#but it may spoil some stuff *shrug*

[nereidprinc3ss]

whiny and spoiled

in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs

You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly. 

You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him. 

“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting. 

“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?” 

“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.” 

“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.” 

“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table. 

“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him. 

“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.” 

He circles to the foot of the bed. 

“Are you saying you want to scare me away?” 

“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease. 

You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes. 

“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces. 

“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered. 

“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.  

“Shut up. I’m totally scary.” 

But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you. 

“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.” 

Your eyes narrow. 

“Don’t patronize me.” 

The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.  

“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?” 

You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you. 

“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.” 

“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.” 

“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.  

“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip. 

“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.” 

“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?” 

“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough. 

“I like hearing you say yes.” 

You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate. 

“Yes, you can take them off.” 

A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.  

“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed. 

“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.” 

“My attitude is your fault.” 

“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.” 

“Spencer,” you grit. 

He slings your ankles over his shoulders. 

“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.” 

And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his. 

“Are you just saying that?” 

Another kiss. 

“No! Mean it,” you whimper. 

“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.  

The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds. 

“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur. 

He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous. 

Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.  

His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.  

“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.  

“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.” 

“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message. 

“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?” 

“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.  

Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you. 

“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!” 

He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak. 

You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.  

“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth. 

“You can take it for a minute, honey,” 

A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth. 

The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on. 

“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.” 

“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.” 

“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.” 

“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.” 

You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.” 

“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.” 

“Don’t go spreading it around.” 

“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer. 

“You’re not even a little scared of me?” 

He smoothes your hair away from your eyes. 

“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.” 

You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again. 

“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts. 

“Oh, do I?” 

[sanguineterrain]

Kurt wagner and tail stuff!!! I love that boy! I love how you write! I love the tail! Smashing them together we got a a little piece of heaven! So Kurt wagner with s/o and some tail action pretty please!!

(Like if you need some more then that: for example, the times before they were together Kurt’s tail always seemed to gravitate towards reader (I’m an advocate that Kurt’s tail is like a fricking mood ring) wrapping around them, touching them. The times when they were together! And the time reader wraps their hand or something around his tail or something)

Love your writing! You’re awesome and amazing! And I want to say in advance, thank you so so much for doing this ask! I will treasure it dearly! And if you don’t do the ask then thank you so so much to taking the time to read it! Have a lovely day!

ouuu this is a sweet request <3 tail boy! thanks nonnie :) hopefully I did him justice 🫶 changed the request a bit but kept the same idea about the tail. may write a part 2... we'll see!

kurt wagner (nightcrawler) x gn!reader. fluff, cooking, gambit and rogue trying to talk some sense into the reader.

note: I tried to capture kurt and gambit's accents. however, as always, I'm open to feedback on them. It's definitely not my intention to offend or miswrite anyone!

****

The smell of bubbling cheese wafts from your pot as you stir. It's been a while since you were able to cook for yourself and have a nice meal, always running out to do something or another for the good of the planet.

"Smells good," comes a familiar voice. A moment later, a tail curls around your wrist as you shake some paprika into the pot.

You look away from your stirring into golden, irisless eyes. Kurt grins at you.

"Mac 'n cheese," you say by way of greeting. "Want some?"

"Please und thank you."

Anytime you cook, you offer Kurt to share. You frequently have the thought that you spoil the hell out of him, but you can't help it.

He helps you out by putting away the milk and cheese. But he's never far; his tail remains on you. It slackens from your wrist, then explores up your arm and around your elbow.

It's nothing new, of course. The first thing you learned about Kurt Wagner is how physically affectionate he is.

"That tail seems to have a mind of its own, elfie," you say, smiling down at the pot.

"What do you mean?"

"It's always holding onto me." You turn off the burner.

"Ah." Kurt drops his tail. "My apologies. I can ease up, as you say."

You shake your head. "Don't. I don't mind. Never have."

So Kurt gives you one final tail squeeze. The fur on his arm tickles you as he brushes past. You watch him in confusion.

"Where are you going?" you ask, halfway through scooping two servings of the pasta.

"Not far," he says brightly. "Jean wanted me to bring spoons from the kitchen." He holds up three metal spoons with his tail.

"Spoons?"

He shrugs. "An experiment. Who am I to question a scientist's whim? I promise I will be fast."

He teleports away, and you have a mind to cover Kurt's bowl with a plate. You bring both bowls to the table. At last, a proper meal.

You don't mind eating alone, but that hardly ever happens with Kurt around. Even if he's just eaten, he'll nibble on whatever you've made. You don't know where he puts all that food—perhaps in another dimension—but he makes it a point to eat with you, regardless of whether you've cooked or not. Even if you're in the middle of the forest eating a tin of beans, Kurt will plant himself right next to you and keep you company.

He's a good friend. The best friend you've ever had, actually.

"Woo, smells good!"

Gambit comes in first, followed by Rogue, since the two are never seen apart anymore. Gambit, nosy that he is, makes a beeline to Kurt's covered bowl.

"And what's in here?" he asks, lifting the plate.

"That's Kurt's," you say. "You can get some from the pot."

"Mais, it's Kurt's, huh?" He glances at Rogue, who grins. "Hear that, chère? Not sure if I should take from the pot. Might take my head, too."

You squint as they share laughter. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, nothin'," Rogue says sweetly, taking the seat diagonal to you. Gambit sits next to her.

Your frown deepens. "I didn't say you couldn't have some, G, I just—"

Gambit shakes his head. "Don't go worryin' 'bout that. I'm just teasin'. I think it's cute how you feed the furball."

"Excuse me, I feed myself first," you say, and shovel a forkful of pasta into your mouth.

You hate not being in the know. It happens frequently, being that you're not a mutant. You're here on a personal invitation from Charles due to your "technology skills."

Really, you'd been brought here to fix Cerebro. And after that, you'd sort of just... stayed at the school. Charles had offered you a room, Kurt had won your friendship (or, perhaps, you'd won his), and you'd never left.

"Well, what do you mean, anyway? So what if I feed Kurt," you say, unable to stand not knowing.

"Just seems like where you are, Kurt's never far," Rogue says, watching you eat.

"Yeah, so? He's my friend."

"Oh, un ami. Is that what we're callin' it?" Gambit asks, eyes gleaming with mirth.

"What else would you call it?"

They look at each other in that Siamese cats way. Often, you've had the thought that they can read each other's minds—no powers needed.

"You really don't know?" Rogue asks, voice softening.

"Know what?" you ask impatiently.

Gambit makes a quiet noise in his throat. "Y'all don't know. He's gone on you."

Your brows rise. "Kurt? Don't be silly, Remy."

"Oh, great. You're both in denial," Rogue says, rolling her eyes. "Haven't you noticed how touchy he is around ya? Always huggin' and clingin'."

"Kurt's like that with everybody," you say. "He's like that with Logan!"

"Mais, the tail, it never lies," Gambit says with all the wisdom of someone centuries older. "He don't go wrappin' that tail 'round anybody."

Rogue nods sagely. "True. And he's always puttin' that tail around you."

"But he's..." You put your fork down in frustration. "That's ridiculous. Kurt would've said—I mean, there would've been a sign. He would've told me. Kurt doesn't hide anything from me."

"This is new for him, honey," Rogue says. "He's never been in love for real. He's not gonna act rationally."

"Alors, look at it this way. La Raison parle, mais l'Amour chante. Hm? His body betray his words. It sings to you. Jus' like I sing to ma cherie."

He reaches to take Rogue's hand, eyes practically heart-shaped. Rogue lets him, smiling in that secret, shy way of hers whenever Gambit is sweet on her.

L'Amour...

"Kurt is not in love with me," you say. "End of story."

They both heave sighs.

"Just watch his tail," Rogue says. "Kurt can hide a lot, but he can't control how he—"

BAMF!

You flinch as Kurt teleports into the kitchen. He grins and waves, then bounces around the table to greet the others.

"I'm back!" he says. "I hope my mac did not get cold. Will you be eating with us?"

"No, that's okay," Rogue says, looking at you meaningfully behind Kurt's back. "Rain check. We've gotta go train."

Gambit winks at you. "See y'all."

They disappear quickly. Kurt turns to you, blissfully unaware of your newly formed nerves.

"I am sorry I was gone for so long," Kurt says, sitting down to his bowl. "Jean had some questions about my abilities. Apparently, she's trying to replicate them in a machine."

"That's okay," you say. "Rogue and G kept me company."

Kurt beams. "They are so good for that, yes?"

He shovels a mouthful of mac 'n cheese into his mouth and groans in appreciation. His tail instantly curls around your wrist.

"Amazing!" Kurt says. "Perhaps your special ability is your cooking, hm? I would believe it."

You laugh. "Danke, elfie."

"Bitte schön," he says, eyes lighting up at your German. He frequently informs everyone about how good your German is becoming, even though you hardly know ten phrases.

His tail begins to stroke your arm. You wonder if he's aware of it. If he knows how his tail betrays him.

But no, that's outrageous. And even if it was true, it's not like the feeling's mutual, right?

"Oh, and," Kurt says. "I got us tickets to that show you wanted to see. They're playing it at the theater downtown. We can go on Saturday, ja?"

"You... oh. Wow. I told you about that ages ago, Kurt. You remembered?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he says, tilting his head. Like it hadn't occurred to him to be anything less than thoughtful.

"No, I'm just—thank you. That's really nice of you."

Kurt beams. "I am excited to watch the green witch und her pink friend sing!"

He keeps eating, unaware of the way he's made your world tip on its axis. Because now you know.

You're in love with Kurt Wagner. And the feeling just might be mutual.

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Muggle Activities

masterlist

pairing: tom riddle x female reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, a snippet of protective/jealous tom

summary: you finally convinced tom to go to a carnival with you

a/n: guyss i have a small something planned when i get just a few more followers and im excited :) also i have no clue what the cost of the wristbands are so i just made up a price.

song: best song ever - one direction

"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Tom aggressively sighs.

"You did it because you love me." You stand on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek.

He lowly grumbles something along the lines of, "Yeah, yeah."

You were wearing a pastel blue, knee length sundress. Along with a matching pastel blue ribbon holding your hair back behind your head.

Tom was dressed in black dress pants and white button up. His put his hands in his pants pockets and you grabbed his elbow, pulling him to the ticket stand.

The elder woman looks at you two, "Hello."

You smile at her and fidget with one of the rings on Tom's finger. "Hi! Um, may we please have two wristbands?"

"Sure, that'll be $65."

You go to take the money from your purse but Tom grabs your wrist and shakes his head. He pulls his wallet out and hands her the money.

Before you came, you and Tom went to change some of your wizard currency into muggle money.

You sigh and look at him, "Why do you never let me pay. I feel bad, you're always spending money on me."

He leans over as the lady moves to grab the wristbands. "Who's to say I don't enjoy spoiling you, darling?"

You blush and mumble, "Well, thank you."

"Alright, here you go, enjoy."

You thank the woman and excitedly move away from the stand to put the bands on. "May I see your wrist, sir?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He holds out his wrist and you put it on, he then does the same for you.

"Alright! Where should we go first?"

Tom looks around and shrugs, "I don't know, you're the one who's familiar with these things."

"Hm, let's start with... Zero Gravity!" You grab his hand and start walking towards the ride.

"Do we have to go on rides?" Tom practically whines. "Why not those things over there?" You look at him and see him watching the carnival games. "Muggles think this stuff is fun?" Tom asks as he looks at the ride that swings back and forth as people scream.

"Yep! Oh and don't worry we'll do the games. After a few rides," you grin. "Come on."

You make it to the line and to your surprise, the line was decently short, so you were able to get onto the ride quickly.

You two stand next to each other and the ride starts a minute later, spinning so fast that you two are pushed back against the padding behind you.

After it stops, you two walk off and stand out of the way. "So! How was your first ride experience?"

"It was... nauseating. I don't know what the point of that was."

"I think it was fun!" You bounce on your feet and look up at his hair which got a bit messed up.

You reach your arms up and comb your fingers through his hair, neatening it.

"If anyone else were to touch my hair, I-"

"You would use an unforgivable curse, blah blah blah."

"You know me too well," he gives you a boyish grin. He puts his arm on your shoulders and turns you. Running his fingers through your hair and tightening your bow.

"Thanks, love," you kiss his hand. "Okay, next let's go on the swings!"

He nods and follows you like a lost puppy, although if anyone were to say that they wouldn't have a tongue to say anything again.

You two show your wristbands and find your seats. The ride begins and the swings start going around as it rises into the air. Tom has to admit it's a good view since it's nighttime and everything is lit up.

It spins for about two more minutes before slowing and going low again. When it's stopped you turn to Tom, "That was great, wasn't it?"

He shrugs as you both unhook the straps, "I don't know if I would use that word, but it wasn't bad." You walk over to him and take his hand in yours, walking through the exit. "Where to now, angel?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "How about that roller coaster?"

He looks at where you're pointing and starts to shake his head immediately. "No. Abso-bloody-lutely not."

"Come on Tom! It's not that bad." You start pulling him and you look back at him, "It's practically the same things as the Gringotts Mine Cart."

"I suppose."

You wait a bit on the line and get put in your own cart. You hold his hand and put your free hand on his bouncing knee. "Don't be nervous, love."

He scoffs, "I'm not nervous."

You narrow your eyes at him, "Mhm."

The ride starts and you go all directions at a great speed. It goes in loops and goes up before it drops.

You look over at Tom and see his eyes closed. You smile and poke his cheek. He opens his eyes and looks at you when you laugh, "You're so cute."

He doesn't have time to scold you for calling him cute because the cart takes a sharp turn before going back to where you started.

The man running the ride comes and lifts the bars. You two step out and go down the stairs. "That was amazing," you lean against Tom's side.

"Whatever you say, darling."

"Okay, why don't we get some cotton candy and then play a few games. It's already 10:45."

"Okay," he kisses your head. You two walk over and purchase two cotton candy and then walk to one of the games.

"Tom! I need to win a fish! The poor things are probably miserable in those tiny bags."

"Okay only one though because I don't think Hogwarts allows pet fish."

"Bloody hell," Tom says holding two large buckets full of bagged fish.

"I can't leave them to die in there!"

"As much as I love how caring you are, was winning thirty-four fish necessary?"

"Yes, Tom. That lady was nice enough to let me play for almost twenty minutes. Okay! Next game."

You two walk up to the game with darts you throw to pop small balloons on the wall.

You smile at the guy working the game. He seemed about your age. "Hi!"

He looks up from his phone and Tom places the buckets on the ground. "Hey," he says, lips curving into a small smirk.

"Mind if I play once?" You ask, handing him a five dollar bill.

"Not at all," he winks and hands you three darts. You hand two to Tom and keep the last one.

Tom throws his, popping two balloons. You throw the last one and pop a balloon.

"Great aim," the guy says. "Pick whatever."

You glance around, spotting something before turning to Tom. "That looks like Novalie," you beam at him, referring to your owl. Tom looks behind you and sees the guy looking quite low in a place he certainly shouldn't be.

He turns you around and wraps an arm around your shoulder while he glares at the guy, "We'll take the owl," he says coolly.

The guy grabs it and hands it to you with a charming smile. He opens his mouth but Tom cuts him off, starting to walk away. "Let's go, sweetheart."

You glance back at the guy who's watching you two walk away. "Bye, thank you! Oh, the fish!"

"I'll get them, wait here." Tom walks over and picks up the buckets. You see him lean over and mumble something to the guy who looks like he's seen a ghost.

You hit his arm when he gets to you, "What did you say to the poor guy?"

"Nothing," he says.

"Didn't look like nothing to me."

"Nothing that you should hear."

"Tom."

"Don't 'Tom' me. We should get going, don't you want to get the fish a thing to live in?"

"A fish tank?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, luckily I saw a place called 'PetSmart' on our way here. I'm going to buy so many decorations for it."

You two walk to the car and put the fish on the floor in the back. You two sit down and as soon as you put your seatbelt on, Tom's lips are on your.

He puts his hand on the back of your neck and holds you in place.

You put a hand on his arm and the other on his shoulder. He bites your bottom lip and you lightly gasp. He slides his tongue in your mouth and slides his against yours.

You kiss him for another few seconds and then pull back breathing heavy. "Goodness me, Tom."

"I love you, you know that?"

You furrow your eyebrows, "Of course I do. I love you, too."

"You wouldn't leave me, right?"

"Tom," you peck his lips. "Never in eternity would I leave you."

