful earlier, and seeing his genuine smile and sparkling eyes fills him with happiness.

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky mumbles with a playful roll of his eyes, wiggling out of Steve’s hold so he can go sit at the kitchen island. Steve follows him, muttering “jerk” low under his breath as he sits next to Bucky.

The two men sit side by side, both with love-stricken gazes and twinkling eyes as they watch you flit around the kitchen happily, grabbing things here and there. They aren’t too sure what exactly you’re making, but it starts smelling good in no time. But the underlying scent of happiness coming from all three of you is what really strikes Bucky’s heart.

And in no time at all the food has been finished, and you make sure to pile their plates full of the food.

“I know spaghetti is boring, but I added a few spices so I hope you like it.” Your voice is soft and shy as you present them with their plates, and your rapidly beating heart showcases your nerves. You’re desperately hoping they like it - maybe praise you a bit for taking care of them.

“We’ll love it,” Steve says quickly, getting off the chair and walking up to you with a wide smile. “We’ll love anything you make us, honey.”

The squeak you let out makes both Alphas chuckle, giving you such soft gazes that makes you want to bare your neck to them in submission. With that, Steve and Bucky take their food and guide you to the couch in the living room, being careful as they sit down while Bucky pulls you into his lap.

They take time eating, occasionally feeding you despite your assurances that you already ate before you came over. They don’t care though, because they’ll be damned if they don’t dote on you for making them feel better.

And when the food has been eaten, Bucky gives you a glare when you offer to do dishes. “You’ve worked hard enough, honey,” Bucky tells you, wrapping his arms tighter around you to keep you in place.

It’s at that moment that Bucky realizes that this, the three of you under one roof, on one couch, is what home is for him. With you in his lap and Steve cuddled into his side, he knows that he’s the luckiest guy in the world, how can’t he be? He has his Alpha; the greatest love of his life, and you; the sweetest Omega to ever exist who’s teaching Bucky how to be happy in ways he never thought possible.

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until you make a slightly distressed sound, your hands coming up to cup his cheek.

“Buck?” Steve coos, bringing up a hand so he can run his finger through his mate’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky sniffles, shaking his head as he wipes his eyes, then takes hold of one of your hands so he can kiss your knuckles. He smiles, so soft and sweet and innocent, smiling wider when Steve presses a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s stupid,” Bucky says with a quiet huff and shrugs. “I just… Today was shit, like, awful. And I’ve been happy all these years with Steve by my side, but other than right now, the only time I can remember feeling this happy was when I was finally reunited with him.”

Bucky briefly glances over at Steve, giving him that soft and adoring look he always gives him, then looks back at you and holds your gaze.

“You make me happy, Omega.”

Your eyes go wide, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Because, while you don’t know everything about what’s transpired in their lives and relationship, you know that it must be a pretty big deal for him to say this. And it fills you with a feeling dangerously close to love, but you can’t help it. Bucky’s been through the depths of hell and back, and he deserves everything good in the world. And you being able to give him some of that goodness just makes you want to cry.

“You-“ You cut yourself off, clearing your throat to suppress the waver in your voice. “You make me happy too. Both of you.”

“Good, Omega,” Steve purrs, reaching across Bucky to give you a tender kiss.

And when you break away from Steve, you turn to give Bucky a kiss as well, and Bucky? Well, Bucky is pretty sure (re: totally confident) that he loves you. He knows Steve does too, which makes everything easier. Knowing that they’re on the same page about their feelings for you gives him reassurance that maybe this could work out.

He wants to mate with you, he wants to be with you in every way possible. And when you pull away and smile at your Alphas with that sweet and tender way you always do, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, you want that too.

So who can really blame him when Bucky asks, “Will you mate with us?”

From next to him, Steve doesn’t visibly react, though his heartbeat speeding up and the flush creeping up on his face tells Bucky that he wants that too - they’ve also spoken about it in length, so he knows he’s not just speaking for himself.

All the two men can do now is wait for your answer with bated breaths. It comes only a half of a second later.

“Of course.”

m&h masterlist: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @perdidosbucky-yyo / @wckedheart / @kandis-mom / @wandaneedstherapy / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @venusfly11 / @buckybarnesmetalarmswife775 / @the-photo-hoe / @matsumama / @fandoms-writings / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @stuckysbike / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @monicachic13 / @akmenia / @shawnftjacob / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @matchat3a  / @mollygetssherlockcoffee / @normalgirlnextdoor / @lolitsbuckybarnes / @rippedpiece / @biteofcherry

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @goldylions / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Hello hello!!! I have another request for the Mutefemreader with ghost if that’s okay. She gets paired with him to spar because all the other soldiers already have their partners. And she’s just like 🥲”oh god.” But after a bit of sparring theres ✨Tension~✨

Thank you! Love ur work sm 🎊🎊🎊💞💞

Thank you! Hmmm yess I love this @thedevillovesflowers ❤️

Also so sorry for how this took thank you for being patient ❤️

Fiery Touch

Warnings: suggestive, tension, mdni (18+ just to be safe)

Words: 3.7k

Readers call sign is “Quiet”

I'm not good at writing action scenes yet lol

Dread and a bruised ego is definitely what you would use to describe the current feelings going through you at this moment. Those things combined together were enough to make you feel too exhausted to continue to train even though you started not even an hour ago. 

It was Price’s fault. You didn’t dare outwardly blame him but you couldn’t help but send him sharp looks from the corner of your eye across the training room as you stood with your arms crossed over your chest. You were waiting for Ghost, hoping that he wouldn’t show but knowing that the man never missed training even if he had been injured. 

Ghost was your training partner, or more like you were Ghost’s, but Price had paired you up more than enough times to make it so you were stuck together. On normal days it didn’t matter, you both spotted each other when you lifted weights and helped keep each other on task when exercising. He was surprisingly a good motivator and though he didn’t need your encouragement, you still gave it to him.

You two made pretty good partners and you had noticed that since you had been paired up together, you’ve gained some muscles. Ghost being a good workout buddy was just one more thing added to the list of things that you liked about him.

Today however, was not a normal day. Today you were doing something you’ve come to dislike since you’ve joined the task force.

Sparring.

You had been the best at sparring in your old regiment. No one could match your agility and your ability to always find a weak point in your opponent which may have made you a little too proud in your abilities. Now you felt like your skills weren’t even passable, almost being as bad as a rookie’s, and it was because of the man who finally walked through the doors of the training room.

Despite Ghost’s size, he was agile and quick on his feet enough to where it seemed like he had predicted your moves before you even thought about them. He had strength from the hulk of muscles and body mass he had which made his punches staggering. And worst of all for you, Ghost had no weak points.

You had tried everything to find it but there was nothing that would work. He deflected every try like swatting a fly away, like it was merely a minor inconvenience to him. He never reacted to your attempts and instead retaliated with his own ways of exploiting your weakness. He never failed to knock you down or to pin you to the mat which bruised your ego but fueled his.

You’d take your defeat in stride if it weren’t for the fact that he gloated when you lost. 

Not only did he rub it in your face with words but you could always tell he had a smug look on his face by the way he looked at you. He never tried to hide it and unfortunately for him his eyes were too expressive to even attempt that, though it seemed like he wanted you to see the way he looked at you. Proud, high off the strength he just displayed and so happy to remind you that you’ll never be as good as him.

It pissed you off and you knew that the reason you were always paired up with him was to get you to be better than you were.

“What’s with the look, sergeant?” Ghost wondered as he came up to you and that was when you realized you had been glaring at him. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“Just thinking about how I’m going to beat your ass.” You shrugged nonchalantly and he tilted his head.

There was a twinkle in his eyes that for anyone else could’ve been seen as condescending but you could tell that he was both equally amused and intrigued by your determination. His eyes squinted ever so slightly, a sign that he was smiling as he looked you up and down, slowly carving away at that false confidence with his burning stare.

Did he enjoy knocking you down a peg? You weren’t arrogant, in fact you rarely ever spoke about your abilities to anyone but it seemed like Ghost found happiness in beating you. 

Maybe he was competitive or maybe he was just teasing you. It could also be because he wanted you to get better but you never remembered to ask.

“Cheeky.” He stepped forward, pushing himself into your space as he looked down his masked nose at you. “But can you live up to those words?”

You stared up at him, your bodies close enough that you could see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. You knew he was trying to playfully intimidate you, hoping that you take the bait and give him a little bit of banter to work with before you both started, but he was doing something completely different to you.

Ghost was big. Everyone knew this and it wasn’t hard to miss but being up this close to him was uncommon. You had never paid attention to the way he would sometimes wander into your space and stay there, looming over your shoulder from behind since you were so used to being around him already. But being face to face with him, so close that you were sure if you could see his face you’d be able to pick out the details of it really put into perspective just how big he really was.

The muscles in his arms were visible to you since he was wearing a shirt that had the sleeves cut off of it and was also rather tight fitting. While you could see muscles on his torso, you could tell that he was toned but still somehow kept a lot of the bulk from fat on his body as well. You could see some of the scars he had on his arm, the veins that ran across the very large muscles that he had gained from years of working. 

You couldn’t help but ogle at him despite the fact that Ghost was watching you. Ever since your first mission together, it was hard to ignore how your feelings had changed towards him and that came with how you saw him physically.

You weren’t sure what the feelings were, it was too early to tell. However, whatever it was, it was taking over your mind with…inappropriate thoughts about your lieutenant.

Sometimes you couldn’t help but think about how his hand fit perfectly into yours or how you really liked the way he looked at you as if he was seeing who you were, past the silence and the sign language. The hurt woman that he saw in the cabin, but it wasn’t bad, it was almost like he was acknowledging that he understood you.

And then there were the other thoughts, the ones that crept into your mind at the dark hours of the night when you were alone in your room.

You blinked them away before they even appeared and tried to regain your cockiness. 

“Fight me and find out.” You flashed him a smile and you saw his eyes bounce down to your lips for a split second.

“Get on the mat.” He demanded and you nodded.

You stepped on the mat, stretching your arms and shoulder as you prepared to put up a fight against your lieutenant. You were determined to win this time, to prove to your lieutenant that you were an excellent fighter and that it didn’t matter if he was larger than you or stronger. You belonged in the task force and even if he never made you feel unwelcome, you still felt the need to prove it.

Ghost stood in front of you, shoulders squared and his arms to his side as he waited for you to get ready. He stared at you with narrowed eyes full of determination and a seriousness that came from his title.

You ignored his scrutiny and took a deep breath, grounding yourself to the mat before you gave him a hard stare that signaled that you were ready for whatever was in store.

As soon as you got into a fighting stance, Ghost struck first. He didn’t give you a chance to react as pushed you hard against your shoulder and swept your leg out from under you, causing your back to hit the mat with a loud thump.

“Too slow.” He shook his head as he stood over you, unaffected by your glare.

You weren’t expecting him to go easy, in fact you didn’t want him to, and yet this quick defeat had irritation boiling inside the bottom of your stomach. 

You hopped back up from the mat and swung at Ghost, missing each time as he managed to dodge every single one of your punches. His eyes never left you, his gaze burning holes into you as he snatched one of your wrists and tossed you on the mat easily.

He shook his head again with eyes that showed disapproval, an action that made you smack a hand against the material under you. This was a bad start for you and you knew that you were going to have to put in more effort than you have before to win this.

“Just warming up.” You huffed and he nearly rolled his eyes.

“There’s no warming up on the field.” He snapped back and you sent him a glare.

You got back up, taking a moment to get back into a stance before you raised your fists, keeping your eyes trained on Ghost. Your heart was already beating fast and yet he didn’t seem to be too affected by your earlier attempts which made you clench your jaw.

You threw another punch and managed to hit him on the shoulder, but the only reaction you got out of him was a punch that you barely dodged. 

It was enough to get your adrenaline pumping however, and you both spent a few minutes trading punches and kicks, getting into a good rhythm that allowed you both to learn each other's routine as if this was the first time you both were sparring together. 

Ghost was quick. He didn’t pull his punches and he stepped into your personal space to crowd you as he attempted to throw you off balance or beat you down, within reason. He kept you on your toes, making it so you had to rely on pure instinct and adrenaline to keep yourself in the round. All while glaring at you, another attempt to catch you off guard in an attempt to threaten you and yet it did the opposite.

You pushed his punches out of the way and threw your own, managing to hit him a few times purely by luck.

Sweat formed on your skin and you were breathing heavily. You felt like you were working in fast motion, as if your senses were heightened. It gave you a rush, one that you hadn’t felt since your time before joining the task force.

You got cocky, thinking that you could do anything. You stepped into Ghost’s space, pushing him back and throwing a quick punch while trying to swipe his feet out from under him, thinking that it was going to work. 

However, you should’ve known better.

Ghost grabbed onto your wrist and twisted it behind your back with an iron grip. He wrapped an arm around your throat and held you against his front in a firm grip even as you dug your nails into his forearm with your free hand. 

You were burning up, sweat dampening your clothes from the exercise and having Ghost’s hot body pressed against your back didn’t help. Up this close you could hear his heavy breathing and feel the sweat from his skin against your own, his strong muscles flexing against you as he kept you in place while you struggled.

“C’mon,” he grunted in your ear between heavy breaths. “You can do it.”

All thoughts went out the window as you felt his hot breath on your neck through his mask and. Suddenly you were all too aware of the fact that he was holding you against him and your ass was pressed against a very sensitive part of his body. Your body went hot and your breath hitched in your throat as you thought about how this position would be a lot different if both of you were somewhere more private.

