#no I have no idea how he would fit in there but I'd be eager to find out

[lehdenlaulu]

Listen, Tolya had the exact same expression on his face when Kaz recognized the poem he quoted as he did when he thanked Inej for saving his life.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

thinkin about a reader who is a people-pleaser. who is so eager to please in bed. who needs to be needed. like you just can't quite get your head into your own pleasure unless you know he's enjoying himself. maybe part of it is that you want to feel wanted and to be what he wants.

you breathe into his ear, asking if he likes this, if this is what he wants; you need to know he's enjoying himself.

it's a good idea or it's a bad idea. depending.

nsfw ↓

GHOST senses the implicit question underneath immediately. you don't need to ask again. he's so equipped for a praise kink. you've shown him your weak point and goes for it, even if you yourself aren't totally aware of it. sinks his claws in and no lol you are never getting away. 

"course i like this," he murmurs, voice all gravel. "nowhere i'd rather be than inside you. you like this too?"

"yeah."

"like it when i talk to you? when i tell you how sexy you are like this? how tight you are?"

you clamp down on him in an involuntary response. he groans, then chuckles.

there is no sweeter place than right here between your thighs. he keeps talking, praise slipping out of his mouth while he watches you bunch and writhe, you squeezing him with your legs and your pussy, fitting him like you've got everything to offer him-- he dissolves into low, heated curses when you clamp down around him again and cum at his praise. you're done for. he'll never stop now.

GAZ is craftier about it. he'd never take advantage of you, darling, of course not. ignore how his voice dips, smooths, laces itself with authority, silk hiding steel. ignore the funny way his words seem suddenly smug. it flutters in your gut the way sees the power you're giving him and takes it with both hands--wields it like he's rescuing you from yourself. 

"of course i like this. now don't think so hard, sweet thing. let me handle it for you." 

he would never abuse his power over you, of course not, not even when he's edged you for so long tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you're begging him, and his eyes darken. voice soft, veiled, his murmuring hiding something you can't detect under the need he's stoking in you. 

he doesn't release you until you've told him what you want. this isn't just about him, he chides; he wants to know what you want. he wants to please you. but somehow, the lust in his eyes when you're begging him for release--to do what only he can do for you--somehow that's the only thing on your mind when you finally cum.

SOAP is pure id. you want to know what he likes? if he likes this? he'll tell you, yeah, he likes it, and the way you double down on riding him makes him want to cum then and there. it's not just the way you feel. it's the look on your face, the tension on your body, like you have something to prove. you're fighting your goddamn demons just bouncing on his dick. 

it makes him worse. he doesn't manipulate you. it's not like that. but you asked, aye? you wanted to know, didn't you? wanted to know what he likes, what makes him feel good, and soap wants to try everything. more than that, he wants to see you try everything. he wants to see the look in your eyes when he overstimulates you, when he puts you on your knees and pushes his boot against your cunt, making you ride it as you suck him off. he wants to blindfold you, cuff you, get you prone and under him in every possible sense and push you to your limit. all he has to do is reassure you that he's abso-fuckin-lutely enjoying this, hen. enjoying that fucked-out look in your eyes, that look of surprise on your face when you find something new that gets you off, that look he becomes most fond of--the "fuck, this just woke something in me" look. he fucking loves pulling orgasms from you that you never expected to have. and you're doing such a good job, aren't you? you're working so hard. 

he lavishes the praise on you. it takes no time at all for you to start responding to his praise even when it's clear he's turned on by just how depraved you're willing to be for his enjoyment. 

"you'd do anything for me, wouldn't ya?"

it makes him so goddamn hard when all you can do is affirm, half-babbling, wanting more praise. all he has to do is reassure you that he likes this. and he does. he really does.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[justlemmeadoreyou]

3. protectively watchful (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here)

summary: you take up on the mantorship offer, but it creates more tensions and turmoil within you than were before. an incident in the kitchen makes harry go into protective mode, and you can't help but get turned on by this man more and more.

words: 4.8k

warnings: sexual tension (like A LOT), inappropriate behaviour, protective!harry.

***

"You wanted to see me, Chef?"

You gave a light knock on the open door of Harry's office, trying to sound polite and professional. It had been a few weeks since you had that talk with Harry about keeping things strictly business between you two. During that time, he had been a perfect mentor - giving you advice and guidance without any flirting or suggestive comments.

His coaching had really helped improve your cooking skills as you soaked up all his knowledge and experience. You were grateful to have a normal working relationship again, focused solely on culinary training. And yet...you couldn't ignore the faint lingering tension between you, that subtle underlying charge.

Harry looked up from the notebooks on his desk, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile when he saw you. "Ah, there you are. Come on in, have a seat."

You sat down in one of the chairs across from him as Harry neatened up the loose papers into a stack. Up close, you couldn't help noticing how well-fitted his black button-down shirt was, or how his tousled hair looked very touchable.  

Firmly reminding yourself this was just a professional meeting, you averted your eyes politely until Harry cleared his throat.

"So as you know, the big Martin gala fundraiser is coming up in a few weeks," he began, shuffling through some folders. "It's one of the biggest events of the year for underprivileged culinary education programs. I'll be preparing the featured dish for their live auction, and I'd love for you to assist me on it."

Your eyes went wide with surprise at this prestigious opportunity. The Martin gala was a hugely famous event in Chicago's culinary scene, attracting all the wealthiest and most notable diners. For an up-and-coming chef to collaborate on the centerpiece dish was an amazing honor and chance to get exposure.

"Wow, yes of course!" you replied enthusiastically. "I would be absolutely honored, Chef. Thank you for this incredible opportunity."  

Harry's dimples deepened as he smiled approvingly. "Don't thank me yet. We'll be under a huge spotlight to deliver an amazing showstopper dish. I expect you to rise to the challenge."

You quickly nodded. "You can count on me to give it my absolute best effort. I'm ready to do whatever work is needed."

"Excellent," Harry said in a slightly lower, huskier tone. "That's exactly what I like to hear."  

For a moment, his voice had a heated quality that hinted at other situations where your eagerness might be welcome. You ignored the shiver it sent through you, reminding yourself this was strictly business now between you two.

Harry seemed to realize he was skirting the line, as he abruptly straightened up and all hints of flirtation disappeared as he switched fully into mentor mode. "Right, well let me walk you through my basic vision so far..."

You leaned forward attentively as he outlined preliminary ideas for a highly ambitious and avant-garde dish blending molecular gastronomy techniques with classic French cuisine fundamentals. It was wildly cutting-edge, even for a showpiece event like the Martin gala. But the more details Harry provided, the more that same thrill of adrenaline rushed through you whenever presented with a new culinary challenge to conquer.

For the next hour, the two of you bounced ideas back and forth in that unique creative flow state that chefs share. Harry's presence was magnetic, but you refused to get distracted by more physical aspects - like the stretch of his biceps against his crisp sleeves, the hint of toned abs beneath his open collar, or the raspy timbre of his voice dipping into that lower register as he passionately discussed certain techniques.  

And oh, his damn tattoos.

No, you sternly told yourself as the conversation began wrapping up. Those days of getting flustered around him were over. Harry had made it clear where you stood, and you fully accepted those boundaries. Anything else was just self-torture.

"...but of course, those are just preliminary thoughts," Harry was saying as he collected the scattered folders into a neat pile. "We'll have plenty of time to refine the details over the next couple weeks."  

You nodded, filing away the mental notes you'd taken during the discussion. "Absolutely, Chef. Just let me know whatever you need for prep or testing different ideas to get a head start."

"Will do." With an air of finality, Harry gathered up the pile and rose from his seat. You quickly stood up as well, not wanting him to loom over you in the enclosed space. For a beat, you both hovered awkwardly, the air seeming to thicken between you.  

"Well then," Harry said, making no move to step past you towards the door. "I'd say this calls for a drink to celebrate our new collaboration, wouldn't you agree?"

Before you could reply, he turned and went to a small antique cabinet tucked in an alcove you hadn't noticed before. With a practiced hand, Harry selected a heavy glass decanter and two tumblers, placing them on the cabinet and expertly twisting off the stopper.

"Let's go with Lagavulin," he mused aloud, carefully pouring two generous glasses of the amber scotch whisky. "A good Scottish whisky seems appropriate for the occasion."  

"I really shouldn't, Chef," you said reflexively, already picturing your lightweight self getting sloppy and unprofessional after even a single drink.

But Harry just chuckled softly. "Loosen up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

He emphasized this by bringing one of the heavy tumblers over and pressing the cool glass into your hand. You frowned down at the coppery liquid, worrying your lower lip uncertainly. But before you could protest further, Harry gently clinked his glass against yours in a silent toast before taking a sizable sip.

The whisky's smoky, peaty aroma seemed to wrap around you intimately. Despite your hesitation, you couldn't help giving an appreciative inhale before taking a small, tentative sip yourself. Bold, layered flavors of vanilla, caramel, and charred oak underscored by an earthy smokiness burst over your tongue. You let out a soft sigh of indulgent pleasure at the decadent taste.

"Good, isn't it?" Harry's gravelly voice made you start slightly. He was watching you with amusement, whisky glass dangling casually from those large, handsome fingers. "It really hits you in the back of the throat, makes you slow down and savor it fully."

You suddenly realized the suggestive implication behind his phrasing and felt a flush of heat bloom across your face and chest. Harry watched the play of emotions flickering over your features with relish before taking another indulgent sip. This time, you noticed the way his full lips pursed delicately to drink, the tiny furrow of concentration between his brows as he savored the flavor before swallowing.

Unconsciously, your eyes tracked the mesmerizing flex of his throat as he swallowed, the hint of stubble grazing along his chiseled jawline. A twinge low in your abdomen accompanied the thought of feeling that scratchy burn of beard between your thighs, that talented mouth working magic elsewhere on your body.

Mortified, you shut down that wayward trail of thought through sheer willpower. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized Harry had caught you staring, his own gaze darkly amused.  

"Easy there," he murmured huskily, stepping a bit deeper into your personal space. "This dish is a marathon, not a sprint. Best to learn to savor every indulgent morsel along the way."

With a pointed look and arched brow, Harry raised his whisky to those plump lips once more, holding your gaze as he placed the rim against that full lower lip and let out an obscenely gratifying groan of pure delight.

Moments after, the tension had subsided, but the flush and blush that had creeped up your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon–you were sure of that.

***

You tried to push aside the lingering thoughts about the “Celebration” that were now implaed into your mind, and the way tiny droplets of the drink remained on his lips till he licked them off with his tongue–

You wanted that tongue to be yours.

Shaking your head, you focused on prepping the ingredients for the evening service. The dinner rush would be starting soon and you needed to have everything ready. As you worked, you were vaguely aware of the dining room filling up with patrons being seated. The sounds and aromas of the bustling kitchen surrounded you in a familiar, comforting way.

You were so engrossed in your tasks that you didn't notice the man approach until he cleared his throat loudly. Looking up, you saw a smartly-dressed diner smiling at you in a way that made you instinctively uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," he said in a syrupy tone. "I was just admiring the delicious-looking fare over here." He raked an obvious look up and down your body. "The menu selections have my mouth watering already."

You stiffened, recognizing the overly familiar leer. This wasn't the first time you'd dealt with an obnoxious patron hitting on you. Keeping your expression neutral, you replied in a polite but firm tone. "I'm afraid you'll need to return to the dining room, sir. The kitchen is off-limits to guests."

Rather than taking the hint, the man leaned nonchalantly against your prep station. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was just hoping you could suggest something...special for me to sample tonight." He punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Suppressing a grimace, you turned away to continue your work, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck. The lech sidled closer until he was nearly pressed against you. "What do you say? I'd love for a tasty little thing like you to--" 

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the kitchen area immediately." Harry's firm baritone cut across the man's words like a whip crack.  

You looked up in relief to see your boss standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched as he glared at the offending patron. Even from several feet away, you could sense the potent force of his displeasure rolling off him in waves.

The diner seemed to shrink slightly under Harry's censorious scowl. "Oh, uh, my apologies. I was just trying to get some personal recommendations--"

"The kitchen is off-limits and you're making my staff uncomfortable," Harry interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't ask again. Return to your table or you'll be asked to leave the premises."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the lech swiftly retreated with some mumbled apologies. You exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the unpleasant encounter. Harry stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked you over with concern.

"You okay? That asshole didn't go too far, did he?"

You managed a faint smile, oddly touched by the protective edge in his voice. "I'm fine, Chef. Just another boorish customer thinking the uniform is a dinner invitation."  

His jaw tightened again as he scowled in the direction the man had gone. "That type of behavior is completely unacceptable. You let me know right away if anyone hassles you like that again, understand?"

Nodding, you found yourself blinking rapidly against the unexpected prickle of grateful tears at having Harry firmly in your corner, despite the complicated dynamics between you lately.  

For a long moment, he watched you carefully as if gauging your equilibrium. Then Harry surprised you by reaching out and briefly squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The warmth of his large hand seeped through your uniform, leaving a tingly imprint even after he pulled away.

"I've got your back, [Y/N]. You focus on doing your job and let me deal with any assholes who get out of line."

The gruff tenderness in his words made your heart do a traitorous little flip in your chest. You nodded again, not trusting your voice enough to respond properly.

With one final pointed look, Harry turned and headed back out to his front-of-house duties.  As you watched his broad-shouldered form disappear through the swinging doors of the kitchen, you felt a complicated tangle of gratitude, protectiveness, affection...and yes, a lingering undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't seem to fully extinguish despite your best efforts.

You spent the rest of the dinner service determinedly pushing aside any lingering thoughts about Harry or the earlier incident. Focusing fully on your work was the only way to get through these confusing emotions that had you all over the place..

The rhythm of prepping, plating, and coordinating with the other line cooks settled into a familiar, reassuring routine. The constant flurry of chopping, sautéing, and barked orders provided a sort of meditative escape from your muddled headspace.

By the time the last diner had been served and the kitchen was winding down for the night, you felt pleasantly drained in that satisfying way that comes from a job well done. As you began breaking down your station for cleaning, Harry emerged from his office looking satisfied.

"Excellent work tonight, everyone," he called out in that effortlessly commanding tone. "Front-of-house said the new salmon dish was a huge hit. We'll definitely want to keep that one on the seasonal menu." 

A chorus of tired but pleased murmurs went around the kitchen at the praise. Harry's eyes found yours amidst the small crowd, holding your gaze a beat longer than strictly necessary before moving on to the other cooks. You tried not to read too much into it.

With the nightly pep talk concluded, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white chef's coat, joining everyone in the evening breakdown and cleaning duties. You watched surreptitiously as he expertly broke down one of the grill stations, muscles in his broad forearms flexing enticingly with each efficient movement.  

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, quickly refocusing on scrubbing down your own prep area. This was exactly the kind of distracted, unprofessional behavior you were trying to avoid lately around Harry.

Despite your best efforts, however, you couldn't fully ignore him moving about the kitchen, checking in with each station to oversee their sanitation. At one point, he paused to examine some utensils that hadn't been properly cleaned, tsking in displeasure before batting them aside to be re-scrubbed.  

"That's never going to meet inspection," he chided the sheepish-looking young line cook in his trademark gruff tone. "Do it again, and do it properly this time. We're not running a greasy spoon here."  

