#I mean maybe i am? But from my old references on how i think and act with people im INTO its not aligning
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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @wynnyfryd! Wynnyfryd has 34 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!
i don’t know, you figure it out
Plot Holes
biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!
Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!
She's got some of the FUNNIEST writing in this fandom, and it's very snappy too like. She's an editing demon for sure, she can take a concept that I'd think would take paragraphs to explain and find the right words to make it hit just as hard with like, two sentences. I also really really love how descriptive her metaphors are, really visceral sometimes, and she's really good at writing realistic life events but still making them fun to read about even when it's about like, devastating shit. The sex she writes is also intense as hell! -- @griefabyss69
Below the cut, @wynnyfryd answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!
Why do you write Steddie?
I am but a humble bisexual — I see two beautiful brown-eyed men makin’ beautiful brown eyes at each other, I go a little insane for two years. It is what it is.
What’s your favorite trope to READ?
late-night moments of quiet hopeful hesitant intimacy over a shared joint or cigarette. Thin wisp of smoke between them, stars dancing in their eyes. Yeah. YEAHHHHHHH
What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?
This isn’t really a trope so much as a dynamic, but I love a good dipshit 4 dingus dialogue-heavy scene. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eddie and Steve can both be very smart and knowledgeable in their areas of interest/expertise, but these are two young dudes with no access to the internet. I love letting them be confidently incorrect dumbasses. Just ‘yes and’-ing each other’s stupidity while an exasperated third character begs for mercy.
What’s your favorite Steddie fic?
Well, this question is impossible and furthermore rude. This question came into my home and didn’t take its muddy boots off. This question never mailed me a thank you letter for my lovely wedding gift. That blender was expensive; the absolute nerve. No but seriously, I think The Lathe by palmviolet is going to stay with me forever.
Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?
I’m a big fan of doing canon divergence from different jumping off points — the beauty of having characters live in the same small town their whole lives is that you get so many great opportunities for these “what if our paths crossed sooner” moments.
I have some very loose notes for a S3 fic where Eddie is the movie theater employee who finds Steve and Robin in the bathroom after they escape the Russians, and I also have an old WIP set between S1 and S2 where lifeguard Steve rescues Eddie and then spends the summer teaching him how to swim. Would love to revisit those after I finish the trailer park AU (which I will be referring to as TPAU because my fingers are tired and because ‘toilet paper au’ makes me laugh.)
What is your writing process like?
Uhhhhh. 😂 I mean, for TPAU, basically just insert the scene from Dune 2 of Paul’s first sandworm ride: I’m shaking I’m sweating there is sand in my nostrils and I am surely about to die— oh wait, maybe I’ve actually got this? Am I actually doing it? Oh shit, look at me go!
For one-shots I like to use a more structured outline and bracket method. I start by dividing my doc into numbered scenes, with each scene getting a notes section and a prose section, like this:
This format gives me a lot of freedom to switch up the order of scenes and to move between scenes so I avoid writer’s block. I can also jump ahead to scenes I really want to write without making a mess of my outline. Once I have something written in the prose section of each scene, I go back and work on replacing each bracket with prose until there are no brackets left. Lastly, I create a new blank doc and copy the prose over in order so I can read the full fic and work on edits from there.
Do you have any writing quirks?
I have been known to abuse a semicolon. And an em dash. And a conjunction at the start of a sentence. Yes, I do have ADHD.
I’m also a lyricist, so I feel like my prose tends to stray into poetry territory pretty often.
Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?
When I’m finished! Which is probably why I tend to stick to one-shots; I get impatient and want to post stuff the second it’s ready.
Which fic are you most proud of?
‘i don’t know, you figure it out’ for SURE. I’ve never written a fic this long or stuck to a writing project this consistently in my life. Like ever. The last time I even came close was my first NaNoWriMo when I was 16, which was, uh… years ago, plural, and I’ll leave it at that. 😂
How did you get the idea for i don’t know, you figure it out?
“There’s a dead rat on his doorstep.” That’s it. That first sentence/scene popped into my head while I was bored at work, and then I started thinking, “hey, you know what? I don’t know that anyone’s ever done a fic where Max and Steve trade places for S4; that might be fun.”
And then NaNoWriMo was coming up, so I thought it would be cool to try live posting a fully improvised fic every day for a month to see how many words I could write. And then this tragic wet cat version of Steve Harrington grabbed me by the throat and took over my whole life.
When writing Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!, what was something you didn’t expect?
How SAPPY these two got!! My god, boys, I’m trying to write smut over here, stop having a beautiful existential crisis!
(I blame Briston Maroney for that though lol, I think I listened to ‘Body’ like 1400 times that month.)
What inspired Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!?
@inklessletter posted this totally gorgeous art of Steve and Eddie recording themselves kissing, and I promptly lost my mind.
What was your favorite part to write from biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!?
This exchange:
Steve: “What? I’m just asking!”
Robin: “You’re being embarrassing!”
Steve: “No, you’re just embarrassed. There’s a difference.”
Like it’s just so them lmao
How do/did you feel writing i don’t know, you figure it out?
You know when you set out on a long hike in the summer and three hours later your calves are screaming and you’re covered in sweat and your sunburn’s starting to itch and this one horse fly won’t fuck off and your cell phone doesn’t even get service out here so literally WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF, and then you climb that last hill and look out on the most beautiful landscape you’ve ever seen in your silly little life?
Basically that.
What was the most difficult part of writing Plot Holes?
Ooh, that one was fun! The only real difficulty was trying to keep it to a microfic because the concept could definitely be fleshed out to a full story — @griefabyss69 and I were joking around about “what if someone did ‘plot hole’ for the @steddiemicrofic prompt fill?” and then that fic just fell out of my head in about 15 minutes.
Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?
For sure! I’m currently super proud of the graveyard scene in the most recent update of TPAU — I don’t write true horror often, but I love horror so it was really fun to give it a try! Favorite line from any fic is probably this reference to ‘You’re Divine’ in my fic Monsoon Season because I love uncomfortably-aroused prude Eddie, and his internal monologue cracks me up every time I think about it:
Freddie Monsoon’s debut novel is called The Fourth Chime, and it is, as far as Eddie can tell, the first installment in a series of unapologetically filthy fuck fests about a man whose lover gets flung into an alternate dimension during an apocalyptic event and miraculously returns as some sort of… sexy bat-boy with a fucking horse dong and a bite kink. Critics are calling it “the most romantic novel of the last decade.”
It’s me; I’m Critics.
Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?
My main project right now is finishing TPAU if it kills me, but beyond that, I have a few one-shots for @subeddieweek in the works, including a collab with @griefabyss69 that I’m so so SO excited to share. It’s hot, it’s funny, I can’t wait for y’all to read it.
Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?
First of all, as @wormdebut would say: I think you’re pretty. Thank you so much for all your hard work! I love this blog, and I love answering questions <3
Secondly:
- Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.
- Toss cubed sweet potatoes and parsnips, sliced sweet onion, and fresh garlic in a mix of olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary, and then spread in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet.
- Bake for ~40-45 minutes. (Potatoes and parsnips should be soft without being mushy when you poke them with a fork.)
- Prep your sauce: I made a dijon drizzle situation by mixing olive oil mayo, a dash of dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a splash of water, but you could also add a little dab of hot sauce, bbq sauce, or different mustards. Basically just grab like four condiments out of your fridge and play around with the flavors you like until you make a mix that’s thin enough to pour.
- Drizzle roasted veggies with sauce.
- Enjoy a very tasty side dish (or do what I did and eat the whole sheet as a meal like some sort of parsnip goblin because you were too lazy to make the main dish after chopping all those veggies)
okay thank you love you byeeeee
Thank you to our author, @wynnyfryd, and our nominator, @griefabyss69! See more of Wynnyfryd's works featured on our page throughout the day!
Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!
#writer's spotlight#steddie#steddie fic recs#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#stranger things#ao3 writer#steddie writers#writer's wednesday
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If Nero has 200 IQ, this is the phone he’d gift to the twins.
Yep, the myth, the legend, the one and only indestructible force in the universe - Nokia 3310. I think it would be hilarious if Nero gave the twins one phone, because:
a) they need to learn to share
b) by combining their singular brain cells together into a rich commonwealth of two, they might just figure out how to work the phone
Of course, the indestructibile nature of this phone is a necessary feature. Now, you might be wondering why?
Nero decides to give the twins a call, maybe invite them over for dinner. After only a minute of waiting, Dante picks up. The background echoes with gunshots, exclamations of 'schum’ and menacing demon screams in a clear indication that the twins were out on a job.
“Hey, what's up, kid?”
“Uh sorry, you busy?”
“Never too busy for my favourite nephew.”
“I'm your only nephew.”
“Doesn't make it less true.”
“Suuure. Look, can you pass the phone to Vergil? I need to ask him something.”
“Aw, you're breaking my heart. Here I thought we had something special.”
Next, Nero hears demon screeches growing louder. A loud crack. Some shuffling noises before Vergil calmly answers the call.
Now it's time to play a game of ‘guess what the hell happened there’!
If you guessed - ‘Dante, being Dante, decided to showcase his phone-passing skills by bouncing it off a demon’s skull over to Vergil’ - then you're correct! A clear example of why the twins need a phone that can endure some serious beating. I'm also a firm believer that the Nokia could double as a weapon of great destruction in the field. I doubt getting hit with that brick on the head was easy to shrug off for the unlucky demon.
Real question though, what would the twins set Nero's ringtone as? And vice versa, Nero's ringtone for twins? (I know, I know, Nokia 3310 doesn't have a custom ringtone feature, but shhhh.. Nico works her miracles on the phone.)
Depeche Mode - Personal Jesus?
I mean, teeeechnically the twins are sons of a god? Or could it be Vergil referring to Nero as his son?
Guns N’ Roses - Sweet Child O’ Mine?
Need I say more? Although it would be hilarious if Nero set it as a ringtone for the twins.
He sighs deeply upon hearing the familiar ringtone, knowing it could entail anything from a world-ending cataclysm to another petty squabble. So he pauses his conversation with a Fortuna resident, saying, “Sorry, I gotta get this. Kids are calling.”
“Awww, and how have the orphans settled in?”
“Huh? No, my other kids.”
The Fortunan looks at him in confusion just as Nero finally picks up the call and starts pacing.
“What's up, dipshit?”
“Sounds like a you problem to me.”
“What? No, I won't talk to Vergil for you. What are you, five?”
“Look, you fucked yourself into that problem; you can fuck yourself out of it.”
Nero quickly drops the call and turns back to the person he was speaking to. “Sorry about that.” The resident only gives him a weird stink-eye, and Nero finally catches on to what's the issue. He coughs awkwardly and tries to smooth the situation, “Forty-year-old children, am I right?”
Ghostbusters theme?
Depends on how common knowledge demons are. The Sparda's might be ‘ghostbusters’ as in the myth catchers for hire.
Yeah, I'm gonna stop this long rambling shitpost here. Otherwise, I could keep listing ringtones on and on.
#dmc#devil may cry#master rambler#the unstoppable force of Nokia 3310#dumbasses own a cellphone AU#rated T for Nero's mouth#ruin your Fortuna rep in one simple step#be Nero
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‘ ONE OF HIS GIRLSSSS ! ,
ᡴꪫ sum. toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)
wc. 6k
warnings. fem! reader, vōyerism, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), unprotected, praise, dirty talk, squírting, cunnílingus, slight dumbification, impact play, size kink, spit.
dbf! toji masterlist
“guys, i’m serious,” you’d utter, your monitor staring right back at you — a full live audience of over twelve thousand eyes listening to you speak. you were cooped up in your room, slouching on your chair with your legs pressed together. “he’s totally real. we even almost got caught one time.”
you were referring to your dad’s best friend, toji…
just muttering his name aloud made you feel all sorts of tingles. oh, to think how that 'one time' was just about three days ago. you still remember everything like it just happened, the intoxicating taste of toji’s lips, his unforgettable loud cologne scent, how fucking mean he was, you missed him, who were you even kidding. last time you checked, him and your father went out somewhere. you didn’t bother to care where, probably fishing or something.
skimming through the plethora of donations with filthy questions, thirsty provocative questions that desperately craved your attention, you read one, “how is he in bed, oh—well,” and you squeeze your thighs before re-adjusting your screen. “he’s okay. i had to fake my orgasms a few times though, figures ‘cause he’s kinda old.”
“oh yeah?”
as if on cue, there toji stood—right outside your doorway, hands buried in his deep roots of pockets and that same unreadable expression. he’s sending you straight daggers, you crane your neck to glance at him before you panic, “uh, i’ll talk to you guys later.”
“nah keep that shit on, girl,” he shakes his head, trodding his bare feet towards you. you mentally face palm. you could have sworn he was out somewhere with your father. “just when i thought ya couldn’t get even freakier,” he mutters, and he’s now behind you—green irises peering at your monitor. the chat suddenly spams with some of your audience lusting over toji, wondering if he’s a special guest. “heyyy,” he says to the screen, his voice was a pitchy low and then you gasp once he throws an arm around you. “is he a special guest?” and then he turns to you with a sly grin. “i don’t know, princess . . am i?”
“. . . i mean i guess,” you speak, not even realizing how your tone softens a bit. this always happened, whenever you were just a few feet away from toji, you’d feel so tense. it’s officially been a week since the two of you were screwing around—you hadn’t gotten caught, at least you think you haven’t gotten caught. the thrill of it all though, it was enticing. he eyes your little set up and he’s amused more than anything. “this is the guy i was telling you guys about,” you avert your dilated pupils back towards the bright screen. “this is . . . toji.”
“heh yo,” he scoffs at the screen with a greet, seeing how your confidence fades the moment he’s in the room with you. toji leans beside you, eyeing the lewd comments before one catches his eye. “tell him to turn around. what for?”
you sheepishly grin at the webcam, knowing some of your aroused fans wanted to take a quick peek at toji’s ass. to be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame them. you stare a bit yourself, and it was definitely. . . something.
three new tips from mod gojoclitoru: girl bye he looks like he doesn’t shower
wormfucker69: he looks like the guy who works @ my cleaners lol
shokostrapdestroyer: Where’s Shoko ?????
kanyeastinfection: Soooo hawt ;)
iloveosamudazai: i miss nanamin
“how come y’er all shy? i heard what you’ve been saying ‘bout me, y’know,” toji mumbles. he stands tall, cracking his neck towards the left. his entire frame, he was always so handsome. you take a moment to glance up at him, his perfectly chiseled physique. he looked like he was about to head to the gym, he had on a simple wife beater with dingy grey sweats. his gaze he had towards you was purely tantalizing. “. . ah,” he inches closer towards you, bending down as you sat on the office chair, getting right up close to your face. “why don’t you repeat that last bit for me. you fake your orgasms with this old man?”
