#Posh Coat

[standing-wave-mag]

Let’s Hear It 2024 Showcases Vancouver’s Most Promising Musicians

On a cold March evening in Vancouver, 4 beloved venues heated up for a night of local talent. From the prestigious Fox Cabaret to the intimate winery La Fabrique St-George, people gathered from all corners of the city to taste a flight of 18 talented local bands in 30-minute increments.

While I wish I could’ve cloned myself and attended all 18 often overlapping shows, I was still able to discover a handful of music I didn’t know existed until that very night, which is something uniquely special. Every artist brought something new to the table that had locals hook line and sinker. Here’s a rundown of each show I was able to attend.

FOX CABARET – Parlour Panther, Haleluya Hailu

The night all started at the historic Fox Cabaret in Mount Pleasant, the former porn theater-turned-venue. Known as the hottest venue in the city (according to the MC, in temperature not vibes!) the space was surprisingly chilly. But the spirits were high as guests piled in ready for the first band to hit the stage.

Four-piece Parlour Panther opened the night, engaging the crowd with dreamy indie pop tunes. Lead vocalists and instrumentalists Frankie and Lee have been making music for a decade now, and this was evident as their chemistry filled the entire room. They promoted their new single “BLOOM,” a bass-heavy but light indie pop tune about self-change. Just observing from the floor, you could feel the intense love reverberating amongst the band members; this is what they enjoyed the most. They were the best choice to kick off the night on a positive note.

Following this was the quick-witted and feisty singer/songwriter Haleluya Hailu. Hailu, her drummer and guitarist all walked on stage wearing brightly coloured construction vests, with the singer waiving a light saber-esque red wand around the stage.

“We're here to construct sounds for you!” she joked.

The singer has a distinct R&B flavor with a trilly powerful voice that launches her music into new dimensions.

Hailu showcased singles such as the floaty “pinball,” and crowd favourite “MANIC PIXIE PACIFIST.” Using the infamous trope, the singer wants you to know she is a force to be reckoned with.

Boldly, she quips at the crowd to boo her. She gave out her next song “Useless” to all Vancouverites, defining her relationship with the crowd as one of love-hate (but mostly love, we can only hope).

RED GATE - POSH COAT, LEO D.E. JOHNSON, SLIGHTEST CLUE

Next to open its doors was Vancouver’s beloved DIY music and arts hall Red Gate Arts Society. Upon arrival, the venue felt like a closed down fire hall. But once inside, it opens a dimension where all music and art is free to thrive–it’s like a breath of fresh air from the larger shinier venues that have been popping up lately. From the holes in the ceiling, to the cartoon eye stickers placed on the speakers, this venue is brimming with charm.

We were just in time to hear Posh Coat's final song. The trio, hailing from nearby Victoria, has so much potential to be a superstar band, describing themselves as “a cold front of Arctic Monkeys from the north.” It is astounding they currently only have 3 singles out at the moment, but their standout talent and energy is evident. I can’t wait to see what’s next for them.

Following Posh Coat, powerhouse singer/songwriter Leo D.E. Johnson took to the stage, absolutely blowing everything out of the water. Simply accompanied by an electric guitar and a drummer, Johnson’s voice evoked such a primal appreciation for how transcendent music can be. Blending soul with rock n’ roll, the non-binary artist expresses intense lyricism involving identity and belonging, allowing his voice to be all-encompassing. 

He performed my personal favourite track “Beneficiary,” a 7-minute ballad featuring growling rock vocals in the chorus combined with softer soulful verses; this perfectly showcases Johnson’s versatility as a vocalist and lyricist. To me, Johnson is the most promising and talented new Vancouver singer and songwriter we have.

To complete my personal Red Gate sandwich of performances, 4-piece band Slightest Clue was up next. What piqued my interest was the background of each band member, and how they shouldn’t work: “a stage actor, a hook-obsessed recovering choir girl, an electrical engineer, and a guitarist who played for (and left) ten other bands before deciding this was the one for him.” Their biggest draw is how they really shouldn’t work as a band but somehow do, in a post-punk garage kind of way.

The Vancouver misfits were eager to play songs off their latest EP Carousel, chock full of drippy post-punk hooks and word-vomit ramblings between verses. Lively bassist and vocalist Hannah Kruse asks the crowd “have you ever had a crush like, really really bad? ‘Cause I have,” before launching into the heavy garage guitar obsessive single “Why Can’t I Call You.” 

Another highlight was the “Carousel” single, featuring a back and forth vocal war between Kruse and lead vocalist Malcom McLaren accompanied by screaming guitar solos. Despite their mismatched union, the band is quick to show that they work in such a unique way that draws any post-punk indie rock fan in (seriously, I can’t stop listening to their music, even days after their show!).

La Fabrique St-George - JADE LE MAC, CARA BATEMAN

The final venue to open its doors for the evening shows was the smallest and most intimate of all the venues: winery La Fabrique St-George. A small queue of people formed a line outside, as the venue was at full capacity for a short burst of time, showing just how much Vancouverites were flocking for the local talent. Eventually, as people trickled in and out, we were let into the narrow hall. Unlike the grandeur of the Fox Cabaret, or the boldly artsy halls of Red Gate, La Fabrique held a more sacred and somber tone. Concert-goers sat cross-legged on large colourful pillows  in front of a small stage, or around long tables drinking wine.

Jade Le Mac was next, perhaps the most popular and youngest of all the artists in the festival. Armed simply with her powerful steady voice and an accompanying guitarist, it’s easy to see why Le Mac is so renowned among teenagers and young adults; she is the voice of youthful angst. Her lyricism and bubbly personality leads me to believe she is Vancouver’s own Olivia Rodrigo.

It’s clear she’s passionate about everything she writes, sharing stories and background about each song before launching into it. For the short set, the singer jumped between albums “Constellations” and “Confessions,” showcasing just how versatile she can be in sound: from the starry-eyed softness of single “Constellations” to the pounding anthemic “You’re Not A God.” Le Mac has the spark to launch further into superstardom.

To round out the night, the final artist to hit the winery stage was the charismatic and compelling Cara Bateman. Described by her friend as a “35-year-old teenager,” the artist walked out in pink sunglasses, cowboy earrings, and a silver glitter top. What makes Bateman stand out the most is her ability to genre-jump: using a primarily singer/songwriter base she can flawlessly transition from country to punk.

The risk-taking singer launched into her latest single “Time To Be A Bitch,” an electric-guitar heavy anthem about setting boundaries and self-defining. But later, she seamlessly transitioned to the moody and jazzy “I Wrote This for You.” Each song was stripped down with piano and guitar accompaniment to match the low-key tone of La Fabrique.

To me, these two artists with their stripped down sets were the perfect way to end the night. Of course, many were headed to the late-night bonus shows at the Cobalt featuring more local artists such as NIKKAELA and PEAK. While I ended my night at the winery, I’m sure the aftershow was just as much fun as the entire evening.

MusicBC’s Let’s Hear It Festival is only in its second year of operation, but judging on how fast tickets sold out, it’s clear the people crave a glimpse into Vancouver’s newest and best local music. This is the festival to fill in the gaps, the perfect palette of music that allows local audiences to connect with emerging artists.

#let's hear it 2024 #let's hear it #MusicBC #Canadian music #Vancouver #YVR #YVR music #Parlour Panther #Haleluya Hailu #Posh Coat #Leo d.e. johnson #jade le mac #cara bateman #the fox cabaret #la fabrique st-george #red gate #new music #concert review #music review

[polarisdelphi]

Now that things like Artshield exist, I feel more comfortable posting art again *cries in a corner*

"forgive me mother for I have sinned" - because Vergil doesn't need to ask Sparda for forgiveness. He has to ask it to his human heart he always belittled so much. He has to ask it to Eva.

Tried something more ~graphic~ and not really anatomically correct with how the blood flowed down his face - had a totally different idea to use more graphic colours and make it very divided between teal and red, but, alas, I cannot work with graphic styles... Yet.

Alsoooo tumblr already turns down the image quality and, as I mentioned above, I did use Artshield to protect it from AI (because fuck you AI bros and tumblr for scraping our stuff without consent) - I'm still learning how to use it and how to make the output quality better but, honestly, just being able to post without worrying endlessly my art might be stolen by those lazy degenerates is good enough for now.

And finally, I'm gonna add this one as a sticker on my Redbubble shop to replace Vergil's old design - you can support a human artist and find my shop in this link!

oh humans, we are always struggling, aren't we?

#devil may cry #art #my art #fanart #dmc fanart #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #artists on tumblr #illustration #digital art #digital illustration #also I noticed I can draw his clothes from memory down to the detail #I mean Dante's clothes are a lot easier #dmc4 Dante IS a nightmare with all the details though #same with every Vergil iteration #this bitch is so dramatic EVERYTHING needs to be detailed and posh #even the inside of his coat is patterned #I drew it ONCE and never forgot ever since #*smiles in pain*

[aerithisms]

bruh there are female npcs walking around in the masculine version of some of the camp clothes so they DID model that version of the outfit for "female" bodies but if you're playing a tav with that body you have to equip the feminine version. injustice

#blahs #bg3 lb #i stole astarion's camp clothes for my tav bc they make her look dashing without being too posh for her personality #but i wish i could try out the other masculine outfits on her!! #also wish i could get some of the other npc outfits but i don't think you can #i like the ones with trench coats i think they fit my tav's vibe :)

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Mercedes is wearing the Zaria Corset Top in Black from Posh by V (sold out), the Area 51 Coat in Rainbow from Space Island ($185) & Honey Leather Pants in Green from Posh by V ($59.99)

#Mercedes Mone #mercedes varnado #Zaria Corset Top #corset top #top #tops #black #Area 51 Coat #coat #coats #rainbow #Space Island #Honey Leather Pants #pant #pants #leather pants #green #posh by V #women of wrestling fashion #NJPW #AEW

[consultjohnwatson]

What do you think about sherlock's hair ruffling?

It’s annoying.

