#they are practically my ocs at this point i love these women | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pparadiselost · 1 year

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la maison.

noel noa x single mother fem reader noa finds himself falling head over heels for the sweet mom next door. warning(s): nsfw, alcohol, dubious consent (drunk sex), single mother reader, named son oc (irrelevant outside of pornmaking plot), creampie, breeding minors do not interact.

recently, noel noa has developed a bit of a problem.

he had fallen in love with his next-door-neighbor. which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t the most unique nor the most world-shattering of issues he could possibly have, but these once trivial feelings he had no time to waste on started taking root in his head, they began to spread like wildfire throughout his daily life.

the pro soccer player was mildly surprised to find out that the young man who had lived next to him in the quaint apartment he called home had moved out while he was playing overseas. noa didn’t think too much of it. he rarely ever grew close with the neighbors around him. he was often out of the house, gone for months to even years at a time playing for whatever country or club summoned him, and when he was home, he preferred spending his time alone rather than getting attached to people who he had nothing in common with.

but the two of you had gotten off on a completely unexpected foot.

“dada!” the squirming toddler in your arms squeals. you nearly drop the bag of groceries you were precariously balancing on your elbow, yelping softly as your son uses all the force he can muster in his tiny body to lurch towards noa. “dada, dada!”

“no, sweetie, that’s not your dad,” you gently remind him, unable to stop the sheepish smile that tugs at your lips. you expertly lean the little boy against your hip while you regain your grip on your groceries, flashing an apologetic smile at noa. “i’m so sorry about that. he has a habit of saying that to every man he sees.”

noa stands practically frozen in his doorframe. he’s seen his fair share of almost blasphemously beautiful women in his life: models, actresses, influencers… but nothing holds a candle to the way his heart thumps in his chest when his eyes land on you. every bit of you screams sweet yet battered to him, your eyes mild and gentle by the tugs of time and your body all covered with loose clothes to make sure your boy could hug right into every little nook and cranny that he pleases.

a perfect image of motherhood.

his dick throbs in his pants.

it’s lecherous. he doesn’t even know your name, and he’s getting turned on. hell, you might even be married, yet he’s lusting after you.

“it’s alright. i know how kids are,” he lies. he actually doesn’t know how kids are, but it’s enough to get you to laugh again. “do you live near here? i don’t think i’ve seen you around.”

“ah! i do.” you lift a hand to point at the door right next to his while your son tugs at your clothes impatiently. he keeps mumbling dada, dada in that gurgling voice of his, looking up at you and then stealing glances at noa. “we moved in fairly recently. i didn’t think we’d have a neighbor, because i thought the next door apartment was empty.”

his heart skips a beat, and noa coughs to clear his throat. “i see. my job requires me to be overseas a lot, so i’m out of the house often. i suppose, that makes us next-door-neighbors then. my name is noel noa. it’s lovely to meet you.”

he half-expects you to gasp and run off upon hearing his name, but instead your smile widens. “it’s lovely to meet you as well. my name is (y/n). this naughty little elf right here is honoré. do you wanna say hi to mr. noa, sweetie?”

you keep cooing at the boy, while noa breathes a sigh of relief. so you don’t recognize him to be a pro player. in some ways he prefers that. he wouldn’t want to scare you away. his mind races when he thinks about how he’s now next door to who he believes is the most fuckable woman on earth.

“alright, it was a joy meeting you. i’ll see you around then, mr. noa?” you offer.

‘noel is fine.’ noa nods, mumbling an agreement before you wave and disappear into your suite, leaving him dumbfounded in his doorframe. what was he even leaving the house for? he doesn’t remember anymore.

but god. temptation had fallen straight into his lap, and if the arousal churning deep in his gut told him anything, it was that his life was going to be trouble from now on.

…

noel noa has also come across a stroke of luck. his manager on the other end of the phone sighs and tells him that the next season has been postponed for a few months, mumbling on about some logistics issues between the professional leagues regarding budgeting and some new stadium being built. noa couldn’t care less: his job was to play soccer, and that was final.

the bottom line was clear. he wouldn’t be flying out and disappearing again, and for a few months, he was free to do as he wanted so long as he kept himself in tip-top shape and maintained his usual training.

a guilty part of him celebrates. it means he gets to stay longer with you, right next doors. he’s been running into you more often, and you’re always quick to offer up a small greeting and make small talk with him when time allows. noa tries so, so hard to be a good man and genuinely get to know you as a good neighbor should, rather than to look at you and be driven half-insane by how much he wishes he could drag you to his suite and fuck you on his bed.

honoré never fails to happily scream out “dada!” at noa when he sees the man, and you always correct your son with a stern voice. part of noa wants you to stop correcting him, his inner lust-demon celebrating slightly at the fact that your son is ready to accept him as his father. noa had been hesitant on full-on courting you, or at least, what he considered courting (lavinho never failed to make fun of him for having “the flirtation skills of a 13th century monk!”), having assumed that you had a husband.

but he notices the lack of a wedding band around your ring finger. could it be that you didn’t have a husband, after all?

not that it matters. noa knows he shouldn’t let himself daydream. he barely knows you, and the very least he can do is show you a modicum of respect rather than treating you like some hunk of hot meat on the dating market.

it’s dark outside when noa sits down in his bed, unwinding by himself after a long day of analyzing previous games and practicing by himself out in one of the nearby training fields. he hasn’t seen you all day, but he knows you’re home because he stole a peek at your apartment window while heading in. the lights are on, and presumably, you’re inside. it isn’t safe for a woman and a little child to be out and about when it’s dark, and noa wonders if he should offer to escort you if you ever need to go out.

no. he shouldn’t overstep. he really shouldn’t.

but what really throws him for a loop is what he hears through the thin apartment walls. at first he thought it was his phone, having auto-started a video, but nothing in his house could be capable of making that noise. noa sits still on his bed and cranes his ears, and then realization settles like cold snow on his body.

you’re singing. your voice is hushed, loving, and every now and then, noa makes out the whiny cries of a little boy.

he pauses.

dear lord. are you singing your son to sleep?

noa grits his teeth and stifles a groan when a rush of blood floods his groin, and his pants immediately start tightening up. he’s used up all of his self-restraint to not feel this way around you, yet the thought of you, in such domestic bliss with your toddler, turns him ridiculously on. his cock fucking hurts from how hard it is, pressing up angrily against his pants and demanding that he do something about it. his stomach throbs and swirls with need, with the desire to fuck something until he’s satisfied.

his hand absentmindedly wanders to the waistband of his pants, and he guides his dick so that it springs free from its restrictive confines. noa doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before in his life—his cock slaps up against his stomach, and the irritated tip is already drooling greedily. noa hisses quietly when the cold air rushes against his swollen organ, and he carefully wraps his hand around his dick.

you continue your singing.

noa wonders how you must look. he wonders if your sweet hair is damp from a shower, or if you’re getting ready to step into the bath once you put your son to sleep. he wishes he could bury his face in your hair and lewdly inhale, and he begins to slowly stroke his cock at the thought of your features.

maybe you’d hold your son to your chest. blood swells south at the thought of your breasts. the sloping curve that you always hid behind conservative clothes. noa isn’t sure if he wants to sweetly coax you out of them, getting you to shyly bare yourself for him, or if he wants to rip them off of you like an animal and savor the way you squeal and try to cover yourself up.

he wants to grope your tits. your gorgeous tits, made to hold a little boy close to your heart, once filled with milk to feed your son, all swollen and easily filling up his cupped hands. noa barely holds back a moan as he fists himself while daydreaming about your breasts.

he’d ghost his fingertips over your puffy nipples. he’d hear you cry out, sobbing out a “i-i’m sensitive there, noel-” while he teases them. he’d tug on them too, after a while, feeling your cunt grow wetter and wetter while he has his way with your body. he’d keep on circling his fingers all over your supple breasts, the dainty signs of motherhood filling out and fueling his own libido.

his cock twitches in his fist. he’s leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. just the mental image of your fat tits has him acting this way, and noa doesn’t know what to do with himself. his balls tighten and contract, and your singsongy filling his ears overwhelms with lust.

he wants to fuck you. he wants to fuck you so bad. his length is fuming at him for not being buried into your delicate body. noa wants to fuck into you anywhere he can get.

your smaller hands, struggling to fully wrap your fingers around his thick cock. or your mouth, that canary-like voice of yours being put to good use by choking and slobbering all over him. or even your tits that he had been drooling over, slapping his cockhead over your sensitive nipples until you’re squirming and scrunching your face up the way he likes it. your plush thighs wouldn’t be too bad too, hearing your breath hitch and hike up an octave whenever his tip catches on your throbbing clit.

‘fuck- fucking hell, fuck, fuck…!’ he grits his teeth as his hands speed up, fucking against his cock as if he were a bull in heat. he hasn’t even had the opportunity to fantasize about your gummy pussy yet, and he’s already this close.

he’s too preoccupied taking his time fucking you with his eyes in his mind, stroking fervently to the sound of your muffled voice. he wants to cum, he wants to cum so bad, he wants to take all of his pent-up frustration and make it real and tangible that you’re the one who drove him to this ridiculous state.

he swears he’s going to fuck you. he swears he’s going to fuck his cock into you until your body bends and breaks to him, until you turn into a fucked-out shell of the sweetheart that lives next door. he’s going to get you fucking hooked on his cock so that you’re drooling and chasing after sex with as much as he’s going crazy for you.

horribly wet shlick-shlick noises echo around his bedroom as he thrusts himself all over his hand. his stomach twists violently, and his heavy balls contract painfully before noa cums all over himself.

‘shit. shit…!’

he grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, forcing down any noises out of fear that you might hear. the rush almost breaks him. ropes of heady cum splash all over his chest and abs, instantly drenching and burning into his skin. he strokes himself through his orgasm, the coils in his gut twisting against themselves, unfurling in and out as pure pleasure streaks through his body. god, this was so wrong of him to do, but noa would be fucking damned if he said he ever came this hard before.

his cock hangs from the pricks of overstimulation as he continues to stroke himself, coaxing out every second of his orgasm as he possibly could. shame immediately floods his body like ice water when his foggy mind clears bit-by-bit, yet he can’t bring himself to jump to his feet and start cleaning up.

noa sits defeatedly in his bed. his chest heaves as he catches his breath, wishing his cum was streaked all over you rather than his own body, and he swallows thickly. he feels horrendously guilty, yet in a twist of ironic fate, your voice keeps trickling through the thin walls.

noa doesn’t even have time to fully let the guilt hit before his dick is swelling up in his fist again.

‘one more round. just one more round,’ he bargains with himself, ‘just until you stop singing lullabies to your son.’

…

“i’m so sorry, noel,” you laugh awkwardly. “i really hope i’m not bothering you.”

“it’s no problem at all, really. this is what neighbors are for.”

you stand a few paces in front of him, and the exhausted smile on your face makes noa’s heart speed up dangerously. honoré is fast asleep on your back, strapped to you with a baby harness. in noa’s hands is a stubborn jar of sauce, which, according to you, absolutely refused to open no matter what you did or how hard you had tried to wrench the lid open.

noa firmly grips the lid, and with a small grunt, he easily pops the jar lid open. your eyes widen in awe as he flexes his muscles subtly, a few of the veins in his toned arms becoming visible. he notices you staring at him, and he gently screws the lid back on before handing it back to you.

“thank you so much!” you beam. “it stressed me out so much that i couldn’t get it open. silly of me to think that when i have you right here. classic case of mom brain.”

noa thinks he’s going to stop breathing. you’re beaming at him in such a lighthearted manner, and your words bring his brain to full halt for a split second. he manages a lukewarm smile, and he’s getting ready to wave you off and let you scurry back into your apartment complex before you pause.

“you know… if you aren’t that busy tonight, would you like to come over for dinner? i’m in the middle of cooking right now—well, duh—and i feel like it wouldn’t hurt to make friends with the person living right next door,” you offer up innocently. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to! i completely get it-”

“-i’d love to. when would you like me over?” noa doesn’t even need to consider his options. “should i dress up?”

“dress up?” you gasp. “you don’t need to do anything fancy like that! it’ll just be a nice home cooked meal, maybe a little wine, just as a sign of goodwill. i’ll still need about… let’s say an hour? that way i can clean up a little too… the petit rascal here has a knack for getting into everything.”

“an hour sounds good to me. thank you for the invitation. i’ll look forward to it,” he responds plainly. his thoughts are going a million miles per hour.

dinner. at your place. with you. just you and him.

lady luck must be on his side. not even playing in the world cup could compare to the amount of anxiety and anticipation bubbling up inside of him. you flash him a thumbs-up, unaware of the wrench you had thrown into his nearly nonexistent courtship plans. he stands a bit dumbfounded in the doorframe (not too dissimilar when he first met you) when you scoot back into your place, most likely jumping straight back to work in order to prep food and spruce up your home to take him as a guest.

an hour. noa decides that it’s enough time for him to groom himself a bit too. jump in the shower, douse himself with a nice perfume, pick out a casual yet still suave outfit. if time allows, he’d even run down to a nearby store to buy a bouquet of flowers. a nice little thank you present for the meal, but undoubtedly enough of an ambiguous gift to give it a slight romantic tinge.

noa was going to milk this opportunity. you had thrown him the perfect chance, and noa knew that once he fixated on something, he would see it through.

to his success, all things willing.

…

everything about your house suited you. your apartment complex wasn’t decorated too lavishly, yet it wasn’t barebones either. noa smiles when he sees all the pictures of your son you have framed against the walls, and your shelves are stuffed with picture books and other memorabilia of the toddler.

you had expertly put honoré to bed before noa had came around, and when he knocked on your door an hour later, you had buried your face in your hands and laughed like a schoolgirl that had been confessed to when he presented you with a bouquet of beautifully prepared calla lilies.

“you shouldn’t have!” you had smacked his arm playfully, but noa felt his chest swell with pride when you rifled through your closet to find a makeshift vase to place the flowers in.

dinner had been delightful. noa had eagerly wolfed down whatever food you served him, and you were more than happy to prattle on to him about how honoré had recently developed an affinity for blueberries and that you were debating between buying him legos or a toy truck.

of course, the wine flowed generously throughout too. you had admitted that you had saved the red wine for a long time, never having a reason to drink it since your hands were full with a baby and not really wanting to crack a whole bottle open just for yourself. noa could tell you were enjoying the drink, swirling the wine glass around rhythmically as the drink slowly stained your plump lips a deep shade of maroon.

how lovely. noa wondered if it would smear if he were to kiss you.

letting you chatter on without stopping you let him extrapolate a lot that he wouldn’t have known otherwise. it didn’t take too many sips to get you a little tipsy, and with a few questions to ease you up, you were practically an open book.

you had gotten pregnant with your son a few years back, and when you approached honoré’s dad with the news, the sleazebag had completely vanished from your life. as awful as it sounds, noa celebrates inwardly when he hears that you’re single. you admitted that you were lucky enough to have good friends and a somewhat stable support system who took care of you through your pregnancy, and you had honoré without too many complications. but one thing led to another, and you ended up moving here.

“i work remotely,” you murmur, stealing another mouthful of red wine. “it’s… not much, but it’s enough to provide for me and my little boy. i get to pamper him a fair amount, and working from home means that i don’t need to worry about a babysitter! it won’t be too long until i can send him to school, and at that point, i can probably look for a better paying job that i can commute to.”

“i see. if i’m ever around, i wouldn’t mind looking after honoré. you already have a lot on your plate, and if there’s anything i can do to ease the load…,” noa trails off. you sigh dreamily, shaking your head.

“oh, i couldn’t ask you to do that. but i really appreciate the offer.” you glance towards the nursery. “honoré has taken a liking to you though. he gets so excited whenever he sees you!”

the tension between you two is electric. noa feels like his heart is about to give out on him, and if the tension mounting in his stomach tells him anything, it’s that he should be thankful for having the foresight to wear loose pants. your house smells like you: sweet, light, a perfect aphrodisiac for the starved man.

this is the closest he’s ever been to you, the longest he’s ever talked to you. you keep batting your eyelashes at him, looking up at him with such pretty, tipsy eyes. maybe it’s the alcohol talking for the both of you, but noa finds it hard to even swallow. he sips tentatively at his own wine glass. his mouth keeps drying up, and he’s thankful that you’re so good at filling up his silence with your own little chit chat.

“if you don’t mind me…,” you start. you peek at him, and he stares back at you with his sharp golden eyes. “what do you do for a living, noel?”

“me…?” panic stabs at him for a moment.

should he be honest with you? you didn’t recognize his name when he introduced himself, so it was clear that you had no idea that the man right next to you was quite literally the world’s best striker. would that change the way you viewed him? would you be scared? repulsed? would you talk to him again if you knew?

“sorry-,” you’re quick to apologize. “that was too much of me. you really don’t have to answer me. that was entirely my bad.”

“no, i don’t mind.” he owes you that much. you had been nothing but kind and welcoming towards him, and all he did in return was go insane with desire. the very least he could do was come clean about who he truly was.

he shifts in his seat, and noa braces himself for the worst. “i’m a professional soccer player.”

you blink at him. “r-really? wait, that’s kinda cool! do you play for a local league or something?”

“i play as a striker for bastard munchen. it’s a german team. they’re one of europe’s most prestigious leagues, and they’ve sent players to the world cup.” his grip on his wineglass tightens just a tad bit. “i’ve played in the world cup.”

your jaw drops. “oh my god. you’re not joking with me, are you?”

he risks meeting your eyes. “do i look like the kind of man to joke around?”

you cover your mouth with your hand, unable to look him in the face. “oh my god… ohhhh my god…! i’m so sorry! i’ve been referring to you so casually, and- and-”

he raises a hand, and he shushes you. “what are you apologizing for? you’ve done nothing wrong. you’ve always treated me kindly. i don’t see why knowing my job would change anything between us. we’re still neighbors. and at this point, we’re friends as well, I'd hope.”

he sees you swallow back a sigh, and you take a deep breath and nod. “right. yes. this doesn’t change anything… it’s still a lot to just- to just take in, you know?”

“you take the time you need. and if interacting with me becomes too much, then i understand. the last thing i’d like to do is make you uncomfortable.” his heart wrenches painfully inside of his chest at the thought of no longer being able to talk to you. but you’d find out sooner or later, and if his cover was going to be blown, noa would prefer doing it on his own terms.