"Okay. Let's go get that fish tank," he puts a hand on your thigh and starts driving.

[adnauseum11]

Arrival and Assembly Operations (John Price x Reader)

John arrives unannounced, you make dinner.

This is really part one of a two-part scene.

less than 1k words

CW: swearing

Dinner gets pushed back when John arrives unannounced and upset. He’s abrupt and defensive, biting off the ends of words when you ask him what brought him by. He’s evasive about poker – he went but decided not to stay.  

“Bloody hell, I can’t stop by to see you without an agenda now?” He’s huffy, as if his honour is being questioned. 

“You can stop by any time you want, hot stuff. Are you going to be staying for dinner?” You clarify, not willing to give him the fight he is clearly spoiling to have. 

Some part of him must recognize he’s turned up empty handed and unannounced at dinner time because he attempts to course correct despite the lingering grump. 

“If you’ll have me, love.” Annoyance and contrition fight for the upper hand in his tone.

“Of course, it’s your favourite tonight, world’s worst pasta.”

The dish is an inside joke between the two of you, your culinary skills tending towards the improvisational. 

That finally cracks his sullen face with a small smile, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it off the back of a kitchen chair. 

“Do you want me to chop?” He asks, inspecting your recent handiwork piled on a chopping board. He absentmindedly pushes his sleeves up his forearms as he moves. You are a menace with anything sharp, just as likely to hurt yourself as do any real kitchen work. The veggies look so bulky they might as well be steamed and served as a side dish as opposed to anything resembling a proper ingredient for a pasta sauce. You smile at his skeptical look and shake your head, directing him to the table instead. 

“No, think I’ve got them right where I want them. Go settle down, I’ve got a handle on this, Captain. It’ll be edible, trust me.” 

John’s mouth kicks up in a lopsided smile at your misplaced confidence and he folds himself onto a chair at the kitchen table to watch. You hand him a beer in a familiar routine, chatting aimlessly about work while he listens and reminds you to stir this or add that. The bad mood finally shakes free after his second beer and your third, conversation coming easier. Soon his guffaws of laughter are nearly drowning out the fire alarm. 

Somewhere along the line you had grabbed a random saucepan and filled it with water to boil the spaghetti. You hadn’t paid enough attention to the size of the pot and the short-sided saucepan dropped the spaghetti noodles within range of the propane stove’s flame. The pot was nearly boiling when the noodles ignited, startling you into a shriek and making John roar with laughter.

“Fuckin’ hell, I knew coming to see you was the right call. Never a dull moment, love.”

“I’m glad you came over too, this always goes way better with an audience.” You pat his bicep as he carries the torched pasta out to the garbage bin on the front stoop. You can’t help but wonder what happened at poker as you watch his broad back disappear down the hall. A sudden wash of sympathy for your grumpy man comes over you. You know he looks forward to those nights, even if he wouldn’t ever say as much outright. 

The pot was still steaming when he returned, the grim look back on his face.

“Have I mentioned that I hate this place?” He asked, stepping up to the sink to refill the pot. You know that look on his face, the tightness around his eyes and the set to his mouth. He’s trying to keep a leash on his temper.

“It may have come up casually, yes. Are you coming off the bench to assist, cap? I’m assuming you know a trick.” You tease him gently when he replaces the sauce-pan on the burner, trying to pull him back to a better mood.

“Your front door is basically Balsa wood, it’s gotta be a joke, innit?” He grumbles, taking a handful of pasta and standing it on end in the new pot of boiling water and holding it upright. As it softens the pressure of his hand bends it, and after a few moments of swishing it around he is able to fold it enough to get it all inside the pot to finish cooking. 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” You breath, impressed.

“Gotta improvise sometimes, love.” He explains, picking up his beer to lean against the counter and watch it cook this time. 

The long line of his muscular body gets your attention and you bite your bottom lip, picking up your own beer and taking a drink you don’t go wandering across the kitchen to press yourself up against him like an alley cat. He catches on to your line of thought quickly, his observational skills not dusty in the least.

“You truly are trouble in the kitchen. Let’s not spoil a second batch of noodles darling.” The smile he’d been wearing earlier flutters at the corners of his mouth again. 

“Did you think you were going to rescue dinner and get sexually harassed when you came over tonight?”

John tilts his head back and laughs, mirth returning to his eyes. 

“I can only ever hope, love.” He says fondly, smirking as your eyes connect. 

The timer for the pasta goes off and John turns the burner off, taking the pot to the sink to drain it while you watch, finding his competence compelling for some reason. After he finishes with the pasta he heads in your direction, corralling you against the table to kiss you. When he murmurs something about dessert later in to your ear, you wonder if you can convince him to stay the night.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast

[icycoldninja]

Hello! Can you do a dmc boys + V with a rich S/o? Perhaps the boys didn’t know that their s/o was rich when they first started dating but as time went on and the relationship becomes serious the s/o starts to spoil their boyfriends with all kinds of stuff related to the things they like because after the stuff they went through they definitely deserve it.

Aww yes, here you go and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Rich!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-He was completely oblivious to your wealth (as you did a great job of hiding it) and didn't really give it much thought until one day, when his power went out.

-He groaned, suddenly remembering he had no money to pay the bills, but then, astoundingly, the lights flickered back on.

-Was it a miracle? No, even better, it was you. You had paid his bills and gotten him out of debt with Lady--how?! Then you revealed you were rich, and Dante's mind was blown.

-Even after this stunning revalation, Dante still didn't care. He was very thankful for all your help, but he honestly had no sentiments towards being rich. He still treated you the same.

-The only thing he'll ask you for is for you to buy him some pizza, maybe once every week or so. He's not greedy.

-If you decide to shower him with presents anyway, he'll gladly accept and immediately find a way to make it up to you, be it taking you somewhere nice or...something else. No do not read into that

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil never noticed, and never cared. He is far too MOTIVATED to trifle with mundane things such as wealth.

-But then you presented him with a rare copy of a book that was worth hundreds of dollars, and he had to question, how did you obtain the funds for such a thing?

-Thus, you revealed you were absolutely loaded with cash, and Vergil was, understably shocked.

-After thanking you, he went right back to not caring about wealth because now he has this interesting book to read.

-Still, he appreciates it when you gift him little gifts, regardless of what they may be. You could give him a pebble you found on the side of the road, and he'd still treasure it forever.

-To reward you for your generosity, Vergil will do his best to take good care of you, physically and otherwise.

□ Nero □

-Nero didn't think much of it either, cause he's not shallow, but one day, Nico's van broke down in the middle of the road and was assaulted by demons who ripped up the exterior. Repairs were going to be extremely expensive, but then you stepped in and promised to take care of it all.

-Nero had to wonder, where'd you get the funds for that? You sheepishly revealed your wealth and he just shrugged.

-After thanking you and all that, things proceeded as usual, with you and Nero splitting the bills for everything as you always do.

-Nero never asks for anything, regardless of how expensive it is, but you don't care. You shower him with gifts, love and affection because this sweet boy deserves it.

-You two end up leaving little treats 'n things for each other at a designated "drop off" spot somewhere in your house.

-Your gifts always seem to be well thought out and expertly made, proving that you don't just buy meaningless trinkets to appease him, you get him things that truly have value.

● V ●

-V noticed you always seemed to be impeccably dressed, but didn't dwell on the subject since it wasn't all that important. His current objective was to get to know you further.

-Then, as things progressed between you, he found himself constantly receiving little presents on his doorstep, usually wrapped in shimmering velvet bows. There was no name tag and no writing on it, so he had no idea who was doing this or why.

-One day, Griffon caught you placing a little gift box and, Griffon being Griffon, decided to rat you out.

-V then approached you the next day and expressed his appreciation, which led to a massive confession on both your parts. You explained you just wanted to give him the luxury he deserves, and he was very touched, but insisted you didn't need to do that.

-But of course, you don't listen, and continued to spoil him however possible, even if you have to break in at 3:00 A.M. and leave it on his kitchen table.

-Eventually you had him move in with you, where you can treat him like the lovely princess he is.

[misseviehyde]

IN YOUR DREAMS

Sarah knew she was dreaming again... or at least having THE nightmare. It was the same nightmare, the same one she always had.

The bully was everywhere. Sarah could smell her, feel her, taste her and hear her.

Yesssss, you're weak... you're so fucking pathetic. You can't even fight me in your dreams.

Sarah groaned in her sleep - her body drenched in sweat and her face a rictus of terror. Inside her own mind she was paralysed, unable to move as Khloe approached her with steady clops of her black thigh boots.

The bully was impossibly large and powerful. She towered over Sarah and her lips were a cruel smile of ecstasy. She was dressed in tight black clothing and gorgeous from head to toe. She was everything Sarah secretly wanted to be, but never could be. She was perfect.

Rich, powerful, dominant, spoiled. Khloe was a Goddess. She made Sarah feel so pathetic, so small and weak.

You know that I'm going to destroy your friends and your family too - I'm going to RUIN everything you hold dear. I'm going to take IT ALL. But first I'll start with making your greatest nightmares come true.

The bully laughed and advanced on the whimpering Sarah, her nails glinting as she turned her hand into a claw and reached out to her face.

I could tell you that this won't hurt much, but then I'd be lying. Mmmmmh, it's going to be a long night for you loser...

************

Sarah awoke screaming and clawing at her face where the sensation of Khloe's nails still itched and burned like fire.

She shuddered in horror at the memory - the sensation of being dominated and destroyed by the superior girl.

But it was only a dream right? Or rather, a nightmare. A recurring nightmare.

Sarah had been bullied at school, but Khloe was entirely a figment of her own inner fears and worries. She was an amalgam of every girl that had ever teased or taunted her. She was what Sarah hated and feared.

The dreams were so vivid. Khloe seemed more evil and powerful every time. Sarah was starting to worry maybe she was losing her mind. She'd always had a powerful imagination - but now it seemed over-active.

A knock at the door caused Sarah to startle and she smiled weakly as her boyfriend Sam came in with a steaming cup of fresh tea.

"Woah, you look exhausted. Bad dreams again?"

Sarah nodded and he sat down and slid his arm around her.

"I'm so sorry babe. I hate that you keep having these nightmares. I wish there was something I could do to help."

"I know," smiled Sarah as she squeezed his hand. "Hopefully they'll go away eventually."

Sam shook his head doubtfully. "Maybe, but I'm going to talk to my friend Kelly. She might have something that can help."

Sarah sighed, "Oh no, not Kelly who is into magic and all that stuff. Please don't tell me I'm so desperate I have to turn to all that spiritual mumbo-jumbo. Last time it took weeks to clean up the mess those weird candles made."

Sam laughed, "Kelly may be a little kooky, but some of her ideas have worked for me. We may as well try!"

Sarah smiled weakly at him and shrugged. "Well, okay then."

**********

Gazing at the strange web like frame of the dream-catcher, Sam wondered if it could really work, then shrugging finished nailing it into place above the bed. It was a circular contraption with brightly coloured threads stiched across the frame. Feathers hung from the bottom of the hoop.

He was a pretty open minded guy, but he wasn't sure if he believed in magic. Then again, perhaps the benefits of the dream-catcher were psychosomatic and it might still help.

So long as Sarah felt that it might work and her nightmares decreased, he was willing to try anything. He'd do anything to help his girl.

Kelly had explained that the dream catcher would catch bad dreams and nightmares in the web of coloured threads. They would then be burned up and destroyed in the pure natural sunlight the next day.

Sam had to admit he was actually fascinated by Sarah's dreams. He could never remember his dreams, he wasn't even sure he had any. It also entranced him to hear about other peoples and he wondered how it must feel to experience such vivid and surreal mental pictures.

His good work done, Sam tidied the bed, gave the dream catcher a whirl and went off to make a cup of tea. Now to test if it worked!

***********

Sam awoke to a strange feeling. It was like an electic storm or static charge was building in the air.

He'd gone to sleep nearly three hours ago, Sarah by his side and the dream catcher swinging over their heads. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully for once, but above them the dreamcatcher spun and twisted.

Something dark and evil was caught in that web. Sam could feel it. A bad dream... a POWERFULL bad dream was caught. The dreamcatcher seemed to spark with power and energy.

Fascinated he reached up and touched the dream catcher... there was a pink blast and Sam groaned as the world spun and he fell into darkness.

Suddenly Sam was lying on his bed alone and it seemed like the middle of the day. A beautiful bitchy blonde woman was looking at him with disdain on her face and he realised with a start that he must be dreaming.

"Who the hell are you?" she sneered as she brushed back her perfect hair and Sam saw she had long sharp nails and a body that oozed lust and popularity.

"No wait, I know exactly who you are. You're Sarah's pathetic little boyfriend. The weakling little bitch who actually thinks that pathetic loser has anything to offer. I'm Khloe her dream-bully. Nice to meet you."

Sam felt anger flare. "You... you're that dream bully who has been tormenting her every night. Well the jokes on you bitch, because now you'll never be able to harm her again. The dreamcatcher stopped you and now Sarah is safe! Without her imagination to empower you, you'll begin to fade away. Once Sarah forgets about you entirely you won't exist anymore."

Advancing sexily, Khloe straddled Sam and reaching down began to unbuckle his fly. "All your life you've wanted to have vivid dreams, you've wanted to know how it feels to be a dreamer. Well - let me give you something to dream about..."

Khloe's lips twisted into an amused smile. "Perhaps - or perhaps your dreamcatcher has given us both exactly what we've always wanted."

Sam groaned as his cock popped out into Khloe's eager hands and she began to stroke it with her slutty hands. She giggled as she looked down at it. "Cute - but you could do better."

Sam gasped as a feeling of power throbbed through him and his average dick began to swell and grow. It grew thicker, longer and more sensitive. "H... how?" he gasped.

"We're in a dream baby," purred Khloe. "Here, all your fantasies can become true. You can be who you want to be. Best of all, this dream can become reality thanks to your dreamcatcher. Unlike a normal dream when you wake from this one, any changes you have made will become true in reality. If you want them to that is."

"H...how... and how do you know that? It doesn't make any sense."

"Dreams don't have to make sense Sam," purred Khloe as she slowly stroked his now rock hard cock. "Nothing needs to make sense except the pleasure I can give you. From now on you will dream of me every night and make her dream of me too. Then you can have everything you ever wanted. You're going to help me become stronger, not weaker."

"Noooooo," groaned Sam as Khloe stroked and rubbed his enhanced cock. "Noooo, I can't."

"Mmmmmh, yes you can," giggled Khloe. "You're going to help me become an even bigger bitch. We're going to be so good together."

Then with a smirk, she reached down and began to suck his cock.

Sam gasped and groaned in pleasure as Khloe's bitchy pink lips sucked and slurped round his massive new dick. She glugged and gagged happily, easily taking him to the back of her throat and using her sexy nails to tickle and stroke his balls.

Pleasure like he had never known before flowed through him. Sarah didn't like to suck dick, but Khloe clearly loved it. She moaned appreciatively as she worked his cock and sucked and sucked and sucked.

Soon he was cumming in her mouth and it seemed to go on and on and on. The longest orgasm he had ever experienced, an orgasm so good that he never wanted it to end.

Cum dripping down her face, Khloe giggled and snapped her fingers. Sam's cock sprang back to attention immediately and he looked down in amazement.

"We're in a dream remember - the normal rules don't apply. You can cum all night without ever going soft, so we're going to do this again... and again... and again. This is only the beginning baby."

Khloe lowered her lips back to his cock, and Sam groaned as she began to take him back to heaven once more.

**************

With a gasp Sam awoke, his hand on his rock hard cock. Sarah was peacefully slumbering next to him, the dream catcher twirling slightly in the breeze from the open window as Sarah enjoyed her first nightmare free night in years.

Peeling back the sheets, Sam gasped. The nine inch cock now hanging from his groin was just as big and as thick as the one from the dream. Somehow the dream had bent reality.

Now Sam could remember everything. It was the first time he had ever remembered a dream and this one was so vivid. Khloe's bitchy whispers in his mind, her hand on his dick... her mouth sucking and slurping. The promises of more to come if he served her as she desired and helped her.

He knew what he needed to do.

Going to the bathroom, Sam groaned as he pumped his cock thinking of Khloe and he moaned as he began to cum. Fuck - his new dick felt so good. He had to have more, he had to see Khloe again.

***********

Sarah had never felt so liberated. Sam's dreamcatcher seemed to have worked a treat. She had slept so peacefully last night, and not once had she dreamed of the evil bully that had tormented her dreams for so long.