#posh boy #looking all cool #with those ridiculous soft locks #and cheekbones #and his coat collar turned up #like he owns the place #which he does #john replies #john watson replies #sherlock #john watson #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #johnlock

[a-wild-things-rambles]

ok so i finally had to put down symphony of the night [battery v low] and so ill wright up my thoughts

i love it. [wow big news]

first: alucards fuking hair flip. i love it. it makes me grin evry time i see it so when im just walking im grinning like an idiot.

look at it! dramatic ass. also the cape- its beautiful, my respect for this is threefold- one fabric is a pain in the ass to draw, two animation is hard, THREE pixel art requires alot of skill cause half the power is in suggestion and making the vewer fill in the blanks.

[the simple design where you can tell whats what, use of diff tones to show shadows, it has a logic[?] to it, you can tell where everything is and it all makes sense, even at the speed]

so yea that cape is amazing and im p sure the animators sold their sould to someone for that alone [im also p sure the whole of konami sold their souls for the game]

music- absolutely amazing. love it.

set designs- fuking glorious, i love the stairwells in the coliseum the most, the way they use pixels to imply/show roundness is *chefs kiss* but the rest of the coliseum is also lovely, the depth they get in some areas

also love the way the patterns are shown of in the stairwells [or i finally get the chance to admire them, 50/50]

but also the themes of each area are great- not so different you get too much whiplash, but the areas are clearly defined,

also it realy encourages you to explore every nook and cranny! its v intuitive [some places i was being dumb, u know the teleport room? i teleported a ton but dident realise and thought i needed higher mana and the ashey stuff was showing it failed. then i walked out and wondered how the f u teleported]

sotn is def at the top of my fav games now, fun to play/amazing music AND an artistic masterpiece, i know often older games are put down cause the "lower quality" but sotn shows just what you can do with it, it might just be cause im an artist but every part of the game has a beauty to it, just a much as the official art!

#symphony of the night #i would do more professional analysis but my current mood is just shaking it going look!! look at this!!!! #just mindless pointing of this walking pixel man and throthing over it #like!!! the movement!! the colour!!! #someone knew what they were doing and had skill and did it!! #anyway good game #good visouls #visuals #this will not make sense if i re read it but trust me #also u can tell alot about alucard from his clothing #cape- dramatic- link to dracula #gold lined jacket- v dramatic historic coat- shows posh/status #also the fact when u double jump u get the image of wings

[kittykatninja321]

I need an old man leather jacket sooo bad

#I also need a posh old lady trench coat. The real divine feminine and masculine #they need to make old man leather jackets in XS this is discriminatory -_-

[dreadfuldevotee]

my advisor just described the way ive been dressing as my "doctor who era" and i think i need to go die somewhere, actually

#IDK WHATS WORSE THE FACT THAT THESE ARE ABOUT ARTICLES OF CLOTHING IVE OWNED FOR YEARS OR THE FACT THAT ITS TRUE #My love of long wooshy coats and weirdly posh aesthetic predates me watching this series!!! let the court know!!! #char.txt

[luvrxbunny]

gullible

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Breeding

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, a lot of body descriptions, reader is on the curvier side, some grinding/dry humping, male masturbation (barely), ovulation, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 4.7k

A/N: lets say spider society is funded by the most rish spider-people and thats what the dinner was for. also this is long asf- i blacked out im so sorry 

It’s a formality. This whole dinner party. It’s something Miguel gets invited to every year and every year he dreads going to it, having to play posh in order to get some extra funding from the higher-ups. Although, he doesn’t mind too much this year because he’s bringing you. 

He’s fidgeting, and complaining about his collar when you come out of the bathroom, you’re asking him if you look okay and he knows his answer before he looks at you. He knows you look good, he tells you so before turning to you and only reassures you upon gazing at the outfit. 

This dress is new, and you’re worried your tummy might be too big for it so you’ve thrown a coat over to hide it. Miguel knows what the coat is really for but doesn't mention it, not wanting to risk making you so uncomfortable you change out of everything. He compliments your new perfume instead, winning a confused smile from you. You’re fidgeting with the coat on the ride to the venue, saying that it’s itchy and you’re getting too warm. He suggests you take it off but you gently refuse and stop complaining. 

He gets dragged away from you the moment he walks through the door. He hates leaving you alone at these things, he knows you don’t socialize well and he knows the men here want a taste of you. He’s anxious to get back to you for the entire hour these deep pockets talk his ear off. He hasn’t been listening, he’s thinking about you. He’s almost overwhelmed at the love he has for you, he’s never felt this way before. He’s missing you even though you guys are in the same place, even though he’s only been away from you for an hour. He can’t get out of there fast enough, shoving the doors of the conference room open and searching for you immediately. 

When his eyes find you, they find that you’ve already taken your jacket off and you’re socializing with an entire group of people. They’re conversing with you comfortably. You bring a smile to his face as you laugh at someone’s joke. His eyes rake over your body, finally taking in your true outfit. 

It has him stiffening in his pants. You’re wearing a dark red pencil dress, the same color as his suit. It hugs your curves perfectly, doing justice to your plush thighs, your ass and showcasing the curve of your back. His favorite part though, is the way it hugs your front. Your boobs look great, sure, but it’s emphasizing the little pooch that sits at the bottom of your stomach. 

You hate it, saying it makes you look fat, that you wish you could get rid of it… but in Miguel’s eyes? It’s just proof you’re the perfect woman to mother his children. He came to this conclusion before he even knew about your tummy. He had seen your wide hips, your care toward others, how good you are with children, and decided he wanted you. 

Once he got you to date him, to fall in love with him, he found out about your little belly fat. You’d been sucking it in as much as you could whenever you were around him, sometimes wearing higher pants than necessary in hopes of the jeans pushing your stomach down. It broke his heart to hear you so insecure but there was also a little flame igniting in his stomach. 

The flame never left. He didn’t tell you about it, but every time he noticed your belly pushing against your tank top, or a tight shirt, whenever he felt your soft tummy on his hard stomach- through the t-shirt you insist on wearing while he fucked you- the fire raged brighter. He added it to the list of reasons you’d be an amazing child-bearer. He’s obsessed with the protective fat over your womb. 

He watches you cover your stomach with your arm as you laugh, not even realizing you’re trying to hide his favorite part of you. He’s walking over to you before he plans out what he’ll say. He just stands beside you, inhaling your sweet perfume, and waiting for you to feel his presence, it doesn't take long. You turn to him with a surprised smile and give him an excited hug. “Miguel!”

His heart expands at your excitement upon his arrival, he wraps an arm around your waist and presses you against him. Your voice is muffled as you speak to him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” He’s not listening though. 

To any outsider, it looked like Miguel just really missed you, when in reality, he was making sure you could feel what you do to him. You let out a pretty sigh into his ear once you feel his bulge press into you. Your eyes are on his as you pull away, searching them for a reason as to why he’s hard but all he’s too busy taking in every piece of you. 

You’re both lost in your own world, you don’t realize the people you were talking to have moved on from your conversation, talking with some other people now and leaving you and Miguel to your moment. 

His hands are resting on your hips before one slides behind you, pressing his open palm against the small of your back before the other presses against your lower stomach, right over your uterus. Miguel can feel your stomach tense under his hand as you suck in, tightening your muscles but Miguel just tuts and tilts his head at you, disappointed. “Don’t do that, cariño. I love her.” Your gaze is on the floor as you listen to him, he sounds drunk, his voice is distant and hazy. 

His head is cloudy with fantasies. He can see your stomach, how it would grow and swell as you create his child inside you. He thinks about how beautiful you would look with your womb stuffed full of him. He swears she’s calling for him- your womb- begging him to fill her up, paint your walls white until his seed takes, maybe a little more after that just to be safe. 

You can see his thoughts racing, you can tell he’s working himself up, you just don’t understand what is doing this to him. His hand on your stomach is making you a bit self-conscious, but your muscles have been too tight for too long, and they give out. Your soft tummy relaxes and presses into his hand, pulling a relieved sigh from Miguel. His breathing picks up and his eyebrows furrow before he looks up from your stomach, looking into your eyes instead. “You know I love this, right?”

He looks back down at your belly as he readjusts his palm, opening his hand wider to cover more of your pooch. You whine and shift uncomfortably, the way his hand is resting over your womb is hot, it’s turning you on but you’re barely aware of that fact because anxiety is overrunning everything. You’re waiting for Miguel to slip up, for you to see a crack in his lies. You appreciate the attempt at making you feel better about your body but you don’t- you can’t believe him. 

Until you look up into his eyes. 

They’re drowning in need, his pupils entirely blown out, covering most of the red in his eyes. He’s gazing at you as he slowly pulls you in and presses his plump lips against yours with a moan. You pull away quickly and look around, a few people looking your way at Miguel’s louder-than-safe moan. You look back up at him to warn him, tell him to keep it down but the words die on your tongue. His eyes are hazy and confused, still looking at your lips like he can’t figure out why you pulled away. You smile at him incredulously and pull his hand away from your back but he whimpers when you try and take his hand off your womb. 

“Miguel, we’re public, baby.” Your voice is soft yet frantic, and his eyes are still begging you. “People are staring…” That gets a reaction, his face twitches and his eyes clear and harden a bit. He looks around the room with a snarl and you have to pull his gaze back to you. 

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?” The question hurts him a bit as he thinks it over, he really is trying to pinpoint why this is affecting him so much.  All he can focus on is you though, your scent enveloping him like a cloud. It smells like everything good, like flowers and honey, but also clean like soap and linen. It’s suffocating him, stopping all thought. 

“You smell so good, amor. What is that? I don’t recordar buying este para ti.” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in the top of your head, looking for the source of your scent. You’ve had enough, he’s doing all of this in the middle of the party, and you’re starting to feel a bit embarrassed. You’re pushing him back, slowly walking him to the edges of the party. You feel people staring until you finally hit a wall, pushing a grunt from Miguel. “What is up with you?” Your tone is gentle but you’re getting concerned, you’ve never seen him like this.

His eyes are shut tightly as his brows furrow and he lets out a pathetic whimper. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know.” His hand leaves your stomach to bury in his hair and you instantly miss its warmth. You take a step closer to him, waiting for him to say more. “Can we leave? I think we’ve been here long enough, yeah?” He’s already pulling your hand to the exit. 

