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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 8 months

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Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part II

Thank you to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading and letting me be insane in her DM's ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: None

Part I ~ Part III

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

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You sigh as you finish your closing duties, giving the door one last pull to make sure it was locked with a tired sigh. You walked around to the back of the building, heading up to your apartment that was very conveniently located on top of your store. You kick the door shut behind you, haphazardly throwing your shoes in the entryway. You put the kettle on the stove, leaning against the counter and looking out the window as you waited for the water to boil. Your mind immediately wandered back to Vessel, your short interaction had left you with so many unanswered questions. Where did he come from? Why did he choose this sleepy little town of all places to settle down? Was he actually part of a cult? He was so different from what you had imagined. Hearing all the reports in the paper you had been terrified to run into any of them. Vessel, in what scraps of his personality you had seen, seemed so gentle. You were snapped from your thoughts by the sound of the kettle singing.

"At least our mystery man has a name now." You chuckle to your empty apartment. You guess you would just have to wait and see what tomorrow brought.

Music blasted through the speakers in the empty store, you sang along loudly with your favorite songs as you worked on restocking the shelves. You groaned as you hoisted one of the heavy crates of produce off the counter. You screamed, oranges scattering across the floor as you lost hold of the crate. There standing at the door was Vessel. Seeing that he had finally caught your attention, he pointed to his wrist as if he was motioning to a watch. You paused your music and quickly headed over to open the door for him. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to tell you we close early tonight." You blurt out the second you open up. Your eyes land on Vessel, this was the first time you had been standing in front of him without the barrier of the counter. He was a lot taller than you had realized, you stumbled back slightly to put some distance between you and the absolute wall that was his body. "Every Sunday I have to restock the store, I close at four."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll just-"

"No!" You exclaim, waving your hands wildly in front of you. "No, really, it's my fault. You come in and get what you need, just don't mind the mess. It'll take me a couple minutes to reopen the register." You motion him inside, he follows you hesitantly. He looks around the store, various pallets and stacks of crates are organized into neat categories waiting to be put away. From what he could see it was definitely more work than one person should be handling by themselves.

"Is it just you that works here?" You nod in response as you drop onto your knees to start collecting the oranges you had dropped. Your hand jerked back as your fingers bumped into Vessel's. Your eyes dart up to look at him, "it's my fault you dropped the crate, I'd like to help you pick up a little if that's alright." He says softly as he remains completely still. He could tell being so close to him made you nervous, yet it was somehow different than interactions he had in the past. You weren't scared, more… shy.

"You don't have to go to all that trouble, Vessel, really." You try to reassure him.

"And you shouldn't be alone trying to restock all of this inventory by yourself." You almost rolled your eyes at the statement.

"I've been managing just fine by myself for the last seven years, I think I can handle a spilled crate of fruit." He chuckles at your determined tone.

"I never said you couldn't," he returns to the task of picking up produce as he talks. "I'm saying you shouldn't have to. You work hard, I can tell by how meticulously your store is always maintained." He trails off for a moment, not exactly sure how to phrase his next statement. "I guess I'm just curious as to why you don't have any help."

"There isn't anybody I like enough to have them work here with me." You smile. "This place is my home, literally, my apartment's upstairs." He shakes his head with a slight laugh. "If they aren't someone I would invite into my home they're not someone I would want to spend hours upon end in here with them. Besides, I like working, it keeps me occupied." Vessel finishes helping you clean up. "You go get your groceries, I'm sure you have a long drive back to… your camp? House?"

"Camp works." He quips. You head up to the counter to get the register up and running again, knowing his supply runs never took long. You found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. The strange red sigil in the center of his white mask, the ornate detailing on the bottom edge, the black paint that covered every area of exposed skin, everything about him just made you curious. Your eyes snapped to your register as he glanced in your direction and you swore you heard the sound of him quietly chuckling. He carries his groceries up to the counter and lays them out.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask me as many questions as you want, I can't guarantee I'll answer." He responds bluntly.

"What made you decide to finally start talking to me?" He seemed a bit taken aback by your question, not expecting you to be so forward.

"It's no secret that a lot of people don't like the fact that we're around. Luckily, the only real nuisance we've had to deal with are the reporters, but I'm still worried about what would happen if we ventured too far into town. But, we needed supplies. We could only last so long on the sorry excuse of a garden we managed to start when we originally bought the land, your store is relatively close by and out of the way. As far as why I started talking to you, you're the only person I've met from this town so far that hasn't greeted me with hostility." Vessel laughs softly at your shocked expression. "I'm tired of running (Y/N). Tired of having to move from city to city every other month to try and keep ahead of the backlash from people who don't understand us. If I'm going to do that I need a place to come get supplies where I won't immediately get chased off, someone I can trust in my time of need… after some thought I think you might be that person. There's something special about you, I think we were fated to meet each other, I'm just not sure why yet."

"Well, I appreciate that." You can't help but smile at the admission. He trusted you. "If there's anything I can ever do to help you guys out, just say the word."

"Actually, there is something. Would it be alright if I start coming to grab supplies after you close, at least on Sunday's?" He asks.

"Of course you can. I was actually going to ask if that would work better for you." You admit with a chuckle. "I know that a lot of people around these parts tend to be pretty… close minded, to put it gently. I think it's smart for you to wait until you're ready to have those interactions." He nods his thanks at your agreement, collecting his belongings, and heading towards the door.

"Next Sunday it might not be just me, don't be intimidated." He dismissed himself with a chuckle, leaving you to finish restocking.

You pondered over who exactly he would be bringing with him. No one knew for sure how many members there were living in the woods, from what you had seen everyone except for Vessel dressed relatively similar. You were tempted to ask him throughout your daily visits, but you also didn't want to pry. As next Sunday arrived you kept anxiously looking up at the clock, waiting for closing time to roll around. You bid farewell to your final customer as you locked up. Just as you had pulled the key from the deadbolt you saw the familiar sight of an old, beat up pick up truck rumble into the parking lot. Vessel got out, talking to whoever was seated in the passenger seat before heading in your direction. You waved at him, opening up the door and stepping outside. "Is your friend coming in too?" You ask quietly as he gets closer to you.

"Yeah, he is. I just wanted to tell you something first. II isn't much of a talker until he gets to know people… He also has a staring problem." You laugh, Vessel returns your enthusiasm with a smile.

"If I can handle you giving me the silent treatment for a full week I think I can handle it big guy, don't worry." He waves at his friend to come join you. You waited in anxious anticipation as the passenger door opened, two heavy black leather boots thudding against the pavement as someone jumped out. The slam of the door echoes through the surrounding trees as you finally could see just who Vessel brought with him. II was a bit shorter than Vessel with a lean frame. His striking blue eyes met yours through the holes in his mask, black cloth with the same rune that adorned Vessel's, yet his covered the entirety of his face.

"II, this is (Y/N)." He slowly approaches you, you could tell he was studying you. He offers his hand which you timidly accept. His hand was warm around yours as he feigned the action of bringing your knuckles to his lips, his eyes never leaving your face. "Come on, I didn't bring you to flirt with her." You see the corners of II's eyes crinkle as he chuckles at Vessel's joke. He straightens up, moving swiftly to the door, holding it open and motioning for you to walk inside.

"Thank you II." You smile sweetly at him. Vessel claps him on the back as he walks past.

"We're here to help, what do you need?" He offers kindly.

"Oh, I couldn't ask you both to do that." II steps forward, offering you his arm. You cautiously take it with a curious expression. He leads you to your chair behind the counter, pulling it out for you to sit. He rolls up his sleeves, picking up the first box of stock he saw and searching for its tag.

"See? You don't even have to ask?" Vessel chuckles. You got your restock done in half the time you normally did with their help. Vessel stood in front of the register as you rang him up, smoking smugly. "Wasn't that easier than doing it all yourself?"

"What? You looking for a job?" You shoot back, you hear II breathe out a chuckle at your joke. You bag up his groceries, handing them off with a smile. "II, hopefully I'll see you next week." He nods his goodbye as he heads out the door.

"I think he likes you." Vessel jokes.

“He’s sweet.” You giggle. “If your whole group is this nice you’re welcome in my store anytime.” Vessel smiles at your statement.

“You’ll meet the others eventually, I think they’d enjoy getting to know you.” He starts walking towards the door, shooting you a flirtatious smirk. You waved goodbye to them through the window, catching II’s gaze as they drove off. The next night as you sat reading at the counter you smiled as the familiar sound of Vessel’s sputtering engine met your ears as he pulled into the lot. You looked up as the bell jingled over the door, your greeting froze in your throat as you realized it wasn’t Vessel who had entered the store.

“Hey II.” You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face at the sight of him.

“(Y/N).” He greets you with a slight nod. His gaze traps you in place as his eyes meet yours, he saunters up to the counter, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“No Vessel today?” You ask, trying to keep your flustered state a secret.

“He had something to take care of today.” You could hear the gentle intonation of a smile in his voice. “Call me selfish but I wanted the chance to see you again.” You let out a flustered giggle. He leans his elbows on the counter, bringing his face impossibly close to yours. His eyes slowly scan over your features before catching your gaze. “He sent me with a list, think you could help me out?”

“Yeah, sure.” You stutter, making your way around the counter. He hands the list over to you, trailing behind you to hold everything you pulled from the shelves. You struggled to reach something on one of the higher shelves, a shiver ran up your spine at the sudden warmth that spread across your back as II stepped closer to you.

“Allow me.” He gazes down at you, bright blue eyes studying you for a moment. You feel his eyes on you the entire time as you scanned all of his groceries. You handed the bags over to him, his fingers brushing over yours. You smile bashfully as your eyes lock with his. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.” He gazes at you playfully.

“Yeah, hopefully.” He bows slightly as he heads for the door.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, II.”

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Tag List: @herripinkle @themultiverseofmars @wingsofeternitysstuff @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @jumpcauseimfroggy (if I missed you or you'd like to be added to the Sleep Token tag list, please let me know!)

#sleep token fanfiction #sleep token x reader #sleep token #sleep token iii #iii sleep token #ii sleep token #sleep token ii #iv sleep token #sleep token iv #vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #vessel x reader #ii x reader #iii x reader #iv x reader

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weird-an · 4 months

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When Robin first met Steve, she thought he was all arrogance and confidence, thought he was bullshit.

She got to know him, looked behind the picture of King Steve, the fallen jock of Hawkins High. She likes Steve. Loves him like a brother sometimes.

She's surprised though that he's so oblivious sometimes. That guy dated half of the school, okay, all of them girls, even though she knows that Steve Harrington's virginity will forever be Tommy Hagan's greatest steal, but how can Steve be so blind?

Steve's face is flushed when he finds her after the last period, when they are supposed to spend the rainy afternoon on the couch, watching Disney movies or whatever.

"I think Billy is theatening me!" Steve says, eyes huge. Like always when he's talking about Billy. Which he does a lot. Most of the day.

Because they are rivals, he says.

Because he's got a big fat crush, Robin has inferred after the last "Billy Hargrove is disgusting" ramble Steve annoyed her with for two hours.

She suppresses a grin that wants to mix with a sigh which leads to a weird hiccup.

"What's going on?"

"He sent me notes today. This one says 'I'm watching you, pretty boy.'" Steve waves a piece of paper in front of her. Billy's handwriting is surprisingly neat.

That's not really a surprise. Billy stares at Steve as if he's an oasis in the desert. Steve stares at Billy like he's a cake and there's only one piece left.

There's her hiccup again.

" … and the other?" she asks. It's amusing, she has to admit. At the same time she wants to smush them together like the Barbie dolls she had played with as a child. She created epic love stories - lacking Ken the whole time, because a Barbie deserved another Barbie, not some boring ass dude.

Steve ruffles his hair. "It’s even worse. It says 'I'm waiting for you in the parking lot!'"

Robin snorts. That's it. She's glad Billy apparently had gotten around to the realization that it's not a rivalry but the exact opposite. Of course Billy Hargrove can't just say "I like you". That would be too easy.

"I think you're both idiots," she hiccups. Damn, that's getting out of hand.

Steve puts his hands in his hips. "What?" he asks.

"Go to the parking lot!" Robin points at the door.

"I don't wanna fight," Steve begins.

Robin can't stand this hiccup any longer.