“i didn’t ….” you trail off, trying to come up with some excuse. suddenly, it felt hot. you felt hot.
your heart starts to race the more he stared you down. the chat was going at a much more rapid speed, it’s like your viewer count doubled the moment toji entered. then you thought—maybe this would do you some good, having him as a special guest didn’t seem so bad.
he lightly grabs your chin, making you peer straight into his eyes. “i stay away from you for three days ‘n it seems like you forgot how to act.”
toji did have a point precisely, for the last three days you basically had the entire house to yourself. him and your father went out to some business trip, you missed him though.
of course, if you tagged along you’d be sure you’d both get caught so you just offered to watch over the house. it was as if the more time you spent with toji, the more you started to feel something.
you didn’t know what it was, it was hard to put into detail, put into pure words—but you knew for certain, you didn’t wanna stop seeing him. it was spring break after all…
“i meant what i said,” you mutter.
while returning his gaze, toji’s eyes widen for a bit, off guard by your sudden switch of attitude. you had a bit of a plan, you decided if you played along, your sweet thousands of fans would eat it up. and they were, the repetitive high-pitch sounds of constant donations rang through your ears before you continue to speak. “i faked everything, toji.”
his eyes linger into you for a long time before he drags a thumb down your lip. “well shit. that so?” and his voice—it pitches a dangerous tune. you already start to feel your thighs squeeze together more tightly. “mhm,” he grunts, watching you nod your head in response. he scoffs to himself before grumbling. “maybe i should make it more real for you then.”
with such simple words, trust and believe he does.
toji’s way of making it more real was to simply have you ride his face, all in front of your audience too.
for some reason, you felt burning up coming to the sheer realization that literally all eyes were simply on you. a quick glance at your blue light monitor and the viewer count displayed a hefty whopping amount of 12,295. all you could think about it was the hefty bank you were about to make.
your legs quaver as toji’s laid flat on your old bed, having you take your seat right on his face — his breath is hot as he runs his tongue alongside your inner thighs before giving you a stare. “eyes down here, not them,” he snarls, and you moan once he spanks your pre-soaked clit, your panties still attached. “they aren’t about to fuckin’ eat you out, are they?”
“n—no,” you murmur out, looking down back at him and he slowly runs a fat thumb down your slit.
oh, you were soaked alright.
a cute little damp spot between the middle part of your underwear makes an appearance and he slides his tongue all against it. he’s so slow with it all, making sure to take his time to make you pout out for him. “toji,” you mumble, feeling your tummy sink in before you huff out a single breath. he’s still so attractive, even underneath you—a little yet nice amount of facial hair scatters near certain parts of his face. scattered specks of brief darkened hair near his sharp jaw paint his face like an empty canvas. you run a finger against his chin and he shoots you a sleazy grin. “hurry up, toji.”
dark eyes flicker back towards you before he gifts your sopping pussy a mean spank. “hurry up toji,” he mocks your tone. you melodically whimper, watching as he licks a single stripe between your covered slit. “shut the fuck up. ‘m gonna take my time with you since apparently you ‘fake’ everything.”
you couldn’t help but merely slip out a giggle, your comment really offended him in some way. obviously, you were joking though—you and toji both knew he knew how to snatch multiple orgasms out of you at once. he was quite a skilled man without question, with his tongue—his dick, literally anything.
although, you snap out of your salacious thoughts the moment you feel him latch his tongue against your folds. it took you a minute to realize your panties were already off, he practically ripped them off and he was already digging in. you whimper, hovering your weight over his face before staring at the lit up monitor.
BIGDICKKUNA: Even my domain has better camera quality than this
gojoclitoru: here sukuna go…
FOXYKITTEN2940: clean up aisle my pants >.<
you’re starting to grind against his face, a hand combing through his hair before your bite your lip. toji stares at you, dragging a thumb down your puffy slit before leaning back to spit on it. he was always such a sloppy man—no shame in the world. you’d feel yourself pulsate whenever he did that, departing his lips away from your cunt before collecting a good wad of saliva to coat your folds with such a sheeny translucent color.
squelch after squelch, undeniably you were sopping. his nose briefly prods against your nub and you whine once he finally starts to actually eat you out.
“f-fuckkk.” you’d breathe, intaking a sharp breath. sudden dizziness overtook you—a thrum escapes from your sheeny lips as you rock your hips forward. it was hypnotic, the way you move against his mouth. toji looked so pretty underneath you too. his eyes, so hooded and half lidded—such a hungry gaze, a starved animal. he starts tantalizingly slow at first, making sure to lay the flat of his tongue against your entrance before simply digging in.
side—to—side, his head continues to swiftly shift and move as he’s devouring his meal, a thumb continues to strum against your slick arousal before he starts to suck, suck, suck.
candy, a perfect way to describe your taste in toji’s humblest opinion. he could never get enough, a few long strands of his hair tickles against your thighs as he resumes his sloppy eating. “mhm. pull on it.” he says between hot breaths, and you feel a sudden fire ignite inside of you. you knew immediately he was referring to his hair. such ruffled, messy strands desperately awaiting to be tugged by your fingers.
so you do—you take a good grab, lightly yanking him forward and he grunts.
“. . harder,” he rasps, and he’s already starting to look blissed out. eyes all glazed over, you wriggle over his face before you feel a sudden shiver overtake you. you pull harder and his face goes right against your cunt. you sloppily swipe against his nose like a credit card and he smirks at you. “that’s what ‘m talking about. ride my face, girl.”
his words, his filthy vulgarly words guide you through it all.
each pulse makes you twitch even more—each breath that runs out your mouth feels like it’s going to be your last, especially with a tongue like toji’s. he makes sure not to miss a drop, slurping quite everything out of you. he was a man—not necessarily a clean one, but he was never scared of a little mess. you start to coat the bottom part of his chin with your slit, it’s glistening so much.
after a while, toji’s already drunk off of your sweetened taste. every few flicks of his tongue against your nub makes cute whimpers coo out your throat and you only tighten the grip against his hair.
“r-right there, ‘s good when you suck there, toji.”
“cause i know what the fuck ‘m doing.” he grumbles back, bringing his same thumb to slide down your slit. he repeats it again and again. smearing your own mess right back on you, only to clean it up. he was a messy man, and with a tasty pussy that you had—you only made him ten times messier.
he was never one to complain though, toji’s the type to never say thank you—he shows you how grateful he is, it involves with being between your legs.
toji fushiguro…
a sleazy man without a single care in the word, maybe messing around his with best friend’s daughter slash colleague was a bit taboo. but did he care—no, was he gonna stop doing it—no, was he perhaps catching feelings for you the more time he spends with you? were you catching feelings?
. . .
unanswered questions, even if you asked yourself that question, you honestly couldn’t even know how to reply. the two of you never really labeled anything, so this was just a simple spring break fling right?
once courses resume and you go back to your well prestige university your father got you into due to connections, that’d probably be the last you’d see of him. toji fushiguro, the man you’ve been screwing around with for the past almost two weeks. it’s almost safe to say that you started to get attached to his presence—sometimes it’s like the two of you didn’t even care if you got caught. there was literally a time where toji fingered you under the table during dinner.
that was . . embarrassing.
the way you were trying to withhold a conversation with your father—he’s just rambling you about what a boring day he had at the office and you’re over here gushing on his best friend’s fingers. you find yourself thinking about that specific moment all too well—as well as the various other ones, him fucking you on the hood of his car, in the living room, and even the bathroom—which your panties ended up getting found.
oops.
“told you to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me,” he hoarsely rasps—snapping you out of your lewd reminiscing fantasm. his tongue, it’s swirling all against your clit as you focus your attention back towards him. with two big hands, he holds your jerky hips steady—feeling you rut against his mouth before he feels you pulse right in his mouth. “yeah.” he mutters, bringing two digits to prod towards your slick entrance. you whine, feeling him slowly insert them with ease—so wet, he was almost in awe at how you were dripping like a faucet. not even a faucet could compare nor describe how sodden your sweet cunt was. each lap he makes with his tongue gets more filthy, it turns into sucking before you’re practically spasming all over again.
you moan, hands still tight and rigidly tangled within his strands before you take a quick peek at your laptop. so many eyes were on you—so many more eyes now, the count was steadily doubling, the donations you were receiving made your mouth nearly water. tip after tip, your pupils turned into green dollar signs. this was probably the most viewers you had in the entirety of your little cam girl side hustle.
all thanks to toji.
you’re getting close, it’s inevitable—especially with the way your hips continue to rock back and forth. a cute rhythm he got accustomed to, toji brings two rough hands towards the fat mounds of your ass before squeezing it. he was always a handsy man, feeling all over your body. green pools of eyes stare right at you as you’re intaking each staggering breath that escapes your spit-glossed lips. “c-close, toji,” you’d babble out, your knees almost buckle—a sudden twinge pouring into your lower abdomen before you mewl. “gonna—cum, gonna—”
“baby hold it,” he says sternly, the base in his voice never failing to make you wet. he breaks his lips away for a moment before he glances at the screen—an upside down position. “hm. chat, should the pretty girl finish early?”
your heart drops—you knew how many trolls you had in your audience, and before you could cutely tell him to just let you climax, he hums in amusement at the incoming flood of comments.
chososbootylicker29: Petition to have Toji oiled and cheeked up
zorosballswallower: NOOOOO
anonymoususer: dad?
gojoclitoru: lol no.
and with many others the comments continue to flood.
majority of the answers being no—you hated being edged, loathed it. especially with toji because he was so damn mean. he snickers, reading the responses upside down before you feel the two tips of his fingers shove way deep inside you. your back arches and you whine ore he holds your hips in place with a single hand. “looks like y’er little fans want you to wait pretty girl,” and you look down at him with a cute glare—his lips depart and his entire mouth from the very bottom of his chin was damp. even still, he looked so attractive. “cute. a glare ain’t gonna change nothing though,” and a pout shortly stretched against your lips as he runs his tongue near your frantic pulsing clit. he brings a spank to it and it makes you whine. “be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer.”
“i can’t,” you frown out, and that only earns another sharp spank towards your folds.
“yes you fuckin’ can,” and you start to whine once he stops eating you out. it felt so warm, all of a sudden the cold air wafts against your skin and you shudder. toji loves more than anything to spank your pussy whilst staring right into your eyes. “if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.”
my girl…
for some reason, that made your pulsing ten times worse, a plethora of butterflies arise inside your stomach and you’re still just hovering over his face.
he palpates his fingers—not his tongue to rummage all inside your cunt, you frown cutely. you wanted his tongue, not his stubby thick fingers. although, the thing you wanted most was to finish. as you grind against his face, you feel his infamous scar run against your pussy and it tickles. it tickles in such a way that it drags out a sweet crying moan from you.
“t—toji,” you start to grow impatient. he’s just teasing you, blowing against your folds with warm breath, swiping his nose alongside your sopping entrance, anything but tasting you again. he likes seeing you like this, on the brink of tears because you got denied a climax. it started to come closer and closer until once it was finally there—you puff up your cheeks for a split second before moaning. “g-god, i can’t hold it. ‘m gonna cummm.”
“wait,” he utters in a husky rasp, watching as you quaveringly hover over his face—chin just soaked with your arousal, he licks the bottom of his lip before tittering at you. “you finish when i’m ready.”
“f-fuck you,” you whimper, and you end up cumming anyway—he’s taken aback but it only arouses him even more. the brat, oh the brat that you were. one of the many things he liked about you, you were submissive but not entirely—you had a backbone, you talked back to him, you even had the nerve to roll those pretty eyes at him.
it hits you like a semi-truck.
illegal full speed, the brakes were had to step on and you feel it just strike right into you at full force. your orgasm, you scoot your hips forward against his mouth and now he’s the one glaring at you. toji laps up all of you, two fingers spreading your clit apart before he spits on it again. “you just don’t listen, huh,” and his voice was even lower than it was before—a rich baritone lingering underneath it. you’re riding out your climax when he lightly shoves you on the bed.
in your mind, you’re thinking . .
finally, the good part.
toji grimaces at the cute smile that goes against your lips. you’re eager just as him— not to mention, it’s been three days since he’s touched you. “don’t get too excited, brat,” he grumbles with a scowl tugging the corners of his mouth. he plops onto the bed before staring down at you. “bend the fuck over for me. fake orgasm my ass.”
so blunt, you immensely comply—so impatient for him to just be inside of you.
the piles of donations triple by this point, and you try to take a peep at your screen before he spanks your ass. “ass up, face down little girl. don’t got all day.”
“sorryyy,” you giggle with a mere eye roll.
testing toji’s patience was always so fun for you. for whatever reason, getting on his nerves really turned you on. once you finally bend over for him, two hands grab the fats of your ass and you bite your lip once he prepares to align himself. you’re facing your bright lit screen.
the comments talking more about toji than you and you pout . . . figures though. he’s hot, no wonder all the attention would be on him instead of you.
with his right hand, he wraps it around his thick length before rubbing his tip against your pre-drenched entrance. he grunts, witnessing how your pussy tries to swallow him so easily…
you’re puckering, awaiting for him to stuff you full as you’re slump right into the mattress. “but sweetheart, y’er not sorry,” he grunts, smacking his fat tip against your slick folds. a soft mewl runs out the back of your throat before you arch just a bit more. with another spank, he snarls in a huff, “not gonna fuck ya that easy. y’er gonna have to use those manners if you wanna get what you want.”
“huh?”
“huh?” he mocks, kissing your ass with another spank from his palm. “you can’t hear? speak, girl. talk ‘ta me nice.”
glossy eyes of yours avert towards your screen, everyone’s lusting over toji and it only fuels his ego even more—you easily felt yourself throb, a pout never leaving your lips before you inhale.
“please . . ” you start, feeling him softly drag a hand against your curves, your physique. his touch always had you weak, taking in every part of your frame. all his . . just for these few weeks.
“please what?”
“please f—fuck me,” you grumble, and you’re growing more and more irritated—he hums to himself, amused. each second you spend speaking, each second he could be inside of you. you and him both knew that.
toji rubs his leaky tip with a bit more pressure against your pussy, just a a little more and he’d be inside. you started to feel your mouth salivate before you start to whine. “hm,” he ponders to himself, green eyes occasionally staring at the laptop that had about hundreds of comments spamming per second. “fine. i feel like bein’ nice to you today, especially since i haven’t seen my girl in a hot minute,” and again, he refers to you as his girl. it sends an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies brewing up in your stomach before he spanks you for probably the umpteenth time now. “now, arch a liiiitle more ‘n stare at your fans for me, yeah.”
you’re propped on the mattress with your ass all up in the air. from your screen as you stare at it, you spot toji’s mirroring reflection. that sly smile that slowly and gradually forms against his lips.