He’s silent in the car and on the drive home, constantly running his hand through his hair, and bouncing the leg that isn't on a pedal. You’re taking in his frantic state and notice that through all this, he’s still hard. “Miguel…” He gasps softly and turns to you for a moment. “What’s wrong?

“I don’t-” His eyes dart to your form. “ Your dress for one.” You glance down and wish you hadn’t, you see your stomach split into rolls, folding the fabric of your dress, accentuating the it’s softness. Your arms cross over it, trying to hide and Miguel groans.

“Don’t do that, I told you.” His voice sounds painful and strained. You look back at him to see a distressed look on his face and his hand palming his throbbing cock through his suit pants. “I fucking love her.” His breathing gets heavy, causing him to inhale more of your painfully sweet perfume. “What the fuck is that smell, baby?” 

You can hear him take a big inhale of the air in the car and a shiver runs up his spine. “I’m…” You struggle to round up enough thoughts to answer him, too distracted by the way he crushes his dick against his thigh and the little moans that accompany his movements.  “I’m not wearing perfume, Miguel.”

That's when it hits him. Why he’s so desperate for you, why your scent is clouding his every thought and taking over his mind… You’re ovulating. 

A broken groan rips from his throat at the realization, he speeds the rest of the way home. When you guys finally arrive he parks in the driveway and unlocks the doors, but doesn’t move. “I need you to get out, bonita.”

You feel arousal settle in your stomach as you press your legs together. Miguel’s head falls back, and his hair falls with his head, revealing his red-tipped ears. His hips are still gently thrusting into his hand, the other is squeezing the wheel so hard you thought it might crack. “I- I need a moment, baby. I’ll explain everything, just go inside and-” He lets out a breathless curse and his hips stutter against his palm. “And go change and just- just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there in a moment, go.” You’re in a trance as he speaks but the force in his command shakes you out of it. 

You leave the car silently and make your way to his place. You change out of your clothes in a daze, putting on a tank top and one of his sweatpants as you try to process what just happened. You grab a blanket and wait for Miguel on the couch. 

It’s only a few minutes before you hear his footsteps approaching the door. You stand in front of the doorway, oddly nervous as you watch the knob turn. His eyes meet yours the moment the door opens, his eyes stay on yours as he ducks through the frame, and takes his shoes off. They only tear from yours to take in your new outfit, your lower belly is the first place his eyes land. He gets that weak look in his eye you’ve been seeing all night and his breathing picks up.

Miguel notices the way your stomach sucks in for a moment before relaxing, letting your body be as she is and it making him feral. He needs you so bad, he wants to just take you right here but he promised you an explanation. His eyes flicker up to you and he takes a shaky deep breath and tries to keep his voice steady. “Have a seat, hermosa.”

He looks nervous, he keeps wiping his hands on his suit pants as you walk over to sit on the couch, he seats himself at the other end, across from you. You’re turned to him, legs crossed and laying in his lap. He turns to face you more and accidentally places your legs over his bulge, you can feel his thighs tense as he folds in half, letting out a choked moan that he tries to cover as a cough. You let him think he got away with it, he leaves your legs over his bulge, giving him enough stimulation to think straight. 

You’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain and he decides to just rip the band-aid off. “You’re-” Arousal stabs in his stomach at the sentence he has to utter. He bites into his lip and tries to regulate his breathing. “You’re o- ovulating.” Your legs shift in his lap as your expression falls, embarrassed. “And I can smell it.” 

Your legs pull out of his lap quickly and you bring your knees to your chest. “What?!” You sit up and tuck your legs under you, sitting on your calves. “You can smell it? I’m- God that’s so- I’m so sorry.”

His mind is getting hazy again without your contact. “No. Cariño, not that. It’s not like that.” He sighs at your confusion, he wishes you understood how desperate he was, maybe then you wouldn’t ask him to talk so much, maybe you’d just let him fuck you already. “It’s more like pheromones.”

His hand slides across the couch cushion, wraps around your ankle and slowly drags you toward him. “It’s a change in your personal scent. Your body is trying to trick mine into breeding you, and guess what?” He’s pulled you straight and is crawling up your body, slowly lowering himself against you so his bulge is pressing against your pussy, right over your clit.

 He’s so hard he’s able to split your lips, rubbing the cloth of his sweatpants against your naked pussy and you gasp at the feeling. Your hands slide up from his biceps to pull his head in, anxiously awaiting the rest of his sentence. He smirks at the eager look on your face and leans in, just inches from your lips, and whispers against them. “My body is so gullible for you.” You whimper.

You can feel your entire being heating up as he kisses you so intensely, like he’s trying to devour you. He’s groaning against your lips and licking into your mouth as he wrestles his jacket off. Your hands shoot to his belt and struggle to get it off, whining into the kiss when his belt gets caught on the loops. He smiles into you and his hands come to rest over yours. “Tranquila, bebe. I’m the desperate one, remember?”

You shake your head his words and let him take his pants off while you wiggle out of his sweats. He moans at your bare pussy and his arms give out for a moment, almost dropping his weight on you before catching himself. “N-no panties?” His fingers are on you, rubbing your clit and spreading your slick all over you, coating his fingers in it. He’s being downright messy.

“Miggy- Miguel, I need it so bad- need you so bad. I love you so much. You’re so-” Your mind is already gone as you grind up into his fingers, overwhelmed by the added pleasure of his desperation. He’s groaning into your ear as he humps himself against your thigh in time with his fingers. 

“I don’t know. I need-” You cut him off with a moan and he smiles as you apologize in between whimpers. “I think I’d need to cum in you, cariño. I need- My brain can only focus on-” He groans as you writhe against him, pushing your thigh into his crotch. His head lowers to rest against yours as his fingers speed up inside you. He can feel the way you’re coating them, soaking every crevice with your sweetness. He can feel the way they’re sliding inside you, the way your walls are squeezing him, it’s too much. “I can only think about cumming in you, bebe.” 

Truthfully, his thoughts were more focused on what would come afterward, watching you swell with his child but you guys haven’t even had a conversation about kids yet.

“No.” You whine at him, he feels sadness shoot through his stomach but he tries to mask it. “Just fuck me, please?” You’re looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, your hands around his neck pulling his face impossibly closer as your lips try and lock with his. He nods at you gently, he wants to give you anything you could possibly want.

“Okay, amor.” He kisses you quickly before taking his hands off of you and starts unzipping his pants, pulling himself out of his boxers while you wait. You watch him for a bit as he gets undressed before a thought pushes into your head.

What if I took my top off this time? 

You think it over for a second, you want to be yourself with him, completely and he’s explained his love for your tummy over and over again. 

What could be the worst that happens?

Images of Miguel’s face twitching in disgust flash through your head. Unrealistic scenarios of Miguel pulling away, starting to reject your advances and your kisses plague your brain. 

He wouldn’t do that. 

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet, pulling your tank top over your head quickly and Miguel freezes, causing an abundance of discomfort on your end. You thought this was something he’d want, something he’d like, now that you’ve exposed yourself though, he’s silent. 

You try to stand strong, but your hands are twitching at your sides to cover your stomach. You pray to whatever god there may be that you somehow gain the ability to read his mind, to see his thoughts, to force him to say something… anything. 

His cock pulsing. He’s never seen you completely shirtless, despite being together for over a year. He never wanted to push you, too scared that he’d push you away. He’s seen you with no top but only with a towel over your stomach, or pants pulled over your stomach as you change. But now? Her full glory was on display, there’s a little curve underneath, separating your tummy from your pussy and he’s in love. 

His eyes are zeroed in on your naked stomach and your hands come up to cover it, legs pulling inward as you fold into yourself. He can’t have that. “Don’t” 

His voice is sharp and dark, a strong command but you don’t listen, covering your stomach fully. “It was a bad idea. I’m so uncomfortable, Mig. Can-” You let out a heartbreaking sigh. “Can you just pass me my top?” You threw it down just out of reach and your hands are occupied covering your stomach. Embarrassment is coursing through every vein.

How are we gonna move on from this? I fucking killed the shit out of the mood. Fuck. God, I hate this. 

“No.” He’s moving back toward you, climbing up your body again, ignoring the obvious confusion you’re facing. You curl in even more which just upsets him. He grabs your leg and pulls, forcing you out of your ball before pinning it under his own. “Uh-” You let out a noise of surprise but Miguel pays it no mind as he reaches for your arms. He takes both of your wrists in his hand and pins them above your head, holding them there as he admires your tummy. 

Your heart is racing but you don’t struggle. Miguel is looking at you like to most amazing piece of art and you’d do anything- anything- for him to keep going. You feel yourself leaking between your legs as he just stares. His breathing is slow and shaky and his brows keep furrowing, like he’s having an internal battle with himself. He takes another breath and exhales through his mouth, letting his breath fan over your face before releasing your wrists and leg. 

He’s waiting for you to pull your hands back down, cover one of your most beautiful features… but you don’t. 

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. “Can you please, please, fuck me now?” His face twitches before he smiles, taking a deep breath as he pulls away. He kisses your chest as he slowly rises, his hand already on his cock, pumping himself gently as he aligns himself with your entrance. You’re gripping the cushions with all your strength as he works himself in. 

He’s worried. You feel insane around him, the softest thing he’s ever felt, extra wet and open for him to breed you. His mind keeps wandering back to cumming inside you, even though you said no. He’s walking the line of some dangerous thoughts. 

I am stronger than her…

He shakes the thought out of his head and focuses on you. The way you’re moaning his name like it’s the only thing you know, your hips are growing frantic as the grind up against him. “Miggy-“

“Amor.” He smiles at the moan that rips from your chest as you bury yourself in his neck. His hips speed up at the sounds of your moans right next to his ear, your breath tickling the shell of it.  

“‘M gonna- “ Miguel cuts you off with a growl and his brows furrow. He doubles down on his thrusts, bringing his hands to the small of your back, gripping you hard and fucking you into his cock. 

It’s going to take a serious amount of focus to keep his orgasm at bay until you’re done. “Go- Fuck. No, just wait, baby.” You let out a confused noise at his command. He’s never asked you to hold it before. 