"He doesn't want to fight - he wants to fuck," she almost yells.

Steve gapes at her.

"Maybe it's a joke," he manages.

"What if it isn't?" she asks.

Steve's moles drown in the pinkness of his cheeks.

"I… should go," he says. "Thanks, Robin."

"Welcome, dingus."

She shouldn’t follow him, but she still does, because he’s a bit of an idiot and she loves him. She wants to make sure, she isn’t wrong. She peeks around the corner. It's still raining a bit, more a drizzle than anything.

Billy is wearing his tightest pair of jeans. He's leaning against the Camaro, sucking on a cigarette. Pretending he isn't soaking wet. It's almost adorable.

"Harrington, I bet your lame ass still hasn't seen Terminator, " he says, stroking a wet curl out of his dace.

"You don't know that," Steve grumbles.

Billy tilts his head. His face flushes a bit, too. They are matching tones of pink.

"'M drivin'," Billy mumbles.

Steve grins. "I'm buying, then."

Billy nearly drops his cigarette.

"Cool," he says, face still red.

She watches them drive off, high-fiving a very confused Jonathan Byers who just happens to walk to his car.

Her hiccup is gone. Finally.

#steve he's threatening you with some hot and heavy action ruuuuuuun #robin is so done #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve x billy #robin buckley & steve harrington

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wh0re43van · 6 months

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Older- (Stan Bowes X Reader)

Word count: 4k

Summary: You’re interning under Stan who's taken quite the liking to you, but you’re much too naive to notice at first.

Warnings: age gap, smut, thigh ridding?, cheating

A/n: Okay ya’ll, this is not my best. My motivation randomly dropped like a week ago and I've been trying to get it back. I'm so sorry.

I started my paid internship at Trump tower a few weeks ago in order to finish up my business degree. I’ve only seen my temporary boss a few times, but he is an extremely intimidating man. His suits are always pressed and starched in a very neat way, his hair always gelled back perfectly; not one strand out of place. He walks with confidence and determination. He’s horrifying. And of course, on the day that I’m having a major wardrobe malfunction, I have to go into his office. I stayed at a friend’s house last night and left my work shirt at home. Thankfully, she also has an office job as well, so she has appropriate clothes- at least for her body type. She’s much smaller in the bust than me, so the top button on my blouse has been popping open constantly. I’ve been walking around with my hand on my chest all day as if I’m saying the pledge of allegiance on repeat.

I stand outside of Mr. Bowes door, taking a deep breath with my papers in hand, ensuring my button is snapped shut- at least for the time being. I bring a shaky hand up to knock on the wooden door. A few seconds later I hear,

“What now? What is it? Come in!”

Great, he’s already frustrated with me. I slowly open the door, sticking my head in. He doesn’t remove his attention from the many papers spread across his desk.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bowes,” I say in a feeble tone, standing awkwardly in front of him. He looks up when he hears my unfamiliar voice. His dark eyes scan over my face and my body. I feel small and weak under his intense stare.

“It’s fine Miss…” he says firmly awaiting me to introduce myself.

“Oh! I’m so- I- Y/n Y/l/n,” my tongue seems to stop working. “I’m an intern. Th-that’s why I’m here actually,” I smile nervously. “I need you, uhm, to fill out this form proving that I- I’ve completed the first two weeks here at the company,” I clear my throat, mentally kicking myself in the ass for how stupid I sound. Mr. Bowes, however, seems to find it amusing. A small smile creeps onto his face, revealing two charming dimples.

“Very well then Miss Y/n,” he holds out a strong hand. My trembling fingers pass him the papers. “No need to be so nervous,” he says, staring directly into my soul. His dominant presence makes me feel like a child who’s been called to the principals office. He scans over the form. “Can I have you go ahead and sign this for me, Miss Y/n. That way as soon as I get around to it we can fax it to your school. I’m all about efficiency,” he smiles politely, handing me a pen.

“Of course, sir!” I say a bit too enthusiastically, I flinch when my voice cracks. As I take the pen from his hand, I can see him stifle a laugh to save me from embarrassment. I bend down to sign the paper with a shaky hand, before standing back up. Stans eyes are locked on to my chest, he clears his throat, using his eyes to motion to my blouse.

“Shit,” I mutter as I turn around quickly, my cheeks burning crimson. I quickly pull the fabric together tightly to snap the weak fasteners. Even with the snap buckled, there’s a gap in between the two buttons; I try my best to hide it. I slowly turn back around to face my boss, my eyes closed, too afraid to look at him.

“Mr. Bowes, I am so sorry, I this- I- th-“ I take a deep breath. “This isn’t my shirt. I apologize,” I finally open my eyes to see him leaning back in his chair, his face firm but a glint of amusement in his eyes. He grabs a mint from his desk, popping it in his mouth.

“Have a seat, Miss y/n,” Is all he says, staring at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. I take a seat from my shaky legs. “I’d hate to have to do this upon our first-time meeting officially,” he begins, but the smirk on his face says otherwise. “But it is company policy that I inform you that the attire you’ve worn into work today is not up to our standards,” he says simply as he leans forward onto his elbows. “Do you always wear such revealing clothes,” he asks, tilting his head to the side a bit.

“No! No, Sir, of course not,” I plead, hoping that he’ll believe me. “This isn’t my shirt, it’s a friends! I was in rush, and I couldn’t find my shirt- well this all she had. She uh- her, uhm chest is a bit smaller than mine so it’s not exactly, uh, the most flattering on me,” I try to explain in a mush of words. He listens intently, nodding his head.

“I see,” he sits up, straightening his tie. I can see his biceps strain against his white button up as he adjusts the strip of fabric around his neck. “You seem like a respectable young lady, and I’m a sensible man, Miss Y/n. I understand that there are some things out of your control,” he offers me a small smile, seemingly dismissing the situation.

“Thank you, Sir,” I let out the breath I was holding.

“Please, call me Stan,” he insists as he leans back in his chair.

“Yes, sir- I mean Stan!” I correct myself, my cheeks blushing. “I apologize, I’ve never referred to a man of such power and superiority in such a casual way,” I admit honestly. He seems to like my acknowledgment of his power over me, he puffs his chest out a bit at the comment.

“Refer to me in whatever way makes you comfortable, Miss Y/n,” he grins.

“Yes, sir,” I look down at my feet, my stomach is a ball of nerves. Stan just sits there, staring at me as if he enjoys intimidating me, while I wait for him to dismiss me.

“Are you free this weekend, Y/n?” he asks as he leans back down to his elbows, crossing his hands, while awaiting my answer. I notice a wedding ring on his finger.

“Uhm, I believe so,” I say but it comes out more of a question. Why would a married man possibly want to know about my weekend plans?

“Would you be willing to meet with me outside of the office to complete some more work? I believe it will enhance your education and your experience with us,” he offers simply, but I notice an underlying tone in his voice, I’m just not sure what is.

“Does it count as over time?” I ask with a small laugh, finally being comfortable enough to crack a small joke. He looks a bit thrown by my comment- which confuses me- but he lets out a small chuckle.

“Yes of course, I would never ask you to work for free,” he smiles while grabbing a piece of paper, scribbling down an address. “This is my home address,” he hands me the slip. “Does 9 am Saturday sound okay?” he raises his brows.

“Uh yes sir, whatever works for you,” I smile, accepting the scrap of paper. “Should I just knock? I apologize, I’m not yet acquainted with the etiquette of professionalism,” I blush a bit. He seems to enjoy my naiveite.

“Yes dear, just knock,” he chuckles. “Oh, and please be sure to wear something more appropriate,” he says but it comes out light- a joke.

“Oh of course Mr. Bowes! I wouldn’t want your wife to get the wrong idea,” I say out of respect for his relationship, motioning to his wedding band with my hand. Stan looks a bit taken back, almost as if he forgot he was married somehow. He clears his throat.

“She’s out of town with our children this weekend. With no distractions we’ll be able to get the work done in just a couple hours I’m sure,” he’s back to his calm, dominant demeaner now.

“Alright Sir, I’ll see you at 9 am on Saturday,” I smile standing from my seat, walking towards his door.

“Miss Y/n,” his voice stops me, I turn around. “I need to know that you understand that this is something that will be kept between us. I need you to tell me that you won’t speak of this to anyone,” he says sternly. My face contorts into a quizzical expression.

“Uhm yes sir, I can do that. I won’t tell anyone,” I promise. “But can I ask why, Mr. Bowes? I’m just a bit confused. How is this any different than us doing work at the office?” I ask genuinely. I know I don’t understand work etiquette quite yet, but this seems a bit strange. My response seems to stress him a bit, but ultimately he lets out a chuckle.

“Look y/n, I’m a married man with a reputation to uphold, you’re a young bright-eyed lady. Word spreads fast,” he says slowly.

‘oh’ I understand what he’s implying now.

“Yes sir, of course. I understand. People have a tendency to talk,” I nod, wringing my hands nervously at his stern demeanor.

“Very good,” he seems pleased with my understanding. “You’re dismissed,” he motions to the door. I thank him, walking out of his office.

“Well, that was odd,” I mutter to myself as I find my way back to the secretary quarters.

•

Saturday morning comes soon enough. I get dressed- making sure to put on a shirt that actually fits this time- and a skirt that stops just above my knees. I pull on some black thigh-high stockings and allow my hair to flow freely. I’m not sure why, but I decide to put on some light makeup. Just some mascara and a subtle red lip. It’s strictly just work, but I can’t help but want to impress Stan. He’s just such an alluring man. I know it’s wrong, he’s a married man- not to mention probably at least 15 years older than me- but he’s so charming. I take a final look in the mirror before heading to the taxi that Stan has called for me.

I walk up to his beautiful house; He obviously has money. I knock on the door, adjusting my outfit while I wait for him. Within seconds, Mr. Bowes is greeting me.

“Adalaide, so nice to see you,” he smiles warmly, inviting me in. I look around the nicely decorated home in awe. “I trust that no one has seen you come in?” he asks as he pokes his head out the door before locking it behind me.

“Uh, no sir. At least not that I’m aware of,” I smile innocently. “Mr. Bowes your home is stunning,” I say still looking around.

“Oh, this place? It’s nothing,” he grins, putting his hand on my lower back, leading me to his couch. I jump a bit at the unexpected touch, but I don’t mind. I’m just a bit confused by it. “So, this shouldn’t take much time, we can get started if you’d like,” he explains, his voice low and-if I’m not mistaken- a bit sultry as he sits down on the sofa next to me. I take a seat, then I notice that there is no paperwork in sight.

‘that’s odd,’ I think to myself, searching around for the task in question.

“Sure Mr. Bowes, you’re the boss,” I giggle lightly, awaiting directions. He looks at me, placing a hand on my knee.

“Miss, Y/n. I have to ask,” he sighs. “You do understand that I didn’t bring you here for actual work, right?” he leans a bit closer to me, raising his eyebrows. My smile drops.

“Oh no… Am I in trouble?” I ask innocently, looking at him with sad eyes. He lets out a chuckle.

“No, my dear. Of course not,” he gives me a kind smile. “I was just hoping to get to know you a little better,” his voice comes out low as he rolls the hem of my skirt in his hands, that’s when I notice his wedding band is no longer on his finger.

‘Oh…OH!’ my eyes widen at my epiphany. I’m not allowed to tell anyone, his wife is away, he made sure no one saw me come in, he’s had his hands on me since I got here… for fucks sake the first time I met the man, my tits were out. God, why am I so naive?

“Oh, I uh,” I clear my throat nervously. “I understand now, Sir,” I blush, slowly looking up at him. His looking at me with lust filled eyes.

“My, you sure do blush a lot,” he says with amusement in his voice. “It’s adorable,” he smirks. He seems to be attracted to how innocent I’ve been about this whole thing.

“Uh, thank you sir,” I give him a shy smile, nervous- but excited- about what’s going to happen in the next hour. This man is like catnip; I couldn’t resist him if I wanted to. He makes a simple white button up look far too good as his hand slowly moves up my thigh.

“No need to be shy y/n,” he says in a whisper against my neck. “Just relax,” his voice is low and gentle, but dripping in seduction. I shiver as he slips a warm hand under my skirt. His fingertips brush my skin where my stockings end.