“can i ask you another question then?” you ask with your mousy voice.

“go ahead.”

“why do you live here then?” you hiccup. “shouldn’t a super talented soccer player like you live in a big mansion?”

“i could. but i don’t particularly want to.” noa notices that you’re working up the courage to look him in the face again. his stomach twists once more, the sight of your pretty face all conflicted throwing his brain into turmoil again. he clenches his fist, digging his nails into his palm to bring himself back to the same plane of reality that you were on. “i’ve never been interested in a flashy life. i prefer living quietly and doing as i’m told.”

“that does sound like you,” you hum in agreement. “well, as surprising as it is, i’m glad to have someone like you for my neighbor. and i promise i’m not saying it just because i know that you’re a professional athlete now!”

you giggle brightly, your lips curving to match the rim of your wine glass. you down the remaining liquid, giving a soft smack of your mouth to fully savor the notes. noa clenches his jaw visibly, and his nails threaten to break the thick skin of his palms.

you’re tempting him. you’re driving him insane. your lips are dyed and pretty, and noa has been staring at them all evening. his throat feels dry and heavy, and he forces the arousal pooling in his crotch to calm down.

he can’t be like this right in front of you. it was one thing to act like an immoral, debauched man in private, but it was another to be unable to control himself in front of you. he was better than this. he knew he was.

but the heart wants what it wants. and there was nothing more that noa wanted than to force you to your knees, to whip his hardening cock out of his pants and smack your slutty wine-stained lips with the tip. he’d force you to open up and stretch that cute mouth of yours around his girth, watch you struggle to take him into your mouth and whimper all over his cock. knowing you, you’d beg him to be gentle with you, to be quiet so that you wouldn’t wake up the slumbering angel in the next room over, and noa would have to fight every animalistic instinct in him to not fuck you until you’d be wailing the house down.

“is everything alright, noel?” you break him out of your thoughts. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts before he faces you. he can’t stop the heat from flooding his face, but he’s quick to decide that he’d simply blame it on the alcohol.

he couldn’t keep doing this forever. something or other would give, and the last thing noa would want would be to do some unforgivable or stupid. it was torture, to have his body say one thing and his mind another, especially when you were quite literally within arm’s reach.

“i’m alright. you don’t need to worry about me. i can take care of myself,” he promises. you lean in closer, enough so that noa can feel your warm breath trickling across his neck. his heart threatens to stop, and he looks at you with hesitant eyes.

“are you sure?” your hand lands on his thigh, squeezing him gently.

oh. so that’s how things were going to be. what a goddamn minx you were, doing something like this with such disgustingly innocent intent.

“yes. i’m fine,” he presses his lips into a thin line. “would you mind passing me the wine bottle? i’ll pour us another glass, if you don’t mind…”

…

your mouth tastes delicious, like fresh wine and everything he had wanted to do to you since forever. your face is flushed, and your eyes are hazy, barely meeting his as you struggle to keep up with him through your drunken state.

“n-noel-!” you squeak out. his heavy body weighs you down, keeping you trapped between him and your squeaky bed. things are a blur, even for him.

one moment he’s pouring you more wine, and the next, the two of you are stumbling into your room, where he tosses you down onto the mattress like you’re a ragdoll.

“tell me you want it.” he rolls his clothed hips into yours, and you recoil into the bed with a choked whine. the sound goes straight to his dick. god, how long had he wanted to hear that? to hear the woman he had coveted for so long moaning underneath him?

you shake against his larger form. “w-want it- i want it, noel-“

“you want me to fuck you? you want your next-door-neighbor to fuck you?” he whispers. you shut your eyes as he kisses up your neck, his hands gripping your waist as his lips capture your earlobe. he sucks, his tongue lapping at your soft skin.

his imagination has nothing on how you actually feel in his hands. even through your clothes, he has no issues palming at your figure. you breathe out his name as his palms feel your curves, his fingertips dancing with the hem of your clothes.

you nod wantonly, not once fighting off his advances. “yes! yes, i want it- want you to fuck me- want my next-door-neighbor to have sex with me!”

“good girl,” he exhales. your breathing shallows as he coaxes your shirt over your chest and head, and you shudder as his eyes land all over your stomach and breasts.

your bra struggles to hold onto your chest, your full breasts pooling over the edge. you yelp when he yanks at your bra, snapping it off of you and letting your chest tumble out fully in front of him.

you instinctively try to cover yourself up with your arms, and noa grabs your wrists and wrenches them off of your chest. you mewl when the air nips at your nipples, causing them to perk up slightly.

“don’t you dare think about hiding yourself from me,” noa whispers. “you have no way of getting yourself out of this.”

you rub your thighs together, your cunt throbbing. when was the last time you had done this? you hadn’t had sex in years, not when you had your hands full with a baby and keeping yourself afloat. you were a mom, for fuck’s sake, with a whole baby to watch out for, yet here you were, pinned down underneath noel noa while he grinded his boner into your thighs.

his hands latch onto your chest, and his palms grope at your fat tits slowly. you moan out breathlessly when his calloused palms tease at your nipples, sending a jolt of arousal into your stomach. a wet patch forms in your panties, horribly turned on just from having your boobs squeezed a few times.

“god, you have no clue what your body does to me,” noa rasps. “do you have any idea how much i’ve dreamt about this? how much i wanted to touch those slutty tits of yours? look at you—your body was practically made to be fucked.”

your core twists painfully, and his fingertips pinch tentatively at your nipples.

“ah-! ahhh- noel-,” you buck your hips unconsciously, arching your back as he tugs at your chest. it stings, but it feels so good. even with the wine muddying your thoughts, your body responds to every little bit of attention noel showers onto you. you didn’t know you had it in you to be this lewd or to be this responsive.

you want more. it had been far too long since anyone showed you any love like this.

he slaps your tits before bringing his hands down to your pants, expertly undoing the zipper and hooking his fingers around the waistline. you let him wiggle your clothes over your hips and legs, leaving you almost entirely naked save for your drenched panties. it feels so terribly lewd, to lay there all bare for a man, even if you two haven’t technically done anything.

his hands squeeze possessively at your thighs. “i wanted to fuck you ever since the first time i saw you. ever since you told me your name, since your son started calling me dad. that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? if i became his dad?”

your chest tightens, and you bite back another lewd moan. noa ducks his head down and nips at your thighs with his teeth, and you flinch into his chest.

“you said it yourself. your little boy loves me,” noa murmurs. his tongue laps over his teeth marks, and you suck in a breath. your pussy twitches, clenching around nothing. your body wants more, wants to feel more noa more, wants him to take over your body and make you his. “nothing would make him happier than his beloved mommy to have a dad by her side.”

his mouth heads upwards, and he uses his strong hands to pry your shaking legs apart. you whimper, already feeling so exposed to the bigger man despite still having your panties on. he leans back, but his fingers ghost over your crotch. two fingers press up right against your pussy, and he rubs them up and down your covered slit.

his fingertips are damp. you’re obscenely wet, and watching you struggle to control yourself has noa’s cock straining for its life in his pants.

“or even better,” noa grabs at the waistband of your panties, “daddy fucks mommy pregnant and gives him a younger sibling that he can dote on.”

you throw your head back against your pillow. your mind spins with arousal and alcohol, and noa slips your panties off without any resistance. a strand of slick sticks to the crotch of your underwear, and noa’s finally rewarded with the sight of your bare pussy. he can see your hole fluttering and twitching on itself, desperate to be stuffed and stretched out with something.

god. your body is so attractive to him. he’s never wanted to fuck someone more in his life. with your full hips and soft stomach, motherhood has mellowed out and accentuated you into a woman noa just couldn’t resist.

he thinks he’s going to stop breathing.

“d-don’t look too hard-,” you stammer out. your body heats up and flushed at how intently noa’s staring at your defenseless cunt, knowing that your body’s begging to be penetrated and fucked.

“i’ll be so good to you,” noa vows. you’re frozen on the sheets, and noa nearly shreds the clothes off of him. your voice catches in the back of your throat when you see his toned chest and abs, the silhouette of the soccer player resembling more of a greek god than the man you had always known as your neighbor.

he pulls his pants down, and when he shoves his boxers off, you can’t help but gasp “oh!” at how big his cock is. he’s obscenely thick and long, and your pussy is both parts scared and aroused at the sheer size. god—you just know that he would stretch your walls out deliciously. his tip smacks his abs, and prominent veins run all along his length.

“you’re so big…,” you eke out. “it’s been so long since i had sex… i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“i’ll make it fit.” noa rests his hands on top of your knees. “do you want me to prep you?”

you nod. “yes please…”

he reaches over and grabs your hips, and before you can fully register what’s happening, noa hoists your hips up into the air. you give a loud cry, and the bed creaks underneath you as noa ducks his head. his grip on you is firm, and his fingers press into your hips as he brings your drooling cunt to his mouth.

noa’s tongue circles your throbbing clit. your hands fly up to your pillow, gripping at the plush material. jolts of electricity shoot up your core, and your stomach twists with pleasure. your thighs subconsciously try to shut, but noa curves his hands to keep them spread open.

“nngh…! wait, noel, hold on-,” you sob. you grip your pillow, clamping your teeth shut as noa teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. your hips shake as you grind up into his mouth, each wave of stimulation making your pussy drool and throb for more. “ah- be gentle with me…!”

be gentle with you? dear lord, noa sucking on your clit like a starved man was him being gentle with you. he had jerked himself off countless times fantasizing about having you naked and in his arms like this, and it took everything in him not to break that dripping cunt of yours in half with his dick. his cock twitches and protests when noa ignores his own arousal, too preoccupied in trying to force an orgasm out of you.

you taste so sweet on his tongue. you mewl out his name over and over, and your voice sounds like literal honey to his ears. one of his hands snakes down from your hips, and while noa swirls his tongue around your nub, he circles your pulsing hole with a finger. he could die right there and then, and noa would die a happy man. drowning in your honeyed cunt, losing himself to the tantalizing sensation of pleasuring you like any devoted man would.

“oh! oh god, noel-” your pussy can’t stop leaking with slick as noa keeps teasing you. he slips a finger in without much resistance, and your walls eagerly latch onto him. noa groans against your cunt when he feels your wall twist and clench around his finger, greedily sucking him in.

god, noa thinks he’s going to go insane. his cock wants nothing more than to bury itself into your sweet pussy, and feeling you twitch and clamp up on his finger makes his dick grow hungrier. his arousal is almost impossible to ignore, yet noa continues to swallow and lap at your core while he fingers you slowly.

he slides in another finger, thrusting in and out of you carefully. you buck your hips, crying out so prettily for him. noa curls his fingers and presses his fingertips all inside your pussy, and he stays vigilant in looking for that sweet spot that would completely unravel you.

“fuck-! fuck, wait- please, i-i can’t-!” you plead. your pussy tightens up around his knuckles dangerously, and noa fucks his fingers up into the spot that made you clench up and mewl so loudly. you’re already moaning and trembling this much just from being fucked on two fingers and having your clit sucked. noa can’t get enough of the way your body twists and reacts to everything he gives you.

a third finger prods at your hole, as if to ask if you’re ready. you inhale shakily as noa pushes another knuckle into you.

“fuck…!” you’re immediately clenching up, and your pussy’s walls are rubbing all against his fingers greedily. you’re nearly in tears, just from being fingered, and noa fights his desire to break you. “it feels so good- you feel so good, noel…!”

he thrusts his fingers into you, and you reel visibly. he can tell from the way your pussy has been twitching and gushing all around him that you’re close, stretched to your limit just from three fingers. he doubles down on flicking his tongue all over your clit: letting you grind your hips down greedily against the broad of his tongue. your body shakes, and you can’t stop sobbing.

you’re almost there. you both know you’re almost there. noa focuses himself on pleasuring you fully, and he roughly fucks his fingers into you and curls his knuckles into your g-spot without any mercy.

“noel-!”

your cunt squeezes his fingers for dear life, and noa latches himself onto your clit as you nearly wrench yourself out of his grasp. heat shreds your body, and the tightening in your stomach snaps violently as you cum shamelessly all over noa’s hands and mouth. you cry out his name loudly again, your normally gentle voice sounding so lewd and desperate as your slick gushes all over his chin and palm.

“fuck…! cumming- i’m cumming, noel…!” your body twists in his hands, and noa continues to stimulate your cunt until you’re babbling incoherent noises. he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, feeling your pussy try to cling to his knuckles before he lets you down properly onto the bed again. you’re struggling to catch your breath, your wide eyes all hazy and drunken as you suck in shaky breaths.

noa has no issue swallowing down your cum. he sucks your juices off of his fingers, cleaning up his mouth and chin before he scoots closer to you. you let out such a pathetic moan when he spreads your legs out again, your body too pliant and weak to offer any resistance. the sight of your obviously overstimulated and squirt-slicked cunt makes some sick monster in him swell with pride.

he did that. he made you cum.

he grips his long-ignored and fully engorged cock, and he smacks it against your cunt lightly. you flinch, your hole flaring up as he rubs his dick up and down your slick pussy lips.

“are you doing alright?” noa asks. his hands grab your hips, and your heart flutters as he rubs soothing circles into your skin. you nod weakly.

“yeah- i can do it,” you promise. you glance up at him with such pretty fluttering eyes, remnants of tears clinging to your lashes as you swallow. “i want you in me… i want your cock in me, please…”

“alright. deep breath. relax for me,” he commands. you nod again, and you shakily inhale and try to loosen your muscles up.

it immediately burns when he slides into you. you grit your teeth, trying your hardest to keep your pussy relaxed as his thick cock invades your pussy and stretches your walls out to its limits. noa grips your hips tightly, and he groans lowly when he feels you clamping up around his dick.

“fucking hell-,” he breathes out. “you’re so fucking tight-”

“t-too big-” hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “oh god, you’re going to break me!”

your pussy sucks him in and rubs all around his cock in a way that makes noa see stars. you’re so soft and tight, clinging and drooling all over his dick while his girth stretches and flexes your walls out. he keeps pushing past the resistance until he bottoms out, his balls resting heavy on top of your ass. you choke and gasp as he pushes your hips back even further, and he hovers over you, keeping you trapped underneath his thick legs.

a mating press.

“listen to me now,” he says. “i’m going to fuck you pregnant. i’m gonna fuck this pussy of yours till you’re pregnant again, and i’m going to give that little boy of yours a sibling of his own. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? have a baby of our own and form a perfect family…”

your pussy squeezes involuntarily, and even without you saying anything, he knows you’re turned on at the thought of being bred by him. a loud moan bubbles up in your chest as he slides his monstrous cock out of you before roughly slamming his hips down, forcing his entire length back into your tight cunt.

you barely choke back a scream. his cock has filled out every single bit of your hole, leaving you no room to comfortably take him. you swear that his tip prods dangerously at your womb, threatening to force it open so that he can dump as much of his cum into you as he wants.

oh god, you’re fucked. you’re having raw sex with your hot neighbor, and he’s talking about fucking his own child into you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “can’t believe you had a whole baby with this pussy with how goddamn tight you are-”

you shudder as he thrusts in and out of you. every time he pistons his hips, he doesn’t waste a single movement. none of his thrusts are shallow; each one pumps deep and directly into your womb, clearly with the sole intent of getting you pregnant.

“haven’t had sex with anyone since- since i got pregnant with honoré,” you manage out. “fuck, fuck- you’re going too deep!”

irritation irks him in at the thought of some bastard getting to fuck you first, at the thought of another man getting to fuck that slutty pussy of yours. what kind of madman would even dream of letting you go, let alone throw you out so cruelly into the world? if he could, noa would keep you at home and lavish you with all the attention and love you could ever want. he’d pamper you, treat you like the goddess you are, make sure you know your worth and more. he can imagine it: buying you pretty clothes, taking you out to expensive dinners, spoiling honoré until the boy’s world is flipped upside down by his indulgent stepfather.

but when noa glances down to see you all spread out and submissive for him, your hole eagerly taking his cock and getting ready to be stuffed with his cum, he can’t help but gloat slightly. he’s the one who has you now, the one who’s going to properly sweep you off your feet, the one who’s going to make you his.

“don’t lose yourself just yet. i know you can take it.” he fucks his dick into you once more, and you moan, unable to stop the arousal coiling up in your core. he wants to make sure you feel it, makes sure you feel every inch and ridge of his cock rubbing against your insides. he doesn’t know when the last time you had dick was, and neither does he particularly care, but he wants your body to know that his dick is the best you’ll ever have. “get used to how it feels. i’m going to make you my wife—gonna give you a family of our own. that’d be nice, yeah? to have someone that can support you? so you’re not all alone with just your son?”

you can’t help but nod, your pussy quivering at the thought. you know you’re not thinking straight, not when wine stains your thoughts and your body’s overrun with lust. but for some reason, thinking about noa wifing you up, taking you to be his cute little housewife while he fucks his kids into you, chasing after honoré and whatever other babies he’s going to put in you, finally having someone kind and reliable to depend on…

you want it. you want it so bad.

your cunt makes it obvious from how much you’re clenching up around him, unconsciously milking his cock.

“you like that? you like the thought of getting married to me and having my babies?” noa eggs on.

“don’t tease me like that-,” you protest. you can barely keep up with everything happening around you. his cock keeps stretching you out, rubbing all over your slick walls and sending waves of heat up your core. arousal floods your gut, and all you can care about is how good it feels to have sex, to finally let loose and forget about all the worries in the world, to lose yourself to a man who wants nothing more than to be good to you.

“tell me it feels good. tell me you want it.” noa’s fingers dig into your thighs. your clit throbs, and you bring a hand to your crotch to rub at it frantically. you’re sniffling and sobbing pathetically underneath the pro player, already this cock-drunk and overwhelmed just from having cum on his mouth once.

“want it-,” you obediently repeat. heat floods your face and neck. he’s so possessive, but it turns you on so much. “want you so bad- want you to fuck me-”

“is that all?” his hips pound into you mercilessly, and you groan. his balls slap against your ass every time he fucks his cock into you, a constant reminder that you’re about to be bred by him.