As much as his uncompromising attitude could be intimidating, you also found it oddly...thrilling to witness Harry taking charge so authoritatively. Not to mention the visual of those powerful hands deftly at work was sending your thoughts in an unprofessional direction yet again.

Sternly redirecting your focus, you turned your back to give the area behind the grill station a thorough scrubbing. You were so engrossed that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Harry's low voice sounded directly in your ear.

"Everything looking good over here?" 

You whirled around to find him looming directly behind you, near enough that you could smell the spicy notes of his subtle cologne mingling with the lingering kitchen aromas clinging to him. Up this close, you couldn't help noticing how the top buttons of his coat had come undone at some point, offering a teasing glimpse of the toned chest beneath.

Trying not to stare, you quickly averted your eyes as you nodded. "Y-yes, Chef. All clean on this side."

"Hmm." His assessing gaze slowly raked over your work before returning to your flushed face. The tiniest of smirks played about his lips as if he could read the direction of your thoughts.  

"Well, then. Carry on," was all he said before turning and strolling unhurriedly back towards his office, burgundy cargo pants slung enticingly low on those lean hips.

You let out a shaky breath, mentally cursing how easily flustered you still became around this man, no matter how much you tried to enforce boundaries. Resolutely, you refocused on finishing your cleaning tasks, determined to get out of there before any more distracted lapses in professionalism.

By the time the kitchen had been scoured from top to bottom, you were one of the last few staffers remaining. Wearily peeling off your apron, you were just reaching for your bag when Harry reappeared, looking unhurried and relaxed now that the nightly duties were done.

"Heading out?" he asked as you approached, one thick eyebrow raised questioningly.

You stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. "Yeah, I'm beat. Gonna try and get some extra sleep before the morning prep shift tomorrow."

He made a noncommittal sound, falling into step beside you as you headed for the employee exit out back. For a few moments, you walked in silence, oddly aware of the warmth radiating off his body this close to yours.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't at all what you expected. "You did good with that asshole customer earlier."

Your steps faltered slightly at the praise before quickly recovering. "Oh...uh, thanks, Chef. You really didn't need to step in like that."

"The hell I didn't," he countered gruffly. There was an edge to his tone that made the tiny hairs at your nape prickle. "No one treats my staff like piece of meat, especially not in my own goddamn kitchen."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the very idea, causing a lock of mahogany hair to fall rakishly across his furrowed brow in a way that really shouldn't have been as distracting as it was.

Swallowing hard, you refocused on the matter at hand. "I've dealt with guys like that before. Just comes with the territory sometimes, y'know?"

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he insisted, mouth setting into a grim line. You found yourself unable to look away from the sharp angles of his frowning profile, chiseled jaw ticking faintly with irritation, that he tried to mask.

He fixed you with those intense pale eyes, all traces of humor gone. "No one - and I mean no one - gets to treat any of you with disrespect while I'm in charge around here. I won't stand for that shit under my roof."

The ferocity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver rippling through you, though from wariness or...something else entirely, you couldn't say. All you knew was the low, authoritative resonance of Harry's voice carried an unmistakable air of command that raised goosebumps along your arms.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact you were walking in such close proximity out of public view. Or hell, maybe it was just the sheer presence of this man who could flip between stern taskmaster and something rawer, more carnal in the blink of an eye.

Whatever it was, you felt that subtle spark between you ignite and suddenly, you desperately needed to be alone to process the yearning that flickered to life low in your belly. Before you could consider the impulse further, you were blurting out the first excuse that came to mind.

"Well, thanks again for that. And for the whole mentorship thing too. I, uh...I actually have some errands to run, so I'll just catch you tomorrow morning, 'kay?" 

You didn't even give Harry a chance to respond before ducking through the exit, muscles taut with confused tension. As the cool night enveloped you, you drew a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to steady yourself.

Whatever weird atmospheric flux had momentarily enveloped you back there was too dangerous, too distracting from the tenuous balance you and Harry had only just reestablished. No, it was better to put some space between you before things got muddied again.

With a fierceness born of sheer force of will, you wrestled your turbulent, wandering thoughts back under control. You were a professional, with goals to work towards. Getting pulled into Harry's electrifying orbit again would only derail you.

Still, as you hurried to your car, his shape-shifting countenance kept flashing unbidden across your memory - the dazzling smile, the brooding intensity, the simmering promise of authority barely restrained. All of it provided an infuriatingly potent combination that had your body humming with repressed longing despite yourself.

This was going to take more effort than you'd anticipated.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of grueling practice runs and preparation for the Martin gala. You and Harry spent nearly every waking hour in the kitchen, iterating endlessly on his showpiece dish concept.

With the prestigious event date rapidly approaching, any lingering awkwardness or tension between you had been shifted firmly into the background. The shared urgency of perfecting this culinary masterpiece became an all-consuming focus that left little room for anything else.

Still, that didn't stop you from noticing...things.

Like how the sleeves of Harry's whites had an endearing tendency to get shoved up his forearms in a way that displayed those tanned, sinewy muscles to distracting effect as he worked. You definitely didn't linger over the sight of his strong hands deftly wielding a knife, making precise, practiced cuts. And you absolutely did not imagine those dexterous fingers trailing across your skin instead of the cutting board.  

At least, that's what you sternly told yourself in an ongoing effort to maintain focus.

For his part, Harry was all business during these preparation sessions - issuing clipped instructions, evaluating ingredients with a critical eye, pushing both of you relentlessly to get every component just right. Only rarely did you catch hints of something more underneath that professional veneer.

Like the time you were bent over a burner, carefully spooning out the orbs of flavored olive oil onto the waiting plate. Harry stepped up behind you to examine your work, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. As he leaned in closer to inspect the delicate orbs, his low murmur caressed the fine hairs at your nape in a way that made you shiver.

"That's it...go nice and slow with a deft touch," he rumbled in that raspy timbre that never failed to send tingles shooting straight to your core.

Heart pounding, you risked a sidelong glance to find his pale eyes already locked on yours, glittering with an intensity that contrasted sharply with his deceptively neutral expression. A charged moment stretched between you as that underlying spark you'd been determinedly ignoring flared, sudden and molten. 

Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust, Harry blinked and cleared his throat brusquely. "Carry on, then," he instructed in his normal crisp tone before turning away to focus on another component. 

You stood motionless for several heartbeats, fingers clenched around the spoon, skin flushed and tingling in equal measures of arousal and disbelief. Did that really just happen or had the endless hours in the kitchen started affecting your mind?

Too skittish to ponder it further, you dove back into your tasks with even more single-minded focus, the uneasy moment shelved and locked away tight. No matter what fleeting tension arose in isolated pockets, you couldn't afford to unpack it right now - not with the enormity of what was at stake.

The days ticked down in a relentless march until finally, you and Harry stood in the solitude of his spartan office the night before the big event, taking a breather from your marathon final prep session.

An ungodly number of mise en place containers filled every available surface, each holding fussed-over components of the highly elaborate and conceptual dish that would make its debut tomorrow. Harry had pushed you both to your physical and creative limits, drilling the execution repeatedly until he was satisfied you could plate it flawlessly under the anticipated scrutiny.

Now, having quality-checked and prepped every last possible element, there was nothing further to do except rest up and bring your sharpest mental game tomorrow. Harry seemed to deflate slightly as the backdrop of mounting pressure decreased for the first time in weeks.

Propping his hip against the desk with studied nonchalance, he quirked one eyebrow in a sidelong glance. "You ready for this?"

Despite your weariness, you felt that familiar thrill of adrenaline stir at those simple words - as well as a contradictory quiver of nerves. This event was a make-or-break opportunity of the highest magnitude, especially for someone like you just starting out. Either you nailed your responsibilities tomorrow, or it all came crashing down in front of Chicago's most elite gourmands.

Shoving aside the sudden flutters of doubt, you met Harry's inscrutable gaze head-on, straightening your spine. "You know I am. We've put in the work, and this dish is gonna blow them all away."

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his sculpted mouth as he studied you appraisingly. "That's what I like to hear. Just remember - all the technique practice in the world won't mean a thing if you panic out there."

The subtle warning made you bristle defensively, never one to back down from a challenge. "I'm not going to panic," you scoffed. "I eat massive amounts of public pressure like this for breakfast."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement, and not for the first time, it struck you how effortlessly he could switch between imposing and playful. "Is that so?" he drawled easily. "In that case, would you care to make things a bit more interesting?"

Before you could respond, Harry kicked off from the desk in one sinuous motion to prowl closer. Despite your weariness, you felt your heart rate kick up several notches as he invaded your personal space, long body coiled with a loose, predatory grace.

"Let's say we raise the stakes a little," he proposed in a tone of studied nonchalance that was completely belied by the heated glint in his eyes boring into yours. "If you can prove you've got the chops to keep a cool head under fire tomorrow, I'll take you out afterwards to celebrate. Just you and me, anywhere you want to go."

Your mouth went instantly dry at the implications behind his offer. Were those...the unmistakable undertones of flirtation coloring his invitation? After the weeks of him keeping things strictly professional between you, the sudden shift was dizzying - and left you dangerously intrigued.

"And what if I choke?" you heard yourself countering recklessly before you could reconsider. "What do you get out of it then?"

His answering smile was pure blistering sin. "Oh, sweetheart. If that happens...I get to take you out too - but somewhere a bit more private."

Harry paused to let the suggestive proposition linger, backing it up with a slow, heated raking of his pale eyes over your body that left zero doubt as to his implication. Heat bloomed furiously across your cheeks as forbidden images flooded your mind unbidden - flashes of tangled limbs, straining muscle, sweaty exertion of a far different sort...

Then, just like that, the provoking spell was broken. Rocking back on his heels, Harry shrugged one broad shoulder in an easy, dismissive gesture. "But that's not going to happen, is it? You've got all the skills, you've put in the time - no reason to buckle tomorrow."

He threw one final weighted glance in your direction before pivoting on his heel towards the door. "Get some rest. I'll see you at the venue early to do our final walkthrough before we get this show on the road."

And with that parting comment, Harry strode casually out, leaving you rooted there in dumbfounded silence. What the hell had just happened? One moment, you'd merely been steeling yourselves for tomorrow's high stakes challenge - and then suddenly he was issuing some bizarrely flirtatious...proposition.

Or was that really what it was? As you stood there chasing replays of his words, his tone, his body language - the whole previous interaction kept taking on a slinkier, more salacious cast. Like maybe your presence of mind was slipping already, causing you to read into things that weren't really there.

No...no, you decided as you hefted your bag, determined to put it all out of your head for now. Harry was just his usual aggravating self, trying to rile you by dangling some imagined reward or punishment to keep you on your toes before the big event. This whole...suggestive semiflirtation thing was just the product of your own exhausted mind playing tricks.  

Firmly shoving aside all unsettling thoughts, you focused on the immediate challenge awaiting tomorrow. You would plate Harry's showpiece dish to absolute perfection, prove yourself under the brightest lights, and decisively seize this career-making opportunity. 

Everything else could be dealt with later.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[just-some-random-blogger]

i was reading your fics, and was reading one where daemon is going up against cregan a little bit. i got this idea, cregan giving the reader a direwolf puppy as a gift. daemon makes a snide comment about it and cregan just turns to him, telling him that your enjoying your new pet, and who knows, maybe one day cregan will give you puppies.

daemon seethes as cregan walks away, acting as if he didn't just imply he was gonna breed you.

Puppy Love

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Ever since you came of age, you became the jewel of the court and your father turned down proposal after proposal, knowing if the man didn't want your massive dowry, they wanted to claim and corrupt your beauty and kind nature. And the only reason why your father hasn't chewed up the all too friendly dragon prince, was because he was doing most of his job for him. And anyway, your father knew you were too kind to think his attentions to you were anything more than friendly.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, 'too kind' reader, jealous!daemon, smitten!cregan, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: first of all, i have written quite a few fics were I've added cregan as uh an opponent for daemon so HAHHAH im not sure which one you mean, though I have an inkling it's Wish I Was Her (this is not a p2 of this btw) second of all, /: cregan dumb for giving away a direwolf to some rando dafaq. third of all, i really want do a take on a 'traditionally feminine reader' since i normally dont do that lol so im tryna make reader fit the period more, without making her a damsel in distress. wish me luck Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

You straighten the brown paper in one hand while you fiddle with the wax seal that was on it moments ago. You snort through your nostrils, beaming at the ink on the the letter, eager to both reach the end of the page, and not wanting the words to end at all.

Daemon, who had been walking with purpose, forgets where he was going along the way when he spots you. You, the giggling lady, sat comfortably on the stone blocks that separated the garden and the hall.

The prince's stoic demeanor melts into an expression similar to yours when you smile at what you were reading. What were you reading? A letter? A letter from-

Quickly, the realization of what kind of letters a lady such as yourself would be receiving that would cause you to giggle like that makes his expression splat into annoyance.

With twice as much purpose, he struts over to you and calls out your name. You immediately avert your gaze, smile widening at the sight of him.

Good.

"My prince," you speak, bowing your head just as Daemon reaches you.

Daemon raises his brows and drops his lips, eyeing the paper in your hand, "a good read?"

You release a chuckle at the expression he pulls, "a very good read. I say Alaric is as good with the quill as he," you point to the paper, "harks to me how good he is with the blade."

He grunts, "Alaric." Where has he heard that tatty name before?

You chuckle as you watch Daemon stiffen. He places his hands behind him, slowly walking to the other side of the block you were sat on, sitting there across you, "which moronic suitor is he again?"

You drop your letter on your lap, tilting your head at the fuming prince, who now had his arms crossed. "Alaric," you start with a chuckle, "is my darling cousin, Anna's, son."

Ahh, Daemon blinks, that's why his name is familiar.

You snort, "he has merely just turned ten and one, your grace."

He clears his throat.

"Do you not recall rejecting my offer to attend the boy's nameday?" you speak through an amused grin.

"I've never cared for namedays," he trails off, crossing his arms.

You laugh. He turns to you because of it. How could he not when your laugh was like that? Your being beams in amusement, glowing like a star. It makes the prince emit a soft chuckle.

"If I didn't know any better," you say in between catching your breath, "I'd you were jealous of a child, my prince."

You catch the small smile on Daemon's face as he pretends to be offended, "and I'd say you've been reading too much."

Very suddenly, you gasp and point at him, making him pull his head back and his expression drop. His concern drops when you say, "is that a blush I see? Ooh!"

Daemon's arms loosen at your words. As if eager to make your words true, he begins to feel his body burn. Damn body.

You gasp the second time before throwing your head back in laughter, "I do say," you sigh, "scarlet suits you well."

Daemon rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he stands from his spot.

"Well, I mean, it is one of the colors of your house."

"Yes," he drops his hands to the side and walks over to you, "and I should well ought to make it your own."

And though Daemon smirks when he says this, your brows furrow at the thought. His vanilla baby.

"It would be pointless to try and convince my father to change anything about our house."

He sighs as you refold your paper, trapping a waxen seal in its center, and move to stand next to him, "in our actual house, I had to argue with him to change our drapes."

"No," Daemon says in shock, as if he actually cared.

"Yes!" you shake your head, "it was terrible! I had to remind him that I was now the woman of the house."

"Oh, that does sound terrible," Daemon huffs, eyes widening. He watches you as you believe in his empathy. He watches as you smile at his disingenuous words. Two beasts rip at him from within.