“Yes sir,” I bite my lip in anticipation, nodding my head. I turn to face him, our eyes exchanging an intimate look. I can’t wait any longer. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his face against mine. He lays me down on the couch, his lips still on mine. My stomach flips seeing the dapper man hovering above me. “May I suggest going somewhere a bit more…private, Mr. Bowes?” I ask as my fingers twirl the dark hair that falls neatly at his neck. The living room is full of large bay windows, as anxious as he is about his nosey neighbors, this doesn’t seem like the smartest place to have an affair.

“These are the kind of ideas that will move you up in this company,” he smirks as he stands, offering me a hand. I giggle, letting him lead me to his bedroom. I can’t believe how elegant his house is, if I wasn’t completely dripping in arousal and desperate for this man, I’d take the time to complement his house again. The room is neat and minimalistic. I take notice of the picture frames face down on both the night stands.

‘That’s probably his family,’ I frown to myself. Guilt flushes over me quickly. I turn to face Stan to tell him that this might be a bad idea, but the way he’s is looking at me while he loosens his tie makes any thought other than his skin on mine fly out the window. Stan smirks, keeping his eyes locked onto mine as he sits down on his bed, patting his leg.

“Come here, darling,” Stan coos, his voice makes me weak. I take a step towards the bed. “Crawl,” he demands simply. I give him a confused look. he smirks as he slides his brown leather belt out of his pants. “Crawl to me, dear,” he lays the belt on the mattress beside him. As he begins to unbutton his white dress shirt he asks, “Can you do that for me, y/n?” I simply nod as a grin creeps onto my face. I’m confused, but oh so excited. I assume this is something the older men are into, and I’m more than happy to explore that. His eyes follow me as I drop down to the floor. I slowly crawl over to him, settling on my knees in between Stans slack clad legs, looking up at him with lust laced eyes as I await further instruction. “Use you manners,” he says in the tone he uses on me at the office. I catch onto what he’s implying after a few seconds.

“I apologize,” I giggle, as I look up stan. His stern look and his sultry gaze make me drool. “Yes sir,” I smile, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Stan smirks, seemingly pleased by my response.

“Good girl,” he nods. “Come here,” his voice is stern yet sultry as he pats his leg. Butterflies explode in my stomach and down to my core as I straddle his thigh. I sit on his leg with nothing more than his pants and my underwear keeping us apart. I can’t help but giggle with excitement as his hands run up my legs to push my dress up before he cups my ass in his hands. “You’re stunning, Miss Y/n,” his voice came out low as he smiles genuinely.

“Thank you, sir,” I blush. He grabs my chin, pulling me into press his lips onto mine. I giggle into as I wrap my hands around the back of his neck. His hands slide up my body, stopping to hold onto my hips. As I brush my fingers into his slicked back hair, he starts to bounce his leg and using his hands to maneuver my hips back and forth. I moan into the kiss as Stan bites my bottom lip, unzipping the back of my dress. The fabric pools around my waist, bouncing with his leg as I grind against him. The friction against my core makes my toes curl as Stan moves his mouth roughly against mine.

“Are you enjoying this dear?” he breathes against my lips in low tone.

“Mhm,” I moan, gripping onto his thigh as I grind against him, focused on my own pleasure. I feel Stans hand grip my neck, pulling my head down closer to his face as he continues bouncing his leg. We breath the same breath as I stare deep into his dark eyes, moaning inwardly. “Manners, darling,” his growls, squeezing my throat with the last word as his lips brushing against mine. I whimper in his grasp.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I whimper, staring into his stern eyes as I feel my orgasm quickly building from this new experience. The entire situation is so wrong; he’s my boss, a married man in his 30s, yet here I am; his college intern grinding an orgasm out on his leg. I roll my eyes back as I release, moaning out in pleasure as the euphoria floods my senses.

“Look at me, darling,” stan growls, tightening his grip on my throat. I open my eyes, biting down on my bottom lip. Stans watching me intently as he continues bouncing his leg, seeming to notice every twitch and moan my body makes as I ride out my orgasm. His strong arm reaching for my throat is tensed, making the veins pop out more than usual. Stan is truly one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen.

He finally stops his leg, and I lay forward onto him so that my head is resting on his shoulder as I catch my breath.

“Thank you, sir,” I whisper. He lets out a small chuckle.

“You’re welcome, Miss y/n,” he grabs my chin, tilting my head to look at him. I press my lips against his as he lays me down on the bed. His hands slip my dress completely off my body as mine work to finish unbuttoning his dress shirt. His kisses trail down my neck as I reach to undo his pants. “A bit eager, hm?” he laughs into the crook of my neck.

“Extremely eager, Sir,” I giggle as I continue to slide the trousers down his legs. He kicks them off before sliding down my body, settling between my legs. He kisses my stomach down to where my panties rest, each peck sending electricity through my body. His soft hands gently remove the thin fabric covering my core, as if he’s afraid he may break something. His eyes are focused on my body as he rids me of the fabric. “You are stunning,” he breaths, not looking away from my now completely bare body.

“Thank you, sir,” I blush, he smiles at me before dipping a finger into my entrance, earning a gasp out of me. He bites his lip, removing his now slick finger, bringing it up to trace circles on my clit.

“Always so ready to please. That’s a good quality to have,” he chuckles, standing from the mattress to further remove his boxers and shirt. Seeing him in all his glory is surreal. He crawls on top of me, earning an audible, anxious gulp from me. He smiles as he leans down, resting his toned forearms on either side of my head, lining himself up with my entrance.

“Are you ready dear?” he asks, in my ear.

“Yes sir,” I whimper, shaking from anticipation. With that he pushes into me slowly as a low groan creeps from his throat. I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut trying to adjust to his size. His movements start slow, but soon the pain melts into pleasure and I give him permission to speed up. His thrusts are quick and deep, earning desperate moans from my mouth with each stroke. The way Stan holds my hip and grips my throat while he fucks me is a sensation I’ve never experienced before. I’m complete putty in his hands, allowing him to use me in anyway he sees fit, and I’ll thank him every time. Briefly pulling out of me, Stan flips me around to my stomach.

“Hands and knees,” he pants out as he stands from the bed. I quickly scramble on the mattress to get into the position he’s requested as my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. “Good girl,” I can hear his smirk as he brings a hard hand down over my ass, earning a whimper from me before he thrusts back into me, no mercy this time.

“Fuck!” I moan out as I feel him bottom out immediately. Stan finds his rhythm, using his hands to pull my body against his with every deep stroke.

“God, you take me so well,” Stan groans as he moves a hand underneath me, rubbing his thumb over my clit. I moan loudly at the extra stimulation. Stans thrusts get sloppy, and his groans get louder as I begin to flutter around him, focusing on my own climax as he pounds into me relentlessly.

“Fuck,” I whimper, warning stan of my orgasm approaching.

“Be good for me, I want you to beg,” Stan pants out with smack on my ass.

“Please sir,” I whine as my legs begin to shake. “Please let cum. I can’t hold it. Please sir,” I plead in a way I never thought I would speak to man.

“Good girl,” he speeds up his finger that’s working with my bundle of nerves. I quickly come undone. Sweat forms a thin sheen on my forehead as I release around him, seeing stars. Soon after, he pulls out before I feel his warm seed shoot out, running down my back. I lay down on my stomach, closing my eyes as I try to catch my breath. Stan lays down right next to me, pulling me into his side. I look up, his chest heaving as he wipes his forehead with his hand.

“I think we’ve made a lot of progress today,” he chuckles as he brushes my hair off my sweaty face.

“I agree, Mr. Bowes,” I giggle as I rest my head on his shoulder.

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tobesolonely · 1 year

Text

thank you for showing ceorry part 1 so much love!! I wanna give this series a name but I’m not very creative so if anyone has any ideas pls lmk 🫶🏾

harry is y/n’s boss, and he’s also a super rich ceo, and he thinks she’s so pretty :)

warnings: harry being super flirty and a nice kiss

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Mr. Styles?”

The low voices Y/N hears through the door abruptly stop. "Y/N, come in." Upon entering her boss's office, she sees Mitch, the accountant from yesterday, sitting at Harry's desk, charts and spreadsheets spread out. He looks proper annoyed by the intrusion, but Harry could not seem to care less. He looks at her intently while he waits for her to speak.

“I’m ready to work,” Y/N lifts up her laptop and notebook and Harry’s eyes land on the items. “I really had a chance to get lots done this morning. I usually take Fridays to sleep in, but not today sir!”

“Ah, you’re ready to get started?” His desk is already cleared of documents to make room for her. “I’m glad you had a chance to really use it. It was useful, I’m hoping?”

Y/N nods quickly. “I did! It helped me actually knock out, like, half of my report.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harry’s positively beaming at her, and it makes Y/N flush. “I knew you could do it. You jus’ needed a little bit of help. Why don’t you come and sit? Mitch was just leaving.”

“We’re not done reviewing-”

“We are,” Harry picks up the now neat stack of papers and hands it to him. “Miss Y/L/N needs my help, so we’re done. We’ll pick back up another day.”

“But it’s all due by-”

“I said we’re done for today, Mr. Rowland.” The tone in his voice is final and stern and that familiar tingling sensation is back in the pit of her tummy. Mitch gives a dejected sigh and accepts the stack of papers from Harry, standing up from the desk in resignation.

“You know sir, it’s very hard for me to do my job correctly when you’re giving your assistant special treatment.” Mitch’s tone is sharp and Y/N can’t help but flinch.

“Perhaps if you did your job as well as Miss Y/L/N you’d get special treatment too. Now leave, please.”

Mitch looks between Y/N and Harry before exiting the office, shutting the door a bit too harshly. If Harry’s bothered by the interaction that just went on, she can’t tell. He’s giving her a big dimpled grin as soon as they’re alone, telling her to sit at his desk and get comfortable.

“Or you can sit on the couch if you’d like?” he points to the big olive green suede sofa pushed up against the wall adjacent to his desk. “Between you and me, I’ve gotten some of the best sleep of m’life on that thing. It really is quite comfortable.”

If people were already beginning to think Y/N received special treatment from Mr. Styles, she’d hate for someone to enter his office and see her all cozied up on his couch. They’d probably think she never did any work at all! “The desk is fine, thank you, sir.”

“Okay then,” Harry clasps his hands together, placing them on top of his desk. “Are y’gonna let me take a look at what you put together?”

She suddenly remembers that she’s in Harry’s office for the sole purpose of him helping her. She sits down and opens up her laptop, shaking the mousepad to bring it to life. The first thing that pops up is the draft she’d been working on.

“It might not be great yet, but I think it’s a good start,” she plays with her hands in her lap while Harry squints at the screen in concentration. “I mean, it’s more than I had yesterday.”

Harry looks up and into Y/N’s eyes. “It is more than you had yesterday. That’s good. Let’s not worry about the quality of anything right now - which by the way, doesn’t seem like something you need to worry about. This is very good so far.”

Y/N’s eyes light up at her boss’s praise. “Do you really think so? That’s a relief, Mr. Styles. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could’ve,” he answers simply. “Just needed a little help organizing your thoughts. Now, get to work. I don't wanna hear a peep out of you until at least two more paragraphs are written.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N isn’t sure how long she's been at Mr. Styles’ desk.

He long ago retired from helping her, instead deciding to do some work of his own (and Y/N’s. She noticed him emailing to confirm the details of an upcoming event, and that's her job!) She almost feels bad, but when she realizes she’s nearly done with both her research paper and infographic, well…it cheers her up. Y/N thinks she deserves a little reward for this and allows her head to rest on her chin. She’d just take a quick little break, just close her eyes for a teeny tiny second, and then she’d get right back to it. Not ten seconds after she allows her eyes to flutter closed, Harry’s voice causes them to snap back open.

“Are y’tired? Wanna take a rest on the couch, sweet girl?”

Her heart starts beating twice as fast at the term of endearment her boss just called her, but she tries to keep her cool. “No thank you, sir. I was just restin’ my eyes for a second - I swear! I wasn’t actually gonna fall asleep.”

“Resting your eyes, you say?” Harry’s plush bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he tries to suppress a grin. “I think that’s code for ‘sleeping’, hm?”

“Well I did go to bed pretty late last night…or at least I think I did.”

“What do you mean you think?”

“I woke up this morning with my laptop in my lap and all my papers still on my bed.”