“it’s embarrassing to say…” you can’t meet his eyes. noa hums disapprovingly, and dread pools in your chest when he draws his hips back all the way, until just the tip remains buried inside your indecent hole. “what are you doing…?”

you instantly turn to look at him, horror flashing across your face when you choke out, “n-noel, hold on, you can’t-!”

he slams himself all the way into you. you shriek, your core immediately burning at the ruthless stretch. his cock prods at your womb brutally, and a mix of pain and unbridled pleasure rips at your body. you’re instantaneously reduced to a crying mess, unable to form words as noa breaks your pussy. you swear you’re going to break into pieces, body left completely to the man’s mercy. he keeps drawing his hips back like that, his cock reveling in the feeling of being completely enveloped by your welcoming hole.

the room echoes with your cries, the desperate ah- ah- ah-! noises from you spurring him on to keep fucking you like a bull in heat. as much as he loves you, cherishes you, wants to keep you by his side, the sex is animalistic and unforgiving. your body feels bruised and battered as he bullies his length into you over and over again, stretching and molding your insides to adjust to his massively unfair size.

“say it!” noa’s voice doesn’t waver even once. “say it properly, or i’m not stopping until you pass out.”

you open and close your mouth dumbly, your mind too fogged up to think properly. you endeavor and push through, pursing your lips to form the words that noa has wanted to hear since the beginning. “w-wanna have sex with you more! wanna be yours- wanna be your wife-! wanna get m-married to you and- and have your babies!”

“yeah?” the blond man repeats. “you want me to be your husband? you want me to be honoré’s stepdaddy? you want me to father the rest of your kids?”

the dirty talk arouses you in a way you didn’t even realize was possible. you throw your head back, your back fully arched. you’re being so loud, too loud, and while you knew you should be quiet and good for your son’s sake, you can’t help but shamelessly beg for the man on top of you to fold you in half and fuck you pregnant until you’re nothing more than a stupid breeding bitch for your evidently soon-to-be husband.

“yes…!” you moan wantonly. “i want it all!”

he’s dangerously close. so are you, he can feel that much. you babble on and on about how you want him, how you want him to make you his, how you’ll be anything he wants you to be. what a depraved woman, he muses to himself, so desperate for love that you’d throw yourself at him once he gives you an opportunity to. he thinks it's awfully ironic, knowing that he did the same to you, and he’s glad that he has nothing but relatively good intentions.

minus the fact that he wants to get you pregnant.

his cock throbs and threatens to spill his cum into you. you’re teetering on the edge, aroused beyond your own comprehension by the sex and dirty talk, your sticky fingers playing with your abused clit. his hands reach for your tits, groping your sensitive breasts again.

he can’t wait to see you pregnant. your pretty chest, swollen up with milk for his baby, and your hips full and rounded out. your soft belly is stretched out, and you practically glow with warmth. he knows you’d be a good mother—he knows you’re a good mother. you dote on your son with so much love in your heart, and he knows you’d do anything to make sure that your family stays happy and healthy.

his heart swells.

“fuck-” he pumps his dick in and out of you at such an inhumanly fast pace. your pussy won’t stop coiling all around him, making sure to milk him for all he’s worth and intoxicating him endlessly. noa knows he hasn’t had that much to drink during dinner, but the sensation of fucking into your warm hole makes him feel like he’s had one sip too many. “gonna cum, love- gonna cum inside you and make you my wife…”

“do it-!” you encourage him. your voice is strained and high-pitched, and your thighs ache with the pressure of having him breeding you in such a demanding position. but he’s so deep in you, touching you in places you didn’t even know was possible, and the pleasure makes your mind go blank. “cum in me- please, cum inside me, noel!”

how can he refuse? you’re begging for him, asking him with such doe-like eyes and offering up that tempting body of yours.

it’s his turn to beg. “stay with me.”

you let out a loud squeal as he draws his heavy hips back one last time. your hole contracts around him, your desperate walls trying to drag him back inside, and he slams down into you as far as he can go. he knows he’s going to be hooked on your pussy, hooked on your body and the way it feels like you were made just to take his cock and get pregnant with his babies, hooked on all the ways he’s craved you with such an insatiable appetite since he’s laid eyes on you.

he lets himself go. with all the lust in his heart, enough to rival the sheer amount of love he has for his sweet, sweet neighbor.

he’s never cum this hard before. his balls tighten up painfully as he empties himself out inside of your cunt, and you moan out his name when you feel him pulsing inside your core. noa clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth together as the rush of his orgasm possesses him. you’re too much for him: too loving, too ready, too perfect, and noa would rather be damned than let you escape him.

it hurts to thrust into you so quickly, not having fully even finished riding out his climax, but he’s determined to shove as much of his semen into you. he needs you full, needs to know that you’ll be knocked up with his baby, and he uses his cock to force ropes of his hot cum into every inch of your womb.

your core tightens and twitches when you feel him cumming inside of you, all of the tension building up coming to a standstill in that moment. “fuck! fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- noel, i’m- i’m cumming- i’m cumming, i’m gonna cum- noel…!”

your cunt wrings his cock, gripping onto his length furiously. noa has to double down, brace himself for the way your body refuses to let him go, as you cry loudly and cum all over him. your pussy keeps contracting and squeezing, your second orgasm immediately setting your nerves on fire and taking complete control of your senses. he can tell you’re instantly overwhelmed, your breathing turning irregular as you pant out for air, a slick ring of ivory froth forming at the base of his cock.

“s-so good-,” you slur out, your words melting into one another. you shudder when noa pulls out of you, whining in slight protest at the sudden feeling of emptiness overtaking your warm pussy. a strand of milky cum follows his dick before breaking, and like a broken dam, a rivulet of semen leaks out of you and drips down. it follows the curve of your ass before beading momentarily on the sheets, creating a pool of cum underneath you.

even noa didn’t realize he came that much. he blames it entirely on his intent to breed you.

he sits down wordlessly by your side, the two of you laying in the darkness in silence as you catch your breaths. noa debates getting up to fetch you some water or a towel, but before he can, you grab at his wrist and coax him back to your side.

“you asked me to stay with you,” you whisper. you sound so hushed, but noa would have to be an idiot not to pick up on the wavering tinges of longing in your words. “don’t go just yet… stay with me.”

he wipes some of the sweat off of your forehead, tucking some loose hairs behind your ear. he ducks his head down to kiss your face, just like how proper lovers would. you smile so brightly, despite your body still aching from the number noa just did to you. you’re an angel sent from heaven, this much noa is sure of. he has never been one to believe that sincerely in abstract concepts like soulmates and fate, but when he cups your face and rubs his thumb over the apples of your cheeks or your eyelids, he gets it. he truly does.

“don’t worry.” his voice is calming, and despite the fatigue ebbing over you in relentless waves, you can hear him loud and clear. “i’m not going anywhere.”

…

you’re fast asleep. noa’s aware that he should be asleep too, the clock ticking into the long and lonely stretches of early morning as he keeps you tucked into his chest. a firm arm holds you close to his heart, and your body slots against his like you were made to be held by him.

a missed call notification from his manager rests on his homescreen. he doesn’t want to pick up just yet. he doesn’t want to return to the real world, to his responsibilities, to be away from you.

a text message from his manager pops up, and he scans the preview with his usual eagle-like eyes.

‘sorry for calling you so late, noa. hope you’ve been doing well,’ his manager writes. ‘unfortunately, it looks like you’re going to have the next few months off as well. some material shipments got delayed, and without it, the stadium won’t be completed for a little while longer. your instructions are the same as last time: keep up with your exercise regime and do as your club tells you. other than that, you’re free to do as you want.’

relief floods noa’s weary body. he turns his phone over, blocking off the light before he pulls you to his chest even tighter. burying his nose into your hair, he holds you against his beating heart. thump-thump, your heartbeats syncopate to one another, and noa already knows he’s going to spend his precious time dedicating himself wholly to you and your happiness.

what he doesn’t see is the next text from his manager. not that it matters, noa has everything he could possibly want right now.

‘you sure are one lucky man,’ it reads. ‘make sure to take some time for yourself and relax, away from sports. breaks like these are rare.'

'you know what they say, noa. there really is no place like home.’

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #noel noa #x reader #fem reader #my writing

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1-800-papaya · 7 months

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Cops and Bakers: Southern Caffeine

Jay Halstead x Baker!Cordelia Micheals (OC) Warnings: None i think

Author note: As always, feedback is greatly appreciated

Lemon Drops Cafe and Bakery. Big bright yellow and white letters read, and slight lemon decals surrounded the sign. Jay checked his phone before entering the shop; Hailey had insisted that the ex-army ranger get the morning coffee from the new bakery since the one in the break room was utterly broken. Pushing the glass door open, a light twinkle of a bell announced Jay’s presence. A head popped through the doorway that seemed to lead to the kitchens.

“I’ll be with you in a second.” A southern drawl stunned Jay.

The inside of the bakery was just as cozy as the exterior. Clusters of yellow chairs were pushed into three wooden tables, each bearing a yellow and white lemon tablecloth and varying-sized pillow. Along the opposite wall rests a series of tall displays, most filled with either what smelt like fresh loaves or display cakes. Turning more towards the counter, Jay noticed that in between the large coffee machine and the small portion of the counter dedicated to the register was a large display cupboard partially filled with cookies, cupcakes and some savory treats. Along the wall behind the counter, Jay could see an assortment of coffee bean bags that looked like they had yet to be packed away in the above cupboard and potted plants. The bakery overwhelmingly filled Jay with a sense of calm, and he loved the welcoming, cozy, homely environment that Hailey had sent him into.

A young woman soon walked out of the kitchen doorway and greeted Jay warmly. Her Chocolate brown curly hair was haphazardly thrown into a bun, and a yellow ribbon wrapped around the tie. She wore a white short-sleeved shirt beneath a pale yellow apron and chocolate brown pants. Her apron was covered in white dashes of flour and smudges of frosting and chocolate. The pin on her apron read Cordelia, a sticker of a small bundle of lemons decorating the rest of the pin. When Jay’s eyes reached her face, he took note of the imperfect splash of flour that dusted her cheeks and the bright smile that graced her features.

“Good Morning. What can I get ya?” Her voice was perfectly airy and sweet, like the melody of his favourite song. For once, the voice wasn't dull or uninterested; instead, it sounded like she genuinely wanted to be covered in flour dust and chocolate smudges at nearly 6:30 in the morning.

“Four large double shot coffees and Hailey Uptons usual.” He recited the order that Hailey had given him only ten minutes earlier. Jay moved to open his wallet to pay when Cordelia simply shook her head.

“No need to pay, it's on the house.” Her smile was blinding as she moved further down to the coffee machine, Jay following.

“At least let me tip you or something”, Jay argued as the women moved expertly around the small area, quickly making the coffee’s and packing a small box full of freshly baked treats.

“Please, this is the least I can do for you guys”, she spoke, “Besides, that would be breaking my own rules” " she said, pointing towards the large poster plastered above the register. Jay followed her finger and shook his head as he read the sign.

‘Cops, Firefighters, Doctors and Nurses, drinks and treats are on the house, No exceptions!!’

“My dad was a ranger and taught me the value of first responders, so when I started my business, I made it a rule that those who protect us, normal people, from our stupidity would never have to pay. Plus, I make enough profit to cover it anyway.” As she pushed the box and cup tray towards Jay, she gestured to the jar on the counter next to the register, “But if your conscience won't let you leave without leaving a tip, then here, donate to this month's charity, the Chicago police fund” Jay practically swooned over her smile this time. pushing a few large bills into the jar, Jay left the cafe with a dopey smile and a mental promise never to get coffee anywhere else.

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #bakery #fluff

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she-wolf09231982 · 3 months

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This was a fun little project I found on @suugrbunz posts and I thought it would be fun to practice with this prompt. Hope you like it!

Prompt idea to practice your writing otp (ocs or fandom) — it'd be so cool since a lot of us write BoB fandom related content. So it can be interrupted as a modern au or !! Write your couples when they have grown old together

~💚~💚~💚~💚~💚~💚~

Upon returning from Europe after the war came to an end, you and Joe Liebgott had enough points for Honorable Discharge then came back to America after having served together in Easy Company ready to begin your lives as an exclusive couple. You both agreed that California would be the proper place to settle together. With the finances you each earned overseas, you bought a modest home with all the trimmings and furniture to fill it with.

June 1946

A representative from a popular local radio station visited your home to invite you and Joe for a live broadcast interview about your experiences together as a couple while deployed. The man explained it would be a real human-interest story and the American public would love to hear it. After a little bit of coaxing, you convince Joe to do it with you.

You and Joe seated next to eachother across from the record jockey who would be interviewing you. The interview simply went as follows:

Record Jockey (RJ): So, are you two a couple?

Y/N: We are a couple. *Proudly smiling*

Joe: *Nods with a grin*

RJ: Would you mind telling us the story of how you two met?

*You’re hesitant at first because women serving in the military was quite frowned upon, but nonetheless would still be overjoyed to tell the story. Joe would only be looking to you to do all the talking. He loves hearing your voice, and just stares at you admirably*

Y/N: We both enlisted in the Army at the same time and met at Camp Toccoa, GA. I trained with the Paratroopers and the medic training unit while we were there and was assigned to Easy Company where Joe also was.

RJ: When was that?

*Joe is better with numbers than you, so you hum in thought then look at Joe to help you out*

Y/N: June....? July...

Joe: July 1942

RJ: What was your first impression of each other?

*You smile coyly at Joe, narrowing your eyes at him. Joe would be slouching in his seat, not very thrilled to be there in the first place, but perks up a little at the question meeting your gaze affectionately*

Y/N: He was smug, and overconfident. A real wise guy with a mouth that needed a good bar of soap. My initial impression of Joe was that he was nothing but trouble. And you know what? I was right about that, (Y/N giggles) but after spending all those years with him overseas, I discovered how charming he could be. And how honorable of a soldier he was in the field.

*Joe grins adoringly at you. Grabs your hand and squeezes*

Joe: At first, I thought she was a pain in the....

RJ: Mr. Liebgott! Please, we’re live!

Joe: -right...uh, pain in the rear. Whenever me and the guys did somethin’ we weren’t supposta’, she’d always be naggin’ us. Ya know, like a parent? Thought she was going to fall behind a lot and complain about getting dirty or having to fire the M-1. She didn’t complain about the work, the filth, the sweat, the tears or the heat. None of it. She pushed through like any of the guys did. I read her all wrong in the beginning.

*Your eyes meet and exchange smiles*

RJ: How many years have you been an item?

Y/N: Well, the rest of the guys considered us an ‘item’ long before we dropped into Normandy. But I’d say exclusively since late June 1944. After all the near-death experiences, we definitely had a stronger bond.

*Joe just nods in agreement*

RJ: Joe, we haven’t heard too much from you. What's your favorite thing about Y/N?

*Y/N looks over at Joe expectantly, smirking because she knows he doesn’t really like to talk about feelings*

Joe: *Long exhale, kind of stares out into space thinking* Well...she’s a knockout. Just look at her. *Gestures to Y/N sitting next to him blushing* I love that she can look the way she does and still be as strong as any of the guys in Easy.

*He looks you over and winks at you making the butterflies in your stomach dance*

RJ: So, was there a first date?

*You and Joe both look at eachother inquisitively, each squinting at one another as if trying to search the other’s thoughts for an answer. You shrug*

Joe: What about that night at Toccoa when we snuck out after lights out, and walked Curahee? Think that counts?

Y/N: Ah, yes! It was so hot and humid, and neither of us could sleep on those kinds of nights-

Joe: Mid-August 1943

Y/N: -so we both snuck out of billeting to get some air after TAPS and bumped into eachother behind the mess hall. So, it was an impromptu first date. We ended up walking the Curahee trail up the mountain where we always did our awful company runs. But you could see the stars perfectly up there.

*Joe nods*

RJ: So, with the war having brought you together and the experiences having made you two inseparable, any plans to make Y/N ‘Mrs. Liebgott?’

*You hiccup clutching your pearls. Joe chokes on saliva and chuckles nervously*

Joe: *Scratching the back of his head* I think that goes without sayin’--

RJ: How about little Liebgotts?

*Sweat forming on Joe’s forehead, you sense his panic*

Y/N: Joe and I have the same ambitions planning for our future. That will include marriage and starting a family. Right now, we’re relishing eachother living peaceful lives after the chaos of the war. We’re in no hurry.

*You look over at Joe, and he directs a grateful smile to you for rescuing him*

RJ: You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen! From the treacherous depths of war love still prevails! Thank you for sharing your story with the public! It’s lovely to see this point of view about the war than from what we’ve only heard or seen in the news. What a story!

The End

#band of brothers #joe liebgott #ross mccall #101st airborne #ww2 #joseph liebgott #easy company #501st battalion #joe liebgott rabbit hole #joe liebgott brain rot #joe liebgott sends me #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott imagines #medic #valentines aesthetic #valentines day #be my valentine

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historia-vitae-magistras · 5 months

Note

🎮 🎻 🚫 🍔 for my north american trio

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your OC's favourite hobbies?

Mari - I've always had a very enlightenment-era baby intellectual bent to her. So, reading and participating in literary culture and criticism over time returned to Juana Inés de la Cruz. There's a mix of her old-school education and folk culture in her love and talent for art. She's got a real knack for beekeeping, too.

Alfred - Lives and dies by his love of math and engineering; he was getting twitchy with the lack of Calculus right before Isaac Newton got on that shit finally, so he became an eternal tinkerer. He loves a good drive and a sky-watching session.

Matt - Woodworking, gardening, hiking.

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? What is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

In childhood, Maria played the vihuela and baroque guitar and later picked up the bajo de uña and the resulting base guitar. I don't know why I associate her with a drumset, but I like that mental image for some reason, too. She's excellent on all of them.

Alfred is one of those types who skipped from hobby to hobby to hobby as a child and has picked up practically every instrument at some point or another. He played the fucking church organ sometimes, especially when he was feeling weird about religion.

Matt - He's pretty goddamn good on a fiddle, and he can hold a tune, but most of his music is meant for some type of work and the folk scenes are pretty disparate so it's kind of hard to nail down a specifically Canadian musical instrument that hasn't been by and large surpassed by the US.

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? Do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

Mari - She does mostly beer with some harder alcohol, I think. Not very high consumption; she strikes me as more of a social drinker on special occasions. She can party, but I think she has some pretty hard limits on anything more than the very mainstream.