“Fuck! Mi- I don’t know how!” Your sentence turns into a sob as he watches your body tense up, pulling all your muscles tight and gripping the roots of his hair. “Haah- Miguel. Baby, I ca- an’t. Please let-“ 

A moan stops your sentence as Miguel presses onto your womb, forcing his cock against your walls, stretching you even more. You feel so full you don’t know what’s happening. Your eyes are wide as you stare at his hand, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. They’re frantic, desperate and wild when they meet yours. 

His panting aggressively, intermittently pausing so he can try and regulate his breathing. You’re staring into his eyes, shocked at his reaction and a smirk pushes its way into your face before you moan at him again. He pulls his hand away from your womb like it burned him and pulls out, gripping the base of his cock so hard it must hurt. 

You were so close, teetering on the edge, just hearing Miguel utter your name could’ve tipped you over… but he pulled out instead. “Miguel!!! Why? I- I’ve been good, haven’t I?” 

Your desperate pleads are worsening his situation. He ignores your words and starts rubbing your clit, his fingers moving over the little bud lightning fast. “I’m not punishing you, bebé bonita”

You whine at the love name and grip his arm, trying to pull him closer to you. “No puedo correrme dentro de ti and I’m… I’m too close right now, cariño.”

You’re trying to push his hand away now, shaking your head and whining. “S’okay”

Your yanking at his arm, trying to get him back over you. “Cum inside, Miggy.” 

His eyes widen and he doesn’t move. He honestly thinks he’s hearing things at this point, fantasizing without realizing but you’re look at him all shy and expectant. So you actually said something… “W-“ He takes a deep breath. “What?”

You whine at him and avert your eyes as your legs slowly spread for him. “You- You wanted to, right? I want it…” You whine at the thought. “I need it, Miggy.”

His vision blurs as he reaches out for you, lining himself up as quickly as he can. He can already feel his balls pulsing, tensing and preparing a load for you, for your pussy, your womb. 

It’s worse than the first time he ever had sex with you. Every nerve is alight, he can feel every little detail in your pretty, perfect pussy. On top of that, you’re moaning like he’s never heard before, louder, more high pitched, more desperate than earlier and they’d already shocked him then. He can’t. 

“Mm- Not- fuck. I’m not gonna last. Not even a min- shit. Oh my god, cariño. Not even gonna last a minute. Fuck me, niña bonita.” Your almost screaming his name at his words, his languid pace and the way he’s literally shaking for you. “Gonna- shi-it.” His words sound like broken sobs as his tip gently abuses your cervix. 

You’ve pulsing around him, trying everything you can to wait for him so you can milk him while he pumps you full. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna cum in- in you, baby. Voy a follarte un bebé, amor. Te dejaré embarazada, te mantendré llena de mí en todo momento. Mierda. Te verás tan hermosa, manteniendo a nuestro bebé protegido en tu grueso útero. Oh, joder"

(“I'm going to fuck a baby into you, love. I will get you pregnant, I'll keep you full of me at all times. Shit. You will look so beautiful, keeping our baby protected in your thick womb. Oh fuck.”)

Your eyes roll back and the coil in your stomach snaps as Miguel rambles, hips thrusting into yours gently, his gaze on the back of his skull. You’re fucking yourself on him as best you can in this position. It’s awkward and over-exerting but completely worth it when you hear a whine of your name and Miguel’s cock starts throbbing inside you. 

Twitching once, twice, before hardening even more and pouring a torrent of cum into your waiting pussy. He’s the loudest you’ve ever heard. Moaning out your name on repeat, thanking you for letting him cum in you with a lot of other Spanish sentences in between. 

His hand presses to your womb as he winds down but his cock twitches out another load as he pushes down, fucking into you slowly again. “Te amo tanto, mi querida. No puedo imaginar la vida sin ti. Una vida en la que no tendrás mis hijos, en la que no estemos casados…” His entire body shudders as he finally stops pouring into you. 

(“I love you so much, my dear. I can’t imagine life without you. A life where you don’t bear my children, in which we aren’t married…”)

He leans down and kisses you slowly, eyes hooded but still focused on you. Your eyes are teary and trying to shut, exhausted from the entire night. Miguel keeps pressing kisses all over you as you drift off. 

“Un mundo sin ti es uno en el que no podría vivir, amor.”

(“A world without you is one I couldn't live in, love.”)

Thank you so mcuh for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miggy o’hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara spider man #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 miguel o'hara #2099 #sm 2099 #miguel 2099 #marvel 2099 #miguel o hara #astv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel x you #atsv #luvrxsmut #luvrxfics

[nylonistagirls]

feeling in a red mood . maybe it’s the @chiefs @Super Bowl win, but feel like wearing @maxmara arona #wool #belted #wrap #coat @bergdorfs . #ootd #trend #cool #style #inspiration #glam #mood #posh #fashion #nylonista #blogger #shopping (at New York, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/ComnxnMO0bB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#wool #belted #wrap #coat #ootd #trend #cool #style #inspiration #glam #mood #posh #fashion #nylonista #blogger #shopping

[tsaritza-mika]

Sorry not Sorry guys...

I respect all your inter-companion romance ships, and I hope they bring you joy and endless inspiration, but I have a primal need for something different. I don't need my companions dating each other.

I need them to be the most dysfunctional yet supportive found family they can be

I need Karlach to be literal 'Mama K' and grab Shadowheart and Lae'zel by the scruff and put them on coat hangers, telling them that if they can't say anything nice, then shut the fuck up for five minutes and if they can do that, then she'll come and let them down

I need Astarion and Gale to get into such a spat that all dignity and posh goes out the fucking window, and they devolve into two grown-ass men having a 13-year-old style slap fight while calling each other the harshest of obscenities, but if anyone from the outside tries calling either of them less than fabulous, they join forces and fuck them up

I need Wyll, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel to do each other's hair while discussing all the ways they've taken down various opponents and monsters, and how they would have done things better

I need Jaheira just smacking everyone upside the head whenever they say or do something stupid. Because gods dammit why is she always the only one who can see trouble from a hundred miles away, only to have her perception check fail and stumble right into a trap Halsin had set up to catch food for dinner

I need Astarion to embroider offensive cross stitch into every other companion's tents when he's left behind at camp, for no other reason than he's feeling salty that day

I need Halsin to wildshape into a bear just so he can surprise Karlach with an actual bear and Clive having a tea party with flower crowns and drawings of the horrible ways Gortash will be killed

I need Shadowheart being a petty bitch and letting anyone who was being especially stupid in a fight get a little too close to death as punishment before finally healing them. Because that's just what healers do

I need Gale pranking people with his spells. Use mage hand to yank the rug out from under Lae'zel after she insisted that he was too squishy to fight properly. Casting 'create water' over Shadowheart to ruin her makeup in retaliation for saying last night's stew was a bit bland. Use Telekinesis to fling Astarion off in some random direction because dammit Gale just woke up, and the man needs his coffee before he can properly deal with all of that first thing in the damn morning

I need Lae'zel to take pillow fights just a little too seriously

I need Wyll begging Halsin and Jaheira if they can wildshape into a bear and a shark just so he can ride both of them through the Chionthar while recklessly casting Fireball and Lightning Bolt at the sky, because just think of how cool he would look doing it

#I just need this #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 wyll #bg3 halsin #bg3 jaheira #bg3 karlach #bg3 gale #bg3 headcanons #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #random thoughts #astarion ancunin #shadowheart #lae'zel #lae'zel of k'liir #jaheira #karlach cliffgate #halsin silverbough #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

[ludicdoll]

𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

farleigh start ☆

pairing: farleigh start x fem!reader

contents: smoking, farleigh actually being nice, oliver hate train

synopsis: farleigh finds you drunk and alone outside of a party.

a/n: some soft farleigh content cuz i feel like i never write about him like this enoughhh

you don’t know what happened, but you were sitting outside on the steps of the stairs leading up to the loud party, your coat half way off your shoulders, and one of your heels seemed to have broken off. you had one too many drinks and now you were all alone, shivering and fidgeting with your dress. you came to the party with your friends, but they disappeared on you while you were throwing up in the bathroom. you frown as you frantically ask people leaving the club if you could catch a ride with them to get back to your dorm, but they all declined and quickly sped past you. you groan loudly, the door behind you swinging open and closes with a loud thud, the sound of a lighter igniting making you turn around. you look over your shoulder, sighing in relief when you see a familiar face. “farleigh,” you breathe out. he lights the cigarette in his mouth before looking down at the steps.

his face shifts, eyes widening slightly. “oh, it’s you.” he says. you pout, confused with his sarcastic tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask as you make an attempt to get up before quickly tumbling forwards due to your broken heel. you catch yourself on the railing, turning back around and slumping over to farleigh. “god, you’re a fucking mess.” he teases, the smoke from his cigarette filling the deck. he has an amused expression on his face, almost like he was holding back a laugh. he scoots over to make more space for you, pulling out another cigar from his pocket. you smell the faint scent of his signature bold cologne, whiskey on his breathe. you lean against the cold bricks, taking the cigar from his fingers. he lights up your cigarette from your mouth, his eyes glistening from the flame. farleigh looks down at your feet, arching a brow at the heel hanging off from the bottom of the shoe. “i partied too hard.” you slur out. he rolls his eyes, laughing at your joke.

he seemed more assertive and calm right now, not his like usual upbeat, dickhead self. he looked tired, his eyes were low and dark, his curls slightly disheveled—but he still looked posh and perfect. you and farleigh weren’t exactly friends per se, you knew each other through felix but rarely talked outside of that. although, when you did get the chance to talk to farleigh alone, you realized his bold demeanor changed when it came to you. he still had that sassy, asshole-ish pep and tone to him, but he was nice when he wanted to be. “where’s your squad?” you ask, he looks confused. “my squad?” he repeats.