Harry furrows his brows. “You’ve gotta make sure you’re getting enough sleep, sweet girl. You’re just too pretty to not be well-rested.”

Y/N’s little crush on Harry is absolutely solidified at that moment. He just called her pretty! And so casually too, as if it was a known fact! “You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course I do,” Harry pauses, smirking. “It’s why you get special treatment. Now, go rest for a little bit. I’ll wake you up if you fall asleep.”

Y/N gives her boss a weary look, choosing to ignore his comment. “Do you promise?”

“Sure,” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes, and something tells her there's a chance he's lying. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Y/N complies, wordlessly standing up from his desk and walking across his office to the couch. Her body relaxed as she sank into the firm-but-soft couch. Harry wasn't kidding - his couch was comfortable. It was very nice, and it makes her think about how nice Harry is. He cares about her so much and she thinks it’s really cute and sweet. Plus, she couldn’t get the way he looked and sounded when he called her pretty! It makes her feel so mushy and giddy. With these gooey thoughts of her boss in her mind, Y/N allows her eyes to flutter shut. Besides, Harry promised he’d wake her up. It’d be fine!

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N wakes up hours later, covered up with a yellow fuzzy blanket and a tiny pillow under her head.

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she sits up, the once light-filled office now dark aside from the dimmed lamp in the corner beside Harry’s desk. He looks up from the book he’s reading and at her once he notices she’s awake, a grin overcoming his features.

“Good evening, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Hi,” she rubs the sleep out of her eyes. “What time is it?”

Harry lazily looks down at his Rolex and then back up at her. “A quarter til 6. Y’hungry?”

He let her sleep for nearly three hours? “Not really, sir.”

“Are you sure,” he raises a brow. “It must take a lot of energy to sit there and look that pretty. You’re sure you’re not hungry, sweetheart?”

Y/N can’t hide how flustered Harry’s shameless flirting makes her, and she’s sure he knows exactly what he’s doing to her. “I, sir-”

”Sirrrrrr,” Harry drags the last sound of the word out, imitating her. “Let me feed you dinner. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

“But Mr. Styles,” Y/N can’t help the way her lower lip juts out in a pout. “I haven’t actually done anything for you lately! Every day I’ve just been coming here and working on this stupid assignment while you do my job for me. I don’t even want to see what my paycheck will look like this time around!”

Harry gives her a genuine look of confusion. “What would be wrong with your paycheck?”

“There’s no way you’re going to pay me for coming in to do my homework, is there?”

“Of course I am,” Harry replies. He sounds almost offended that she’d think otherwise. “You’re still comin’ in and staying here all day, aren’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Then your paycheck will reflect that, sweet girl,” he tugs on his lower lip with his fingers, appearing deep in thought. “I don’t want you to worry about things like that.”

“I’m always gonna worry about things like that,” she stares owlishly at him. “I mean, at least until I’m a rich CEO like you.”

Harry lets out a little chuckle at this and gets up from behind his desk. He makes his way across the office towards Y/N and stops when he’s right in front of her. She’s still sitting, so he kneels down so he’s face-to-face with her. He doesn’t seem to mind getting dust bunnies on his Gucci trousers at all.

“You’re right. That was a silly request,” he cocks his head slightly to the side, not breaking eye contact. “But please rest assured I will never be the reason you worry about money. Understood?” Y/N nods her head in response, but Harry shakes his head.

“I want to hear you tell me you understand. Tell me.”

“I understand.”

“Hm,” Harry splays his palm out on her knee causing a shiver to run down her spine. “You understand who?”

Oh. Y/N knew what he wanted. “I understand, sir.”

While she’s addressed Harry by the title many, many times she can’t deny how differently it slips off her tongue this time. She nearly doesn’t recognize the sound of her own voice saying the word, her tone subconsciously taking on a sultry and smooth nature. As quickly as Harry kneels before her he stands up, a pleased look on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that. Now, I don’t know about you but I’m starving and quite honestly want to get the hell out of this office. Do you have any dinner plans?”

“No, but I was going to study.”

Harry’s already walking back towards his desk to shut off his devices, mind already made up that he was leaving work one way or another. “While I usually am a big proponent of studying, ‘specially when it comes to you,” he slams his briefcase shut and she hears the latches snap. “I’m an even bigger proponent of taking care of yourself physically so you have the power to excel mentally. How does Italian sound?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N’s sitting across from Harry in a dimly lit booth not forty minutes later, the smell of garlic bread and marinara sauce overwhelming her nostrils. If she wasn’t so fixated on her food (turns out she was starving, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Harry) she might've noticed that he's hardly touched his own food. He was too focused on admiring her, and how cute basically everything she did was. When she does finally look up, the expression on her face goes from one of delight and contentment to confusion and concern.

“Why aren't you eating your food, sir? Is something wrong with it?”

Harry audibly coos at Y/N’s concern. “Nothing like that. I’ve had this dish several times actually,” he stabs his fork into a cherry tomato. It bursts next to a well-seasoned piece of chicken breast. “I just think you’re so pretty. It’s a little distracting, sweetheart.”

“Why do you keep saying things you know will make me feel all shy?” Y/N presses, taking a quick glance at her hands in her lap. “I’m terrible at accepting compliments!”

He frowns at this. “Can’t imagine why. You deserve all the compliments in the world and then some, I think.”

Y/N’s skin is on fire and she’s not sure how to respond to Harry so she doesn’t, instead she goes back to eating her plate of chicken parmesan and gushing over how flavorful the sauce is. Still, his food remains in front of him hardly untouched and his gaze remains on her.

“You know I can feel you staring at me from across the table,” Y/N says after a brief moment of silence. “Even though I’m looking down, Mr. Styles.”

“I’m not trying to hide the fact that I am. Why don’t you call me ‘Harry’ when we’re outside of work? Mr. Styles makes me sound old.”

Y/N sets her fork down and then looks back up at him, her head cocked curiously to the side. “I think Mitch was right when he said you gave me special treatment.”

Harry has an amused look on his face as he hums in acknowledgment, deciding to humor her. “What makes you think that?”

“I want to base it on just these past few shifts alone, but it’s more than that,” Y/N replies thoughtfully. “You literally let me come into work whenever I want. What type of boss does that?”

Harry can’t hide the delight on his face any longer. “You don’t think I offer my other employees flexibility? You’re not the only one that has a life, Y/N.”

“Okay yeah,” she raises an eyebrow. “But you still pay me for my entire shift even when I only go in for like, three hours.”

“I’m fair, if nothing else.”

“Sometimes when I come in I don’t even do work. We just talk.”

“I can find more work for you to do, if you’d like.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at her boss. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve this treatment. This ‘special treatment’.”

Harry takes a sip of his own water before he looks in close to the center of the table, beckoning Y/N toward him. “Can I tell you a little secret?”

Y/N’s so close to him that she can see the different colored specks within his irises, even in the dim lighting of the Italian restaurant. Not trusting her voice to not betray her, she simply nods.

“You get special treatment because I like you. A lot. I thought it was obvious.” He leans back in his chair after revealing his secret and begins eating his food again like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just drop a bombshell on Y/N.

“Really?” Y/N like how quiet and unsure her voice is, but Harry has her brain feeling like mush and she can hardly think straight. “I think you’re so cute, sir, and so kind-”

“Awww,” Harry repeats, tone mocking. “You think I’m cute, sweet girl?”

“Yes, sir, sooo-”

“Harry outside of work, yes?”

“Sorry Harry, I forgot.” Y/N can’t help the flush that floods her body at the act of calling Mr. Styles ‘Harry’ to his face, but he said it was okay!

If Y/N didn’t know better she would say a small blush crept over the apples of Harry’s cheeks after she addressed him by his first name, but she decided not to dwell on it. He looks at her nearly completed entree and his own, hardly touched. He looks around for the waiter and wordlessly flags him down, mouthing for the check.

“I think you’re cute, too,” Harry finally says as they’re waiting for their waiter to come with the bill. “Cute might be an understatement actually.”

Y/N’s noticed that Harry’s already started to develop this pesky habit of saying things for the sole purpose of flustering her (or so it seems) and she opens her mouth to respond but then closes it, unsure of what to say. Harry chuckles and pulls out his wallet just as the waiter comes back with the bill. He looks down at Harry’s nearly untouched plate of food and a look of worry fills his face.

“Was the food not to your liking this evening, Mr. Styles? Will you be needing to speak with the chef?”

Harry shakes his head quickly, and a stray curl falls down over his left eye. “Everything was perfect as always. Jus’ a little distracted, makes it hard to eat.” He quickly looks up and across the table as he’s signing his signature on the receipt but Y/N pretends not to see.

“I’m glad to hear it. Will you be needing change or a to-go box, sir?”

“Nope. We’re all set?” the waiter nods, to which Harry flashes him a big smile. “Perfect. See you next week, sir.”

The waiter nods his head at Harry, then at Y/N before turning to leave. Harry stands up and pushes his chair in, quickly moving to the other side of the table to pull Y/N’s out for her. He grabs her coat off the back of her chair and holds it up for her to slip her arms into.

“Thank you, Mr - Harry,” she plays with the sleeves of her coat once comfortably on her body. “This was really good.”

“The least I can do is keep you fed when you’re such a good little worker, hmm?”

Y/N gives him a bashful look before giving a small nod of agreement, playing along with Harry. He holds his left hand out at his side and Y/N only hesitates briefly before reaching down to grab it, allowing him to lead her out of the restaurant.

Harry doesn’t drop her hand even when they’re out of the restaurant, even when they walk across the parking lot to their cars parked next to each other. He doesn’t let go of her hand when he tells her what a good time he had at dinner. He doesn’t let go of her hand when he reminds her to work hard on her project over the weekend (but not too hard).

He definitely doesn’t let go of her hand when he leans down and gently presses their lips together, smiling into the kiss.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

I hope you enjoyed part 2!!! please let me know what you think!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles oneshot

542 notes · View notes

animementrash · 5 months

Text

Sigh too much

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Tags: Fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, they/them pronouns for Hange, implied canonverse scenario, Levi is DENSE

A/N: Heya! This is my first time posting my drabbles, I made my New Year resolution to get out of my comfort zone and post what I write, so any comment/feedback is really appreciated! Hope you like this short drabble! ♥

Levi’s heavy footsteps echoed through the hall as he walked towards the meeting room turned into office at the end of the hall. Without knocking he opened the door, his frown deeper than usual.

“Erwin, I want to switch offices. Now.” His raspy voice sounded annoyed and almost desperate.

“Pardon?” Answered Erwin as he looked up from his paperwork and towards the angry Captain at the door.

“I know you heard me. I need that done now.” The tone in his voice made it clear he wasn’t negotiating but demanding that action.

This whole situation surfaced after all the higher ups from the Scouting Legion were asked to evacuate their offices due to a much-needed renovation; thanks to the latest expeditions and the success on capturing not one but two titans, the Scouts had regained popularity among citizens and this leaded to a rise in their government subside which was eventually used to renovate the headquarters, starting by the offices.

“Levi, I understand your new office isn’t as neat or big as your previous one but…” His words were cut short by a loud snore coming from the desk next to his, there laid a sleepy Hange, pen still in hand and a bunch of papers scattered across the desk. “What I mean to say is, we all made sacrifices for the sake of the renovations…” Erwin looked at him with a blank stare, not intimidated by the enraged stare from the captain.

“You can send four-eyes in my place” Levi offered, still fixed on his target.

“Hange must remain next to me, for they are the next in command after me. And you know it.” Erwin was still unfazed by Levi’s persistence. Levi groaned and slammed his fists on the desk with an angry look. “I can’t work under those conditions” He mumbled still upset.

“What conditions?” A sleepy Hange spoke while they sat up and fixed their glasses.

“Enlighten us Levi, what conditions are you talking about?” Erwin added and leaned back into his chair.

Levi removed his hands from the desk and fixed his uniform before speaking.

“She, she sighs too much…” He spoke in almost a whisper, his attitude totally different to the one he had when he entered the office.

“I’m sorry what?” Said Erwin confused. “Sigh too much? What are you even talking about shorty??” Added Hange with a chuckle.

“You heard me! She sighs too damn much, it’s distracting” Levi’s voice sounded desperate and somewhat confused, was he really complaining about a sigh?