Yoru stomach flipped and you attempted to hook your ankle around his leg to get him down and your hips bucked back into him.

Ghost let go of your arm and moved his hand to your hip, gripping onto it tight to stop you from moving. His breathing suddenly went ragged and he dug his fingers into the hem of your pants.

You sucked in your lips to keep in the noise that nearly escaped your mouth and tapped twice on his arm to signal you were done.

Both of you separated immediately, taking multiple steps to put distance between you both as you caught your breath. You could breathe again and yet it was like there wasn’t enough air to fill your lungs as the heat from your body made you feel dizzy. You were hunched over, staring at the mat below and watched as sweat dripped off onto before you glanced up at your lieutenant.

You shouldn’t have been surprised to see him staring at you and yet you felt even more breathless when your eyes connected.

There was something there, something heated in the way his eyes went somewhat hooded. His chest heaved up and down while his eyes bounced around your face before trailing towards your back side for just a split second.

“Give up already?” He signed and you clenched your jaw.

“Again.” You demanded and stood up straight.

You were far from ready to go again but you couldn’t give up and you couldn’t let the smug bastard win. You stepped back in front of him and got back into a stance, however your eyes were too focused on the way his damp shirt clung to his chest, how you could almost see some of the muscles hidden underneath as he huffed.

Ghost grabbed your wrists and positioned them properly, the contact making your skin tingle as you looked him in the eyes. He didn’t look away from you as he moved your fists to where they should be while his fingers grazed your knuckles.

“Legs apart.” He tapped your shoes with his and you did as he told as you tried to ignore the flip of your stomach from his words.

Damn your brain.

You took a deep breath, and though it did little to calm your nerves, you were able to at least go back to focusing on sparring with the man in front of you. 

He threw the first punch again and before long you both were back into the rhythm you had. All previous thoughts were slowly leaving your mind, even when you both managed to touch each other, unable to regain that initial quickness. 

Ghost threw you down on the mat no matter how many times you tried to knock him off balance. He wrapped his arm around your waist, holland you close for only a second before he slammed you down, causing you to let out a wheeze as you laid there catching your breath.

“You’re distracted.” He loomed over you and caught your attention. “You need to clear your mind.”

You heat creep onto your face and you found it hard to look him in the eye. Did he know what you were thinking about? How hard it was for you to clear your mind when he was touching you, when he was looking at you with desire in his dark eyes? As much as you hated it, him being in control of the sparring was enough to have you feeling a little weak in the knees as you slowly stood up.

Even worse, you were sure he was thinking the same thoughts you were. You wondered how he was able to stay focused if that was the truth but Ghost was always focused. 

No weaknesses. Nothing out of his control.

You nodded but you were beyond doing what he said. There was no way to clear your mind, not when the heat traveled down between your legs as you thought about what he could do to get rid of it.

You shook the thoughts away. You couldn’t believe how inappropriate you were being towards Ghost, your superior. You had to keep reminding yourself that as you went back to sparring with him, trying your best to go back to your original goal of finally beating him.

He’s a rank above you. He’s your superior. It’s wrong, it would cost you both your jobs, he probably didn’t feel the same. 

Oh, he touched you again.

Ghost managed to twist you around again but before you could face him again, he wrapped his legs around yours and pulled them out from under you. After you caught yourself from face planting, he grabbed your ankle and flipped you over before he pinned you down.

His knee was firmly planted on your inner thigh and he gripped your wrists tightly while pressing them into the mat. He hovered over you, his breath hitching in his throat when you both made eye contact and a deep sigh left his heavy chest. His eyes bounced around your face and he leaned just a little closer to you.

It would be easy to kiss him like this. You wondered what his lips felt like, if they were rough or soft, how they would feel against yours, against your neck or other places. You swallowed hard before you parted your lips at the thought of him worshiping you with his mouth in the ways that you wanted him to.

You had enough self control to not kiss him through the mask at this moment, but it was slowly waning away as you looked him in the eyes. You never realized how pretty his eyes were until now. You could look into them for as long as he’d let you and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

His beauty only spurred on more thoughts and for the first time ever you wondered what he looked like beneath the mask.

Ghost tightened his hold on your wrists for just a moment. His eyes narrowed slightly, and something more than just desire slipped into them, something that made your chest warm up and made you settle into the mat beneath you.

“Looks like you lost again, sergeant.” He mumbled, his voice lower and softer than normal.

“Sergeant.” A reminder, you told yourself.

It was true, you did lose, yet you weren’t angry about it. You couldn’t muster up enough to make you want to push him off, to give some snarky comment and retreat with your shattered ego in your hands.

Ghost let off your wrists and it took everything in your power to not wrap your arms around his neck to keep him where he was. Instead, you watched him climb off of you and stood with his back partially to you, his fingers curling up into a fist for a few seconds while he turned his attention to the training room around you both.

You sat up, resting your hand on your knee as you decompressed from the intense training and emotions that had just ran through you. You weren’t sure if you could do anymore today, not when you were this unfocused.

Ghost caught your attention by offering you a hand that you eagerly took just so you could feel his skin against yours. He grabbed yours firmly and pulled you up with ease, his other hand coming to rest on your waist even after you had already balanced yourself.

You stared up at him expectantly but he moved away from you, his gaze going to somewhere else in the room.

“Good work, Quiet. We’re done.” He said and stepped back from you. 

You nodded and stepped off the mat, making your way towards the exit while waving good-bye to the others on the way. You tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes on your back as you gathered your things, pushing away the warmth that crept up the back of your neck.

After you grabbed your things, you glanced back just as you were about to leave and your stomach flipped when you saw that Ghost was still staring at you. You gave him one last wave before you left through the doors and it was like he could breathe again.

It took everything in Ghost to not follow you out of the training room. There were so many emotions running through him that it was impossible for him to do anything but stare at you like an idiot, the words to say anything completely gone from his tongue. 

Whatever happened on the mat was dangerous for you both. Those feelings, the ones where he thought about how your skin would feel under his fingers, what you would look like as he slipped his hand between your thighs or when he pressed a kiss to your neck were dangerous. It was wrong of him to think of you in such a vulnerable and inappropriate way, to want to undress you and have you dig your nails into him enough to draw blood, but knowing that you were thinking the same made it worse.

He knew. He could see the way your eyes darkened from the similar thoughts and how you got all hot and bothered when you couldn’t shake them away.

He was lucky he had enough self control to stop those feelings from taking over, even though he desperately wanted to know what it was like to hold you against him in a very different way than he had before. Had he let them take control, he was sure you would’ve knocked him on the mat and exposed him, his feelings, his dirty thoughts.

Ghost had no weakness except when it came to you.

[sweetnsour1]

10:16

Fluff, Bakugou x female reader

“Oh so you are fuckin’ alive.”

You attempted your best impression of his red glare. It was less satisfying when the hulking blonde in your doorway didn’t even try to reciprocate it. You forced the aggression to stay on your features, determined to ignore the way his eyes looked more like Aizawa’s than his own, or the way his hair was still filthy and sticking in more directions than usual, or the way he seemed to be out of breath even though you were only on the second floor. You definitely ignored all of that as you stood your ground, refusing to let him move past you.

“Can I come in…please?”

You huffed and walked away, leaving the door open. You made your way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass, letting the cabinet slam closed as you moved to the fridge. You set the water in front of him as he fell into his usual seat at the counter. He drank it all, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand as he set the cup down so slowly...as if it would shatter.

It was easy to avoid the intensity of his bloodshot eyes. You didn't want to look at him at all, but you couldn't resist the habitual urge to scan his body for injuries. He looked more dirty than injured, covered in rubble dust, dirt, and Todoroki's ash. You noticed a new scar along his shoulder, but no blood marked his form anywhere. You grabbed the glass, turning to refill it.

“Why are you here?” The only sound was the splash of water. You didn't try to fill the silence with anything else. You set the cup in front of him again, pulling your hand from his reach just in time to avoid it.

“I was worried. I came as soon as I landed.”

“Worried? You haven’t talked to me in days.” Something inside twisted at the way his soft drawl didn't match the anger in your tone.

“Yea...because you haven’t picked up your fucking phone in days.”

“What?”

“I kept fuckin’ calling and your shit kept fuckin’ sending me to voicemail.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket, quickly navigating to the call history. “You didn’t call-” Your thumb froze over the blocked voicemails, finding 28 blaringly red notifications. “Oh...shitfuck.” You backed away from the predatory gaze you could sense was locked onto you. Your eyes were still on your phone screen as the chair scraped across the floor. The counter was already pressing against your back. You were out of space and options, so you looked up. Your breath caught at the wild look on his face.

"What's wrong, princess?"

“Okay, so I forgot you said you had to use a burner and my phone was still sort of set to block anything not from a contact…so I-“

“Ya fuckin’ blocked me?” Half a smirk tugged his lips up, but it did nothing to alleviate the intensity of those red eyes.

“I didn’t…not on purpose?”

“That makes it all better, huh?” He was close enough that you could feel the warmth emanating from his palms. Had he used his quirk to get here from the airport? “Because it was an accident?” You gasped at the speed of his movements. You went rigid in surprise for less than a moment. It was too easy to relax against his embrace. He buried his head against your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist so tightly it nearly hurt. “Do you know how hard it was to not fuckin' be here?" His voice got softer with each nuzzle against your skin. "How hard you made it to focus on anything else?" You ran your fingers through his grimy hair. "Thought I lost you, idiot.”

“Hmm, so I’m not a princess anymore.” The huff he gave tickled.

“Princess idiot.”

Masterlist

[bleedingichorhearts]

Imagine, if you will, a space marine going out to hunt for his bonded mate who is pregnant with his child so she will have plenty to eat.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: You there! You creature! Are on a roll and on that, I do not mind!

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Animal Death, Pregnancy.

The hulking space marine stalks through the forest. Carefully avoiding areas where sticks or dying leaves would make sound of his appearance. His mouth open beneath his helmet for a better scent coverage and ears pricked for any sound of irregular moment.

He has come out to hunt again in his little mates forests, looking for a bigger catch this time. Something that could give him a bit more challenge and meat. Something that could impress his little mate once more. To feed her and to stock up on the fat as the winter’s could be harsh to his little mate.

The winter wasn’t here yet, but he can definitely see and feel the signs of an oncoming harsh winter. The geese and ducks left a bit earlier than usual as the days got colder and he’s seen a squirrel stocking up on nuts. He’s also seen a snow owl fly overhead, looking for something to snack on before the winter itself started.

Though, that was not something he can stock up on, to eat. He needed something big and hopefully challenging. Perhaps he’ll go for an elk or a caribou? Maybe a snow leopard or a brown bear if he’s lucky enough to encounter them before they spot him, but he knows he won’t find anything much challenging as he would back in his own world. The creatures of his world brought up nasty fights and glorified wounds that he would happily show his little mate. To get her to fawn and worry over him.

Thinking about his little mate brought a small smile to his face, his sabatons crunching through the frosted fallen leaves. Oh, how she would kiss his wounds to make him feel better, new or old. How she would make meals; feasts out of the meat he hunted for. Always giving him the bigger portion because she can’t continue to admire his skills, his physique if she had nothing to see. Despite his rumbling protests to feed her instead, she makes a great point to him.

How is he to provide of he is not in great shape?

So, that made him go hunt out a little more. Not because his little mate offended him, but because he wanted to be in the bestest shape to be able to provide for his little mate. He notices how he… stocked up a little himself. That little chub on his stomach never goes unnoticed by his little mate in loving times, but he is sure she wouldn’t mind tracing his abs once again. She’s done it before, praising him for any body type he would like to have. It did not matter to her, she would trace her soft, plush lips against his scarred skin any day, anytime she had claimed once, thrice, then regularly.

He shook his helmet, shaking off some fallen leaves. He was missing his little mate, wanting to hurry up and be by her side already. To feel her soft flesh against his lips. To embrace and thumb her swollen belly that held a tinier creation between him and his little mate. To feel how their little one in there kicked up at him, causing his little mate discomfort.

He would then lowly growl at the little impatient one then. Halting the little one’s movement inside of his little mates stomach as she gives out a breath of relief, mumbling out. “The little one only listens to him when he’s around.” Something he might just have to watch out for when their little one is born in this paradise world.

A snap of a stick snapped him out of his daydreams. His form snapping up straighter in alarm. All senses alert for what could be potentially stalking him instead. His head slightly looking off to the side where he can hear a couple little thumps on the ground then, they stop. Waiting for his next move.

A foolish act to upon a master hunter like him, but he can reward this predator with a proper, quick death. Their hide, meat and bones, all of it will be used after all. None of it will go to waste.

He will skin the hide of the animal to provide heat, protection and comfort for his little mate. The bones would be used to make knives or little trinkets for his little mate and future little one. The meat will be stored into 1 out of 5 freezers for later uses. Maybe his little mate would like to cook some meat pies when he returns from this hunt? He knows he’ll be successful today as he will not leave his hunt without something to present to his little mate.

He pretends he doesn’t hear the predator stalking him. A hum leaving him as he prepares himself for claws and fangs to be stuck down into the back of his gorget. They wouldn’t do anything to him, but scratch the paint off his armor. That’s what most of the animals did, but he honors their… insolence enough to even try and get a killing blow on a Astartes by making their death quick and painless and using all of their organic matter as materials.

He hears the push off the predator. His form quickly turning around to snag the predator by the neck. A chocked yowl coming out of the predator. Black and white fur engulfing his gauntlet as they scratch desperately at his armor plates, chipping the paint off.