“lie the fuck down.” he mutters, feeling you try to sit up. you do, intaking a single breath before you feel him huff out a low puff. toji’s eyes stare right at your ass, he takes every moment in. the way you suck him in, it’s just filthy. the saturated squelches that shortly follow afterward—so filthy.
a six letter word to perfectly describe this entire situation.
arched over for your dad’s best friend, who would have thought—not you, not in a million years.
“ . . . shit,” he pants, and you’re so wet. you moan, pawing at the fat silk sheets in front of you. so many flooded comments of your audience merely thirsting over toji, wishing desperately that they were in your position. ( . . quite literally . . )
and toji’s just so fucking big.
he’s got a lofty height of inches under his belt.
metaphorically speaking—just a single sharp thrust and you’re speechless.
the wind gets snatched out of your lungs and it’s so vigorous that your head’s spinning. this entire angle, he’s got you right where he wants you—on all fours with your ass perked up. toji can’t keep his hands to himself anyway, his hands roam all over your waist before holding both hips in place. clammy hands just about stick to your skin before he starts to create a decent pace.
a slow pace — a slow pace that turns more mean.
languidly, you feel yourself leaning to his touch as he runs a hand down your spine.
toji brings one leg up to deepen the position and not even moments later, your lips part.
“t—toji . . ah ah,” and you don’t even recognize yourself. he repositions himself for a split second, making haste with his hips before sliding his feet right past your knees. with this, it’s more stimulation and you feel it all. just the right amount of pressure, his balls sharply thwack against your ass and it makes your mind cloud up with fuzz.
“. . damn,” he groans, a hand grabbing towards the back of your university hoodie. as he leans forward, dark viridescent colored pupils stare at your rear. the way it jerks and recoils against him, everytime . . it’s the best part. even more when he spanks it, deepening his hips against your cunt to earn out a cute whine or two from you. for what seemed like the millionth time, toji kisses the right cheek of your ass with various spanks. the sting has you gnawing on your lip like it’s candy, curling your toes up with a few droplets of sweat coating the bridge of your nose. “missed this pussy, three days too fuckin’ long, brat.”
“i missed you t—.”
“girl hello? i wasn’t talking to you.”
you frown, and it follows from a snicker from him.
“. . . so dramatic,” he’d eye roll once he hears you blow out a cute sigh. “fine, i did miss you,” and that was only a half lie. you knew in actuality, he missed what’s between your legs. toji still remained sassy as usual, it never left and it’d always stay. he’s buried all into you, deep to the hilt that each time his angry reddened tip drives against that spot, you squeal out in sweet pleasure.
it didn’t take him long to locate it, your g-spot. after a while you start to feel your pussy open, spreading wide—gaping. he was so ridiculously big, it’s leaving such question marks floating over your forehead because how can someone be this thick.
with a gruff—toji groans, veins bulging through his veins as he yanks your hoodie forward into him. he’s lenient, at least for a good while. letting you have your fun, get drunk off his cock before he edges you a more . . . oh just maybe.
gojoclitoru: does anyone want the link to my only fans :(
willbang4curses: Idk who I wanna be more…
iamnotsugurugetoseriouslyiamnothim: i want your only fans @/gojoclitoru
hotpeach03: Toji please I’m a single mom
your chat continues to spate, it’s so much that as your eyes watch them all flood down the logs, you could barely read the words.
he’s so deep inside, you’re almost drooling.
the stretch—he always leaves you so full, lips all parted and that same gaping mouth opening. pant after pant, you’re heaving heavily with your chest feeling tight and warm. “so deep,” you’d shriek, and he makes your arch lower just a bit further. he’s hitting all the right spots, not missing a single area. his dick retreats as it pulls out, then back again—twitching all inside of your cunt, he lunges forward with his hips before making you plop on your chest. “. . . .ohmygodohmygoddd,” and you were so whiney, you still can’t believe such pathetic noises slither past your damp lips. engulfed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him tight, he spanks you again . . . and again, and again.
“miss me that bad, huh?” he starts to speak. his voice was a pitchy rasp. a gruff base hides underneath it and you can hear the grit lingering like he needs to clear his throat. nevertheless, you throb anyway as he’s jackhammering his cock right into your swollen cunt over, and over, and over. “that why ya keep walkin’ around with these outfits? with no fuckin’ panties underneath, yeah?”
“forgot,” you whimper, shuddering once you feel toji grow playful. he trails his thumb towards your neglected puckering hole, fiddling with it just to get a reaction out of you, and he does. “s-sorry, ‘m sorry.”
“you don’t just forget to put panties on, slut,” he groans, and he feels himself approaching soon. it’s at the tip of his tongue—he feels the burn arise in the lower parts of his thighs, veins contouring to bulge all throughout his body. “wonder what y’er old man would think. ya only pull this shit ‘cause ‘s just you ‘n me here.”
he was right.
then again—if you’d have your father here, you’d never pull a bold stunt like that.
you’d rather drop dead than save yourself the embarrassment. funny though, considering the amount of times you almost got caught.
“so . . ” you mumble, and that’s when he presses his weight right against you this time. ah, prone bone.
you were really in for it now, thickly you swallow before his weight merely hovers over your ass, really deep in you this time.
he vigorously rams his thick cock into your sweltering cunt that’s hugging him oh so tight. he’s such a tease too—using every few chances he gets to poke and gingerly rub a thumb against your pulsating hole.
sweet moans die from your throat as you’re clinging onto the bed—such force that the springs nearly collapse from the whopping amounts of weight creating sheer impact. each thrust, it rings rapidly throughout your ears before toji groans. “f—fuck,” he’d groan, ignoring your little attempts of pure bratiness. you were at your wits end, smothering your glossed lips together before you feel his rounded cockhead mash against your most forbidden spots. spots that was so deep inside the inner areas of your cunt that it makes you mewl out in pure ecstasy. “gonna make me fill you up, princess,” he huffs out, tugging even tighter on the bottom part of your cerulean blue pull over. “s—shit,” and his gruff voice pitches time and time again. for a moment, you think you can hear toji whimper. it was real subtle though, but you heard it. loud and clearly. “gonna take it like you always do?”
“yesyesyes,” you nod—words pouring out of your lips like a waterfall, kneading your fingers into your palms as you bawled up the bedsheets right into your hands. with hooded droopy eyes, you stare at the screen with a dumb expression—he then takes the opportunity to get closer, grabbing you by the hair before holding your head up in front of your thousands of viewers.
“yes what, girl.”
you whine, feeling how perfectly his dick mashed throughout your folds—so easy for him, he was so thick that the stretch was simply immaculate.
“yesss, ‘m gonna take your c-cum, toji,” you’d pant, feeling your own eyes roll backwards—you probably looked a mess in front of your own thirteen thousand viewers, but you could care less. all that your empty brain could fathom was how you were ludicrously stuffed with his hefty cock. he’s drilling into you so good that that it almost feels like a massage. rough fingers run down your spine with one hand, another holding your head by the hair like it’s a prized possession before you whimper. “fuck me, fuck me, fuh—”
toji slaps a hand over your mouth the minute he hears something from downstairs—sure enough, it had to be your father.
shit.
he must have came home early. you remember him mentioning to you he was taking a trip to the corner store after work, probably to get some booze for him and toji to enjoy for some dumb football game.
“honeyyy? you up there?”
you moan, almost feeling your eyelids grow heavy as he’s still holding your head up in front of your laptop—his reflection in the screen just pounding into you at full speed.
already, you’re coating the back of his hand with nothing but your damp saliva—such a dirty girl, preferably his dirty girl.
maybe you were a bit delusional, no. you were very delusional—maybe this could go somewhere? then. again, it was no secret on how toji’s only around to get his dick wet, a reality that you forevermore choose to ignore—until you’d soon find out how that would bite you in the ass later on.
dead silence—you’re just muffling out mewls right into his mouth, and as if on cue, toji ends up finishing inside of you. it’s so much, velvety ropes of hot nut that fill the very insides of your pussy, shooting straight into your womb that your tummy flutters. it’s so much to where it spews out of your hole, he’s gotta poke his thumb in and swipe some out with the way it continues to leak. it’s so dirty, then again—toji fushiguro was a dirty man, the dirtiest.
“are ya gonna reply ‘n let y’er old man know you’re getting off his best friend’s cock or . . ?”
his words, such a tease that he’s still slowly pumping into you. gradually but slow, he plugs into your walls—seeping with cum that oozes out of your folds and you stare at the screen with a cute cock-drunken expression. “mmph,” was your reply, the only reply you could formulate since his big hand almost covered your entire face. so you give him a concise nod, hooded eyes feeling dry from staring at the screen for so many amount of minutes.
eventually, your father leaves and returns back to what he was doing . . . phew.
“that’s right,” he whispers in a low risqué tone, bringing a kiss towards the left part of your neck.
so tender—you’re gathering the strength to sit up but you end up slumping forward. with a pathetic, ‘oof’ you land on your chest, your own climax at the very edge. it’s cute because you end up finishing around the same time—your chest feels heavy, lungs tightly collapsing and all. the perfect way to describe your orgasm was a bomb—a bomb that was ticking and ticking, preparing to detonate before it finally does. instead, the destruction was you squirting, all over toji’s dick that stuffed you full. he’s so close up to your ear, hot breath fanning against your earlobe before he continues to speak. “. . oh, y’er fuckin’ dumb right now, aren’t ya. can barely speak.” and he removes his hand to where a trail of your spit departs. so lewd, you’re spasming from your recent release before with a quick glance—you stare at your monitor. you surpassed your tip goal by a huge milestone, yet like toji said—you were too dumb to even process let alone acknowledge it.
“t—toji,” you whimper, feeling the remnants of his sweet and savory seed pour down the crevices of your thighs. it was sticky, sticking to your skin like glue, sweltering of its entirety.
“come here, princess.”
it surprised you. for once, he was being . . . soft.
you reach backwards, closing your laptop before leaning right into toji. you moan, feeling his beefy ripped arms wrap around you, bringing you right into his embrace. bulky arms go around your waist and he pulls you into a sloppily heated kiss.
simultaneously, your heart skips a few beats—a few, probably an understatement. he tastes sweet, you could make out a brief tang of liquor on his tongue—a taste you didn’t want to ever forget. as your tongue rummages against his, you moan once he gets a bit handsy, a hand going right between your legs to feel the mess he made. the mess you made yourself also.
breathy pants could be heard from your lips as you press your dampish perspiring hands all on his bare chest. he’s wearing a somewhat of a formal shirt — you tug on his collar, yearning for him to come closer, to touch you more, hold you more. something, whatever it was was just brewing up inside of the very depths, the very pits of your stomach.
toji groans, the warmth of his breath wafting against yours before he pulls you away to get a good glimpse of you. a big hand holds your waist, and his eyes peer into you for a long time before as if he hesitates—he kisses the top of your forehead, only to stare away with a scowl.
“. . . toji,” you murmur, and by this point you weren’t speaking with your brain—more so with your heart. it was apparent, especially with the way your droopy hooded eyes suddenly soften the moment you speak out the two syllables in his name.
“let me speak first.” he grouses, a thumb stringing alongside your back, gently strumming against your skin. with the way you gazed at him, making him lie back before aligning yourself, it was clear as day that you wanted more of him. he leans back, long strands of black hair run down his face with his legs sprawled before he prepares to finish.
you straddle him, sitting flat on his lap and he’s so warm—he’s a bit flustered, flaccid from his release and of course a bit sensitive. it’s quite rare to see toji in such a . . . vulnerable state. perhaps you soften him in a few ways or less. at least, that’s what you’d like to think.
it takes him a long time to formulate the words, it’s as if his tongue was tied—weird for him considering it’s toji, he’s always direct and blunt.
and yet for once, you have him speechless.
toji lets off a irritated sigh before while what seems like forever, he mutters out a gruff, “shit. i . . i think ‘m in love with you.”
“ . . . ”
#★vegasbaby.#toji smut#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#fushiguro toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#female reader#anime smut#cw sex mention
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It finally happened, Oliver finally said he thinks im in love with Fabian
#miranda talking shit#Suprised he didnt say so sooner. He always laughs and makes shifty comments when i talk about him#My reply 'no. I don't think im more in lovr with him than usual' he asked about that answer and im like ???? You heard me ???#I mean maybe i am? But from my old references on how i think and act with people im INTO its not aligning#I think its more of an.... Proud older sister or mother kind of thing i feel for him. I know i talk about him a lot and gush about him a lt#Hes special. I find him just.... Not quite pure but like... He feels like someone i want to protect. He goes to the gym like everyday and#Can definitely take care of himself but emotionally i want to protect him? He is my boy. Plus our relationship has been very diffrent from#How im used to. We can just sit in discord and quietly play our own games for hours... Bc i know he enjoys that type of comfy stuff#I dont feel i need to perform in the usual way with him and he'll take anything i say in strides. Plus we've had like two intense years of#Almost daily conversations and i usually never felt i needed to recharge my social battery.#Hes a special boy. But he doesnt align with my 'in love with' past knowledge as far as I know
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The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes
Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader
Summary:
While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.
Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.
Word Count: 8,200
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link
THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.
Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.
Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.
A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!
...
You thought it would be an easy day.
Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.
There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.
“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.
He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.
“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.
“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”
“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.
“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.
“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”
“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”
Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”
She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.
“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.
He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.
“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”
You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.
Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.
“Rings?” She questioned.
“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.
“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”
“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”
Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.
“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”
You nodded at this.
You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.
But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.
Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.
Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.
When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.
“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”
“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”
Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.
…
“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.
“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.
He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.
You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.
“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”
“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.
“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.
“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.
That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.
Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.
“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”
Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.
“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.
You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.
“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”
Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.
“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”
Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.
Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.
You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.
You were just playing the part.
Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)
He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.
“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.
“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”
“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.
“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”
“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.
“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.
Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.
“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”
He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.
“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.
He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.
Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.
“Has it been a godly union?”
He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.
“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.
“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.
Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.
It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.
But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.
“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”
“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”
“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.
He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.
…
A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.
Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.
You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.
When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.
Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.
Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.
And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.
Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.
You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.
There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.
When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.
“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.
Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.
You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.
“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.
Which ‘one’?
So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?
“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.
You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.
“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.
“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.
“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”
There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.
Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.
“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.
He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.
Spencer didn’t take the bait.
“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”
Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.
This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.
“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.
“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.
You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.
“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”
Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.
“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.
“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.
“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.
You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.
“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.
You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.
Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.
“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.
He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.
“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.
Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.
“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”
Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.
The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.
Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.
He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.
“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.
“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.
When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.
You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.
Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.
“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.
He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.
You couldn’t hold yourself back then.
You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.
He would protect you because you belonged to him.
In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.
This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.
When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.
“Thank you.” You said quietly.