True, Sam seemed tired and was acting weird. He kept looking at her in a funny way and eventually he came over to talk and ask strange questions.

"So you didn't dream about Khloe last night then?"

She shook her head.

"That's good. You never really told me much about her. Is she pretty, what does she look like?"

Sam's questions bothered Sarah. It made her think of the dream bully and brought Khloe back into her mind. His questions were innocent, but the way they were framed made her feel bad. 'Is she prettier than you?'. Why had he asked that? It made her angry and annoyed that her boyfriend should suggest that her bully could be attractive.

"Sam, stop being such an asshole," she screamed as she grew tired of his questions. Now she couldn't stop thinking about that fucking bitch. She couldn't stop thinking about how much sexier and bitchier Khloe was then her. She couldn't stop imagining those perfect lips, rounded breasts and sexy dominant eyes. It was like Sam WANTED her to think about Khloe.

She left the room crying, all the time never thinking to ask the most important question.

How had Sam known her dream bully was called Khloe?

******************

"Good boy, I feel even stronger today," purred Khloe as Sam awoke to find himself back in the dream world.

Moments ago he had touched the dreamcatcher once again and now here he was back with Khloe for the sixth time this week.

Every night Sam had dutifully touched the dreamcatcher and let Khloe enter his mind. Every night the pleasure had become even more intense.

Last night Khloe had let him fuck her like an animal. The feeling of her tight pussy gripping his massive cock, her moans and screams of pleasure as he fucked her brains out... he had never cum so hard.

He had bent Khloe over the bed, his hand gripping her long blonde hair and his hand slapping her ass as with pounding strokes he had fucked her again and again and again.

In his dreams Sam was stronger, more dominant. His body was now muscled and fit and he was taller. On waking he found his body had changed to match his dream and it was as if no one noticed. Whatever changes happened in the dream seemed to leak into reality.

And all he had to do to have more pleasure was to keep betraying Sarah and helping Khloe to become stronger. Fucking her and hearing her grunt and scream was all he cared about.

Indeed Sam no longer cared about the real world. Being here with Khloe was all that mattered. She was his Goddess now.

Sam knew he would do anything for her. She had her claws into his soul. She made him feel so good and every suggestion she made was the right one. He needed Khloe more than he had ever needed Sarah.

Tormenting Sarah and making her think of her bully had become a necessary evil so that he could have the pleasure his body craved. The more he made Sarah remember her dreams, talk about the bully or imagine new situations - the stronger and bitchier it made Khloe become.

Usually when he came to the dream, it would be a fantasy version of somewhere he knew. This time though they were in a room he didn't recognises. It was a boudoir, full of makeup, lingerie and a silk sheeted bed. Seated in front of a tall mirror in a black silk dressing gown, Khloe looked stunning.

If anything she looked hotter than last time. The imagination of both Sarah and Sam had made her grow even stronger.

There was a hunger in her eyes.

"You enjoy fucking me don't you Sam? But you enjoy helping me become more powerful and more evil even more. I know it excites you."

Khloe advanced towards him.

"But do you know what would be really hot baby? Imagine if I could leave the dream and come into reality?"

Sam groaned as Khloe straddled him and stroked his face. "Imagine if I could find someone willing to BECOME me and help me cross over."

Sam looked up in shock.

"Become you... but... how?"

Khloe smiled. "Changes made here in the dream can cross into reality. All you would have to do is imagine yourself becoming me. Let my personality, memories and thoughts become your own. You would become me. You would be Khloe."

Sam groaned - his cock instantly hard. Khloe reached down and began to slowly jerk him off.

"Yesssss imagine it baby. Being me would feel so good, you'd love being a bitch. You'd have my tits and a tight pussy - men would be yours to manipulate and control. You would be the bully. It feels so good to be a bully. Say it... say... I want to be the bully."

Her hand on his cock sped up.

"I... I want to be the bully," moaned Sam nearly drooling.

"Yessss. Imagine it baby. Imagine you have long sharp nails on each finger. Your skin is tanned, you have long blonde hair. Imagine a superior smirk on your lips as you take some weak little boy and make him your puppet."

Sam groaned. His skin began to tingle and he felt Khloe's hand tighten on his cock as she began to pump it faster and faster. Bone's popped and he groaned as his hair began to itch.

"Yessss my tits are swelling up on your chest, your ass is blowing up into mine. Your face is changing... becoming prettier. You fucking love how it feels don't you? Mmmmh, fucking shoot out that cum for me baby, it's the last time you'll ever do it again. Your cock is already shrinking - soon my tight Goddess pussy will be between your legs."

Sam screamed as his cock erupted and suddenly he felt Khloe pinning him down as cum blasted out and coated their bodies. She slid on top of him, the sticky mess seeming to glue them together and he felt her starting to sink into his body.

"Fuck yessss, merge with me Sam. BECOME me."

Khloe moaned in pleasure as they merged. Sam was groaning too. He could feel her breasts on his chest, feel her long blonde hair around his shoulders.

Hips popped and cracked, internal organs moved about. Sam felt his lips twist into a slutty smile as fake tan spread across his skin and he became a fake, popular, mean girl.

"Mmmmh I feel so fucking evil and hot. Yessss make me into a fucking bitch. I want to be Khloe!"

Khloe's superior tits reached their full impressive size and jewellery popped into place. Makeup shimmered over Sam's features and he flexed long acrylic nails.

Feelings of superiority flooded him as he felt Khloe's personality taking control. This felt SO amazing.

"I am a bitch. Yes I am a bitch. I AM A FUCKING EVIL BITCH," he screamed in glee as his voice altered and became Khloe's sexy purr.

Khloe/Sam began to groan and buck. The merging was complete and reaching down he/she began to rub their tight pussy and groan. Ohhh it felt so good.

"I... I'm going to cummmmm!"

Sam screamed as his body bucked and squirted, female hormones rushing round his body. No, wait. She wasn't Sam. She was Khloe.

Sighing, Khloe stretched her perfect body and felt the last vestiges of Sam drop away. What a fucking loser. It had always been his destiny to become her.

"Now I am the bully, I LOVE being a bitch," she sighed happily. Sam no longer existed, and when she awoke from this dream, it would be like he had never existed. Only she remained.

Khloe was evil, manipulative, sexy and popular. She knew in the real world she would be unstoppable.

She couldn't wait to get started.

Khloe walked to the mirror and admired herself for a moment then grinned. It was time to wake up.

She took one last look around her boudoir then snapped her fingers.

It was time to get real. And Sarah had no idea what was coming.

****************

Sarah whimpered as she tried to carry the six heavy shopping bags and coffee for her cruel boss as she staggered after Khloe in the luxurious mall.

Being Khloe's personal assistant was a terrible job, but she was too afraid to quit. Khloe was such a bitch and she was a rich and famous influencer. She had all the power.

"Hurry up you dumb bitch," snapped Khloe as she watched Sarah struggle. "I need my makeover for my hot date tonight."

Sarah nodded. A hot date? That meant another evening of humiliation whilst she waited obediently downstairs and listened to Khloe getting fucked.

Serving Khloe was kind of like a waking nightmare. It sometimes felt like some evil dream she couldn't wake up from.

Perhaps she should borrow the dream catcher she'd seen hanging over Khloe's huge bed? Maybe that would help?

Not that she had dreams anymore.

All her dreams belonged to Khloe now.

[helios-writings]

There are some days when Shanks feels bad about not being able to give you the life he thinks you deserve. Days where you and he barely see each other because the pair of you are working overtime. Days where the two of you sit at the table, stressed about what bills you can cover and what you’ll have to live without.

Others days, he knows, are better. Curled up in each others arms on your days off, the smell of breakfast cooking even though its two in the afternoon. Still, he’d always dreamed about giving you a life of luxury, about spoiling you and making sure you didn’t have to work another shitty job if you didn’t want to. He’s not quite there yet, but he hopes one day he will be.

The two of you are walking hand in hand through the richer shopping district, windowshopping in all the pricier stores that give him hives just thinking about stopping in, but he loves the way you smile as you envision how you would decorate the foyer of your fictional mansion with a giant gold and crystal chandelier.

He laughs, not at you, but at the absurdity of it. “What would we need with something like that, huh?”

You shrug. “Sometimes things are just nice to have.”

He’d buy you a million of those ugly things if it meant making you happy.

Instead, Shanks points to something else. “And where would you put this?”

“Our living room, right next to the giant comfy couch, so I can admire it while I sit next to you.”

The two of you carry on like this, until you find a cozy old antique shop buried inbetween two high end boutiques.

“Lets go in here.” He tells you, stopping you with a gentle tug on your hand.

“Antiques? I didn’t know you liked old stuff like that.”

“I had a crush on our high school math teacher, didn’t I?”

You roll your eyes. “And yet, you’re here with me.”

He elbows you playfully in the side. “Well, she couldn’t compare to you.”

You just laugh and head inside the store.

The inside smells like dust and the culmination of other peoples belongings, but he’s drawn to the jewelry shelf towards the entrance, whilst you wander off by yourself down one of the countless aisles. The shelf holds many pieces of jewelry, but what catches his eye is a pair of wedding rings, obviously on the older side, but the feeling hits him so fast, it feels like his heart has fallen to his feet.

Shanks had never thought about proposing to you. Not in a “terrified of marriage” way, but to him you already were. But, standing in that store, the need had never been more apparent, and the rings were within his budget. It felt like a sign from on high, even if you were the one who believed in signs like that.

You both left the store half an hour later, his wallet a bit lighter, but pocket heavier.

You make dinner that night, something simple, but delicious and Shanks, never one to second guess himself, jumps right in.

“I want to marry you.”

Your eyes widen as you nearly spit out your drink. “Wh-“

He pulls the rings out and continues. “I know you didn’t dream about living in a one bedroom apartment with shitty heating and cooling, and that you deserve better than I can give you, but I promise you that you’ll have it one day. Whatever you want, a big house, dogs or cats, a huge ugly gold and crystal chandelier in the foyer. I want to give that all to you.”

You take his hand in yours. “Shanks, baby, we may not live the life you think we deserve, but I live the life I want with you every day. I don’t care about any of that stuff, not really. So what if our heating breaks in the middle of winter? So what if I can’t have a big yard or house? I’d rather have you.”

He feels his eyes get a little misty and he turns away. “I’m not the one who’s supposed to be crying here.”

You roll your eyes and slip one of the rings on. “I’ll marry you.”

He kisses you deep, a grin on his face that won’t go away no matter how hard he tries.

The wedding takes place in a court house, costing no more than 120 dollars and the two of you wearing the nicest clothes you can afford, but its perfect and neither of you would dream of anything else, not when you have each other. This is the life you deserve, and he can give it to you after all.

[mercillery]

DAD KUZAN? DAD KUZAN.

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD + HEADCANONS + OOC? WHO KNOWS…

NOTES: I wrote this because I think Kuzan would be an amazing father figure…or maybe it’s just me, I don’t know.

If I’m being completely honest here, I really can’t picture him being someone’s biological father either, to be honest. It’s not like the guy doesn’t have the capacity to care—he’s got that hidden soft side—but the image of him actually settling down and having kids of his own? Yeah, no. This is the same man who would rather nap under a tree with his bike leaning nearby than deal with any sort of responsibility beyond his own whimsy.

However, father figure? Now that I can see. I can easily imagine some random kid just latching onto him, following him around after seeing him do something cool (like freezing an entire sea, y’know, normal stuff), and deciding, “Yep, you’re my dad now.” Maybe they start pestering him, asking questions while Kuzan, in his typical fashion, is just casually napping or lazily giving half-hearted responses between long stretches of silence. He’s probably half asleep half the time, not even realizing he’s gained a tiny shadow until weeks later.

He’d probably just go along with it. He’s not one to fuss or overthink things. One day he’d wake up from his nap, find this kid sitting right next to him, and be like, “Arara. Still here, huh?” before shrugging it off. He wouldn’t necessarily raise the kid in any traditional sense—there’s no way he’s waking up early for breakfast or doing school drop-offs. But he’d have a way of teaching them things, unintentionally at times, through his actions. You’d learn a lot from just being around him, whether it’s his strong moral compass or his ability to take life at his own pace, despite all the chaos.

So whether you’re his biological kid or just some random child who decided to stick to him like glue, I can definitely see Kuzan filling that fatherly role, albeit in the most Kuzan way possible: relaxed, a tiny bit distant, but undeniably cool.

First things first, as Kuzan's child, there's no question—he absolutely keeps you as far away from Blackbeard and his crew as possible. Listen, Kuzan may have a reputation for being lazy, but when it comes to your safety? There's not a shred of laziness in him. The man might be laid-back, but he’s sharp, and there’s no way he’s going to let you get tangled up with that bunch of pirates.

For starters, he knows exactly what they're capable of. He’s not naive; he knows Blackbeard and the crew would have no problem using you against him, trying to manipulate the situation, or worse, straight-up threatening you just for the fun of it. He knows that they aren’t exactly a “family-friendly” crowd. And let’s be real—he also knows that being around them would be a terrifying for any child. Their idea of a normal Tuesday is probably your worst nightmare.

So even though he's technically rolling with the Blackbeard Pirates now, when it comes to you, Kuzan’s got this invisible barrier setup. It’s like he’s saying, "Yeah, I’m with them, but you’re not." He’s always one step ahead, working from a distance to make sure they stay away from you. And if, by some unfortunate stroke of fate, you or one of the Blackbeard pirates get too close to each other, Kuzan's immediately on alert. He’s already brainstorming a dozen ways to steer the situation without anyone noticing.

The bottom line? He absolutely does not want you affiliated with the Blackbeard Pirates in any way, shape, or form.

If you’re an ice lover and chewer, then congratulations—you’ve hit the jackpot. Kuzan is basically a walking, talking, 10-foot-tall popsicle. Need ice? No problem; Kuzan’s got you covered. With him around, you’ll never run out of the frosty goodness you crave. Want some ice to chew on? He’s more than happy to snap his fingers and conjure some up for you. But—and this is a big but—there’s a catch.

Because, as much as Kuzan loves to spoil you (in his own laid-back kind of way???), he’s not about to let you go to town on some gigantic ice chunks. You’re just a kid, after all, and he knows your teeth are still those little baby ones. He’s not about to let you chip a tooth on his ice or, heaven forbid, choke on a massive chunk. So instead of giving you the satisfying, crunchy ice pieces you’ve been dreaming of, he hands you the tiniest, thinnest shards of ice you’ve ever seen—basically, ice confetti.

And, of course, you’re disappointed. You wanted the good stuff, the crunchy stuff, but nope—Kuzan isn’t having it. He’s too chill to be strict about most things, but when it comes to your safety, even the king of "I don't really care" has his limits. And broken baby teeth, or you choking on a huge piece of ice? That’s no-go for him.

So no matter how much you whine, complain, or throw a fit about it, he’s only giving you these sad, little wafer-thin pieces of ice. You could scream at the top of your lungs, stomp your feet, or even give him the full-on puppy eyes—and he still wouldn't. I wouldn’t give you those big chunky pieces of ice you wanted.

He’s way too chill to be swayed by your tantrums, and when it comes to ice, safety comes first. So while you might dream of munching on a big, satisfying ice cube, all you’re getting are the Kuzan-approved baby-safe ice slivers.

If you’re cold, Kuzan’s solution is simple: he’ll casually hand over his blue bandana and his dark green trench coat—both of which are comically too large for you. Honestly, you could disappear into them like a turtle retreating into its shell. The bandana? Yeah, it doesn’t just cover your head; it swallows it whole. You’d be lucky if anyone could even find your face under all that fabric. And the trench coat? Well that thing might as well be a sleeping bag. It drapes over your entire body like a blanket, probably dragging on the ground as you shuffle around, but hey, it keeps you warm, right?

Kuzan wouldn’t be lying if he said he finds the sight quite amusing. Every time he hands over his bandana, he watches as it completely engulfs your head, covering your eyes, nose, and most of your mouth. You’d look like a tiny version of him, minus the ice powers and the towering height. And the trench coat? Forget it. You’re practically swimming in it, the sleeves flopping past your hands, making it impossible to move without tripping over the hem. You’re like a walking coat with legs peeking out.

He probably gives a lazy chuckle every time he sees you bundled up like that. “You alright in there?” he might tease, though you know he’s secretly enjoying how ridiculous and adorable you look buried under his oversized clothing. This is his way of keeping you warm, even if it looks like you’ve raided his entire wardrobe.