Normally, naïveté and slow-wittedness were traits that repelled him, especially in its womanly form, as it was drawn from the sheltered nature ladies like yourself were bred into. The dragon in him found this dull and all too conforming. He liked the burn from the whores, who would snarl if you took more than what you paid for.

Yet this personal brand of innocent on you was dizzying to him. One beast wanted to protect the purity within you, while the other wanted to taint it until all remained was him.

"And yes-" you take a moment to continue, "those were my mother's beloved drapes but... they had not been changed since her passing."

Daemon presses his lips together when you turn to the ground with a solemn expression. He does not get a moment to share the semblance of comfort in which he was capable of, because you quickly smile at him the way you always do and comfort yourself, "it is good to remember those who have passed, but they would not want for us to mourn them too long."

For once, he responds with honesty, "they would not, no."

The moment you smile at his words, your attention is taken from the prince.

You are called by a servant, who tells you there is a man waiting for you in the main hall. You courteously thank the servant and turn to Daemon, "thank you for ke-"

"I will escort you to your visitor," Daemon smiles, though not a real one.

You return a genuine one nevertheless, "I am grateful, but I do not wish to bother you, nor take up more of the time you already so graciously offered me."

Daemon takes your hand and pulls you near him with little regard, "you dare dictate what I do and do not with my time?"

You press your lips as you body collides with him.

"As though you were my wife?"

You clench your jaw, unintending to overstep, "my prince, I did not mean for it-"

"Yes, well," he cuts you off, "let us meet this moron who wishes to meet you."

"You know," you smile, "it may well not be a suitor."

Daemon chuckles, "I'm surprised you even caught onto that."

"Well, how could I not?" you chuckle, "when you were just jealous a child!"

He loses his smug expression. He scoffs into a chuckle as you laugh at him. "Oh very good," Daemon rolls his eyes and slowly claps his hand, "I'll give you credit. I did not expect that."

But what he very much did expect was that your audience was sought by a suitor; one large, slobbering dog of a suitor.

Very truly, Daemon's grumbling was merited, for why were you so enamored by the wolf-man and this overgrown rat-pup he bought with him?

He scoffs as you coo at the furry creature for the hundredth time, and for what? For doing absolutely nothing but expose its incompetence to walk in a fucking straight line?

And what's more, for every time the degenerate baby wolf toppled over, you tugged at its master's arm and pointed, leaning into him as you laughed and expressed jovial sentiments over the creature.

The prince rolls his eyes from the armchair he was sat on.

What was so impressive about a dog? There were dozens of strays outside the walls. He could get you twenty right now. A dragon egg should have elicited such a response from you, not this.

"Oh, dear Cregan-"

Gods, dear Cregan, she says.

"-your pup is a ray of sunshine on this chilly day," you speak.

Daemon watches you smile angelically at the large man with muddy dark hair and wiry curls. He watches as the cretin bares his teeth at you like a wolf does its prey, and you mistake it for genuinely, as always.

"If you are cold, my lady," Cregan says, removing the brown pelt on his shoulders, "then allow me to warm you."

Daemon straightens where he was slouched.

You recoil at Cregan's generosity, raising your hands as you shake them, "oh, my lord, I could not possibly accept the clothes on your back."

You watch as Cregan's rosy cheeks pull up with his smile, "then would you prefer I give you one your own?"

Cregan put on his fur again. You open your mouth to speak, but it is Daemon's voice that sounds, "she would rather you fuck off back to the North, dog."

You still at Daemon's words, promptly turning to him with a hardened expression of disbelief, "my prince-"

"And you best take your defective animal with you," he adds, grimacing at the wolf-pup chewing at a ball of wound fabric.

"Prince Daemon," you call tersely.

Daemon turns to you, expression unable to melt with the presence of that oaf on your side.

"Please do not speak for me as though your sentiments and mine own are one and the same," you calmly say.

Daemon scoffs. Cregan chuckles.

You turn to Cregan with a guilty expression, "I apologize on the behalf of ill-contrived words against you, Lord Cregan."

"No, you don't," Daemon quips as he stands, "don't fucking-"

"I appreciate your sentiment, my lady," Cregan ignores the whimpers of the lizard prince, "though you needn't worry yourself, for I am not wounded by words from the likes of him."

"The likes of me?" Daemon sneers as he storms over.

You turn to Daemon, suddenly at your side. Your eyes widen at the fury on his features. You hands instinctively come to his arm when he appears as though he is about to lunge at Cregan.

Cregan watches you do this, watches you calm the hot blooded fiend. Part of him burns in a shade green at your shared familiarity, but he is more amused by the fact you turn to him with a concerned look, nonverbally expressing your concerns that you, in fact, to not want him to pound your prince if he attempts anything. And so he laughs.

Cregan laughs and takes a step back, allowing you to step between them and push Daemon away in return.

Daemon's ire is fueled further, "what, you halfbreed?!"

You grunt as you turn back to Cregan, relieved he was smiling and not partaking in the hotheadedness the other man was.

"Did you fuck your wolf yourself to offer the pup to her?"

You recoil at the grotesque notion. You cannot stop yourself from calling out the prince's name in anger and bewilderment, "Daemon!"

Cregan laughs. It draws your attention. You sigh, "Cregan, I beg your par-"

"No!" Daemon barks, peering down at you, "he's come here on the intent of you bearing his pups, girl, and you'd so readily drop on your knees for him?!"

"He's brought one pup, Daemon!" you quip pulling away from him as you shake your head, "and I have no intentions of keeping the little wolf," you turn to Cregan, "for I have no such capabilities nor capacities to care for one!"

Daemon grinds his teeth. You heave.

Good enough.

The prince finds slight catharsis in your words. His anger does not fade however, because Cregan's grin is as wide as ever.

"Actually," Cregan raises his hands casually, "I have spoken to your father about the pup and he said he would accept it, for I am also giving you one of my servants as an aid."

The two men watch as you perk at the idea.

"Oh!," you gasp in disbelief, "so..." you break into a wide smile, "I can keep the wolf?!"

Cregan laughs as he nods, "and even better, you can name it."

Daemon is appalled by your next actions.

You run and throw yourself onto Cregan, sealing him into a hug for a moment before pulling back in realization your actions were most indecent.

Cregan however prevents you from pulling away too far, hands coming to your waist as he smiles down at you. He speaks with a lopsided grin, "I have been meaning to bring you the pup ever since we spoke about my pregnant wolf when you visited me in the North."

When you what?

"Will your dear Luna not mourn the loss of her puppy?"

LUNA?

Cregan chuckles, pulling his hands away from you, not because he wanted to, but because, between the two of them, he was currently the more amicable in your eyes, and he was not about to ruin that, "I assure you, she will fair fine, as she is preoccupied with three more at home."

You frown, stepping back from Cregan to turn to the pup, not at all seeing the twitching face of your prince, "still... I must not let him be forgotten by her mother and likewise."

Cregan smiles at the sentiment, "you have a kind heart, my lady," he takes your hand, "I would be glad to bring my wolves to your home whenever you want."

You are horrified by the notion, "oh please, it would be much better if I came to you."

Cregan nods, lips in a smirk, "I shall await then."

You seemed to be caught off-guard by the fact you unwittingly just made plans with the Stark.

And you had meant to explain you could not simply agree to his offer, but you were distracted by the string of High Valyrian being spewed into the air, paired by the loud sound of the prince marching out of the room.

[futurewdclandonorris]

Hello darling I have Lando x fem!reader’s request✨🥹

Sooo I HAVE THIS “You must need to be fast on track, but you can’t get me so fast” ON MY MIND

So the reader and Lando are pretty close and very touchy, she works for McLaren, maybe as a lawyer idk; so they spent some time together, especially in UK, but she always goes to Monaco. ANYWAY during a party (maybe after one of his podium) he gets very close to her, always a hand on her back, and at some he trying to express his feelings for her, idk he would do something very clingy soo she stopped him and said *that*.

So that night they come back together to his hotel room, kissing each other, but they finished cuddling. Because he wants to do the things seriously.

I'M BAAAACK!!! Don't know for how long tho, I had this sitting in my drafts for two weeks and felt like editing while Lando's stream played in the background. I thought I'd get so much more writing done once the winter break begins, but it looks like apparently I'm on a break too cause no matter how much I want to get things done, my brain is just like nope keep watching that show until the guilt of all the requests eats you away. So, my apologies to this anon for waiting for months and all the others that have sent requests, I'm not ignoring you, I'm just going through some difficult time currently, but hopefully it will get better soon. Not really satisfied with this, if I'm being honest, but really liked the idea which required a lot of research and banging my head against the wall to make it all work and fit, and really wanted to get it done. So I hope you enjoy! :) ♥

Trackside Temptations | Lando Norris⁴

The atmosphere in Silverstone was electric during the peak of racing season, filled with the aroma of success and bubbly champagne. Lando Norris, rising star in the world of Formula One, had just secured a spot on the podium, his heartbeat echoing in sync with the joyful cheers of the crowd, and was eager to join his team at the luxurious after party to celebrate their victory.

Navigating through the throngs of people, Lando couldn't ignore the rush of excitement mingled with a hint of anxiety. Though he prided himself on his unwavering confidence and determination behind the wheel, there was one individual in the room who could effortlessly rattle him – y/n, a sharp-witted lawyer whose support had been vital to Lando's success in his career.

As Lando made his way over to you, he couldn't help but feel the butterflies in his stomach begin to flutter. He had always admired you from afar, but tonight, he was determined to make a move.

You were dressed in a stunning red dress, your hair cascading in loose waves around your shoulders. You looked up as he approached, and he couldn't help but feel a jolt of electricity shoot through his body at the sight of your eyes.

"Congratulations, Lando!" you said, opening your arms for a hug. "You were incredible out there today."

Lando felt his heart skip a beat as he pulled you into a tight embrace, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume and feeling the softness of your body pressed against his.

"Thanks, y/n," he said. "I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for always being there for me." he pulled back, his hands lingering on your arms.

"Of course, Lando. It's been an honor to support you through this journey." your voice was warm and sincere, and your smile reached your eyes, making them crinkle at the corners.

"Come on, let's join the others," Lando said, gesturing towards the rest of your team who were celebrating nearby.

You smiled and took Lando's hand, feeling a thrill run through your body at the touch of his skin against yours. As you made your way over to the group, Lando kept his hand firmly in yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent show of possession.

The British Grand Prix after party was in full swing, and amidst the cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses, Lando and you found yourselves standing by a makeshift stage, watching your colleagues perform an impromptu karaoke session. The sight of your usually serious team members belting out pop classics with reckless abandon brought a smile to both your faces.

"Never thought I'd see the day when our chief engineer would sing Spice Girls," you remarked, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Neither did I," Lando replied, chuckling. "I bet they'll never live this down."

As you shared a laugh, Lando felt grateful for the easy camaraderie he had with you. You could always find something to laugh about, even in the most stressful situations. It was a testament to the trust you had built over the years, and it only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

"Seriously though, y/n," Lando said, his tone shifting to one of sincerity. "I just wanted to extend my gratitude again for everything you've done for me. You've been a true ally, both on and off the track."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at the heartfelt praise, but you brushed it off with a playful grin. "Well, someone has to keep you in line, Lando. You're lucky I'm so good at it."

"Indeed, I am," Lando agreed, smiling warmly. "But truly, your guidance and support have made all the difference in my career. I can't imagine where I'd be without you."

"Probably still driving go-karts," you teased, eliciting another laugh from Lando. Despite your jest, you appreciated the sentiment behind his words. Your bond was special, and it wasn't something either of you took for granted.

"Hey, don't knock go-karts," Lando retorted, feigning offense. "They're where it all began, after all."

"True," you conceded, your smile softening. "But we both know you were destined for much greater things, Lando. And I'm proud to have been a part of your journey."

"Thank you, y/n," Lando said, his voice warm and sincere. "Here's to many more victories together."

"Cheers to that," you replied, clinking your glass against his.

As the night progressed and the party continued, Lando found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Every time you laughed, his heart skipped a beat. Every time you touched him, he felt a jolt of electricity course through his veins.

The music pulsed through the air, a rhythmic heartbeat that fueled the euphoria rippling through the crowd. McLaren team members and fellow racers moved with infectious energy, their laughter and conversation melding into an intoxicating symphony. Amidst it all, Lando and you swayed in unison to the beat, your eyes locked and smiles mirroring each other's elation.

"Hey, champ," called out a familiar voice, momentarily tearing Lando's gaze away from you. It was Carlos Sainz, a fellow racer and close friend, passing by with a wide grin. "Fantastic race today! You really showed them who's boss."

"Thanks, Carlos," Lando replied, his chest swelling with pride. "Couldn't have done it without everyone's support."

"Especially mine, right?" you chimed in playfully, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Of course!" Carlos exclaimed, laughing. "You're the true mastermind behind this achievement!"

As Carlos continued on, Lando gave you a knowing look, warmth radiating between you. You both knew the truth in the jest – that you had been instrumental in bringing him to this point.

"Shall we dance?" Lando asked, extending his hand with a cheeky grin. You nodded, accepting the invitation as you danced like no one was watching. The room around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you amidst the swirl of colors and sounds.

You found yourselves gravitating towards each other, your bodies moving in perfect sync as you danced to the pulsing beat of the music. Lando couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as he watched you move. There was something about the way you moved – confident and sensual, yet somehow innocent at the same time – that made his heart race.

"I can't believe I'm dancing with you," he said, his voice low and intimate.

"Why not?" you replied, your smile teasing. "I'm just a lawyer, remember?"

He shook his head, his eyes darkening. "You're so much more than that, y/n. You're the reason I'm here, the reason I'm successful. You're the one who's always had my back, even when things were tough."

"And you're the reason I have a job," you teased, but there was a flicker of something more serious in your eyes. "You've made my work here worthwhile, Lando. You've given me purpose."

Lando's eyes searched yours, and he saw the truth in them. You weren't just colleagues or friends – there was something deeper between you both, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for years.

"Congratulations again, Lando," murmured a team member as he passed, patting him on the back and interrupting the moment between you. "You've made us all proud."

"Seriously, man, you were on fire today!" another added, clapping Lando's shoulder enthusiastically.

"Thank you, guys," Lando responded, his voice filled with gratitude. As he looked at you, he couldn't help but feel that part of it belonged to you as well.

"Can I just say," you began, your voice barely audible over the thumping music, leaning in and resting your arms on his shoulders "how incredibly proud I am of you?"

Lando's eyes flickered with a hint of surprise and pleasure, his heart racing as he gazed into your eyes. The dim lighting of the party accentuated the curve of your lips and the sparkle in your eyes, making him feel like he was gazing upon a work of art.

"Thank you, y/n," he said, his voice hoarse.

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, Lando knew that he had to have you. He didn't care about the risks or the consequences – he needed you more than anything.

The attraction between the two of you had always been undeniable, but up until now, Lando had resisted the urge to act on it. He had been so focused on his career and his goals that he had never allowed himself to explore the possibility of something more with you.

But as the night wore on and the champagne flowed freely, Lando found his resolve slipping. When he saw you dancing with one of the other drivers, a pang of jealousy burned in his chest. He wanted to be the one holding you close, he wanted to be the one making you laugh, he wanted to be the one kissing you senseless.

Without thinking, he made his way towards you, his heart racing with anticipation. As soon as he was close enough, he slid his arm around your waist and pulled you near, swaying in time with the music.