He rumbles happily at this creatures boldness to attack him from behind. A “snow leopard” he recalls. Their fur looking incredibly soft to the touch. A great hide to see his little mate wrapped in, but the meat. This is not enough meat to provide.

He snaps the felines neck with a jerk. Their body immediately seizing in his hands. No longer clawing at him and his armor, just pure dead weight.

Flopping the fluffy body over his pauldron, he continues with his hunt. He needed at least a big, fatty animal to bring back to the nest as well. This feline pelt might be satisfactory to look upon and lay upon, but it does not provide enough meat. He needed enough to stock up this winter.

That, or he was worrying about his little mate not getting enough nutrients when she was. The little one certainly liked to eat.

He plans on coming back to the nest before nightfall to bring her the newly cut of the feline hide and meat of the creatures he will catch, but if he’s especially lucky enough or early enough he’ll get more than just an lasting, appreciated kiss.

The space marine shivers at the thought.

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Summary

Part 1

Lonely Boy

London, England

Present Day

“Promise me that you will be normal.”

“I am always normal.”

“That is demonstratively untrue. You are never normal,”

“Well then what do you want from me? If I am not normal to begin with, how can I be normal in this instance?”

“Fake it. Pretend.”

“Why don’t you just drive? In silence.”

Cassian sighed a dramatic sight, and continued on driving, preferring not to push the issue any further. Lord knew it took him months, actual months to convince his stubborn ass of a brother to actually agree to try this. In all honesty, Cassian was feeling exhausted. Drained. Defeated. And he never felt defeated. But this whole…thing…was akin to that Greek myth, with the guy who kept pushing a huge rock up a mountain, only to reach the top, and for the rock to skid back down and for the climb to resume again. And again. And again. That’s how he felt with his wayward, unruly, scandalous brother Azriel.

Azriel was looking out the car window, a scowl on his face.

Cassian wasn’t going to engage. The last thing he needed for his brother to say ‘turn the car around, I am not going’. He wasn’t going to risk it.

“Where are we even?” Azriel muttered at last, his brow furrowing as he looked at the unfamiliar streets. “Is this bird posh?”

Cassian arched a brow at him and blew out a breath. You can take the boys out of a council estate, but you can’t take the council estate out of the boys. He and Azriel grew up in abject poverty, with their alcoholic father, his cunt of a wife, and their two abhorrent step-brothers. Decades later, sometimes it slipped–Azriel’s plain talk. 

“Who cares if she is posh?” Cassian shrugged instead of answering. “You are Azriel Night. She should be impressed,”

Azriel rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Posh birds don’t care about all that.”

Here he was: the shy, awkward boy that Cassian remembered. Azriel, with his scarred hands, his awful self-esteem, his sense of unworthiness and his head full of doubts. Despite the blustering bravado that he usually carried like a shield, when left stripped and bare, Azriel was a boy who made it big, who got lucky in life, but who thought little of himself. 

Azriel sighed and then pointed at the window.

“Look!  A pub. Let’s stop and have a pint instead.”

Tempting as it was, Cassian shook his head determinedly and said, “No. We have an appointment and we will keep it.”

He glanced at Azriel and added, “And don’t be pouting.”

“I am not pouting!”

“You are definitely pouting.”

A moment later.

“And rolling your eyes.”

“Fuck off.”

“How about,” Cassian chewed the inside of his cheek and then offered, “we’ll get a pint after.”

“After, I’ll need heroin!”

Cassian didn’t bother responding–it was all just bluster anyway. Azriel didn’t even drink because he was training. And considering how badly the training was going, there wasn’t going to be any drinking or any heroin if he wanted to continue playing, and not get benched for the rest of the season.

Azriel was looking out the window with a mixture of disdain and interest. 

They were driving down a busy street, hotels and restaurants on both sides. There was the Fitzroy, its facade indulgently opulent and so overwhelmed with Victorian decorations, it looked ridiculous. Next to it, was an absolutely disastrous looking cement building, which used to be a hotel, but now seemed abandoned. A fucking crematorium would look cheerier than this grey cement monstrosity. 

“What is this?” Azriel asked again.

“Russell Square,” Cassian explained at last, while making a turn alongside the green square.

It was quaint here. Quiet. 

Finally, Azriel recognised the hulking mass of the British Museum. It wasn’t a place where he visited willingly, though he sort of recalled a school trip here. Beyond that, it was a black hole. 

He was mostly a shit student, so it didn’t surprise him that he didn’t remember. He wished that he was better–at everything–but his childhood was so precarious, he never allowed himself to hope or wish for better days. So why bother with education or culture if that could always be snatched away from him at any point? So he didn’t. And now, he regretted it. He regretted not spending more time learning about things, about the world, but wasting entirely too much time on doubting and challenging it.

The SatNav told them that they had arrived and Cassian killed the engine.

“Come on,” he motioned at Azriel firmly, “don’t puss out on me now. Let’s go.”

Clenching his teeth so hard he risked cracking a tooth, Azriel climbed out of the Jaguar. 

The two of them stood in front of a cute - charming even - Georgian row home, with an attached carriage house. The house was mostly white, with a bit of red brick, and covered in red and purple…well, flowering plant. Azriel wasn’t an expert in plants. He knew ivy and wisteria and that’s as far as it went. So whatever this was, it was beautiful, but he has no idea what it was. Marigold Agency was all it said on an old-fashioned hanging sign that swayed gently over the one-story carriage house. Could be anything. At least it saved Azriel more embarrassment and indignity. He was entering, or ducking, to be precise, into a vaguely named business. It could be a flower shop. A cafe. An ice cream shop.

Not a matchmaking agency. Nothing like that.

The weather was blustery, the skies slate grey, not even a hint of sun or light. Sinking deeper into his leather jacket, he finally entered the foyer, followed by Cassian. A bell chimed upon their entry, announcing them.

They stood in a plush, cosy space, with a fancy marble fireplace, and entirely too many flower arrangements. The walls were covered with tastefully framed, but absolutely cheesy inspirational love quotes. As he looked around, Azriel read gems such as:

Darling, you are all I ever wanted love to be…

True love is a journey without an end

I told the stars about you…And they answered

I crave a love that drowns oceans

When we have each other, we have everything

“In the name of Saint George, what the hell is this?” Azriel muttered under his breath, glancing around.

Cassian meanwhile, made himself comfortable in a plush sofa, dwarfing it with his massive size. The fire in the fireplace was roaring and created a nice respite from London’s awful October weather. 

The next moment, a three-legged pug came trotting in, huffing and snorting. He was wearing a spiffy blue bow and stared the two visitors down with his big buggy pug eyes. Azriel squatted low and let the dog sniff him, as he stroked the short fur and the multitude of rolls.

“Piglet!” a melodious voice called out. “How did you get out? Off you go back to the office! Come on!”

The pug snorted in indignation, while Azriel followed the sound of the voice. His eyes skimmed up, finding slender ankles and feet clad in black patent leather pumps–elegant, with one of those ‘kitten heels’. Is that what they were called? And how did he know that?

The owner of the expensive shoes wore a pleated silk skirt of deep cobalt and as he looked up, Azriel noted a tiny waist and a pair of ample tits. The posh bird–and he assumed that’s who this was–had a body to kill for. Definitely a hot little body, though she was dressed like some movie star from the 50s. Totally old fashioned and proper. Those nice soft tits were hidden beneath a black silk blouse, with a huge bow on the side of her neck. Apparently she and her pug liked strutting about wearing large bows. But to add to her old-fashioned attire, she also wore PEARLS. Real, honest to god pearls–a 3-strand pearl necklace, and pearl earrings. 

“Your pug’s name is Piglet?” Azriel asked, perplexed, as he straightened to his considerable height.

“It is indeed,” the girl…woman…confirmed.

She was a stunner to be sure. Early-twenties, he assumed, and it wasn’t just her attire that seemed vintage–she was a throwback to a bygone era. A soft lovely face, reminding him of classic cartoon princesses–huge round eyes, brown and gorgeous, a small pretty nose, pink cheeks and a pair of rosy lips, all framed by waves of light golden-brown hair. 

“Piglet, come,” she ordered again, and the pug finally ambled away from Azriel, energetically hopping on his three legs.

“Mr. Singer-Night?” she asked, boldly extending her hand.

“Mr. Night is fine,” Azriel corrected, and took her hand in his. Hers was soft, with little firm calluses and a nice grip.

He found himself being intrigued by this oddity. Not exactly attracted, though she was incredibly attractive, but more like fascinated. She was so different from every single other woman he’s ever been around, he didn’t know what to make of her. Granted, he didn’t spend much time in high society, but he spent enough to know that even there, girls such as this one were a rarity. 

“Of course,” she nodded once and then looked at Cassian, who got up from the sofa.

“Also Mr. Night,” Cassian smiled, his handsome face splitting into an affable grin. She offered him a little smile too, and for some reason, that made Azriel unhappy. He wasn’t angry exactly, but she barely reacted to him, and here she was, offering sweet smiles to his brother. It wasn’t unexpected–Cassian was fun. Big, burly, handsome, with his black Fabio-long hair and an easy, loose-limbed walk.  

“Are you brothers, gentlemen?” she inquired, motioning for them to follow her. 

“We are,” Cassian confirmed.

“Yes, I can see the resemblance,” she said breezily, to which Cassian responded, “Of course I am the more handsome, well-adjusted brother!”

She smiled a polite smile, and Azriel blandly stretched his lips in a fake smile, wanting to punch Cassian in the bollocks.

Unbelievable that Cassian was starting to flirt with her within two minutes of being in her presence! Unbelievable or predictable?

Anyway, this was going terrible and he just wanted to get out of here.

“Would you like some tea, gentlemen?” she offered.

“Would love some,” Cassian agreed immediately, and Azriel clenched his fist until his nails dug into his fist painfully. Now they were having tea! They’d never fucking get out of this bizarre place in the middle of fucking Holborn or wherever the fuck they were. 

“You seem tense, Mr. Night,” she said quietly, and he was surprised to find her in front of him, her big brown eyes kind and understanding. “Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

Easier said than done, but Azriel followed her advice and plummeted into a comfortable armchair in front of a large, clean desk. Cassian sat in an identical chair next to him. Piglet the pug eased himself between them and sat down on the plush carpet, looking up at his new guests with interest. Cassian immediately attempted to play with the dog, extending his hand and asking to ‘give paw’, which Piglet did. 

The girl, whose name Azriel still didn’t know, returned with a tray laden with tea service. Actual tea pot and nice cups and saucers, platters with biscuits and pastries. She poured them tea, handed them the cups and only then did she sit down behind her impressive, polished walnut desk. 

“I am Elain Archeron,” she introduced herself at last.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Archeron,” Cassian grinned, and Azriel nodded. The rain behind the window was getting worse, and Azriel felt that he was here for the long run. “This is a very nice office,” Cassian continued to pile on the compliments. “Business must be going well for you, to be able to afford a place like this. You do come very highly recommended and your services are highly regarded.”

She drummed a manicured finger on the desk and explained, “I inherited the building. The house is mine, and I use this carriage house for my office. My great-great-grandmother, also named Elain, was the lover of the Duke of Velaris,”

At that, Cassian gave her a salacious look, and Azriel sipped his tea in bland silence. It was good. Strong. And of course there is some high society sex story that was going to be attached to this girl–it was a given. She seemed like the type. Lovers, dukes, mistresses, inheritances, estates…Fucking ‘Downton Abbey’ is where he now was. A nightmare.

Elain continued, “She was very active in the suffragette movement at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, and was good friends with Emmeline Pankhurst, who lived just down the road, in what is now the Fitzroy.”

Azriel’s brain was working slowly, because he was now warm and sleepy, but he recalled something about all of this from class–the name Emmeline Pankhurst sounded familiar. She was one of the first feminist ladies, if he recalled correctly. 

“The Duke of Velaris gifted the house, this house, to my gran, so that the women could hold their meetings here. It’s been passed down the line, to the females of our family. I am the lucky one who inherited it this time around…This carriage house is quite convenient to house my business,”

“So you are a Duchess?” Azriel interrupted. 

She smiled and said, “Well, not exactly, but enough about me.”

“I told you she was posh,” Azriel glanced at Cassian, nodding in her direction. 

She ignored the comment and asked at last, “So, what brings you to Marigold? And who is in need of my services?”

“My brother here,” Cassian offered easily, “is in need of a wife.”

She exhaled and murmured, “well then”, and clicked her laptop, reading whatever was on the screen. Azriel fumed silently.

“I am assuming you are Azriel?” she asked, without taking her eyes off the screen. 

“I am,” he managed. 

“It says you are a footballer?”

“I am,” he confirmed reluctantly. Usually, his profession was a flex. He played for Arsenal, been a professional footballer since he was 17, and was currently the team’s captain. But somehow, right now, it didn’t seem as impressive as it usually did. Not when he was sitting in front of a damn Duchess!

Was she really a Duchess? Did Granny Elain only shagged the Duke, or did they have children? Because if Granny Elain looked like this Elain, it was no wonder that the Duke dipped his wick into that honey pot. 

“Are these monosyllabic answers how you court the ladies?” Elain asked, a note of tartness on her tongue.

Azriel’s eyes flared and he stared at her. The cheek on her!

“Pardon?” 

She shrugged innocently and continued looking at the screen, reading.

“I am just wondering why you would need my services, Mr. Night? You are a successful sportsman, and a footballer no less, and I assume that you are financially stable. Unless you have a gambling problem of some kind?”

“I don’t have a gambling problem!”