Alfred - He flies between teetotaller and binge drinker, like that with most things. He can go years with just drinking, but my man likes his stimulants, alas. But the very functional kind. He can

Matt - He would rather not be sober in general.

🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? Which one do they prefer?

Mari is pretty good at both but doesn't do it as much as people might think. She's been a very urbanized society for a very long time and various kinds of communal cooking. She knows the best places for Pescado a la talla or who makes the best tlacoyos in the tianguis nearest her primary home but all over the place. I don't know if she'd prefer one or the other. A thought I had is that some of her best cooking exploits are for herself. She participates in a communal culture where cooking and baking are the realm of women in many ways, so being alone in the kitchen and experimenting with her own arroz con leche or barbacoa varieties is an almost self-care ritual she holds.

Alfred - Def more of a cook than a baker. He can bake when he wants to; it's just following the steps of a recipe, but he could be more motivated by domestic things for their own sake. He will cook and bake when people are over, and people are often surprised at the quality of what makes it onto the table. He can eat seven-layer salad and jello monstrosities at a Southern or Midwest table or pull out a Napa Valley salad and wine pairing much to the ire of the old world. Food is one of the few things his hyper-individualism has yet to completely destroy.

Matt - Surprisingly good baker and cook, but not really anything anyone would write home about. Except maybe bread, he bakes a lot of bread and has had a freakishly high consumption of it since the 18th century, so archeologists can tell the bones from the New Englanders who ate a lot more corn. Not exactly internationally renowned for anything except poutine and weed scones, though, rest in pieces. If you've ever eaten anything you thought was pretty good at the time but will never ever think about again, that's Matt in the kitchen, except when he busts out the rye bread but even then no one will really believe he made it.

Character Details Ask Game

#the ask box || probis pateo #Maria || lo que viví lo estoy muriendo todavía #Alfred || o beautiful for spacious skies #Matthew || my country is winter

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multifandomfanfiction · 7 months

Text

If I Were a Man

TITLE: If I Were a Man PAIRING: Oberyn/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Liliane longs for a different life.

[A/N - Inspired by “If I Were a Man” from The Unofficial Bridgerton Musical.]

Liliane glanced around the banquet hall. Her family had been invited to the wedding of Joffrey Baratheon to Margery Tyrell and Liliane herself could care less about the royal nuptials.

She knew her mother was just going to use this opportunity to find a husband for her daughter. Liliane didn’t want to get married.

She wanted to travel all of Westeros and when she was done, she wanted to go across the Narrow Sea and explore all of Essos. Maybe if even find out what happened to Valyria.

She didn’t want to be reduced to a vessel for children and be expected to sit and listen to whatever the boring Northern lords discussed. They expected their wives to be docile and polite without opinions.

She was not going to wait around for a handsome prince to come and save her like some girl in a fairytale.

But if there was one prince she wouldn’t mind saving her it was Prince Oberyn, second son of Dorne. He was in Kings Landing on behalf of his older brother Doran, representing the kingdom of Dorne. He brought with him his beautiful paramour and mother to four of his daughters, Ellaria Sand.

Liliane, who very much preferred men, could not deny that the woman was gorgeous. She could see why Oberyn had fallen in love with her.

The Dornish couple wore clothes Liliane could only dream of. Their clothing was revealing and considered scandalous in Kings Landing. Ellaria’s gowns barely covered anything at all and the Prince’s robes often showed off a generous amount of his chest.

Liliane hated the gowns her mother put her in. They were stuffy and her stays left bruises on her ribs. Her hair was twisted into a complicated up-do that was starting to make her scalp hurt. She’d give anything to wear her hair loose.

“Don’t slouch. Sit up straight,” her mother said, snapping Liliane out of her thoughts.

Liliane blew a raspberry at her mother and took a sip of her wine.

Ellaria laughed.

“Something funny, my love?” Oberyn asked.

“I was merely admiring that adorable creature.” Ellaria pointed over at Liliane, who was practically pouting in her chair.

Oberyn chuckled. “She looks like she would rather be anywhere else.”

Liliane stood up and made her way outside and Oberyn took the opportunity.

He stood up and followed Liliane outside. “Beautiful night, no?” Oberyn asked her.

Liliane turned to him. “Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn noticed how she didn’t blush, nor did she bow to him. “Something wrong, little one?” he asked.

Liliane sighed and tugged at her dress. “It is hot and stuffy inside the banquet hall. I merely needed some…air.”

Oberyn approached her. “May I?”

Liliane was confused until Oberyn untied the back of her dress and expertly loosened her corset. Liliane took a deep breath of air.

“Better?” Oberyn asked.

Liliane nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Oberyn re-tied her dress. “I will never understand these Northern dresses. Far too much fabric.”

“Well we all can’t wear Dornish fashions.”

Oberyn smirked. “But it would make everything much easier.”

Liliane sighed. “I wish everything were as easy as it is in Dorne.”

Oberyn frowned. “What do you mean, little one?”

“You value women. They are seen as equals. Here, I might as well be property to be owned by my husband. He can do what he pleases with me. Sometimes I wish I was a man. Then I would have the freedom to roam the world. Do what I want. Learn what I want.”

“You can, little one. You can do whatever you choose. But you must be the one to make that choice. And women are amazing. You have the ability to give life. I have seen my Ellaria give birth to our four daughters and she is stronger than any warrior.”

Oberyn plucked a flower from a nearby bush and placed it behind Liliane’s ear. “Dorne can be your home if you choose. But you must choose it.”

Oberyn left her standing in the garden. He went back inside and sat down next to Ellaria. “I think we may have an extra occupant on our way back to Dorne,” Oberyn told her.

Outside, Liliane stared up at the stars. She wondered if the stars looked different in Dorne.

#oberyn/oc #oberyn martell #oberyn martell imagines #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #got #got imagines

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jackhues · 3 months

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meet rowan (pricey shots and brick wolls au!)

rowan price, niece of nhl goaltender carey price, was born on october 24th, 1998 to carey price's older brother noah price (oc) and his wife of the time, anna price.

pre-rowan notes:

noah price is the older brother of carey price by ten years, making him 46 years old at the start of this au. he was born in vancouver, b.c., and began playing hockey since he could walk. he loved all positions, but he usually played forward. there were a few years where he had to play defense, and he was okay at it. because of that, he missed some of his developmental years, and wasn't good enough to be a professional hockey player (he was good at forward, he could play defense, but he didn't have anything he excelled that)

noah tried to be very present in his siblings' lives because he was much older than them and he was scared to miss out on their lives. carey looked up to him a lot growing up.

noah and anna met in high school, married soon after, and had rowan at around 21/22. she has three little brothers: jadon (2 years younger than her), harley (4 years younger than her), and riley (8 years younger than her).

rowan notes

rowan moved to montreal when she was really young, when her uncle began playing for montreal, because her dad decided to follow him there. they went back to b.c. for the summers, but she went to school in montreal and can speak french fluently.

she gets along very well with her uncle carey, he's about 11 years older than her. she grew up shooting pucks against him, which they both say made them better players (carey says she's an excellent shooter, and rowan says he's the best goalie)

she grew up playing center, and can play wing, but prefers center (she likes faceoffs). rowan became well known for being carey price's niece when she was around 10 years old. everyone thought she was going to be the next best goalie, until they realized she played center, which threw them for a loop.

but then her stats were released, and media began reporting the next greatest female hockey player. she was being compared to hayley wickenheiser, marie-philip poulin - even players like ovi, with the way her shot and quick release was. she kept her socials private (still has those accounts) and made specific public accounts to share with the public.

she went viral on tiktok, becoming a sort of influencer on instagram/tiktok by the time she was 20/21.

at 19 years old, she was invited to team canada's hockey camp for the pyeongchang 2018 winter olympics and made the roster as the youngest player on the team. she scored 8 goals in total, one hat-trick, and had four assists. she ended the olympics having the most points in the tournament, but team canada fell short to the u.s. in the finals.

after finishing high school, she began studying at uoft, playing for their women's hockey team. she was also playing professionally for the toronto furies for two years while studying because it was the only thing she could do. after the cwhl failed, when she was 20, she ended up signing a contract with the toronto six. she continued her studies at uoft and played for the varsity blues as well.

some said it was a lot of hockey, but rowan was scared to drop any of it - just in case women's hockey stopped being a thing one day.

she called her uncle a lot during that time, talking about her fears for her future in hockey. she put aside so many things to focus on hockey, and she wasn't even sure she would be able to play professionally forever.

the first year that joseph played for the toronto marlies, rowan was invited (along with some other players of the toronto six) to help with drills and practice. they had fun, going against each other and trying to outplay the other. after the practice session, she went to joe and was like "something about your play is so familiar, but i can't place it." and joe laughs, going, "well i modeled a lot of my play after carey price - everyone's seen him play." and rowan stares at him and just smiles bcz he has no idea how often she's seen carey price play.

and their story goes from there!

rowan was the first free agent to sign with pwhl toronto (before the draft). she was so excited that she was able to stay in the city that had recently become a home to her. and she's been going off ever since the season started.

she's pretty known, even outside of hockey (queen) - and joseph supports her all the time.

general au notes:

jadon, harley, and riley all play hockey, but none of them except riley are interested in going pro. jadon's actually an nba player for the new york knicks, and harley's in university for mechanical engineering (wants to work in f1). riley plays defense and he's 17 right now, entering his draft year this year. he's projected to go high in the draft.

rowan's best known for her clutch/pricey shots, which she almost never misses. she has a very good eye and is good at controlling the puck. she can get goals at the most needed moments - and even if it looks like it's complicated/coming at a pricey time, she's great at going through with it

rowan and joe practice against each other all the time, and riley joins them occasionally too

this exists in the same au as my other three main aus

THANK YOU to everyone who sent stuff in and helped me out, i love all of you <3 i wish i could make an au with every single idea you guys sent in because they were all amazing! sorry if i couldn't get your ideas, but i hope you know i appreciate all of you :))

#pricey shots and brick wolls! au #naqia's au's!

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missbunmuffin · 18 days

Text

More punch out head canons

Tw: talk about weight issues

Less serious tw: ocs and cringe

What me putting my shitty ocs in these posts is like. I made posts about both of them probably gonna say this kind of stuff every time I post these kind of things but I don’t want people to be too confused.

Glass Joe

- Grew up in a catholic home but now as an adult doesn’t practice the religion really. He will eat meat on a Friday during lent. He doesn’t know what the fuck he is now he just considered himself spiritual or just a really bad catholic(not self projecting lmao)

- His family wasn’t really religious they only went to church sometimes but his mom wanted to do the no eating meat on Fridays during lent thing for some reason

- His sister just drops her kids off at his house randomly most of the time on Wednesdays because apparently French children only have like half a day of school those days(could be wrong) he loves his nieces but he hates when his sister just drops them off without warning because he has a life too.

- He loves silk textures. I feel like his boxing shorts are just really silky too

- Deadass walking around the locker room in a robe with a towel over his head after he’s done in the shower I drew an example back in like December

Yes that’s the same robe he’s wearing in the pity party drawings I made

- Protective over his hair but he doesn’t mind if people touch it as long as they ask and are gentle

- His hair is also pretty soft and he takes good care of it to prevent further damage from when he bleached it himself and a chunk fell out.

- Into Rococo art. I took a humanities class at the beginning of the year and looked into the rococo art movement a bit and apparently it’s French so I always thought he would like that kind of stuff.

- uses a lavender sleep spray

- tries not to get too angry in public. Sometimes he just needs to leave the room to just pout and let it all out sometimes even crying out of anger

- has quite the collection of sweaters and cardigans.

- Loves baking cookies for his girlfriend Eleanor. Shes a baker herself but she loves his cookies more than her own

Von Kaiser

- Cuts his own hair this fucking video is literally him

- secretly a cross dresser I mean this one might be kind of canon because of the weird chibi drawing of him in a Japanese manual for the nes game. Some of the other ones were so racist though ;-;

- Wasn’t really interested in working with children it just sort of happened

- Either way he cares about his students genuinely even if it doesn’t seem like it

Disco kid

- got banned on Roblox for a day for saying suck toe(totally not based on my cousin who is like the same age as him also getting banned for that) yes I’m sharing this drawing again

- Singing as loud as possible in the locker room showers

- If he has kids they aren’t going anywhere near the mall Easter bunnies and Santa’s he doesn’t trust them and neither should you

- He never hits the villagers with nets in animal crossing

- Has two sisters one older one younger

Aran Ryan

- Afraid of needles

- Has weight issues. He’s too focused on numbers on the scale. He knows nothing is wrong but I think some things the people around him said growing up affected him.

- I mentioned his sister Freya also has body issues in my post about her and Aran tries to support her because he doesn’t want her thinking that way about her body like he does. I imagine a lot of the women on his father’s side are naturally more curvy and he doesn’t want his sister to be ashamed of her natural body type.

- Still visits his grandmas house on his dad’s side even as an adult. He’s one of the only things she has of his dad that she has left.

- Plays Roblox with Disco kid and forces Narcis to play with them. He also bullies kids on there

- His mom was struggling fanatically a bit when his sister was about to go into secondary school. He just got into boxing at that point and was getting paid well so he paid for her school uniforms so she didn’t have to be stuck in his old ones that were too big and had rips in the pants that would probably fall down on her. He insisted he’d at least buy her some skirts because she’s not walking around school like that. He also felt bad because she literally cried at the thought of wearing a “boys uniform”

Narcis Prince

- Was like one of those rich British kids in tv shows and movies.

- He snoops in people’s shit all the time. Looking through drawers and reading peoples diaries.

- Would say British schools are crazier than American schools and than flip out at the stories in American schools and regret what he said instantly

- Tries to look after Freya to get on Aran’s good side. They have a complicated relationship. Deadass tries to put her to bed at 8:00 saying some shit like “young ladies your age need to be in bed by 8:00”

Okay this is getting long I’ll stop now

#punch out #punch out headcanons #punch out oc #glass joe #von kaiser #disco kid #aran ryan #narcis prince

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otwdfanfic · 1 month

Note

Oh and also 7 so you can indulge in talking about your ocs (the beloved beans)!! <333

I ended up busy all day yesterday so I decided to add some little drawings to spice up my reply <3 I'm gonna resist yapping about Baldur and Cato for this one, and I'm gonna save our sweet Bjorn and Eret for later yaps. Instead I decided to focus on some other dragon hunter OCs!

People who have read OTWD might remember Sikka for her antler hood or nadder spear, but under the hood she's got incredible tattoos called tunniit. Tunniit are part of the Inuit tattooing tradition that Eret’s tattoos were inspired by. In real life they’re typically seen on women, and these days a lot of women are getting them again to keep their traditions alive, so I decided that based on Eret’s I would give each northern tribe their own kakiniit that identify their tribal affiliation and family. Since our httyd northern tribes live in the Arctic between Greenland and Russia, I figure the tradition probably spread from Greenland! The forehead portion is similar triangle shape for everyone in Sikka’s tribe and represent antlers (there might be variations in exact design based on the family). The chin portion represents one's individual role or honors a family member. Sikka's represents a herder tracking the hoofprints of a reindeer, and her mother had the same. She belongs to the Reindeer Tribe of Reindeer Valley, near Griselda's Fortress and was only 16 when she joined Cato's crew (she's ~21 in OTWD). Griselda refused to hire her at first bc her mother had ended up in a terrible, fatal conflict with one of Griselda's top men that caused controversy between her tribe and the hunting operation, but Cato insisted on giving her a chance. He's extremely proud of her skill and loyalty, and she loves him like a brother, so betraying him in OTWD was not an easy decision. The moment he realizes Sikka's abandoned him is when he decides our heroes have really got to pay, bc he hasn't just lost a payday or even his second chance with Gustav but also his horned shadow. I'm SO excited to see her again in Into the Polar Night, she's going to have a very important role and I think it'll surprise everyone. Hopefully it won't be too long before I post a playlist for her <3

The other two OCs here will only appear in Gustav's short which is tentatively titled How To Hunt Your Dragon LOL

Ragnall is the quartermaster of the Goregutter, the first hunting ship that Gustav and Cato work on, and he's essentially Gustav's boss despite not being much older than him. He manages the ship and deck for the captain Harald Bloodaxe, who handles the business side like choosing where to port and hunt. Ragnall does hunt dragons but he doesn't manage the dragon hold where they're kept, that's up to a slavic man named Wyrmhart (Cato's boss). His mother was the witch Skuld, and he grew up working whaling boats in Thunderhead Bay, and some of the men grumble that he practices witchcraft. He's strict but generally fair, and likes Gustav just because he's a high quality sailor relative to a lot of the hunters. On the other hand, he despises the mainland vikings who are converting to christianity and their christian Saxon neighbors, so he's particularly prejudiced against Cato, who barely even speaks fluent norse at this point (if he'd bother to ask, he'd learn that Cato isn't a christian, but you know how prejudices are). Ragnall is pretty important to the overall OTWD series for a few different reasons actually, so I can't wait to write his story. I think everyone will find it shocking and fun hehe >:)

Siraj is the 19 year old son of an extremely wealthy trade lord from Marrakesh who pays to bring a lot of Griselda's cargo through the Mediterranean. He's apprenticing under Harald and Ragnall to learn the ropes (literally) of sailing and managing a trade business because his father wants him to have practical knowledge before taking over the business, since he's been raised in a very privileged and comfortable life. He went to university in Marrakesh, so he speaks multiple languages and really boggles Gustav's mind with his knowledge haha. He's really sociable and is Gustav's first friend on the Goregutter, they have a fun gang of friends. The only thing he's not involved with is the actual dragon hunting, since that has nothing to do with running a trade empire. He does go home after his time on the Goregutter so he isn't involved in the plot of ITPN or TOTG, but I imagine that he keeps traveling all over the Silk Road and making friends everywhere before taking over his dad's business.