"Come with me," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

Your eyes widened, but you didn't protest. You simply followed him as he led you away from the crowded dance floor and onto the terrace.

Once outside, Lando pulled you closer to him, letting his fingers caress your cheek as he looked into your eyes. His expression was a mixture of emotion - desire, longing and something more that neither of you could put into words.

"Remember when we first met?" Lando asked, his gaze fixed on you. "I was just some rookie driver signing a contract, and you were this intimidating lawyer."

You chuckled, recalling the memory fondly. "You've come a long way since then."

"And so have you," Lando replied, glancing over at you. "Your legal support has been invaluable, you know," Lando continued, his voice filled with gratitude. "All those contracts and negotiations... I couldn't do it without you."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for," you responded, a hint of pride in your tone. As a top-notch lawyer, you had played a significant role in helping Lando navigate the world of Formula One. From ironing out sponsorship deals to ensuring his rights were protected, you had been a force to be reckoned with.

"Sometimes I think about how different things would be if we hadn't crossed paths," Lando mused, his thoughts drifting. "I'm grateful every day that I have you by my side, both professionally and personally."

"Me too," you agreed, your gaze softening. You reached out, gently squeezing his hand in a show of solidarity. "We make a great team, Lando. But you didn't bring me out here to talk about contracts and negotiations," you said, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in closer to him. "What did you bring me out here for, Lando?"

Lando's breath hitched as he felt your hot breath against his neck. "No," he admitted. "I was... I just... I saw you dancing with George and I just couldn't stand there and watch any longer."

You grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over you. You had known for a long time that Lando had harbored feelings for you, but you had never expected him to act on them so boldly. "Is that so?"

Lando nodded, his eyes darkening with desire as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. "I want you, y/n," he said, his voice low and intimate. "I've wanted you for a long time, but I've been too scared to say anything. But tonight... I just can't resist anymore."

Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your chest. You had never seen Lando like this before. The way his eyes bore into yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, it was all so intense. And you wanted him too, more than anything.

Without another word, Lando cupped your face with his hands and lowered his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, but it quickly escalated. His tongue swept into your mouth, exploring every inch, and you moaned into the kiss.

The terrace was dimly lit, but it felt like you were the only two people in the world. Lando's hands roamed over your body, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss. You could feel him pressing against you, and you couldn't help but grind against him.

"Lando," you gasped when the kiss finally broke, your lips swollen from the heat of it.

"Come back to my room with me," he murmured against your lips as he nipped at them. "I want to show you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me."

"Woah there, champ," you said, pulling back slightly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's take this slow."

"How slow?" Lando asked, his voice a bit impatient.

"I know you're used to fast things," you said, a coy smile playing on your lips, "and you must need to be fast on track, but you can't get me so fast."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Lando began, your words slapping him back to reality.

"I'm just teasing," you said, placing a finger on his lips to silence him. "I know you didn't. And I'm not ready for that either, yet. But I want you to know I feel the same way about us." you whispered, tiptoeing to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "I just want to take this slow."

"I know, y/n," Lando replied, his voice deep and rumbly. "I want to take it slow too."

"Alright," you said  finally. "Let's go back inside. We can head back to your room after everyone goes home..."

Lando's grin widened. "Are you sure you don't want to go now? It's pretty late."

"I'd love to," you said, titling your head and looking up at him through your eyelashes. "But I want to give everyone a chance to congratulate you first." You giggled, looping your arm around his. "Then we can go back to your place and... celebrate."

"I like the sound of that," Lando said, pulling you in close and placing a lingering kiss against your lips. "Come on," Lando said, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the heart of the festivities.

You allowed yourself to be swept up in the excitement, unable to suppress the grin spreading across your face. As you weaved through the jubilant crowd, the warmth of Lando's hand in yours was like an anchor, keeping you grounded amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

"Oi! Norris!" a voice called out, cutting through the noise. "That was some race you had today! You've got to teach me your tricks!"

"Maybe next time, mate," Lando laughed, giving the fellow racer a friendly pat on the back before continuing on.

"Hey, y/n," another voice chimed in, one of your colleagues from the McLaren team. "You're doing a fantastic job with all the legal stuff. Keep it up!"

"Thanks," you replied, a blush creeping up her neck. "I'm just doing my part for the team."

As you reached the center of the celebration, Lando pulled you into a spontaneous twirl, eliciting a delighted giggle from you.

"Are you having fun?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Definitely!" you felt a warmth spreading through your chest. That moment, the joy of victory and the intoxicating atmosphere, was something you knew you'd cherish forever.

"Good," Lando said softly, his gaze never leaving her eyes. "You deserve it, y/n."

Finally, everyone said their goodbyes and the two of you were left alone in the open air. The night sky was alight with stars, and the city below twinkled in the distance. Without a word, the two of you made your way to Lando's hotel room. He opened the door and stepped inside, pulling you with him. As soon as he closed the door, his hands were around your waist and he pulled you into a tight embrace.

You both sank down onto his bed without breaking contact. Lando enveloped you in his arms as he kissed your neck and shoulders hungrily. You felt so safe in his embrace, as if nothing else mattered in that moment but him holding you close. The intensity of it all was overwhelming, but comforting at the same time.

"Can you believe it?" Lando asked, his breath hot on your skin. "All those years, all that work, and here we are."

You looked up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "It's been quite a journey, hasn't it?"

"Definitely," Lando agreed, his eyes reflecting the pride he felt.

The two of you entwined in each other's arms until the early morning hours, savoring every moment together. His kisses sent shivers down your spine and his hands explored every inch of your body hungrily. Every touch was tender but passionate, as if he wanted to show you how much he cared for you. He cuddled up against you, whispering sweet words of affection into your ear.

It was clear that Lando wanted more than just physical pleasure from this encounter, and you felt the same way about him. You both wanted something real and lasting--something that went beyond the heat of the moment.

[parvulous-writings]

Oooh, I have a request idea!! How about Gale, Halsin, Astarion and Wyll or Karlach (if that's not too many ;-;) with a modern S/O from our world that makes them try a bunch of food from this dimension. I'd love to see their reaction to trying Soda or other Carbonated Beverages, and naturally seeing everyone's reaction to canned food - especially the kind that stays in the exact shape of the can even after you dump it into a bowl 🤣

Just imagine giving them this bad boy and being like "Bon appetit!" :D

I like to think they'd be horrified 🥰 Thank you so much !!

Summary: I do love me a little whimsical AU, I can't lie - so this MAY go into the realms of silly, but you know what? It's going to be fun! It also may be a bit all over the place... but you know what I think it fits XD The scenario is kinda the same for all of them - I hope that's okay!

Warnings: Some are a bit shorter/longer than others! Other than that... I don't think there's anything!

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Gale

Out of everyone, Gale would probably be the most at-ease with you coming from another realm - he finds it absolutely fascinating.

He's asking questions all the time - is there magic in your universe? No?? What do you do, then??

You tell him about technology, and he is hooked. You start talking about electricity and immediately he's taking notes (mental or physical).

"I think I might actually have something you can try, Gale" you pull out of your pack a can of Coke (that somehow had survived the trip), and a tin of cranberry sauce that you had hoped to take home, before being whisked away to the land of Faerun. You offer him the can, and he just stares at it for a moment, observing it.

"And... what is this, exactly?" "It's a drink." "I fail to see how-" click "... Ah"

Isn't sure how the bubbles feel on his tongue - he almost spits out the drink the first mouthful he has. Doesn't mind the taste itself though - he would probably drink it flat, if he had the choice to.

"It's... Nice..." He seems mildly uncertain of this statement. "Though, I think I will stick to wine, and water..."

You telling him you can preserve food in metal near indefinitely? Pure 'teach me' moment. He will want to know EVERY secret on that front.

The tin of sauce confuses him. You tell him that it's sauce and he's eager to taste it - he's always on the look out for new flavours, as the self-declared cook in camp. Fish and potatoes can only keep you going for so long, until your tongue starts craving a new flavour.

When you present the unchanging... thing to him, he has no idea what to make of it. "That's... Not sauce. In fact, I don't even think that's edible - that looks like a health hazard."

He straight up refuses to use it that night, like he will not go near it, nor will he let it near the food.

Halsin

Halsin doesn't really talk about you being from another realm all that much - it doesn't overly concern him, now that you've got his trust.

He likes hearing stories of your life -even though you have to explain 90% of what you talk about to him, he's always eagerly listening to whatever you have to say.

Will not touch anything in a can - drink or otherwise.

"I... Do not feel right in trying this... my apologies."

You will not be able to convince him, whatever you try and do, he just... Doesn't want to listen to anything about that. If you keep trying to push him on the subject, he'll probably end up just walking away.

Though he's aware that preserving foods is probably a good idea for the long run, but after having heard the fizz from the can of coke? That's... A no go, for the time being.

Astarion

Astarion couldn't care less where you came from - so long as you're not going to stab him in the back, he's fine with you. You could be a crawling claw for all he cares - so long as you don't hurt him he really does not care.

Astarion doesn't typically eat anything other than his usual sanguine meals now that his affliction is out in the camp. This doesn't stop him from making snide comments on the food, though. And he makes especially snide comments when it comes to drinks - which he still partakes in quite happily.

"What do you mean... Fizzy?" His lips draw up slightly in a half-sneer, not being particularly drawn to the idea of... Whatever it was you were offering him. Though, he supposed, because it was you... He'd give it a go.

He manages to keep the beverage in his mouth after a sip, but the face he makes is beyond a grimace - clearly, he was not expecting that many bubbles.

Now when it came to the tinned sauce - or any tinned food for that matter... He'll simply laugh. "Now, I know we're short on supplies, darling, but... I don't think you'll get anyone to eat that." "Let me put it this way... If something like that was for my meal, I'd be running for the hills! ... And probably washing my mouth out with soap..."

"I am so glad I do not have to pretend I'm eating with you... Because that-" He points emphatically to the can-shaped food. "Would not, and will not, be going anywhere near my lips!"

Wyll

Wyll is curious about the realm you come from, but doesn't normally pry. He figures that, if you're going to reveal anything about your home land, you'll do it in your own time, when you're comfortable. If you start talking about your home and your life, Wyll will do the same, to show that he's not taking the conversation for granted.

Wyll actually LIKES carbonated beverages. He savours the feel on his tongue - it's like nothing else he's ever had before, and he's instantly wanting more. If you ever do figure out the realm-hopping thing, you'll have to bring him some more - possibly some different brands or flavours for him to try.

"So... These beverages... They can... Taste of flowers, and other delightful things?" Wyll hums pleasantly at this thought. "Well, I know we have... Similar things, here in Faerun, but I am most intrigued on your realms' flavours... As pleasant as it all can be, you can only handle so much of the same..."

Though canned food doesn't.... Really seem appealing to him, he'll still give it a good try! He's down to try any food at least once.

He's not keen on the appearance of the cranberry sauce, but he has some with some turkey you've roasted, and he's in love with the taste. Sure, the appearance could use some work, but beggars can't always be choosers - at least it tasted delicious!

Absolutely LOVES tinned vegetables. He's not sure why - he knows they've got a very different taste and texture to their fresher counterpart, but... There's just something about them that he can't get enough of. Tinned carrots especially.

If you give him the chance - and Gale for once isn't trying to make dinner - Wyll will try and find a way to include tinned foods. He will get everyone to like them, he's certain of it.

Karlach

Karlach LOVES hearing anything and everything about your home realm - from the mundane to the even mundane-r. You have a special tub to bathe in, not made from wood? And it has running water, like a river, that you can control?? That's one of the coolest things Karlach has heard of - and she longs for a way to try and bring that kind of plumbing to Faerun.

Karlach isn't fussed on the Coke can you offer her - she'll drink it, for sure, but if there's the option of another drink, then she'll probably opt for that first. Purely for the reason that it's a relatively new sensation compared to the other kinds of fizzy found in drinks across Faerun.

Like, fermentation has a kick, but in comparison, carbonation is a roar, that Karlach needs a little adjusting to - she has the best reaction out of the lot of them, I think.

"Whoo- that's... Hah, that's something, soldier... And how often do you drink this? Once a day? ... Several? Several cans of this a day?" She laughs quietly, shaking her head. "You're braver than me at some things, soldier."

However, when it comes to tinned food... She loves it. She's not even sure why - perhaps it's just the fact that she loves food. You show her the sauce first, and she doesn't even bat an eye at the fact that the sauce had retained the shape of the can. She sniffs at it, before just picking it up and taking a bite.

"A little sharp... But not bad!" Another bite. "You're meant to eat that with meat, Karlach," "Huh? .... Ah, well - still tastes good like this!"

She's not as fond of tinned veggies, but she'll still eat them. Normally dinner will now start with. "Aw, what? Don't we have anymore of that red stuff?"

[callsign-dexter]

My Brother's Wingman 18+

Request: Ok... I debated with myself, but... I'm gonna be a selfish bitch now and some idea in as a Bday present for me (even if its still coming on friday) and I hope you dont mind <3 

So I'd have MAJOR Rooster feels, you cant imagine! Thats why I thought about something with him, where she's Jake's sister and they have some kind of secret affair, as Bradley is slightly scared of what would happen if Jake finds out. Soo they sneak around for some time until one day you're both at Mavs hangar working on a plane (while he's gone with Penny and let's you over) and you get really turned on by Bradley being sweaty and covered in dirt, soo you somehow end up sleeping there together but later Jake comes there as he was looking for Bradley and catches you both, so you have to explain everything and Bradley fears the worst. Luckily Jakes cant do much against true love and finds his peace with it ? 

Omg does that makes sense? I'm also so so sorry it's gotten so long :O

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Seresin!Navy SEAL!Reader, Jake Seresin x Navy SEAL!Twin Sister!Reader

Warnings: fluff, smut

A/N: Happy belated birthday to the anon that sent this in and I'm sorry that it is late. I hope you enjoy! Also @talesofreading and @imagine-all-the-fandoms prepare yourselves it gets steamy!

Jake Seresin had a twin sister, you, that was almost a female version of him but could bring him down back to earth when he got too high and mighty. You both knew how to push each other’s buttons and you both did it out of love even if it seemed like you both were harsh to each other. You were a Navy SEAL and loved it, you really thought about becoming a pilot like your brother but you loved being on the ground more and plus you got to deal with guns and more combat.

You had been stationed at Naval Amphibious Base, in Coronado which was only 28 minutes away from where your brother was stationed now. Occasionally you would go down and visit him and go to a bar called The Hard Deck and have a few drinks with him and his new squad and you liked them all but one in particular caught your eye. When you saw him, he always had a Hawaiian shirt on with a white shirt underneath and form fitting jeans that hugged him everywhere and in all the right places, he also had this mustache that you could only imagine all the pleasure that it could bring you. It seemed like you had caught his eye too because he had been looking at you nonstop and you would only know this because you had been looking at him nonstop as well and throwing your signature Seresin smirk his way.

——————————————————————

You had just arrived at The Hard Deck after your brother practically begged you to come and you finally broke down and said yes. You had just gotten back from a deployment and were more than eager to blow off some steam. You walked into the bar and looked around to find it filled with civilians, aviators, and tag chasers. You hadn’t come in your uniform because you didn’t want to be in it any longer even though you absolutely loved being in it but not at this moment. You immediately saw the blond haired, cocky, and full of himself aviator that was your brother. You walked over to him and pulled the pool stick from his grasp and took the shot yourself and sunk the ball and you smirked as you came up. “Hello, sister.” He said and you turned around to him.