It was twofold:
Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.
Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.
…
After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.
You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.
“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.
“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.
“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.
You rolled your eyes sharply at this.
You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.
(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)
“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.
“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”
Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.
“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”
“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”
Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.
“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.
You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.
His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.
And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.
“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”
You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.
This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).
But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.
Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)
“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.
You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.
Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.
And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.
When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.
“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.
“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”
His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.
Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?
Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.
“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.
“Of course.” Reid confirmed.
“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”
There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.
“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.
You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?
“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”
Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.
“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.
Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.
“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”
He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.
“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”
Of course.
You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.
“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”
Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.
You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.
Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.
You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.
…
Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.
The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.
Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.
“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”
It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.
“Yes, we do.” He nodded.
Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.
“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.
Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.
He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.
“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”
You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.
Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.
“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”
You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.
“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.
You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.
“Come on.” Christopher grunted.
Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.
…
Your plan worked flawlessly.
Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.
“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.
“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”
“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.
“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.
“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.
You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.
Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.
Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.
When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.
You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.
It was the church.
“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”
You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.
“L/N!”
Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.
“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.
He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.
“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”
“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.
You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.
“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.
Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:
“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.
He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.
“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”
You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.
He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.
Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.
“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”
His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.
“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”
You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.
It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.
And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.
You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.
Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.
“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.
Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.
On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.
When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.
Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.
A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.
...
A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.
#sundrop writes#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic
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In Another Life
Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Dean POV
Summary: When Dean wakes up in another life with you, he begins to question your friendship and realizes that he has loved you all along. But how can he change that? (I’m so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Pregnancy Fluff, Mutual Pining
Word Count: 5.5K (I have an addiction don't judge me)
Warnings: I don’t think there’s any. I’ll say mention of gore, but for one second. Maybe one allusion to sex, but not really. Some swearing (once or twice). Dean might be a little bit OOC.
Note: This is told from Dean’s perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. This is my first time writing for Supernatural, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal monologue is in italics
Main Masterlist
*********************************************
Dean couldn’t remember what happened last night only that the bed beneath him felt like an old friend welcoming him home. The night before ghosted across his mind, hovering just out of reach, memories of a dream barely forming from a fog of uncertainty. He fades in and out of sleep in a mist that soothes his aching body.
“Dean?” A soft voice whispers.
Dean groans and squeezes his pillow tighter against his chest to avoid waking up. He didn’t care what time it was, all he knew was that he didn’t want to get out of bed.
“Leave me alone Sammy.” He grumbles into the pillow.
“Dean.” The voice says again, this time with a happy laugh that sounds nothing like Sam.
His eyes open, blinded by the sunlight that streams through the large windows on the other side of the bedroom.
Wait. Where am I?
“Dean we have to get up or we’ll be late for the party.”
Dean looks towards the voice and realizes that he’s not squeezing a pillow, it’s you. You’re facing him, hair fanning out over the pillow beneath your head, eyes wide and crinkled around the edges, smiling at him.
“Y/n?” Dean says it hesitantly, arms tightening around your waist.
“No no no. Don’t look at me like that. I will not be roped into staying in bed. We can’t be late for your mom’s birthday party and you promised you would come with me to pick up the cake.”
“But-“ Dean couldn’t remember how he got here, only that something feels wrong.
“No buts.” You giggle, before leaning forward and kissing him.
Dean freezes, confused, but the soft movement of your mouth against his erases any uncertainty. He eases his face forward nudging his nose into yours to deepen the kiss. Dean doesn’t know how he got here, but all he knows is how natural it feels to be here with you. Before he can stop himself he rolls you over your back, bringing a moan from you that vibrates though his skull. His fingertips blaze a trail along your hips.
“Easy there tiger.” You smile up at him. “You don’t want to crush Zeppelin.”
Dean’s confusion makes you laugh, before he finally looks down between you. “You’re pregnant.” He whispers, noting the protrusion of your abdomen.
“I mean I think so.” You laugh in a way that makes his heart jump and buckle.
Dean lays his hand down on the smooth skin where your shirt pushes up. Why can’t I remember this? He thinks to himself confused, searching for memories he can’t recall.
“I believe we’ve talked about it several times. And it was you who decided to stay up until 4 am painting the nursery.” Your hands gently brush his hair back out of his face. “You did such a good job baby.”
Dean reaches for the memory, but he can’t seem to
grasp it. “I did?”
“Mhmm. Look at you, you’re still covered in paint.” You smile wider picking up the hand that rests on your belly to show him the splashes of cream colored paint flecked along the back of his hand. And as you do he notices the ring on your left hand.
“Are we married?” Dean tries again to grasp for his memory but comes up empty handed. He strokes his thumb along the back of yours examining the ring.
I should remember that. How could I forget that we’re married?
“Feigning amnesia will not make me stay in bed with you. No matter how cute you are.” You gently lay your hand against his chest pushing him back so you can sit up in bed.
Dean can’t help but notice how beautiful and carefree you look. Hair catching fire in the light from the window, t-shirt brushing against the top of your thighs, and how you smile at him with so much love it makes something catch in his chest.
“Dean?” You suddenly look worried. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I’m just tired I guess.”
His cell phone rings where it sits on the nightstand, drawing his gaze to the alarm clock and car magazine that sit on top of the dark wood.
“You better answer that. It’s probably Sam asking us where we are.” You kiss him on the cheek, before standing up and walking into the closet on the edge of the bedroom.
Dean watches you go, his eyes tracing your familiar figure as you leave the room, before reaching for his phone.
“Hey where are you guys? Jessica’s freaking out because you haven’t brought the cake.” Sam’s voice triggers another memory for Dean, but this one remains allusive.
“Sam?”
“Dean.”
“Um.”
“Dean are you hungover or something?”
“No. Sorry, just running a little late-“ Dean apologizes looking around the bedroom. It’s small, filled with light from the open window that shows a quaint backyard. The dresser on the wall opposite the bed has photos of him and you, photos of Sam and Jessica, and a photo of Mary and John Winchester. Dean’s eyes stop on the photo as a memory triggers at the back of his mind, but Sam interrupts the thought.
“Well come on. Dad’s not going to like it if you guys miss mom’s birthday-“
“Dad?” Deans memory spikes again and he sees his father sitting in the drivers seat humming along to a song on the radio. Another memory flashes, Dean and his father standing behind the impala with Sam looking into the trunk.
“Yes dad. Your boss. Our father. Dean are you okay? Y/n said that you were painting the nursery last night all by yourself. You could have told me. I would have come over to help-“
“I’m alright Sammy.”
But he doesn’t feel alright, something is definitely wrong.
“Okay well hurry up. I’ll see you when you get here.”
Dean hangs up the phone and sits on the end of the bed with it in his hand.
You walk back into the room wearing a green sundress. Your hair is soft again, falling over your shoulders in a way that makes Dean’s breath catch, effortlessly beautiful.
A memory of you wearing jeans and a leather jacket washes across his mind of you standing with him at the back of the Impala reaching in for a shotgun while he knocks your hand away.
“Dean?” You walk towards him, this time standing between his legs. You place your hands on his shoulders and he can’t help but turn to look at the wedding ring. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because if you’re not feeling well we don’t have to go today. I can call your dad. But I just thought your really wanted to go. You hate missing your mother’s birthday. It’s usually you that drags me out of bed.” You trail your hand against the side of his face with a worried expression, to turn his gaze back on you.
Someone deep in the back of his mind the expression triggers something and he sees a memory of you. Except you’re holding a machete in your right hand that drips blood on the floor but, the look of worry in your eyes the same.
Where could that be from?
“I don’t know.”
“Hey.” You whisper, sitting down in his lap and his arms can’t help but secure you there, burying his head in your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’m scared too.”
“What?” Dean raises his head from your shoulder
“We’ve talked about this. You’re going to be a great dad. And honestly we probably won’t know what we’re doing, but that’s how everyone starts.” Your fingertips drag through his hair in a soothing motion.
Dean tries again to grasp at earlier memories of this life, early memories of you, but all he sees are motel rooms. Motel rooms where you sleep on a pullout couch in a corner and where Sam sits at a small table shuffling through endless books and papers.
Why?
Dean can’t understand, because that life seems so different than this one. This one where you look softer and happier, where you share a bed and are married. He thinks about the other memories, where your smile is not as bright, where there’s a hardness to your face, but still just as beautiful. Another memory of him and you sitting in a bar drinking beer, another of you laughing at something he said and hitting him, and finally one of you reading in bed while Dean sits at a motel table and watches you softly turn the pages.
Deep down Dean knows in his bones that in those memories you and him are just friends, but he allows himself to indulge in your touch, enjoying the comfort that comes with being with you.
“It’s not about the baby.” Dean sighs. “I just can’t remember how we got here.”
“Here?”
“Married.” His arms tighten around your waist not wanting to let go. You’re the only thing he recognizes in all of this.
“Um well, my car broke down and I brought it to a mechanic shop where I met a devilishly handsome man with green eyes.” You smile at him. “Who refused to let me leave until he bought me dinner.”
Dean stares at you.
“Practically kidnapped me. But you were so charming I couldn’t resist.” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Not to mention sexy covered in grease and wearing a meatloaf t-shirt.” You kiss him before he can respond, and he loses himself in you. The way you hold him close, the way your fingers work up into his hair to secure him right where he wants to be, and the way you feel in his arms wipes away any uncertainty. “As much as I’d like to go back to bed with you, we’re going to be late.” You whisper against his lips.
And Dean allows himself to be dragged away.
*********************************************
“Did you remember to order the parts for that ‘76 Camaro right?” John Winchester asks Dean, but Dean’s not focused, he can’t focus on anything.
The drive over to his parents house was different. Instead of sitting on the opposite side of the front seat of the impala, you had sat in the middle, holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder, humming softly.
It made driving for Dean especially difficult. The memories of you in his car that came across his mind while he drove distracted him.
You in the backseat shouting something at Dean while he completely ignored you rolling his eyes, you sitting in the front seat with a map trying to direct him while Sam slept in the back, you singing to “The Eye of the Tiger” with him while Sam tried to close his ears, and finally you asleep in the front seat with Dean’s jacket draped over you. That last one stayed in his mind. He liked how you looked wrapped up in his jacket, breath fogging the glass window, while Dean tried his best to drive smooth and slow so you wouldn't wake.
But you in the front seat holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder while humming along to the music blew all of those memories out of the water. All Dean wanted to do was exist there and then.
When you both arrived at his parents home Dean tried not to be disappointed. Now he was too distracted watching you talk and laugh with Jessica and his mother across the room to listen to anything his father said.
“Dean are you listening?” His dad tries again.
“Huh?” The cold beer in Dean’s hand drips condensation against his skin. He turns to look back at his father.
Another memory of him momentarily distracts Dean, this one of John leaving Dean and Sam in a motel room so he can go hunting.
Did we ever go hunting? Dean tries to think of a time where they went out into the woods to shoot some deer, but comes up empty handed. A few memories of him and Sam toting guns rise to the surface, but he can't remember why they had them.
"You'll have to excuse Dean, he's still mentally painting the nursery." Sam snorts into his beer.
"Shut up."
"Don't tease him Sam. I'm sure that Jessica will have you turn your office into a nursery before you know it." You appear on Dean's left, raising his arm around you so you can lean into his side. Dean automatically tightens his arm around your shoulders.
"Don't joke about that y/n."
"Uh-huh. You can't hide in that big fancy law firm forever. She'll find you." You smile up at Dean in a way that makes his heart feel like its stopped beating.
Why can't I remember any of this life?
"She's right." Jessica comes over to kiss Sam on the cheek.
"I do not hide at the firm-" Sam rolls his eyes.
"You do."
Mary Winchester comes over. "Are you fighting at my birthday party?"
Dean's father puts his arm around his mother, pulling her into his chest with a smile he hides by taking a swig of beer.
"No mom, we're not-"
"Sounded like a fight to me." You whisper to Dean, and he can't help but smile at you.
"It's not a fight y/n!"
"Don't yell at my wife Sammy." Dean says before he can stop himself. He thinks about how natural it sounded coming out of his mouth.
His wife. You're his wife. He thinks and presses a kiss to the top of your head that makes you sigh into his chest.
"I'm not yelling at y/n."
"Sam we're just teasing you." Jessica laughs, placing her hand against his chest. Dean notices the ring on her own finger, and a memory of Jessica rises in the back of his head. Jessica standing in the darkness of an apartment, while Dean holds on to the front of Sam's shirt, her eyes wide and confused.
But it vanishes when you wince in his arms. Dean's eyes are drawn back down to you, worry spiking in his chest.
"I'm okay." You whisper. "Just think Zeppelin is hitting his limit."
"You guys go on home. I think that John has grilled Dean about the garage enough." Mary smiles, before taking a step forward to hug you. Dean is disappointed when you leave his arms, but smiles despite, watching you with his mother.
"Let the little linebacker get some rest." John hugs you.
"Of course. Thank you so much for letting us come. I'm sorry we were late." Dean watches the subtle blush of your cheeks as you apologize.
"I'm sure it's my son's fault." Mary moves to hug Dean.
As soon as she does Dean is overwhelmed by a surge of sadness as another memory of his mother rises in the back of his mind that he can't quite bring into focus.
"Mom?" Dean whispers.
"Hmm?" She looks up at him confused. "We'll see you on Tuesday for dinner. Okay?"
"Okay."
"We love you."
"I love you too mom." But something sticks in his chest when he says it.
“Don’t forget to order the parts.” John says shaking Dean’s hand.
“Sure.”
“Bye Jessica. Let me know if you need us to bring anything for Tuesday.” Dean watches you hug her and just for a moment Dean sees Sam holding a bouquet of flowers at a gravesite.
What is happening?
*********************************************
When Dean pulls the Impala into the driveway of your home something still feels wrong. After saying goodbye to everyone he still can’t shake the feeling that he forgot something. The radio plays "Black Dog" filling the silence as the car idles in front of the house.
“Dean!”
“What?” He turns to look at where you sit beside him in the front seat.
“Feel.” You grab one of his hands from the wheel and place it against your abdomen an excited smile gracing your cheeks. “Little future drummer."
The kicking against the palm of his hand makes Dean smile, leaning forward into where you sit beside him. Happiness breaks in his chest like the crest of a wave. He can't remember a moment in his life where he felt this happy, this much love for someone.
"Y/n?"
"Mhmm."
"I love you." Dean refuses to believe that he has said it to anyone else ever in his life, can't remember wanting to say it to anyone else, can't believe that he will ever want to say it to anyone else.
"I love you too."
He leans down to kiss you, hand still against your stomach, drawing you further into him to breathe you in. Everything else vanishes, just the feel of your soft lips against his, the tickle of your hair against his cheeks, and the pulse of his son's kicks against the palm of his hand.
But then it's all gone.