And if you decide you want to keep his bandana or trench coat? Well, he doesn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, he’ll let you hang onto them for as long as you want. You could wear that bandana like it’s your new identity and drape that trench coat over yourself like a cape, and he wouldn’t even ask for them back. At this point, it’s almost like you’re robbing him of his iconic look. He’s probably already decided you look better in them anyway they don’t cause they’re too big on you, but he finds it cute, so go ahead and keep it all.

I’m not even exaggerating when I say you could probably fit entirely in that knapsack Kuzan lugs around everywhere. Whether you’re too small or his knapsack is just too big is a mystery we may never solve. But seriously, if you ever got tired, cold, or just couldn’t be bothered to walk anymore, there’s a good chance he’d plop you right inside without a second thought. It’s roomy enough, and let’s be honest—it’d probably be more comfortable than trying to match the stride of Kuzan’s long legs.

Because let’s face it: mini-you trying to keep up with Kuzan’s ridiculous height is a losing battle. His casual, lazy pace is like a light jog for you, and after about five minutes, you’re probably huffing and puffing while he hasn’t even broken a sweat. So what’s the solution? The knapsack, of course. He could carry you around in that thing as easily as he would his eternal stockpile of snacks (because we all know Kuzan’s gotta have those, but you eat them all anyway while you’re in there).

In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he alternated between carrying you in his knapsack and in his arms just to keep things balanced. One day you’re nestled in his arms like a baby penguin, and the next, you’re bouncing around in the bottom of his knapsack like a little stowaway. You might peek out of the top every now and then, catching glimpses of the world while he continues strolling along, totally unbothered.

It’s not that Kuzan’s trying to baby you, but he’s practical. There’s no way he expects you to keep up with his towering form, and let’s be real—it’s much easier for both of you if he just hauls you around like a piece of luggage. Plus, it’s not like he’d mind. You being small enough to fit in his knapsack is likely just a bonus in his book. He’ll act like it’s no big deal, but you know there’s a little part of him that finds the whole situation amusing.

Basically, he’s got you covered, whether you’re in his arms or stashed away in that bottomless knapsack. Either way, you’re getting from point A to point B without having to wear yourself out trying to keep up with those long legs of his.

He definitely annoys you a lot by constantly pinching your cheeks. Seriously, he just can’t help himself. Your face is like some kind of magnet for his fingers. The second he sees those squishy, soft cheeks of yours, it’s game over. He’s gotta pinch them at least once a day, or he might just lose his cool—or, y’know, whatever counts as “losing it” for someone as chill as Kuzan.

It’s not like he does it to be mean; in fact, it’s the complete opposite. Your face is just so ridiculously squishable that even the usually laid-back, low-effort Kuzan can’t resist. He’ll walk by, casually ruffle your hair, and then BAM!—before you know it, his fingers are pinching your cheeks. And of course, it’s never just a gentle pinch, either. No, he’s gotta give them a good squeeze, just to hear that little noise of protest you make. It’s part of his daily routine now, like drinking coffee or something.

And yes, Kuzan definitely thinks you’re the epitome of adorableness. Your squishy cheeks are just the physical manifestation of that. Sure, he acts too cool to make a fuss about it, but if anyone else tried to pinch your cheeks, you bet he’d have something to say about it. Those cheeks are his to squish, and even though he’ll play it off like it’s no big deal, it’s his way of showing that he cares.

So whether you roll your eyes, push his hand away, or try to hide your face, it doesn’t matter. Kuzan’s still going to get his daily cheek-pinching fix, and you’re just going to have to deal with it. Sorry!—but when you’re that adorable, even someone as composed as Kuzan can’t resist giving those cheeks a little squeeze.

His hair is definitely something interesting for you—curly, and cut to chin length, with the tips fanning out in a way that practically begs you to mess with it. And honestly, as a kid, you just can’t resist. It’s like his curls are calling out to you, practically daring you to poof them up, so of course, you do. Every chance you get, you’re right there, fluffing up his hair like it’s some kind of art project. It’s basically your own way of revenge, especially after all that pinching and squishing he’s done to your chubby cheeks.

And it’s not like Kuzan really stops you. Nah, he’s way too lax for that. You could spend a solid ten minutes working on poofing up his curls, making them all bouncy and frizzy, and he wouldn’t say a word. He might even take a nap while you go crazy with his hair. You’d get it all puffed up, looking like some kind of fluffy masterpiece, only for him to casually shake his head afterward and completely ruin it.

Every. Single. Time.

You’d stand there, arms crossed, absolutely deflated as he runs his hand through his hair, casually smoothing it back to its normal look. All your hard work is gone in an instant. It’s like he doesn’t even realize the effort you’ve put into making his hair a giant, fluffy cloud. “Nice try, kid,” he’d say, maybe throwing in a lazy smirk as if he’s not fully aware of your disappointment.

It’s almost like a game at this point. You mess up his hair, poof it up as big as possible, and he calmly restores it to its usual state. Rinse and repeat. Sometimes he’ll even shake his head extra hard, like he’s trying to prove a point, his curls falling right back into place as if mocking you.

But here’s the thing—he doesn’t really mind. He’ll never say it outright, but there’s something about the way he lets you mess with his hair that shows he’s cool with it. You could poof it up every day, and he’d sit there with his usual lazy expression, letting you do your thing. It’s probably more entertaining to him than anything else. Plus, it’s not like he has much to do while he’s lounging around, so why not let you have your fun?

At the end of the day, though, you know what’s coming. No matter how much effort you put into puffing up those curls, Kuzan’s going to smooth them right back down, leaving you with a mix of pride in your work and the frustration of seeing it undone in seconds. But hey, he doesn’t stop you from trying, and that’s probably his way of saying, “Go ahead, kid. Keep at it. I’ve got time.”

Kuzan and cooking are like oil and water. The man is horrible in the kitchen; no question about it. It’s like his natural talents just stop cold (pun intended) when it comes to making food. You get hungry? Well, buckle up, because he’s about to embark on a culinary disaster.

But hey, to his credit, he tries. He’s a lazy guy, sure, but he’s not so lazy that he’ll just leave you starving. The problem is that his cooking skills are NONEXISTENT. You’re lucky if you don’t end up eating something that’s either charred beyond recognition or still weirdly undercooked, despite being in the pan for way too long. It’s like he manages to both overcook and undercook food at the same time, and you’re left wondering how that’s even possible.

He’ll stand there with his usual half-bored expression, poking at the food with a spatula, looking like he’s not entirely sure what’s happening. And when it comes time to serve it up? Yeah, you’re basically eating burnt stuff at this point. There’s no way around it. The irony of the fact that the man who can literally freeze the sea can’t stop burning food is not lost on you. You’d think with all that control over ice he’d at least be able to chill out on the stove, but nope. It’s crispy all the way.

And yet, he genuinely puts in the effort when you’re hungry. He might be lazy about most things, but when it comes to making sure you’ve got something to eat, he’s willing to give it a shot—even if that shot results in something resembling charcoal. “Here, kid,” he’d say, sliding a plate of vaguely food-shaped items toward you, “I think I nailed it this time.” Spoiler: He didn’t.

But don’t worry—his cooking will eventually start getting better. You’re still eating mostly burnt stuff, sure, but it’s less “oops, I made a rock” and more “oops, I made something that’s only slightly overdone.” You can still tell it’s food, at least. And honestly, at this point, you’ve developed a sort of tolerance for the burnt bits.

You’re still not exactly dining on gourmet meals, the food’s still a little crispy, and you’re not always sure what’s supposed to be edible—but it eventually becomes more tolerable, trust. He’s a new dad in the making, and cooking isn’t really his strong suit, but he’s slowly getting there. It’s progress, and as long as he keeps improving, there’s hope that one day you’ll be eating something that’s not 70% carbonized.

For now, though, you’ll just have to settle for a lot of burnt dinners and Kuzan’s deadpan “Enjoy” as he hands you a plate. But at least you know he’s got your back, even if that means the occasional charred meal.

If anyone even thinks about messing with you, they’re in for a serious awakening—because Kuzan doesn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense. There’s no way he’s going to just sit there and let someone mess with his kid. If it’s an adult causing trouble, that chill demeanor can quickly become intimidating. He’s not about to let some random person push you around—he’ll get serious real quick if he needs to.

Now, Kuzan’s not the type to jump straight to violence, but he’s more than ready if the situation calls for it—but only if absolutely necessary. He’s calm, yes, but make no mistake, he’s prepared to throw ice hands if the person causing trouble doesn’t back off. Of course, he knows you're a kid, and he doesn’t want you to see him go full-on badass mode in a fight, no matter how much you’d probably think his ice powers are “super duper cool.” He’d much rather keep you away from that kind of violence. If things are about to get messy, his first instinct is to tell you to look away, close your eyes, and cover your ears. He’s not about to let you witness something like that.

And if the other person just won’t back down, well, that’s when Kuzan’s icy side really comes out. The temperature seems to drop, and that stoic expression of his hardens as he steps up, ready to put the person in their place. He won’t hesitate to freeze someone’s feet to the ground or send an ice wall between them and you. Yeah, he’s basically downright intimidating and dangerous when he needs to be.

Now, if it’s another child bullying you, things are a bit different. Kuzan’s not about to go full Ice Age on a kid, obviously. But here’s the thing—most kids your age would probably take one look at this towering, six-foot-plus giant of a man and rethink their life choices. The second they see him strolling over, calm as ever, with that unbothered look in his eyes, they’re already backing off. I mean, who wouldn’t? Kuzan’s height alone is enough to make anyone think twice about picking on you. You’ve basically got scary dog privilege—except it’s not a dog; it’s your super duper cool dad.

But if the bully is feeling extra brave or just a little too dumb to realize what they’re up against, Kuzan has his own way of handling it. He’ll crouch down a little to their level, still towering over them, and in that low, calm voice, he’ll firmly tell them, “Hey, cut it out. Stop bothering my kid.” Just like that. There’s no need to raise his voice or get angry—just his presence and tone are enough to get the message across. It’s that parent-like authority that makes the bully shrink back, and just like that, the situation’s handled. No need for ice or fights—just a few well-placed words from Kuzan, and the problem is solved.

So whether it’s an adult or another kid trying to mess with you, Kuzan’s got your back. He can be as cold as ice when he needs to be, or just intimidating enough to send a bully running for the hills. Either way, you’re safe with him, and anyone who tries to test that? Well, they learn pretty quickly that messing with Kuzan’s kid is a terrible idea.

Kuzan is surprisingly chill when it comes to the usual trouble kids get into—like cursing or sneaking a piece of candy from the store. He’s not one to overreact, mainly because he gets it. Kids are learning, and part of growing up is figuring out what’s right and what’s wrong. He remembers being a kid once, running around and cashing some mischief himself. So he tends to take a more relaxed approach. But don’t let that fool you—he will call you out when you mess up.

For instance, if you dropped a curse word, he might raise an eyebrow, give you a glance, and calmly say something like, “You kiss your mama with that mouth?” It’s not a scolding, more of a gentle reminder that maybe you shouldn’t be swearing like a sailor. No need for long lectures—he’ll just make a little quip and leave you to think about it.

Now, when it comes to stealing, things are a bit different. Let’s say you swiped a candy bar from the store. The first time he catches you, Kuzan will probably let it slide with a casual, “C’mon, don’t make a habit out of that.” He’s not going to drag you back to the store right away, but he’ll definitely make it clear that you shouldn’t do it again.

But if you do pull a stunt like that again, well, that’s where things get interesting. Kuzan’s the type who believes in learning through experience, so you can bet he’ll march you right back to that store, have you return whatever it is you took, and make you apologize. And no, there’s no escaping it. He’s firm but still calm about it, and honestly, having to face the consequences like that is a bigger punishment than any time-out could ever be.

The real kicker, though, is what happens if you keep testing his patience. Kuzan may be lenient, but he’s not about to let you get off scot-free forever. If you’re being particularly stubborn or if you keep pulling the same tricks, he’ll start thinking of creative ways to teach you a lesson—ways that are a little more embarrassing for you. Maybe he’ll announce loudly in the store, in front of everyone, “Hey, my kid took something they shouldn’t have. Let’s go return it and say sorry, okay?” Cue your mortification.

The embarrassment is enough to make you never want to do it again. You’ll probably sulk and shoot him an angry look afterward, thinking that you hate him for humiliating you like that. But deep down, you know he’s just trying to steer you in the right direction.

Even if you’re mad at him in the moment, Kuzan’s not too bothered. He knows it’ll blow over. He’s doing it all because he cares, and even if his laid-back nature makes it seem like he’s not paying attention, he’s got your best interest at heart.

When winter rolls around, Kuzan’s definition of “keeping warm” becomes a bit… extreme. You’d think that being an ice man, he’d have a perfect understanding of cold temperatures and how to handle them, but ironically, he’s so accustomed to the cold that he has no clue what “too cold” feels like for a regular person—especially for a kid like you. To him, being cold is just another day in the life. So naturally, when it starts snowing, his protective instincts go into overdrive, and he wraps you up like a little walking bundle of fabric.

It starts off with one coat, then another, and another, and one more, and two more, and three more, and probably four more…and before you know it, you’re waddling out the door buried under layers of jackets, scarves, gloves, and sweaters—there’s probably a beanie or two shoved on your head for good measure. You’re practically swimming in oversized clothes, struggling to move your arms because they’re weighed down by puffy jackets. Honestly, you’d be warmer than a marshmallow roasting by a campfire at this point, but Kuzan just keeps piling on the layers. He just wants to make sure you don’t freeze.

"Uh... Dad?" You mumble, muffled by the scarf he wrapped around you about five times. “I’m kind of... sweating.” You’re not cold at all—actually, you’re overheating under all these clothes, which is kind of impressive considering you’re outside in a snowstorm.

Kuzan just looks down at you, eyebrow raised. “Really? It’s freezing out here. You sure?” He’s genuinely puzzled because to him, 20 degrees Fahrenheit feels like a tropical vacation.

You nod—or at least try to, but the scarf kind of restricts your movement. “Yeah... maybe we can take one jacket off?”

Kuzan hesitates. He doesn’t want you catching a cold or getting sick, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to completely disregard your comfort either. After all, if you say you’re warm, maybe you are. Still, he’s reluctant, giving you a look that says, “Are you sure you want to do that?” He’s probably thinking of all the ways you could end up freezing the moment you take off even one layer.

“Alright,” he finally relents, tugging one of the jackets off your overly bundled body. “But keep the scarf and the hat. You never know when it’ll get colder.”

Of course, even after peeling off one layer, you’re still swaddled in a ridiculous amount of winter gear. Kuzan doesn’t do anything halfway when it comes to keeping you safe and warm, so you're still looking like a walking ball of puff. At least now you can move your arms a bit more.

If you weren’t a napper before, well, you better get used to it because now that you’re hanging around Kuzan, naps are mandatory. The man is the epitome of relaxedness, and somehow, his sleepy energy has rubbed off on you. It’s like the moment he decides to take one of his classic mid-day naps, you feel your own eyelids getting heavy. You might not even be tired, but seeing Kuzan lazily sprawled out, snoring away somehow makes you want to nap too. It’s practically contagious.

And if you’re feeling particularly snuggly? No problem. Kuzan isn’t one to complain about extra warmth, even if it’s from your tiny little self. If you want to curl up next to him, he’ll wrap one of his long arms around you and pull you close. He’ll probably even shift a little to make sure you’re comfy, tucking you in like you’re the perfect-sized teddy bear. Because you are. Except you’re not really a teddy bear.

Now let’s say that one day, instead of lying next to him, you decide to sprawl right on top of him—because why not? He’s big, he’s cozy, and he’s basically a human-sized mattress. You could literally flop right across his chest, stomach, or even lie across his back, and Kuzan? He’s perfectly fine with it. The man doesn’t even flinch. He just adjusts slightly, like, “Oh, you’re using me as your bed now? Cool, go for it,” before drifting right back to sleep without a second thought.

So congrats, you’ve officially been drafted into the nap life. Whether you wanted to or not, you’re now a professional napper, all thanks to Kuzan.

Remember that old sleep mask Kuzan used to wear back when he was still a Marine? The one he’d casually pull down over his eyes while everyone else was busy stressing out? Well, I like to think that even though those days are long behind him, he still keeps that mask tucked away somewhere in his knapsack.