“Why hello there, little brother.” You said he rolled his eyes.

“By one minute.” He said but pulled you in a hug and then you pulled away and looked at everyone who was silent and stunned.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce your sister to us, Hangman?” A guy a Hawaiian shirt and a mustache said and when you said that he looked good, he really looked good enough that you wanted to pull him inside the bathroom and do him right then and there. He had yet taken his eyes off you and you and you didn’t mind at all.

“Rooster this is my twin sister-“ Jake began

“Older sister.” You said smirking and looking at him for a second and then your eyes were back on Bradley and again he rolled his eyes.

“By one minute. As I was saying this is my twin sister, Y/N ‘Bullseye’ Seresin. She’s a Navy SEAL and off limits to anyone.” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“Well Y/N it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Bradley Bradshaw.” Bradley said and sent a smirk of his own. Everyone went around and introduced him themselves with their names and their callsigns. You also learned that he was your brother’s wingman.

“Bullseye. How did you get that name?” Bob asked and you smiled at him.

“It’s because I never miss my target that I’m aiming at.” You said and Bradley could’ve sworn he was falling more in love and that his jeans were becoming a little tight. “I’m gonna get something to drink. Anybody want anything?” You asked and they nodded and told you what they wanted as you were walking up to the bar Bradley stopped you by the wrist.

“I’ll help you.” He said and when you looked over to your brother, he had this look on his face but you just smirked and dismissed it and headed to the bar with Bradley. You arrived there and Bradley flagged down what looked like to be the owner. She walked over and smiled.

“I haven’t seen you around before. I’m Penny.” She said and smiled a sweet smile that reminded you of a mother.

“I’m Y/N Seresin I’m visiting my brother.” You said and smiled and she nodded letting you know that she knew him.

“Ahhh so you’re her. He’s told us a lot about you.” She said

“All good things. I hope.” You said and she nodded.

“What can I get you two?” She asked

“Another round for the group and whatever she is having.” He pointed to you.

“I’ll take what my idiotic brother is having and put it on his tab.” You said and she nodded and chuckled and got to work.

“So how long have you been a SEAL?” He asked you and you turned to look at him.

“For as long as Jake has been an aviator. We went into the academy together and then we split paths but still stayed in touch with each other.” You said and he nodded

“Have you always wanted to be in the Navy SEAL?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yea I have. Mostly to get under my parent’s skin but it really spoke to me.” You said and he nodded and about that time Penny came back with the drinks and then you walked back over to the group and they took their drinks. The rest of the night was filled with drinking and getting to know each other and getting the chance to knock Jake down a peg and embarrass the shit out of him which you did with a smirk. After the embarrass the shit of your brother came to an end and everyone went to their other activities you slipped outside to grab some fresh air and look out over the ocean. You weren’t out there long when you felt someone slide up next to you. You turned and looked at the person and saw that it was Bradley and you smiled.

“Needed a break?” He asked and you nodded

“Yea, it was getting a little hot in there.” You told him you both looked at each other for a minute and then you both were leaning in until your lips touched and the sparks flew. You pulled away when air was needed.

“I really like you.” He said and you smirked.

“I really like you too.” You said and then you both leaned back in and the rest was history.

——————————————————————

You and Bradley had been dating for 3 years and somehow managed to keep it a secret from your brother, and that was amazing because you were either there in San Diego on the weekends and would visit your brother or Bradley was at your place in Coronado. It had been your weekend to stay over at Bradley’s, he told you that he was going to be staying at Maverick’s, you had met him during your time visiting your brother and now boyfriend and you both really hit it off, hangar so he could work on a plane that he and Bradley had started to restore. You and Bradley have agreed to meet at his home and then he would drive to the hanger in his Bronco and grab some food on the way there. You both had just arrived at the hangar and after some making out you both got out and headed into the building it was late when you got there so you both figured you would eat and then he would work on the plane while you watched.

The next morning you both slept in but not for long because of your guys’ internal alarm clock and you both were up and heading out of the trailer. Bradley made you breakfast and as you both at cuddled up to each other you both enjoyed the comfort of each other. “Have you thought about telling my brother?” You asked him as you both had finished eating and you put your plates on the table in front of you.

“I’ve thought about it but scared about his reaction.” He said and you nodded “You?” He asked.

“I thought about it but I like keeping it a secret. He knows I’m seeing someone but he doesn’t know who and it’s driving him insane and I love it.” You said looking up at him and chuckled.

“I have to admit it is fun. He also knows I’m seeing someone but doesn’t know who.” He said and you chuckled. You both talked for a little bit and then you sat back and watched him work the plane and looked at the pictures and other things around the hangar. Every now and then you would look over and watch the muscles in Bradley’s back flex and it was slowly turning you on. He would occasionally turn around and look at you and you could see the dirt and grease smeared across his forehead and the sweat that was covering his forehead. You bit your lip as he turned back around and continued to work. You pressed your thighs together just thinking about him taking you right then and there all sweaty. It wasn’t long until you couldn’t take it anymore and slowly made your way to him and slid your hands up his back feeling his muscles work and then around his waist. He stopped what he was doing and turned his head where you captured his lips into a fiery passionate kiss, he brought his arms down and turned around dropping the tool he had in his hand neither of you caring. He brought his hands to your waist and slowly backed you up until you hit the shelf.

You looped your finger through his belt loops and tugged him closer enough to feel his erection through his form fitting jeans. He licked your bottom lip and you opened your mouth and his tongue slid into your mouth and your tongues battled for dominance until his won. You only pulled away when air was needed. Bradley’s pupils were blown with lust to the point where his irises weren’t visible. “You’re so sexy.” You said and that seemed to do something within him because he was attacking your neck in and you allowed him access he sucked and bit to the point you knew there was going to be hickeys. He trailed his hands down to the back of your thighs and patted them lightly signaling you to jump and you did so. This wasn’t the first time you both had sex together and each time you did so it felt like the first time and it was always so fiery and passionate but rough at the same time and you loved it and so did he.

Bradley walked towards the trailer and blindly opened it and then walked to the bed and then gently threw you onto you which made you squeal but then he climbed up and attacked your neck again which made you moan. “Bradley.” You moaned out and he slightly rubbed his clothed erection on your clothed core and you moaned again. He let up and smirked and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I love it when you moan my name.” He said and then he was quick to shed his clothing and then he helped you get rid of yours until both were naked in front of reach other “Absolutely beautiful.” He said and your thighs clenched together around nothing. He brought his hand up to your soaked core and ran a finger up and down your folds “So wet for me.” He said and you nodded and moaned.

“You’re the only one.” You said and moaned when he slipped a finger in and rubbed your clit at the same time. Once he felt like you were ready, he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss of contact. You didn’t have to wait long until you felt him slide his erect cock up and down and then you both moaned as he slid into you. Your hands went his shoulders and dug your blunt nails into his shoulder blades as he set a slow and steady space. He put all of his weight on his elbows and continued a slow and stead pace. “Faster.” You moaned out and he did as you asked and picked up his pace.

“So tight. Always so tight when I fuck into you.” He said and moaned out he hit all right places and knew exactly where to hit to find your g-spot and when he did you felt the rubber band in your stomach tighten.

“Bradley, so close.” You said and he nodded.

“Hang on baby.” He said as he picked up his pace he started to sweat more and you had started to sweat as well. His thrusting was starting to get sloppy. “I’m close, baby. Cum with me.” He said and then he changed his angle to thrust deeper in you and that what made you come undone and you came hard as he came painting your walls white. He stayed put catching his breath while you caught yours. He slowly slid out of you and then laid beside you.

“That was perfect. Just like all the other times.” You said and turned your head to him and kissed him.

“You’re perfect.” He spoke. Both of you laid there for a few minutes and cuddled until your stomach growled and you both laughed. “I’ll go and get some dinner started.” He said and you nodded and laid there basking in the after sex high. Once you felt like you could walk you got up and put on your jeans and his shirt. You joined him and watched him cook and when he was done, he handed you your plate and then he sat down beside you on the couch that Maverick put in not that long ago and you both ate dinner and then headed to bed. Bradley closed the hangar up making sure everything was secure and pulled The Bronco inside. The both of you headed inside of the trailer and headed to bed.

The next morning you woke up after Bradley and your hand went to his side but you felt it was empty but still warm this confused you but you didn’t have a long time to be confused because you heard what sounded like your brother’s voice.

“Hey, Rooster! Maverick told me you were going to be here.” The voice said

“What’s up?” Bradley asked

“I needed the plans for the new Top Gun class that’s coming in on Monday.” He said

“Yea, they’re in The Bronco. I was gonna work on them this weekend but got distracted.” He said and they both headed to the car and that is when you decided to make your presence known. You got up and luckily was still dressed and walked out of the trailer.

“Jake?” You asked and he turned around not expecting someone else to be there as you walked closer to him.

“Y/N/N?” He asked and then Bradley turned around wide eyed. “What are you doing here?” He asked and you didn’t speak but then he turned to Bradley and he had a look of a deer caught in headlights. Jake went back and forth from you to him and then he took in your clothing. “Is that Bradshaw’s shirt?” He asked and again he got no answer.

“Jake.” You began “We can explain.” You said and he nodded and then you looked at Bradley and walked over to him and stood next to him and Jake turned to look at you both. “We’ve been together for 3 years. We both had fallen in love with each other 3 years ago when I met you down at The Hard Deck.” You said expecting him to be mad and lash out as you leaned into Bradley and he put an arm around you but he didn’t.

“I’m not mad.” He said and you made a face of shock and so did Bradley.

“You’re not?” You asked and he shook his head.

“No. I’m surprised you kept it a secret this long but I can’t be mad at true love.” He said and both you and Bradley sighed in relief “Besides I had my suspicions especially since Rooster kept disappearing every other weekend up close to your base and when you came down here to supposedly see me.” He said with a smirk “I’m happy for the both of you and I’m happy it was Rooster that you had fallen in love with.” He said.

“That means so much to us.” Bradley said and you nodded.

“Now those plans.” Jake said and Bradley nodded and grabbed them and the three of you headed over to the table and couch and you sat quietly thinking as they worked. You smiled watching the two people you love work together and get along, any other boyfriend would’ve only lasted a week around Jake but he was just being protective of his twin sister. You were just happy to finally have someone that loved you just as equally and maybe a little bit more than your brother. You knew everything was going to be fine and nothing in the world could split you apart from the two men you loved and held so close to your heart.

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[cambion-companion]

matey. I have this cute soft idea if you're interested in writing it ofc. basically fem reader where she's a lady of noble blood and knows aemond since they were kids. but there was always this awkwardness around them which slowly turned into disgust (lol bish why you lying, why you always lying) one day she's with helaena or lady friends and they ask her who she would marry from court if she had to choose which she replies with "I would marry aemond in a heartbeat" forgetting that she said that out loud with aemond overhearing it somewhere hiding behind a pillar or something lol. and the next day she keeps questioning herself why aemond is suddenly wearing his nice clothes, helping her with something? and then when she wants to bid him goodnight he replies with a sneaky "I would marry you too in a heartbeat" which ends with her all flustered or something lol. idk what this is honestly, It just popped into my head.

Hi dearest! I'd love to write a lil something based on this lovely prompt!

Aemond x reader | fluff | Aemond being as discreet as a car backfiring

Laughter surrounded you, the ladies you sat with in the fragrant gardens tittering to each other, blushes upon their dimpled cheeks. You set aside your book of Old Valyrian poems and leaned in conspiratorially. "Okay Rosaline, your turn. Who would you marry?"

Rosaline, a lovely curvy girl around your age with russet curls and a freckled face, laughed harder. "I cannot say, lady Y/N. Though lord Jason Lannister is rather easy on the eyes is he not?"

You shrugged. "If you go for that sort of pomposity, I suppose."

"Well, who do you fancy, Y/N?" Rosaline asked, huffing at you with slightly narrowed brown eyes.

You hesitated, all eyes now upon you, growing more curious with each second of silence.

"Well? Now you have to tell us!" A girl with straight brown hair piped up, her doe eyes mischievous. "You were so eager to hear our own secrets!"

"I...I've always. Well. Prince Aemond if you must know." Your fingers clasped together upon your lap, so tight your knuckles went white.

There was a beat of stunned silence, then the girls lapsed into another fit of giggles.

"Prince Aemond?" Rosaline choked.

"Haven't you been friends since you were children?"

"I thought they went for their siblings?"

"He doesn't have an eye, Y/N! How could you possibly think he's a suitable match?"

"Excuse me." You said rather flatly. "When any of you ride the largest dragon in Westeros, then you can talk."

"He is rather easy on the eyes." A Tyrell girl spoke in a thin voice. "Though I've heard rumors circulating he is rather callous and keeps to himself."

"He's not callous." You defended. "Though we do have our disagreements."

"Oh yes!" Rosaline tittered again. You fought the urge to smack her. "I've heard you two have been at odds the past few weeks. Lover's quarrel?"

"I-we are not-where did you hear...you know what it doesn't matter." You rose abruptly, forgetting the book beside you on the bench. "Aemond alone is worth a hundred times more than all of you put together. I would marry him in a heartbeat."

"What's under that horrid eyepatch he wears?" A sneering Lannister lady sniggered.

"Something far more interesting than what's under your garish skirts!" You shot back, a shocked silence following your impetuous outburst.

You cast one last scorching look over the gathered women, before gathering your dress and taking your leave of them, face burning.

You retired to your chambers, skipping the dinner feast, not wishing to see those girls again that day. You were still fuming. It was true, you and Aemond had not spoken since a heated argument a few weeks prior. However, this was not the first time you two had been at odds. Nor would it be the last, you reckoned.

A soft knock at your door roused you from your contemplation beside the fire. You rose from the sofa, crossing the carpeted floor and swinging the heavy oak door open to reveal Aemond standing in the doorway.

"Oh!" You said, too surprised to come up with anything witty.

"Walk with me?" Aemond held out his arm for you to take. His hair looked like it was freshly brushed, shining silver in the torchlight as he guided you down the hall into a deserted courtyard.

The evening air was alive with birdsong, the sky above a shock of orange and red as the sun made its western descent.

"I came to apologize." Aemond said as the two of you meandered out into the gardens you had spent your afternoon in.

"Apologize? You? Be still my heart!"

"Don't make me regret it, Y/N." The prince groaned, releasing your arm and turning to you, the vista of the city's red roofs and the sparkling sea framed behind him. "I behaved...rather appallingly and I regret not coming to you sooner."

"You were a bit of an ass, tis true." You smiled impishly at the way he fought down a grimace at your words.

"As if you were any better."

"I was right." You folded your arms across your chest.

Aemond clasped his hands tightly behind his straight back. "It is a matter of opinion whether Dorne is more progressive than us."

"No, Aemond. I'm afraid that's a fact."

Aemond breathed hard through his nostrils; you watched with interest as he collected himself. "I came to apologize not to argue further."

He opened his jacket and pulled out a small box from a pocket within. "And to give you this as a sign of my...remorse."

You squinted at him. "Did your mother tell you to say that?"

Aemond didn't answer, his brow raising at you as he gestured for you to take his gift. You lifted the box from his palm, undoing the string and opening it. A silver brooch lay within, bearing the insignia of your house. Small finely crafted letters spelled out your house words below the image.