“Levi, do you have super hearing or something? Because honestly, I have a hard time hearing people talk, let alone sigh!” Hange barked a laugh, it was obvious this whole thing was very entertaining to them.

“Levi, I don’t think sighing is a problem as big as you see it” Erwin finally spoke as he tried to hide the smirk this whole situation put on his face.

“But it’s annoying and distracting! Also, she always has this silly smile on her face and her dumb perfume is too sweet...” The more Levi spoke the more stupid he felt. Why was he complaining about this?

“There, I sighed! Did you hear it, Levi?” Hange said still laughing, Levi didn’t even bother on looking at them, his piercing gaze fixed on the Commander. “So, I will have to just deal with it?”

“Levi, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do regarding this matter…if you want, we can maybe…” Erwin couldn’t even finish his sentence before an enraged yet flustered Levi left the room.

Again, his heavy footsteps echoed as he walked away, Erwin let out a sigh and cleared his throat before continuing with his paperwork.

“So, how long until he finally understands why he’s hyperaware of all her movements?” Asked Hange with a soft voice.

“Not sure, but one thing I do know and that is that putting them both in the same office was the best decision to speed up whatever there is between the two…” said Erwin with a chuckle.

“Hope she manages to take the first step before Levi comes here again complaining about the way she breathes…” Added Hange and both chuckled before returning to their tasks.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi aot #levi x you #levi drabble #levi fluff

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sadie-bug345 · 1 month

Note

could you please do greasers handwriting/spelling hcs🙏🙏💗 (like how legible it is)

YESSS ofc pooks🥰🥰

ponyboy:

guy has font handwriting

like he could write a hundred of one letter and theyre all identical

doesnt mean its perfect though

unironically gives comic sans😭

very legible

but not crazy neat

kinda switches between cursive and print way too often

8/10

johnny:

small letters, close together but he really digs into the paper when he writes

like he CARVES stuff in there LMAO

honestly writes pretty slowly and carefully

kinda messy ngl

6/10 when he’s stressed his writing gets WAY worse

sodapop:

actually really good

like you assume it’s ass but it’s surprisingly legible and neat

no one really knows where it came from, cause we sure as hell know he ain’t going to school😭🤓☝️

secretly takes a lot of pride in it

signature eats fs

10/10

darry:

all capital letters😭😭

my dad writes like this so that’s the inspiration

letters really spaced out too

so it’s like neat but also somehow really confusing to read💀💀

also his sentences in general are really practical and simple so it def takes a second to just understand what my guy is talking about LMAOO

5/10 try SOME curves in your letters pls

dally:

now i wouldn’t say serial killer but-

ok so its bad, we all know this, but you just gotta get used to it

all his letters and words blend together but he also skips every other line so it’s just so confusing to look at

why are you double spacing my boy😭

pretty curly letters just cause it’s faster to write like that for him

if you just glance at his paper it looks like ancient runes or smth but once you look at it longer, you make stuff out

4/10 what in the modern art💀

two-bit:

messy and couldn’t give a fuck

he the type to get a homework assignment and just scribble random lines and swooshes just so the teacher thinks he wrote a lot and just give him an A cause i mean, it’s keith

meanwhile in math his problems are all spaced out perfectly like DAMN OK SHOW YOUR WORK TWO BIT

2/10 please get this guy some help🥰

steve:

actually ass oml

like his handwriting hasn’t evolved since first grade

he writes at font pt. 36 too like just HUGE

tone it down my guy please😭

he the type to go thru all the trouble to pass you a note in class and then you look at it and you’re just like “what the fuck is this🧍‍♀️”

1/10 rip to his nonexistent teachers

ANYWAYS TYSM FOR REQUESTINGGG

#the outsiders #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #darry curtis #the outsiders sodapop #steve randle #two bit mathews #matt dillon #sodapop curtis

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hms-tardimpala · 2 months

Text

Ficbinding: Matryoshka Dolls

I got out of my reading slump long enough to read Matryoshka Dolls by Applecrumbledore, and I enjoyed it so much I bound it.

The fic: Supernatural, Dean/John, rated E, 24k I don't read a lot of Dean/John, but this fic was an excellent surprise. Its tough subject is very well-handled. Sam has a place in it too, and it explores grief and guilt really well. Also it's hot (I can't find the scenes between Dean and John titillating, but there are others).

The bind: I try to match the story's tone with the materials and colors I use. I almost bound this in black pleather on account of how dark it is, but at the last moment I chose brown, as a callback to John's leather jacket. I used green for the headbands and bookmark to mimic Dean's eyes. That way, the color representing John surrounds the one representing Dean, to call to mind John's control over his son.

The jacket in question is worn by Dean in early seasons, it was John's and he gave it to him (and even at 26 it looks too big on him 🥺). You can see it in this happy family photo:

What I like about this one:

The typesetting: it's quite sober (to fit the story), but I spent some time on it. I downloaded 20+ fonts before I settled on one. The Impala looks hella good. The drop caps are nice: they're frames instead of decorations, which is neat when the two characters in your story are deadlocked in a situation they love/hate and can't escape. It's also why I chose two parallel lines to highlight the years breaks. They're not much, but they felt more fitting than a single decoration.

The trim: I'm slowly taming my guillotine. This is the first project I used pieces of board as "cushions" when trimming the text block, so it's even despite the sewn spine being thicker, and it worked a treat! Sure, I'll have more grey board waste, but I was so fed up with uneven cuts and warped textblocks that I was about to sell my guillotine and give up on trimming. Look at this beauty. The edges are so smooth, even after rounding the spine.

The margins: they're perfect. I didn't cut too much or not enough.

The rounded spine: that's really my thing. I'm always disappointed when I do a straight spine, it makes the book look boxy, so I'm honing my craft on round spines. This one turned out great.

What I like less:

The cover material: it's not the first time this comes up in this section, because this material is from my stock of too-thick pleather that's not made for bookbinding. It made the corners too thick, but otherwise it behaved well. I can't afford not to use this material I already have, so I knew what to expect and I don't regret choosing it for this project. It's fine.

The endpapers: they're pretty enough by themselves, but I couldn't find ones that truly fit the story or would add meaning. Truth is, I have a very hard time finding endpapers. If someone knows of a site to buy some (accessible from France and not crazy expensive), I take suggestions.

Characteristics: Fonts: The Blackmore (title), Act of Rejection (author name), ZT Gatha semibold (text) Materials: fake leather, 80g/m² copy paper, pre-made headband and synthetic ribbon.

Feel free to ask me more about materials and fonts, it won’t bother me at all to tell you what I used, but I’m too lazy rn to write it in this post that’s long enough already.

#deanjohn readers: go read Matryoshka Dolls if you haven't already it's amazing #bookbinding #ficbinding #my bookbinding #spn #I'll never stop taking pictures at the window over my neighbor's courtyard btw that's where I get the most light

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the-cannibal · 1 year

Note

Hii!! Can you make a hcs for Sinclair Brothers with an artist reader who can draw??

Hello there! And I sure can!

Sinclair brothers (separate) with an artist s/o!

Gender neural reader - they/them and you is used

He’s used to having artists in the family. His mother was one, and his twin followed in her footsteps. But they mostly worked with wax. Not that they didn’t know other mediums, it’s just not what they usually worked with.

He is definitely the kind of guy to hover over your shoulder to watch you, and when you ask if he wants to sit he’ll decline and tell you he’s just passing through. But then proceed to just stand behind you and watch you create in amazement.

He probably asks if you can draw something for him. It’s usually some car or maybe an animal like a deer.

Totally brags about you all the time. “Yeah yeah that’s great Vinny, but look what Y/n made! Ain’t they just the greatest? I mean, look at the details they put in!”

He has totally given you at least one of those art kit things that every family member gets you for the rest of your life as soon as they hear you like art

He isn’t one to draw with you, but he will watch you and ask you about your art! Also is lowkey kinda relieved you don’t work with wax. He doesn’t know if he would be able to handle another Vincent-

Vincent

Of course this sweet man is bouncing off the walls in excitement after learning your interest in art!

As much as he loves working with wax and sculpting, it’s nice to have a change once in a while! So he’d totally sit and draw with you and show you his own work!

Omg if you show him your art he will feel so honored. You think HE is worthy of seeing your beautiful creations? Can he kiss you? Please let him kiss you.

Probably has critiqued your art (and might have been a bit harsh) but he doesn’t mean it! If it upsets you let him know and he will tone it down. He won’t completely stop (don’t think he could with Trudy being his mother and art teacher-) but it will be a lot nicer, going from “You’re shading that wrong” to “That’s very nice looking, but perhaps you might find (insert technique here) to be a bit easier?”

If you need any art supplies feel free to borrow his! Unlike Bo giving you the… “art kit”, he actually has good, working, quality supplies :)

Art dates are a must! Imagine going out for a picnic and bringing your sketch books and drawing together.

You both probably have pages upon pages of drawing of one another

Lester

BIGGEST HYPE MAN WITH ANY OF YOUR HOBBIES

He isn’t very artistic himself, but when he sees you drawing at the table you bet your ass he is grabbing a piece of paper and drawing with you. Is it a dog? A tree? No, that’s supposed to be… you? A kindergartener could have probably done a better job but you love it anyways

Makes requests all. The. Time.

“Honey can you draw Jonesy?” “How about my truck?” “Ooh! What about some bones?” “CAN YOU DRAW ME?!?!!?”

I could see him making you sketchbooks and pencils and leaving them around for you to find :)

Watches you with big ol eyes like 👁️ 👁️ HE CANT HELP IT! ITS JUST SO NEAT TO WATCH!

Also praises you like crazy to others. “Now would you look at this, Bo?” “For the hundredth time Lester I’ve seen-“ “no no NO! Look HARDER! Look at this amazing art piece that they made! Ain’t it just the greatest! Could probably put ma out of business with this work!”

Has totally tried sneaking your art into the wax museum… he was caught very quickly but that doesn’t stop him!

Would also hang your art on the fridge like the proud partner he is

#slasher x reader #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #cannibals writing requests #vincent sinclair #house of wax x reader #house of wax #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader

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yeastinfectionvale · 3 months

Text

Pecco held the torch in his hand, looking to Franky who was digging through his backpack full of tools. Bez adjusted his balaclava as Diggia rocked on his heels anxiously.

"why are you wearing a balaclava?" Franky asked Bez, worried that he was supposed to wear one as well. Bez huffed, "so nobody knows my identity." He answered, a very matter-of-fact tone in his voice. Diggia began to rock faster as Pecco looked at Bez with a deadpan expression. "We are in the middle of a farm which barely has electricity and nobody is home. Who is going to see us?" Bez cocked his head to the side, silent. Franky made eye contact with Diggia, trying to calm him from afar.

Bez awkwardly pulled the balaclava off, his hair bouncing free. "Fine what are we doing? Why are we at Cele's girlfriend's farmhouse at-" Bez checked his watch, "-2am?" Pecco's face fell into an angry expression. "We are here to get revenge on Cele's cheating ex-girlfriend." Shock covered all the boys faces hearing that their little brother Celin was going through his first breakup.

"What are we doing?" Franky asked as Bez paced around. Pecco scratched the chicken hair on his chin. "I was going to egg her house but I don't think that's enough and I forgot the eggs." Franky shuffled closer to him, "why don't we spray paint the window of her bedroom?" There was a round of commotion as Bez shushed them "Why don't we break into the house and burn all everything inside." Pecco turned to look at his friend with an 'are you stupid' look on his face.

"We could steal the catalytic converter out of those cars." Diggia said with a nod towards the three cars parked in front of the house. Everyone looked at him in silence. Diggia began to panic, fearing he messed up his chance to become friends with them. Bez threw an arm around Diggia's shoulders. "He's got the best idea." He announced as Franky agreed. Pecco was still deep in thought. "Yeah let's do Diggia's idea." Diggia felt relief hearing everyone agree with him.

So the four of them got to work. They started with a jet black Miata, both Franky and Diggia lifted the car up with slight difficulty as Bez and Pecco stuck cinder blocks under the tyres. Franky moved back as the other three played a quick game of rock paper scissors to see who would get underneath the car. Diggia lost and he quickly crossed himself before lying down in the mud, Bez holding the torch. Diggia quickly removed the converter and shuffled out from underneath the car. He handed the converter to Pecco who put it in the backpack. Franky and Bez lifted the car as they removed the cinder blocks, repeating the removal process on the other two cars; a dark green lotus cigarette car and a silver BMW.