Whew that was some MAJOR yapping but I'm so glad for the chance to talk about some of my dragon hunters. A lot of the hunters are just background people to me, like the background Berserkers, and I don't really consider them OCs, but these three definitely are <33 my actual reaction to this ask:

#httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd ocs #dragon hunters #griselda the grievous #gustav larson #sikka #ragnall #siraj #me not giving actual vikings like Ragnall giant facial hair is a crime I’m sorry. I will try to do better #character design

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pomegranateboba · 3 months

Text

ArTw OC

i finally got my lazy ass onto picrew to make my OC guys i hope yall are proud of me

This is my OC (read self-insert) guys her name is Nicole

In her early 20s

Birthday is 17 February

Half Korean and half British, but lives in Korea

Juggles all 6 boys like some sort of harem (she has given up on choosing one)

"Summoner please don't do that" *proceeds to do exactly that*

174cm tall (5'8.5)

very bisexual (wishes there were more women)

You have chosen to keep reading. I hope you like reading because I have never written a longer post before.

Relationships with the boys:

Arcturus:

"guys he a lil clementine i love him"

She can crochet, so she made a crochet orange for him once

Protects him from Sirius

"rawr arcky" "...thank you Summoner?"

Likes hanging around him, because he's very approachable

Sneaks him out of work whenever his clan mates drag him to work, whether he likes it or not

Takes care of plants with him

Spared from her constant roasting

Her heart explodes whether he speaks

Spica:

First interaction: "Are you Rapunzel?" "Excuse me?"

"guys he won't let me braid his hair :("

Respects Spica a lot, because he's responsible (unlike her)

For his birthday, she has given him a chameleon named Pascal

Pascal now sits on his shoulder

Getting Spica out of work using force doesn't work, so she resorts to guilt tripping (it always works)

Alpheratz:

Nods in approval every time he prioritizes sleeping.

Likes taking naps with him whenever possible

*pointing at Alpheratz asleep under a tree* "eepy."

Lets him lean on her

"guys he keeps calling me short." "But you are"

"Why does his grandpa keep shipping us wtf"

Crochets a whole fucking blanket for this man

Sometimes points Spica in the wrong direction when he asks where Alpheratz is

Watches them fight like it's a K-drama (has snacks on her)

"It's like that scene in Harry Potter guys, except Sirius and Remus are Spica and Alpheratz and I'm Snape."

Pollux:

First impression: very squishable

Current impression: still very squishable

Absolutely adores Pollux

Flexes that she is like 2cm taller than him

"Short." "i'n nOT THAT SHORT-" "Short."

Her, Poll and Arcky are almost always seen together, and if they're not (Summoner gone), something is wong

"Or maybe I'm just with someone else." "BUT YOU KEEP DISAPPEARING"

Let's Pollux drag her out (away from Sirius)

Keeps snacks on her so that she and Poll can share

Vega:

"Vega my beloved"

Thinks it is very fun to tease Vega, considering he gets flustered very easily

Though she has toned down the flirting by a lot when Vega actually passed out once (very canon)

Looks up at Vega like ":3" and he replies "...how do you say that out loud?"

"He's very cute" (canon)

*pap paps his head*

Knows he is very overprotective, and constantly assures Vega that she will be fine. He doesn't believe her.

Vega is also spared from her constant roasting

Very affectionate to Vega, solely because he's always so worried about her.

Sirius:

"Sirisus T-T"

"Summoner, I got you a new bottle of shampoo since your old one seems to be running out :)" "How did you get into my room"

Is unable to keep Sirius out of her room, no matter how many locks and charms she places on her doors and windows.

Lets Sirius take her out (in all 3 ways, simply because)

She very much enjoys watching him perform.

Joins in when he starts practicing his acting skills out of the blue.

Has figured out how to read Sirius (works 90% of the time). Sirius doesn't understand how she does it.

Despite being a deep sleeper, she knows whenever someone (Sirius) has found their way into her room (most of the time)

Thinks Sirius is extremely hot and that therefore cancels out half his sins (emphasis on half)

*after a few hours* "wait...how did he know I was running out of shampoo?"

Personal stuff:

"where are all the women at?" (cue Sirius transforming into a woman)

Downbadussy. (no i shall not explain)

"Alpheratz is sleeping under a tree again." "...I almost asked what a tree was." "Nicole what the fuck."

Has a whole 3 friends in Mid Earthium. They do k-pop dance covers together (I might talk more about them if yall want.)

Bullies little kids on Minecraft.

Has like 100 Minecraft axolotls

Enjoys drawing (both digital and traditional art)

Sucks at sugarcoating her words

"Oh my stars I'm so stupid." "For real."

Her closet at home is like something out of a Pinterest board

Is very strong mentally, which is good because the life of a Summoner is very traumatic.

Is eerily calm because of that. It makes even Sirius uncomfortable

Hyperfixation. She now knows things ranging from the evolution of frogs to various medieval torture methods.

Keeps a pen in her pocket for self defense

"It passes airport security." "...why are you like this."

Either sleeps for 25 hours a day or doesn't sleep at all.

Her staple foods are water and bubble tea.

Can withstand cold, but instantly dies when it becomes too hot.

"It's so hot here." "My apologies, Summoner." "...I hate you."

#wow long post guys #do yall want me talk about nicole's friends back in mid earthium #comment it down below #stop why do i sound like a youtuber #arcana twilight #arcana twilight OC #arcana twilight summoner #arcana twilight sirius #arcana twilight pollux #arcana twilight spica #arcana twilight arcturus #arcana twilight alpheratz #arcana twilight vega

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silly-sirenz · 2 months

Note

Hii!!

Just saw your match-ups are opened,and I was looking for one for Hazbin hotel,So I guess I was really lucky!!

Your blog seems really silly (the Rosie aesthetic is just EVERYTHING OMG <33)

Anyways,my name is Nina,but you can call me N,Weewoo and other names :3

I use she/they pronouns,I'm a bisexual (I feel like a have a slighttttt male preference,but omg women <33)

I have a very crazy attitude lol ToT

Overall,I'm very energetic and happy person- I love colors (i only dress in bright flashy colors and if you see me in black something is wrong/j),my favorite is pink! I'm a bit loud (even obnoxious sometimes help) and I feel like i act like a golden retriever on sugar- but I (hope I) can be comforting and calm when needed. I'm also a bit of a nerd in things I like (aren't we all sometimes?).

I like to call people some endearing names platonically (dearie,darling,dear,love,lovely...)

But,I can get frustrated easily and sometimes snap at people when I'm without people close to me or have too much work,get into fights and start to overthink and stress about it :(

I like people,but crowds get overwhelming because I don't know those people,they might be judging me and ajfenwvsbee. I like a group of people I know,you get me?

I love to draw and write (i love writing personal stories of my ocs interacting with canon). Again,I love colors <33. I like to make covers with my friends,too!

And I am a Libra ENFP :3

I hope that isn't too much info ^^''

Anyways,I hope you have a very nice day,dearie,and stay proud!!

-Nina ⭐️

Hellooooo. Thank you, I'm glad you like ny aesthetic 🖤

I'm terms of matchups, I'm going to match you with...

🎉MIMZY🎉

●Mimzy needs someone who can keep up and match her energy. And whilst she flirts alot, she's quite picky when it comes to partners.

● However, your bubbly personality sets you apart from the crowd in her eyes.

● You go to her club, looking for a fun night on the town.

● The dancing is old fashioned and looks a bit odd, but everyone seems to be partying like there's no tomorrow. You just have to get involved!!

● Mimzy notices you in the crowd. It looks like you could do with some help on your swivel, so she comes over and gives you some pointers.

● She wasn't expecting you to pick things up so quickly. Before she knows it, you're the only one with enough energy to keep up with her on the dancefloor.

●The two of you grow very close from that point. You're practically inseperable, always partying together.

● She picks out matching outfits for the two of you for parties. There's a lot of pink and a LOT of sparkles.

● Then one night, after a couple of drinks bossting your confidence, you kiss her on the dancefloor.

● Your heart stops when she pulls back. You start profusely apologising, claiming that you don't know what came over you.

● But instead of the rage or disgust you had expected, she starts laughing.

"How long have you wanted to do that?"

"...A long time." You barely utter over the music.

● Suddenly, she dips you down to the floor in her arms.

"Well then dearie, we have a lot to catch up on~"

#hazbin hotel #matchups #mimzy #hazbin #x reader #hazbin hotel matchup

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darsynia · 1 year

Text

Modern Mythology | Ch1

(Tony Stark/OC; soulmate AU pre-Ultron, in 3 parts)

image from peakpx.com | gif from @anthonyed

Summary: Abigail Carson takes a chance on a second job as a courier in the hopes that it'll help her find her soulmate, whose words on her skin imply that he's signing for a package she delivers. When she hears the words spoken by Tony Stark, though, Abbi has second thoughts. She's practically a nobody!

Length: 3,974

MY MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon, @starksbf

Excerpt:

Abbi pulled out the small clipboard from her pocket, flipped to the blank back of the package acceptance template, and wrote a message on it, sideways, in large block letters.

‘I AM NOT YOUR SOULMATE IF I HAVEN’T SAID YOUR WORDS!’

She held it up for when he turned around from scaring away her ride back to work. It took a little while, because unbelievably, the taxi driver was congratulating Stark on such a momentous occasion. Finally, he hit the top of the taxi with his Iron Man gauntlet and the woman drove away. A black SUV pulled up in its place almost immediately. As soon as he saw her holding up the clipboard, Stark came over to read it, standing too close for her comfort.

Abbi made the mistake of watching his face as he read. He’d walked over with an amused confidence, but a wall of defensiveness seemed to rise up in his expression and he looked her right in her eyes as soon as he finished reading.

“What, the giant tower and superhero suit didn’t go in the ‘Pros’ column?”

Chapter One: Goddess Observed

When Abigail’s mother pressed her to find her soulmate, Abbi had no idea that she’d learn that there was an underground courier culture in New York City. Her job at Vail & Nysa was great, even though she’d always wanted to finish her law degree, but there would be time for that someday. For now, being a paralegal was close enough, and it had unexpectedly opened up a secondary opportunity.

Apparently, there were levels of being a courier. Abbi had thought that she’d end up picking up and dropping off things in lobbies here and there on her way to work and on her lunch break. But as soon as she walked into the downtown office of You Send Me, the receptionist took one look at her professional clothing and sent her upstairs. There wasn’t a receptionist there, just a clipboard with names that had been blacked out as they were seen, it looked like. Hoping this wasn’t a secret first step to a fifty-step process of earning a job at Google she didn’t intend on taking, Abbi wrote down Abigail Carson and sat down to wait with her hands in her lap. Work had been a half day anyway, so she had the time to find out what kind of mysterious chance she might be given.

It took almost a half hour. She (of course) didn’t check her watch, certain that that would be noticed. The longer she sat, the more Abbi was consumed with curiosity. As much as she could, though, she kept her green eyes trained on a spot on the wall in front of her, and tried not to touch the chignon her shoulder-length brown hair was styled into. Inside, her mind swirled with possibilities. Outside, she was the picture of a calm, collected young woman.

“Ms. Carson?” The speaker was an older woman garbed in rich purple and covered with jewelry. Sometimes Abbi really loved when New York City lived up to its mythos.

As it turned out, You Send Me had a higher-end courier business whose employees were hand-picked and mostly consisted of young women dressed as if for the boardroom or court. At its heart, Courier and Ives was, Mrs. Violet Walsingham told Abbi, a business trying to cater to companies who didn’t want a disruptive, enthusiastic young delivery person in street clothes bopping in to deliver something sensitive or vital in nature.

That was when Abbi asked point-blank if it was a disguised escort service. Mrs. Walsingham cackled and begged her to sign up, even if she only delivered packages once a week. She told Abbi that while yes, professional young women rarely had the chance to meet men outside their own office during work hours, and Courier and Ives did end up facilitating that sometimes, their reputation as a courier service was impeccable.

Abbi showed the woman her soulmark, confessed her reasons for applying, and was told she was exactly the kind of young woman they were looking for.

Her mother was full of delight when Abbi told her about what happened. Demi Carson had lived an adventurous life, and she was always encouraging Abbi to live hers to the fullest as much as possible. Their family vacations were always to as exotic a location as they could afford, the schedule packed with anything that looked unique and challenging. They hadn’t always felt safe but they’d always had a good story to tell later.

Secretly, Abbi had always wondered if her mom had married Atticus Carson because his name was unique. Her father had been dour but loving, and any fights she’d ever observed had stemmed from a conflict of personalities. That conflict was embodied in Abbi herself in many ways-- she was adventurous but economical, free-spirited as much as possible while still grounded in the here and now. If it was within her budget and didn’t risk her future, Abigail Carson liked taking a chance on something exciting.

Courier and Ives was right up her alley. She couldn’t wait to start.

Her biggest hope was that she’d run into her soulmate, who would be an up-and-coming executive type with a head for business and a heart for taking a few measured chances. Her biggest fear was that her soulmate would actually turn out to be a big-spender, big-risk type of guy whose lifestyle would fill her with the kind of dread she watched her father deal with when her mother was in one of her moods. Before they’d lost him to a heart attack, her father had told her he’d loved his life, and the only thing he would have changed was perhaps trying to temper his wife’s most grandiose tendencies. Abbi’s soulmark did imply that the speaker would be someone who wouldn’t ordinarily take deliveries, but she didn’t worry about that too much. If he was her soulmate, they were made for each other, and it would be worth it, just like her parents’ marriage was. They’d been soulmates too.

By a month into the job, Abbi was starting to enjoy the excited rush she felt every time she walked up to a man to hand over a discreet package. Her soulmate words had turned a job that already let her observe various exclusive offices and meetings into an exciting chance at a new life! She got a message every few days, though today had been day four since her last one. When she stopped by on her lunch hour to pick it up, she was surprised to see that it was to Avengers Tower.

The re-named Stark Tower was a different kind of ‘exclusive’ than the expensive, chic office spaces that Courier and Ives women were often sent to. There wasn’t just a chance at running into a wealthy executive there, but also bona-fide superheroes. It was a plum job, and Abbi was the newest employee. She asked Mrs. Walsingham if there had been a mistake.

“No mistake, sweetheart! We accepted delivery of this item from a confidential source and it needs to be run over to the tower. You’re the only one with availability in the next hour. If Minthe Lawson gives you grief about it, you come to me, got it?” The kindly old lady gave Abbi a once-over. “That gold-colored suit is absolutely stunning. One of Stark’s favorite colors, I hear!”

Inwardly, Abbi winced. Anthony Stark was one person she would be happy to miss seeing-- as handsome as he was, the man was a walking PR disaster. Reportedly, he’d been building some kind of robot army after his girlfriend and CEO of his company had left him a few months ago. Just being an unfamiliar young woman in his general proximity would probably be enough to get his attention nowadays, or so the tabloids said, much less wearing his favorite color. Her mother had bought her the suit jacket and miniskirt set, and always loved seeing her wearing it for work. There were few opportunities where she could wear it, because paralegals were to be seen and not heard, at her firm (and she preferred it that way), but today was a celebration for a successful win of the case she’d been working on, and Abbi had made an exception. The skirt was shorter than she was used to, too.

Gritting her teeth, she left, hoping she’d get through Avengers Tower without running across its most famous resident. The object looked like a suitcase, but after the incident at Monaco Abbi knew that an object going to Stark Industries could be anything disguised as anything. Her credentials got her through the door just fine, and she was sent up to the 72nd floor to a conference room.

She tapped lightly on the door and it opened inward. Slowly, Abbi walked into the doorway, where she was faced with all of the Avengers, at least the ones she could recognize.

“Tony, a scared-looking delivery girl is here with the suitcase you had made for the scepter,” a man dressed all in black said. He smiled at her in a kindly sort of way, turning around to call for Stark again. On his back was an actual quiver full of arrows.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, I could probably give this to any one of you?” Abbi said desperately. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the card with the instructions. “Yes. Avengers or associated staff. I’ll just--” she turned to look for someone much more junior and less busy to hand the object off to.

“Found him,” the archer sing-songed.

Abbi stopped short. With a pasted-on smile, she turned around and was faced with Tony Stark. He was dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans, and he must have been laughing with one of the other people in the room before being called over, because his smile was bright, genuine, and devastating. Abbi had always thought he was handsome in magazine pictures, read articles that called him charismatic, but she’d never seen such clear evidence of the difference between a picture and a person before.

Tony Stark was magnetizing, and she’d only been around him for three seconds so far.

For his part, Stark seemed to find her interesting as well, which was disconcerting for Abbi. He leaned his head back and regarded her, the initial brilliant smile on his face morphing into an impressed, pleased look.

“I wonder where Violet keeps finding so many respectable young women,” he said under his breath. Then, over his shoulder to another man, he added, “You’d think she would run out, after a while.”

Abbi had been trained to be polite, gracious, even accommodating, but she felt objectified, and it made her actions a bit stiff. She held out the suitcase with a strained, silent smile. He gestured to the table beside him for her to set it down, his eyes narrowing just a touch in recognition of her attitude. Stark was a tech genius, yes, but he bucked their trend of being awkward and unskilled with women. He could tell she disapproved of him. Abbi felt her face flush at the subtle rebuke, and pulled out a small clipboard for his signature. Apologizing would just make things worse.

“You didn’t expect me to be the one to sign for this, did you?” he asked as he bent over the flat surface to scribble his signature.

Abbi’s grip on the clipboard failed on hearing her soulmark words. Her heart started pounding and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms. It was as if his words had loosened the cork that had been holding back all possible reactions to hearing her soulmate’s first words, and in a fluke of fate, she was feeling all of them at once. Horror, excitement, attraction, repulsion.

Stark reached out quickly to steady the clipboard with his other hand as he finished signing, looking up at her quizzically.

If fate had decreed her soulmate was Tony Stark and she apologized for letting go, those would be the words written on his body somewhere. But what if it was a coincidence? Surely that phrase had been spoken before and would be again? Abbi dipped her head in a silent goodbye, pressed her lips together in case she accidentally said something, and turned to go, moving quickly to escape the situation.

“Hey, Cleopatra in the gold suit! Gonna need this.”

She stopped a foot from the elevator button, and Stark walked over to hand her the clipboard, looking a bit regretful to give it back, for some reason. Abbi took it, pulling out the side of her jacket to tuck it into the inside pocket. She felt dizzy, almost like she was observing herself from the outside, and some of that must have shown on her face.

“You all right? Here,” he said, reaching out to tap the button for the elevator. “Look at me,” Stark commanded, and she let out a quick breath to steady herself before lifting her eyes to his. “Green!” he said with a slow, pleased smile. Abbi had to fight back a feeling of pride, as if it should matter whether this man liked the color of her eyes. “Well, Emerald Eyes, you seem to be experiencing Superhero Swoon, which is understandable after being confronted with a room full of them. I’m happy to offer a manful shoulder should you so require?”