And let’s just say that one day, he just hands it to you. No big speech, no grand gesture—just a lazy “Here, you can have it.” Now, the thing is massive on you. I mean, the mask is practically half the size of your face, and it keeps sliding down over your nose or up into your hair. But hey, Kuzan doesn’t care. He finds it pretty amusing how it looks on you, especially when you try to wear it seriously, like you’re mimicking him in some way.

Whether you’re sleeping or just goofing around, that sleep mask has pretty much become your thing now. Sometimes you wear it just because you can, even though it’s comically oversized. Other times, you carry it around like a prized possession, tucking it into your own little bag like it’s something important. Maybe you don’t fully understand why he gave it to you, but that doesn’t matter—it’s yours now, and you wear it with pride.

Kuzan doesn’t mind, of course. If anything, he’s probably glad it’s getting more use now that it’s yours. Every time he sees you waddling around with it over your eyes, almost bumping into things, you can catch him smiling. He never says it, but you can tell he’s kind of proud that his old Marine memento has become your new signature look.

Yeah, overall, Kuzan’s a great dad. Super chill, unbothered, and a literal human ice pack when you need it. If you're in the market for a dad who can nap at any given moment, pinch your cheeks just because, and accidentally turn your lunch into charcoal, then come get your own Kuzan today! (now only 5 berries down, 5 berries a month—frostbite risk included for free!!!!!)

[sweetladyjustice]

This is a repost, because I think my visibility settings were preventing it from ending up in the tags.

Here's a little something for @bloodweaveweek Day 1: Firsts.

Life got away from me (I blame Dragon Age) so my BW Week responses will just be updates from stuff I'd written for a Discord creativity challenge during March. This was going to be a part of a longer fic I wanted to write, but I've since changed direction.

Be warned: sappy, soft, and really self-indulgent! Takes place three years post-game.

~~~

Their life was simple. 

The sun was setting over the water, casting brilliant reds and pinks across the horizon. A carafe of good wine sat on the table between them. Astarion was sprawled on the chaise, facing the setting sun and sitting up just enough to sip his wine, reading the weekly gossip rag. He was particularly curious about the love triangle that had caused near-blows at last month’s soiree at a minor lordling’s manor. He and Gale had been invited to the soiree, but declined as Karlach and Tav had been passing through Waterdeep on their latest adventure. Now Astarion was regretting not having gone, even if it had meant missing out on an evening with his friends. He hummed and turned the page, eagerly continuing the story.

Gale sat across from him in a wicker chair, an ancient book about some kind of esoteric magic balanced on his lap. Occasionally, he asked Astarion for an opinion on spell techniques. Astarion mostly answered in grunts and shrugs, more focused on his own reading. 

Life was very boring. But Astarion loved it. 

Gale broke the companionable silence.

“Do you want to do anything special for your birthday?”

“Gale, I love you, but I do not understand a word of what you’re reading from that dusty old book. Wait.” Astarion dropped his reading as Gale’s words finally registered. “My what?”

“Your birthday! It’s in three days.” He winked at Astarion. Winked. Astarion scrunched his face into a frown as Gale continued. “And, if I may point out, it’s a significant one!”

Astarion sat up and topped off his goblet of wine. He reached for the carafe and poured himself another generous glass. He would probably need it for wherever this conversation was going. “Significant how? And how did you know? I didn’t even know my birthday. Not until this very moment, anyway.” 

“It was etched onto your headstone,” Gale answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in all the realms.

“Oh, right,” Astarion responded. Then he flashed Gale a wicked grin. “I don’t remember what my headstone said, but I remember what we did on my headstone.” 

Gale ignored him and pressed on. “Per the dates, you were 39 years old when you were turned. The ‘clock’, so to speak, restarted on aging for you after we returned the Crown.” Astarion pursed his lips at the mention of aging, but Gale didn’t notice. “This is your first birthday since your mortality was restored. Do you know what that means?”

He wracked his brain, trying to think of human birthday customs. “Ah! Yes I do. You will be taking me out to a very expensive dinner followed by a night of mind-blowing sex?” 

“Well, yes, we will certainly be doing that,” Gale said, with an almost dismissive wave of his hand. “But what I mean is, you’re turning 40!”

Astarion blinked, then laughed. “Oh, I’m older than that. I was born in 12-something, and it’s…” he paused, thinking. “It’s 1494.”

“It’s 1495.”

“Oh. It’s 1495. That means I’m actually…” he paused again. “Well, it means I’m actually much older than 40.” He shrugged. “But if you don’t want to count all those undead years, I can accept that.” He took another sip of his wine. “While I won’t say no to being spoiled, I’m curious. Why is this so important?”

“Forty is a milestone birthday!” Gale spread his hands in the air in a ta-da motion. 

A long pause hung heavy in the air as Astarion tried his damnedest not to giggle at his husband.

“For humans, maybe.” He tapped the point of one ear. “I’m an elf.” 

“Ah, but you’re married to a human.” Gale leaned forward, reaching across the table to take Astarion’s hand. “So please, indulge your very human husband and allow me to make a big deal out of this?”

“Fine. Expensive dinner, lots of sex.”

“That’s all?”

Astarion nodded. “That’s all. This whole birthday thing,” he waved his hand in front of his face with a flourish, “is entirely new to me. Let’s start simple. Wine me and dine me.”

Gale smiled, resplendent, and released Astarion’s hand. He leaned back into his chair and opened his book. “Now, I would like your opinion on an original illusion spell technique that I am developing for my more advanced students.”

“Ask away, darling.”

~~~

Astarion’s birthday dawned bright and clear, like most days in Waterdeep did. He roused from a light doze and slipped from Gale’s arms, creeping his way to the washroom so as not to wake his husband. 

Astarion studied himself in the mirror. Forty. He looked just as he had yesterday at 39. Same high cheekbones, same light splash of freckles across the same prominent nose, same beauty mark under his left eye. He still had a shallow dimple in his chin and a small scar next to his mouth. And the same ocean-blue eyes stared back from the glass. An unbidden memory flooded into his mind.

“I would rather be a spawn for eternity than be indebted to you.”

“You owe me nothing, Astarion.”

“Then why did you bring me here? Fix him like you promised!”

“I already have. The orb is gone. Gale was as obstinate as you are, and he insisted I give you a boon for your part in reforging the Crown. On that, he and I agree.”

“Why? Since when have you been charitable?”

“It is not charity. It is my obligation. I witnessed the great pain you endured retrieving the netherstones from the Chionthar. I would not have the Crown were it not for your help.”

“I didn’t do that for you. I did it for Gale.”

“Then consider this my obligation to him, if you must.”

There was a flash of purple-silver light, blinding him momentarily. Just as suddenly as he had been snatched away, he was back in the tower’s library, heart pounding and lungs filling with gasping breaths, entire body tingling. A pair of arms circled his waist, holding him steady. Gale’s face swam into view, eyes wide, staring at Astarion in awe. 

Astarion sighed. Whether it was a wistful sigh or frustrated sigh, he wasn’t sure. He still didn’t quite believe he did anything to deserve the gift of mortality, but over the last several months, he’d stopped questioning Mystra’s motivations. Or, perhaps, he’d grown to trust Gale even more deeply than he already had. It had been Gale that had advocated to Mystra on his behalf. There must have been some lingering fondness there on her part for her to agree to his demands. As he pondered, Astarion craned his neck and brushed his fingers over the fading scars, the last remaining hint of what he used to be. 

He pushed his doubts away and gazed back at himself in the mirror, this time indulging in a bit of vanity. He grinned, reveling in the way the corners of his eyes creased. And no fangs, of course. He finished washing up, tousled his hair, and crept downstairs to the kitchen. 

As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he felt a woosh of air ruffle his hair and heard the flutter of feathers. 

“Happy birthday, Mister Dekarios!”

Astarion ducked, nearly bopped in the head by the tressym zooming excitedly around the kitchen. 

“Ah, thank you, Tara. And good morning to you.”

Tara made a few more tight circles in the air before settling on the kitchen table. Astarion gave her a few scratches behind the ears on his way to the coffee pot. She had warmed up to him surprisingly quickly when he and Gale arrived in Waterdeep. He had been certain that his presence would be tolerated at best, outright rejected at worst. However, within days, Tara could be found perched on his shoulders or settled in his lap in front of the fire. Even more surprisingly, Morena Dekarios had welcomed him with open arms. She was a warm and caring person, just like her son. Astarion wondered if she made a big deal out of Gale’s birthdays when he was young.

Astarion turned back to the tressym as the coffee brewed. “Tara, do all humans get so excited about birthdays?” 

“Oh, yes, humans very much enjoy celebrating the people they love. Why, I recall Morena fretting over what to do for Gale’s 30th birthday. He was so wrapped up with that goddess at the time, and completely disregarded Morena’s invitation!” She stomped her little paw on the table. “Oh, what an awful day that was. Poor Morena was so heartbroken.”

“Right, that.” He didn’t want to think anymore about Mystra today. Astarion scratched absent-mindedly at his chest. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe that his kind, loving husband was once a callous man obsessed with his proximity to power. He made a mental note to bring up the 30th birthday incident (as gently as he was capable of being) with Morena next time they had lunch.

A rather depressing thought popped into Astarion’s head. “Tara, Gale wants to celebrate my birthday tonight. Do you think he might be doing this out of guilt for the 30th birthday thing?” 

“Oh no! I assure you, this has nothing to do with guilt. He apologized to Morena years ago. He wants to celebrate you, his love. Human lives are short, dear. Every year is special to them.”

“Hmm, yes, I think about that far too often.” He sighed and picked up the two mugs of coffee and made for the stairs. “Thank you, Tara. I’ll indulge him with this birthday business.” 