With all three cars robbed of their catalytic converters, Pecco turned to spray painting the front door. Franky and Diggia joined in, the trio spray painting dicks onto the front door of the house. They heard the sound of liquid hitting metal from behind them but ignored it. Pecco finished his artwork, turning around to see Bez pissing inside the gas tank of the Miata.

Normally he would go off on Bez for being a stupid but the Miata in question was Celin's ex's baby. She was obsessed with her car, going as far as to ban Pecco and the others from sitting inside it. Bez pulled his zipper up and motioned for a spray car. Diggia tossed the one in his hand to him. Bez sprayed a neat heart over the gas cover, as soon as he finished a light turned on inside the house. The four boys panicked, running for cover inside a bush, the back pack of converters and tools jingling as they ran. A small elderly woman hobbled out with a wooden spoon in her hand. She did a quick scan of the area before returning inside.

They decided to not push their luck, returning home as fast as they could. Celin was fast asleep in his Papa's arms. The pair asleep in the living room when they got home. Pecco made a beeline to his brother, kissing his forehead and moving hair off his forehead. Bez and Franky also kissed him on the forehead, Diggia not sure if he should do the same. He stood back, scared as a heavy arm rested on his shoulders. Diggia looked up to see Vale with a small smile on his face. "What did you boys do?" Pecco handed the backpack to his dad. "Got revenge Babbo. We got revenge." Vale shook his head in mock anger, a huge smile on his face.

Vale sat at the kitchen table, listening to the four boys recount their story, as they ate with spray paint still on their fingertips.

Mig and Vale as a joke later mounted the converters on the wall as if they were prizes from an animal hunt.

#professional yapper #baby boots and riding suits

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gunraekae · 6 months

Text

love transcending time - aka ikevamp unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: dont mind me just leaving my cave to post this

trust i have a headcanon style post in the works and uploaded sometime in the next week or so, i'm just a bit overwhelmed with term papers and stuff sorryyy

enjoy and have a wonderful day dear

Chapter II: The Banquet

At the foot of the staircase was the mysterious gentleman I encountered at the Louvre. He gave a pointed glance to the men. At the sight of him, a wave of relief surged through me and I ran down the staircase towards him.

“It’s you!” I hurried down and stopped short in front of him. Suddenly remembering my composure, I clarified the situation, “Pardon, but do you remember me? We met in front of the ‘Coronation of Napoleon’ and you helped me.”

I was met with a warm smile, “Of course I remember you.” Alright, I can ask him about an exit—any exit—and I can get a ride back to my aunt.

Before I could ask him for directions, my saviour “Leon,” stepped in between us. “She says she came here through your door. Did you bring her?” His tone, and the way he hid me from the prying eyes of everyone, all of it feels as if he was… protecting me.

“I did not. I can give you my oath if you wish,” the gentleman mused, “her arrival is just as surprising to me.”

“Then how did she get here?” Although the men didn’t seem hostile, what they were talking about still made me uneasy. What did they mean by “his” door? And why did they talk about “my arrival” as if it was an impossible feat? Where even am I? I don’t understand at all. Something is very wrong here. I just need to get out. At the new wave of apprehension, I remember my aunt. She must be so worried. How long has it even been? I rummaged around my pocket for my phone. 2:50 pm. No signal. What is going on?

I found the last ounce of courage I had and interjected, “You’ve been very kind, but I really can’t stay. I was supposed to meet up with someone. We’re still in the 1st arrondissement, yes? Where the Louvre is? That door there, does it lead outside?” I asked my questions rapidly before anyone could interrupt me.

His expression turned difficult, “Hmm… I’m afraid the answers you seek will only confuse you more.” My pleading gaze met the gentleman’s golden eyes. “This isn’t the place for a long discussion, however. Would you join me for dinner, chère?” I asked a yes or no question. Any rationality left in my mind crumbled, and it seemed to show on my face, as the gentleman hurriedly added, “Tonight’s banquet is a rare occasion for us. But afterward, I will answer all your questions. S’il vous plait.” With a sigh, I resigned myself to his wishes. After all, if there was any person who knew my predicament, it was him.

Having owned a travel blog, I’d been to many hotels, from the hidden gems to the 5-star establishments, I’d seen it all. The gentleman’s dining room was unlike anything I’d ever seen. A stretching room with a long, clothed table with fourteen high-backed wooden chairs framing it. The mahogany walls had intricate wooden carvings around the high ceiling, and a warm atmosphere coated the room with the chandeliers and the candelabras. Four men were already seated.

The beautiful pianist with the sharp tongue sat at the far end, secluded from the others. He was true to his statement from before—he truly looked displeased in being here.

Around the centre of the table sat two men beside each other.

“Must’ve been something pretty important to keep us waiting here. One second longer and I would’ve left.” The first man’s voice was familiar, being the Englishman’s companion in the hallway I entered. His husky voice, with the Dutch accent, matched his appearance—domineering and brusque. He had slicked-back, brown hair and steely blue eyes with a cold expression. He donned a long grey coat, fastened with gold accessories on top of a dark blue sweater, layered over a neat white button-up; basically, what a sensible businessman would wear if he was born a century ago. His tall stature and strong build were noticeable, with him being the largest of the men so far.

“Now, now. Getting angry about dinner is not going to make the food come out any faster.” The second man seemed the exact opposite, being much easier on the eyes. He had fluffy blonde hair, and even though the two had the same blue eyes, this man was so warm, you almost couldn’t tell. His dimpled smile was almost angelic. He wore a shorter dark brown coat with a yellow sweater on top of a white shirt, but the most attention-grabbing piece was his long yellow scarf loosely wrapped around him. He was somewhat smaller than his presumed brother.

“I have to be angry for two, mijn broer,” the gruff one said. The two Dutch brothers seemed close despite being polar opposites.

The kind brother’s eyes landed on me, and he gave a welcoming smile, “Who’s that? Do we have a guest? It’s nice to meet you!”

My uneasiness was somewhat alleviated by his warm character. He looked like the paintings of the angels I’d seen in the musée. A few words from him make me feel like everything’s better. We need more people like him.

The fourth man was sat a little ways away from everyone, head down and eyes studying the piece of tablecloth he was fiddling with. He looked slightly younger than the others, his innocent cherry eyes matched his auburn hair. He wore a sensible white button-up with a grey vest that had a red lapel. A golden button of an apple was stitched to the collar, giving his otherwise professional outfit an almost adorable finish.

His gaze darted around the room, briefly meeting mine then quickly returning to the tablecloth, “Whoever you are, have you considered sitting down? There’s a queue behind you waiting to get in, you know.” His voice was light and airy with a crisp English accent.

The Englishman’s chipper voice greeted the shy boy, “Newt, old boy, you do care!”

He bristled, “Can you desist calling me that wretched—!” “Newt” placed his hands on the table, as though intending to stand up.

A disciplinary clap sounded behind me. “That will be enough of that, you two. I require good manners at my table.” The gentleman gave everyone a warning look masked by his cordial smile. “Let’s be seated. There’s a few empty chairs, but we’ll have to start the toast without them.” The butler had already snuck into the kitchen, presumably preparing the dinner. The Englishman sat beside the gruff Dutch brother while “Leon” sat beside the shy boy. He gave me a warm glance as if reassuring me that I was safe here. I couldn’t muster up a smile, so instead I gave him a timid nod. Meanwhile, the gentleman gently placed a hand on my back and guided me to a seat beside his, which was at the head of the table.

The various personalities together seemed as if they wouldn’t mesh well together, but surprisingly, with everyone seated down, it felt like they were all a family.

“A vôtre santé!” The gentleman raised a glass filled with golden champagne in a toast. A chorus of toasts responded to him by the men. While most of the men kept drinking, the pianist took one sip before quickly placing down his glass. Not quite trusting the gentleman from his elusiveness, but wanting to be courteous, I pretended to take a sip instead. I was too wary. Too much didn’t make sense. It should be almost 3 in the afternoon, and yet I was having dinner in a strange mansion. I should have been at the Louvre with my aunt, and now I’m dining with seven strange men. Interrupting my thoughts, the butler brought out the first course. To say the food looked like a culinary masterpiece was doing it injustice. It was a classic French spread, the sort that I had at the hotels but somehow even better. Still, I remained wary and didn’t make a move. Instead, I turned my attention to my companions. Who are all these men? They seemed normal, if not odd, but their appearances were so unusual. And they were all from different countries, so was this an international meeting of some kind? They don’t seem to be friends, but it felt like there was an ambiguous intimacy between them all. The gentleman, noticing my uneasiness, inclined his glass my way.

“Let us toast to tonight’s most glorious and miraculous encounter. Santé.” His alluring gaze was comforting, if not off-putting in its warmth. “...à la vôtre.” With such a direct toast, it was impolite not to respond in turn. I timidly raised my glass to his. He finished the rest of his champagne, locking his gaze with mine. Feeling guilty and slightly charmed, I took a small sip of mine. Unfortunately, it tasted wonderful.

I turned back towards the food laid out in front of me. My stomach quietly grumbled; embarrassed, I looked around hoping no one noticed. Wishing to justify my hunger, I rationalized that it would be insulting if I didn’t eat. I tried the terrine. Pheasant with fresh basil. And it tasted as exquisite as it looked. The bisque was delicious too. You can taste the crab. It’s thickened just right! I closed my eyes. Whoever made this food should be as famous as Gordon Ramsay. My increasing satisfaction with the food was noticed by the gentleman, and awkwardly, I chirped, “My compliments to the chef.” The butler from earlier, who dutifully stood by the kitchen’s entry seemed to relax from his stiff composure.

He chuckled, “he’ll be pleased to hear that.” Whether it was the champagne or his ardent smile, my nerves considerably eased. Maybe he’s just a harmless nobleman and I’m overthinking everything. Really, if you looked at this scene objectively, I was having a perfectly pleasant evening. Wasn’t this the sort of romantic adventure I was looking for in coming to Paris?

At the gentleman’s words, the men’s amicable chatter was silenced. “You’ve outdone yourself again Sebastian.” His disarming charisma powered over the room. He looked over the men and said, “I believe we should take this opportunity to introduce ourselves to our guest. I will start us off. Everyone has taken to calling me Comte de Saint-Germain.” Comte? A whole count? Maybe that explains this old-word aura he has. “And once again, it’s a pleasure to meet you, chèrie.”

“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine, Comte,” I mumbled, slightly flustered at his manners and my lack of it. I could feel the manor’s members’ eyes on me, and my face warmed at the attention. God, I’m making such a fool of myself. Le Comte de Saint-Germain next turned to his servant.

“This hard-working butler and the chef of tonight’s excellent banquet is Sebastian,” he fondly introduced. The stern butler from earlier formally bowed.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said. He spoke English with a faint Japanese accent. The butler Sebastian—how conveniently named.

The Comte turned back towards me, “It occurs to me we haven’t heard your name yet. I’d be pleased to know it.”

There can’t be any harm in telling them that. “I’m… MC,” I clumsily introduced myself. I avoided the eyes of everyone in the room, incredibly self-conscious and still apprehensive.

“That’s such a pretty name,” the kind Dutch brother piped up. His angelic face, which was sat across from me, was the first to reply, “I wasn’t expecting someone like you to turn up here. I hope we can be friends.” I finally raised my head and met his eyes to be polite, and his expression looked relieved at that. “I’m Vincent van Gogh, I’m a painter. It’s really nice to meet you.” I almost choked on my spit. A painter… named Vincent van Gogh. Is this some kind of themed event? Hoping not to seem offensive at my clumsy actions, I mustered a smile back. He seemed too kind to deserve my stupidity. “And this is my little brother. Go on, Theo, introduce yourself.”

“Vincent” gently nudged his brother, the gruff Dutch businessman.

“Theodorus van Gogh. I’m an art dealer. Don’t confuse me with my brother.”

“I’ll, uh, try my best.” They couldn’t be more opposite. I’m not confusing you two. “You’re not getting anything else from me. Introduction’s over.” To hammer in his point, he took a pocket watch from his coat and tapped it repeatedly, tap-tap-tap, to show that he had better things to do. How could Vincent be older? Theo had me pegged as the older brother with his seriousness. Realizing I was staring at the two of them in puzzlement, my gaze returned to the table.