“Well, then, since you are an athlete, I am guessing it’s not drugs or drink. So, what is it then? Personality or sexual dysfunction?”

At that, she looked up and stared straight at him.

Azriel’s eyes bugged out. To be fair, so did Cassian’s.

“Excuse me?!” Azriel thundered. “Who the hell are you to imply that I can’t get my dick hard? Are you even married yourself? And where do you get off treating your potential clients like this? Let’s go, Cassian. I am not sitting here, listening to this shite!”

Elain remain unflappable all through his tirade, and watched him attempt to get up from the armchair, splashing hot tea over his shirt in the process. He cursed, the tea cup clanging and wobbling precariously in his hands.

“Are you very well done?” Elain then asked dryly, rising up and leaving the office.

Cassian sighed deeply and unhappily.

“Well, that went well,” he groaned.

“She was taking the piss!” Azriel retorted angrily, though he was feeling kind of foolish now. He couldn’t believe that he lost his temper like that. He wasn’t even a temperamental man, but somehow, this stuck-up little floozy with her pearls and her judgemental tone set his teeth on edge. “I bet she isn’t even married herself! Who’d marry a cow like that? A bloke would have to be suicidal…She’d nag him to death…”

Suddenly, from behind them, Elain voice said calmly, 

“Glad to know that it’s not sexual issues, but just your horrible personality.”

Azriel felt his face flush. He’d assumed that she stormed out and left them to see themselves out, but apparently, she heard everything that he said to Cassian. He called her a ‘cow’. Shit.

She handed him a hand towel to blot out the tea from his shirt and then went back to her desk.

Piglet was growling angrily at Azriel, back to stand on his three legs, his crooked sharp little teeth bared and ready to sink into any part of Azriel in defence of Elain.

“Piglet, it’s okay,” Elain said softly, while Cassian attempted to pet him and almost lost a finger in the process, when Piglet snapped at him viciously.

“My apologies, Ms. Archeron,” Cassian muttered. “This didn’t go as planned. We won’t be wasting any more of your time and will be on our way.”

She sighed and waved her hand at him,

“I apologise for my shortness. But, you must understand, I also don't want to waste anyone’s time. Not yours, gentlemen, not my own. If Mr. Night isn’t interested in my services, then I understand and we won’t proceed any further.”

“No,” Cassian interrupted. “He is interested. Believe me. He is,” and he threw a murderous look in Azriel’s direction. 

Elain pursed her lips and said, “I find it hard to believe. But if you wish, let’s discuss your situation. I feel like there is more to the story that I am not understanding.”

She was now talking directly to Cassian, pretty much ignoring Azriel altogether, and that made his hackles rise. However, he didn’t feel that it was prudent to continue arguing with her. Let Cassian handle this however he wanted.

Elain refilled Azriel’s cup and handed it back to him. He was surprised at that. The biscuits looked good too, so he picked one up from the tray and bit into it. It was divine. Buttery, crispy, meltingly tender inside. He’d never eaten a biscuit like this before. 

“This is incredible,” he couldn't stop himself from complimenting it.

A small smile touched Elain’s lips and she said, “Well, thank you, Mr. Night. I baked them myself.”

“You bake too?” he blurted out stupidly.

“I do. It was my first passion. That and flowers.”

“Of course,” he snorted. “Don’t worry, Miss, I didn’t think it would’ve been cage fighting. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are an escapee from the 50s,”

Sarcastically, she retorted, “no, how could I possibly take that the wrong way? Forgive me, sir, if I am well-mannered, and decorous, and like genuine relationships between people, which aren’t based on Instagram likes and follows.”

“I am a little surprised that you know what Instagram is,” Azriel added. “Seeing as you use words such as ‘decorous’...”

“Aright, okay,” Cassian clapped his huge hands together and rubbed them together. “That’s enough. Let’s move on, shall we?”

Elain sighed dramatically and said, “Fine. Tell me then why Mr. Night is in need of a wife then?”

“Gladly,” Cassian cried with fake excitement. “Azriel and I grew up in a…challenging environment,”

Elain didn’t say anything, but Azriel could see that that did not surprise her. 

“Our family situation wasn’t the best,” Cassian continued, “until we were adopted by our distant uncle. You might have heard of him, considering your background–Lord Darling, the construction magnate.”

She nodded, “I am familiar with Lord Darling. He has a son–Rhysand, I believe. You three are related then?”

“We are. Rhys is our cousin. We were adopted when we were teens, Azriel was almost fifteen, I was about thirteen. Az was already showing a lot of promise on the field, his talent raw and genuine,”

Azriel died inwardly from the praise. He was never comfortable with it, even when it was deserved.

“Signed at seventeen to Manchester City,” Elain said casually, like a spy recalling a dossier. “Then, at twenty-three, sold to Arsenal and has been there ever since. Captain for the past three years, if I am not mistaken?”

Cassian just stared at her, as did Azriel, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“He is a forward and his number is 14. Last year, he scored 34 goals, tied only with Haaland. Height–6”5, very tall for a footballer, and weight is 188 lbs.," with that, Elain leaned back, and looked at both of them. 

“I wouldn’t have taken you as a football aficionado,” Cassian confessed after a long pause.

“I am not,” Elain said easily. “And I wouldn’t expect you to. I am an escapee from the 1950s, after all.”

Azriel pushed his tongue into his cheek, but didn’t rise to the taunt.

He wasn’t sure why, but it felt weirdly satisfying to hear her rattle off his stats. To say that he was shocked was an understatement, but also, secretly pleased. Fuck yeah he was as good as Haaland! And Haaland was 5 years younger than him. So there was that.

“As our American cousins would say,” Elain threw a biscuit to Piglet, who lunged at it voraciously, “this isn’t my first rodeo, Cassian.”

Oh, so now Cassian was Cassian. But Azriel was still Mr. Night.

That was fine. It’s not like Azriel cared.

“And that means that I do my research. Very thoroughly,” Elain assured them. “Before I take on any client, be it male or female, I need to know what and who they are. Do I scour news outlets? Social media? Gossip sites? Oh, you bet I do. And then there is a full criminal background check as well once someone becomes a client. 

“Mr. Night is acceptable,”

“Oh, well! Thank goodness for that,” Azriel exclaimed sarcastically.

“There is no need for that, Mr. Night,” Elain stopped him, “your notoriety is known, but it’s at an acceptable level. No long term relationships, no sexual assaults, but penchant for…” she cleared her throat, but ploughed forth, “orgies and group sex. Attempts at discretion, but not always successful.”

Shit, well this was embarrassing.

Azriel wasn’t sure why he should feel embarrassed at all? He was a single man in the prime of his life, but when it came from the lips of this lovely doll-like creature who was draped in pearls, his sexual history sounded…seedy. 

She didn’t pause, but continued, “only one arrest. When Mr. Night was 18–for destruction of property,”

“He spray painted a wall,” Cassian interjected.

Azriel just loved sitting here and being discussed like he wasn’t present.

“Ahh, an artist as well?” Elain commented.

Gah. She really was the most annoying woman he’d ever met. Annoying and condescending and impossible. 

“So, a famous, successful footballer from the Premier League who enjoys orgies and hasn’t had a girlfriend…ever, wants to find a wife? That’s quite a leap. Please explain.”

“Lord Darling is a very wealthy man,” Cassian said, “and he’s been kind to treat us well, even though we aren’t his sons. We are in his will, and it’s not been kept secret from anyone. The will stipulates one condition for all of us: Rhys, Az and myself. In order to receive the inheritance, we have to be married by the age of 30. If we are not, the inheritance is null and void and we receive nothing. Azriel is the eldest–he will be turning 30 in March. I have another year and a half to go and Rhys is the youngest at 26.”

“Aren’t you wealthy in your own right?” Elain challenged, looking directly at Azriel.

“I am,” he said.

Muscling in, Cassian piped in, “You don’t understand, Ms. Archeron. The inheritance is very large,”

Seeing her expression, Cassian added,

“It’s 230 million. Each. It’s a lot of money to just let go.”

It finally dawned on her and she nodded with understanding. 

“It is a rather large sum,” she agreed with an exhale.

“It is,” Cassian nodded, swallowing two biscuits at once. “These are good!” he mumbled, before saying, “and since it is such a huge amount, and this is a serious, lifelong decision, we all got to be thoughtful about it. Can’t leave this to chance anymore. As you’d mentioned, Az doesn’t have a steady girlfriend, so anyone new has to be vetted. We can’t have some slag from “Love Island’ latching on to him.”

Elain’s eyes popped at the word ‘slag’ being casually thrown into the conversation, but she stopped herself from commenting. 

“Also, Az will be moving on sooner rather than later.”

“Not too soon,” Azriel argued, but Cassian ignored him.

“Coaching or broadcasting,” Cassian continued. “Within 3-5 years, Az will retire from playing, but will probably move on to coaching once he passes all his coaching courses and certification. He’ll have a reputation to uphold–he’ll have to be respectable. Married, with children,”

“God Cass, you make it sound like I am being sentenced to life of hard labour,” Azriel moaned.

Elain chuckled. 

“Well, at least now it makes sense.”

Elain got up and went to the window behind her desk. 

Rain lashed violently against the glass, but it was nice here–at least Azriel liked it. The girl was still kind of a bitch, but she smelled nice, of jasmine, with an undertone of honey, and she baked and she was pretty. And her arse was fine, even hidden behind her pleated skirt. All of her was fine, except for her personality and her sharp tongue.

“Mr. Night,” she said quietly, without turning from the window. Azriel knew that she was addressing him, because Cassian busied himself with fixing Piglet’s bow.

“Please confirm that you are the kind of man who’ll accept a woman with high energy and high ambitions,” Elain asked. 

“What?”

“The women that contact me–that’s what they are. They are busy with professional lives, they are usually very well financially off, they are confident and independent. Most either don't have time to look for a partner on their own or want to meet someone who’s been screened and who matches their needs and asks. 

“But I must inquire again–is that the type of woman you desire? Someone who would stand up for herself, and someone who might not give up her own career for yours? Someone who might be complicated, if you know what I mean. Educated, serious, elegant, demanding. Not someone who’d roll over for you or inflate her lips or bleach her hair.”

“I don’t really want anyone with bleached hair,”

“Well that’s good isn’t it? Because I’d present you with matches who will challenge and entice you. But you need to tell me that that’s something you are comfortable with and that’s something you want?”

“He wants it,” Cassian shot immediately, playing with Piglet and cooing at him, muttering ‘you are a pretty boy, aren’t you? Yes you are. Yes you are…”

Elain raised her hand and turned to face them.

“I must insist that Mr. Night answer this question, Cassian. This is the rest of his life we are talking about. I understand that you have his best interests at heart, but that’s not enough. Mr. Night must decide for himself.”

Azriel crossed his arms on his chest and chewed his lips, thinking.

He liked her straightforward manner. Her insistence. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say that she was describing herself in these women that she’d be setting him up with. Only it wasn’t the case–Elain was delicate and classic. She was a matchmaker, for god’s sake, not some boardroom lioness. She had a pug who wore a satin bow. But she was dogged, and confident, and he didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind her self-assuredness at all. Other things…he kind of minded. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said at last. 

Elain cocked her brow at him, her expression a mixture of disdain and disbelief. 

“Well, ‘yeah, okay’ doesn’t exactly fill me with excitement, but I suppose we’ll go with that,” she concluded at last. 

Cassian chuckled. 

She clicked something on her laptop, and Azriel heard the sound of a printer. 

“This is the contract, gentlemen,” she told them, as she gathered a hefty bundle of pages and stuffed them into a folder. “Take a look at it and if you are going to pursue my services, I’d like for you to return it to me, signed, by tomorrow. Say one o’clock?”

Cassian snatched the folder and nodded, “Yes, we will.”

“I apologise for how quickly we are moving here, but we are under a tight timeline, it seems,” she reminded them. 

Suddenly losing his usual indifferent bravado, Azriel asked, his voice quiet,

“And what happens after? If we sign it,”

“You sign it,” Elain ordered brusquely. 

“Fine. I sign it. What happens after that?”

“We sit down, discuss your mating criteria, and take it from there,”

“I am sorry, what? What is a ‘mating criteria’?” 

“Basically, your requirements for your future mate. Blonde or brunette? Tall or short? Level of education? Hobbies? Interests? All of it.”

“Mating criteria is the least sexy term I’ve ever heard,” Azriel complained. 

“Well, I am sorry, Mr. Night–I'll leave the ‘sexy’ part to you. My job is to find you the woman for all your sexy needs and then some.”

Azriel got up, followed by Cassian.

“I mean, you can just marry me,” Azriel suddenly blurted.

Both Elain and Cassian paused and stared at him with evident shock on their faces.

“I am sorry?” 

Backtracking frantically, he tried to make light of it, internally berating himself and wondering what the hell possessed him to say something so stupid. He’d rather rip his nuts off than be married to her!

“I mean, it would save both of us some time. And in a year, we could be divorced. No harm, no foul. And I won’t even request any conjugal satisfactions from you,”

“Okay, okay,” Cassian muttered, grabbing Azriel’s upper arm and squeezing it until he stopped the blood flow. “I think we’ve said enough. We’ll see you later, Ms. Archeron,”

She, meanwhile, was fuming, her hands on her hips, as she snarled,

“You wouldn’t request conjugal satisfactions? You? Who said I’d ever even let you near me!?”

“I am sure he was just joking,” Cassian murmured through clenched teeth. “Nerves, you know. Nerves. Forgive him, Miss Elain. No conjugal anything between the two of you, of course. Hahaha. That’s funny. Let’s go. Let’s. Go.”