*********************************************
"Dean!" Sam's voice jars him into reality, his eyes opening to see his brother standing over him, one hand on his shoulder. "Dean are you okay?"
"What happened?" Dean sits up with a groan, ignoring the headache that throbs behind his eyes.
His eyes adjust to the dim light. He's in a long room where wooden tables sit every few feet covered in dust and machinery blanketed with old sheets. The musty smell fills his nose, replacing the smell of your shampoo that lingers under his nose from when you were in the front seat with him.
"Djinn ambushed you. Y/n and I got here as soon as we could."
"Y/n?" The memories of the dream strike him in the chest all over again, merging with memories of reality. "Where is Y/n?"
You enter the room out of breath, blood flecked across your cheeks and holding a baseball bat that drips a dark liquid onto the concrete floor. “It’s dead.”
"You sure?" Sam asks raising an eyebrow.
"There's enough brain matter on the floor in there for a zombie buffet." You shoulder the baseball bat. "So yeah, it's dead."
Dean’s eyes trace your body taking in the leather jacket and dark t-shirt his memory flashing to the green sundress and beautiful smile. You’re half-smiling, but Dean can see the hardness in your face again and understands where it comes from.
She wasn’t a hunter. He thinks of the dream version of you, where your hair fell in soft curls, but now it’s tied back in a ponytail. His eyes drop to your abdomen expecting more, but disappointment flicks in his heart. It wasn’t real.
“Dean are you okay?” You step closer to him. The smile has dropped now, replaced with a worried expression.
He flashes back to when you asked him that in the dream, when you sat on his lap and tangled your hands in his hair, sighing into his mouth as he kissed you.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
He traces your face again but every time he does he only sees the other version of you, the version that’s in love with him, married to him. And he knows that here you are just his friend.
“Yeah.” He says again standing up. “Let’s get out of here.”
The ride back to the motel is silent. Dean doesn’t put on any music, too afraid that it’ll remind him of the memory of you and him in the front seat while his son kicked against his hand. Instead, all he can think of was how happy he was in the other life, how in love with you he was-
Dean knew that it wasn’t just a fantasy, that he really is in love with you, but now after seeing how everything could be, it weighed on his chest. Each time you looked at him he wanted to pull you close to him, hug you, kiss you, but he knew you would pull away. Because this version of you was not his.
“I’m going to go to that diner on the corner. You guys want something?” Sam looks around the room expectantly, but Dean doesn’t look up from the carpet.
“Sure.” Dean hears you respond. “Maybe just a burger and a piece of pie. Preferably apple but I'll take cherry if they have it."
“Okay. Dean?” Sam asks again.
Dean shakes his head. He can’t eat. Not now.
Sam hesitates at the door worried. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t want anything.” Dean snaps.
“Yeesh don’t bite my head off.” Sam throws you a shrug before leaving.
Dean is aware that it’s just the two of you now, the memory of the two of you in bed surfaces making him tighten his grip on the edge of the blanket beneath him.
“Dean?” You whisper.
“What?” His voice comes out harsher than he means it to.
“What’s wrong? You can tell me.”
“Nothing is wrong.” But he can’t look at you, not when he knows he'll look up and you won't be pregnant and not when the other version of you still has a hold of his heart.
“Dean you’re my best friend I know when something’s wrong. Plus you haven’t been able to look at me since you woke up and you never say no to food.”
“I’m fine.”
“Dean-“
“Just leave me alone damnit!” He snaps at you, able to raise his gaze from the floor for one second. Dean immediately feels bad, watching the pain in your eyes as he pushes you away. But he lowers his eyes to the carpet once more to avoid your gaze.
You sigh, but don’t get angry with him. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine. I'll just leave you alone then.”
And as soon as you leave to take a shower he feels the loss of you beside him.
He listens to the sound of the shower, feels the passing of time, but he does not move. The memories of the dream rise and fall, replacing the darkness of the hotel room with brilliant light. The memory of the sun catching your hair on fire as you laid next to him in bed tracing your fingertips along his jaw, the memory of you in the front seat of the Impala leaning against him and humming while you hold his hand, the memory of the party where he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you tightly into his chest, and finally the memory of the last kiss you shared in the front seat of the Impala each dance across his mind. He acutely feels the loss of your body against his, the loss of your lips, and finally the sound of your voice telling him you love him while his son kicked against his hand.
“Dean?”
He looks up at you. You look softer than you did. The blood is gone from your cheeks, your hair falls over your shoulders still wet from the shower, effortlessly beautiful, he decides. You’re wearing one of his old t-shirts that he gave you and a pair of sweatpants. It does something to him, watching you stand there in his shirt. It hangs past your waist like a dress, making you look smaller than you are. The smell of your shampoo wafts out of the bathroom, something familiar that makes his throat tight.
“You know when that Djinn got me a few months ago it threw me for a loop too.” You say softly leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. “Everything felt so real. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t.”
Dean remembers when that happened. When you vanished out of the blue while checking out a case alone and he and Sam tore apart the small town looking for you. Dean remembers how worried he was, how desperate he was to find you.
I loved her then too. Dean realizes looking at you. How did I not know?
Dean remembers the aftermath, when you woke up and wouldn’t look at him. How your gaze was almost haunted and how he had to carry you out of there because you couldn’t move. He remembers you laying in bed and turning away from him and Sam when they had asked you what was wrong and the following day when you acted like nothing happened.
“What did it make you see?” Dean whispers, noting the way you shift back and forth on your feet. He hadn't seen you nervous before, seen you face down demons and vampires without batting an eye, but now you looked vulnerable.
You look down at your feet. “If I say it you can’t laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“Dean, I’m serious.”
“I promise I won’t laugh.” He watches the tension in your shoulders.
Why would she be afraid to tell me? We talk about everything.
“It was us.”
“What?” Shock tugs at his heart and for a second he thinks that he heard you wrong.
“It was us. We were married. We had 2 kids. My brother was still alive and my parents were talking to me again. I was happy there. It was hard to come back. Not that I’m not happy, but just that it’s hard to think you’ve lived a life that doesn’t exist. Especially one so different than all of this.” Dean watches you take in a deep breath, tapping your finger against your bicep, avoiding his eyes. “That was when I realized I was in love with you.”
Dean’s heart stops beating. “What did you just say-“
You look up and smile tightly. “It’s when I realized I was in love with you. That’s why I was so messed up. I didn't know how to-“
Sam chooses that exact moment to walk in loaded with bags of food. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing much.” Dean watches you easily shift your expression to hide what just happened, smiling at Sam as if you hadn’t said the one thing that Dean had been trying to say to you since he woke up. “Just trying to convince Dean to let me work on Baby. I think I’m wearing him down.”
Dean had never realized how much of a good liar you were until this moment, sure he had seen you pretend to be a government agent, but this was different.
“Like that’ll happen.” Sam hands you a bag of food before turning to look at Dean. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Dean watches you pull out the burger, stunned by your confession.
You place the burger next to him on the bed. “Eat this. It’ll help.”
“But-“ He looks up at you, wanting to finish the conversation.
“I promise I’m not that hungry Dean. I’d rather have the pie. Unless you’re going to fight me for it?” You smile raising an eyebrow.
Dean doesn’t understand why you’re acting like you didn’t just say you were in love with him. He gazes at you, searching your face. For a second he sees the mask slip, but before he can comment it’s gone.
“No I won’t.” He whispers.
“Good.” You turn to the made-up pull out couch and fold your legs underneath you with the slice of pie balanced on your knee, before reaching into your bag for a worn paper back.
Dean sits there watching you turn the pages. She loves me. The memory of you in his dream in the front seat of the Impala whispering it to him doesn’t hold the same weight because now all he can hear is you saying it here, now.
Dean can’t move. He wished Sam would leave again. He wished Sam would leave so he could bring you into his chest and kiss you, so he could tell you the one thing he wished he said ages ago.
But he doesn't. All he does is sit there and watch you read.
*********************************************
A few hours after Sam and you have fallen asleep Dean lays in his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He can hear your soft breaths against the pillow, the crinkle of the sheets as you move in your sleep. Usually he allowed himself to fall asleep listening to you, but tonight all it did was keep him awake. Each time he shut his eyes he saw the memory of you in bed with him burning against his eyelids and each time he shut his eyes he heard the real you telling him that you loved him.
Finally, he can't take it anymore.
Dean gets up and makes his way over to the pull-out couch, pausing once to move the paperback book out from under your head. It wasn't the first time that you'd fallen asleep reading, and Dean thought it was cute.
He slides into the bed behind you, gently touching your shoulder to wake you as quietly as possible.
"Hmm." You inhale softly.
"Y/n." Dean whispers.
He watches you turn towards him, eyes blinking in the darkness to rouse yourself from sleep. You hair is flared out over the pillows, eyes hazy. “Dean what are you-“
Dean moves his arm to your waist before pulling you flush into his chest, lips finding yours. The memories of the kiss in his dream are everywhere, but none of them compare to this. You sigh into his mouth, bringing your hands into his hair. Dean breathes you in. You still taste like apple pie, body soft against his, lips smooth and welcoming.
“I love you too.” He whispers against your mouth, eyes finding yours in the darkness of the hotel room.
Your smile breaks him. “It made you see us didn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“The way you looked when you came out. The way you looked at me. I think it’s the same way I looked at you when I woke up." You brush back his hair and Dean can't help but lean forward into your touch. "What did it make you see?"
“We were married. You were pregnant and I was working at a garage. My parents were alive. Jessica was alive-“
“Oh Dean.” You cup his cheeks with a sorrowful expression, before brushing your lips against his. “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” Dean brings you into his chest, laying on his back so you can rest your head on his heart. His hand slowly traces up and down your spine. You both lie there for a few moments. The subtle beat of your heart soothing the sadness that rises with the memory of his mother and father. Your hand gently rests against his shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric.
“I missed you.” He hears you whisper into his chest.
“What?” Dean doesn't understand. "Where did I go?"
“Not like that. I know that it sounds stupid, but we were so happy in the dream. It made me miss you, miss this.” He feels you rub your face into the front of his shirt.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Dean you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose any of this.” You prop yourself up look him in the eye. “I’m happy here with you and Sam. Y’all are my family and I didn’t want to jeopardize that just because I’m in love with you.”
“Did you think I would have made you leave if you told me that?” Dean can’t help but feel hurt. Sure it would have been awkward for a little bit, but I’d never do that to y/n.
“Not made me leave, more phase me out. It would have made all of this awkward and-“ He watches the weight settle on your shoulders as you press your forehead into the space between his collar bone and neck. “I’ve lost so many things. I didn’t want to lose you.”
Dean squeezes you to him. “You’re not going to lose me sweetheart.” He traces a fingertip under your chin to raise your face to his. “I love you. And even if I didn’t, you’re my family too. I wouldn’t make you leave just because it was a little awkward. We’ve all been through too much together for that.” Dean’s thumb rubs soft circles against your cheek.
“I love you too.” You whisper, the soft smile gracing your lips mirrors the memory from the dream, but this time it fills him with warmth and comfort, because this time he knows it’s real. It's not some Djinn messing with his head, it's you. You lean upwards to kiss him gently, while Dean weaves his hand through you hair to secure you to him.
But then you pull away, your smile slipping into a smirk. “So when you say family, are you saying you see me as a sister or a cousin? Because, I don’t know how things are in Kansas, but where I'm from, that's kind of a red flag.“
Dean sighs loudly. Before he rolls you over and pins you to the bed, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.
“Oh. So as a sister-“ You joke.
“You are one of the most annoying people on the planet.”
“I know. It’s why you love me.” You trace his lips with your index finger, gazing up at him the same way the dream version of you did.
Dean feels warmth trail behind your touch. “One of the reasons at least.”
But just as he leans to kiss you again-
“If you guys don’t shut up I’m not going to get any sleep.” Sam grumbles from his bed. “I could have told you two idiots, that you loved one another and it would have taken five seconds.”
“You don’t have to eavesdrop-“ You say glaring over in the direction of Sam’s bed.
“Kinda hard not to when you guys are making out. LOUDLY. I might add.”
“Gonna have to get used to it Sammy.” Dean snorts, before pushing your hair back behind your ear and drawing your gaze back to his face.
“Next time you guys are getting your own room.” Sam continues. “That way I can get some sleep.”
“Doesn’t seem very economical.” You say, but you’re gazing up at Dean again with the smile that makes him feel like he’d swallowed the sun. “I love you.” Your voice is barely a whisper.
“I love you too.” Dean leans down once more to capture your lips against his, erasing all semblance of everything else, except the feel of your body beneath him and the warmth that surges with each breath as the dream of you becomes a reality.
*********************************************
Thank you so much for reading!
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester fic#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester#supernatural#spn#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fluff#spn fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#dean x reader#sam winchester
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👛🖤SELF-CONCEPT👛🖤
CONTENTS OF THE POST
- MEANING OF SELF CONCEPT
- IS IT NECESSARY TO MANIFEST ?
- HOW TO IMPROVE IT ?
- SELF CONCEPT AFFIRMATIONS
- QUOTES ON SELF CONCEPT BY NEVILLE GODDARD
👛MEANING OF SELF CONCEPT
The way we perceive ourselves and the
ideas we hold about our competencies and
attributes is called self-concept. ( This definition is from my psychology textbook but it described self concept really well )
🖤IS IT NECESSARY TO MANIFEST ?
Self concept is not necessary when it comes to manifesting but it is very helpful and it does make manifesting more simple and easy.
👛HOW TO IMPROVE IT ?
💞Affirm !! Affirm and saturate your mind with those affirmations. The best way to reprogram your subconscious is through REPETITION. The more you repeat a thought / affirmation , the more dominant it will become.
👡Never underestimate the power of music. If you go on a spotify , just search self concept or confidence or that girl playlist & you will find so many songs which are filled with powerful and positive affirmations. Artists like Nicki Minaj , Le sserafim , Ariana Grande always include powerful affirmations in their songs. Listening to their songs enhanced my self concept.
💞Find a role model! Refer to my post on self concept icons , there are three parts in total . Click here - 1, 2 , 3. Suppose you want a self concept like Blair Waldorf , you can use her effect affirmations and a playlist dedicated to Blair and her vibes. Or maybe your self concept icon is Song Jia ? Then use affirmations based on her and listen to playlists dedicated to her. I have made affirmations for Jia too !! Your self concept icon can be anyone !!!! If you go on spotify and just search Blair , Regina, Song Jia or Thewizardliz etc you will find alot of playlists dedicated to them.
👡Create an alter ego and start acting like her . YOU ARE HER NOW !!! STOP IDENTIFYING WITH YOUR OLD SELF WHO HAD POOR SELFCONCEPT. THAT VERSION DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE.