Tara tsked when she saw the mugs in his hands. “Gale should be bringing you coffee! It’s your birthday! You’re supposed to be relaxing! He should be spoiling you! Oh that lazy boy, I will be giving him an earful later!”

~~~

As promised, Gale took Astarion out to an expensive dinner with even more expensive wine. The walk home felt excruciatingly long, as Gale had also promised mind-blowing sex. A promise on which, of course, he delivered. And delivered. And delivered again.

Hours later, they were lounging in their bed, sweaty and sated. Astarion’s heart was thudding in his chest, still a novel sensation nearly a year after it had beat back to life. Gale’s head was pillowed on his chest. Astarion drew lazy circles with his fingers along his husband’s shoulder. 

But despite his contentment, he couldn’t stop thinking of his conversation with Tara that morning. I’ll have to do something nice for Gale’s next birthday, he reasoned. 

Then it dawned on him. He was missing a major piece of information about his husband. 

“Shit.”

“Mmm?” Gale had been drifting off. He rubbed his face sleepily on Astarion’s chest. “Everything alright, Astarion?”

“I have a question. And before I ask you, my darling, my love, I want you to know that I love and cherish you very much. Every moment with you makes up for centuries of torture and torment. I cannot imagine my life without you.” 

Before he could continue, Gale stiffened and lifted his head off of Astarion’s chest, looking him in the eye. He looked… suspicious. 

Astarion cleared his throat. “Well, I was thinking. If humans like birthdays so much, perhaps we should make it a habit of celebrating them, and I thought I should do something for your next birthday. Something nice. And nice still isn’t really my thing, so I would need help from your mother and Tara, and then I realized…”

“You don’t know when my birthday is, do you?” 

Astarion blushed red to the tips of his ears and shook his head. 

“Astarion!” Gale pushed himself onto his elbows to glare at his husband. “Do you even know how old I am?”

Astarion paused. “Forty two?”

“Forty two?” Gale’s voice came out much higher than usual.

“Not 42?”

“I’m only 38!” 

Astarion gave Gale a sheepish grin. “Well, you don’t look a day over 35, my dear.”

Gale frowned and huffed, but leaned forward and gave Astarion a soft kiss on the lips. He settled back down, and Astarion knew he was listening to his heartbeat. He pulled the blankets up over them both and pressed a kiss to Gale’s gray-streaked hair. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” Gale whispered. His breathing grew slow and heavy. Astarion grinned and as he slipped into a trance, he thought to himself, May it be the first of many. 

[house-of-slayterr]

beloved 🥺

im normally not the one to come knocking, asking for comfort, but i truly had the worst day at work today (plus, it was a late shift). may i ask for a lil comfort with hannibal or halsin? 🥺🌻

if you wanna hug me, you gotta scrape me off the floor first /j slkfjskdfj

thank you so much for just reading this. absolutely no pressure!!

i love you and i hope your day was/will be good!!

Noooo wifey, who hurt you?! I’ll eat them! I’m sorry you had a bad day at work. Sending every hug in the world, I’ll get a nice new shovel to scrape you off the floor.

Of course you can have some Halsin and Hannibal comfort 🥰

Halsin:

You come back to camp after a long stressful day hard at work. Nothing seemed to go right, and the more the day went on you just wanted to curl up into a ball and hide yourself away. The hours ticked on until the sun started to set and it was finally time to rest for the evening. Hang up your aching bones on the shelf and just become a sleepy pile of mush.

At least, that was your plan, until something, or more aptly, someone caught your attention.

“Pretty flower come look” his voice calls as he spots you.

It’s something he’s taken to calling you, your beauty reminding him of the flowers from back home. And the minute he saw that smile on your face, and the blush in your checks the first time he called you it, he knew it would stick. You were his pretty flower, and he was your handsome bear. Something so simply it seemed everyone in the world understood besides the two of you.

You saunter over to him, and he’s yet to notice your sour demeanour.

“My pretty flower, look, I’ve found the most beautiful little duckling. He’s got spots”

Halsin holds out his hand to let you see the small creature, looking even smaller in his arms.

“Very cute” you reply half hearted.

He frowns, setting the duckling on his shoulder and cups your face in his hands.

“My precious petal, what’s wrong?”

“Hard day” you shrug.

Halsins frown deepens and he bends down to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry things are hard sometimes, but you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. If anyone can handle a bad day with grace, it’s you. But would you like to know something else?”

“What’s that?” You look up at him.

“Even the strongest warriors are better together than alone. Consider my evening yours. Whatever makes you happy we shall do.”

“Halsin you don’t have to-“

“Nonsense my dear. You deserve the world on a platter, anything less I simply won’t allow. Let me spoil you rotten, with praise, and affection and a sense of adventure. Allow me to make you feel much better.”

“That’s very kind of you Hal”

You warp your arms around his torso and give him a tight squish. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as he hugs you back, before scooping you into his arms.

“Tonight I’ll treat you like a princess, and if you’ll allow me, I’d make you my queen forever.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips when he see no protest in your eyes or body language. And he pulls away smiling.

“You are my heart, pretty flower, let me fill yours with love. No more thinking tonight. You just relax while I take care of you.”

Hannibal:

Hannibal heard the sound of the door open before you even had your coat off. He takes off his reading glasses and sets them on his desk, getting up to come greet you.

“Evening my love” he says when he sees you, but his face instantly drops reading your body language. “What happened?”

“Just work stuff, it’s stupid” you try to brush off.

“Now dove” he gently grabs your chin making you look at him, “you know better than to lie to me. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours darling.”

You give a heavy sigh, it almost impossible to say no to the charming man before you. He takes your hand bringing you to come sit on the couch, his hand comfortingly stoke your thigh as he listens to you rant about your day.

You can see his jaw tense occasionally in distaste about the travesties of your day.

“I think you’re too good for that place” he admits with no shame or guilt.

Why would he, he thinks you’re one of the best people he’s ever met. Never even once has he thought about tasting you in a way other than a gentle kiss, or more passionate endeavours. But you were his sacred lamb, the one who made him better, made him want to be better. If anyone made you sad they were sure to be added to the menu. Not that he’d ever force you to eat it, but he’ll surely enjoy his meal.

“That’s sounds quite unfortunate little lamb. I’m terrible sorry you’ve suffered so today. Let me make it up to you. Dinner and a nice glass of wine, then after a massage and I’ll draw you a warm bath. How does that sound?”

“Amazing” you admit, looking at him softly. “You’re absolutely amazing”

You give him a quick peck on the cheek, earning you a rare laugh from the stoic dr.

“It is you who is amazing my love. You bring joy and meaning to so many lives around you. And if they don’t notice your hard work, I certainly do. The world will see your value as I do someday my darling. But until then I will offer you the praise they so thoughtlessly lack”

He kisses you back gently, a proper kiss this time. One that can show you his feelings. One that leaves you feeling worshiped.

“Let me pamper you my little lamb. Maybe perhaps I’ll even watch one of those shows you enjoy, if you behave for me and don’t lift a finger to help with dinner or the washing up. Deal?”

“Deal.”

He smiles at you, whisking you away to be pampered for the night. Figuring his work can wait until later. He cooks you a magnificent feast of all your favourites. Even if he wouldn’t typically approve of them in his diet. He whispers sweet nothings and small praise to you as he gives the massage, making sure you understand just how important and loved you are.

Him joining you in the bath is up to you, he wouldn’t mind either way, just pleased that you needed him for comfort and happy to take care of your burdens. You end up falling asleep one his chest with your comfort show on as he plays with your hair. Hoping your dreams will drive away any stress left in your body so you’re up to spirits in the morning.

An: ahhh sorry if this is bad beloved, I was making dinner and writing at the same time and just wanted to get it to you quick, so it’s not proof read at all 😅 but I hope you like it, I really tried. Still getting back into writing so I’m not as confident about it right now.

[the-s1lly-corner]

tadc cast x sensitive child reader headcanons? (Platonic ofc. No pressure at all for this request)

TADC cast x sensitive!reader ! (platonic)

taking a short break from todays treat making to work on requests! so far ive made meringue cookies, lemon curd, and chocolate pretzels! woo! it doesnt sound like much but these are real huge batches </3 rolls around this might be a little short, though, since im dry on ideas and i still got stuff to do TToTT

CAINE:

spoils you, a lot, as well as kind of babying you. will it do you any good in the future? probably not, but for now it works since hes putting you before everything else. makes sure IHAs arent too hectic, though... it took him a while to find that sweet spot between too crazy and too boring, caine isnt really good at mellowing himself out.. has probably spooked you at least once on accident since he has this large booming voice and hes kind of out there.... he didnt mean to startle you, please dont cry! he makes funny faces to try to make you stop crying

POMNI:

very bad at comforting someone when theyre crying and i think this would still be an issue with you even if youre her kid/adoptive kid.. younger sibling... something.. tries the basic stuff you do to calm a crying kid down; funny faces, candy, toys, ect ect. over time she does get better at identifying what you need in scenarios where things are upsetting you. speaks for you a lot of the time when there can be a possible conflict, kind of shields you from things that could hurt you out of fear that something is going to hit too hard. long run its not ideal, but similar to caine, it works in the moment, you know?

RAGATHA:

very sweet and patient with you, hardly ever raises her voice at people and she will never raise her voice around you. gently urges you to try to speak for yourself and stand up for yourself when someone is being a little mean (though, to be fair, i cant see any of the current cast being intentionally mean.. we'll get to jax in a minute hush). very encouraging, too. kind of a mix between letting you be sensitive, but also urging you to try to get a little tougher, you know? never makes you do things youre not comfortable with doing, though. lets you hang out in her room if youre getting too overwhelmed with something, lets you play with and mess with some of her sewing stuff (supervised! needles are sharp!)

JAX:

teases you but is gentler with you, though with how sensitive you are sometimes even softening himself isnt enough. while the others try to shield and protect you from the world around you, hes likely going to try to push you to be more... bold, tough, you know. not sensitive. i feel that he might be too pushy with you and may thrust you into the deep end before youre ready for it, so either youre going to need to speak up, or someone else will... generally not ideal since hes more of a big brother figure that kind of messes with his younger siblings rather than a parent.... shrugs.. does stand up for you the second someone else makes you cry, regardless of if they do it intentionally or not

KINGER:

the dad. the father, the papa. the grandfather, even. maybe its because i hc that he already has kids out in the real world and he instinctively knows what to do with you... but i think he would be really good with you developing a thicker skin. does not shame you for who you are, though. actually i feel like he would also remind you that being sensitive isnt a big deal and it doesnt exactly make you weak compared to others. it just means you have big emotions, all the better to connect with people, you know? good dad. probably plays catch with you... those talks kids and dads have when theyre fishing that carries a life lesson... or maybe admin was introduced to really specific scenarios growing up... shrugs

ZOOBLE:

cross between jax and pomni i think. zooble is bad at comforting people, but i do think they would push for you to grow a spine and snap back at someone when theyre messing with you. though unlike jax they dont immediately throw you into it, rather i think they would have one on one time with you where you guys just talk about the stuff... still stands up for you, though they tend to give you a minute to speak for yourself during situations to say youre not okay with whats being done to you. probably teaches you little comebacks and insults to say to people when theyre being assholes

GANGLE:

honestly? she can relate. i can see this going two ways... perhaps being both at the same time...? shrugs.. she can relate to you because shes also sensitive, and it leads to you guys having this sweet sibling connection where you guys dont feel so bad for crying so easily. or it inspires gangle to try to be tougher, for your sake, so you have someone to lean on during tougher days. i think both are nice, in my opinion. similar to ragatha she lets you hang out in her room, drawing.. you both use art to express yourselves when wording things get too hard

[bomber-grl]

Valentines Day with Hiro!! °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

~ Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!Reader (no pronouns used)

~ Credit 4 dividers: 1st one:@kiyaedits second one: @cafekitsune

Before being in a relationship, Hiro had never given Valentines Day much thought

Usually aunt Cass would buy him and Tadashi some chocolates but that was in previous years

So, because of that blud does NOT even think about you

In his defense spending Valentines Day alone was his usual so 💀

Anyway

He only remembers the day or two before when he’s hanging out with his group of friends at SFIT

The conversation is that of usual but then the conversation takes a dive in another direction

They start talking about Valentine’s Day in which just makes them turn to Hiro and starts teasing him

In which he just leaves

He’s a bit embarrassed if anything and 💯 percent feeling awkward but he eventually decides to plan something for it because he actually likes you

Which isn’t surprising (only semi since he’s…him)

So he texts you to get ready tomorrow because you’re obviously gonna hang out

The way he texts it is sooo ominous..?

Like he’d text something like “get ready”

And you’d be like “for what…?”

And he’d just reply with “I’m coming for you”

Obviously he eventually just tells you that he’d want to meet up after classes at SFIT but at that moment you’re just there like is this a threat???

Anyway the day of Valentines Day comes and you’re finally leaving your last lecture

Well once you step out of the entrance of the campus you spot someone

Obviously that someone being Hiro and he has some “cringe” valentines things in his hand

How he got the money? Idk just make up your own headcanons-

He does commissions, for what ? Idk

He has the whole set

Flowers, chocolate, etc

If you don’t like either he got something else you like because of course he did)

Despite Hiros usual “tsundere” demeanor when around you- currently his face was ablaze and he refused to meet your gaze

He almost shoved the stuff into your hands but he wasn’t going to be rude just because of how easy he flusters 💀

Anyway, much to his surprise you’ve got something for him too

There was no way

literally no WAY that you’d forget, even if his stupid ahh almost did

And so you handed him a part of your gift to him

They were flowers

which honestly surprised him

He has never and I mean NEVER cared for flowers

But he’ll always cherish the Lego flowers you spent a good amount on just to give them to him

In all honesty hiro never cared for Valentine’s Day before

But rn he really saw its appeal

And ofc this is the one time where hiro who usually isn’t too keen on physical touch and if anything is more like a cat- decides to hug you

Anyway, what he planned really depends on you

I’d see him really enjoying just going out places that you both like and just spending time together.

So imagine a picnic, movie night, getting takeout

Mostly what his jam would be

Now let’s say you’re particularly keen on spoiling him

Well, he’s deceased

Really

He is, he may try to seem nonchalant or whatever by saying stupid brain rot words

But your doting and gifts (although the material value rlly doesn’t matter to him) is rlly getting to him

He’d literally scoff and shrug you off after you two share the hug to make it seem like he’s not affected

It’s rlly not helping since his face alone is a dead giveaway

Also if you end up at Hiros house then you’ll likely run into Cass, which, in all her loving nature- bought some chocolate for you this year too

———-

Hope you liked! ^^

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ok, so i just read your recent chapter of RA and I LOVEE IT!!!!! after reading it, i think i have a theory on who might the stalker be which is Seraph's media coordinator. i know you will neither confirm or deny but i just wanna share it to you and everyone!

New clothes, new watches, and jewelry. His job here was to update your portfolio as soon as possible, which meant he worked far closer to the photographers than you do. This made me think that his wearing something new every time meant that he wanted to be noticed by Seraph. We know the stalker wants her attention badly and I think he does the change of clothes just to hope Seraph will compliment him but obviously, it's not working out for him so he resorts to violence and stalking. Though, I think he still does it because if she ever notices, he will stop the stalking. (plus new stuff means he's rich and the stalker told her he would spoil her with anything) Also, the fact that his job makes him know a lot more about Seraph than other people do. He might feel some connection towards her which causes him to believe he will have a chance to be with her.

But Iakov’s eyes aren’t on you—they’re on Nikto. He could be scared of Nikto or doesn't like his vibes in general but I think it's more than that. Iakov dislikes Nikto because he's constantly with Seraph but he doesn't get to be with her. So, I think this makes Iakov jealous and furious about Nikto's job, leading to the stare-down between the two.

The man chuckles, shrugging. “I’m always looking out for you.” I think this is pretty self-explanatory. It has double meanings. His job is to update her portfolio but it can also mean I am always watching you.

“No,” he grumbles, already moving away. “No, I need to speak with that photographer about the equipment.” Maybe this could mean he's not working alone? Or he is working as a photographer too. This could explain a lot of how he got photos of her. (idk i think this may be a stupid point)

anyways, this is a lot of stuff so i hope you can understand most of what i said? i can't wait for the future chapters you will bring out for RA <3!

AHH - I love breakdowns. This is so lovely, and you've definitely made some compelling points here for people to think about!! <3<3

[briefhottubcoffee]

Hello! This is the very first story I have ever put out into the world! I am very nervous and have ~social anxiety~ so please be kind!

This story came to me looking at all the stuff my friend with kids has on her fridge and I thought it would be perfect for the Forgers. My husband helped me brainstorm ideas so it may be multi-chapter. I’m waiting to make an AO3 account. Again I’ve never done this before lol. Apologies if formatting is weird, I only use tumblr on mobile.

Refrigerator Magnets

Loid is grocery shopping with his daughter one Thursday evening, the sky cloudy and gray. He’s so tired. He was assigned two extra side missions this week, dull and mind numbing, but then a patient at the hospital actually did kick him in the stomach! It wasn't just an excuse! Leaving a bruise and a slight wince to appear on his face occasionally when he inhaled. But they needed groceries for this weekend and Anya was still bustling with energy when she came home from school, Yor working late. So out he went, robotically putting ingredients in the cart and leaning his body on it far more than he usually did. Anya was skipping beside the cart, humming a tune, the exact opposite of her father. He could never get on her level.

And then she spotted them, hanging from an endcap as Loid browsed the juices, a package of refrigerator magnets, different colorful animals.

“Papa!” Look! This looks just like Agent Penguinman! And this one is like the lion I saw at the zoo!”

He reaches for the pack, handing them to her for a closer look. She coos at them before putting a cute, purposeful look on her face, flipping the package and standing on her toes for him to see.

“Neat,” he says mildly, gesturing for her to throw them in the cart, and letting her help him steer. He grabs his ingredients and her favorite candy bar before heading to the front. I am a normal, tired father, he thinks, apologetically smiling at the cashier as Anya, pushing the cart she can’t even see over, lightly crashes into the corner of the register.

******

Another Thursday evening, this one a little brighter with Yor’s pretty smile directed at him and the refrigerator magnets bringing some color to their kitchen. She’s helping him start dinner, when the front door bangs open and Bond shoots up from his nap. “Anya has returned!” their daughter shouts, grabbing for her dog.

“Welcome home, Anya. How was your day?” Yor asks, taking her hat from her head.

“Oh! Guess what?” Anya says. She unzips her backpack and rummages through before pulling out a rose pink envelope. “Anya was invited to a birthday party!” She lifts the invitation high above her head, before Loid grabs it.

“Oh? I’m glad you're making more friends.” An excellent source of information for Operation Strix. The parents of this child might be important in Ostania. It might be crucial for her to attend.