He half dragged Azriel alongside him.

“Consider it!” Azriel called out.

“No. Fucking. Thank. You.” She yelled after them.

“Shit, you said ‘fucking’!” Azriel grinned. “Miss Perfect is not so perfect after all.”

** credit to @deathsweetblossoms for suggesting the title for the story!

[f1-stuff]

sex 👁️👄👁️ competition 👁️👄👁️

Pls tell us more

Ask and you shall receive 🫡 Have the first 700 words... -> WIP game

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault.

It starts because of a question he poses during the drivers' parade in Spain, a group of them waiting to be interviewed as the float makes its slow procession around the circuit. 

They’re in the middle of a conversation about how Pierre and Esteban can’t seem to get along lately, their competitiveness reaching new volatile heights, when Alex says, “Do you reckon they fight over who’s better in bed?”

“Probably,” Logan snickers beside him.

“They’ve definitely argued over who’s got a bigger dick,” Lando adds.

For some reason, everyone looks at Charles.

“What? You think I know?”

“You’re friends with them,” Alex says, then adds, “Kind of.” Because he knows stuff with Esteban is complicated.

“Did they ever fight over the same girl?” Lando asks, nudging him. “Like, when you were kids?”

“I don’t know!” Charles insists, huffing.

“My guess is Pierre. For better in bed, I mean.” And then, they all hum, like they’re in agreement. 

Charles rolls his eyes, glancing around for Pierre as if the conversation will manifest him. He’s still at the other end of the float, waiting for Esteban to finish his interview in front of him. Charles smirks, betting he’s pissed off even about that.

“Okay, who’s better in bed: Max or Checo?”

“Max,” Oscar and Logan say in unison, then fist bump each other.

“I am saying Checo,” Charles speaks up, feeling bad for the guy. “This conversation is very stupid.”

“No, no, you could be right,” Lando chips in. “Max is really impatient, but Checo could have the whole passionate Latin lover thing going on.”

“That’s racist. I think.”

“Shut up.”

“Magnussen or Hulkenberg?” Alex chips in.

“Well, K Mag has one more kid than Hulk,” Logan says, as if this is evidence to be weighed.

“Does that mean he’s better or worse?” Lando mutters, smirking.

“Lewis or George?” 

“Lewis, are you kidding? Have you seen the chicks he’s gone out with?”

“Point.”

“Charles,” Alex says, getting his attention, a devilish smirk on his face. “You or Carlos?”

Charles laughs awkwardly, shaking his head. “Mate, come on.”

“What? Look at him, he’s blushing.”

“I am not.”

“I reckon it’s Carlos-” Lando starts, then gets shoved for it.

“Yeah, you would say that,” Oscar teases. “He’s, like- your hero.” 

Then, while Lando sputters about how, ‘I meant ‘cause he’s older,’ Alex says, “Carlos had the same girlfriend for like six years. I doubt he’s actually that good, ya know? Reckon he’s probably got complacent.”

“Oh, big word. Have you gotten ‘complacent,’ Alex?” Logan asks, nudging him. Alex gives a good-natured eye roll.

“‘Kay, fine. That’s probably fair...”

Someone sweeps up behind Charles, and he can immediately identify who it is from the duel hands that squeeze the side of his neck and his bicep, along with the scent of a familiar cologne. (Charles doesn’t really want to examine the fact that he can recognize his teammate by his cologne...)

“What are we laughing about?” Carlos asks, crowding up against Charles, who makes space for him in their circle.

“Who’s better than their teammate in bed,” Lando offers, reaching out to clasp hands with Carlos in greeting. “We were just debating you or Charles.”

Carlos makes an inquisitive noise, his gaze sliding to Charles, who gazes back stubbornly.

“Obviously, I am better-” Carlos starts, overly cocky, inspiring Charles to huff in indignation.

“This is obvious?”

“Well, I-”

“‘I,’” Charles interjects. “The only obvious thing is that, of course, you would think you are better. Just like I will think I am the best. We are not good judges.”

“Okay, then what do you suggest, my friend?” Carlos asks, a competitive arch to his brow that’s accompanied by an amused tilt to his lips. “Who should be the judge?”

“Oh, God,” Alex groans, laughing at them. “We shouldn’t have talked about it with them both here. Now, they’re gonna argue about it.”

“Charles,” Carlos says, ignoring the others. “What do you suggest?”

Charles feels overly warm all of a sudden, rubbing his clammy palms against his jeans, as Carlos regards him with all of his single-minded focus.

“A competition,” he says. Before he can stop himself.

[traffic-light-eyes]

Ninja as Marvel Superheroes

Lloyd:

To me, this is the most obvious. He would be Spider-Man; Spider-Man is young, witty, and learning the ropes along the way. I'd imagine he'd make his design off of a green lynx and still keep the ninja motif with baggier pants, maybe. I just genuinely think he'd be Spider-Man if anything.

Nya:

Hear me out. Iron Man. Her being iron man makes so much sense!! It calls back to her days as Sam X with her mech. And don't even bother talking to me about how it's Iron Man, I really don't care. She'd be, like, Iron Samurai or Iron Maiden (because I totally think she'd name herself after a killing machine). She's techy, incredibly smart, and resourceful! Maybe a bit prickly at first, but that's her <3

Zane:

This one is kinda a tie between Hawkeye and Vision. Skill wise, I feel Hawkeye would fit more, but personality and being, well, a robot, Vision fits better. So, I think I'll go with Vis! Like I said earlier, both are robots/nindroids/synthezoids, and both have a very similar personality! Even the Ice Chapter could fit in with what happened to Vis in WandaVision (I won't spoil!). It's definitely a good pick!

Kai:

He was a bit difficult. I feel like he gives Black Widow vibes, though. He is very skilled, stealthy, and not above killing for the people he loves. He's a fierce protecter of his people from the shadows and a bit standoffish at first - just like Nat! I just feel that Nat is way more suave than he could ever be.

Jay:

FALCON!! It calls back to when he tried to make wings from the junkyard! This was probably the easiest one to choose!!! I think that instead of his wings being from the military, he made them himself. He loves his people and wants nothing more than to do what is right. I don't think that a single person could fit him better.

Cole:

Hulk or Cap! I feel like using Hulk is a bit of a cop-out because, well, big strong man smashes things woah. Seems too easy. He doesn't have much in common with Bruce aside from strength, really. So I didn't want to fully choose him. Cap, however, seems like a much better fit. Cap had spent his days as a show-pony, basically. Singing, dancing, the likes. This feels similar to Lou's pushiness to the arts. Similarly, Cap (if you didn't know) loves to draw! Two confirmed drawings in his sketchbook are the monkey riding a unicycle and a little sketch of the city in the corner of the page. This really draws back to Cole. Not to mention, both Cap and Cole seem like the grounding glue holding the team together. The mother-hen. The face of the team. (Don't even lie to me and say he isn't. You don't have to be the main character to be the face - he's not even my favorite character, and I completely agree that he's the face. Everyone I know, when asked, says that they had a crush on Cole. It's ridiculous.) I just love the idea of Cole as Cap!

[thebestofoneshots]

firstly, I absolutely adore your blog!! <3 ur so cool

secondly im curious to know- what marvel superhero would you assign to each of the marauders? I personally think sirius would love ironman, he’s so tony stark coded

AH, you're combining some of my favourite fandoms, babe! Which is why I might end up writing a way deeper analysis than I need to lol. But let's go through it one by one.

My darling James, the golden boy of his era, he is 100% Captain America. He is hell-bent on protecting those he loves, and he would do anything for them. Also, he's been in love with one girl for all of his life. It's just so fitting for him, I feel?

But also, I feel like James could also be a great Spiderman (and that is probably his favourite superhero), especially younger James, with his charm and charisma and how he is loved and cherished by his people. Also, he is totally in love with a redhead.

Remus Lupin is a complicated one. You know, I feel like Hulk is quite fitting, since you know he gets angry and turns into a green monster, which kind of relates to Rem in a deeper level. Having said that, I think his superhero would be Moon Knight and I'm ready to diе on this grave.

Hear me out, it's about the deep-held emotional trauma and the way Steven and Jake came into existence to protect Mark, he would absolutely love, love Moon Knight, especially the Disney+ version of him. There's also the lack of control the multiple personalities entail (which is very much like Remus' turning into Moony) and the moon theme. Besides, Rem would totally have a mini crush on Oscar Isaac.

And for Sirius, I agree, he is definitely Iron Man coded and would love Tony, I mean it's in the daddy issues they share with each other, the family background, the rich kid persona and all that. But I also think Sirius would love, and I mean LOVE Peter Quill (StarLord).

StarLord also has family issues, but he grew to become an absolutely charming character, sharing his love for beings with Sirius (aka they're both a little bit of heartbreakers) and he is super funny, which I feel Sirius would love. They both love music, and Sirius would praise Starlord's taste every single day of the week. Something else Siri would love about StarLord is his found family. He met the Guardians of the Galaxy and they all adopted each other, in the same way, Sirius adopted and was adopted by James and Remus.

Reggie is Bucky Barnes (and this is one of my favourite Marvel characters). Bucky was brainwashed and tortured by Hydra, in pretty much the same way Reggie was by his family. He shared that traumatic past and his absolute desire to be better, and to improve, he doesn't want to be a deatheater anymore and he fights for what's good. Also, if he is Bucky and James is Cap, we can have a bit of Starchaser hehe.

Lily loves Spiderman, and not because James does, nah, Lily has been a fan since she was a kid, she loves his sense of justice and how he fights for what's good. Spiderman's motto "With great power, comes great responsibility" is literally Lily's bible.

Marlene is into Black Window, and not only bc she has a massive crush on her, but because she thinks she is the most badass character in the entire fucking Marvel universe, no joke. She can stand against beasts three times her size, and fight alongside the most powerful superheroes on earth by being just a human woman? She is INCREDIBLE!

Mary gives me Vision vibes, I'm not sure why, but I totally see her reading Vision fanfiction and writing some too.

Barty is a Loki kid, you cannot change my mind. I mean, forgotten and neglected child who has to be exceptionally good at everything to get the attention from his dad? He becomes evil bc he thinks it's the only way he'll get Odin to see him? This to me screams Barty, and he would love Loki.

And lastly, I think Evan likes Quick Silver. Firstly, he thinks he's super hot, but he also loved his relationship with his sister, and he loves Pietro's charm. There's just something about him that he can't stop thinking about. I also feel he would like Mystique, but that's due to her complicated past, and her ability to become anything anyone she wants. He feels it would be so freeing to do that.

PS. Didn't I say I'd go crazy with this analysis? Aaaah I'm such a nerd...

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi!!! I’m so excited I finally was able to catch when you are accepting requests. I would like to request Lu bu and raiden (separately) with a chubby s/o who is feeling a bit insecure. I definitely feel like these two are lady magnets. Thank you so much!

-It was a rough day for you, one that seemed to be hitting you harder than normal. You didn’t even want to look in the mirror, ashamed by what you say staring back at you.

-Every now and then you would get like this, shying away from mirrors, hiding yourself away in your home, wearing clothes that would hide your figure, and hating how you looked.

-It was hard on you, seeing others who were thinner, in better shape, wearing such cute clothes, looking so happy. You wanted that too.

-Luckily, you had a great support group, in the form of your hulking boyfriend who could easily bench press you with one finger, if you ever let him, but you didn’t, you didn’t want him to drop you, despite his promises that he wouldn’t.

-He adored you, he adored your soft body, it was warm, perfect for hugging, and holding you was like the perfect weighted blanket for him- you were so comforting.

-Whenever he saw you get like this, he wouldn’t hesitate to immediately go to your side and hold you. He would hug you until you felt like talking, and once you did, he would list everything he loved about you, and sometimes he would even show you~~ you were always quite sore after he did that.

-(Love) wouldn’t let you put yourself down, he would halt your words with deep kisses, kissing you until your toes curled, until you were breathless, unable to think about what you were going to say prior to his affection.

-He would show you how happy you made him, taking you out, and just being with him, seeing how happy he was, being with you, always lifted your spirits up.

-Lu Bu- If someone says something bad about you or even looks at you funny, as he is very observant, Lu Bu is hands on sight- he doesn’t care if he’s defending you. He adores you- you are the only thing he is soft for in his life, and he loves to hold you close. He may not tell you, verbally, about what makes him happy about you, but he loves to show you, and he won’t stop until you stop putting yourself down. Lu Bu has stamina for days, and he will make sure you feel that if you need a more physical demonstration on what he loves about you.

-Raiden- He definitely had no issues showing you his favorite parts about you, you would have to beg for him to stop after hours of ravishing you, after you’re so brainless and boneless to think of anything but him. Raiden adores you, he doesn’t care about your looks, other than you’re perfect to hug and all his, he loves you for you, because you love him for him. He has no issue defending you, if someone is picking on you or saying something cruel, he has no issues showing why he was one of the strongest rikishi in the world!

[bloomingflowersthings]

Burning chill

Pairings: Natasha X Sick!Reader, Natasha X Child!Reader, hints of WandaNat

Warnings: Mentions of the Red Room, nothing too specific, but reader is definitely traumatized

Summary: Taking care of a sick kid was already hard enough, but when a fever brings to surface your traumas, Natasha is going to need some help to get you to lay down

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

To say that Natasha was a little worried about you would be an understatement. She was really worried about you.