“yea, annabel, alicia, felix, oli—”

“ah, tut, tut.” farleigh quickly cuts you off with a finger, “we don’t talk about him.” he groans as he blows the thin line of smoke out of his mouth.

you scoff, “why…why do you hate him so much?” he looks down at you, a bleak expression on his face. “because.” you cock your head to the side, squinting. “because, what?” you press. he clicks his tongue, ignoring your question. farleigh clenches his jaw. you both go silent, just soaking in the dark sky and the muffled music from inside the building. “farleigh,” you mumble as you draw away from your cigarette. “mhm?” he hums back, his eyelids low and fixated on you. “can you walk me to my dorm?” he raises his brows, a small smirk forming on his lips. “please,” you whine. “you can’t leave a drunk girl unattended on the streets—plus, my heel is broken!” you point back to your feet. farleigh looks at you up and down for a while before clearing his throat. you lean closer to him, your shoulder touching his arm. you look up at him with pleading eyes as he lets out an annoyed moan and turns away.

“fuck, fine.” he says in defeat. farleigh drops his cigarette on the deck, putting it out with his foot. you quirk up from the wall, stumbling back. farleigh launches forward, instantly grabbing your arm to prevent you from falling. he pulls you closer to his body, rolling his eyes. “you’re gonna bust your ass if you keep walking around like that.” he mutters into your ear as he swings his arm over your shoulder. you giggle, raising your cigarette again to your lips. “you’re so nice, far.” you hiccup as he looks down at you, a surprised expression on his face from the nickname. “sure. you’re lucky i’m here to help you instead of that weirdo.” he strides forward as you trip over your own feet trying to catch up with him. “who?” you inquire. “you know who.” he replies. you furrow your brows and look around for a second before realizing he was talking about oliver.

“i thought you came with your friends.” he says. “i did.” you reply, “where are they? why don’t they take you back to the dorms?” you watch your feet as you step on the cracks of the sidewalk. “mm, i don’t know.” you admit shyly. “they ditched me, i think.” you mumble under your breath. farleigh laughs quietly, patting your shoulder in a sympathetic manner. you both walked in silence for a while, his arm wrapped tightly around you. you felt your face heating up and your knees wobbling underneath you everytime his cold fingers grazed your bare skin. his curls fell perfectly in front of his eyes, his confident grin only making you melting into his touch. you pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind, trying to focus on walking without tripping over something.

the club wasn’t that far from oxford, it was just a few minutes away in walking distance—and you were thankful for that since your feet were slowly killing you. you close your eyes and lay your head against his arm as he continues to lead you through the grounds of the school.

when you open your eyes again, you realize you’re already in the dorm hallways. farleigh walks around for a minute until he abruptly stops in front of your door. “you remembered?” you peer up at him, shocked he knew where your dorm was. “of course, how could i forget the day you had a mental break down and called everybody to your room?” he replies sarcastically. his hand travels down your waist to your bag, searching for your keys. you yawn as he finally inserts the key inside the lock, pushing the door open with his foot as you stumble in his arms. you walk over to your bed, instantly falling face first into your mattress. you hear your keys being set on your desk, then the lamp being switched on—the room illuminated in a dim warm light. farleigh mutters a quiet “oh god” under his breath as he unstraps your heels off your feet, tossing them by the pile of clothes in the corner of your room. “this place is a mess, y’know?”

“uh huh,” you reply mindlessly as you dig yourself deeper in the warm sheets of your bed. you watch as farleigh walks over to you, looking down at your slumped figure with his hands on his hips.

“you gonna be okay?” he asks. you look up at him, letting out an inaudible noise, blabbering something. he pinches his nose bridge, softly laughing in response. farleigh slowly backs away from the edge of the bed—turning around to leave the room, but your hand quickly clutches onto his wrist before he can walk away. “farleighhhh…” you moan out. he turns around, his eyes softening as he looks at your hand around his.

“can you stay with me?” you whisper.

the room is silent, only the sound of his breathing and the crickets outside the window filling the room. you blink, the feeling of sleep slowly taking over your body. “please,” you mutter as you shift your head so you’re looking directly up at him. for a second, he doesn’t respond, the moonlight casting a shadow over his features. “okay,” farleigh sighs as he kneels down next to your bed. you still haven’t let go of his hand, your fingers tightly wrapped around his wrist. you smile sheepishly, giggling when he grimaces and rolls his eyes at your bubbly demeanor. you nuzzle your face against your soft pillows, closing your eyes. farleigh slides his hand away from your grip but goes back to move your hair away from your eyes. “thank you for walking with me.” you say.

farleigh nods, his eyes focused on your tired face. “yea, of course.” he replies.

© do not publish my work on other sites.

#archie madekwe #archie madekwe x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh #saltburn #farleigh catton #saltburn x reader #farleigh start

[jk66m]

𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒₊˚❀₊˚.

— 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

How the men of the Spiderverse ask you to be their date for prom. Based on this request.

paring: Hobie Brown × Fem!Reader, Spider Noir (he's 19 y'all) × Fem!Reader, Miles Morales (earth 1610) × Fem!Reader

genre: Fluffy drabbles & headcanons, SFW

notes: For this headcannon I will mainly focus on teens and younger characters as they are closer to the age range for prom.

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐢𝐫

Noir is old fashioned, so he will definitely be the type to pull out a bouquet of roses, a romantic letter, and maybe even a box of chocolate for his promposal. He will ask you directly as he thinks it shows his sincerity and love for you more (and he also thinks that it is not proper to ask someone indirectly for an event as grand as this).

"Ah thank you for escorting me home tonight Peter," you said sweetly as you walked the final steps of the staircase to your apartment complex.

Peter nodded, silently trailing behind you. It is midnight, a dangerous time for young high school girls such as yourself to roam around the streets (albeit you are eighteen and an official adult, he does not trust men).

"So, I will just go in now," you pointed towards the door, "I will see you next weekend."

"Wait," he suddenly stops you.

Peter pulls out from his coat pocket an envelope and from behind his back a bouquet of fresh red roses.

"Would you be my date?"

You gasp. "Why of course Peter!"

You jump into his strong arms and he swings you around.

Once you are put on the floor again, you peck him on the lips to which he responds passionately, gnawing your tender flesh and hands all over your body.

His touches are ticklish. Your sounds of laughter resonates through the building, and Peter chuckles along with you.

You suddenly stop, seemingly realizing something.

"Wait, how did I not notice you got a whole bouquet of roses right behind you?"

Peter looks away.

"Um... that does not matter."

♱‧₊˚ 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧

Hobie would ask you out in confidence and style. He will plan a surprise for you for his promposal, and it will be extremely prepared and ready. He is not exactly the lovey-dovey type but he has a way with words and that pulls you in.

"Oh what is this?" You asked yourself as you entered your apartment.

The space is decorated strings strings of lights in the ceilings and a path of scattered rose petals leading to the kitchen — all obviously the works of your boyfriend Hobie.

"Hmm..?”

You follow the path into the room to a wall with a blue note taped to it.

"Go to the study room," you read, "Oh," You notice something.

Below the note on the desktop you see a small box wrapped in patterned paper. You quickly open it.

In it, contains a brand new copy of the ring that you had lost on your first date with Hobie. You had told him it is an important item left by your mother, you did not expect him to actually remember it.

"Oh my god."

The heartfelt present roused your interest for what would come next, and you quickly follow the clue and goes into the study room.

You arrive in front of your office table and sees a yellow note taped to it with a red box placed beside it.

You open it, and pick up a phone decorated in stylish stickers.

Examining the work more closely, you take notice of the additional buttons and pieces cleverly induced into it, probably made for applications of sorts that normal phones could not achieve.

Chest filled with happiness, you grab the note and reads out the next clue.

"Go to the bedroom."

You do so contently.

On your bed scatters a variety of bags and boxes of snacks that you love. Against the headboards sits a cardboard sign with words written in colored marker: ___ would you go to prom with me?

A large cut-out arrow below the text points towards the balcony, and you scream as you noticed who is there.

Hobie, dressed in posh couture, stood cross-legged leaning against the railings. He has a bouquet of flowers in his hand, seemingly freshly picked.

"Since when did you get in here?"

You went to hug him, and he pulls you closer for a peck on the forehead.

"Not too long ago."

"You surprised me."

"I know."

He kisses you again on the lips this time, passionately.

"So what's the answer huh?" He murmured against you, "I prepared so much for this."

"It's a yes, obviously."

“…Hmm I want to celebrate this, with something more physical."

You give him a look, and he stares at you right back mischievously.

"Come on, is your acceptance not worth celebrating?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

Miles would be so adorable when asking you out, like he will be dressed up in his best shirts and kicks, and would definitely be the type to be nervously knocking on your door. He thought about asking you on text before because he knows he will probably be super nervous, but he feel like that will show that he is not sincere, so he asked you in person instead. He's awkward, but in a cute way where you just could not reject him.

Maybe he should go. Maybe he should head back, lay back onto the comfort of his bed, and just take his time to make a well-written text message to ask you out.

But he is already at the steps of your door. He has flowers and gifts. And he knows you would not be satisfied with just a text. (who would?)

He rings the bell once more.

Miles only realizes how heartdropping it is to ask someone to prom just now. His heart is thumping, his belly is flipping, and despite years of athletic building as Spider-Man, his legs felt like two wobbly sticks of clumpy jello.

The door opens. His breath stops.

"Who are you?"

A man appears in the doorway, looking at him up and down.

"Um, I am here for ___,” Miles reports.

The man nods and turns back and calls out your name.

You quickly run down the staircase and meets Miles on the steps.

"Would you like to go to prom with me?"

He hands you the flowers and the card and the chocolates.

You look at him in a daze.

"I-um of course."

You watch the edges of Miles's lips slowly grow upwards.

"Nice."

#miles morales fanfiction #miles morales #miles morales headcanons #miles morales fic #miles morales x reader #miles morales fluff #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader fluff #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk x y/n #spider punk #hobie brown fluff #spiderman fanfiction #hobie brown fic #hobie brown headcanons #spiderman into the spiderverse #spider noir x reader #spider noir #spiderman noir x reader #spiderman noir #spider noir fluff #fluff #spider noir x you #spiderman headcanon #request #miles morales imagine #hobie brown imagine #spider noir imagine

[marsdreamworld]

How Sweet It is to be Loved by You - LN4 x reader:

Mars’ Notes: I’ve never ever written anything like this before, but after rambling at @love-belle for a stupid amount of time, i thought why not? surprised it ended up being for lando and not charles but if this goes well i might j start writing a bit more!! anyways, i’m excited, please lmk what you think <333

Warnings: None!! super super fluffy :)

Description: Lando comes home to you, and everything is ok again.