💞Already assume that you have a perfect self concept . Don't give the old story any attention or don't waste your energy on your old self. Stop affirming how you have a " bad " self concept and need to work on it. Just assume that you have a perfect self concept already.
👡Mental diet can do wonders. Whenever you have a thought that doesn't align with your perfect self concept. Ask yourself , "Does this thought align with my perfect self concept?" . If the answer is no , then reject it. Become aware of your thoughts and only entertain productive and useful thoughts. Have a positive SELF TALK
💞Realize how powerful you are. You control your reality. You tell your reality/ 3D what to do. Your circumstances , 3D or reality doesn't control you, you control them. Your inner world creates the outer world. Stop victimizing yourself. You are the main character and director of your life. Start acting like it.
Self concept work is supposed to be easy and fun . Don't complicate it.
🖤SELF CONCEPT AFFIRMATIONS
I have a strong and empowering self concept .
I am the creator of my reality
I control how my life unfolds
Everything always works out to my advantage
Circumstances and things are always rigged in my favor
I deserve the best in every area of my life
I am the girl who has it all
I am the It girl of my reality
Nothing is impossible in my world
I am good at everything
I am a master manifestor
I am the best
I am loved and valued
I am wanted by everyone
I am the prize
The world is my oyster
I am successful at everything I do
I have Lucky girl/ boy syndrome
I am the universe’s favorite child, so all my needs and wants are always met, instantaneously
I am powerful beyond limits
I am fearless, unstoppable , invincible and antifragile
I am the one with all the health, wealth, and happiness in the world.
I have a perfect self concept
I can maintain a good mental diet easily.
I am aware of my thoughts
I only think useful and productive thoughts
I am completely in love with myself
I always get what I want
I don't chase , i attract
I am a priority , queen / king , and chosen.
👛QUOTES ON SELF CONCEPT BY NEVILLE GODDARD
"Your opinion of yourself is your most important viewpoint. You are infinitely greater than you think you are.”
“Change your conception of yourself and you will automatically change the world in which you live. Do not try to change people; they are only messengers telling you who you are. Revalue yourself and they will confirm the change.”
“Stop trying to change the world since it is only the mirror. Man’s attempt to change the world by force is as fruitless as breaking a mirror in the hope of changing his face. Leave the mirror and change your face. Leave the world alone and change your conceptions of yourself. The reflection then will be satisfactory.”
“To reach a higher level of being, you must assume a higher concept of yourself."
“I AM wealthy, poor, healthy, sick, free, confined were first of all impressions or conditions felt before they became visible expressions. Your world is your consciousness objectified. Waste no time trying to change the outside; change the within or the impression; and the without or expression will take care of itself. When the truth of this statement dawns upon you, you will know that you have found the lost word or the key to every door. I AM (your consciousness) is the magical lost word which was made flesh in the likeness of that which you are conscious of being.”
"Everything depends upon our attitude towards ourselves. That which we will not affirm as true of ourselves cannot develop in our life.”
"Our present mental conversations do not recede into the past, they advance into the future to confront us as wasted or invested words.”
"The individual’s inner speech and actions attract the conditions of his life.”
“Nothing is impossible to you.”
“Live your life in a sublime spirit of confidence and determination.”
“The world cannot change until you change your conception of it. 'As within so without'.”
"" The part you play on the world's stage is determined by your conception of yourself ."
#affirmations#self concept#law of assumption#neville goddard#loa#master manifestor#it girl#self concept affirmations#affirm and persist#assume and persist#self concept icons#it girl mentality#manifesting tips#how to manifest#edward art#sammy ingram#subliminals#loassumption#living in the end#subconscious#manifest#hyler#kim velez#imagination#song jia#wonyoungism#affirm#affirmdaily#manifest your dreams#law of manifestation
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heyy i was wondering if u could write a max, daniel, or carlos x super southern (like from the DEEP south/not texas) dallas cowboys cheerleader (kleine powell fc plz shes so gorg) smau and everyone is surprised that theyre together. or alternatively same premise but with an lsu tiger girl (fc darah haidet) and shes a lot younger. us southern girls get no rep lmao and ily
Unexpected. (DR)
hi! thank you sm for the request. i absolutely love this sm!! i went with daniel for this one, he’s too cute. i genuinely never see any southern girl stuff, so i hope you love this! and ily too!!also, y/n is a dcc, but she’s from louisiana. i never mention a state tho so you can imagine a diff one!!
pairing: daniel ricciardo x dcc!reader
fc: kleine powell
warnings: none!
note: i went ahead and made this not a soft launch (im limited with photos lol) also age gap is 8 yrs in this one!
masterlist here -> masterlist link
^ check my list for all posts! ^
liked by: y/n.user, pierregasly, and 1,872,055 others
tagged: y/n.user
danielricciardo: hiked a bit, and picked up this pretty lady along the way
view comments…
landonorris: you have a girlfriend? i never thought i’d see the day
|> danielricciardo: you’re talking??
y/n.fp: is that our girl?? our cowgirl is dating a man that makes cars go vroom!?!?
|> f1.fp: when worlds collide
y/n.user: wouldnt have wanted to hike those 12 miles with anyone else :)
|> danielricciardo: :)))
dcc.fans: does this mean daniel is gonna come to games?
charles_leclerc: is she converting you full cowboy?
|> y/n.user: of course i am🙃🤠
yourbsf: awwww, you guys are so cute. pls let me meet him
|> y/n.user: soon, honey🫣
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liked by: danielricciardo, francisca.cgomes, and 862,274 others
tagged: danielricciardo
y/n.user: who’s going to tell him that these are not the dcc colors….💙🤍
view comments…
fanpage.dcc: UNEXPECTED RELATIONSHIP
|> y/n.fanpage: LOVE IT THO??
danielricciardo: sugar, it’s texas’ colors…..
|> y/n.user: i’m not from texas daniel, we’ve been over this😐
|> danielricciardo: let me grab my blue and white before the game
|> y/n.user: thank you, hun☺️
pierregasly: have fun with his annoying ass
|> danielricciardo: HEY. she loves my ass, thank you very much
|> y/n.user: 😇
formula1fp: this was not on my bingo card for this year. i’m not mad about it tho
_______________________________________________
twitter:
Formula 1 Wag News @formulaonewags • 2d
New Wag: Y/N Y/L/N has been posted by Daniel Ricciardo recently, saying that he “picked up this pretty lady” referring to Y/N. She is a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, at 26 years old. They have yet to officially announce their relationship, but with both posting, daniel going to games, and not denying their friends, we have strong reasons to believe they are dating.
|
DCC Updates @dccupdates • 2d
We think thet have been seeing each other or talking for a while. Y/N has stayed away from guys at parties (via her friends posts) and Daniel has been posting a lot at home. Maybe this has been going on for a while?
_______________________________________________
liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 2,109,240 others
tagged: y/n.user
danielricciardo: first date, kinda nervous. do you guys think she likes me? 🙁
view comments…
y/n.user: i do i do i do🫠🫶
|> danielricciardo: i like you too🤭🫶
dallascc.updates: pls pls this is way too cute but i’m shook
|> f1updatepage: aren’t we all?
georgerussell63: theres no way you’re dating a dcc-
|> carmenmmundt: they’re so cute!!
|> georgerussell63: yeah, but how?
|> danielricciardo: im very charming
yourbsf: actually adorable asf. i’m soso glad you’re both so happy together :’)
|> y/n.user: thank you, babes🙁🫶
maxverstappen1: i hope you guys had a good date!
|> danielricciardo: we did ☺️
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liked by: y/n.user, oscarpiastri, and 1,982,140 others
danielricciardo: another hike, another race sunday
view comments…
y/n.user: you’re gonna do so amazing ☺️
|> danielricciardo: wear my cowboy hat?
|> y/n.user: i’ll be there with the hat and boots on 🤠
|> danielricciardo: 😊
f1.wag: new y/n content? yes plsssss
carlossainz55: i’m still confused on how you got a girlfriend
|> maxverstappen1: we’re all confused
dcc.posts: our favorite hikers 🥾
y/nfanpage: i livveeee for them
_______________________________________________
liked by: landonorris, danielricciardo, and 1,027,174 others
tagged: danielricciardo, landonorris
y/n.user: p2 for daniel = proudest gf today. although i would be proud no matter what. thank you for being such a sweet, funny, supportive, and entertaining bf. i am not thanking you for bringing lando on the same plane, jk
view comments…
landonorris: those tension headache pills didn’t help?
|> y/n.user: nope
|> landonorris: oops 🫣
f1.updates: trio we needed
danielricciardo: my favorite cowgirl❤️
|> y/n.user: my favorite cowboy❤️
|> wagsof.f1: i’m actually so lonely i’m sobbing
formula1.page: you😭 guys😭 are😭 adorable😭
lilymhe: cutestttt
|> y/n.user: you’re too sweet💓
|> lilymhe: 💓💓
y/n.fp: i am never getting over this relationship. f1!driver and southern cheerleader? k. my life is complete
yourbsf: MY PARENTS
|> danielricciardo: oh dearie
|> y/n.user: 😳
_______________________________________________
(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)
#f1#formula 1#formula one#daniel ricciardo x female reader#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel riccardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x ofc#southern fic
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Could I request kenma x male reader omegaverse where kenma has a huge crush on reader but doesn't know what to do with it?
Warnings: references to meeting someone on the internet and getting kidnapped/molested.
Omegan Stranger
Kenma Kozume x male reader
"Kenma!! You've gotta meet my friend (Name)! I feel like you guys would like each other!" Hinata jumped onto Kenma, almost latching onto him as a baby koala.
Kenma sighed and tried shaking Hinata off, "Hinata, for the last time please stop coming up behind me, like that you are going to give me a heart attack".
"But! He also likes video games!"
Kenma just stared at Hinata, giving a look, "So you think just because we both like video games, we would like each other? Pass".
"Hey, what are you two gossiping about?". Kurro walked up towards the duo.
"Oh hey, Kurro! I was just telling Kenma about my friend that he would like!"
"Oh is that so~ well you should give up, Kenma's alpha is like non-existent. Speaking of which, are you sure you're an alpha? You know, I've heard of school testing coming out wrong".
"Can both of you quiet down? I'm trying to finish this game before the match starts... also I'm kinda already 'talking' to someone.." Kenma rolled their eyes and focus on his phone.
"WHAT?!"
...
The three walked towards a corner store, "come on Kenma, can you give us a little details about them?"
"No".
Kurro sighed, "Okay... how about where y'all met?".
"On LOL".
Hinata and Kurro, gave eachother a look. "Okay listen buddy, I'm sorry to say but the person might be an 40 old man".
"No they arent".
"Okay! But how do you know! It's a stranger!" Hinata yelled.
"Keep it down please, we are supposed to meet up today at the Internet Café".
Kurro put a hand on Kenma's shoulder, "As your best friend-"
"You're not my best friend"
"Shush, again, as your best friend, I and Hinata will come with you to make sure you don't get molested or kidnapped by a stranger on the internet".
...
Kurro snickered, "Are you really wearing your volleyball uniform to this "date"".
"Yeah because I told them that I will be wearing a red sweatsuit"
"Okay but what are they wearing?"
Kenma looked at his phone, "He said a yellow turtle neck".
Kurro whisled, "Oh so it's a guy?".
"Yeah... is that a problem?".
"Oh no! I'm an ally!"
Kenma gave Kurro a look, "Shut up, we are here".
Hinata looked through the window, "OMG ITS (NAME), I'LL BE RIGHT BACK".
Hinata ran inside, "Jesus what's his problem, right Kenma? Kenma?".
Kenma just stared at the duo through the window, his breath hitch.
'This scent... it reeks'
"Kenma... hello?" Kurro kept shaking his hands in front of the blonde, trying to get him out of his trance.
"Sorry I can't do this". Kenma started walking away from the café.
Kurro looked af Kenma in shock, "HEY BRO WHERE YOU GOING?!".
Hinata and (Name) came out of the café, "(Name)! These are my friends! Kurro and Kenma! Wait were did Kenma go?"
"Um.. I don't know? He kinda just walked away".
"It's okay Hinata, I'm just waiting on a friend to show up, which could be any minute now".
Kurro gave Hinata an awkward look, "Listen, why don't we keep you company untill your friend arrives? So it's safer!"
"Um..." (Name) looked at their phone, "sure that's okay".
...
[11:43 p.m.]
Kenma just stared at his PC screen, debating whether or not to turn it on. 'If I go online, my online statues would be seen and if they are on, they'll wonder why I didn't show up today'.
'Fuck it. I am not wasting my daily rewards on some man' .
As soon as Kenma launched the game, he saw that his inbox had three missed messages.
Hey! I'm at the café! Let me know when you are here! :)
Hey, I don't mean to be a bother but are you coming? My friend came by and is keeping me company until then.
Hey, is everything okay?
Okay, I'm going to go. Sorry things didn't go as planned. Maybe next time? :)
Kenma stared at the messages and sighed, 'God, I'm such a dick'.
[Ding]
Kenma looked and saw that he was invited to an private in game chat.
'Time to face my consequencess'
"Hey, sorry that I didn't show up. Something came up".
"Oh, it's okay! I wasn't alone but we should really try meeting up again next time".
"Yeah. Next time.".
"Yeah.... I was thinking at the in person tournament? It's this Saturday! There is a grand prize too!".
"Yeah, we can try Saturday. Are you thinking about teaming up?".
"Yeah! Of course!".
"Good. Let's do a practice round".
"Ready when you are!".
...
"So why did you leave yesterday?"
Kenma stared at Kurro, "something came up".
"Bullshit". Kurro crossed his arms, giving a judgemental mother look towards Kenma.
Kenma sighed, throwing the volleyball towards the wall, "I don't know, I just kinda froze".
"You froze?"
"Yeah..."
Kurro scoffed, "for an alpha that was adopted by two omegan parents. You sure are skittish around them".
Kenma dropped the ball, "wait, they are an omegan?"
"Duh".
Kenma looked at his chest, 'Is that why you were acting up yesterday'.
"Well if it makes you feel better, we are going to retry Saturday"
"Way to go buddy!" Kurro put Kenma in a head lock, " I knew you could get bitches!".
Kenam growled, "LET ME GO".
"Woah woah, easy there baby alpha. Oh my God look at my baby, he is already growling".
"Please shut up Kurro!".
"No, but for real, we need to get you to prepare! Don't want you freezing up again!". Kurro teased.
Kurro looked at Kenma, "why did you freeze up again?"
Kenma face turned red, picking his nails, "I don't know. At first, his scent reeked then it felt welcoming and I don't know it just kinda made me freeze".
Kurro smiled, "Man, that omega has gotten a hold on your alpha".
"..what".
"Wait how long have you've known him?"