Abbi shook her head right as the elevator doors opened, offering an apologetic smile as she scurried inside.

“No name, not even for the review?”

She shook her head again.

“Silent rabbit mode it is, then. I’ll just have to have something else delivered. Until next time!” Stark said with an impish grin just as the doors closed.

“Oh my God, that did not just happen. Please tell me that did not just happen!” Abbi said out loud to the empty elevator, groaning. “It was a fluke. That’s what it was. It only counts if I say his words back, and I am not going to, because there’s no way in hell that Tony Stark is my soulmate. Nope!” A voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like her mother’s pointed out that he was wealthy, handsome, and a certified genius, but most importantly, not in any way boring! Abbi had quite a lot of experience ignoring her mother’s voice in her head, however. Where most women heard their mother’s voice criticizing them, hers was like the impulsive devil on her shoulder.

It was practically inconceivable that someone of Stark’s stature would be unbonded at his age anyway. And he’d just broken up with his long-term girlfriend. The man had clearly not been concerned with finding his soulmate and hadn’t been for years. As far as Abbi was concerned, if she was his soulmate, he never had to find out. She left the elevator, nodded to the front desk person, and walked outside. Her plan was to call a taxi and never set foot in the tower again.

She raised a hand for a taxi and saw one that had been idling at the corner a block away put on its turn signal. The driver waved at her, and Abbi waved back.

Suddenly, Iron Man came flying down from the top of the tower, landing on one knee in front of her before straightening up. The faceplate flipped up to show Tony Stark.

“So, funny thing about the elevators in my tower. They’re run by my AI, JARVIS, who likes to pass on any pertinent information spoken in his presence.” Stark’s brown eyes were bright, hopeful, and fixed on her. His demeanor was placating, holding out one hand as if begging her to stay put.

Abbi almost told him she was sorry but there was probably a mistake. Then she realized that if there wasn’t a mistake, those would be the words written on his body. He deserved better than that. He deserved a fancy celebrity soulmate, not a young woman looking at turning thirty with half of the goals she’d made at twenty still unfulfilled! So she shook her head at him and pointed at the taxi that pulled up right then.

To her immense frustration, Stark leaned over, mimed rolling down a window, and told the taxi driver that he and his soulmate were having a one-sided conversation, and to move on.

Abbi pulled out the small clipboard from her pocket, flipped to the blank back of the package acceptance template, and wrote a message on it, sideways, in large block letters.

I AM NOT YOUR SOULMATE IF I HAVEN’T SAID YOUR WORDS!

“What, the giant tower and superhero suit didn’t go in the ‘Pros’ column?”

Something inside her twisted up to hear the vulnerability in his tone. She ruthlessly suppressed them. This man wasn’t for her. It just wasn’t possible. Abbi tried to flip to a new page, but the one she’d just written on came loose. He stopped the small, square note card from flying away by stepping on it, then Stark leaned over and picked it up.

“Would you believe this thing doesn’t have pockets? Back to the drawing board,” he joked. It was impossible not to laugh. “Got you,” he said softly. Even as she was writing another message for him, Stark reached out and rested his gauntleted hand on the clipboard, then took it from her entirely. He glanced at what she’d started writing (‘I need to get back to work and you just took my ride!’) and nodded. “I called one of my guys, he’ll drive you wherever you want, and I made him promise not to tell me where, even.”

Abbi looked up at him in surprise. The vulnerability and defensiveness were still there, but there was stubborn amusement in his expression now, as well.

“You still need to be convinced,” he said. Abbi shook her head and looked at her watch. The office party would start in twenty minutes, and Stark looked like he had twenty minutes’ worth of arguing in him. “Listen,” he said, stepping even closer.

She crossed her arms to put a little distance between them, but the action emphasized the small bit of cleavage her blouse showed, and she saw him notice that. There was definitely a heat between them, but she was willing to ignore it. The man probably had heat with everyone, honestly.

Stark pointed between the two of them as he started speaking again. “You doubt this soulmate thing is real, but that doubt is a point in your favor. Do you know how many women would fake my words if they knew what they were? And here you are, you could say anything, and that’s what they’d be. Embrace the power, Iris.” He paused, clearly saw her brows furrowed in confusion, and added, “I don’t know if soulmate words change, but please don’t turn mine into a question about Greek mythology. Iris, female messenger to the Gods.” He grinned. “Feel free to say, ‘Does that mean you think you are a god?’ because that would be badass. I’d be happy to give up my current soulmark if that’s what the new one was.”

Abbi shook her head. She felt lightheaded again, but instead of dizziness, it was a kind of excited anticipation. He obviously was convinced they were soulmates, and despite herself, she was influenced by that a little bit. Her practicality won out, though. She was going to be late for work, and he was a billionaire. The sun was not destined to fall in love with a fluorescent lightbulb! Abbi stepped back from Stark, sighed, and walked over to the car.

He opened the door and ushered her in. “This is Happy Hogan, he’ll take you to work. Happy, we agreed you wouldn’t tell me anything she said, right?”

“Right,” the round-faced man in the front seat said.

“His AI monitors the car, doesn’t it?” Abbi asked Hogan.

“It sure does,” Hogan said, grinning at Stark.

“Traitor,” Stark said. He shifted his gaze to Abbi, and she could see admiration in it. “I like smart women. Even ones smart enough to want to stay far away from me.”

Before she could react to that, he stepped back, shut the door, and activated his suit, flying straight up and out of her line of sight.

“I wish I could re-do this entire day,” Abbi sighed, throwing her head back in the seat and closing her eyes tightly.

“I get that a lot,” Hogan said sympathetically. “Where can I drive you?”

“My mother used to always answer, ‘Crazy,’ but I think that’s the location I am currently leaving at the moment. How about the Solow Building?”

True to his word, Hogan delivered her to her workplace and didn’t even ask her name. His only concession to the strangeness of the situation was when he pulled up to the building and then turned to speak to her.

“I know you’ve got to make up your own mind, here, but I would be eternally grateful if you would just do one thing for me.”

Abbi eyed him warily. “What?”

“I’ve heard of soulmate words changing in very rare situations. I’ve seen his, so I know what you’re supposed to say, but if you could change them to, I don’t know, ‘Happy says you’re a good guy, so I guess we’re doing this’ or something like that--”

“Unlock the door?”

“Fair enough.”

The rest of Abbi’s day passed so normally that she managed to pretend that nothing had happened, right up until she walked in the door and saw her mom. She looked like she was having a good, calm day. Not the kind of day where she needed to stress out about something that momentous and world-changing. Abbi did her best to deflect questions, made them leftovers from the day before, and checked to be sure that her mom had taken all the pills she needed to before heading to her room to study up on the next case she’d be working on.

“Something happened today, didn’t it?”

Abbi looked up to see her mom in her doorway. “What makes you say that?” she asked, putting a bookmark in the tome she’d been reading.

“You usually relax when you come home. You take off the masks you had to wear to get through the day. Today, you’re still wearing them.”

“Something so bizarre happened today that I’m still processing it. I’ll tell you when I figure it out, okay?” Abbi confessed.

“Well, don’t wait too long. Clock’s ticking!” Demi Carson said, laying a dramatic wrist on her own forehead.

“You know, some mothers take a diagnosis like yours seriously, just saying,” Abbi laughed. Her mother had never taken anything seriously in her life, not if she could help it. That didn’t mean she was being irresponsible about it, just irreverent. It was equal parts frustrating and uplifting, depending on the day. The jury was out for how today was going to feel. They had a few weeks before the scan to see if her current treatment was effective. Even if it was, Abbi was grateful she’d moved back in to care for her, despite the rather dramatic role-reversals that happened between them sometimes.

“Some mothers never took their children out of the country. Some mothers haven’t even tried marijuana. Some mothers have the decency to move to the suburbs when they get old. I’m not some mothers.”

“You are not old, go to bed.”

“Yes, dear.”

Next chapter, Tony wages an all-out war to persuade Abbi that she should accept him as her soulmate.

#tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x oc #tony stark x original character #iron man fanfiction #iron man #iron man x oc #iron man x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #tony stark imagine #ocfairygodmother #fyeahsuperverseocs #soulmate au #romance

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mrprettywhenhecries · 6 months

Text

ghost stories

Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (OC) // Eddie Munson ✘ Lydia Bellamy (OC) // Robin Buckley ✘ Blossom Bellamy (OC)

⇾ w.c. 3.5k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairings, spooky stories, drinking, suggestive themes, but nothing explicit ⇾ a/n. a little halloween collaboration with @super-unpredictable98/@hawkinsglasscloset, featuring my Winnie and her Lydia and Blossom.

"Wow, great place to get murdered. Nice one, Win," Blossom huffed as Billy parked in front of the lonely cabin.

"Chicken!" Lydia teased. "What’re you scared of? This is the middle of nowhere, nobody will come here to kill you."

"That is precisely why someone might come here to kill me! I've never done drugs, I never drank alcohol or smoked, my organs are valuable!" Blossom cried.

“Oh, come on!” Win exclaimed, grinning as she got out, excited for their weekend away. “It’s not as bad as it looks!” she insisted, opening the door for Blossom.

"You're right... it's worse!" Blossom walked in and ran her finger over the mirror right by the door. "Not only is it creepy, it's filthy too. Only you guys can drag me to these things."

“It just needs a quick dusting, that’s all,” Win said with a shrug, opening the curtains to a cloud of dust.

“Don’t worry so much, B,” Robin said, joining her girlfriend inside, bringing their bags in. “We’re gunna have fun!”

"I hope so." Blossom softened seeing her girlfriend. " Anywhere is perfect with you."

Eddie’s van pulled up moments later, parking behind the Camaro. “Hey, guess I wasn’t as late as I thought I’d be,” he said, grinning excitedly as he jumped down from the driver’s seat.

"Hey, sexy!" Lydia called, rushing to greet her boyfriend, practically jumping into his arms.

“Hey, missed you,” Eddie exclaimed, lifting her off her feet, greeting her with a kiss.

"Missed you too!" Lydia took his arm once he set her back down. "I can't wait to have you holding me in front of the fire while we make s'mores."

“Mmm, sounds perfect,” Eddie mused, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Then we can go back to our room and have some fun,” he drawled, his hands slipping down to give her backside a squeeze.

"Aaah! You naughty boy!" Lydia giggled, giving his hair a little tug. "Come on, it's getting cold out here."

"Don't want my lady getting a chill now, do we?" Eddie asked, shutting the driver's side door and pulling open the side panel to unpack the supplies. "Can you help me carry in the food, babe?" he asked, handing her one of the large canvas bags while he grabbed the large cooler.

"Yeah, but that'll cost you a treat," Lydia winked before taking the bag to the cabin. "A special secret treat."

"Oh?" Eddie chuckled, tilting his head as he followed her inside.

"This place is awesome, so cozy," Billy mused as he brought his bag and Win's inside, joining the others.

“I knew you’d like it,” Win said, letting her eyes roam the room.

"Perfect place, nobody can hear you screaming my name," Billy whispered teasingly, leaning into her.

“Yeah, other than our friends,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, I have a feeling they’ll be a little too preoccupied to notice,” he replied with a smirk, pulling her down with him to the old dusty couch. "They'll be busy playing their own dirty games."

Win laughed, collapsing into his lap. "I guess that’s true," she agreed, fighting back a grin.

“It’ll be a nice break from everything,” Robin said, pressing a kiss to Blossom’s temple.

"A break from Steve," Blossom laughed, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. "I could use a warm shower."

"I hope his date goes well," Robin said. As much as she loved teasing Steve about his string of bad luck with women, she did hope he could find someone that made him as happy as Blossom made her. "Why don't you take a quick shower and we'll get a fire going," she offered.

"I hope so too, he's so nice, he deserves it," Blossom nodded, stealing a kiss and turning to find the bathroom.

"Have a nice shower," Robin called, giving Blossom's ass a soft smack as she walked away. "Okay, who wants to help me start a fire?" she exclaimed, heading for the hearth.

"I will," Billy offered, giving Win a quick snuggle a kiss to the tip of her nose before getting up to help Robin get wood for the fireplace.

Win scrunched her nose at him, sitting up to watch them, resting her chin in her hand as she let her eyes follow her boyfriend's ass.

Billy looked over his shoulder to find his girlfriend observing him. "Enjoying the view?" he teased.

"Always," Win replied, winking at him. "Do you guys need any help?" she asked, pushing herself up. "I think we got it," Robin answered, tucking her hair behind her ear as she added some wood slowly to the small flame that Billy had started.

Billy was gonna say something about letting the men take care of it, but he quickly held his tongue, remembering Robin wasn't a man and not wanting to offend her.

"What sort of treat would you like?" Eddie asked his girlfriend, dropping the cooler in front of the fridge to unpack it.

"Surprise me," Lydia grinned, taking the food from the bag and putting it on the counter.

Eddie smirked, handing her an ice cold beer. "That what you had in mind?" he teased, kicking the fridge door shut with his foot as he leaned across the counter.

"Shhhhh!" Lydia giggled, pressing her finger against his lips though she nodded in agreement.

Eddie grinned against her fingers before licking them teasingly and cracking the beer open. "You want any?" he asked.

"Yeah... but only if you give it to me," Lydia said pointedly, wetting her lips slowly.

Eddie glanced up at the others who were pretty distracted by the fireplace before taking a long draw from the can and pulling Lydia closer, his lips slotting with hers.

Lydia drank from his mouth, and though the beer was cold, warmth spread through her body, stemming from where her lips met his.

“You’re welcome, you looked parched,” Eddie chuckled, drinking some more for himself.

"I feel a lot better," Blossom announced as she left the bathroom, wearing a big fluffy robe and pajama bottoms.

Robin straightened when she heard her girlfriend, grinning proudly as she dusted off her hands. “Look, we’ve got fire!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the hearth as Blossom joined them.

“You guys are so handy,” Win laughed, pulling Billy back to the couch with her.

"You've seen nothing yet, wait until it's time to wash my car in the summer... you'll be drooling," he teased.

“I can’t wait,” Win murmured, tugging his shirt collar down to press a kiss to his collarbone.

"My hero!” Blossom cried, throwing her arms around Robin’s neck before lowering her voice to a whisper. “You're so hot when you do manual work.”

Robin chuckled. “The place feeling a little more welcoming now?” she asked.

"Definitely and it's nice and warm... you know, I could fall asleep out here in your arms," Blossom pulled her down to the couch as well.

“That sounds nice,” Robin murmured, breathing in the scent of Blossom’s shampoo.

“So what do we wanna do now?” Win asked, looking around at the others.

“Once it gets dark I say we play some drinking games and share a few ghost stories,” Eddie suggested, pitching his voice low as he wiggled his fingers ominously, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Oh come on, no ghost stories, I don't like attracting that sort of thing," Lydia groaned. "It's all bullshit anyway."

"Who's the chicken now, huh?" Billy laughed. "If you don't believe in them, there's no harm in telling a few."

“Yeah, c’mon Lyds, don’t be a buzzkill,” Win said, giving her friend a mischievous look.

“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll keep you safe,” Eddie teased, wrapping an arm around her.

"Fine, whatever, I don't believe in ghosts," Lydia insisted, rolling her eyes. "But just for the record, you all suck."

"Some of us more than others," Billy said, making a blowjob motion with his hand.

A laugh burst from Eddie at Billy’s innuendo and he pressed a wet kiss to Lydia’s cheek. “Got that right,” he agreed smugly.

Lydia stuck her tongue out before going back to the kitchen to heat up their dinner.

"Don't mind her, she doesn't like horror stories since our brother told her about something called Alice Human Sacrifice," Blossom laughed.

“Sounds spooky!” Robin said, tickling Blossom’s sides.

“Well, I’m excited. I like being scared,” Win said, stealing Eddie’s beer can to take a drink.

"It's just a silly tale Simon made up," Blossom laughed. "Our dad is always encouraging him to write more crazy stories."

"Who is Alice though?" Billy asked.

"Nobody," Lydia shrugged, offering each of them a plate of lasagna. "Simon made them up."

“So, what’s the story?” Win asked, accepting the food eagerly.

"There was once a little dream, and being afraid people would stop dreaming it, it decided to bring people to itself in a sort of wonderland," Blossom began, setting the tone as she slowly glanced at her friend’s faces. "Each person lured in was an Alice,” she explained. “The first Alice was a singer who was adored all over the land and that made him quite arrogant. Until one day a madman shot him, making a red blood rose bloom from his head."

"The second Alice were a pair of twins, a girl and a boy who were lured by their curiosity," Lydia continued, rolling her eyes. "But the land warped their vision and pit one against the other until they killed each other with their bare hands, never to wake from their deep slumber."

"Interesting," Win murmured, wondering if there was more or not.

"That would suck killing your twin..." Robin mumbled, chewing her lip.

"Yeah, I think killing anyone would be sorta bad, but especially your twin," Blossom ageed.

"It doesn't make much sense, but Simon is just like that..." Lydia huffed softly. "He watches too much anime."

"Yeah, that sounds like him," Win snorted, taking another bite of lasagna.

"Who wants a drink? I say it's time we really get this party started," Eddie exclaimed, glancing out the window, noticing how dark it was growing outside.

"I'll have a beer," Billy said, raising his hand nonchalantly.

"Me too," Lydia winked at her boyfriend.

"Yeah, same," Blossom nodded. "Oh! Did you guys read Tomie? It's a new horror manga that just came out in the Monthly Halloween magazine."

“Hon, I think you and Lyds are the only ones that have read that,” Robin pointed out with a grin while Eddie handed out several cans of beer.

"Ugh, people have no taste! This guy should be famous," Blossom huffed, taking her drink to go with her dinner.

"Maybe one day," Lydia agreed, taking a sip from her own can.

“Anyone else got any scary stories?” Robin asked, looking pointedly between Billy and Eddie.

“Oh, I do,” Eddie said, his grin widening. “But first I think we need a little ambiance,” he drawled, turning off the lights, leaving only the fire to see by.

"Oh, here we go..." Lydia breathed.