————————————————————

Lando was exhausted. He loved his job, the roaring of engines, the loud shouts that always seemed to accompany the mechanics as they made any pre-race adjustments to his Mclaren, the screams of fans in the grandstands and during fan stages, but god, sometimes all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around your waist, bury his face in your neck and never leave. You were his peace, his moment of quiet in an otherwise hectic day. He missed you, and you were his rock during race weekends. He had spent the last week wishing you were with him and cheering him on from your spot in the garage.

“Lando? You ok, mate?”

Danny’s voice broke him out of his stupor, bringing his mind back to the private jet he was currently sat in, accompanied by the older driver. Just three more hours, and you can hug her all you want, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, fine, mate. Just wondering what’s for dinner.” he said, a smile on his face.

“If you say so” comes the reply, accompanied by a bright, dimpled smile.

————————————

After a hectic run through security and the throng of fans that were waiting diligently for him at the gate, Lando had finally made it home, his hands trembling at the prospect of finally kissing you again as he pushed his key into the lock of your shared flat.

“Lando? Is that you, my love?”

Your voice floated through the hallway, and he visibly relaxed - he was finally home, he was finally with you, and there was nowhere he’d rather be.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me. Were you hoping for someone else?” he teased, seeing you emerge from your bedroom, clad only in one of his favourite Quadrant hoodies, and fluffy socks, your hair falling around your face in messy waves, silver wire-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of your nose. You padded over, soft footfalls echoing, until you were stood in front of him.

“Oh shush and hug me, you muppet.”

He closed the gap between you, and wrapped his arms around your waist, melting into you.

“God, I missed you”, he said, his voice muffled by your neck. You giggled and reached up to hug him back, carding your hands through his hair and leaving sweet kisses wherever you could reach.

“I missed you more, love. Would you mind helping me with something quickly?”, you mumbled into his hair, “I know you’re tired, and it’s been a long day, I just think my brain’s gone to mush and I can barely read what I’m writing.”

He lifted his head, and simply smiled at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek, “That’s what I’m here for, remember? Moral support and grammar police” he said, winking at you in an effort to make you laugh. You looked stressed, and he could tell you had been working away at your essay for far too long already, the pressure weighing heavily on your shoulders. “I’m assuming it’s another essay for class?”

“Mhmm, the professor decided it would be a good time to assign a stupid essay two weeks before midterms.” Your eye roll and answering nod was all it took for Lando to toe his shoes off, leaving his bags and coat by the door before he dragged you back into the bedroom, dramatically flipping into the double bed that occupied the corner, landing amongst the multitude of stuffed toys that had migrated to his side of the bed in the short time he was away.

“Right then, Ms. L/N, get your pretty arse over here and read me this essay.” he said, posing and putting on his best posh British accent, earning a laugh out of you. This was what Lando lived for, these quiet moments of domesticity where all he could hear was your laugh and he could revel in the fact that it was him, him who made you laugh and him who had the pleasure of hearing it.

You grabbed your notebook from the desk you had set up opposite the bed, claiming that you worked better when you knew Lando was close to you, and walked over to the bed, climbing in and placing his head in your lap.

A reporter had once asked him a question along the lines of “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?” He had, of course, answered with the typical “on a race track”, the answer that wouldn’t have the Mclaren PR team screaming at him post press conference, but if he really had to pick, he would say with you. Anywhere with you was where he wanted to be, but he felt so at peace here, in your bedroom, with his head on your lap and your hand in his hair, your voice soft and sweet as you read him the opening paragraphs of your midterm essay.

Lando nuzzled further into your thighs, your nails now scratching across his scalp in a way that made him feel boneless. He could feel his eyes slowly slipping closed, the warmth and comfort lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

———————-

You were three paragraphs in when you stumbled on your words, struggling to understand a sentence you’d written.

“See, that’s the sentence I really don’t get. It just sounds so chunky and I really have no idea how to make it flow more, you know? I know it needs to be technical, it is an engineering essay after all, but it just sounds so hard to read and I don’t know how to make it sound better.”

You waited for Lando to tell you that you’d made a silly grammar mistake, or that you just had to split the sentence in two to make it more digestible, but you were met with silence. Looking down at your lap, you saw Lando asleep, smile painted on his face, a hand placed on your thigh, grip tight as though he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t move.

Lando had come into your life in the most unexpected way you could have imagined - cliché, but unexpected. You’d been waiting in line at a coffee shop, needing your daily dose of caffeine before your 9AM university lecture, and he had walked straight into you, a steaming hot Americano cradled in his hands, which had eventually made quick work of staining the cream bodysuit you had chosen for the day. He’d apologised countless times, turning back to grab a stack of tissues, even going so far as to attempt to rub the stain off, but had only succeeded in making it worse. You’d simply laughed, and told him that he really should go order another coffee, before the morning rush took over. He’d stared at you, open mouthed and speechless, before stammering through an affirmative and walking away. The next 5 minutes were spent throwing glances at each other through the crowd of people occupying the store, before he broke and asked for your number, stating that he at least owed you a new shirt, and perhaps even a date? It had been natural, and felt right from the moment he picked you up at 8 the following Friday, dressed in a suit and armed with roses.

You took one last look at the essay in your hands, and made the incredibly easy decision to call it a day. You placed the stack of papers on the bedside table, shifting in order to reach, only to have Lando grip onto you tighter, a mumble of “stay” escaping his pouted lips. Your heart clenched, and you couldn’t help but coo back that you weren’t going anywhere, my love, go back to sleep. You cleared as much of the bed as you could without disturbing your boy, and leaned back into the pillows you’d stacked behind you earlier in the day, Lando nuzzling further into your stomach, whining until you bring your hand back to his curls. As you shift, Lando reaches out to wind his hands around your waist, pulling you closer even in his sleep. You smile to yourself, and turn the small lamp on the side table off - your boy was home, and everything was alright.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 x female reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris au #lando norris imagines #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris fluff #fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 fic #f1 fluff #mars.writes

[serenecypher]

Bangtan Host Club Chapter One

Genre: BTS Ot7xf!Reader, Poly!AU, Fluff, Romance, Crack-ish, Eventual Smut.

W/C: 2600

Summary: Tired of your boring mundane life? Become an exclusive member of The Bangtan Host Club™ today and let 7 charming men help you out.

Warnings: This chapter is rated PG13, but future chapters may include Mature Themes.

Disclaimer: Please do not copy/translate or cross-post my work. The tag list is open. just DM or send an ask to be included.

A/N: Here is the first chapter for Bangtan Host Club! Hope you enjoy it. Send me any feedback you have, it would be greatly appreciated. Also, as I said before, the characters of the boys are inspired by the manga and anime Ouran High School Host Club. If you haven't seen it, please watch it. Make your guesses on who plays who in the replies lol

If we are all being honest, you are going through it. 

Chapter 1 >> Chapter 2

You’ve spent the last two hours trudging across the same corridor, smelling the clinical scent of the same floor disinfectant that is starting to make your nose itch, waiting for this damned locksmith to show up. You have managed to lock yourself out of your apartment that you moved in about two weeks ago, by the way, and as your landlord has so kindly bestowed upon you the singular contact, called the locksmith about three times.

There is only one other apartment on your floor and your sweet old lady neighbor has gone to the countryside to live with her grandson for the month, leaving you all on your own. Your day had been exhausting at work already and you had put all your hopes into getting home and numbing the pain away with takeout and binge-watching. You clutch your phone tighter in your hand and decide that this is going to be it. You are going to call the locksmith, and you are going to complain, and they are going to listen and come help you in the next ten minutes. The steps are all clear, so you dial the number again.

It's picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?” the same gruff voice you’d talked to thirty minutes ago answers.

“Uh, Hi, I had called earlier, about losing my apartment key? Mr. Choi’s building?”, you rush out the words as fast as possible. 

“Oh yeah, someone will be there with you shortly.”, the man replies, you distinctly hear the sound of a baseball game in the background. The man gulps something on the other end and mutters, “You need to relax a little, lady. There is no need to get your panties all up in a bunch, have patience.” He burps and the line disconnects.

“Motherf-”, you whisper to no one but yourself. Did this random guy just try to “little girl” you? What has the world come to? Who talks to other people like that? Isn’t he supposed to be doing a service for you? All men have, is the audacity. This world is a rotten cesspool filled with misogynists and bigots and- oh my god you need a coffee. Right now. 

So you decide to do that, any potential help arriving to get your door opened be damned. You have waited for them to show up for hours, they can wait for a few minutes for you. You make your way down the two flights of stairs and walk out of the building. There is a cafe on this block you haven’t had the time to check out yet and every time you walked past it on your daily morning commute, it was always closed. You make your way to the cafe, bracing yourself against the cool fall wind by pulling your coat closer. 

As you approach the entrance of the cafe, it looks pretty standard. You see a beautiful wooden carved sign that indicates the cafe is open. You push open the door and the sweet aroma of roasted coffee beans and baked items engulfs you like a warm blanket. You look around to see the cafe looks much more posh on the inside than you expected it to be. 

The walls are painted pink, some covered by ceiling-length artsy mirrors. There are a few round tables on the checkered tiled floor, with inviting plush chairs and a flower vase each as the centerpiece. From the ceiling hang off a few ambient lights and ceiling flowers in pink, white, and lilac, making the entire aesthetic of the interior pretty and bright. Some plants that look well taken care of and books on a few shelves, stacked neatly. 

“Are you waiting for me to walk you in, beautiful?” a man’s voice spoke from beside you, pulling you out of your daze. You turn around and face the source of the voice with a stern gaze only to be met with the face of the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. You open your mouth and close it right back up again as you stare at him. He isn’t just pretty, this man is gorgeous… like ‘I should only exist on the pages of a fashion magazine’ gorgeous. He gives you a dazzling smile and extends his hand for yours, bowing slightly to you.