Kenma took a minute, "Well we've been playing on LOL together for a year now".
"And yall are going to meet for the first time Saturday?".
Kenma nodded.
Kurro sighed, "Well you might aswell confess now".
Kenma started choking, "WHAT?".
Kurro started tsking, "No omega would meet up with a stranger they meet on LOL for christ sake. So let's get you to prepare for Saturday".
♡
[Saturday]
"Now Kenma, what did we practice saying?"
"Don't tell him that he stinks"
"Good. What else?"
"Make them feel like they are being heard in the conversation".
"Wonderful. Last thing?"
"Um... food is the way to the heart?".
"No, but just be a good host".
Kurro gave Kenma a pat on the back, sending him his way into the convention center.
Kenma laid eyes on (Name), freezing again, "hey buddy, you are going to be okay". Kurro pushed Kenma foward.
(Name) turned around and smiled at the duo, "hey! Are you Kenma?".
Kenma gulped, "um yeah".
"Oh cool! My name is obviously (Name)! You know the guy you've been talking too on LOL".
The two both nervously laughed, Kurro smiled at them, "Well I'll leave you kids to do whatever nerd shit this is! Later!".
(Name) smiled, "So... the tournament doesn't begin until 1:50, I was wondering if you wanted to check out the anime convention next door until then? There is a lot of VAs here!".
"Um yeah sure that's cool".
"Great!".
The two walked around endlessly in the hot box of an convention center, pushing pass people, looking at the over priced dropshipper vendors.
"Oo! Actually Kenma there is an local artist I want to check out before we go eat. Is that okay?"
"Yeah sure, what art do they do?"
The two walk up to the vendor, "Well they just do fan art but I can't resist keychains".
As the two waited in line, something caught Kenma's eye.
"Hey, (Name). I'll be right back!".
"Oh okay! I'll meet you at the food court?" (Name) chirped happily.
Kenma walked up to an LOL vendor that was selling keychains of the video game characters.
"Um excuse me? Can I get two of these?"
♡
"Kenma there you are!". (Name) smiled and walked towards the blonde carrying drinks.
"Hey" Kenma smiled down, rubbing his neck, "Well I got this for you".
Kenma held out (Name)'s favorite LOL character in a keychain.
"Oh my goodness, Kenma.. you didn't have too".
As (Name) reached out for the Keychain, Kenma grabbed the man's hands.
(Name) look at the blonde, "(Name)...."
"Yes?".
"(Name) if we win this tournament... can I court you?".
(Name)'s face flushed in red.
♡
[Few years later]
"Name... wake up. I don't have time for this today".
(Name) snuggled closer in the bedsheets, just coming off of his latest heat, "I don't wanna, if I do get up that means I gotta be a person today".
Kenma chuckled, "Babe, I love you but I'm trying to stream... I don't wanna anyone else seeing my omega laying in their natural habitat"
"NaTUrAL HaBiTAt, you make it seem like I'm an animal"
Kenma sighed, "Well.. you do bite..".
(Name) threw a pillow towards the man, "You dick!".
(Name) charged towards Kenma; Kenma grabbing (Name)'s legs and flipping him upside down.
"AND HIS NAME IS JOHN CENA! BOOM BOOM BOOOM".
This was my first request and I am very happy! It was long, barely proofread, but I think it was goof! I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much! This was kinda rushed, sorry user if this wasn't as good as you hoped it to be. Thank you for the request anyways!
#haikyuu x male reader#kenma x male reader#alpha kenma#male reader#omega reader#omega male reader#kenma kozume#kenma kozume x reader#alpha kenma x omega reader
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Jupiter is often referred to as the star that failed. Max thinks about that, sometimes, when they're racing and he's just passed Daniel on track. He can look in his rearview mirrors and see the little three on the AlphaTauri—Daniel, in a shitty car he outperforms every weekend, and Max, already set for the podium.
When Max is particularly bored, he rewatches old races from 2014, ‘16, ‘18 and thinks about it, unbidden—how if Lewis and Max simply didn't exist, it might’ve been Daniel on the top step at the very end of the season. Daniel fighting for titles and wins, not letting anyone keep the 1st place cap on their head long enough to mess up their hair. If he'd just been a little quicker, a little more ruthless; if he'd stuck around long enough for the Honda engine, the RB19. If Daniel had just been a fraction of a second better.
Then Max feels bad for ever thinking such a thing. Not because it isn’t true, but because it sounds like something his dad would say.
Jos used to buy Max magazines full of interviews by Senna, Prost, Mansell. He said they were full of stars. He laughed at Max when they got home after Zandvoort in 2011, back when Max was still in karting and Daniel was just starting out in F1, and Max had said: "I want to be just like him."
That Christmas Jos bought Max a poster of Nigel Piquet and said, "This is the type of man you should be looking up to." Max hung it up on his ceiling that night and stared at it. He had thought, privately, that if Piquet was a star then he must have been one of those small stars, the ones that you can’t really see from Earth without a telescope. Daniel was closer, brighter. Sun-like.
He tore down the poster the next morning.
Jos was right, of course, to steer Max towards more successful heroes. Jos would never point to Daniel's article in GQ Sports and tell Max he's looking at a star. Daniel smiles at him, though, on the paddock and off, and it feels like sunshine.
He tells Daniel as much during the summer break, in Daniel's Monaco apartment, tipsy off some expensive wine Max can't even pronounce the name of.
"Jupiter is a very stupid planet," Max is ranting, unreasonably pissed about it. "You know, it has ninety-five moons? The fuck does it need ninety-five moons for? Stupid." He chugs another sip of wine, straight from the bottle. Daniel does the same.
"Jupiter?" Daniel muses after he swallows, less inebriated than Max but still drunk enough to have begun sitting on the couch upside down. The top of his skull almost touches the floor. "Mate, don't diss Jupiter like that. Space gets lonely, maybe."
Max snorts. "It is a planet, Daniel, it does not get lonely. It should just have one moon, or no moons. It is not very loyal."
"It is a planet, Maximus, it cannot be loyal," Daniel says back to him, snarky, in a high-pitched voice and a bad Dutch accent.
"Is that supposed to be me?" He shoves at him, accidentally causing Daniel's head to bang against the floor. Whatever. He deserves it. "Name one good thing about Jupiter."
Daniel shrugs as best as he can. "Biggest planet in our solar system or whatever the fuck. Why are we talking about Jupiter again?"
"Because it is awful, and my dad is not correct." Daniel laughs, at that.
"What? Does your dad, like, love Jupiter or something?"
Max points, accusatory. "See, that is exactly the point! He does not love Jupiter! In fact, he is awful about Jupiter!"
Max can almost see the gears in Daniel's head grind together slowly. "Then why are you dissing Jupiter?"
Max groans. His thoughts make less and less sense the more he goes on. "I am not, of course, dissing Jupiter. I am simply pointing out the fact that Jupiter is not a star and you, obviously, are a star." He's getting lost in his own, brilliant analogy.
Daniel says, "Oh yeah, Maxy?" He has his stupid smile on, the one that Max knows means he thinks Max is crazy but will indulge him anyway. "Well it's very nice that you think so."
"Of course I think so," Max scoffs, perfectly serious. He hates that he can't really look Daniel in the eye, sitting right-side-up. He opts to sit like Daniel, head towards the floor and legs slung over the back of the couch, so he can stare directly at him. "I am being serious."
"Well, I'm serious about that Jupiter shit. Best planet ever. Number one Jupiter defender, right here," Daniel slurs, pointing at himself and flashing his brilliant, sun-warm smile.
Max can't help but smile too.
"You are very stupid," he says, and it sounds like something else. "I am trying to tell you that I think you—you." He flushes, cutting himself off and looking away from Daniel, up towards the ceiling.
"Ah, whatever Maxy. You just can't accept Jupiter's superiority."
Max tries one last time, to make him understand. "Jupiter is called the star that failed," he says, trying to prove something.
Daniel is looking at him, he can feel it. His stare burns a hole in the side of Max's head. "I'm okay with that," he says, suddenly very very soft. "Jupiter's the biggest planet in the solar system. He's got a whole ninety-five moons."
"But he is not a star," Max scowls.
Daniel smiles again, smaller. Kinder. "He gets to orbit a star. He gets to be the biggest planet, and orbit a fucking star, the best star in the universe. That's a pretty sweet deal if you ask me."
Max shakes his head and says, "You are unbelievable." He reaches over to grab Daniel's stupid face and kiss him, and promptly falls off the couch.
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Some blurb with grumpy fem reader and sunshine eddie?
He's constantly flirting with her and she only teases him or talking him down.
One time some cheerleader trying to flirt with Eddie and reader is so possesive, taking his hand and walking away. Eddie is wide-eyed, big smirk on his face and going after her with jumpy steps full of joy.
✶ ┄ SHE'S SO UNUSUAL !
summary: eddie's pretty sure he's loved you since the day he met you. you're pretty sure love is a neurochemical con job
pairing: eddie munson / f!reader
word count: 2.8k
warnings: none? maybe just the faintest hint of angst?
a/n: let's play a game of spot the steven universe reference because a clip popped on my tiktok fyp a couple days ago and even though i've never seen it, i simply haven't been able to stop thinking about it <3 anyways thanks so much for your request! hope you enjoy!
( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )
Eddie’s pretty sure he’s loved you since before he understood what the word really meant. He didn’t know a lot of things, really, especially not as a lanky-limbed teenager trying hopelessly to navigate puberty in a world filled with assholes and uncertainty.
The only thing he could be certain of was all the love he had for you.
He’s seventeen and hopelessly stupid and you’re beautiful and eons out of his league. He concludes that having the majority of your gen-ed classes has to be fate and that making fun of you is the easiest way to talk to you without feeling like he needs to throw up.
So he takes to bothering you every day before class and sitting at the table beside you — despite the fact that it had been assigned to someone else at the beginning of the school year — until the teacher ultimately gives up and lets him sit next to you. He pokes fun at your Blondiemerch and how the same She’s So Unusual Cyndie Lauper cassette has been in your walkman for a week straight and the way you dot your eyes with pretty little hearts.
Every joke is sprinkled with the faintest hint of truth, though.
He tells you that he hates Blondie but that the shirt looks good on you, because everything you wear looks good on you. He says it’s hilarious that you can’t seem to listen to anything other than Cyndie Lauper but that he understands because he’s been obsessed with Metallica lately — and that he’d love to show you some of their music sometime. He says only children put hearts over their i’s, but that it's real cute when you do it, when you do anything.
“You’re so annoying,” you inevitably tell him with the roll of your eyes when he tells you exactly that. He can’t tell if the way the corner of your lip quirks up is from a half-concealed smile or a look of disgust.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he shrugs and knocks his leather-clad shoulder with yours. “It’s not my fault that I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s kinda your fault.”
He says it all with a playful lilt to hide how much he means each word. That he’s in love with you and has been since you were in middle school, when he had a godawful buzz cut and loving Rocky Horror Picture Show was your entire personality — at twelve.
“Love at first sight doesn’t exist,” you argue while you mindlessly jot down notes from the textbook spread open between you, dotting every i with a practiced heart. “Love takes time and work. At the bare minimum, you should at least probably know the other person — and you don’t have a single clue who I am.”
He’s momentarily knocked asunder at your words, at how profound they are. It’s like a century-old philosopher is using a pretty highschool aged girl as a mouthpiece, and it only makes him love you more.
“Well, I could get to know you,” he retorts with a frown. “You just won’t let me.”
“Did you hear anything I just said?” you squint over at him.
“Yeah. That love takes time,” he echoes and a grin pulls slow at his lips. “Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart.”
When two years fly by, and you’re finally a senior (and Eddie’s repeating his last year of high school over again because the one before it knocked him on his ass), you realize that he wasn’t kidding around. He still tries hopelessly to get to know you and jokes that he’s a second-year senior only because he “didn’t want to leave you behind.”
“Couldn’t just leave you by yourself, sweetheart,” he says with a defiant shake of his head. “No way. Not with Jason Carver and all the other freaks roaming around here.”
“Yeah, I don’t think they’re the freaks here, Eds,” you monotone as you put in the combination for your locker.
He immediately notices the use of the nickname. It took you a year to call him anything other than Munson, and now he’s moving into Eds territory? It feels like his heart might burst. But you don’t seem to notice it so Eddie decides to keep it to himself, like sunshine in his pocket, lest he brings it up and he never gets to hear it again.
He presses a hand to his chest and leans in next to you. “Ouch, babe. I’m wounded. Truly. Sorry for wanting to protect a sweet little thing like you.”
You scrunch your nose and swat his hand away when he tries to squeeze your cheek.
“Some would say I actually need protecting from you.”
“I am capable of pretty dangerous things, sweetheart.”
“Like what?” you scoff.
Eddie only grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You ignore the chill that his words shoot down your spine and pretend to be unbothered by the way they make your heart race. You choose to roll your eyes at him and stuff your arms with textbooks. “You better have a massive dick to back up that attitude, Munson, or people are gonna be real disappointed.”
“And by people you mean you, right?”
“Obviously not,” you monotone.
“Well, joke's on you, I’ve already disappointed everyone I know.”
“That’s not true, Eds—” you shoot back but then swallow the words when you realize you were about to say something too sweet. “There are billions of people in the world you haven’t met yet. There’s still plenty left to disappoint.”
“You’re real sweet, you know that?” he jokes with a smile. “Besides, if you’re really worried about the size of my dick, we can always break out a ruler and, you know, test your theory.”
“Ooh, sorry,” you wince. “I left my magnifying glass at home. Maybe some other time?”
“How about tomorrow?” he answers quickly and easily falls into step with you when you shut your locker and head towards your next class.
“I have a date tomorrow, actually. No can do.”
His heart stops and his throat swells and he forgets what words are for a moment or two. He can only blink at you for a few seconds. “A— A date?”
“Uh-huh. Jason Carver. He asked me out this morning.”
“You’re kidding,” he retorts bitterly with a scowl on his face. Then you start laughing at him and the world starts spinning again. He starts laughing too, but it’s more of a sigh of relief than anything else. “You— You are kidding?”
“Obviously I’m kidding,” you shove him. “Hell will freeze over before I am willingly anywhere around that guy.”
Eddie’s freshly beating heart starts to swell. It feels like more of an honor than it already has been, for you to want to willingly be around him.
“Oh, so you were just trying to make me jealous, then?” he squints over at you.
This time, you’re the stuttering mess as you try to figure out what to say.
He chuckles at you. “Because it worked, sweetheart.”
A couple of months or more go by and graduation nears — well, for you. Eddie’s still hellbent that he’s going to have to repeat another year, but you’ve made it your mission to get him to pass English.
He doesn’t even mind that it means he actually has to do the homework, as long he gets to spend time with you in the Hellfire room after school or share a snack with you at the picnic tables at Forest Hill.