You were the youngest widow on training when Nat and Yelena took the red room down one year ago. Now you were already 7 years old and a lot less traumatized than when they took you to the avengers compound. It took a lot for you to unlearn all the bad things that Dreykov implemented on your head, including the way he made Natasha seem like a traitor. Now you loved her like she was your mother and she loved you back.

At first, the avengers didn’t want a kid living in the compound. They thought it was too dangerous, however you were highly intelligent and skilled, so you started your avengers training. You still weren’t allowed to go on the field with the adults but you did almost everything like they did.

On your last training, Steve took the whole team to a frozen lake to test everyone combat skills in a snowy area. Everything would have turned out alright if Bruce didn’t Hulked out and broke the ice on the lake, prompting you to fall down on the freezing water.

Now, you were here, with the worst cold ever and a high fever that wouldn’t break. Natasha was on bed with you, by your side the whole time and the way you were shivering besides her broke her heart.

A series of deep, chesty coughs made you wake up, glassy look on your eyes as you sat up, staring at the void.

“Y/N? how are you feeling malyshka?” Nat asked, closing her book to give you a proper look.

Your lack of answering made Nat press her hand to your forehead, confirming her worries, your fever had probably risen.

“You’re burning up, I need to take your temperature” she said, while getting up to get your thermometer.

As she re entered the room, you had gotten up and were currently walking in circles on the bed.

“I’m glad you got some energy left, but please sit down for a moment.” The redhead said, suppressing a chuckle

You did as you were told and Nat placed the thermometer under your tongue. Because of your previous “exercise” you were shivering more obviously now.

“Try and stay still, baby.”

The device beeped and gave her the verdict.

“39.7, that’s too high for you detka, i’m gonna have to give you a shower.”

“T-too cold!” you said, trying to get inside Nat’s hoodie

“Get outta there! you’re too warm!” She said while giggling about your silliness.

Pushing your head out of her clothes, you locked eyes with her and immediately started crying and flinching away from her.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? are you hurt?” she asked, panicking.

“GET AWAY FROM ME! YOU’RE MY OPPONENT!” You yelled, trying to free yourself from her grasp.

Oh, your memories from the red room must had returned in your feverish state, and the black widow hated to see you in pain. And it really hurt her to remember about the way you saw her before.

“Baby, you’re delirious, you’ll feel better if you go and lie down.” Nat tried to coax you out of that state, still holding you firmly so you wouldn’t get hurt.

Still, you managed to get away from her hold and opened the door, ready to run through the compound.

And you would be successful, if Wanda weren’t passing by.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” The witch took a firm hold of you, picking you up.

“LET ME GO!” you yelled, your voice getting hoarse both from all the yelling and from your cold.

“Wanda! she’s delirious and wont calm down” Natasha said desperately.

Wanda understood and with a swift of her hands, she managed to put you to sleep, adjusting your body so you were being carried in a bridal position by her.

“Thank you so much, she could have gotten hurt without you”

“Don’t mention it, she’s really warm, I think we should put her back in bed.”

When they tucked you in, Wanda glanced at Natasha, she looked exhausted and shaken by your outburst.

“Hey, what about I put you to sleep too? you look like you need some rest.” Wanda said tenderly.

“Thanks Wands, but I really should stay awake in case she needs me”

“Let’s do it like this, you try and get some sleep, and I’ll stay right here looking over the both of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely”

Tucking Natasha in, the witch gave a kiss on her temple, lulling her to a much needed rest, and walked over so she could lay down on the other side of the bed, having you in the middle of both women.

“Sleep well, angels, i’m gonna take care of you.”

[kingkatsuki]

Dabi / Todoroki Touya & @medusashima

How you meet.

You look completely fuckable in your outfit, and he’s not the only one that’s noticed it. There’s guys that stop mid-conversation to follow your movements as you walk by, childish wolf whistles like you’ll come on command (and maybe you will, but not like this Dabi thinks) or the ones that make an absolute fool of themselves by trying to talk to you. Those ones piss him off even more, because they think they actually have a chance with you. Dabi is far more subtle, and even with absolutely no game he’s still better than all these fuckers.

What’s worse is they always try and do it during a set, trying to shout in your ear over the loud riffs of music that blast through the speakers. Not that you’d want to talk to them anyway, but they could at least have some fucking etiquette right?

Dabi wasn’t jealous, he never got jealous— or at least that’s what he was telling himself as he decided to cut in. Crushing his plastic cup beneath a steel-toed combat boot as he made his way over to you. He was just doing his community service for the day, being a real philantophist— he was a fucking saint.

You stumble in shock as a guy twice your size barges past you with no regard, knocking your— very expensive— drink to the ground with no care. You’re already prepared to cuss the asshole out for having absolutely no manners a tatted hand reached out to grab his forearm.

“Better watch where you’re going, asshole.” Dabi speaks smoothly, his voice carries even over the loud music as the guy, who was preparing to fight, takes one look at him before backing down.

“What were you drinking, sweetheart?” Dabi motions to the plastic cup that now lay empty and lifeless between you as you tell him your drink of choice, “And I’ll take a beer since you made me miss the last fuckin’ song.”

You can’t hide that you’re grateful, even if you could’ve dealt with that guy yourself this was certainly much quicker. The drunk loser didn’t seem to know how to take no for an answer, even though your pretty much told him to fuck off it seemed far more affective coming from the broody male standing beside you now.

But what you don’t expect, is for the large, hulking brute of a man to actually come back with two drinks in his hands. Handing them off to the tatted guy before practically scampering away.

The guy hands you the drink with a smirk as he continues to stand beside you while the band plays, at least having the common courtesy not to interrupt their set.

And that’s how you find yourself waking up in your hotel room with a complete stranger and your fishnets ripped. And it works out for Dabi too because he scored a pretty girl, and he definitely didn’t book a hotel room.😭

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Hey, I saw that you have opened requests (I hope I'm right, because I don't want to bother you!!!)

I recently saw ur fic "claimed" With LH Arthur and damn, loved that.

So was wondering...

Reader is annoying/teasing Arthur just for fun, to make him hella mad, but doesn't know that she would have to face the consequences of her actions 👀

Maybe enemies to lovers or some stuff like that.

Pretty please very dom LH Arthur if that's not a problem ❤ (with smut))

Totally understand if you don't have time or I was mistaken and you don't accept requests! Anyway love your writing so much ❤

Dangerously Daring

Warnings: Smut, LH!Arthur, dirty talk

Word Count: 4,243

A/N: Phew...I had a lot of fun writing this. Definitely missed some good ol' fashioned LH Arthur!

“You’re drivin’ me insane.” 

Blue eyes like ice chips, glaring at you with raw anger and frustration. His hulking figure towered over you like a grizzly bear, ready to attack. Anyone else smart enough would run or quake in their boots. 

But not you. 

An impish grin slid across your lips. “And what are you gonna do about it?” you teased. 

The man visibly bristled before you, thick forearms flexing and contracting as he balled his fists in and out. He stepped closer, his hot breath stirring the hair on the crown of your head. 

“You sure you wanna find out?” 

--- 

It all started when you were just a simple farm girl, lost in daydream of a more exciting, adventurous life as you were feeding the chickens early one morning. One drab chore of the many you performed on a daily basis. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, and you were up with the animals. It was honest work, at least that’s how your father put it, absent of danger or turmoil. 

At least that’s how it was until you’d surprisingly discovered someone rather unusual in the barn one wet morning. 

It seemed that one of the foals has taken a liking to a stranger, curled up on a bale of hay, the velvet muzzle of the curious baby horse nosing at a ring of golden-brown locks. 

The man himself appeared rugged, wearing a worn blue shirt and old, faded patched jeans. Your gaze had landed on the gun belt laying loosely on his hip, the shiny twin revolvers glinting brightly even in the cloudy, dewy morning. Your eyes widened. 

He twitched as the foal tried to take a bite of his hair, grunting and swatting at the poor animal before his eyes opened. 

And locked gazes with you. 

He jumped up immediately before casually straightening his clothes, as if he’d meant to be found in such a way. “Sorry,” he grumbled, voice raspy from sleep. “Thought this was a hotel.” 

You giggled at his reaction, knowing damn well he was lying. As rugged as he appeared and well-armed, he was definitely up to something other than catching a few winks on your family farm. Your better intuition told you to be more suspicious. 

“Odd place to find such, since we’re far from any halfway decent town,” you said. “Can’t imagine a hay bale is comfortable.” 

The man brushed off a few strands of hay stuck to his clothing. “You ain’t lyin’,” he grunted, stretching out his back. “I won’t bother ya no more,” he reached down to snatch up an old hat from the ground just as your curious little colt was nosing at it. 

That was six months ago. 

The man you’d come to know as Arthur Morgan, a dangerous outlaw and a part of a notorious gang of criminal masterminds. An outlaw that could have easily plundered his way through your home with little effort. 

That same outlaw ended up saving your life just a few short weeks later, when a different set of robbers set their sights on the farm. You were aroused from your slumber to a loud crash within your house. Your father had just enough time to hide you before he was discovered and dragged away. 

The burglary didn’t last much longer afterward. You swallowed your fear and tried to sneak away only to be caught and tied despite your efforts. They’d set your house and farm on fire, guffawing while your animals scattered into the night. It was only by pure luck did that golden haired man happen to pass by that night, quickly putting an end to whatever sinister plots they had for you. 

He could have left you alone after, to leave you to your own devices and to figure out how to survive, but he didn’t. 

He took you to the rest of his gang, where you were greeted with a bowl of hot stew and a warm blanket to sleep under for the night. 

It would have only been for a few days; you’d once convinced yourself. A few days to recuperate, get yourself some food and a horse to travel on. Well, you’d sunk your claws in much deeper than you intended. 

Quiet as a mouse you were, timid and keeping to yourself. Arthur would occasionally check on you during your first week to ensure you were settling in, otherwise he allowed your space. As you grown accustomed to gang life and involved yourself in the group, he was more welcoming. He took it upon himself to teach you how to shoot and gifted you a Schofield revolver after finally nailing ten out of ten bottles and cans on the makeshift range. 

Pretty soon you were an active part of the gang. Running jobs, earning and stealing money, living a life you’d never dreamed to lead. 

And you certainly didn’t mind Arthur’s growing company. He was the one to ask you most often to accompany him on a trip, whether it be a planned heist or a simple run to the local general store. Those moments you’d learned more about him rather than just the sleepy gunslinger you found on your family farm. He was a gentleman; a proper mannered person behind the gruff exterior. 

Dare to say, you’d grown a little too fond of him. And perhaps, he was starting to feel the same. 

One particular night amongst a few others, you’d recalled that fateful morning of meeting Arthur sleeping in your barn, when he sheepishly admitted he himself was scoping out the place to rob. 

That didn’t surprise you in the slightest. Back then you wouldn’t know what to do, fall to mercy of a gruff outlaw while he robbed you blind. “And why didn’t you?” you’d asked him, planting your fists on your hips firmly. You certainly appreciated the honesty, as awkward as it was. 

Except he hesitated, cleared his throat and ducked his eyes beneath his hat. It was then when Javier piped up from across the campfire, “Probably ‘cause he met a pretty lady! Mujer hermosa!” 

“That ain’t it!” Arthur was quick to defend himself. “Jus’...weren’t the right time.” 

You had to laugh at that. Arthur was a rather stoic man, rarely showing much emotion aside from a glimpse, usually after a few drinks. Seeing him flustered gave you an inexplicable amount of joy. And so, you made it a goal to fluster him when the opportunity presented. 

You never thought teasing the grumpy outlaw would be as fun as it was. 

You’d make a sly comment here or there, usually in good fun after a few drinks. He’d either shrug them off or grumble a response under his breath. Eventually some others caught on, following your tease with a quip of their own. Sometimes he’d have a counter, but never anything substantial. Other times he’d seem annoyed but was too much of a gentleman to really snap at you. You’d seen him bristle, become a total brute from time to time, but never toward you. 

Some nights ago, it was late. There were just a few sitting around the campfire, sloshing down a couple of beers, unwinding after a long day. You and Arthur had been tasked on a stagecoach robbery earlier that day. While overall successful, one small hiccup manifested into Arthur falling off his horse and into a mud puddle. He emerged without a scratch, but you couldn’t help but to be amused at his sullen, dirty appearance. You recounted the tale to those back at camp, easily inducing the humor while Arthur sat quietly with a beer bottle, most of his face hidden by the brim of his hat. 

The chatter slowly died down and one by one people were turning in for the night, until it was just the two of you. As the pull of sleep called you, getting to your feet and stretching out before yawning a goodnight to Arthur. 

Just as you were walking away, you heard his voice, not in a return of gesture. Instead, his voice was low. “Best watch yourself.” 

You stopped in your tracks then, turning to face him. “What was that?” 

He remained in his same position, not moving an inch, except his head. His eyes appeared from underneath his hat, bright in the flickering embers of the dying campfire. “You heard me,” he murmured to you. “Only a matter of time ‘fore all that jokin’ is gonna catch up.” 

You blinked in surprise, the tone of his voice casting a shiver down your spine. He stood up and approached you, stalking like a predator eyeing their prey. He stopped close, so close, his gaze traveling up and down slowly. When he leveled with your own, his eyes were dark, staring, spiking deep into your soul. 

--- 

Perhaps you should have listened. 

Your back hit a solid, rough tree trunk. Surrounded by woods and bushes, Arthur had you cornered. Just moments ago, you’d cracked a joke. A simple, harmless joke—at his expense, of course—forgetting about the warning he’d given you just a few nights before. 

As angry as he was, you knew he’d never hurt you.  