"It's quite lovely, my prince." Your face softened as you took it out and fasted the piece to your bodice. "I will wear it with pride. Thank you."

Aemond graced you with a genuine smile, his eye lingering upon the pin now secured above your heart. You tracked his gaze with interest as it roved across your curves before snapping guiltily back up to your face.

"See something you like?" You teased, flashing a grin at him.

Aemond didn't answer, though he held your gaze as you stepped closer, noting how the breath caught in his throat at your sudden proximity. Your brow furrowed as you looked at the odd expression on his face, nothing you had seen there before.

"Are you well, Aemond?"

"No." Aemond shook his head. "Let us continue our walk."

The two of you walked side by side around the gardens, the deepening twilight enveloping you, stars unveiling one by one in the dusky sky. Your knuckles brushed against Aemond's, you extended your pinky, hooking it around his. Heat rose to your face as Aemond's fingers slid to tangle with your own, your hands intertwined as you strode along the path back to the Keep.

He did not break his grip on you, even as you stood again before your chamber door.

"This is where I bid you a good night, Y/N." He spoke softly.

"Yes, it is." You sounded breathless, not pulling away as he turned to face you directly, leaning down as he brushed his lips to the back of your hand.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Aemond?"

"I would also marry you in a heartbeat."

You stopped breathing. He had overheard the whole exchange in the gardens. Blood rushed in your ears as, wide eyed, you watched as Aemond lingered long enough to take in your expression before he turned on a booted heel and strode down the hallway.

Gathering your wits once more, you shouted after him just as he reached the corner. "Aemond!" He halted, looking back at you with ill-concealed amusement. "Get back here or so help me..." You pointed to the ground in front of your door.

"We can continue this discussion tomorr-"

"No. No, you don't get to say something like that and just walk away." You hissed, leaving your chamber open as you stomped down the hallway to where he stood waiting, his lilac eye sparkling with delight.

Aemond took your forearms in his hands when you reached for him, pulling you in so quickly you stumbled, falling against his chest. "You overheard me today?" You asked, looking up at his angular face as his fingers traced your jaw.

"Mmm. I did indeed. You're quite the sight in your anger." His eye glittered. "Even more enchanting when it's on my behalf."

"They were wrong to say such things." You breathed, your voice only a whisper as the distance between your faces slowly closed.

"I rest easy knowing I have a champion in you, to defend my honor." Aemond chuckled, his breath tickling your lips.

You weren't sure who moved first, or if it was simultaneous, but you felt the press of his mouth against yours, your eyes fluttering closed as your hands buried themselves in his silken hair.

He moved against you, backing you up until you hit the wall, a gasp at the impact opening your mouth to him as he began exploring you with his slick tongue. The scent of him surrounding you, the feel of him caging you in, pressing his knee between your thighs, drew a soft whimper from your lips that he drank down with relish.

"Do that again." He murmured, tugging your hair until you exposed your throat to his touches.

"Make me." You smirked at the arched ceiling, quickly losing what little composure you had won back as he took your challenge to heart.

Aemond made you emit many more sounds of pleasure throughout the course of that night. Stifling your cries with his large hand at one point so as to not alert any nearby guard patrols. With the promises of a lifetime together to come he claimed you as his own, swearing in return to be yours until his dying day.

[tboybuck]

112 “i’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time.” for the writing prompt? steddie or any other ship you get inspiration for :)

112. “i’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time.”

it had taken months -- months -- for eddie to convince steve to join a session of hellfire with him and the kids, but tonight was the night and eddie was pulling out all the stops. it was maybe a little bit selfish of him to do it this way, but fuck, man it was halloween. he had to.

back in july, they started making steve's character. human. barbarian. absolute fucking tank of a dude. he had an awesome backstory that would fit well with the one shot eddie had planned for halloween. in august, eddie floated the idea to the party that they should all dress up as their characters for halloween and was met with resounding approval. everyone was planning to go all out.

which was what brought them here.

eddie's leg was bouncing. he was feeling impatient. he did his best to act nonchalant, sitting on steve's bed with a magazine and a can of beer as he waited for steve to finish getting dressed.

eddie'd been able to procure most of steve's costume from the drama department at the school through a few sneaky sources he still had there. the costume was going to be completely impractical, not all conducive to fighting hoards of monsters and zombies, but oh eddie was going to enjoy it anyway.

eddie thought of the leather wrist cuffs he'd scored; they'd cover steve's forearms almost to his elbows if he could get them on properly. he thought of the gladiator sandals with the complicated lacing that he wasn't wholly convinced steve would be able to manage on his own. he thought of the... the fucking loincloth. eddie still couldn't believe he'd managed to convince steve to wear a goddamned loincloth what the fuck.

eddie heard the bathroom door open and tried his absolute best not to look too eager. when steve walked into the room, eddie just about choked on his tongue.

"holy fuck."

"i look ridiculous."

"that's... not the word i would use."

"sure."

"well. maybe a little ridiculous, but! i've never seen somebody look so cute and ridiculous at the same time."

"cute? that's the word you would use?"

no. the word eddie wanted to use, he couldn't say. because they were friends. buddies. bros. and what guy wanted to hear his buddy say "goddamn, i'd like to lift that loincloth and suck you off so good you see stars"? probably not steve.

"you look very cute, stevie. that loincloth..."

makes your thighs look extra biteable. makes your cock look massive. makes me wanna get fucked raw before the kids get here.

but then steve smirked at eddie, and flexed his thighs a little bit, and he tugged at the leather wrist cuffs as he approached eddie to stand in the vee of his thighs, so close that eddie could feel the heat of his skin.

"you gonna be able to keep it together the whole time the kids are here?"

no, eddie was not going to be able to keep it together the whole time the kids were here.

steve backed off, just a little bit, and leaned down to catch eddie's gaze.

"happy halloween, munson. if you let me win tonight, maybe i'll let you get a closer look at the loincloth."

eddie didn't know how to tell steve that he couldn't just let him win dungeons and dragons, that that's not how it worked, that he wasn't in control of the dice or the other players or... damn.

steve turned then, and eddie was able to get an eyeful of steve's asscheeks in that fucking loincloth.

eddie was gonna have to figure out a way to let steve win at dungeons and dragons, apparently.

help me beat my writing slump

[82mitsu]

{18Trip} The Homescreen Voice Lines Vault

Collection of all the voice lines I have translated on my Twitter account. Uploading it on here for archival purposes.

Note: A lot of them were made to fit the Twitter character limit, sometimes they're a bit freestyled.

Mostly Raito oriented, with some others thrown in the mix.

Chihiro: Raiting, you spend a lot of time watching vids, don'tcha~ What channels got you hooked?

Raito: Let me see, channels all about information over ramen and the occult stuff like Muu☆Tan's are vital to me.

Raito: Kuguri, you can do what you want but, have you considered to stop sleeping naked from time to time? No doubt you'll catch a cold.

Kuguri: I'd prefer for you to leave me be. A certain Someone who can't properly wake up in the morning has no right to police others on how they sleep.

Raito: According to this scripture of taboos that I procured on my own, it appears that Pandora's Box will open up again soon. The theory of hope remaining at the bottom is plausible but, let's just wait and see...

Akuta: Uugh... I can't... I can't go on like this anymore.... Raito-san, please do the usual thing again tonight!!

Raito: A hopeless guy, aren't you... Got it, I'll take care of you. I will... feed you the best late night ramen that there is.

Netaro: Raito~! Trouble's afoot! There's hearsay of a unfamiliar flickering luminant body appearing behind the dormitory~!

Raito: What!? An unidentified flying object, in other words!? We must unravel its true identity! Let's go right away, Netaro!

Kuguri: Sometimes Nanaki looks at me cutely and pleads for advice on composing music. Well, my involvement is limited to hearing him out and giving a nudge, however.

Kuguri: I don't disagree with your way of living, Ten... It smells sweet, exclusively so. How about we go on a drive together again sometime.

Ten: Aha, it's an honor to get invited by someone like Kuguri-san~ I don't mind the kinda relations where you stay outta each others affairs either.

Chihiro: Geez~! Taotao, you play Anigun way too much! Didn't you like promise you'd go shopping with Chii today! And here I sat looking forward to it~!

Tao: Sorry. To think there'd be an event out of nowhere... I'll buy you some pudding as apology. So let's go shopping. Okay?

Akuta: Like, during flower viewing... adults do /that/, right... Y'know... the thing... s- s- s- strip rock paper scissors....!

"yakyuuken" is a Japanese game on based rock paper scissors, where the loser ends up stripping.

Akuta: Ten-san, I heard you talking to a woman on the phone earlier, but is she for real... wrapped around your finger!? Like both hands all over a beaut and...!

Ten: Aha, the hell man. Don't slander me. She's just a plain ol' friend. Maybe you're still too young for this though~?

Akuta: That freakin' Kiroku, he put a kinda bracelet that girls would wear in his desk. Ah, wonder if he's like also doing the do with her...

Ushio: Oi Stupidtake, record what I make all you want but don't snatch food while i'm not looking. You itching to get banned or something?

Akuta: Geh... got caught, huh... I regret my actions! Please spare me from being exiled! Oh great god from heavens above Ushio-samaaa~!

Nanaki: Kugunii, come over whenever you feel like it again. I'm sure Dad, Mom and Big Bro all are eager to see you.

Kuguri: Perhaps so. ...I'll go if the mood strikes me.

Nanaki: Spring is the season of encounters, huh... I already have crossed paths with my G.O.A.T though.

GOAT: Gen Z slang, means "Greatest Of All Time".

Ushio: Listen Murakumo-san, I know you're fooling around, but can you please refrain from putting any weird ideas into the younger guys' heads?

Ten: Oh-hoh~ look at you sounding all cool there. Dunno what you mean with "weird ideas" though.

Ushio: ....I curse the freaking guy who dared to use my shampoo without permission to go bald from losing 10 hairs every second...!

Ryui: Toi, your hair's sticking out. Here, sit still. I'll fix it to make it pretty.

Toi: Wah... Thank you dearest Big Bro. My beloved Big Bro really is the coolest in the whole wide world... My heart's skipping a beat...

Toi: A mature seductiveness like Yodaka-san's... How can i end up having that too? I'm jealous, you see.

Yodaka: Fufu, but Toi. Don't you have your own kind of charm that I lack. I admit I'm also envious on that front.

[tsunael]

wolcred week |  3. 'need / want.'

Never in his five years of being had he seen Norvrandt's commonfolk in such high spirits. How that woman still had energy for merry-making after everything they've been through, he couldn't know.

She was a fascinating spectacle: one moment she was showing off her footwork he recognized as distinctively Lominsan, and then she was floating across the floor, tangled tightly in a foxtrot with a Eulmoran come to join in the festivities.

Ryne couldn't seem to take her eyes off them, hands clapping along to the rhythm of the jaunty tune being played across the way. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was eager to join in-- a better time for a girl her age than to be clinging to his side, no doubt.

She cheered along with the gathering crowd as Tsuna and her partner finished their round, and it was only moments until the next number started up.

He supposed she danced to console her heart.

If she stopped dancing-- stopped moving-- even if for a second, the despair would seep its way in through the cracks. She would exhaust herself until there was nothing left. She needed this.

"It's so wonderful to see everyone so spirited," Ryne giggled with a joy that did not cease to swell his heart. "I never knew she could dance like that... did you?"

He had been silent for far too long, he realized with a rueful smile-- too focused on not watching the feast in front of him, try as he may to dodge the furtive glances Tsuna would throw over her shoulder.

He hummed, looking into his tankard, thoughtful.

"Not quite like this," he snorted. "At this rate we'll have to carry her home."

He looked up at the opportune time as Tsuna began a daring pirouette. For a moment they met eyes, and in the next motion her arm extended to the two of them-- her fingers beckoning.

He chuffed a laugh, looking away again.

An unsteady click of heels from his periphery meant that the object of his affections would not be denied.

Tsuna came to them, out of breath and sweating a fine sheen. She fell into his arms, thoroughly drunk on mirth and spirits.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were ignoring me," she teased. She was right. "Dance with me."

Ryne's mouth fell open, silently enthused with the idea.

He cast her a pointed look, the corner of his mouth twitching with a touch of frustration as he had to peel her from his chest. "Now there's a Hell I would not suffer," he huffed a laugh, and Tsuna fell into a girlish pout that did not suit her. "I believe there's enough biting at the bit to have your hand already."

Her lips quirked in an impish smile as she reeled herself back in. The look she gave beneath her thick lashes was meant to entice. "At least buy me a drink?"

He was much too sober for this-- and in the company of Ryne, no less.

His brow raised. "I think you've had quite enough," he said, firm.

Tsuna held his gaze a moment too long before sighing dramatically.

Drink motivated her to suddenly pull Ryne in by the shoulders, hugging her possessively, despite the girl's embarrassment. "Then I shall have no choice but to steal. Your. Date." She declared. "He's so boorish, isn't he? No fun at all."

"I-- Well, I suppose a bit--" Ryne stammered, looking torn between loyalties, and obvious want.

He wasn't sure whether to be irritated or amused, but resettled himself against the bar all the same. Had Ryne seemed more opposed to the idea, he may have felt the need to step in, however...

"Just..." He held his breath, and exhaled with a sudden, deep sense of regret. "Go easy on her, won't you?"

Tsuna burst into a fit of laughter, hugging the girl until she squeaked-- her horns nearly poking something vital in her fervour. Clearly, she would not be heeding his warning. "Come on, the next one is about to start--"

And then the girl was dragged off.

And then he was alone.

He looked at his empty tankard and frowned. He had thought to sworn it off. It was used far one-too-many times as a crutch, but perhaps he would drink-- for old time's sake-- to join in the merriment. Just a singular ale to start, he figured.

That was, until Urianger curled his lanky-self around and reminded him-- in excruciating detail-- of where a flagon so often led him in the past. Out spilled a veritable list of his drunken conquests-- a familiar name only barely escaped the roster before he loudly begged mercy.

It would be water for the night, then. Water.

[mammalsofaction]

Hi I wanted to ask you about a fanfic idea? You don’t have to answer this but I have a couple ideas and I’ve been to busy to really put it to use.

You know in the movie into the 2nd dimension where Perry’s able to hold up 2 kids, 1 teen, and a fully grown evil scientist. I thought of the idea of what would happen if his host family saw that or if he got a bit to rough with Dr d during a fight.

You might have already had this idea or have even already done it but i thought it would be a fun short fic or something.

Early Days

Rating: G

Relationships: Bg Lawrence Fletcher/Linda Flynn-Fletcher

Characters: Linda Flynn-Fletcher, Lawrence Fletcher, Perry the Platypus, Heinz Doofenshmirtz mentioned, Flynn Fletcher siblings mentioned

Add tags: Non graphic depiction of violence, non graphic depiction of injuries, family feels, light angst, PnF S1 Hail Doofania, human Perry the Platypus, mute Perry the Platypus

A/N: This takes place in the early days of Perry and Heinz's nemesis ship. In the episode Hail Doofania in S1, Perry spends almost the entire episode wearing a protective collar. His flashback shows us that Heinz pushed him down a sandpaper making factory that tore up the fur on his body, making Linda suspect he's scratching himself up due to some sort of rash.