Sitting to the right of Theodorus was the shy boy, “Newt,” who was difficult to make eye contact with, the both of us too nervous. If he could’ve curled up into a ball to be swallowed up by the ground, he would have. That being said, doesn’t he live here? I had more of a reason to be afraid of him than he was of me. “I’m Isaac. Isaac Newton. I study physics.”

“Nice to meet you… Isaac,” I choked out. A physicist named Isaac. They can’t possibly be serious. Despite the absurdity of this situation, I was still fearful of being deemed impolite. “Wait. Should that be ‘Sir Isaac—?’”

Suddenly, one of the dining room windows burst open. To my surprise, a man climbed in from the outside. I flinched from my seat and quickly glanced around to gauge everyone’s reactions. To my surprise, not a single person looked even remotely startled. The man, who had dark hair and strikingly yellow eyes chuckled sheepishly as he struggled through the window. He had such an easygoing smile that betrayed his serious eyes. He had an old Taisho-style kimono, with a dark purple haori, black hakama, and an unbuttoned white shirt. “Well, well, would you look at that? I’m a little late, aren’t I?” He’d just about fully entered the room when his sleeve got stuck, “...In we go.” He pulled at it comically, his actions humorously exaggerated and ineffective.

“God’s Truth, can’t you use a door?” Isaac sighed.

“And keep everyone waiting? No, no, the window’s a much faster entrance.” He smiled, nonchalant about his sleeve still caught by the window. He caught my bewildered eyes. I sat back down, but couldn’t wrench my eyes away from the bizarre scene. “Oh, hello there, young one. Why, I’m happy to see you here. How’s your dinner been?”

“It’s…good,” I sputtered out.

“Isn’t it? Well, it’s a Sebas-kun meal, so you really can’t expect anything less. You wouldn’t believe how fast his cooking gets gobbled up here.” He nonchalantly mused and sat on Isaac’s right, who then slithered away from him.

“Not to worry, you arrived just in time. We were just introducing ourselves to our new guest here.”

“In that case, I’m Osamu Dazai, just a poor writer struggling to make his way in the world.” His eyes closed with his carefree smile, which made him all the more handsome.

“Osamu Dazai. The writer. Okay.” I took a quick swig of my champagne. If I had to listen to the rest of these wild introductions I needed to be less sober. Should I have introduced myself as Marie Antoinette or something? I took a quick glance at the “van Gogh” brothers, who had started this odd chain of improv introductions. His smile seemed too innocent to be trying to fool me like this. Who the hell are these people? Is this some sort of prank? I glanced back at my now-empty glass. Was there something in my drink?

Skipping several empty chairs was the beautiful and cold pianist I’d met earlier. The Englishman called him “Wolfie,” but I bet that’s probably short for—

“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Composer.” Called it. His character seemed the least to play along in whatever nonsense chain the others made up. Of course, the pianist would be called Mozart.

“...Hello, Mozart,” two words I never thought I’d utter in my life.

The cheeky Englishman from earlier, who was practically buzzing with excitement piped up, “I do believe I’m next! I’m Arthur Conan Doyle. Mystery writer.” I pursed my lips and looked down at the table, uncertain whether I should laugh or sigh. “And don’t call me Sir, just Arthur. As long as I get to call you MC.” I quickly glanced up at him, and his eyes twinkled with delight. He, I could see was capable of making up this joke. But then, did that mean everyone was lying to me? No, not lying. They have to be pseudonyms. I looked around once again at everyone.

Vincent.

Theodorus.

Isaac.

Dazai.

Mozart.

Arthur.

They have to be. Maybe they have to use fake names to keep their real identities a secret for some important reason.

“I believe that leaves you.” Le Comte’s silky voice interrupted my racing thoughts. Only my hero remained. My protector. He was the only one who was genuinely on my side. The one who wanted me to get out of here. He promised to answer my questions. I trusted him, albeit instantly. But he couldn’t possibly lie to me too.

With his eyes that hid nothing, my saviour looked at me and said, “Napoleon. Napoleon Bonaparte… I’m a soldier.”

#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire sebastian #ikemen vampire isaac #ikevamp isaac

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nitw · 2 years

Text

did you guys know that i really, REALLY love both of the pilot episodes for mp100 seasons 1 and 2 because theyre fucking perfect. i'm gonna talk about them. shut up

S1E1:

literally the first thing you see is a distorted mob fighting evil spirits in a wasteland while his bgm plays. no dialogue, no context, no explanations; just batshit visuals and music to make sure you're awake for what's to come

introduces reigen in the funniest ways possible and immediately gets you familiar with his Vibe, yet leaves you with even more questions like "is this the main character? am i supposed to root for this asshole????"

whoops here comes a little boy! whoops he's extremely powerful! and doesn't that music sound familiar??

"THIS IS SHIGEO KAGEYAMA, ALSO KNOWN AS MOB- ... THE PROTAGONIST OF THIS STORY" incredible.

in contrast to All That we then see mob and reigen's ridiculous dynamic, followed by mob's daily life at school. whatever expectations you had about either of these characters 9 minutes ago were wrong (OR WERE THEY????)

now that you know the duo and their main characteristics a little better it's time to really watch them in action. the haunted tunnel does such a good job of showing what mob and reigen actually do at work, how they play off on each other's quirks, setting the tone for the overall supernatural plot, and of course the animation is just gorgeous too

ESTABLISHES THAT REIGEN ACTUALLY DOES LOOK OUT FOR MOB, AND WORRIES FOR HIS SAFETY, EVEN WHEN HE (REALISTICALLY) DOESN'T NEED TO. i can't stress how important this is to show from the beginning, i've seen so many people gloss over that detail and continue to act like he doesn't care about him?? wtf

ALSO ESTABLISHES MOB'S UNCONDITIONAL KINDNESS AND FORGIVENESS. very good

that final scene of mob just.. staring at a group of teens hanging out and talking together while he waits for reigen at the station, who then takes him out for ramen. it adds even more to the genuinity of their friendship, but also hints at mob's struggle to connect with others and figure out what to do in his spare time. all of that, that single episode is just like, the whole show. this is all you need to know

S2E1:

same old reigen with his same old schemes, but it's a nice detail that he didn't wamt to take money from the poor farmer guy and instead asked for a cut of his harvest (who said he doesn't even do fieldwork for a living anyway). reigen's refusal to accept unfair payment comes up a lot in this show and i think that's neat

same(?) old(?) mob goes "shishou for the love of god i have a life outside of this job yknow"

when the wriggle spirit captures reigen first and threatens to kill him if mob persists, mob actually lets his guard down. 1) he learned from last time 2) possibly foreshadowing how mob will be the one to save reigen in more ways than one this season

mob realizes that the spirit isn't directly possessing the plants, but rather sending out a signal that forces them to obey it, which is technically still a form of "control". COUGH minegishi COUGH COUGH toichiro

also mob basically learns plant magic! ~this action will have consequences~

🅱️ROCCOLI

lots of arcs that started in s1 are immediately continued! ichi and the psycho helmet cult, shinji stepping down from the student council, ritsu supporting his brother, etc. and just seeing how many friends mob has now that want him to succeed is amazing

the fact that mob even agrees to ichi's plan about the election and takes it so seriously is proof of how much more determined/confident he's become

mob gets asked out for the first time in his life, and even though it turns out he rejected emi, he's so cool about everything and still wants to hang out and get to know her - early s1 mob probably couldn't have handled it this well

"do you even have feelings, or your own opinions?" "i decided to consider my feelings more" THOSE ARE THE MAGIC WORDS FOR SEASON 2'S OVERALL THEMES AND PLOT BABEY!!!!

the floating paper scene. i don't even need to say anything just take it in

OHO? TSUBOMI? SCHEMING? LURKING? could this be the beginning of the rumored "character depth" i've heard so much about???

n e way. season 3 soon. explodes

#leo.txt #mp100 #mob psycho 100

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sigzaiofficial · 1 month

Text

“I wish you were a girl”

Kunizai Fanfic — (originally posted on Ao3)

Themes;

Smut, Angst, inanimate object x human

Warning: Very mediocre writing.

Summary:

Dazai's feelings race through his heart, intoxicating his lungs and sending a deep black smoke rippling through his body as if it were a fatal drug.

His dreams fill with Kunikida's lips slowly kissing over every inch of the brunette's skin.

Until he wakes up, and Kunikida is planning to marry a woman in the near future. Dazai isn't in his cards. Dazai is just a footnote in the story of Kunikida's life, whilst Dazai would write Kunikida's name on every page of his.

His delicate fingers drift over the page, the edge of his nail gliding against the thin paper as he writes with a soft black pen.

Dazai let his front teeth sink into his lip, his tongue slowly pushing up against the roof of his mouth. He let out soft breaths, staring aimlessly at the man in front of him. The blonde idealist wrote carefully onto the page, unaware of the brunette staring just a few feet away from him.

Staring was an understatement. He hadn't realized just how gorgeous his co-worker was. It was only a bit ago that he had first had a realization.

“Kunikida-kun!” Dazai shouted, a smile playing gently on his lips. They had just finished a mission. “You were incredible out there!” He said, his tone so soft. So genuine. “Elementary.” Kunikida responded, writing in his notebook. He had an overly serious expression, the notebook resting against his fingers gently. “Your turn to compliment me, Kunikida!” Dazai cooed. “On the contrary. You were terrible out there, almost got us killed.” Kunikida said, finally looking up. Dazai felt his heart flutter. He took a deep breath. His palms were sweating, his eyes unable to divert. He had Kunikida's full attention, and fuck did it feel good.

“Dazai?” Kunikida asked. “You're staring.”

Ah. Reality. Dazai had been staring. “Apologies.” He replied, smiling. “What can I say, you truly are a remarkable man.” Dazai said softly. “Whatever.” Kunikida chuckled, setting down his notebook. “I must be off. Errands. I won't be back for about an hour or so.” Kunikida directed his eyes to Dazai. “Do me a favor and refrain from starting trouble while I'm gone, will you?” He asked, receiving but a nod in return. Then he was gone. Leaving Dazai alone, with nothing but an empty notebook.

The rest of the agency was away on their own missions, and Fukuzawa was silent in his office. The brunette knew he had to be quiet, nonetheless.

He gripped the notebook, his touch gentle. He slowly glided open the pages, his breath hitching as he read over the neat handwriting. ‘ideal woman’ He eventually got to, scoffing. He let a grin take over his expression, sliding a thumb over the page. He reached a hand down.

His buckle was open, then his belt dropped to the floor. His button and fly quickly ending up undone, his dick bulging through his boxers.

Dazai gently slipped his cock from through the opening in his undergarments. He placed it through the opening that was once closed by the zipper of his pants, now unzipped. He was hard. Clearly from watching the blonde. Dazai took his dick in his hand, slowly rubbing over his tip. He took a shaky breath, tilting his head back with anticipation. He knew this was pathetic of him. Kunikida was straighter than a line and Dazai was a man. Wondering helplessly that maybe if he were a woman, Kunikida would feel some sort of love for him. Yet he knew that would never happen, not in this universe. And he could only hope for the next. He was left sitting in an empty office room, his pants down. Craving for an item Kunikida holds so dearly that he hopefully has a part of himself in it that Dazai can engulf himself in.

The brunette slipped his cock between the pages, his dick running over each ideal for a woman that Kunikida has. His meaty flesh draped over the words that read the complete opposite of what Dazai was. The words that explained just the person Dazai wished he could exist as.

“Fuck..” He groaned, his breathing unsteady. His thrusts between the notebook were quick. The wetness dampened the pages, the paper turning slightly transparent around the gentle writing Kunikida had tried so hard to convince himself that he wanted. Dazai knew what he wanted. To ruin it.

He continued thrusting his cock into the notebook, heavy breaths and quiet groans filling the room. A bead of sweat dripping down his cheek and falling into his hand, clenched around the desk. He let his teeth dip into the soft skin of his lip, his thighs trembling. And he came. Right onto the pages. He let everything stop, the thrusts, the heavy breathing, the grip onto the table, the thoughts of ruining Kunikida's perfect image. He just the mess take over his senses, the white cum spilled over the letters.