“Ah! I haven’t even introduced myself to you. That’s on me. I am Kim Seokjin. It would be my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am the owner of this cafe.” Seokjin, as you’ve learned, looks at you expectantly, his smile not falling once. 

You give him your name and manage to put your hand in front of you. He promptly takes it in his and raises it to his pillowy lips, brushing them on your knuckles with a soft brush. “You have such a sweet name,” he speaks against your knuckles, and looks up to meet your eyes to add, “I feel like I could say it all my life.”

This guy is throwing you for a loop. He is too good-looking and by the looks of what he is wearing, too expensive and- why can’t you seem to look away from his eyes? That thought is enough to bring you back to your surroundings as you feel heat rush up your face. “I wanted a coffee.” You sound dumb even in your head but Seokjin only smiles at you.

“Of course, pretty. Here, let me help with your coat.” Seokjin moves behind you, gently pulling your coat off of you with a hum. Your eyes wander towards the register area of the cafe and lock with the barista behind the counter. He gives you a smile and you can hear violins playing in the background. 

“Feel free to walk in, I will just put your coat away and join you in no time.” Seokjin speaks from beside you, and you nod as you step in and towards the cute barista. His smile widens and it looks like the world’s worth of warmth is on his face. 

“Hi there! What can I get for you?” he asks you, placing his palms on the counter and leaning in. “I am hoping you like sweets so that we can share some.” his giggles punctuate the end of his sentence as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Um, what do you recommend…?” 

“Hoseok. It’s my name.” he looks at you through his lashes. You feel like you can see his eyes sparkling. A moment of silence passes between you before he is bouncing on his heels and snickering at you. “You are so cute! I am not saying I am the recommendation, silly! I am just giving you my name so I can have yours. We are going to be friends, right?”

You find yourself grinning and nodding as you tell him your name. His face lights up even further if that is even possible, and he recommends to you the name of a few drinks and even more sweet baked goods. He is giggling with you when he scribbles your order in his notepad and adds little doodles around the words. You spy little stars and smiley faces that fill the cover of his tiny notepad. 

“You should go sit, I will send someone with the order to you. Then we can share something and play together!” Hoseok points you in the direction of a table as he is skipping toward a door behind him, which you assume is the kitchen. You turn and walk to the nearest table to take a seat.

You notice there is a little metallic card holder next to the flower vase on the table. You pick it up to inspect it. It's a tiny welcome menu for the cafe, which is not a card but a small flip book. When you turn it over on the front, it reads “Bangtan Host Club™”. Curiously, you flip through the contents of the pages and you notice there are pictures of Hoeseok and Seokjin on the inside along with a small paragraph about their interests. 

That’s strange. Why are the employees’ personalities displayed in such a way? Sure, some places do ‘employee of the month’ type events but this seems like an exaggeration. Maybe this place just does them this way. Still, it feels pretty random to you. 

“Do you like one of us?” A snicker breaks you out of your engrossment. You blink up as a chair quickly scrapes the floor next to you on your left.

“She doesn’t have to pick one of us. She can have more, right, pretty girl?” A voice from the seat chimes in. You whip your head towards it and come face to face with a man with the face of an angel but a smile that tells more about him than it should. You hear the chair on your right scraping the floor next and you turn your head just in time to see a second beautiful man sitting in it with his chest pressed to the back and his legs spread on either side of the chair. He looks into your eyes and a playful smile plays on his lips.

When your eyes linger on him too long, you are met with a complaint. “Stop hogging all of her attention, Hyung! I wanna talk to her too!” You turn your head back to your left and see the man from before, now leaning his elbow on the table and resting his temple on his knuckles. He smiles at you when you turn and he looks an awfully lot like a bunny. “I am Jungkook. He is Taehyung. Now you have to tell us your name.” He lifts an eyebrow at you, tilting his chin down with a grin.  

Taehyung pushes a loose strand of your hair behind your ear when you tell them your name to get you to look at him. When you turn to face him you notice he is leaning in closer to you than before. He simply smiles at you as you feel goosebumps ignite on the back of your neck and arms. “Sensitive, huh?” Taehyung teases as his tongue peeks out of his mouth subtly but enough to pull your attention to his soft lips. 

“She is! She is so shy too. Why don’t you talk to us…?” Jungkook draws out his sentence as you feel him leaning into your left side. If you keep turning your head between the both of them like this, you are surely going to get whiplash but you can’t help it when Jungkook is tracing a finger on your arm where the goosebumps are as if he can sense them under the material of your shirt. 

“Wh-what is going on?” you ask, confused beyond belief at the stuttering of your heart in your chest. 

“Tae, Jungkook, give the girl some room to breathe, please.” A soft voice breaks you out of whatever spell those two had you under. A new person walks around to sit across the table from you. He is so elegant in his movements that you are instantly captivated by him and then he gives you a soft smile that makes his eyes turn into little crescent moons. “Sorry about them, they get carried away sometimes. My name is Jimin. It’s so nice to meet you.”

You feel an air of relief flood your veins at his comforting smile and the way he looks at you so earnestly. You give him a shaky smile. “It's nothing. I am just a little confused.”

“Hyung, I can't believe that you, of all people, are doing this right now. You broke all of the tension we created with her and now she is just confused and not charmed like she is supposed to be.” Jungkook pouted at Jimin with Taehyung nodding vehemently in agreement. 

“If she is confused, what are you charming her for? Just give her some space to be comfortable.” Jimin says with a sense of compassion for you and brings his warm gaze back to you. “Did you order a drink yet? Want me to get you the menu?”

As if right on cue, the door from the kitchen swings open, harder than probably necessary, and a man holding a tray of your order walks out. He is tall, well-built, has a strong gaze, and is absolutely beautiful. He places your order in front of you gently and gives you a nod. 

“Thank you.” You smile at him and he returns yours with one of his own. You notice he has dimples. It makes your damn heart swoon. Then he turns his attention to Taehyung and Jungkook and reaches down to pull the chairs they are sitting on just a little bit away from you like it was nothing to him. 

“Thanks, Namjoon Hyung. I would do that too if I could.” Jimin nods appreciatively at him which is returned in kind with a nod and a gentle smile. 

“What we all should be grateful for is that Namjoon Hyung didn’t pull her whole chair up in the air like that one time with Hobi Hyung.” Taehyung chides which is instantly met with a stern gaze by both Namjoon and Jimin.

“Ugh, who cares about all of that.” Jungkook intervenes and focuses back on you. “I have never seen you before. What brings you here?” he adds and brings the attention of the other three back on you as well.

“I am locked out of my apartment and the locksmith won’t show up. I live on this block. Mr. Choi’s building?” You reply and it surprises you that you had forgotten all about the terrible day you had before you’d entered this cafe. You take a sip of your drink and it feels like heaven down your throat. You feel your muscles losing all the tension they held and you close your eyes for a moment and let the caffeine seep in your blood. “This is delicious.” you mutter mostly to yourself. 

“So you are technically our neighbor.” Jimin says as he leans back in his chair. His unwavering gaze focused on you. “What did the locksmith say? How long will they take?” 

“I don’t know. He keeps saying someone will be there soon, but I’ve waited for more than two hours outside my apartment and nobody came.” You know you are complaining to strangers but you're just so mentally and physically exhausted that it feels nice that someone is listening to you for once.

“I could fix that for you.” Namjoon speaks for the first time since being there and his voice is so deep yet gentle that you think this must be what listening to those online guided meditations your Dad listened to be like. 

“Wait, are you serious?” you question him. 

“Mhm,” he nods. His words soft and almost shy as they come out. “I can help.”

The sense of relief you feel might just be better than the drink you’ve been sipping. You could imagine the warmth of your fuzzy blankets and soft bed. You look up at Namjoon and nod eagerly. “Please, if you really can, I would be so grateful.”

Both Taehyung and Jungkook stand up, grinning ear to ear. “Lead the way, my lady.” Taehyung bows before you and is unceremoniously elbowed in his side by Jimin immediately for his offense. You walk out of the cafe, huddled between the warmth of four men you just met, the jacket you walked in with long forgotten.

#!bhc #bangtan #bangtan x reader #bts crack #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts ot7 #bts poly au #bts poly x reader #bts romance #bts smut #bangtan sonyeondan #ot7 x reader #ot7 #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts series #bts fanfction #bts fic #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #namjoon #seokjin

[ahhhwomen]

Frostbite.

Vampire Empire

Part 4

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: I am so tired lol

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death  Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Is this what death feels like?

Word Count: 2.5k

Taglist

*ACHOO*

Snot dribbles down your nose, but with a scrunch of your face and a deep inhale, you manage to sniffle it back.

As the weeks closed in on winter your enclosure had become unbearably cold, to the point where your water bowl was frozen over each morning.

After the fourth time of getting your tongue stuck on the icicle your metal bowl had become, you decided to share your heating lamp with it, the red light barely doing anything to keep you from freezing to death as you curled around the little bowl.

As you feel a tickle in your nose, you go to relieve it yet again, but before you can do that-

A hand grabs you by the back of your hair, and you clumsily falter in your path, with your arm blocking your knee, you aren’t able to sit down even as she tries to drag you downward. You can’t stop exactly where she wants you to, so she pulls harder, her fingers digging half-moons into your scalp. The pain is sharp and prominent.

You quickly right your limbs, and seat yourself on the chilling ground.

“Do that one more time and I am going to shoot you,” Carol tells you in an awfully calm tone. She towers over you, her long fluffy coat obscuring your view from anything but her.

You have been continuously sneezing and coughing the past few days and it was starting to piss her off.

Chills prickle your blue-ish skin and you can’t help but shiver as a blow of wind passes by. Your hands and knees feel numb, and you have to squint to stop the wind from making your eyes tear up.

Tires screech against the asphalt as a dark, red, Lamborghini pulls into the parking lot.