"Now it's getting good," Billy chuckled, reaching around behind Blossom and discreetly running his fingers up her back like a spider, making her scream.

"ASSHOLE!" She cried.

"Billy!" Win chastised, giving his shoulder a shove as Robin stuck her tongue out at him, pulling Blossom into her arms to comfort while Eddie plopped down on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"So..." he began, waiting to make sure all eyes were on him, a feral grin on his face. "It was a dark, cold night, much like this one--" he said, glancing around the room from under his long bangs. "--and a group of friends, much like us, decided to camp in the middle of the woods. They were having a fun time, everything was going well, until night fell--" he said, his voice dipping low.

"How surprising," Lydia snorted; she knew his storytelling skills were off the charts. She’d seen him as the dungeon master for his epic campaigns and she loved it.

"What happened when it got dark?" Blossom asked.

Eddie turned his grin on Blossom, glad to see she, at least, was hooked, while Robin looked vaguely uneasy and Win was watching him intently.

“The moon came out from behind the clouds and shone down brightly, its light filtering through the foliage to the forest floor beneath. A couple of the group decided to go get some more firewood and they ventured out further along one of the trails. Soon they came upon several dead animals,” he said, pausing for effect. “However, they could see no apparent cause of death, no blood or wounds, no sign of attack, and yet there were more than one, spread out along the trail.”

Lydia put aside her fear and skepticism and decided to enjoy the story as if it wasn't a load of wank. "That's... intriguing," she murmured, curious to know what was causing the deaths.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at her, determined to at least give her the heebie jeebies.

“Unsettled, the couple hurried back to their campsite, telling the others what they saw, but their friends dismissed it, laughing at them for being too jumpy.” Here Eddie paused to take a drink, exhaling deeply before continuing.

“All seemed to be back to normal, the friends drinking and partying late into the night, when a twig snapped nearby and the rustling of leaves announced something approaching. The friends jumped to their feet, their hearts in their throats as their eyes swung to the sound. Moments later a deer came into the clearing and stopped, its ears perking up as it froze. The friends watched it, not wanting to startle it, when suddenly, it fell to the ground, dead. Nothing having touched it,” he exclaimed.

Lydia took Blossom's hand; now both sisters were hooked and slightly disturbed by the image formed in their minds. Billy on the other hand, saw where the story was headed and was already planning a little stunt that would for sure freak the girls out.

“Oh shit—“ Win breathed, slipping her arm around Billy’s, as she leaned into him, though her focus was all on Eddie. Eddie, however, noticed the glint in Billy’s eye and nodded to him before continuing.

“Now thoroughly spooked, several of the teens began to wonder if they should leave or find a new spot to camp, but the others argued, not wanting to pack up camp in the middle of the night. Besides, they figured the strange animal deaths were probably caused by some sickness or maybe poison they had gotten into.

“Talked into staying, at least for the night, everyone went to sleep, crawling into their tents. The next morning, when one of the girls awoke to take a piss in the woods, she tripped over a large dark shape not far from the smoking fire pit. At first it appeared to be a pile of clothes, but upon further inspection, it was one of her friends, their body cold and eyes wide open and staring.”

"What was it? How did they die?" Lydia exclaimed, jumping slightly when she saw a shadow pass by the window. "I saw someone! There's something out there!" she cried, pointing toward the dark window pane.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Billy huffed dismissively, winking at Eddie.

“You’re just jumping at shadows!” Robin exclaimed, though her voice wavered, rising in pitch as her eyes darted to the window. Eddie’s grin widened and he leaned in closer to finish off the story, enjoying the way he had them in the palm of his hand.

“As soon as the girl realized what she’d tripped over, she screamed, scrambling away from the body. But by the time the others roused from their tents, alerted by her cry, she too was already dead, not a mark on her.

“Frightened senseless, her friends ran, fleeing into the woods, chased by an unseen attacker. And one by one, their screams too were silenced, and to this day, no one knows what happened to them, their bodies never found.” Eddie’s voice was near a whisper now and the flames behind him danced, casting eerie shadows against the walls of the cabin.

“Now, there are some who think the mysterious deaths of the teens and the animals were caused by a toxic airborne chemical leak, but others, others say it was the work of an old hermit who lived deep in the woods, hidden away from the world, who conversed with spirits and demons. They say he could steal your soul just by touching your shadow.”

"Your shadow? That's... um, that's stupid," Lydia said, clearing her throat, but she screamed when she heard a knock on the window.

There was no one there except for a tree branch that looked a bit like a hand.

"Who's there?" Blossom asked, seeing another dark figure flashing past the opposite window.

"I’ll go check," Billy said, disentangling himself from Win’s grasp before getting up and slowly walking to the window.

“Billy, wait—“ Win began, her words dying on her tongue as he peered through the glass, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open in a silent gasp before he suddenly collapsed.

“Billy?” Win called, frozen in place on the couch, fear clutching her chest.

“Oh haha, very funny, Billy,” Robin said, her voice slightly hoarse.

“Yeah, very funny,” Lydia agreed, though there was an edge to her voice.

Eddie, however, jumped to his feet and hurried across the room, dropping to knees and leaning over Billy, listening.

“He’s not breathing!” he exclaimed, and Win shared a frightened look with Lydia and Blossom.

“Eddie, watch out!” Robin exclaimed when she saw the shadow of a hand silhouetted through the window, its thin fingers reaching toward Eddie’s shadow on the floor behind him.

"Eddie!" Lydia shrieked, jumping and tackling him, rolling with him to a darker corner. "Fuck! Stop playing, it's not funny!"

"Stop messing around, Billy! We know you're alive!" Blossom said weakly, trying to believe it. "Wait, Robin, don't go over there, stay in the dark where there’re no shadows!"

“I’m not playing!” Eddie exclaimed, fighting back a grin as he pulled Lydia atop him.

Robin hesitated, but Win didn’t, pressing her back to the wall and edging closer to the window to peer outside. There was definitely someone out there; she hadn’t been hallucinating the shadow of that hand.

“Billy,” she exclaimed, dropping down to her knees and crawling beneath the windowsill to his side. He still hadn’t moved, even when she poked his stomach. “Playing dead, huh?” she grumbled under her breath. “Maybe this will revive you,” she said, leaning down to kiss him.

Billy’s lips curved beneath hers and he kissed her back.

"Call me Snow White, babe... cause your kiss just saved me," he joked, pulling her closer to kiss her again. "You totally believed it for a second! Come on, it was a great joke!"

"You're lucky you're cute or I'd pummel you for that joke," Win exclaimed, pinching his arm before kissing him back.

"Aww you love me," Billy chuckled, rolling atop his girlfriend. "It was just an elaborate plan to get a kiss."

“Oh really? That’s kinda dumb seeing as I kiss you all the time,” Win huffed, though she wore a small grin, her fingers tangling in the chain of his necklace to pull him closer.

"Happy Halloween!" Steve exclaimed, opening the window from the outside, waving with the hand-shaped branch. "Henderson! Come here! You need to see their faces!"

"Steve? Dustin?" Blossom narrowed her eyes, fixing her glasses. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You arse! I fucking hate you! That was so not funny!" Lydia cried, smacking Eddie's chest with an angry huff.

"Yes it was!" Eddie cried, howling with laughter. "You should have seen your face! And you thought it was bullshit when I started," he reminded her.

"Steve!? You lied to us? You like to me?" Robin gasped, her mouth falling open. "Did you even have a date at all?" she exclaimed.

"No, Eddie asked us to help out with his prank so we just... you know," Steve jumped into the cabin and helped Dustin inside.

"It was bullshit! I didn't believe it for a second, I was just... pretending!" Lydia exclaimed, folding her arms over her chest. "You're not getting any tonight."

“Awww c’mon, Lyds!” Eddie exclaimed, pulling her into his lap and kissing her neck. “I could protect you from the monsters,” he murmured.

“We’re gunna get you back for this, you know that right?” Robin said, throwing Steve a level look.

"Yeah, we expected that would happen," Dustin chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"You're all so done," Blossom warned while Lydia turned her head with a little humpf, though she didn't push Eddie away.

"You'll need to spoil me a lot tonight,” she muttered.

“Oh trust me, I have some things up my sleeve,” Eddie purred, kissing his way up Lydia’s jaw.

“Yeah, don’t even think about talking to us!” Robin exclaimed, though she wore a goofy grin, pulling Blossom into her arms to comfort her.

⇾ taglist. @elliethesuperfruitlover @b1tchygh0sts @heartbreak-sandwich @vampyreddiemunson @everybodylovessteve

#billy hargrove x oc #eddie munson x oc #robin buckley x oc #billy hargove #eddie munson #robin buckley #oc: win lewis #otp: lewgrove #oc: lydia bellamy #otp: belmunson #oc: blossom bellamy #oc: beluckley #joz.fic #collaboration #timeline anomaly'verse

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 10 months

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the fashion of Hand turns Loom - Women

for my fanfic Hand turns Loom (contains some spoilers!)

@levithestripper i think you started reading this once so maybe you're interested?), @ilikeitbetterangsty (i'd love for you to read this fic, but also, this was so fun to make and maybe something for your ocs as well?)

Alethia Stahl

At the beginning of the story, Alethia has to start from scratch again. She's quite dependent on House Strong, and often wears Strong colors (especially blue) for that reason.

Also, she alters some of her clothes to look more like those from home, especially dagged sleeves are something that stay for a while. There's almost no embellishment, which is also for practicality. Her hair is very simple, and sometimes gets compared to men's styles.

As Alethia moves up the ranks of King's Landing and establishes herself, growing close with Helaena and Aemond, her clothes become more adjusted to court fashion. The dresses become cleaner, more well-tailored, and more embellished. Here and there, Alethia begins to throw in a piece of jewellery (apart from her earrings). In the yard, she keeps to the clothes she'd wear training in her old home. Her hairstyles start to become more sophisticated, and often are quite similar to those of Helaena.

The richness of her clothes and hair peak when Alethia marries Harwin. At this point, she's rich, influential and established, but dangers are starting to surround her and her family. Embellishments and gold galore, Strong colors all the way, Alethia becomes a sort of symbol of strength. Subconsciously, she takes a page out of Cersei's book and begins to incorporate armor-like elements into her dresses.

At this point, her hairstyles become stricter again, such as the ones she wore back home, and she wears her hair in braidcrowns.

Helaena Targaryen

At the beginning, Helaena is still very close to canon - the kind of forgotten, kind of ignored middle child. She's still dressed a lot by Alicent who (partly on purpose) dresses her in colors that don't compliment her a lot. The silhouettes are ill-fitted and don't follow many trends of the court.

In her early teens, when Helaena is forced to marry Aegon, she tries to rebel by wearing Targaryen colors. It's an attempt to show that she is a dragon, has a voice, belongs to the family. While she tries to mimic Rhaenyra to gain her freedom, she ends up wearing some of her mother's dresses from when Alicent was trying to fit into the family, which is an irony in itself. During this time, Helaena experiments a lot with silhouettes and hairstyles and grows partial to headdresses and dagged sleeves. Still, she always tries to cover herself and kind of hide in her clothes.

As Helaena kind of begins to find her freedom and herself, she starts to realise that she'll never be some hardened warrior, but she loves and accepts that part of herself. She embraces her softness, her kindness, and this is reflected in her clothing. The lines become softer, her waist drops, her sleeves become more dagged. A lot of it is for comfort, but a part of her still uses her clothes to hide. The colors do become much more suited to her though.

During this time, Helaena wears a lot of blue. It is her secret way of showing Aemond that there's people there for him. Also, she returns to her braid-crown, and starts incorporating more embellishments, some of which are an ode to Dreamfyre (with whom she loves to match).

***

(i haven't written as much on these characters, so there's less pictures, but that doesn't make them any less important!!)

Jena Selmy

When Jena comes to court with Jocelyn Dondarrion, she's only her friends lady-in-waiting and quite low in standing. She mostly wears simple styles, combining fashion from the Stormlands and the Crownlands.

Later, as she becomes lady-in-waiting to Helaena, Jena starts to wear more purple to honor her "best friend" (she's so gay lmao). Generally, her style remains very, very loose, with lots of flowy fabrics. Her sleeves are mostly in the split-sleeve style that is so popular at court.

The money she starts to silently earn in Braavos isn't that obvious in her clothes at first, however, Jena begins to invest in more expensive materials such as Myrish lace and fine silks. She also starts to wear her housecolors some more. Even though she constantly looks like a bride thanks to the white, gold, and beiges in her sigil, the court is well aware she refuses to marry, and it makes her happy to be a better represenation of her house than her father or brother.

Cassandra Strong

Now why is she always dripped the fuck out?? Even as a child, Cassandra loves riches, loves fashion and loves luxury. When Harwin refuses to spend even more money on his daughter, she turns to betting and gambling, and does this quite successfully. Still, in her childhood, Cassandra follows the trends of the court very closely.

Later, when Cassandra gains influence and standing, she begins to incorporate even more detail in her clothes. She loves complicated stitching and stones that are incorporated in her dress. Also, she begins to become a sort of trendsetter, and moves away from the fashion of the court. Nonetheless, 80% of the time, she'll wear blue. It's her color, and she knows she looks good.

As she matures, Cassandra realises that many men don't take her seriously due to her gender and some of the extravagance leaves her clothes. The lines become very strict and harsh, and she tends to cover up more, opting for long sleeves and never wearing wide or low necklines anymore. Cassandra also develops a signature hairstyle (see the pic in the middle) where the silhouette of her hair is always confined to the space around her head.

Morrigan Strong

Morrigan and Cassandra are meant to be polar opposites, and this is reflected in their clothes. Morrigan keeps to Riverland fashion, which Cassandra DESPISES. She dresses for practicality, and wears a lot of masculine styles, especially since she trains so much.

As a child, Morrigan has exactly one dress that's fancy that she likes to wear. She does not like the constricts a skirt brings with itself and prefers to wear things that could be from her father's wardrobe.

When she matures, Morrigan becomes more aware of the politics that are reflected in clothes, and wears dresses at court, and pants outside of it. Still, her clothes are always simple, and maybe even a little below what someone of her station would wear. As said, she dresses for practicality. Has the most comfortable boots in Westeros.

Dilah of Volantis

Growing up enslaved and very poor left a lasting effect on Dilah. She does not feel safe in court, preferring large cities or the wild. Dilah mostly wears "men's clothes", and styles from the Free Cities, especially Braavos. Overall, her clothes are very travel-friendly, and could be worn in many different regions of Planetos.

She refuses to wear anything that could be touched by Volantis.

During Winter, even in the South, Dilah is always cold. She does not cope well with lower temperatures, and that is reflected in her ridiculously warm clothing.

and that concludes my thoughts! i wanted to add baela and medea but there was no space for their pictures anymore. oh well...

#alethia stahl #helaena targaryen #hand turns loom #woman of the watch #dilah of volantis #morrigan strong #cassandra strong #jena selmy

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bihansthot · 8 months

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Oh look! More late night writing! I didn’t get around to drawing ship stuff but I did find a poly one so I will work on that tomorrow but in the meantime have some Tomas x Hallvard head canons! I know no one really cares about my OC but I did promise y’all I would write these anyway so I did! Questions are from ask games, please feel free to ask me any you might have about well anything MK! Especially anything Lin Kuei! It’s my favorite thing to write about well them and Syzoth 🥺

Describe their first date.

Hallvard and Tomas’ first date was a very simple lunch date. It really wasn’t much of a first date as they didn’t go anywhere and do anything but they did sneak off away from Bi-Han and Kuai Liang to have lunch alone. Hallvard was the one who asked Tomas out after confiding in his closest ally, Bi-Han, and asking his advice on what to do. Bi-Han had suggested lunch together as they were all still quite young and not yet allowed in the village at the base of the temple. At first Tomas had no idea why Hallvard wanted to have lunch alone with him but after the younger boy confesses his feelings Tomas pieces things together. He doesn’t return Hallvard’s feelings right away though, Tomas doesn’t know how he feels about men, women or anyone for that matter but he was flattered his friend was so interested. He continues to have lunch with Hallvard and he too goes to Bi-Han for help sorting out his feelings, it’s rough being the oldest and most experienced of the bunch; and gradually realizes while he likes men and women but he also likes Hallvard as more than a friend.

How often do they say “I love you”?

Hallvard is more lovey dovey and more affectionate in general than Tomas is and he often tells Tomas he loves him. For Tomas it’s usually reserved for leaving on a dangerous mission and coming home from one. It’s not that Tomas doesn’t love Hallvard he’s just not as talkative as Hallvard is, Hallvard is quite boisterous and an open book so there’s no hiding anything for him. Hallvard is totally a Golden Retriever boyfriend and showers Tomas in words of affection and attention to the point it gets embarrassing for Tomas. Especially when Bi-Han parrots Hallvard in order to tease Tomas, Bi-Han might be a good older brother and might be supportive of their relationship but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to tease both of them mercilessly.

How do they keep in contact when they’re apart? Do they write letters, talk on the phone, or simply wait out the time?

Technology is not huge for the Lin Kuei in this timeline (or at least it doesn’t appear to be) so they communicate by carrier pigeons and other birds. Hallvard often sends frivolous birds with sweet little messages like “miss you”, “love you”, “thinking of you” while Tomas sends practical messages like “here are my coordinates”, “target sighted” and “target terminated”. Every so often though on long missions Tomas will give into Hallvard’s affectionate messages and send him similar ones in return. Tomas definitely does better with separation than Hallvard does.

How do they care for each other when one of them is wounded/sick?

Being professional thieves and assassins both men spend a lot of time injured and both have a very good knowledge of how to treat said injuries. Due to the nature of his powers being based largely on self inflicted wounds and being injured in general Hallvard is almost always in most need of care. Tomas has spent many a night not so happily stitching his boyfriend back up, he understands that Hallvard has to be injured to tap into his power but that doesn’t mean Tomas has to like it. He’s very tender and soft during these moments and is very meticulous when tending to Hallvard. Likewise Hallvard is just as attentive treating Tomas’ injuries but luckily Tomas doesn’t get injured very often. When Tomas got his nasty scar over his eye however he was so scared and terrified trying to treat it. He was so worried that his eye was permanently damaged and there was so much blood. Hallvard might have struggled pretty hard to hold back his panicked tears as he cleaned and dressed it and may have cries in the bathroom afterwards. He can be quite emotional for a big scary assassin.