“Well, Hannah isn’t really Anya’s friend. She took the last cookie in the cafeteria,” Anya pouts.

“Well… she invited you to her party.”

“She invited the whole class,” Anya shrugs. “But can we go Papa? Can we? I’ll be nice to Hannah! She said there would be ponies! Ponies that we could ride?! And a big slide and an orch-ee-stra, and a magician!”

“My goodness! What an elaborate birthday party!” Yor says, opening the card and marveling at the beautiful, ornate invitation inside, fit more for a formal wedding than a seven-year-olds birthday party. Loid blinks. He supposes this is the norm for rich, pompous people, to spoil their children with extravagant birthday parties and ponies. Anya’s attempts to befriend her more wealthy classmates have not gone particularly well, Damian Desmond in particular, which caused Loid intense stomach pains, but this party could indeed be a big opportunity for the mission. He could meet some upper-class parents, perhaps gather intel, and then, of course, since this girl invited the whole class, Damian Desmond himself might attend. Could his parents even show? His reclusive target? Surely not, but this is still a good chance to get another foot in the door with his young son, a chance for Anya to play nice outside of school, a positive step forward!

“Alright, we can go,” he says. “But you’ll need to get her a present.”

“Ooohh lets go to the Big Toy Store! I can get Hannah a Mega Elephant Circus!” Anya squeals, spreading her arms wide. Loid turns to watch Yor with her pretty smile tack the pricey, shimmery invitation on the fridge with the elephant magnet. This birthday party is going to be a big expense for Operation Strix.

****

The invitation stays on the fridge for weeks, a reminder of the upcoming party and ooting for the Forgers. Before the party, the family heads to the toy store, the huge, expensive toy store, with giant stuffed animals and a freaking merry-go-round in the center.

Anya and Yor spend time checking out all the toys, Anya pointing out all the ones she wants. Loid trails behind, tired again. They settle on getting Hannah a doll tea set, reasonably priced, but still, hopefully, expensive enough to satisfy a rich family. Loid then sits on a bench to rest, watching Anya bounce up and down beside Yor, both waiting to ride the merry-go-round. Yor is such a huge help at times like these. He’s grumpy and worn down. Side missions pile up, patients pile up, and he feels a gnawing frustration at his lack of progress with Operation Strix. Yor’s pretty smile and cheery disposition make up for his failures with their daughter. She can get on Anya’s level. She can match Anya’s excitement about riding on a merry-go-round. She can marvel at a giant stuffed kangaroo with her and come up with a silly name for both the mama and the baby in her pouch. She can crouch down and help Anya snap blocks together as they build a castle complete with a watch tower for Bondman. Present and engaged and sweet all the time.

Last night, Anya was fussy when it was time to go to bed, too wound up to be sleepy. She wailed at Loid as he helped her with her pajamas and tried to tug the covers over her, rolling around in bed instead and kicking her feet up on the wall. Loid felt impatient and drained as he sighed at her. This is impossible. Bedtime seemed like a straightforward task but was so draining in reality. He felt like he would never get this parenting cover right. Yor came in after hearing their bickering, and laughed softly, kneeling down next to Loid.

“Let’s try to hush a bit,” she calmly said to their daughter, smoothing her hair down. Loid watched as Yor pulled out a book and began reading to Anya, and what an idyllic picture they made. Yor’s voice came out in such a tranquil way, her eyes twinkling in the dark room. He couldn’t look away. She kept stroking Anya’s hair, her voice like a melody, her presence like a soothing light. Like a miracle, Anya yawned and her eyes became heavy, and Yor shot Loid a smug look and he felt like he was flying. She was magic. She could do the impossible.

In the present, Loid watches with a frown as the pair climb aboard, Anya tugging on her mothers arm and pointing to the two horses she wants to ride.

“Will the ponies at the party be green and pink like these?” he hears his daughter shout.

“I doubt it,” Yor replies with a giggle, helping the girl on to her horse. The music starts and the ride begins to spin, daughter and mother sending exuberant waves to Loid as they squeal with excitement. Loid feels pensive and melancholy. Cranky. I am no good at this, he thinks. Appearances are everything for a spy, and he supposes he is a good father at surface level, to the bystanders who see him wave to his wife and daughter each and every time they make their way around. But he feels lacking. Anya is a sweet girl and Yor is a lovable mother, he feels another painful kick of guilt at the thought of using them, deceiving them. They deserve the real thing, a matching father to complete their pretty picture, something perfect enough to tack on the fridge and admire everyday. Not someone playing pretend.

It’s what needs to be done, he thinks with finality. He centers his thoughts, reminds himself of the mission, of war, of the invitation on the refrigerator with its elephant magnet, of what this seven-year-old’s birthday party means for world peace. Pull yourself together. He has rich parents to schmooze with, he must appear charming and affable, he must ask all the right questions, not too probing, not too demanding. He has to appear engaged and interested. He has to fit in with the other good fathers. They will be charming and affable, they will laugh with joy at their kids, walk next to them with their hands on their backs as they ride ponies, they will wipe their faces when they're covered in icing. He has to remind his daughter to play nice with Damain Desmond, to be on her best behavior, to not eat too much cake.

He has to crush this child's birthday party. World peace depends on it.

****

The party is too much. It’s so extravagant and pink. There are balloons and peonies everywhere, the birthday girl sits on a gold chair in a pink tutu with a crown on her head. Loid sighs. Next to him, Yor frets with the pink gift bag she’s holding, her lips in a thin line and a crinkle between her brows.

Loid leans towards her. “Rich people,” he scoffs with an eye roll and Yor looks up at him and giggles, swats his arm.

“Hi Becky!” Anya shouts as she pelts across the perfect, giant lawn.

“Anya, don’t crash into anyone,” Loid warns looking around. He immediately hones in on his main target for the day, a young boy with dark hair and a pompous arrogance about him, surrounded by two other boys and glaring at Anya as she twirls around, showing Becky her dress. Loid thinks of a way to move his mission forward, a way for Damian to bring up the Forgers to his father, who is definitely not here, so that he is interested. Perhaps there is a servant or even the boy's mother present? Someone closer to the man in question. Loid and Yor are then approached by the mother of the girl of the hour. Hannah’s family are rich socialites, the father a bank executive.

It’s time to schmooze.

The shmoozing goes well, the birthday party is in full swing. There’s a damn violin quartet in the corner, and waiters dressed as princes and princesses serving hors d'oeuvres to the parents. Loid has gotten a little useful information to bring back to Wise; the fathers had retreated to the mansion shortly after the party began. Loid had joined them for a bit, engaging in a game of poker and listening to the men complain about their wives and their jobs, gathering intel in a room full of cigar smoke. But he grew tired of it.

I have to make sure she and Damian are getting on well, he justifies to himself as he ventures back out to the lawn. He is the only father out there. He sees Yor standing awkwardly with the other mothers and slides next to her, resting a hand lightly at her waist.

“What are you doing back here, Dr. Forger?” Hannah’s mother asks, surprised.

“Oh I wanted to check on Anya. And I missed my wife,” he replies with a charming smile and Yor stiffens and flushes as the other women aww at them.

Anya and Damian are not interacting, at least not in any friendly way. Loid watches as Damian shoves past Anya and Becky in line for the pony ride.

“Rude!” Shouts Becky as Anya sticks her tongue out at him. Well… their relationship hasn’t improved much.

Loid blinks. There are at least ten ponies and only one handler, he seems a little overwhelmed at the task at hand, monitoring young children on little ponies trotting in a circle.

“Is no one going to help?” Loid asks Hannah’s mother, gesturing towards the pony ride.

“Well the boys are busy inside,” she replies with a sniff. “He’s got it covered.” And that’s the end of that.

This isn’t going to go well, Loid thinks as he rushes over, just as Damian Desmond tries to climb on to a pony alone. His foot gets stuck in the saddle, and he falls over. Tears well in his eyes as the other kids laugh at him. All except Anya who walks over to him.

“Here you go!” Anya extends her hand to Damian. He frowns at her, a bright red blush on his cheeks. “I don’t need your help, dummy!’ He shouts in reply. Despite the kids reaction, Loid is proud of his daughter for being caring and kind, compassionate and warm. Yor is raising her well.

“I’ll help you up,” Loid says, picking up the boy and placing him on the horse. Damian looks at him suspiciously. “You’re shorties- I mean- you’re Anya’s pops right?” he asks.

“Yup! Horses can be a bit intimidating at first, but you’re up here now! Just hold on tight to the reins and you’ll do great,” He says. His mind is running a million miles an hour. Don’t overdo it, this may get back to Desmond, be kind and fatherly, I am a good dad, I am a normal dad.

Damian is still blushing but mutters his thanks. Loid realizes this kid is alone. No guardian for him, he must have attended with friends. The ponies begin their circle. Loid stays nearby and straightens up the kids as needed, teaches them how to tuck their shoes into the saddle, how to hold the reins correctly. The handler shoots him a grateful look. The mothers are looking at him curiously. Maybe he messed up. Maybe he should be inside with the other men. Maybe it’s not normal, but it didn’t seem right to him to be like the other fathers. The men smoke inside while the women gossip outside, helpers and nannies monitoring the kids. It was so detached. He had felt something unsettling in his gut, something he couldn’t ignore. Maybe he actually did want to check on his daughter, maybe he actually did miss his wife. She’s looking at him now, her pretty smile back. He feels like he’s flying again. Anya is laughing with joy on her pony, the sound like bells, waving at her father.

No good, this is no good. This isn’t going to go well. He tries to center himself, remind himself why he’s actually here. But he can’t. He’s going around in circles. He’s flying high.

****

They return home from the party, everyone exhausted. Anya is quick to settle for the night, he considers nights like these where she is actually tired a miracle indeed.

“Night, Papa,” Anya mutters, closing her eyes and snuggling with her chimera. Loid hums and smiles, affection rising in his stomach. Anya is a good kid. Disruptive and loud, but sweet and happy, reminding him of the good in the world.

Once she is tucked into bed, he sighs and settles on to the couch, petting his dog on the head. Yor’s quiet tonight. She shuffles around the kitchen making tea, he sees her take down the party invitation from the refrigerator and tuck it into a box they keep on a shelf. She hands him his tea and he shoots her a grateful smile, but she’s looking away, her lips in a tight line and her frown back between her brows.

“What’s up?” He asks, letting the steam from the tea settle on his face. She looks at him and blushes, his heart stutters in his chest.

She sits with her tea and shakes her head. They stay silent. He listens to his dog snoring softly and the clock tick, as he and his wife watch each other with their tea. It’s a good night. It was a good day. He spent time with his family, for the mission, he reminds himself. He feels calm and warm, his mind slow, helpless, thinking of the picture they make in this living room, an idyllic picture.

“You’re a good father,” she says finally. “One of the best, I think.”

She blushes pink and her eyes twinkle and her pretty smile is back and Oh. I am flying again.

[littlegodzilla]

Request if you want to:

Single dad Norman falls for his son's friend's single mom.

I appreciate your writing

Hi anon!!

Thanks for your request! I really enjoyed wtiting it, of course we can say it's an AU from real Norman, I'm not going to talk about Helena or something like this, I took some liberties, hope you don't mind!

Enjoy!!

******************

Norman's Secret.

SingleDad!Norman Reedus x SingleMom!Reader.

One shot. Anon request.

Warnings: none.

Words: 5000

***************

The alarm clock goes off that damnably early morning. A grunt of frustration echoes through the room as he fumbles to turn off the infernal sound that has awakened him that morning. He huffs lying face up in bed as he rubs his eyes trying to wake up fully. He has never been a morning person, at least not out of obligation, but the week has started again, and he has to be responsible. After a few more minutes of standing still, he gets out of bed looking for some old sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He walks down the hallway of the apartment and opens the door to another of the rooms, doesn't turn on the light, leans over the small body resting under the sheets and touches his blond mane.

"Good morning buddy, it's time to get up." He whispers softly to him receiving a whimper in protest. He smiles and when he feels he's already awake, he lifts the bedroom blinds to let the light start coming in.

"Daddy, it's too early." Protests the little boy again, pulling the covers over his head.

"I know, but we have to go to school, so there's no excuse."

"I don't feel well..." he mumbles under the sheets and he smiles from his position.

"Mingus, don't make me use force..." He threatens him, but when the boy pulls the sheets down, he sees his father grinning mischievously and knows he's lost.

"Daddy, no!" But his father throws himself on the bed, trapping his little body and starts tickling him getting Mingus to squirm laughing. "Okay, okay!"

Norman laughs, kisses him on the head and gets up to fix breakfast warning him that if he's not there in ten minutes, he'll be back with more. Mingus laughs but gets out of bed to get ready and go to breakfast with his father. It has always been just the two of them, Norman and Mingus, Norman has always loved children and has cared for and protected his son the best he has known and knows how, Mingus is now only nine years old and Norman knows that to a lesser or greater extent, his son will always turn to him if he needs him, or so he hopes. Norman had his difficulties with his father when he was young and things didn't get better until the man was in a serious situation and then he was gone, Norman has always regretted not knowing how to fix things sooner and he doesn't want something similar to happen to his son. He is not a spoiled child, or at least Norman tries not to spoil him, but gives him the freedoms and independence he thinks he needs, of course the boy is still learning and his father has to stop him on more than one occasion. But he still thinks he's not doing badly at all.

When the blond boy appears through the kitchen door, he is already dressed for school and is carrying his backpack in his hand, leaving it on one of the free chairs. Norman has prepared breakfast; a bowl of cereal plus some cut up fruit and juice. He sits in front of his son and looks at the notifications on his phone, most are work stuff that he puts aside to check later, others are things from the parent group at school, sometimes he regrets a bit about giving them his number because sometimes they bombard him with unnecessary information, others it is a great help because the parents discuss activities or future important school dates that the child may have forgotten to mention.

"There's a field trip next week." He mentions reading one of the messages and Mingus hums. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Next week you have to travel for your job, remember? I was staying at Uncle Andy's on those days." He tells him with a shrug, chewing his cereal.

Norman stands quietly watching his son, Mingus doesn't seem upset, just indifferent, it's not the first time he's missed an activity because his father can't accompany him, at first his protests led to an argument, but as he got older, Mingus came to understand that sometimes things didn't go the way you wanted and he just accepted that fact, others, like the child he is, he kept protesting and insisting sometimes he got what he wanted and sometimes he didn't.

"It's a multi-day excursion." Norman keeps saying and looks sideways at him, Mingus nods.

"That's why I didn't say anything to you, Uncle Andy can't go with me."

"Sure..." He nods as well putting the phone down on the table and takes a last sip of his coffee. "Finish that and brush your teeth, I'll pick this up and we'll go." He instructs him, Mingus finishes his juice and gets up from the table to get lost down the hallway.

As he watches him leave, hhe looks back at his phone and as he picks everything up, putting it in the dishwasher, he sends several messages. Mingus returns minutes later, ready to leave, Norman picks up his backpack and gestures for him to leave the house, but not before grabbing the bike by the door. Mingus smiles excitedly, he likes it when his father rides behind him on the bike or the motorcycle, it's fun and he feels his stomach swirl when they go at high speed, especially on the motorcycle. Mingus stands upright on the back of the bike and holds onto his father's shoulders as he pedals off in the direction of the school.

***************************

"Good morning Norman, good morning Mingus." They are greeted by several parents as they arrive at the school gate, Norman holds his son's hand as he pushes the bike with the other.

"Good morning." They greet at the same time.

The school doors have not yet opened, people are clustering at the entrance waiting, some who have more limited time due to work schedules, leave the children in the care of other trusted parents and leave, Norman makes his way through the various groups until he feels a tug on his shirt.

"Dad, there's Riley, can I go say hi?" He asks pointing to the little girl.

"Of course." He can't help but smile in amusement and lets go of his hand to watch him run over to her friend.

Riley and Mingus have been friends since they started school, somewhat scared of change, they connected right away and were almost inseparable. He slowly approaches watching as you, Riley's mother, greet Mingus with a warm smile and ruffling his blond locks. At first Norman found it hard to talk to you, making friends between parents wasn't something he was particularly excited about either, but children made friends and had to have at least a respectful relationship with each other, for the younger ones, with you it was harder, always surrounded by other mothers, curious and gossipy, maybe too interested to know why you were always alone, Norman doesn't deny that he is curious too, but he keeps it to himself. Mingus and Riley were the ones who helped you talk for the first time, it was going to be Mingus' birthday party, the boy had invited all the kids in the class, luckily there weren't many, and some had the privilege of staying over at the apartment, Riley was going to be one of them, but first he had to ask permission from her mother, you.

"Hi, I'm Norman, Mingus' father." He introduced himself to you formally.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Riley's mother." You introduced yourself as well by shaking his hand.

"I guess Riley must have already shown you the card, but we're celebrating Mingus' birthday at home this weekend." He explained and you made a surprised face.

"That cool card was made by you?" you looked at Mingus who smiled proudly.

"Yup!" Norman laughed wanting to find out from whom he had inherited that confidence.

"Mingus wanted to ask Riley if he could have a sleepover that day." He spoke again catching your attention. "There will be other children staying as well, I will be with them at all times and will personally drive them home the next day." He explained to put your mind at ease, you looked at him doubtfully just the same, they were still very young and leaving your daughter with a stranger made you uneasy.

"Mom, please!" Riley tugged on your sleeve, pouting exaggeratedly.

"Well, I guess it might be fun for them." You agreed, watching as the little ones jumped for joy.

"Great, anyway, on the card I've written my phone number, in case there's an emergency or you need to know if Riley's okay, you can call anytime or text me." Norman wanted to calm you down and you smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Norman, that's nice of you." You assured him honestly.

From that day until today, it has been easier for the two of you to talk and connect. Norman feels that there are still strained issues between you, that you're not quite comfortable, but it's not with him, it's a situation in general, like you can't trust people just like that. Norman tries to always give you your space and not bother you, but he has to admit that his curiosity for you has been increasing every day. It's more than just a physical attraction, he doesn't deny that it's there too, but he feels good talking to you, being close, sharing little moments with your kids, telling anecdotes from school or your day to day life, you don't meet for coffee or drinks as if you were lifelong friends, but every now and then you share a message just to make sure each other is ok, if the day has been hard or just to say you're there.

"Good morning." He greets you both when he reaches you and you smile.

"Good morning, Norman." You respond and Riley turns her attention back to his friend. "Working out since first period?" you joke pointing to the bike with your chin and Norman laughs.

"I'm a sporty guy, I can't help it." He follows your joke and you both let out a chuckle. "I have to go to work later and it's across town, with this it's faster than the subway or car."

"I see, you want me to stay with Mingus? If you're in a hurry..."

"No, no need, I always have time, no problem." He shrugs. He has to admit that being a single parent sometimes at work gives him a certain advantage with the scheduling issue. "I'd like to talk to you about some business..." he tells you, lowering his voice a little, glancing sideways at the kids who are engrossed in their business.