The wide frame of the car closes in on the spot beside Master´s SUV, you can see your owner clench her jaw and pull herself higher in posture. As she stands beside you her coat lays against your side, it brushes your shoulder and thigh, the soft material doing nothing to soothe you as the infamous clan leader steps out.

A high heel comes into view first, as her leg bends out of the vehicle and takes a solid footing against the dark pavement. There is a clinking of metal as a delicate hand, adored with golden jewelry, takes hold of the car’s exterior.

Your hands clutch and grasp the ground in hopes of finding a substantial piece of material to distract yourself with. It’s pointless.

The feminine leader steps out of the car with more diligence than any other posh woman could hope for. Wanda has her hair down, her amber curls cascading down her crimson, leather, jacket. Her piercing gaze is hidden behind sunglasses so dark you can’t tell where she is looking, and it makes you tense.

You feel as though she is inspecting you, the scrutinizing power dangles over your head as you replay the influence her eyes hold.

Neither you nor Carol were expecting to see Wanda, usually, it is one of the clan’s goons that meet for this sort of thing. You wonder what changed.

Carol slightly lowers her head in greeting, and you feel obligated to do the same. Your stiff neck struggles to bend past the upper half of your throat, but you bite your tongue and force it down lower. You don’t even realize you are uncontrollably shaking until Wanda speaks up.

“Carol,” Wanda points to your small frame leaning against Master´s legs, too tired to hold yourself up, “the girl is freezing to death. Get her something to put on then we can get started.” Wanda walks past the both of you, her strut unfaltering as she steps inside the construction area.

The scent of her grazes your stuffed nose and you have to resist the need to slump lower and close your eyes for just a moment. It smells warm, like a summer day on the beach, or at least what you envision the scene to smell like.

It’s a shame you will never experience it.

After the shorter woman has walked past, Master kicks her knee out and you topple off balance, your elbow collides with the loose pebbles beneath you as you fall. A small stone is lodged into the skin just beneath your elbow, and when you sit up you can feel the stone shift and dig deeper.

You grit your teeth together in pain and resist the need to hiss as hot flashes shoot up your arm.

Carol throws her head in the direction of her black SUV and states a simple “There is a sweater in the backseat.” Then her army boots stroll forward, leaving you to pick yourself up.

You don’t know when you crawled over, but now you sit just beside the car.

Getting the door open turns out to be a challenge. You grunt to yourself as you can’t seem to lift your arms high enough, the position on your knees is difficult to manage when your muscles are this stiff. And the shaking hasn’t stopped either, it makes no sense to you.

With a huff, you shake it off and push yourself just that little bit farther.

Just as your pale fingers grasp onto the cool metal the scenery around you shifts and morphs.

Suddenly you are sitting beside Carol with a half-knitted sweater hanging loosely against your frame.

You whip your head from left to right, the tendrils in your neck stretching and aching. Your vision lags, one moment you are looking at the far-left wall, then in the blink of an eye your eyes are dizzyingly close to the far right one.

You want to shift from one hand to the other, your palms are raw and painful, but your arms are stiff and heavy.

Nothing makes sense as you study the heels of the woman in front of you, you can’t decide on what color they are, too blurry and confusing to look at you try to think back to when you saw her…

When you saw her...?

Her…?

Who…?

Saw who…?

Wait.

You blink, your eyelids stick together, then with a determined raise of your eyebrows, they slowly peel apart, every lash untwining one by one.

How did you get here?

You can hear the two women talk amongst themselves, but your head is killing you. Every word sounds like an obscured radio speaker, you can’t pull focus and the words drift away.

You feel strange.

At least you aren’t cold anymore.

The tower of paper collapses beneath her desk as another piece of crumbled tree falls on top of the others. Ink stains the flooring as the undried sheet drags across the path of Wanda’s swishing leg.

Red hair falls like a waterfall down the back of her office chair as she throws her head back and huffs to herself. Wanda was dying from boredom, who knew peace could be so troublesome?

Ever since the peace offering was accepted by the clans in this area, Wanda didn’t have much to do. She stretches her neck back and forward, the tense tissue loosening slightly.

With a groan, Wanda pulls her phone out of her left pocket and decides to check on Natasha for the fourth time today. Her thumb taps against the glass screen rapidly, she opens her message app and finds the usual:

Wanda:

Hey lovely, just checking in, how is it going?

Sent

Just me again, are you coming home for dinner tonight? I can make your favorite ;)

Sent

How is the project coming along, any progress?

Sent

If Wanda didn’t know any better, she would think her wife was ignoring her. She sighs and pockets her cell phone. Slowly rising from her seat, the leather chair groans as she uses her legs to pull herself up.

Her desk is a mess.

Case files of all sorts lay unorganized atop, they had been hastily pushed to the side, between the previous fights and the unruliness of other clans, Wanda never had much time to deal with it. Her fingers delicately push the files into a compromised pile, the paper feels dry and bothersome against her pale hands, but it will have to do.

When she turns to place them inside her drawer, her foot slips on the wet ink coating the floor beneath her slipper. Her hip bumps into the low desk and she curses herself as the files fall and scatter before her.

“Just my luck,” she murmurs under her breath as she goes to pick one of them up, then she halts, her head turns as another file grabs her attention.

She remembers that one, it had been a project she wanted to start decades ago but never found the time, it was just recently that her members had started construction.

Leaning under her desk Wanda stretches her hand out and picks up the discussed rapport.

In a spur-of-the-moment, she had plucked her phone back out and called up her most loyal worker, who was supposed to meet with the Thor clan for planning today.

Wanda grabs the desk and places the phone against her ear, keeping it balanced with her raised shoulder, while the tone rings, she continues to pick up the offending objects and place them in their rightful place, just as she is closing the lower drawer he picks up.

“Mrs. Maximoff, what can I do for you?” Clint speaks on the other side of the phone, his voice gruff and masculine.

Wanda’s much more feminine voice answers with an uncaring tone, “The meeting with the Thor clan, that is today, correct?”

Right to the point Clint answers clearly, “Yes ma’am, I was just about to get in my car now.” Wanda takes hold of the phone against her ear; she shifts it to the other side as she opens the file and skims through the content.

She hums, “No need, I will take personal care of this one, you can do as you please today.”

Before the man has time to answer Wanda’s thumb hits the big red button and she starts her path to the walk-in closet across the hall.

You look like shit.

Lying in a heap on the ground, your pale features are void of any emotion.

Your lips are blue, and your fingertips stretched out toward Wanda, have become completely still. Your breathing is slow, then erratic, then slow again.

If Wanda hadn’t seen your fighting spirit that day, she would have thought you were a mute statue. You had been lying in the same spot since you entered with that hideous sweater. It was clearly a half-finished project of Carol´s; what a bitch, can’t even dress her own plaything right.

Wanda cringes at the thought, you weren’t hers.

The redhead glances at her watch for the hundredth time. With a sigh, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply, the cold air invades her lungs and scratches her throat. Even with her lesser human senses, there was a bite in the creeping wind.

With the lack of insolation and the less-than-ideal condition of the walls, Wanda had come here to discuss the process continuing, as the building stands now it would be less than ideal for humans to be here.

Her jacket crinkles as she steps closer to you, her shoes connect with poorly polished oak, and she cringes as she feels the plastic shift and strain when a loose nail tries penetrating the weak material.

You don’t react much, Wanda steps to your side, looking you over slowly.

To say Wanda was surprised to see you would be a lie. Due to the area lying in between the clan’s territory, they had agreed to manage it together, and she knows Carol has a responsibility for the lesser projects, like this one.

But-

Wanda kicks a pebble in your direction, just far enough for any normal human to at least move their head a little, but to no one’s surprise, your glassy eyes stare into the ground just in front of her with a complete lack of reaction.

The redhead is starting to think this match-up was a poor one.

And that’s not even mentioning the disrespect that oozes from the younger girl.

Carol had stepped out of their little meeting half an hour ago, Wanda had been explaining the logistics of marketing, when the blond woman had lifted her finger to Wanda’s face as her phone rang. With no regard for the one funding this project, she had stepped out with a meek “I have to take this.”

It wasn’t long after that very important phone call that Wanda heard Carol´s car speed off the property. Leaving you behind.

Wanda tsks, her lip lifting into a displeased frown. Pulling out her cell phone she is quick to send a message to the clan leader.

Mrs. Maximoff:

Carol left.

Read 7:12

Goldilocks:

You’re kidding?!

Read 7:13

Wanda snorts, Thor is sweet, but he is also incredibly naïve, he never should have accepted Carol, to begin with. That man’s heart will be his undoing one of these days.

Mrs. Maximoff:

I’m afraid not.

If this ever were to happen again,

I hope you understand that will be the end of this agreement.

I will not extend this olive branch again.

Sent 7:15

With a shake of her head, Wanda places her phone in her dress pants and shrugs her jacket off, her hand clutches the chilled material, hoping to warm it a little. And then she gently places it atop your pale frame. She thought maybe the blond woman would come back, but it seems not. The jacket looks like an overcoat with your curled frame.

Wanda tilts her head as she just stares at you for a moment.

You weren’t even scared, or at least you didn’t act like it. The last time she had seen you, you were close to having a heart attack every time Wanda moved a millimeter, now look at you. You lay there with half-lidded eyes, body curled into a ball, no concern toward the redhead’s proximity.

Even as Wanda lightly taps you with the point of her heel, your skin denting inward directly over a bruise, your breathing stays the same, your heart rate stays the irregular pattern it has this entire time.

Wanda huffs, you are a strange creature, but she figures the cold must have gotten to you. The taller woman kneels down beside you, her knee hovers just over the flooring, and her heels groan in agony against the awkward bend. She squints her eyes before testing her faith.

Warm hands run over your back, a gentle up-and-down motion on top of smooth leather. The pressure is just enough to feel it but light enough to avoid uncomfortable pushing against your bruised, thin, skin.

Within the paddling of confusion and the water rushing in on you, you feel a warmth swallow you whole. It’s nice.

Even through the jacket, Wanda can feel your ribs jutting out, with another sigh she pats you on the head. Your hair is greasy and cold, but Wanda doesn’t mind.

Now, onto the real issue at hand, what is she going to do with you?

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