In the human!Perry version, I take this further to mean that he's wearing some sort of neck brace, meaning that Heinz had--at some point early in their relationship--had hurt him quite bad. I thought it's fitting to fulfil the ask. Perry still calls Heinz 'Doofenshmirtz'.

This fic mainly centres around Perry's relationship with Linda and Lawrence, and how they worry for him. The boys are maybe 5 years old here, making Candace 10.

If you want to understand the reference to Ferb's mom, i recommend reading my human Perry lore post linked in my pinned post.

Im sorry this took so long @salty-frenchfry . Between life happening and my laptop going Ka-put, finding the time to properly address this ask took longer than I'd like. I never forgot it though! I hope this little short is ok 😭

---

In his line of work, injuries were unavoidable.

Often times, they were easy enough to hide. Bruises were most common. Perry's long since taken to keeping a spare set of make-up with a replenishable bottle of concealer on his person, whether that be the dash of his hovercar or the storage box beneath the seat of his scooter. And what the concealer couldn't hide, his sleeves and long trouser pants could.

He's good enough at what he does. That being said, sometimes Doofenshmirtz gets a lucky shot.

Linda stormed into his private ward like an avenging angel, and Lawrence trails behind her in a more sedate, nevertheless eager pace. The nurse, as well as a be-suited nameless OWCA insurance representative slips out silently to leave him to their harried concerns, though not before the former sends him a small smile for good luck. The married couple barely notices.

"What happened?" Linda demands. Lawrence makes himself at home in the bedside chair, letting his wife take charge of the mother henning for now. "The hospital told us you'd gotten involved in a car accident? Oh Perry, your handsome face." She cried, bottom lip wobbling, and if Perry didn't have his left hand in a cast and his body completely leaden with drugs, he would have reached out to reassure her. As it was, he could only attempt to do what he can with a strained smile.

He hadn't known, until this point, what excuse OWCA had given the Flynn Fletchers to obfuscate the circumstances surrounding the severity of his injuries, but he really should have guessed. OWCA loved car accidents. In truth, he'd lost his balance over the edge of a rooftop while fighting with Doofenshmirtz, and he'd somehow managed to push Perry over. Perry had fallen through a roof of a sandpaper making factory, down 20 feet onto some crates and toppling heavy machinery. He'd almost broken his neck, fractured his left wrist, dislocated his left knee joint (the side that had broken his fall) and his face looks like he'd gone 5 rounds with Mohammad Ali. Thankfully he'd found he'd managed to thwart Doofenshmirtz's scheme anyway (he'd thrown a shoe into the revealed gearwork of his Unpaved-Inator, a machine designed to revert paved walk lanes into unstable cobbled paths. As if Danville didn't suffer from enough sabotage in terms of accessible walkable infrastructure), so at the very least, it was not a complete failure. The paperwork would've been impossible, instead of just insufferable.

He'd been given a voice to text machine by his bedside by his functional hand, a small voice box in respect to his disability, and he uses it to lie in it's emotionless vaguely feminine robotic voice. "T-boned into a truck running a red light." He says. OWCA would take this lie and run with it later. "Thrown onto the road. Think it slipped."

Linda and Lawrence made appropriately sympathetic noises. When Perry lolled his head to the side, he realizes his brother-in-law looks far more haggard than he'd initially noticed; red rimmed eyes and a glassy smile. Stiff upper lip. Well. Ferb had gotten it from someone. "You'd scared the children out of their wits, Perry." He says quietly, likely to conceal the shaking in his voice. "They're waiting in the car as we speak. None of us had quite the appetite for dinner after we'd gotten the news."

The strained smile slips into a slightly more sincere, more painful smirk. "Just the kids?" Perry asked, and Lawrence barks in laughter that sounds far too similar to a sob.

He can't imagine what he sees, what it must've been for him to have gotten the news. OWCA had told him it was a car accident too, for Ferb's mother nearly 5 years ago to the dot, now.

He'd not even got to see the body, then.

His heart squeezes in guilt, an all too familiar ache. Lawrence had been through enough: the point of a stable nemesis ship was to avoid injuries of such a caliber. To provide stability, safety. Security. Perry didn't want Linda, didn't want the kids, to ever worry about whether he would come home, especially not with the line of work he tells them he's involved in.

A gentle knock on the door heralds a familiar face: a specialist Perry had seen once or twice walking down the corridors of OWCA's medical bay as an emergency field medic, sans the white fedora with a red band denoting his position within the organisation.

This time he was simply wearing a signature Doctor's lab coat, holding a clipboard and flanked by a pocky young adult in scrubs, buzzing with caffeine. "Flynn-Fletchers?" He requested gently. Linda makes an affirmative noise, and the duo welcomes themselves inside the ward with that familiar professional smile.

"He's got banged up pretty bad out there." The doctor offers in a vague, sympathetic manner. "Has he told you what happened?"

Perry thinks he sees Lawrence and Linda share an unreadable look. "A car accident." Lawrence echoes hesitantly. "With a truck?"

The unnamed doctor nods, writing something down on his clipboard, likely the cover story he would need to report back to Francis shortly. "The impact had broken his collar bones and given him a mild concussion." He reports. The pocky nurse at hands out a print of Perry's X-ray reports, and Perry watches the married couple analyse the given print like it was anything comprehensible. "He'd landed on his left side, fracturing his left wrist, up to the back of his ulna, so we're casting it for now. No surgery beyond the one we've done to his collarbones immediately upon his arrival to the AnE, which has already been covered by his work insurance."

This seems to surprise Linda. " As an accountant?"

The doctor doesn't even blink. "Seems like it. Good health insurance plan. We're assigning him to a couple more days in the hospital to watch over his condition, and about 2 months bedrest before he can go back to work. If everything goes smoothly, we can discharge him by the end of the week. Any questions?"

"Paid vacation?"

It's a question asked through the robotic monotone of Perry's given voicebox. The doctor gives Perry a secretive, sympathetic smile for the unspoken concerns he understands far too well. "I'm afraid you will have to ask your superiors. My influence remain within these walls, I'm afraid. But I'll put in a good word."

Perry sighs. It comes out weaselly and creaky, and Lawrence reaches forward to squeeze his uninjured shoulder in reassurance. "Thanks, doc." Perry says, because he wasn't an animal.

"My pleasure." He says, which must've been some sort of cue. The pocky nurse moves to exit, leaving them with the X-Ray prints, and holding the door open. "I'll let you get your rest, and you may refer to Consultation for any questions regarding visitation hours. We'll be able to greenlight him tomorrow."

Linda and Lawrence thank him, watching him leave before they redirect their attention back to Perry's prone form.

Linda has her lips pursed in displeasure. "Your boss doesn't really want you back so soon after your accident, would they?"

Perry sighs again. This time, the exhales brings his attention to his parched throat. "I can't say." He types into the voicebox. It's not the answer she was looking for, he can tell from the continued sour look of her face. Lawrence face becomes even more pained.

"Can you promise you won't be doing this again?" He requests, and while his throat and his guilt tears him from the inside out, Perry lets himself chuckle lightly.

"I can't help these things, Lawrence."

The silence that follows is heavy with things Perry feels they're both keeping from each other. Linda sits heavily in the chair next to her husband, and reaches out to squeeze his hand, hanging limply by the armrest. Lawrence looks him in the eye, pointedly silent, and he smiles something wane and unreadable.

"No," he says. "No, I don't suppose you can."

[josphitia]

Josie's Cow HRT Journey Part 1 - Discovery

I've been living as myself for 10 years. It's been hard, but I've achieved so much. I see a woman when I look in the mirror. There are aspects of myself I'm unhappy with, but who doesn't have that, right? So why did it feel like something's still missing?

I was just browsing my socials and I saw something that caught my eye, something that scratched an itch I didn't have words for. This girl was a freaking werewolf??? And more than that, it was from HRT??? I never really had a Tixter before but for this I had to make an account, I wanted to learn everything I could about this!

After that discovery, I was entranced for days by transition timelines. I saw people of all genders (or none!) posting their happiness and successes becoming the animals they truly were. Dragons, fish, mice, it seemed there was no end to the menagerie unfolding before my eyes. There were so many different creatures, but none really felt like “me.” Sure, having wings would be cool, and horns felt right, but I definitely wasn't a dragon. I love tigers but the idea of becoming an obligate carnivore scared me (although I would've rocked the stripes). The horses were sleek and gorgeous, and while hooves scratched this newfound itch, I just couldn't see myself as an equine.

Maybe I was just a happy ally? So excited to see people being able to be their authentic selves, but not a journey of my own? The thought of just leaving it at that, however, filled me with dread. I knew in my stomach this would be something I'd regret if I didn't pursue it. After all, wasn't that feeling of reticence proof enough I was on the right path? So on I scrolled.

It almost felt like some weird form of para-social shopping. Seeing a happy giraffe girl and thinking “could I be happy like that?” The animals though just never felt like they fit right for me. There were aspects I identified with, but never a whole package. It was like some weird riddle, which animal was just… myself?

Then I came across a random post and it was like everything clicked into place. It was a girl posting a comedic picture of herself trying to acclimate to her new diet: a salad of grass clippings. Underneath that picture was a hashtag that seemed to illuminate a corner of my brain used to darkness: #CowHRT. I was teary eyed, I had finally found who I was. It just felt right, it felt like *me*.

For the next few days it felt like every mystery of my being had an answer. Why did I always wear my sunglasses over my head? It was helping to relieve my dysphoria of not having horns. Why were shoes so hard to shop for and never fit quite right? I wasn't even supposed to be wearing them. Heck, I might’ve not even supposed to have toes! Even my diet seemed to fit into perfect place. I was already vegan for a number of years and loved nothing more than a nice bowl of leafy greens or broccoli. I wasn't going to become a cow, I already and always was one. I just needed help to see that bovine in the mirror.

By some stroke of luck it turned out a lot of the girls undergoing animal HRT lived in the same city as me, so I was able to find the doctor they were attending relatively easily. It seemed he had as many positive reviews as he did negative… But, surely he couldn't throw anything at me that I hadn't already dealt with. I've dealt with my fair share of awful therapists and doctors. I bookmarked his website, dreading the eventual phone call I would make. I was so eager, my head was already making plans for how my life would change and how I'd live life as my authentic self. There was just one thing I hadn't quite mentally tackled, something that should be easy but still filled me with anxiety…

How was I going to tell my husband?

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

Josie's Cow HRT Journey

First|Previous|Next

[grandeoatmilklatte]

HL Characters and their Horror Movie Tropes

+ a Horror movie character I think they're most similar to and their likelihood of survival!

I randomly got hit with this idea in my sleep, so now it's on my blog! Hopefully this hasn't been done before! Of course these are my opinions based on my stupid little brain, but feel free to nicely let me know your thoughts. Also, because this has to do with horror movies, there will of course be mentions of D34th, so please keep that in mind. And if I gave your favorite character a low chance of survival, know that I am truly sorry, but someone's gotta go in a Horror film!

Some spoilers will be present for some movies, so please be advised.

Ominis Gaunt:

Trope: Ominis is the resourceful friend. The one who's instantly trying to find a reasonable escape route. He's the one you want when you're trapped in an escape room. Ominis is determined to figure out who the killer is and TAKE THEM DOWN. Final Girl energy to the max. Not even his disability is stopping him.

Character: Erin - You're Next (2011) - Such an under rated Final Girl. Erin is resourceful, knows how to put up a fight, and she's got a rough background that helps her survive. No doubt that Ominis's ruthless upbringing as a Gaunt would come in handy when it comes to survival. He likely knows how to fight, and would get brutal if it came to saving himself and his friends. Erin uses her environment to her advantage, which I know Omi would. (i know there's debate as to whether or not Erin does live, but I'd like to believe she does!)

Likelihood of survival: 96%

Garreth Weasley:

Trope: Garreth is the comic relief friend. May or may not be helpful in terms of escaping, but at least he's good at keeping the group entertained while they're trying to escape the haunted house. He's eager to help and subdue the killer, although he may screw up sometimes. It’s really up to chance whether he’d live or not, which breaks my heart to say cause I love my baby boy Garreth, but I'm trying to be realistic. If he did die, his death would be the most devastating for the group and the audience because of how much of a loved character he was.

Character: I have two that fit Garreth fairly well! Dewey - Scream (1996) and Marty - Cabin in the Woods (2011). Dewey because like Garreth, Dewey is a lovable goofball, but can put up a fight when needed. He cares about his friends, is brave, and still survives despite taking some nasty hits, and I feel like Garreth could take a few hits without being fatally hurt. And then Marty because Marty is hilarious, like Garreth. We all know Garreth would be a stoner a modern day setting, like Marty, and despite Garreth's goofy nature, he isn't dumb by any means, like Marty (Marty is the one to first notice something is up). Plus, like Marty, Garreth is the secret hottie. Movie fun fact - in the scene where they all swim in the lake, Marty is the only one that doesn't take his shirt off and jump in because the actor was actually MORE RIPPED than Chris Hemsworth, and it would have ruined the illusion of Marty being the lanky stoner and Chris being the hot jock.

Likelihood of survival: 75%

Sebastian Sallow:

Trope: Sebastian would try to be the hero for sure (if he isn't the killer). He's eager to find the killer, especially if his lover is in danger. He'll protect them and the rest of the friend group as much as he can. He definitely has Final Girl energy as well, but is at super high risk of dying if he's not careful due to his eagerness to fight the killer off. If he's the killer, he would be the jealous, jilted, boyfriend type, the hot jock guy that you wouldn't suspect (or maybe you would). He's doing this because he was hurt and is getting revenge. His Final Girl will have a lot on her plate.

Character: For the hero role: Ash - The Evil Dead (1981) - Boys can be Final Girls too!! Ash kicks ass and looks hot doing it. He's determined to survive and stops at nothing to do so. For the killer role: Billy - (Scream 1996) - Hot jilted boyfriend. Billy is ruthless in his killing, but thankfully he has an awesome Final Girl to put him in his place.

Likelihood of survival: as a hero - 85%, as the killer - 40%

Imelda Reyes:

Trope: Imelda is the bitchy popular girl that you grow to love as the movie progresses. Sadly she will not survive, and she'd be another sad fan favorite death. She deserved to be a Final Girl with her confidence and attitude, but sadly survival was not in the cards. She did put up one hell of a fight though!

Character: Tatum - Scream (1996). Tatum is confident and tough, and absolutely deserved to be a Final Girl. Tatum even taunts Ghostface before he attacks her, which is totally something Imelda would do. She puts up one hell of a fight, but loses the fight eventually, we know Imelda is fiesty and would fight the killer to the bitter end. 

Likelihood of survival: 10%

Leander Prewitt:

Trope: Leander seems like the type to trust very easily, which means he would put way too much trust in the killer, and it might be his demise. As much as I love Leander, he would be easy to lure in. He would put up a fight, but it would be futile. He would at least have the opportunity to warn the others that there's a killer in their midst, giving the group a fighting chance. There's also a chance he could just get knocked out by the killer, the killer thinks he's dead, but he's not! (It hurts my heart to potentially kill him but not everyone can live in a Horror movie!) If you have a better trope idea please let me know cause I felt bad for him!