"Is something wrong?" You ask him in the same tone of voice.

"No, it's just... I heard that next week there's a field trip with the school."

"Oh yeah, it's three days, we're going to some museums and an amusement park... Do you want me to take Mingus with us? Riley doesn't have a bus buddy yet so I'll be able to watch them both no problem."

"I actually want to go, but I have to talk to my bosses about letting me have those days off, but I want to surprise Mingus." he smiles and you look at her excitedly and nod. "Anyway, if I couldn't go..."

"Of course Norman, count me in, Riley and Mingus are thick as thieves, so it'll be great if you can go together."

"Thanks, will you keep it a secret for me?" he smiles and you laugh.

"Of course, count on it." You hold up your pinky as a sign of promise, Norman smiles and intertwines his pinky with yours to seal said promise.

Norman feels a strange current running through him, he stares at you, but lets go of your hand and takes a step back not wanting to make the situation uncomfortable. The school doors open, you all say goodbye to your children and when they are inside the building you slowly walk away, Norman walks with you to the nearest subway station, pushing his bike, the two of you plan how you want to do about next week's trip.

"You really don't want me to give you a lift?" he offers, pointing to his small vehicle.

"No offense, but I don't think it can handle both of us." You laugh nervously and shake your head. "But thanks, see you later, Norman."

"Sure, see you later." He waves goodbye to you by hopping on his bike and as you disappear down the subway stairs, he rides away towards his work.

******************

Norman needs to pull several strings to get the days off he's asked for, he's had a bit of a falling out with his bosses, but they've finally granted him the full week on the condition that he makes up those hours and works from home during the field trip. Norman doesn't plan to do shit those three days, he wants to enjoy his son, but he will take advantage of the hotel time to get organized. He has made payment for the trip, some parents didn't seem too happy about this, it had been planned in advance and some things had to be modified, you stepped in to defend his situation.

"Riley and I are going alone, we don't need to book another room, or count more bus seats, we all fit right in."

It didn't take long to hear whispers and gibbering about how two adults were going to share a room without being a couple, what would the kids say or what would they think, even Norman's heart skipped a beat at the thought of it, but he really wanted to go on that trip. Once that was settled, he talked Andy out of worrying about taking care of Mingus those days, that he had solved the problem and was going with the boy on the trip. Andy wasn't the little boy's biological uncle, Andrew had been a good friend of Norman's for many years, almost like a brother and he knew he could rely on him for things like that, that he and his wife didn't mind taking care of the blond boy for a few days.

"Are you sure things will be all right at work?"

"Yes, I've arranged it and will go another partner for me, I'll have to make up those days, but I don't mind."

"That's okay man, enjoy the trip and have a good time with Mingus." Andy encouraged him.

So that morning the alarm clock rings earlier than usual, but Norman has no trouble getting up, he is excited thinking about the reaction his son might have when he finds out they are going on a trip. He gets out of bed, finishes packing the suitcase with clothes for the two of them, not much, after all it's only three days, gets dressed and goes to his son's room.

"Wake up, champ, time to get up!" He tells him shaking his little body.

"Dad, it's too early!" He protests seeing on the clock that it's not even time for school.

"I know, but if we want to get to the bus, we have to get up early." He smiles when he sees Mingus' eyes widen.

"Bus?"

"Yes, we're going on the field trip with the school."

"But...you had to go on the trip..."

"I talked to work and another co-worker is going for me." He shrugs.

"But Dad, won't they be mad?"

"Of course not, come on, get dressed." he urges him out of the room to prepare something to eat for the trip and a light breakfast so the boy doesn't get carsick on the trip.

Of course Mingus doesn't stop smiling and bouncing, as if he had suffered a sugar overdose, he squeezes his father's hand, walking quickly, today they had to take the subway to get to school since they couldn't leave the bike there for so many days or take the bike to the excursion. Norman lets his son's excitement wash over him, allowing him to pull him along impatiently, listening to all the plans he has in his head.

"Who will I ride the bus with?" He asks curiously and his father smiles.

"With Riley and her mother, we'll be sharing a room with them at the hotel too." He warns him, Mingus' eyes snap open.

"Dad!" His cheeks take on a ruddy color that make Norman can't hide a giggle.

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Of course not!"

"It's the only spare room left and they don't mind, but if you want I can ask for a room just for us." He says pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and quickly Mingus grabs it by the wrist.

"No, no, no, never mind." He shakes his head and Norman wraps an arm around him, pinning him to his side.

"Come on or we won't make it."

The school entrance is full of parents and children with backpacks and different suitcases, some bigger, some smaller, all waiting for the bus to arrive to start the field trip. Norman gestures to his son as you and Riley spot them. The boy greets his friend effusively as they walk over to you, Norman drags the suitcase over and takes the backpack off the boy so he can go play with his friend and the rest of his classmates.

"Good morning." You greet him, Norman shakes his head in greeting coming to your side. "Are we still waking up?" you poke him laughing.

"Hush, don't think it didn't cost me." He snorts rubbing his eyes.

"How did Mingus like the surprise?"

"I think he's still processing it, he got quite a surprise, but he loved the idea."

"I'm glad, I would have loved to see his face." You comment watching the kids play.

Norman has to bite his tongue in time to keep from saying that to himself too. He doesn't want to do anything awkward, but for a while now Norman notices that the friendship you two have, for him is becoming something more, he likes you, he finds you a very interesting woman, funny, off topic attractive, but he has never made a move for fear of not being reciprocated and that it could affect the friendship between the two children. He's an adult, he knows he can control the situation without it being violent to either of them.

"Everything okay at work?" you ask him then, Norman nods.

"I'll have to work at the hotel, when we have a moment, but I'm not leaving Mingus alone." He shrugs. "I'll make up those hours any way I can."

You look at him curiously, you have to admit you love to see Norman pouring himself into his son like that, work is important, they have to get ahead, but no more so than his family, Mingus is now at an age of absorption and growth, having his father figure around to teach him and take care of him will be meaningful to him. Sometimes you'd like to ask why it's just the two of them, but then you remember that he might ask you the same question and your body aches just thinking about it. Norman takes out a box of cigarettes and lights one, moves a little away from the group of parents so as not to disturb anyone, and fiddles with it between his fingers. You approach him, placing yourself next to him, you have never liked tobacco smoke, but it's funny how that same smell relaxes you when traveling, your family has always been smokers and the smell of a new car makes you more dizzy than the smell of tobacco.

"Sorry, but it's going to be a long trip and I don't think we'll be making many stops." He apologizes pointing to the cigarette.

"Never mind, we all have our vices." You joke but he nods.

When the bus arrives, the children are placed with their seating partner, the teachers number them and the parents do their own mental head count to make sure no one is left behind. You and Norman sit together in the seats behind Mingus and Riley, all the kids can't wait for the field trip to start, they can't stop laughing and talking, chaos is assured, but it's a good thing. The parents keep a silent eye on them, making sure they don't get into any mischief that might disturb or distract the driver. You and Norman can feel the eyes of the other adults on the back of your necks, but you don't say anything. Halfway through the trip the vast majority of the children have fallen asleep and all the parents relax at the same time.

The first day's excursion is educational, they will go to several museums, an aquarium and have a little guide around the city, in the evening they will go to the hotel to check in and have dinner and the next day they will go to the amusement park, then the last day will be educational again stopping at several places on the way back home.

"It's going to be a tough day." He says to Mingus as they get off the bus at the first stop and loads up with the boy's backpack.

"We're going to the aquarium." He tells him with a huge grin and Norman laughs low.

"That's right, I forgot." He pretends to apologize and strokes his hair letting his go with the rest of the kids.

"I think someone is regretting the trip." You prod him and he laughs.

"It's not that...it's just that I'm amazed at the energy they always have, no matter what, there's always something good."

"That's why they're kids." You smile giving him a touch of encouragement on the back and fall in line with the rest of the group.

The morning is long and intense, the kids have enjoyed themselves, the museum has been a bit boring for them, Norman likes art, in fact when he has some time he always likes to paint or go out to take some pictures, but he understands that maybe for some kids seeing so many paintings has been a bit dense, the aquarium was more exciting, even Norman had fun, there, being careful not to disturb the fish, he took out his camera and allowed himself to take some pictures, the children, his son, Mingus with Riley, the installations, even some animals that he found curious. He also took some pictures of you, without wanting to look creepy, but he found you so immersed watching the main tank, your curious smile, your eyes shining with intensity, the reflection of the water on your skin, he couldn't help it and had to shoot a couple of pictures, maybe he will show them to you later, or maybe not and keep them as a little secret for himself. He hasn't decided yet.

At the hotel, dinner has been a complete chaos, the children, tired from the whole trip, wanting to go to their beds, have become hyperactive and noisy, although you try to calm them down and put some order, the rest of the hotel restaurant does not seem very happy with all the commotion. Finally you can go to your rooms, drop your bags and rest from the day. Norman opens the door and lets the kids in first, there is shouting and cheering all around the room. You roll your eyes and walk in asking them to calm down.

"Oh, shit..." Norman hears you behind you and he peeks over your shoulder.

"Oh shit, what?" he asks and then sees it. "Oh shit..."

The room only has three beds, two singles for the kids and one family size possibly for the two adults, thinking you were the parents of the two kids or there were no more rooms left with single adult beds. You fidget nervously and Norman chews his lip several times.

"Hey, never mind, I'll sleep with Mingus in the small bed." He says to calm you down.

"What? No! Dad, you move too much, you'll knock me off the bed." He protests and Riley laughs.

"That's not true." Defends his father.

"It's okay, it doesn't matter, the bed is big enough for both of us." You shrug and Norman looks at you in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah, well, unless you're uncomfortable..."

"No, no, no, not at all." He shakes his head. "It's fine like that, yeah."

"Okay then Riley and I are going to shower first...is that okay with you guys?"

"Sure, no problem, I'll take advantage and go over some work stuff." Norman says pulling his laptop out of his suitcase.

Agreed on the shower time, you grab your stuff and your daughter's and both of you go into the bathroom so as not to keep your companions waiting, as you're sure Mingus is just as tired as Riley and will just want to go to sleep. Norman sits on the edge of the bed pulling his son's pajamas out of the suitcase and an old t-shirt along with some shorts for him.

"Dad..." Mingus' voice makes him look at him curiously, his heart flips at the sight of his exhausted eyes, but he still fights to stay awake. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, champ, what's up?"

"Do you like Riley's mom?" he asks with complete sincerity and Norman feels himself lose the color from his face only to explode an intense heat in his cheeks.

"W-what?" he mumbles trying to search his mind for a good answer. "Who told you...?"

"Riley and I have been talking about how cool it would be if you and her mom were together...we'd be brothers." He comments again and Norman doesn't know where to jump in.

"Re-Really?" he swallows hard and is thankful that the noise of the shower is maybe muffling that conversation for you guys, mortified enough he feels already. "B-but that's not how it works, kiddo..."

"Why not, do you like any of your friends?"

Oh his friends... Norman has had girl-friends, not many, but like everyone else, sometimes he needs to have contact with other humans, adults, and he has had the odd date, he hasn't introduced Mingus to all of them, they have always been nice to him and Mingus has been curious, but it has never ended up being anything serious. Norman has never had this talk with him because he thought he was too young yet. He sighs scratching the stubble on his chin, thinking about what he can say to him.

"It's not about that, it's been a while since I've had those kind of friends, but you see..." He chews his lip again, searching for the right words. "Even if I liked Riley's mom, it doesn't mean we're going to be together."

"Why?"

"Because maybe she doesn't feel the same way." He shrugs.

"Why don't you ask her?" He looks at him confused and Norman purses his lips. Of course to a child everything is very logical and he understands, but we adults like to make things complicated.

"What if I asked her and she didn't feel the same way? Imagine if things got really weird and you and Riley would never talk to each other again."

"That's not going to happen. Riley is my best friend."

Mingus' crushing logic completely disarms him. He loves his son's honesty and sincerity. He smiles and hugs him warmly, kissing him on the cheek.

"Don't ever change, kiddo." He asks him, confusing the boy some more.

After everyone goes through the shower, the boys stay talking some more in their beds until sleep overcomes them and they fall completely asleep. Norman walks out onto the terrace of the room with his laptop and his box of cigarettes, he's been a good father, he's gone all day without smoking, he deserves a break. He sits down at the table outside, turns on the laptop and while it's charging, he smokes a cigarette, the smoke slowly coming out of his nose. His mind still spinning from the conversation with his son, he feels like he still has goosebumps from it.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" your voice startles him, lifting his head like a spring, you're in the door frame of the terrace, already in your pajamas, watching him.

"Not yet, I have to get some work stuff ready." He denies and takes another puff on his cigarette.

"Okay..." You look at him and walk out sitting in front of him.

"No need to stay, if you're tired go to bed, I'll come later." He assures you, feeling a little nervous.

"No, it's okay, I'll wait for you, the kids are completely asleep."

"Yes, it's been a long day for them." He nods and you both laugh.

The silence that forms between you is quiet and pleasant, you lean back against the table as Norman's fingers and eyes move fast focused on his work. It's not too much, a little editing work, he just has to download the documents and tomorrow he'll take care of it, he sends a draft of a presentation to his bosses and texts his partner to find out how the meeting went. When the documents are downloaded, he turns off the laptop.

"Okay, I'm done..." His voice drops when he discovers that you are asleep on the table. He smiles watching you, he knows it's nothing special, but he sees you beautiful at that moment. He reaches out and squeezes your arm gently. "Hey, wake up." He whispers. "Let's go to sleep."

"Okay..." You whisper, more asleep than awake.

The two of you walk noiselessly into the room, the kids not even flinching, totally submerged in Morpheus' arms, Norman rolls the bed around to his side, opens the sheets and pulls off his shirt, laying face up on the mattress. You curl up on your side, hugging the pillow, turning your back to him.

"Good night, Norman."

"Good night..." He replies, but he doesn't know if he'll be able to sleep, his heart beating so loudly he's afraid even you might hear it.

The trip is proving to be really interesting and Norman is glad he was able to get away from work.

.

.

The End.

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Okay, I think I'm going to pass here, I'm making the story too long, sorry.

Hope you liked it!!

See you all in the next stories!!

Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @minervadashwood @livingdeadblondequeen @bringinsexybackk69 @phoenixblack89

[syrips]

hello im gonna pin this post

hello my name is Syrips, im a super duper simp and simp/self-insert enabler for others who love strahd or any cos/ravenloft/fictional characters

im 28, but i sometimes say im thirty as a vague response because its easier and faster to say (or safer to say to strangers)

i think i am autistic but i am currently only self-diagnosed; i plan to tell my doctors once i compile a binder of reasons why i think im autistic based on noted events in my childhood, behavior, and my reflected perspective on things in pages of charts and text which is a totally neurotypical thing to do

im genderfluid and i am fine with any and all pronouns (different people may use different/changing/fluid pronouns on me, i am completely fine with this)

im polyamorous and pansexual/panromantic, i gush over games that have polyamory/pan options!!

i have huge CoS/Ravenloft spoilers so please, PLEASe do not enter unless you are fine with being spoiled with all kinds of content. i also wont explain what is or isnt 'canon' because, well, some things may be canon for one person, while potential/not-canon for another, so i really cannot confirm or deny it myself.. ask your DM for confirmation! (and for my players who are here, hehe, goodluck figuring it out!)

i do music, art, crafting, and streaming sometimes, here is my linktree: https://linktr.ee/syrips

please 'ask'/message/send me any and all of your curse of strahd and/or ravenloft works of art! this can include these and more!:

playlists

moodboards

art/portfolio/link to your art or artblog

pages of your OC/PC/dnd lore (both player and DM welcome)

campaign/session notes and storytime

canon and potential-/home-/head-canon dumps

narrations/imagines/ao3/google docs/fanfic/fic writings

cool crafts!!

i crave it more than strahd craves blood, please and thank you!

you can also send me stuff and let me know if you want me to gush/simp over it, provide advice, or simply acknowledge it (publicly or privately)! let me know in advance cuz i dont want to make you uncomfortable with what you share

i have no limits on triggering fictional content, just make sure to tw it properly if it is sensitive content for others

my Ask thingy is always open, i may ramble alot if i get passionate enough though so be warned! hehe

ok goodbye ill edit or change this whenever idk

Edit Entry 1 - 11th Moon, 2023

for context, keita/raze (he/him) is my irl partner. he's been a simp for alucard (castlevania) longer than i've begun simping for strahd. i only discovered this years into the relationship when we watched castlevania (where i expected to be a bigger simp for castlevania), and instead HE made high pitch simping noises as alucard appeared on the screen and i was like -sus eyes- wait a GOSH DARN MINUTE-. also, keita has a thing for necks. i shrugged it off when he first told me, but years later i started simping for strahd and now i look back at that moment like 'hm. odd.-'. anyways, i mostly started dating him because he sounds like a kermit the frog southern guy who goes 'howdy howdy' and he says 'i should be golden' unironically and i think thats pretty funny

i tag stuff as #making a keita tag so when keita presses this he can see all the stuff that he likes so that i can organize stuff and incase he ever decides to poke around my blog and use this tag search within my blog

Edit Entry 2 and 3 - 12th Moon, 2023

syrips OC/PC list (loosely alphabetical)

Other People's Adored OC/PC list (loosely alphabetical)

Edit Entry 4 - 7th Moon, 2024

hi huge warning that im fucking WEIRD. like i know people may enjoy the idea of me for entertainment/indulgence purposes but please please. if you ask/tell me to do something, i will 90%-chance take it seriously and respond bluntly/directly. please take my warnings seriously and please please interact with me responsibly!!

and i already know some would be like, 'oh syrips people always say that. they wanna act unique/special by calling themselves weird'. like. thats fair if people dont believe that but please dont be surprised when freakos start feeling more comfortable/vulnerable around you and you become shocked. like. stop trying to shame/blame freakos for what they've warned since the beginning. please, it's hurtful and disrespectful.

my asks are always open, be as blunt/direct as you want. most of my cws will be with "cw: " before it. let me know if you want me to cw tag something!

i use the #be cringe be free tag for weirdos/freakos/happy/indulgent stuff. this can include stuff that isnt 'cringe', and/or cringe we embrace. it's okay to be cringe. it's okay to say cringe culture is dead. it's okay to not see things as cringe. it's okay to embrace the cringe. it's okay to indulge, to be your favorite version of you. it's okay to indulge, even if it's unfamiliar/scary. i use the tag for moments of doing what makes you happy, regardless if youre unfamiliar with that indulgent feeling. be cringe be free!!