Is their relationship a secret? If so, why?

Yes. Bi-Han and Kuai Liang know about their relationship but the rest of the Lin Kuei have no clue. People definitely have their suspicions but no one is stupid enough to start anything with the Grandmaster’s younger brother. Their relationship is primarily a secret because while homosexuality isn’t forbidden in the Lin Kuei it’s also not the normal. Tomas is also a relatively private person and would rather not announce to the world he and Hallvard are together, the people who are important to him know and that’s good enough for him. Hallvard on the other hand finds it hard not to let things slip and has almost called Tomas pet names in public hundreds of times. When he does screw up he plays it off and being a “foreign thing” he’s usually reasonably convincing but he has definitely gotten strange looks.

#mortal kombat #mk smoke #tomas vrbada #mk headcanons #hallvard breivik #tomas x hallvard #mk ocs #mk oc reaver #smoke x reaver #head canons #gay character #bi characters

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sleekervae · 1 year

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A Pirate's Life | Pirate Radio [1]

So... I fell down a Sandman rabbit hole... and then I fell down the Tom Sturridge rabbit hole. And then through him I found my new favourite movie, Pirate Radio (aka The Boat that Rocked) and I seriously recommend ya'll go check it out! Anyway, I fell in love with Carl -- he's just the softest little bean 🥺 -- and I was compelled to write something just to get it out of my system. I might write for the sandman in the future too but for now... please enjoy this baby pirate being the sweetest thing since cherry pie.

If you haven't watched the movie, I suggest watching it before reading this. And if you haven't, I tried to give as much context as possible for everything. But you should still watch the movie because it's fucking amazing!

Thank you for coming to my ted talk...

Pairing: Carl x OC Fem Reader

Summary: Young Carl forges a profound friendship with the bitter tart of the Radio Rock tanker.

Summer 1966

Sharp shivers raced down Carl's spine, his heaviest coat had provided him little to no protection against the sloshing, violent waters that splattered across his ferry ride. And yet, being inside the rickety old tanker was little relief. What more could he expect from a tanker ship, though? He only prayed that Quentin, his god father, was good enough to maybe provide him with a hot meal or a cup of tea.

The heavy metal door swung open with a vile squeal and Quentin led his god son down the metal stairs, minding him to watch his step should he slip in his soaked wellies. He was introduced to the entire team, or just barely so, as they all continued to go about their tasks while giving the lad fleeting glances.

The star of their enterprise, The Count, held his own charismatic charm that Carl found himself envious of, while his new roomie, Thick Kevin, was as delightfully daft as a door nail. Dave was a partier, if not unorthodox in some of the things he did for sheer amusement. Felicity seemed sweet, if not a little overwhelmed from the excess of male energy in her constance presence.

And then there was Sally. Carl didn't even spot her at first; she was curled up in the back of the sitting room with a wool blanket thrown over her legs, her nose buried in a book, and a cigarette balanced between her lips.

"Sitting in the corner and being delightfully antisocial is our vinyl librarian, Sally," She hardly looked up when Quentin called her up to introduce her. She didn't see much to be impressed by anyway; the boy was lankier than a toothpick, slouched and jittery with his fringe practically curtaining over his eyes.

Despite her aloofness, young Carl couldn't help but take a second -- well, fourth -- glance at Sally. She had a face that he could liken to a pixie, and it was difficult to pick off whether or not she was older or younger than him. Regardless, she exuded a confidence and maturity that was way beyond years for most girls her age. She was easily the most strikingly beautiful thing he had laid eyes on -- though considering his lack of experience with women, that wasn't saying much.

Carl glanced aimlessly around the ship, quite taken with the extensive radio booths for the boys' segments as Kevin led him down the deck to the room they would be sharing.

"And this room belongs to Nick," Kevin pointed out, "And Felicity has the room next to us. I like it because she's the quietest when the girls come to visit. You get more sleep that way with quiet neighbours,"

Carl's lip quivered a little as he spoke up, "W-What about Sally?" he asked.

"She stays with Felicity, but she's not a lez, if that's what you're thinking," Kevin shook his head, "Dave made that assumption once and he still has the scar to prove it,"

"Scar?" Carl cocked an eyebrow as Simon came to pass them in the hall.

"She clocked him," he pointed to his own chin, "Right there,"

"Not that he didn't have it coming," The older Irishmen chuckled heartily at the mention of their resident book worm, "Lemme' put it to ya this way, boy-o; don't get any ideas about Sally. She's off limits to all of us,"

"How come?" Carl asked.

Kevin leaned in close, as though to whisper a secret the walls themselves couldn't hear, "She sleeps with a screwdriver under her pillow,"

"She's not all sour lemons, though," Simon assured the startled boy, "Once you get to know her, she's a right good time. Pulled a hell of a prank on Angus a while back,"

"He didn't get any scars," Kevin informed sadly.

Regardless of warnings from all the lads, Carl found himself having quieter moments with Sally. He was taken aback when she greeted him on his first morning when they passed each other in the hall, and try as he might his voice was caught in his throat for too long to utter anything more than a simple 'hi'. More over they'd run into each other in the galley to fetch some tea. She's ask him how he was doing and he's reply with a jovial 'fine', as would she when he asked her the same. It seemed though that their conversation never spanned more than those few exchanged in the first weeks of Carl's stay.

Within the first two weeks of Carl's stay, the boys had invited a ferry of girls to come and visit for the weekend. The ever so young and innocent boy stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of his overly horny shipmates.

That was when he ran into his first real spot of trouble with Sally. Somehow, Dave had convinced him it would be good for him to pop his cherry quickly, and the older lad had devised a scheme to make the boy a man by tricking his own date into make believing that Carl was actually Dave making love to her. It was a long and arduous story, but Dave was convinced that just keeping the lights off would be enough to get them by.

Needless to say, Carl was shaking; the poor boy was so nervous! And Dave's pep talk in the loo did very little to calm him as he stripped off his pants and hurried down the hall, praying he wouldn't run into anybody.

Carl peeked into the room, finding it pitch black indeed. He slipped inside, assured that this was indeed Dave's room. However, his blood ran cold when he heard a familiar, feminine voice.

"Felicity?" and before he could register what he'd done, the lights flipped on, and he found himself stark bollock naked in front of a mortified Sally.

Needless to say, she screamed bloody fucking murder at the sight of him and Carl followed suit. Of course he had to get the wrong fucking door!

"What the fuck are you doing!?" her thick South Shields accent hollered at him, though she kept her eyes averted to the wall covered in various film and music posters.

Carl wished more than anything to have the ground open up and swallow him whole, put him out of his fucking misery. He tried to cover his modesty as best as he could with his hands, "I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Sally! Wrong room!" he babbled on with his apologies, trying to explain but tripping over his words more than a drunk at three in the morning

Sally, angered and embarrassed beyond anything, grabbed the first thing she could -- which happened to be a towel -- and tossed it at him so he could cover up, pointing sharply to her door, "Get the fuck out, Carl!"

"I'm sorry!" Carl begged as he backed out for the door, his eyes then training to the pillow on her bunk, "Please -- please don't stab me!"

Sally's hand flew to her mouth when he finally exited her room, her skin crawling and lungs gasping to catch a breath. She slapped at the rod to her bunk bed, in the back of her mind suspecting that Dave had something to do with this, "Fuck me!"

Only seconds later did the door open again, but much to Sally's relief it was only Felicity. She looked just as gobsmacked as Sally, "Did I hear screams? What happened?"

Sally simply shook her head, "Nothing, nothing. There was just an seventh grader in hear trying to find his willy,"

The next morning was humiliating, needless to say. Carl kept his head down best his could, steeping his tea and rolling his eyes as Dave went on and on about last night's sexual escapade. And though nobody spoke of it, he could tell from the glances and sniggers the boys were exchanging that they'd heard about what had happened with Sally. Carl wasn't sure what was worse; the fact that he'd gotten the wrong room or that he was about to dupe another hapless woman in the same span. He made a memo to himself, though: never ever again would he listen to Dave.

The chatter in the dining area came to a stall when Sally entered; bundled up in a turtle neck, plaid jacket and her grey slacks. Her dark long hair was tied messily atop her head and her latest read clenched tightly in her hand. Despite her clear irritation, she continued to be so effortlessly beautiful.

She inhaled sharply as she paused in front of the boys, glaring briefly at the portly Dave with a look that could've murdered him on the spot.

Kevin, ever so daft, proceeded to ask, "Sleep well, Sally?" Mark sniggered next to him, while Sally rolled her eyes and rushed to the kitchen to make herself some tea. She stopped momentarily when she saw Carl was already there, and the look on the poor boy's face was a grimace that begged for death -- or to be literally anywhere else in the world but here.

She was silent as she grabbed her usual mug and waited for the kettle. Carl seemed to be frozen on the spot, staring down into his tea mug and praying that the kettle would hurry and heat the water. He could feel her eyes on him, piercing, judging, probably calling him every name in the book in her mind. When she opened her mouth, he fully expected her to to lambast him again for last night, though instead, the words that flew from her mouth were sympathetic.

"Simon told me what happened," she said quietly, "So last night wasn't entirely your fault,"

Carl glanced at her from the corner of his eye, unsure whether or not she was putting him on. Though she didn't strike him as the type to laud him on for a laugh, her eyes were genuine and the corners of her lips were almost -- almost upturned in a tiny, sympathetic grin.

"So... so you're not angry, then?" he asked cautiously.

"No, I'm traumatized," she assured in short, "You're a git for having listened to Dave in the first place. But -- the blame isn't entirely on you,"

Carl nodded slowly, "Oh. Well... thanks for understanding, I guess,"

Sally then leaned over on the counter top, resting her elbows on the wood as she glanced ups t him curiously, "Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Sure," Carl shrugged, glancing at the tea pot once again. What the hell was it taking so long for?

"Did you... why did you think I was gonna stab you?" she asked, her voice just a key above a whisper.

Despite his pale complexion, Carl felt his face go red -- for maybe the tenth time in twelve hours, "Well... K-Kev told me about the screwdriver you keep... under your pillow,"

Much to his surprise, Sally began to chuckle, "Kevin told you that?" she was flabbergasted at the notion.

He tried to get himself to relax; she was smiling after all, the tension within her had de-escalated, "You don't have one?"

"I made that quip to Mark so he'd stop hounding at me. Not like it worked but... I have the door locked and a bunk mate," she explained, "Besides, Quentin made it very clear; any twat makes us girls uncomfortable then they walk the plank -- so to speak,"

"Fair," Carl agreed, "I'm really, really sorry, though. It won't ever happen again,"

"Damn right it won't," as she spoke, the kettle finally began to whistle. She reached to take it off the stove top and poured herself a cup, "Because I do like you. It'd be a shame to throw you overboard,"

In his heart he knew it was only a joke, but he couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine as she took her mug and book and went for the table. Despite his fear, he called out for her again, and she turned on her heel swiftly.

"What're you reading?" he asked.

Sally paused momentarily, glancing at the cover of her new novel. No one on this boat -- not even Felicity -- had ever asked her about her books.

"Dune," she replied, "It's a science fiction thriller in a futuristic desert. It's got giant worms and shit,"

"Is it good?" Carl inquired.

"So far, yeah," she replied, "If you want, um, you can borrow it when I finish,"

Carl felt himself begin to smile, and his frigid exterior began to relax, "Sure. Yeah, I'd like that,"

"Cool," Sally nodded, sporting her own small grin, "Enjoy your tea, Carl,"

She went to take her seat at the table between Simon and Kevin, and Mark being Mark, he smirked with giddy at her.

"So Sally, I have to ask -- what were you doing with your lights off last night anyhow?" he asked.

The boys all turned in her directions, including Carl as he still kept stationing with the kettle. Sally sipped her tea idly before replying with the most fitting response.

"I was tryna get to sleep early so I wouldn't have to listen to you twats measure your cocks between the walls,"

A couple of weeks had passed, and Carl and Sally were getting more and more comfortable around each other. Sally found that Carl was more enjoyable to talk to out of the other lads, and more often than not she'd find herself seeking him out between takes in the broadcast. They chatted about everything; how they grew up to the things they hated most in school.

And Carl had learned quite a lot about Sally, more than the boys on the ship had learned. She had just turned the ripe ol' age of eighteen, grew up in Newcastle, and she was invited to come work on the tanker so she could escape her morally oppressive and abusive father who had more of a taste for mulled wine than a steady job. Neither of them were ultimately sure if they were being paid or not, but regardless they found life on Radio Rock to be all the more swell compared to their lives on the mainland.

Just as she'd promised, when Sally was done reading Dune, she passed it off to Carl to peak his interest. So he would take his torch beneath his blanket and read, becoming truly engrossed in the vast landscapes and vivid scenes of war, destruction, and love. And when morning came he would sit with Sally at the end of the long dining table, and they'd chat on and on about the story, and Sally was happy to answer any questions he had.

This didn't mean however that she herself had become an open book to Carl. Despite their blooming friendship she still kept him at an arms' length, and Carl was perplexed as to why when he had practically told her everything about him.

It was a gloomy autumn night when Quentin had called Carl up to come see him in his quarters -- because of course he had the nicest living quarters out of everyone. With Carl's eighteenth birthday coming up, Quentin had decided to gift him the gift of a good time -- with his niece. And of course, the shy but excitable lad jumped at the opportunity.

When he told Sally about it, she feigned her happiness because it was his birthday and she could tell that he was beaming like a kid on Christmas. However, the notion of it all turned her off -- after all it seemed like a bargain deal for a girl to come aboard a ship with her rich uncle, and all she'd have to do is have dinner with a stranger. There really was no promise of anything for Carl here. Nevertheless, Sally chose to keep her opinions to herself and wished him well as he dashed off to find something to wear.

Sally meanwhile continued to go through the boxes of older records, organizing the older pieces from the newer ones for The Count's segment. John approached her from behind, tapping her gently on the shoulder whilst he tried to untangle his headphones from around his neck.

"What's the crack with him?" he asked.

"Oh, the boy's becoming a man -- for real this time,"

Carl had put on his nicest shirt and a sweater over top, and his heart raced so quickly he feared it would leap out of his heart. His mind was racing, wondering what this girl, Marianne, would be like. Was she pretty? Would she like him? What if she thought him laughable, small or not even worth her time?

Regardless of his worries, he exited out of his room and made his way up to Quentin's living quarters. He passed Sally on his way up, she was on her way down with a box of old records clutched in her arms.

"You look nice," she commented quickly.

"Thanks. I'm just going up to dinner," he replied, trying to play it off as casually as possible.

Sally refrained from biting her tongue, "Oh, with Quentin's niece? Was that tonight?"

"Yeah," he glanced down at the hastily kept together box, "what's all this?"

"Off season shite," she nodded swiftly, continuing to trot down the stairs, "Good luck with your date, yeah?"

Carl, being ever the young gentleman he was, tried to chase after her, "Hey, you need a hand?"

"No! No I'm good," she assured, stopping momentarily, "Compliment her shoes,"

"Excuse me?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Compliment her shoes. We like when boys notice our effort," she explained.

His eyes then averted to Sally's shoes. She was wearing a simple pair of converse, dark blue, worn down in the sole and laces. And yet they still complimented her dark slacks and jumper quite well. Her smile was kind, yet blunt, as she trotted down the well and Carl leaned over the rail, watching her disappear into the hull of the ship.

The night was going splendidly well, and from the moment Carl first laid eyes on Marianne, he was a sworn believer in the trope of love at first sight. And despite their being chaperoned by Quentin, the older gent was shockingly lenient when it came to giving Carl some alone time with his niece.

However, things inevitably took a turn when Dave became involved. From openly flirting with Marianne, to gobbing off about the condom Carl had sneaked away in his pocket, Carl was sure that he would strike out yet again. And then he was sure he was safe again when he tossed the condom out of the porthole, assuring his date that he was attracted her regardless of whether she would put out with him.

But the final blow came when Carl left her alone for not even ten minutes in search of another condom -- only to come back and find that Dave had swooped in and knicked Marianne out from under his nose. Regardless to say, he was crushed.

Sally wandered back into the studio at some point during the evening, exhausted but relieved to have finished moving the show's older inventory. She wasn't surprised to find Harold or John, John after all was setting up his late night news segment. However, she paused when she spotted Carl sitting alone in the sound booth, staring into space glumly.

She turned to the boys awaiting an answer, and all Harold had to say was 'Dave' before she could get the hint. She shook her head, seething to wonder just what it was that pompous pig had done now. Regardless, she didn't want to leave the poor kid alone like this. So she went into the kitchen to grab a tin of Bourbon biscuits and some chocolate milk. Regardless of whether it was a tempestuous break up or a bad day in general, chocolate always had a knack for making Sally feel better.

Music from Mark's current segment continued to play in the background. Sally approached Carl slowly, placing the plate of biscuits down before him and the glass of milk next to it. She sat down beside him, not that he bothered to glance her way. They sat in silence together, Carl was unsure whether he should spill his guts to Sally and Sally was unsure of what to say to him. She didn't ask him if he was okay, she knew fully well he wasn't, and she also knew she was going to tear a strip off of Dave in the morning for being such a twat.

And so she took a biscuit, dunked it in the milk, and took a bite; glancing his way momentarily before she opened her book and began to read -- or, pretended to read, anyway.

The cycle continued for a minute or two. Sally ate her biscuit, skimmed a few lines, and looked up at Carl now and again to gauge him. He glanced at the plate now and again, his resolve coming to a break as he swiftly reached over and took a biscuit. It was hard for Sally to contain her smile as she watched him eat. He gladly accepted the milk she offered him, laughing quietly when the end of the sopping biscuit she dipped nearly fell into her lap.

Mark watched them from his booth, the cigarette sizzling between his lips as he watched the pair smile together. Not that he would ever admit it, but he found them kind of sweet together. A coy smile dwindled at his lips as he switched his vinyl to the next track.

Eating biscuits like little children, Carl was surprised when Sally slung an arm around his shoulders to give him a hug, and she promised him that everything was going to be okay. He didn't feel alright, but he felt better just being with Sally. And she couldn't complain either, despite his demure and naive attitude, the lad was alright company. A breath of fresh air, one could say, from the booming testosterone-filled shenanigans of the other boys.

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