Character: Aaron - Creep (2014) - (Major spoilers incoming for this one and the sequel) Aaron should have left at the first sign of Joseph being weird, but he didn't. He stayed for far longer than he should have, and even when he DID ESCAPE, he still agreed to meet with him later, which led to his end. My hope is that Leander would be more like Sara - Creep 2 (2017). She also makes the mistake of trusting Joseph far too much, but she at least escapes and survives the film (although Joseph is definitely still looking for her. )

Likelihood of survival: 30%

Amit Thakkar:

Trope: The smart one!! The one who told the group not to touch the cursed object/not to go in the haunted house. Although he'd definitely be a scaredy cat, he'd be eager to find them a way out. Will likely not try to fight the killer though, and will just be focused on escaping. That is of course, if he even ends up in that situation in the first place. He’d be the type to not even follow the group to begin with, thus escaping the entire movie.

Character: Gavin - The Taking of Deborah Logan (2014) - As soon as Gavin realizes something's not right, HE LEAVES. He doesn't wait around for shit to hit the fan. He quits the documentary while everyone else fucks around and finds out. Thus, surviving the movie.

Likelihood of survival: 90%

Poppy Sweeting:

Trope: Poppy is a sweetheart! She’s friendly and cares about animals (beasts). She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Right? You ever meet someone that’s just too nice and you can tell there’s probably a darkness to her, waiting to be unleashed? Poppy seems like the perfect killer because of how unexpected it would be. Her bubbly personality is a perfect way to lure someone in before she attacks. We all know she doesn’t bat an eye to the use of unforgiveables on poachers. On the brightside, she isn’t that difficult to take down once you outsmart her. 

Character: (This is going to be an obscure one. If you know what movie this is, please let me know cause I want to be friends!!) Rebecca - Superhost (2021) - Superhost is an indie horror movie about a vlogging couple who vlog from Airbnbs. They stay at this one Airbnb owned by a Superhost named Rebecca. Rebecca is bubbly and sweet, but there’s just something off about her, and she gets progressively scarier as the movie progresses. Her character is adorable, sweet, but totally unhinged. If Poppy was into vacation homes instead of beasts, this would be her. 

Likelihood of survival: 50%

Natty Onai: 

Trope: Natty is a true Gryffindor. She’s brave and protective of her loved ones. She has the makings of a Final Girl, but her eagerness to fight back puts her in danger frequently, and she could possibly go as a result. She would need to scale back and not act on impulse if she wants to survive the film. 

Character: Helen - I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) - I know I just said Natty has Final Girl vibes, but there’s too many Final Girls on this list already, so for her I’m picking a girl who SHOULD have been a Final Girl, and definitely had the makings of one. Helen is badass, popular, and puts up a fight to stay alive. She would have been a much better Final Girl than Julie (Julie sucks!!). Helen’s death was lame, but heartbreaking. Another fan favorite unfairly taken away. Also, Helen’s actress is also miss Buffy FREAKING Summers, another badass lady who I feel like Natty would vibe well with.

Likelihood of survival: 40%

MC:

Character: MC is another character that could be either the hero or the killer. As the hero, they are determined to protect those they love, and fight the killer to the bitter end. They obviously have major plot armor. They might discover they have superpowers just when they're about to die, and they use the superpowers to fight off the killer, thus surviving the movie. As the killer, they would definitely be the type of killer who didn’t start off that way, and turned evil due to the things that were done to them.

Trope: As a hero - Sienna Shaw - Terrifier 2 (2022) - Why does she have super powers? Who knows? But she's cool and just when hope is lost, she's able to use her powers to protect her loved ones and defeat Art the Clown. As a killer - Jane Doe in The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2014) (major spoiler for the movie incoming!!!) she wasn’t inherently evil, but after being tortured and being accused of witchcraft, her corpse became evil, cursing anyone who dares touch her. She’s also super powerful considering she doesn’t move for most of the movie. This level of overpowered-ness is also a trait of our MC. 

Likelihood of survival: as a hero: 98%, as the killer: 98%

Bonus! Duncan Hobhouse LOL

Trope: Duncan would bring about the horror to begin with. He's the one accidentally reading from cursed books out loud, the one who's accidentally watching a cursed tape, and the one using the ouija board. He's not surviving. BYE. He'll be screaming the whole time, giving up the group's location to the killer constantly. The other characters will spend the rest of the movie hating him because he got them in this mess to begin with.

Character: Every person in the Evil Dead franchise that plays the recording that raises the deadites. You should never play mysterious records, especially ones you find in a creepy cabin or in a hole in the ground. 

Likelihood of survival: 2%

[washingtonmarvel]

Since my first post about Charmion only scratched the surface, I thought I'd give some more info about a few different aspects of her story here. I hope everyone finds it worth reading.

First, Charmion was a marketing genius. She was one of the most photographed people in show business, her flexed arms ubiquitous in the newspapers of the era, and she gave out free pinback buttons with her image on them at each show. Charmion herself reported in 1905 that she’d given out a quarter of a million buttons over the previous year. I don't know how accurate that number is, but there was definitely a huge number produced and you can often find them for pretty affordable prices on eBay to this day. Charmion would also sometimes give away chocolates, clothes, and other souvenirs to the women in the audience.

Second, during her travels, Charmion made time to personally advise women who needed help with their fitness goals. During her time in New Orleans in 1902, for example, she let it be known that the hours of 5 to 7 would be set aside for any woman wanting a “conference” with her to discuss matters relating to “physical culture.”

Third, Charmion could be considered one of the first female bodybuilders. Through rigorous workouts (including curling fifty-to-seventy-pound dumbbells and one-hour bag-punching sessions), Charmion intentionally tried to build her muscles as large as possible, which was incredibly rare for a woman in that era. Even circus strongwomen, who showed off their strength publicly, often downplayed their muscularity, but Charmion was eager to show off her muscles and actively tried to grow them. Apparently, it worked. By her own account, when she began her career the (already very fit) Charmion weighed 98 pounds at a height of 5’1”. She afterward gained enough muscle that by 1902, she was a solid 130 pounds. Charmion would’ve also felt at home with modern bodybuilders in the sense that on-stage posing was a major part of her performances. After she had finished disrobing on the trapeze, she would conclude her show by standing onstage and flexing her biceps before turning around and displaying her back muscles. The audiences were as flabbergasted as you’d expect. “When she hunches her back,” said one newspaper, “it looks like a cage of boa-constrictors interlaced in a snake-fight”; “her shoulders and arms appear a knotted mass of muscles,” said another.

The less pleasant aspects of Charmion's story are the misogyny and prudishness that Charmion dealt with with throughout her career. There were attempts (some successful, some not) to ban her act in New York, New Orleans, London, and Berlin, and she had to contend with right-wing attacks throughout her career. Here are a few newspaper quotations to show the kind of opposition she encountered:

Times Herald (Washington, D. C.), May 10, 1898: “Her performance is a simple attempt to provoke all the lower passions of which mankind is capable, without passing the limit the law has placed on such an exhibition. It is for this reason that Charmion is revoltingly disgusting, coarse and disagreeable. It is because of this that no man, who realizes what he is doing, or respects himself, will care to take his mother or sister to the National Theater this week.”

Sioux City Journal, May 15, 1898: “Charmion’s object in her trapeze act is indecency.”

The Times (Washington, D. C.), May 15, 1898: “It seems revolting to think that men would go to a place of amusement with the sole idea of witnessing such a performance, but that women should willingly accompany them is nothing less than disgusting.”

The Courier and Argus (Dundee, Scotland), Aug. 5, 1898: “…it is scarcely possible to conceal the fact that Charmion’s performance takes us very much nearer to the frank indecencies of the Parisian variety theatres than we have hitherto strayed.”

Daily Gleaner (Fredericton, New Brunswick), Oct. 26, 1898: “we hail with gratification the drastic criticism by a section of the New York press of such debasing performances as those first given by a woman called Charmion…Charmion’s act had grace and beauty to recommend it, and except that it was performed by a woman it was no worse than the undressing act of the equestriam [sic] acrobat in the circus; but it was the natural forerunner of the others, and so should never have been permitted in a theatre making pretence to decency.”

The Times, January 1, 1899: “Charmion’s ‘turn’ was revolting.”

Toronto Saturday Night, January 18, 1902 [speaking about Charmion disrobing on the trapeze] “There is an unpleasant suggestiveness inseparable from such an act.”

The Kansas City Star, September 19, 1904: “Her turn is offensive to modesty.”

As infuriating as these comments are, the happy irony of the conservative attacks on Charmion is that they only made her more powerful. As even her critics sometimes admitted, the controversy stirred up by those critics served to make her act more intriguing and helped increase her popularity. For a woman devoted to liberating women from the constraints placed on them by the society, her message must have been even more meaningful because so many men tried to constrain her and she overcame that adversity. You can see how little success her critics had by the fact she was one of the most popular vaudeville stars in the world, sometimes earning the equivalent of almost $20,000 per week in today’s money.

Of course, not all men disapproved of Charmion’s act, and she had her fair share of male fans. But almost all her critics were men. And though there must have been lesser-known female critics, there’s only one example I can find of a woman (at least initially) disapproving of her. That woman was Elizabeth Grannis, president of the Purity League, an organization that supported the kind of repression and prudishness that Charmion fought against her whole career. Grannis, with a committee of Purity League members, attended a performance one day in 1901 to “judge for themselves” whether the act was as “impure" as alleged. After the performance (during which Charmion daringly threw a garter into Grannis’s box), a local newspaper said, surprisingly, that Grannis “was pleased by the things done and undone by the actress” and “was delighted with the actress’ control of her muscular system.” Charmion, likely not a fan of the Purity League, was not mollified by the praise. Asked about Grannis later, she bluntly said, “I scarcely approve of her.”

If you all are still interested, I’ll share more posts about Charmion. I’m mildly obsessed with her and there’s loads more fun facts and stories about her. Thanks for reading.

[capsarcastica]

Dexter Final Season Rewrite

I know I'm a little late to the party. I finally finished watching all of Dexter. I really enjoyed the show, but I can understand why the final season disappointed fans. It's not the worst finale I've ever seen (How I Met Your Mother) but neither does it stick the landing leaving fans satisfied (Friends).

Shows about anti-heroes like The Shield, The Sopranos, and Breaking Bad know that the best finale is the walls closing in on them. Unfortunately, Dexter wasted that story in the second season. Other characters had their suspicions about Dex, but they were dealt with. The finale tries to have a personal story that ties things together, that doesn't quite work. There's a good story idea. So I thought I'd rewrite the final season.

So, if I was in the writer's room this is what I would have rewritten the final season to be.

Since the death of LaGuerta, Debra has embraced being Dexter's partner in crime. She uses him to help clear the filth out of Miami that the law can't get, manipulating the department to help cover for him. Dex worries she might be too eager to help him. She rationalizes that it's dealing with the criminals one way or the other. The other cops notice, but figure she's just forging her own path as lieutenant. Batista secretly notifies Internal Affairs his concerns.

Dex and Deb have started a romantic relationship. They don't tell anyone besides Harrison and Jamie, but it's an open secret at the office. Quinn is bothered by it but Batista and Masuka rationalize that they aren't really related so it's fine. They're a good couple, with Dex being more human and Deb getting control of her life. However, Harrison seems to miss Hannah more than he likes Aunt Deb as his new mother.

The Brain Surgeon begins his rampage in Miami, but all the people he kills are bad. Dex wonders why these people never showed up on his radar. He closes in on the Brain Surgeon only to find him dead by another serial killer. That killer is soon found dead by another killer. It becomes apparent that serial killers are going after each other in the city. Dex becomes worried and grows paranoid that others are following and watching him.

Dr. Evelyn Vogel, the Psychopath Whisperer, is brought in. She throws out hints that she knows about Dex's double life and when confronted says she doesn't fit Harry's Code. She tells Dex that Harry came to her for help with him as a child and she gave Harry the code, essentially becoming Dex's spiritual mother. Dex opens up to her and they bond over talks about Harry.

Deb begins seeing Hannah around town watching her but can't find proof. She thinks she's just seeing things as she's stressed by the job and Hannah still being out there. Eventually, she drugs and kidnaps Deb. Hannah says she's a better match for Dex and mother to Harrison. She's about to kill Deb Bay Harbor Butcher style when the police arrive but Hannah gets away. The police renew interest in the Butcher and whether Hannah is the real Butcher or just copying. The police have officers follow Deb and Dex for their protection.

Dex tries to investigate these psycho killings but struggles with police watching him. Vogel reveals to Dex that all these killers have been her patients. He goes through her files and finds all the killers only kill bad people like him. He finds out that Vogel gave the Code to all these people, essentially creating an army of Killer Killers who all share Dex's MO. He finds Vogel is dying and she's cleaning house by getting her patients to kill each other to cover her own involvement. She never tried to cure anyone, she was molding killers.

Dex soon finds himself fending off other serial killers just as smart as him while trying to find Hannah, who is now following Harrison around. IA investigates Deb finding that she's manipulating investigations about those who would fit Bay Harbor Butcher's MO, who are then disappearing. Hannah is ruled out as the Butcher but earlier suspicions from Doakes, Quinn, and LaGuerta put the spotlight back on Dex. They rerun much of Dex's lab work and find he too has been manipulating the police.

Dex decides Vogel needs his table. However, Hannah drugs Dex and she tells him she wants a family. She says she'll take Harrison to Argentina and expects him to join them. Once Dex recovers, he races to Harrison only to find Jamie drugged and his son gone. At that moment, the Feds bust in and arrest Dex. The police try to argue for Dex, but the line of logic makes too much sense to ignore.

The Feds struggle with hard proof about Dex, as he's covered his tracks well and hidden everything. They confront him about eight seasons of crimes but he plays it cool. He's released but warned he's a person of interest and not go to anywhere. By now, Hannah has taken Harrison far away. Deb tries to use her pull but is suspended pending IA's investigation. More killers turn up dead but now Dex and Deb lack the resources to investigate on their own.

Dex and Deb decide to risk taking his boat to Cuba to find a way to Argentina, using the approaching hurricane as cover. Before he goes, Dex confronts Vogel who reveals she only has two patients left: him and Hannah. They were supposed to take each other out but instead fell in love. He kills Vogel, his newfound mother figure, but a Fed bug captures the whole thing including an admission to being the Bay Harbor Butcher and that Deb is in on it.

Dex and Deb race to the boat and are confronted by Feds. They fire and fatally hit Deb. A distraught Quinn intervenes and Dex uses the moment to get Deb to his boat and take off. They are soon lost in the storm. Deb says a tearful goodbye before dying. Dex realizes true love means sacrifice. Harry sacrificed for him and he must sacrifice for his son. He knows he can't stay with Harrison and that he has one last killer who fits the Code: himself. He puts the boat on cruise control straight into the storm.

After the storm, Dex's boat is found in pieces with no survivors. Everything about the real Bay Harbor Butcher and Psychopath Whisperer are made public. Now lieutenant, Batista has to deal with the fallout of Dex's reveal including reopening all cases Dex worked on and public backlash. In Argentina, Hannah cries seeing the news of Dex's death while Harrison seems happy with his new mommy.

The last scene would mirror the opening titles. Dexter wakes up, makes breakfast, and gets ready. Unlike the happy, sunny version of the titles this scene is dark and gloomy. Dexter looks like a man defeated and the music is more depressing. After the titles recreation, he puts on what looks like his Bay Harbor Butcher outfit and plunges a knife into something. It's revealed to be a deer and he is now a game butcher in the snowy mountains of Alaska.