His hands slammed onto the tree, caging you in. His intense stare, bright even in the darkness, a withering glower. “You’re pushin’ me to the edge, woman!” 

You should be terrified, but you weren’t. How exciting it was to see him riled up like this. You kept your gaze even with him, not once showing one indication of backing down. The corner of your mouth twitched into a defiant smile. 

His face twisted in a snarl, right hand immediately moving to catch your jaw. His rough thumb scraped against your chin as he held you rather roughly. Somehow it didn’t even hurt. 

And then his lips crashed to yours, hot and sloppy. Your body’s automatic reaction was to melt to him, surprised by this but not adverse to it in the slightest.  

He was stronger than you, that was obvious. He’d managed to pin you against that tree without breaking away, his other arm wrapping around your waist. Your own arms slung around his neck, hugging around his broad shoulders, taut and warm beneath his button-down shirt. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he broke free, gulping down a breath of air as you did the same, lips hot and tingling. 

Arthur stared, the wild light in his eyes hadn’t dulled. 

Your heart was racing, heat creeping in various places of your body. Excitement pulsed through your veins. 

He was on you again. His grip on your chin released to favor your hair, curling his fingers within your locks and holding you there with what seemed like a desperate grasp. His mouth moved rather aggressively, prying open your lips and you let him. Steamy breaths mixed, tongues caught in a tango as he devoured you. His body pressed against yours, awakening something deep, stirring a myriad of emotion you’d never felt for another man before. 

Hell, you’d never let another man ravage you like he was.  

You’d almost missed him moving his hand elsewhere, gripping your thigh to hitch your leg onto his hip, a move that shot a burst of excitement through your core. You’d unintentionally let out a small moan, though muffled by his efforts. 

He hummed in response, fingers sliding past the rolls of your skirt to the thin fabric of your underclothing, the heat of his hand nearly burning despite the barrier. 

Pulling back again, his smoldering gaze settled to yours. He was wordless, chest heaving, but the intent on his face was perfectly clear. 

You nodded, once, your own heart racing. 

He didn’t hesitate, his palm coming to rest on the curve of your ass. He squeezed, earning a slight squeak from you, before finding your bare skin. The calloused pads of his palm almost tickling the soft surface of your belly as he ventured lower, lower still, invading your innermost privacy. 

His finger prodded through your folds, giving an exploratory swipe. The grin on his face nearly made you blush. 

“Already that wet,” he murmured. “Was you expectin’ this?” 

You didn’t answer, only managing to give him a smile. The leg still hitched at his waist opened invitingly. 

He growled in satisfaction, sliding his thumb down to the hood of flesh that housed your clit. He played you like a fiddle, a small wave of pleasure bubbling to the surface. You bit your lip to keep from moaning out loud. 

Arthur’s lips attached to your jaw, teeth grazing against your pulse point. You could only hang on as he pleasured you. You whimpered quietly, his name sliding off your tongue like smoke. 

His pace hastened, his finger sliding into your entrance, buried to the knuckle. Your inner walls welcomed him in without resistance. He teased your center, thumb and finger working in tandem. Another quiet moan slid from your lips as you trembled against him. His mouth decidedly began to leave marks along your neck. 

“That’s it,” he growled against your sweaty, bruised skin. “I want to feel ya.” 

Hell, you could reduce to a puddle for him with that tone. Low and demanding. You’d only heard it when he had someone cornered, guns up and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. That domineering tone always left someone cowering and bending to his will. 

And it excited you all that much more. 

You bucked into his hand, vainly searching for more friction, more of him. He straightened up and stared at you, a teasing smirk sliding across his lips. 

“Needy lil’ thing, ain’t ya?” 

You moaned to him, grinding down into his palm. He however slowed down, his free hand digging so hard into the meat of your ass it made you wince. 

“Ah ah,” he chided lightly. “You want more, you’re gonna have to be good.” 

“Good?” you repeated. 

“Be a good girl,” he purred to you, leaning in as his breath ghosted across your face. “And you’ll get what you want.” 

You understood immediately, though having no further moment to consider when he picked up again, pressing against your fleshy nub and curling his finger within. It’d almost caught you off-guard, gasping quietly as you rested the back of your head against the tree, focusing on keeping your voice down. 

He was slow and methodical at first, drawing out your pleasure, eyes fixated on you as you chewed on your lip, fighting yourself not to grind down on his hand again. It was hard; the selfish intent all but screaming at you in your head. 

He was very watchful of your expression, that damned smirk knowing he was getting to you. “You want more?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammered, surprised by how shaky and desperate your voice was. 

He hummed in satisfaction, a second finger poking at your entrance before joining the first. The stretch was minimal, but from all the built-up need, it felt too damn good.  

“Arthur...” you sighed as he increased his pace, yet again fighting the urge to move with him. It was too irresistible, and you bucked into his palm again. 

The smack of his other palm against your ass nearly had you reeling. 

“What’d I say?” he growled in that voice again. That dangerous voice that both terrified and excited you. 

Your only response was a squeak, but the rush of your pleasure increased fivefold. 

Arthur seemed to take notice, the look of sly triumph appearing on his face. “You like that,” he chuckled. “Like it when I rough you up?” 

“God, yes!” you spoke a little too loudly. Having realized you smacked your hand across your mouth. The ideal of someone else hearing— 

He chuckled again; a dangerous tone. You were at his utter mercy, a victim of his game. “Good girl,” he breathed to you, voice dripping with honey. A shiver raked through your body, grateful for the praise as you moaned wantonly through your fingers. The embers in your core fanned into a fire, an eruption soon on the horizon. 

“A-Arthur,” you stammered, nails digging into his shoulder. Should you keep it at bay? 

Oh, that sly look of his. He knew what was coming. “C’mon, don’t keep me waitin’,” he instructed, dragging his thick fingers against your velvet walls, his thumb never leaving your clit. His eyes like icy shards boring into your very soul. 

You didn’t have to be told twice. The excitement, the fear—the way he managed to weasel into you, all too much. A few short, savory seconds ticked by, stoking the raging fire until it exploded, rushing through every muscle, every nerve, your body contracting around him. You choked back a moan of satisfaction, only to have Arthur plant his lips to yours, selfishly stealing your pleasure from you. 

As the waves ceased, his fingers lightened up though never pausing. You wriggled, wincing from the overstimulation, whining against him. Any attempt to move away was wasted effort from how he had you pinned. 

Finally, he removed his hand, allowing you to catch your breath. Your legs trembled beneath you as you attempted to stand, but thankfully still had his arm to support you. 

He held his hand up to the moonlight, dampened and glistening in the silver glow. He smirked and brought it to his mouth. Your eyes widened and heart leapt when he lapped up your fluids, savoring it like a delicious steak. 

His eyes set to you again. “Take off your clothes.” 

Your fingers worked faster than your mind, disrobing yourself without second thought. Your blouse and your skirt fell to the forest floor in a heap, leaving you in just your chemise and bloomers. As you began to peel the next layer off, you’d caught a glimpse of what was to come. He'd exposed himself, erect cock in hand, pumping lazily while he watched you with a hawk-like gaze. 

Your mouth watered at the sight. Thicker than expected, enough to send a fresh wave of pure need at the thought of him stretching you out. You hastened your pace until you stood before him, naked as the day you were born. 

Completely and utterly exposed to this dangerous outlaw, much more than any halfway decent man. 

His eyes raked over your figure hungrily, as if you were a treasure, beckoning for his greed. “Lay down,” he rumbled. 

The forest floor was surprisingly soft against your back. Even in this level of exposure, beneath his domineering command, you still wanted to tease. You spread your legs and slid your hand sensually down the midline of your body, toying with yourself, watching as his body shifted at the sight. 

A split-second break in his demeanor, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he growled, kneeling before you and shimmying his jeans halfway down his thighs. Knocking your hand in favor of his own, fingertip sliding through your slit. He groaned at your wetness, scooting forward and forcing your legs even further apart. His hips bucked forward, sliding his length along your folds, teasing you on his own accord. You shuddered at the mere touch, impatiently waiting for him. 

“So damn pretty,” he grumbled. “Open and ready for me...like a good girl.” 

You smiled at him. “Then take me.” 

His hands gripped your thighs, shoving himself in without a second of hesitation. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, the stretch unlike anything you’d imagined. He filled you so deliciously, so perfectly— 

Arthur didn’t give you a chance to even think. Slamming himself in and out of you like a machine, a vice grip on your legs as he had his way with you. You squeaked and moaned, clawing at the soft earth for purchase—to ground yourself from getting too lost in your ecstasy. His name gasped from your lips more than you cared to count. 

He stared down hard at you, brow furrowed and eyes bright. “Look at you,” he purred. “Callin’ my name like a songbird—” his voice cracked slightly from his own pleasure. “You like bein’ fucked like this?” 

“Y-yes,” you mewled, absolutely writhing beneath him, tilting your head back. 

One hand left your leg in favor of your jaw. Strong but not painful yet forcing you to look at him. “What was that?” 

“Yes!” you repeated. “God, yes, Arthur Morgan!” you sang, uncaring of your volume now. Everything felt too damn good to keep contained. 

That wicked grin split across his face. Maniacal and satisfied, he released your chin, his rough palm landing onto your breast. He wasn’t gentle, but you didn’t need him to be. The way he squeezed your mound, pinched and rolled your nipple between his fingers. Further he ventured before returning to that bundle of nerves—Jesus, it was a miracle your soul hadn’t left your body. 

But that second wave was coming, rushing fast and you didn’t intend to prolong it. Your hand swung up and raked at his back, signifying its arrival. 

Arthur took the hint right away, piledriving even harder with a grunt. “Go on,” he huffed. “Let go for me.” 

Within seconds your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, just as powerful as the first, sending your body into a back-arching, toe-curling convulsion. The sound from your mouth so lewd you almost didn’t recognize it as your own. 

Like before, his hand didn’t let up, milking you of your orgasm until the last drop. His eyes so intently focused on you, a half smirk on his lips despite how hard he fucked you. “That’s it,” he chuckled, only removing his hand when you began to writhe again. He then pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness feeling foreign. He gestured for you to turn over. You did hastily, positioning on your hands and knees for him to grab your hips. Only a short second passed before he buried himself back in, continuing as if there hadn’t been a pause. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, fingertips digging deep enough into your flesh to bruise. Skin slapping skin filled your ears, almost drowning out your mewls and moans. Your fingers dug into the soft dirt, the only leverage you had. 

You pushed your ass further back against him, forcing him even deeper. The groan to follow was guttural, beastly. His right palm slammed upon your butt, drawing a squeal from you. The sweet sting only added to the once again hastily growing pleasure. 

“Damn, woman,” he growled to you. “You’re drivin’ me nuts.” 

You couldn’t help but to giggle breathlessly to yourself, knowing that is what exactly led you two here. Even in such a compromised position, you could still play. 

He leaned over you, torso caging yours in as his hands left your hips to favor your tits. He squeezed and pinched just as before, short breaths tickling your ear. He whispered, “I’m close.” 

It sent a shiver down your spine. You egged him on, rolling your hips and arcing your back like a cat in heat. You were melting in his grip yet manipulating him, his near animalistic groans like music to your ears. He hissed your name—oh did it sound so lovely—before straightening back up, pounding himself with abandon. 

It wasn’t much longer until his hips began to lose rhythm, and his presence once again disappeared from you. A deep groan sounded, followed by a sudden streak of heat on the already burning skin of your butt. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him kneeling there, hand around the base of his cock, a pearly string of his spend the only thing connecting you to him. 

His chest heaved, his skin dewy in the moonlight. Even in the silver wash and still fully clothed, the shadows accentuated his muscles perfectly. Good lord, he looked amazing. 

Once his breathing regulated, he gazed upon you as if you were a masterpiece. “Beautiful,” he snickered, reaching around his neck to remove the handkerchief and, with surprisingly gentle hands, wiped the mess he’d left on you. 

You smiled in response, slowly turning yourself to face him. “I should make fun of you more often, Mr. Morgan." 

The fire in his eyes returned, despite how visibly exhausted he appeared. “Can’t guarantee I’d let ya get away with it,” he rumbled. 

“Guess I didn’t learn my lesson,” you teased, your smile turning into a smirk. “Another punishment in order?” 

He scoffed in response, though reaching to trap your jaw in his hand with the same grip from earlier. He leaned in close, his breath tickling your nose. “What did I say ‘bout bein’ good?” he warned. 

If your own body hadn’t been crying for bed, you’d damn well be out here all night with him. “I can be good...sometimes,” you countered. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. Instead of responding, he released your jaw and stood up, offering you a hand which you gladly took, surprised by how shaky your legs were. 

He tucked himself back into his pants while you redressed, albeit somewhat clumsily. Your clothes stuck awkwardly from how sweaty your body was. Your hair had been disheveled with pieces of nature sticking out here and there. Arthur however looked the same as he did before, aside from the fresh rosy hue on his cheeks and a forehead dampened with sweat. 

Walking back to camp would be interesting. You secretly hoped no one else was still up late enough to hear your shenanigans. 

[derpylittlenico]

the following brought to you by Shower Thoughts tm tm tm

a "whump but not actually" not-fic? fic idea? whatever.

...

ok, so.

we know stiles is a pending accident on long legs. this isn't a secret.

but what if some member of the pack (maybe a mother henning Scott? or curious Allison? hell, maybe goddamn Isaac being a nosy bitch) accidentally catches a glimpse of a shirtless Stiles, and. just. bruises. bruises all over. from nip to goddamn hip.

cue...whoever...losing their shit via mass text to everyone else in the pack, because??? je m'fuhkin escuse? thu fucc??