‘My idea’— and cum was spilt over the rest of the sentence. He exhaled at that, a smile over his lips. No more ideal woman. The requirements were taken over by Dazai, and every time Kunikida held the hand of the woman he already knew he would marry in six years; he would remember the pages. The pages would haunt his memories like the ghosts he feared so dearly. Dazai would take over his mind as if Kunikida had never seen the light of day and he would love every moment of it.

The notebook closed. Yet not by the hands of Osamu Dazai, the hand instead holding a pen between the index and middle fingers.

“It appears I have forgotten my notebook.” Kunikida said, looking down at Dazai. His heart had shattered at the sight. He felt torn. Between his ideals and duties, his childhood and his environment; and the gentle look in the eyes of someone who has always been but a stranger to him.

“I think you should go.” Kunikida added.

And Dazai knew Kunikida longed for him. He could see the look in his eyes as he saw Dazai so desperate for some sort of validation of his feelings. Yet all he received was an apologetic look and a one sided love.

“I love you.” Dazai whispered. It glided off his tongue so naturally, as if he was born to say such words. And he knew he was.

“I wish you were a girl.” Kunikida whispered back. His eyes filled with tears that were immediately forced down, swallowing back an apology, knowing nothing could help ease the pain of a broken heart.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #anime and manga #atsushi nakajima #bsd anime #fyozai #fyodor dostoevsky #kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida #bungou stray dogs kunikida #kunikidazai #kunizai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #kunikida x dazai #fanfic #bsd fanfic

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lucifer-kane · 5 months

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I truly do think one of the most interesting things amongst fandom is the same-ification of character designs for media where no one has a canon appearance (I'm coming from an audio drama perspective, where the majority don't have canon character designs). I'm stating this in the most neutral way possible, because it's neither a good thing nor a bad thing, it's just a thing that happens once fandom gets large enough. You'll see differing designs when fandom is smaller, but as the fanbase gets larger and or more "popular" artists join it (again not a good or a bad thing, but the following can make it a bit negative), people will take bits and pieces from other/popular designs and soon enough, 99% of character designs look the same.

And if I was a much more articulate person or someone who could get words from my brain down onto 'paper' like this, I could explain my feelings on this much better than just. I wish people would branch out with designs more, make multiple designs of the same character, change them each time you draw or write them, have fun with it.

I also hope for the fact that if there's no canon design, people in fandom don't harass others when a design isn't particularly up their alley. I also think things are changing as (as they should) creators hire/bring on voice actors of that characters race/ethnicity/etc (I don't feel fully comfortable talking about this part of it, as I'm white). While character designs of color are interesting, there's been better people talking about this better than myself, some people will just slap a brown/black skin tone onto a character without thinking of anything behind that regarding the character themselves. But that's all I'll say on that topic, as others have said it better than I.

But really, I think in 2024 it would be rather interesting and neat to see people expand on character designs outside of whatever is popular in the fandom. It's never been my thing to follow along with whatever is 'popular' regarding character designs (Ex: My Jon Sims changes each time I draw him I think, none of them what I see among fanon, same with my Sammy Stevens of the old kfam days). Unless something is stated in canon (mostly skin tone other than white! fandom could use more fat designs!) go wild!

But honestly this isn't me telling people what to do, god knows I'd never do that in this regard. But maybe just take a think about what/how you're drawing a character. Play around with character designs! It's very fun, I promise!

#long post #i didn't mean to make this so wordy good god #audio drama #fandom critical

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roses-dreams-andthorns · 1 year

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Woo finally getting out of writers block! sorry for the absence, Trey had exams and writers block, so that wasn't nice ;-;

Requests are open 24/7 again!

anyways, here’s today's fic!

Deuce Spade + Ace Trappola (Seperate) x Xiao!M!Reader!

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Deuce Spade:

Upon your first meeting, you were rather silent, giving mostly one word answers to his questions, your stare was colder than freezing temperatures, it made him shiver whenever you glanced his way with that stare... He figured that he should leave you alone, but at the same time, he was curious about you, though your stare was scary, those golden eyes of yours were almost hypnotizing, and your hair looked soft to the touch. He realized quickly many things about you, you clearly don't eat or sleep enough, especially when you say "Adepti don't need to sleep or eat." But he still wanted you to eat at least something, so he asked if you had a favorite food, you sighed almost as if you were annoyed, and replied with your favorite; Almond tofu, he didn't know what it was, but he was willing to find out, just so you could eat something at least... He eventually figured out that you had a softer side to you, after a while you had stopped giving him those scary glares, and he was instead met with a blank expression and a slight nod from you whenever he said "Good morning" to you, you're also talking to him a bit more, replying with at least a sentance, three if he's lucky, your voice was once just as cold as that stare, but now its softer, more... calm, per say. He viewed you as his friend (and crush), but he was unsure of what you saw him as, since your expressions were either anger, unamuzement, or just as blank as unused printer paper. He looked up to you as a role model for him, you were obident to the rules, you did insanely well with your classes, despite never speaking in any of them, you were organized and neat, and you were strong.

"Deuce." You suddenly said his name, in the middle of a conversation, sounding as serious as ever. "O-oh uh, yes Y/n?" he replied, "If you ever run into any trouble that involves a fight, call out my name. I will be there when you call." you said with no hesitation, he was surprised, but thanked you none the less, but then he spent the past 3 hours thinking about what you would do if he did happen to call out your name... would you protect him? Do you actually see him as a friend as well? He has 99 questions, but not one ounce of courage to ask you about it.

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Ace Trappola:

He's a very lively kind of guy, and you're a silent introverted kind of guy... opposites attract, I suppose. He was one of the first people you met in Twisted Wonderland, he slightly remined you of Hu Tao, but remove the funeral parlor director role and dark humor. He was a menace to you, dragging you to lunch with him and his friends, trying to scare you around every corner, pulling pranks and getting in trouble. When he showed up at Ramshackle with that collar around his neck, you gave him a stare colder than the temperatures in Antarctica, full of unamusement and dissapointment, you don't even bother asking him what he did, you end up just saying "deal with it yourself." and slamming the door(thats hanging on to its hinges for dear life), in his dumb but loveable face. Though he is a menace, you slowly but surely learn to tolerate him more, and he never leaves you alone still, and he sees you as a friend, though he'd never admit that, though the feeling of butterflies in his stomach whenever he's around never leaves him be... I wonder why... *Cough* he likes you *cough*

"Ace." you suddenly say, startling him a bit "Eh? what's up?" he asks, "If you ever run into trouble that involves a fight, call out my name. I will be there when you call." you say in a serious tone, he doesn't really understand, but he thanks you anyways(in a very confused tone). When he actually does call your name, you appear right by his side in a flash, shielding him from the threat that dared harm someone you saw as a mutual, you knock some real sense into those idiots, violently. He's quite amazed by your strength, despite the fact your physical appearance seems weak... to him anyway. If he's lucky enough to some how get a smile out of you, even if its just the smallest smile, he'll never leave you alone about it. Ever.

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡

#geshin impact #twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #ace trappola

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redheadspark · 1 year

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Hi! Can I have 11 with Jack Russell please?

A/N - I love this for Jack Russell! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Who Knew

Summary - No one could ever guess the Monster Hunting business would be a match-making business either

Warnings - Only fluff on this one :)

"Are you kidding me with this price? I thought it was lower the last time we did business, Mr. Rusell,"

"To be fair, my priorities and well beign has changed since we last did business,"

The client sighed, eyeing Jack Russel who was sitting patiently in the rickety chair he was occupying. The client then looked over the numbers again on the paper, seeing the contract that was drawn out to him and scoffing a bit as he pointed with one of his beefy fingers on top of the neat contract.

"And since when do we do contracts?" He asked, Jack giving him a small glare as the client went on, "Back in our day, these deals were simple and not complicated with negotiations and legal woes,"

"As I said, things have changed in my life," Jack explained calmly yet again, now interlocking his fingers on the top of the table as he was trying to remain cool and calm, "The world is changing, and although this is more underground than other professions and business affairs, I have to amke due and protect myself if something does not go according to plan."

"Protect you? That's a laugh, since when did you grow a spine?" The client asked with a chuckle. Jack was about to answer when the door behind him opened, heavy boots were heard and the client looked to see who it was. Although the person who was walking in was behind Jack, Jack could see the look on the client's face and he knew instantly who it was. He sensed and breathed it too: the light floral scent of a certain perfume he knew far too well.

"Since he got married, Morty."

You walked up to stand next to Jack, a hand on your hip and the other reaching down to touch the contract that was perched on the top of the table, "And I don't really appreciate you smudging up the contract I drew up for this deal,"

Morty clenched his fingers tightly together in his lap, almost like a little boy who got in trouble and was now getting a scolding from his parents. His eyes went back and forth from you to Jack, a bit too shocked to see the pair of you together.

You were another monster hunter that crossed paths with Jack two years ago, literally out in your line of work and trying to stop a cluster of vampire beings that were out feasting on a local village. Jack had no idea you were going to be there as well since he was hired by another client for the same problem. But as you two saw each other, covered in blood and sporting steaks and holy water, you merely thought it was coincidental.

Jack thought otherwise: He thought of you as beautiful.

You held your own and had a massive reputation for being one of the more intimidating monster hunters in the world. But you were also more secretive, your identity was 99% hidden and you were mostly anonymous in any deals you would make. You were called "The Ghost" amongst the monster hunting network, and you were known far and wide.

But after meeting Jack out on the field and having a brief talk after firing out which client swindled you and which was telling the truth, you realized that it would be wise to have an ally. So you went to Jack, considering him as a friend after introductions were made, and it was history ever since.

"You two...are..." Morty stammered out as you were eyeing him suspiciously and Jack then looked rather perturbed.

"Married. She's my wife, you'd be wise to be respectful of her in front of me," Jack said in a low tone, his growl almost heard in the termor in his voice.

"And he is my husband, and I would be very careful in your back-handed comments to him in my presence," You added in agreement.

You and Jack came a long way since you two became allies, then acquaintances, and then friends. It was some process to take since you were hesitant in bringing new people into your life. You had to be, your profession was not for the faint of heart. Jack understood, but that enver stoped him from being consistant in persuing you and wishing to calim your heart. You had to give him credit for being so kind and warm to you, almost tihnking of him having that Golen Retriever eneergy.

So you didn't mean to fall head over heels in love with him, but he meant to from the moment he saw you out on the field covered in blood and slime and wielding a steak.

"We are a packaged deal for now on," You reminded Morty calmly as you pointed to the contract, "And as a packaged deal, this not only guarantees you that we will be successful in our part of the deal in eliminating the threat of this monster but we are guaranteed a solid and consistent payment for doing our job. And this will also cover us in case you decided to go against us, and I assure you Morty, you better think twice before you do. No client has ever succeeded in going against a monster hunter, and lived to tell the tale,"

Jack learned a lot about you when you two got together: how you loved your eggs cooked in the morning with your coffee having cream mixed in it, how you loved to paint just to unwind from tougher jobs and intense clients, and how you knew how to negotiate in getting better pay from a job. Jack was more old school, taking the money that was given to him, but you changed that for certain.

"Amor, it's okay,"

"No, it isn't! They are swindling you! You need to ask for more than that for the kind of work they're hiring you, give me that contract and I'll make it better!"

You helped Jack with his own insecurities and fears since he was also a werewolf. That part never really surprised you since you knew hunters would have their own set of secrets, but it broke your heart in hearing all of the pain he would harbor to himself. So you know how to calm him when he was stressed, how to relieve that tension in his body when he was too wound up.

He made your heart better, and you wanted to make his own heart better too.

"So," Jack said as he pushed the contract back over to Morty again, placing a fountain pen on the top and eyeing him, "So we have a deal?"

and as Morty signed the contract, you felt Jack take your hand in his calmly and with love. It was going to be you two for now on, a package deal, and you both liked it that way.

The End

May Prompt Session

#jack russell x y/n #jack russell x you #jack russell x fem!reader #jack russell x reader #jack russell #werewolf by night fanfiction #werewolf by night #werewolf by night fandom #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #mcu writing #mcu fanfiction #mcu phase 4 #marvel fan writing #marvel fanfiction

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