I mean they are understandably Worried, bc those are so not lacrosse bruises. they would have seen that shit happen, and definitely heard about it too, because Stiles is unafraid to whine loudly, at great volume...well, unless he's actually hurt. so the fact that he's said nothing?

they are totally having guilt spirals, wondering is Grumpy Brows was right about wolves being too rough to be safe around humans, and is that why didn't he say anything??? bc he's spiteful and didn't want have to admit maybe Derek was right? bc omg, he'd totally not mention deep tissue bruising just to spite Derek.

(cue lots of Scott hand wringing and worried frowns. maybe even Derek staring melodramatically out of windows too dusty for even him to see out of bc he's Like That)

only?

......yeah, no, that's not what's going on, at all.

bc, see, Stiles is friends with the ladies from the Jungle. They are his best bitches, and he's learned not to bitch about a few minor bruises after hanging around people who routinely put on staggeringly tight compression tights and five inch high heels. Never mind the plucking and waxing.

It only took one Amateur Drag Night for him to learn to "suck it up, buttercup."

but anyway. they are his besties from other people's testes, and so drag his happy ass into shenanigans as often as possible.

...which includes pole classes at the local rec center, Thurs afternoons and every other Sunday evening.

and yeah, the bribe of free food following a two hour Lady Guhgah boogy sesh in short shorts is a nice bribe, but he doesn't really need to be bribed to hang out with them. They're a fuhkin blast to hang out with, and have some Stories.

(and also don't ignore him when he asks if they think he could be attractive to gay guys)

and ofc, though he only came for the good music and better company, he'd still put his entire ass into it and get really good at it. bc, as the queens have taught him, if he's not serving absolute cunt when the opportunity arises, why even bother.

but before all that, while he's still learning?

he'd bruise.

a lot. like? a lot a lot a lot.

bc the thing tv and movies don't tell you about pole dancing is that part of the trick is training your skin to kinda...stick? suction on? to the pole like Cameron Diaz stuck to the car windshield in That One Scene in The Counselor.

(but he doesn't talk about that movie. or that scene. bc some things just need to be forgotten.)

tl, dr?

in those early days, while he was still clenching more than clinging, in between getting dumped on his dump-truck, he admittedly looks like he's been PvPing the Hulk for funsies. Or picking fights with Creepy Grandpa Argent. Or just, like, generally slamming himself into walls.

so yeah.

"whump but not," bc the pack is scrambling to find a way to have an intervention over Stiles hiding injuries, bc he forgot to mention he and Jizz Taylor and Gloria Hole and Bicurious Georgia have decided to learn pole technique alongside Natalie Martin, a few bikers from the local biker bar, and Stiles' 55 yr old neighbor.

[galactigoos]

What Happened Last Night Pt.2 - Jack Russell x Reader

Summary: You wake up feeling less content than you had falling asleep. Then Jack drops the bombshell of a lifetime on you. You don't take it well.

Warnings: fluff (savior it, this chapter is rough), learning you're a werewolf, mentions of an animal attack, a bit more info on reader, no ted :(, and hmm what am I forgetting? oh yeah. Angst. Like a lot. I’m so sorry for all of you that were just here for the fluff. I promise there will be more in the future.

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/N: I was trying to get this out by Halloween, then by Día de Muertos, but this chapter took about two hours longer than the last one because I needed it to be juuuust right. I hope I did it justice.

Cross-posted on AO3 as always

Part 1, Part 3

Part 2-

When you woke up, Jack had fallen asleep beside you. He sat crisscrossed, his head propped up on his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He swayed a little, his unconscious body trying to maintain balance. It made you smile.

Ted was nowhere to be found, although you did find some clothes laid neatly beside you. Nothing fancy, simply some old, baggy t-shirt and some sweatpants, but it was definitely better than staying naked in the forest. You threw the shirt over your head and, with some difficulty, managed to shimmy the sweatpants on without agitating your broken ankle too much. You leaned back with a huff, which apparently was enough to wake Jack.

He startled slightly, his head slipping from his hands. As soon as he got his bearings, his focus snapped to you. He grinned widely.

“You’re awake!” You nodded, a little taken aback by his enthusiasm. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m alright,” you said slowly, still groggy and a little weirded out by how much attention was focused on you. When you were actively bleeding, that was one thing, but this man was looking at you like he had to commit every detail he saw to memory, as if you were going to suddenly disappear before him.

His smile fell slightly and he focused his gaze on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I wanted to watch over you and make sure you were alright but… I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Ok, so when you weren’t delirious with pain, this guy was super weird.

“That’s okay. I didn’t expect you to stay by my side at all times,” you shrugged. 

Jack murmured his assent.

“Where’s Ted?” you asked, more to make conversation than anything else.

“He’s probably just going for a walk. Or gathering firewood. Or doing something stupid that’ll mean I have to rescue him again.” Jack’s tone was light as he spoke of his friend.

“You,” you said, eyeing Jack up and down, “rescue Ted?”

Jack gave a single nod with a smirk.

“What’s brave enough to go after Ted?” you said, puffing out a snort of incredulity.

“Monster hunters,” Jack said frankly.

“Monster… hunters? As in multiple. Multiple monsters and multiple hunters?”

Jack nodded again. “Is that so crazy to believe? I mean how many times have aliens and superhumans and sentient robots destroyed New York City? Nowadays, fantasy turns into reality all the time.”

He had a point. But everyone knew about the aliens. You’d never heard or seen a credible source of monsters running around. Until Ted, that is. You were questioning this possible new development when Jack cleared his throat. 

He muttered “no hay razón de andarse por las ramas,” to himself, then turned to face you more squarely, his posture straighter than it had been in the meager time you had spent together.

“Speaking of monsters and hunters, what do you remember about last night?”

You really had no idea what had happened. You went to bed in your little one-story house, and woke up in the woods with half an ear and your ankle in pieces. You told Jack as much.

“Well, based on what Ted told me, you… transformed last night,” Jack said, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the fuck does that mean. Are you saying I, like, hulked out and what? Tore myself apart?” Jack’s serious expression broke into a little smile.

“‘Hulked out’ isn’t the terminology I would use, but more or less, yes. Y/n, I think- no I know- that last night, the moon came up and you-”

“I’m sorry are you trying to insinuate that I turned into a fucking werewolf? Seriously, Jack? Do you really think I’m going to believe that I went to bed as me, saw the moon, and turned into some… some beast? Do I look like fucking Lon Chaney to you?” Admittedly, you had begun to yell a little bit, but Jack seemed to have been expecting this. With a stupid smirk on his face he replied quietly, “Well, I mean you did get caught in a bear trap so The Wolf Man is probably the most apt analogy…”

You glared at him and he chuckled, albeit a bit nervously. You glared harder.

“But yes, y/n, I was trying to tell you that Ted didn’t bring you into our camp this morning. Ted brought a werewolf. When the sun came up, you turned back into you.”

He had to be messing with you. This was all some fucked up joke. He probably was some deranged lunatic who kidnapped you and hurt you to fit whatever fantasy you were fulfilling.

“But, don’t freak out, okay? It’s not so bad. I manage pretty well most months,” Jack was obviously trying to comfort you, but the more he talked the worse you felt.

“Oh, so you’re a werewolf now too?” you said tacking a humorless laugh on the end of your statement.

“Well, I’m me. But, yes, a part of me is a wolf,” Jack said, his tone a little less sure as he spoke of the difference between himself and the wolf.

“You're insane.”

“Y/n, I know you can feel it. You feel the ache in your bones from twisting into something else last night. Everything is brighter and louder. You can hear my heartbeat if you listen for it. No normal human can do that,” he was pleading with you to understand now.

And you knew he was right. From the moment you woke up this morning, you’ve been disoriented. Not just because of the unfamiliar location, but the intensity of it all. The way the smell of your own blood had threatened to drown you, the noise of the fire, hell, even the coffee tasted richer. Everything is so much more than it used to be. And it was freaking you out.

Not to mention the fact that you had gotten attacked by… that thing in the woods a month ago. You had been biking home from a later shift at the pub you worked at. It wasn’t too far of a trip from the little secluded cottage you called your own. But it was dark and it was raining, so you didn’t even notice the creature growling by the trees until it pounced on you, knocking you off your bike. It hadn’t had time to do much damage before grizzled old Mr. Kessler had intervened. His truck’s horn and lights had scared it off, and he gave you a ride back to your house. You had been fine to go to work the next day, simply wrapping up the bite mark on your arm.

Honestly, you hadn’t thought much of it. You lived in a farming town, and wildlife was not unfamiliar to you. You had just started carrying bear mace and continued with life as usual. The wound didn’t even get infected. It just went away on its own after a week or two.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I know this is confusing and it’s going to make everything more complicated. But I can help you. Ted and I can stick around for a while, we can figure out what this means for you together,” Jack reached to put a comforting hand on your arm. The arm that had been bitten. The arm that he had probably bitten.

You yanked your arm away from him. You didn’t care how hurt he looked. You were angry. And scared. And you let that cloud your judgment. You let that anger and fear lead you to conclusions you had no basis for, let it push you to lash out like the cornered animal you now were.

“Don’t fucking touch me. I don’t want someone like you even near me. You may have turned me into this, but I won’t be like you. I won’t be some sick freak that kidnaps girls to patch them up after you maul them. I won’t be like you,” you snarled, ignoring the way Jack’s eyes widened, the desperate devastation dawning on his face as you spoke.

“Y/n, no. I didn’t-” you ignored his pleas, instead resolving yourself to getting the fuck away from him. You awkwardly clambered to your feet, the rage you felt numbing you to the pain of your ankle.

“No, no, no, no, no. Y/n, you shouldn’t be walking on that, you’re going to hurt yourself. Just, let me help you-”

“No! Jack, you are not some type of good samaritan savior. You don’t get to help me, or anyone. You’re just some… beast. A fucking animal. A monster,” you spat. You began to walk away, and you knew Jack was about to call out to you. Maybe you heard his mouth open with your newly heightened hearing. Maybe you just needed to get one last dig in. So as you walked away from Jack Russell, you snarled your last words to the man.

“And you deserve to be hunted like one.”

.

.

.

I'm sorry. But I needed some drama. And I mean are you seriously going to tell me you wouldn't be a little bit weirded out by Jack? He's very intense and then he just gives you some life altering news and insists on being apart of this transition. We, as viewers and readers who know Jack, know he means well, but our poor reader character does not have that same context.

Also I've set up a dangerous prescient of having at least one werewolf movie reference in these parts and idk if I can keep that up. Brownie points to you if you can sus out my obscure werewolf homages.

Feedback, criticism, comments, reblogs, and likes are all always appreciated. Please tell me what you think! I really gave this one my all and I hope you guys enjoy it. <3

Let me know if you would liked to be tagged in the future!

Tags: @starfirette, @nicolewithanee, @fangurldayandnight, @zakizigekwe, @for-bebbanburg, @missdragon-1, @howlingco, @arvalee-knight, @emiemiemiii, @spicydonut25, @sparkythefallen1, @girlymusiclover09, @pxl8ed, @littlenosoul, @lemmons1998

[rustychainsnorter]

I don't know what all the hate is for I liked the premiere😭 The voices were only slightly off, I barely noticed it (And so what? It could've been way worse) Sure the plot wasn't mind blowing but I didn't expect much tbh. HUGH JACKMAN THO pffft.

Loved the first bit with Morty checking on Rick. Would love to see my precious best boy more<33

I KNOW! I LOVE THE NEW EPISODE! Was it the greatest? No. Was it the worst? Definitely no. It was just fun and relaxing. We got to see the goofy boys hanging out together with a famous actor. And while it wasn't the most exciting thing, it was a lot sweeter than most content we've gotten before.

I hope you don't mind, but I wanna list things I loved about the episode.

- Morty being used to Rick's sh*t. I just LOVED him pretending that he had coffee. And I love that he checked on him.

- I for one don't care about the change in voices. I appreciate the voice actors, of course, but mostly I'm just grateful that they're still making the show.

- Bird Person is back and his daughter is fire! I would LOVE an episode where bird daughter and Morty go on an adventure!!! *hulk roar*

- Rick was definitely still canon because he tried to avoid primary responsibilities and he forgot Wayne's birthday. Oh, and he started drinking and causing trouble! Very canon.

- This episode reminded me of Analyze Piss because Rick really did try to do the right thing by encouraging Wayne not to visit his x-wife, and everyone started calling him out for being "an a**". Just like in Analyze Piss he said something like "I'm either an a**hole for helping or an a**hole for not helping". Just little similarities.

- Rick genuinely tried to be a good friend. He wanted to go on an adventure with all his friends- THE FACT THAT HE EVEN CALLED THEM HIS FRIENDS THOUGH!!- and he wanted to cheer Wayne up. They got drunk, had fun, caused trouble and went home somewhat content. Rick learned something.

- Hugh Jackman was funny. Why is he playing in so many goofy adult shows? I thought he was hilarious in Big Mouth, but this definitely takes the cake, lol!

- And, last but not least, my favorite part......... RICK IS DEVELOPING! Don't you see it? Rick is becoming a better person! He is growing. He is becoming happier, more considerate, caring and nice! That's literally all I've ever wanted and it's happening! And it makes me SO HAPPY!

I don't care what people say, I loved the new episode and I'm going to keep having faith in the future ones. Like you said, I can't wait to see my precious little bro Morty in the future :'D It's gonna happen. Just one more week!