It’s got him living in a state of grandeur. He’s hopelessly deluded, not only that he’s in love with you, but that you’re in love with him. And, for obvious reasons, you know that can’t be true.
Neither of you can be in love because you’re kids and you’re stupid and you don’t know a single damn thing about anything, let alone something as trivial and philosophical as love. It’s a neurochemical con job, everyone knows it. It’s not real.
Everyone thought Nancy and Steve were in love at one point, and then she called him bullshit at a party before fucking off with Jonathan Byers.
Everyone thought Jason and Chrissy were in love, too — that they would be everything Steve and Nancy couldn’t — and then she dumped him in front of the entire school after catching him being an asshole to a bunch of Hellfire club freshmen.
So, obviously, no one knows what love is.
And by that logic, they can’t know when they’re in it either.
So you chalk up the butterflies and burning cheeks you always get around Eddie to being a dumb teenager who’s lonely and touch starved. Because it’s not love. It just can’t be.
Eddie begs to differ, though, and he swears he’s got the test to prove it.
It’s the spring assembly at Hawkins High, which means everyone’s gathered in the gymnasium on bleachers that are not nearly big enough to accommodate everyone, doing fuck all and grateful for not having to do any actual work.
The cheerleaders do a couple of dances, the basketball team prances around the court — it’s all hopelessly pedestrian as far as you’re concerned.
You and the rest of Hellfire are located at the very top of the bleachers, as far away as you possibly can be from whatever the hell is going on below you. It checks out, though, because everyone else opts to keep their distance from the lot of you, too.
And you’re not exactly sure how the conversation started, but somehow you end up talking about crushes, and Eddie makes the too bold proclamation that you’ve got the fattest crush on him of all people.
“Leave her alone!” Dustin scolds him over the band, the only one actually trying to stick up for you. “Maybe this is something you should discuss, I don’t know, in private?”
You roll your eyes. “There’s no need. Because I don’t have a crush on you, Eddie Munson,” you tell him, stern and unwavering, as you squint over at him. Your glare follows the boy as he paces up and down the bleachers, two levels below you. “Sorry to bruise your ego.”
“Oh, so you won’t care if I tell Chrissy that I wanna take her on a date?” he asks you with a knowing grin.
“Why would I care?” you retort, then grumble. “It’s not like she would say yes anyway.”
“Well, she did ask me first.”
That quietens you instantly “…You’re lying.”
“Wanna bet?” he teases and leans down, resting his weight on the seating in front of him, until his face is level with yours. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the mint gum he smacks between his teeth.
If you were alone — and in some godawful teenage drama — you might’ve pulled him in for a kiss right there. At least, that’s what your brain tells you to do because your lips have started to tingle just thinking about it.
You hope Eddie hasn’t noticed the way your gaze falls on his own pink, plump, and very kissable ones. But the grin that paints his features then tells you that he has.
You play it off with a stoic expression and crossed arms. “Chrissy going from dating the captain of the basketball team to the town’s local freak would be an unprecedented low.”
“I’ll be sure to tell you all about our trip to Lover’s Lake tomorrow morning, sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head,” he promises before rising and spinning on his heels. He makes the trek to the lower level of the bleachers — a feat made more difficult by the crowd and the distance between it and him.
He makes sure to turn and look back at you every now and again, to make sure that you’re still watching him. You are. Of course, you are. And you hope the seething anger in your chest doesn’t show on your face.
“He’s not actually gonna ask her out, right?” Mike wonders.
“No way,” Dustin denies with the shake of his head. “The president of Hellfire can’t date a cheerleader… Right?”
Gareth shrugs. “He’s obviously bluffing.”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t do that,” Jeff agrees. He turns to look over at you. “He’s been in love with you since middle school. He just wants to upset you.”
“Well, it’s fucking working,” you grumble under your breath. Your heart races and your vision swims as you watch him near the group of cheerleaders sitting on the floor of the gym.
You want to believe that he’s bluffing, you really do, but you don’t doubt that Chrissy’s asked him out.
After she dumped Jason, she’d gotten strangely protective over the Hellfire club ��� constantly making an effort to talk to them all, ensuring that the rest of the school wasn’t acting total assholes around them. Hell, she’s even started being nice to you and you weren't even in the damn club.
She’s been hanging around with Eddie a lot more lately, catching up in the library and ranting about tests between classes. Everyone’s seen it. You’ve seen it. And it’s made you unbelievably jealous.
Maybe you never noticed it before now because you used to be the only girl interested in talking to Eddie. But now he’s got the head cheerleader around to keep him company, to ask him out on fucking dates, and it leaves you seething in your rage.
And if love is anger, then you’re head over heels for Eddie Munson.
You rise suddenly from your seat and shove your way through the bleachers, muttering lackluster excuse me’s under your breath as you go and elbowing those who refuse to get out of your way.
You reach Eddie just before he’s about to tap on Chrissy's shoulder. You take that hand and nearly jerk it from its socket the way you pull at him. Eddie is stunned, for all of half a second, thinking it must’ve been a fuming Jason Carver at the force of the grip around him.
But it’s just you, all but dragging him out of the gymnasium with the strength of ten men in one angry teenage girl, and it makes him smile so hard it hurts.
He traps the grin between his teeth and locks eyes with the rest of Hellfire from across the room. He brings two fingers to his forehead in salute before he’s pulled out of the gym entirely.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he teases as you lead him down a long hallway. “Thought you didn’t give a shit if I asked her out?”
You don’t respond to his teasing. You just keep tugging him by his wrist through the empty school. He’s not even sure if you’re even breathing just now, or if you’re moving strictly on autopilot and rage.
You shove him into Mr. Kamisnky’s vacant classroom and lock the door behind you.
Eddie’s chest rises and falls with the heavy breath he exhales. “Well, shit, sweetheart... If I knew making you jealous was all I needed to do to get you alone, I would’ve done it a long time ago—”
“Say you didn’t mean it,” you interject, less than amused at his teasing.
“…What?”
“That you wanted to take Chrissy on a date,” you elaborate with arms crossed over your chest, protecting yourself, your heart. “Say you didn’t mean it.”
And Eddie laughs. He fucking laughs. Like everything’s a joke to him, like the mere thought of you being heartbroken over him liking Chrissy is funny to him.
It’s not. Well, at least not that bit. It’s laughable to him that you would even think he wanted anybody but you after he’s spent so many years fawning over you.
“Of course, I didn’t mean it,” Eddie scoffs. He tries to take a few steps closer to you, but you back away, not believing him. He softens. “I just wanted to make you jealous, sweetheart. I didn’t wanna… hurt your feelings.”
“Well, you did,” you monotone.
The boy’s brows furrow. “Hurt your feelings or make you jealous?”
“…Yes.”
A smile pulls slow at his lips. He tries to hide it but fails miserably. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I just wanted to see how you would react. And I am very pleased by this reaction… Even though my wrist feels like it’s broken.”
“Sorry,” you murmur to yourself, already embarrassed at how angry you’d gotten.
“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie declines with the shake of his head. This time when he walks toward you, you don’t back away from him. You even let him take your elbows in his hands and rub his thumbs over your warmed and jealousy-prickled skin.
“Actually, you know what, do be sorry,” he corrects playfully. “And make it up to me by taking me out. Somewhere fancy.”
You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile.
“Benny’s Burgers?” you offer after a moment.
“Ooh. Burgers, fries, a milkshake, and a hot date?" he lists with a nod of approval. "You really know how to get a guy to swoon, don't ya sweetheart?”
#published by bug#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#eddie munson fic#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie spaghetti drabble#st drabbles#bug's blurb sleepover
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(JUST LIKE) STARTING OVER WAS DEFINITELY FOR PAUL – a compilation
A meaningful wordplay
As you know, John attached great importance to the lyrics of his songs. He liked to smuggle in word games and hidden meanings. Let's look at a fragment of the lyrics of "(Just Like) Starting Over".
It's time to spread our wings and fly
Wings was Paul's band in the 1970s.
Don't let another day go by
"Another Day" is a song by Paul and Linda that was released as the A-side of a non-album single in February 1971. It was Paul's debut single, following the Beatles break-up in 1970. (Sidenote: giving credits to both himself and Linda, Paul broke up the Lennon-McCartney partnership, angering Allen Klein).
my love
"My Love" is a 1973 song by Wings. The single was viewed as Wings' first significant success.
2. The demos
In the first demo, John uses the word "walrus":
Everyday we used to make it love so why can’t we be making love – it’s easy. The time has come, the walrus said, for you and me to stay in bed again, it’ll be just like starting over
The walrus is a famous motif from Beatles songs. In the song "I Am The Walrus" (1967) John declares that he is the titular walrus, a year later in "Glass Onion" he stated: „And here’s another clue to you all – the walrus was Paul”. In "God" (1970) John sings: "I was the walrus." In an interview from 1969 or 1970, George jokes: „And if you are listening, I am the walrus too”.
Regardless of which Beatles was the walrus, John is for sure giving us an interesting clue here.
As for „in bed”:
Here's another fascinating demo...
This requires no comment. It's just that John suddenly referred to "Why Don't We Do it In the Road", a song by Paul from the Beatles era.
EDIT:
The whole fragment is:
Just take your clothes off honey,
and stick your nose in money..
why don’t we… do it in the road?! (Laughs)
A little hotel where we used to screw
A little place down in Montauk
Just you, me, the cook and the servants too
As @i-am-the-oyster pointed out (the screen is theirs) - it's a 17 minute drive from Paul's house in the Hamptons to Montauk Motel.
3. John explaining who the song is for
„I’m not aiming, I am not aiming at 16 year olds. If they can dig it, please dig it. But when I was singing and writing this and working with her, I was visualizing all the people of my age group from the 60s. Being in their 30s and 40s now, just like me, and having wives and children and having gone through everything together, I am singing to them! I hope the young kids like it as well, but I’m really talking to the people that grew up with me and saying: „Here I am now, how are you? How’s your relationship going? Did you get through it all? Wasn’t the 70s a drag? You know, here we are, let’s try and make the 80s good, you know, because it’s still up to us to make what we can of it. It’s not out of our control”. I still believe in love, peace. I still believe in positive thinking when I can do it. I’m not always positive but when I am, I try and project it”.
Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqxPx2Tvf6A
Let’s point out that the song which convinced John to come out of retirement was „Coming up” by Paul.
You want a love to last forever
One that will never fade away
I want to help you with your problem
Stick around, I say
(…)
You want some peace and understanding
So everybody can be free
I know that we can get together
We can make it, stick with me
BONUS (this is not evidence or premise, but maybe Paul understood that the song was addressed to him): Paul's reaction to the song after John's death.
„…Time passed. Paul locked the door of his home studio and played (Just Like) Starting Over, the first single from Double Fantasy. Top volume. For days”.
- Christopher Sandford, „McCartney”
EDIT:
(it's also @i-am-the-oyster's reveal): One Sweet Dream podcast did an interview where May Pang agreed with the host (JL)SO was for Paul and emphasised that it wasn't about Yoko -- it's a patrons-only episode so I can't link it, but it's April 2023, around the 1h29 mark).
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Use me
Pairings: Mingyu × y/n
Genre/tags: FWB
Warning: 🔞 smut but a little fluff? cursing, sensual touching, making out, needy/clingy, kink
~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]
Words: 1.4k
Disclaimer:
- this story is just made up
- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊
Note: just a short random drabble. 😅 no story line
*****
"What are you doing?" Mingyu asks the second he enters your room.
He found you laying, face down on your bed and wrapped with your thick blanket like a cocoon.
"Go away." You mumble over your pillow
You hear him shut the door of your room and walk around to your bed "Your brother called me and said you are a mess."
"Why would he call you?!" You shove your face even more onto the pillow
"One because he's leaving... he said he'll go and meet up with his girlfriend and her family."
"Oh."
"And two," Mingyu rolls you around, to set your free from your blanket and pulls you up to sit down and face him. "I'm here to be your guy." He smiles as he pushes all the hair covering your face away. "Your eyes are so red... why did you cry this time?"
"Well..." you look down unable to say the thing that hurted you.
"Just say it..." he pushes the blanket away and moves to your side to sit. "C'mon... tell me..."
Tears are coming back up but you try to hold it in. "Maybe it's just my hormones I don't know..."
"Y/N... just spit it out."
You turn your head to face Mingyu, still trying to hold on to your tears. "I think.... I think Cheolie is dating someone new..."
"Hmm..."
"Hmm? Just hmm?"
"Well that's old news."
"What do you mean old news? How long did you knew?"
Mingyu playfully flicks his finger on your forehead. "A month?"
"A month? They have been dating for a month already?"
Mingyu shakes his head. "You asked me, how long did I knew.... A month... but them dating... hmm... looks like a bit longer than that."
"What?!"
Your lips starts to quiver, a sign that you are about to cry again, but Mingyu had it with you crying for that man.
"Stop. If you cry again. I'll kiss you." He warns as he squishes your cheeks, making you pout like a duck.
"But..."
"No buts... stop. You two have broken up for half a year now... you should move on already..."
You move away from him to release your cheeks from his grip. "I know... but... it's so hard to forget... we dated for two years..."
"You say it is hard to forget but look at him... dating already..."
"What can I do? I... I just..."
"Why? Do you still love him? After what he did to you?" He sounds more serious now. "Y/N... come on... the guy is not worth it."
"I know...." you slide back, to let your back rest on your headboard "I just... miss having someone.. maybe? And Cheolie have been that guy for me... I need love and--"
"You have me." Mingyu suddenly says. "I am your friend... and if you want... I can help you with... well... your other needs."
You blush at his remarks. You and Mingyu have been friends longer than you've know Cheol. He have always been there. He is the nicest guy you ever met. And to add to that is he is a very good looking guy. He is a catch.
However, the thought of you and him doing anything more than friendship... that never occured to you.
You don't want to loose him as well.
"C'mon... you're thinking about it too much..." he leans in and kisses you on the cheek. "Just say yes and I'll do all the work if you want."
"But..."
"Why? Don't you want it? Am I not an attractive guy for you?"
"Mingyu... stop... you are beautiful okay?" You wipe the tears you have in your eye and turn your whole body to face your friend. "However... this is not a joking matter okay..."
"Who said I'm joking...?"
Then you see his facial expression more, he's really serious about it. "Mingyu..."
He smiles, not showing any teeth and then leans in and kisses you on the lips. A smooch. "We've hugged before... slept together before..."
"That was different. We literally just... slept..."
"Did we really just slept?"
You suddenly feel your cheek heat up. You know what he is referring to.
Yes you guys had some moments when you both fell asleep watching a movie together in his apartment or your house as per usual. But there were a few of those nights that you tried to brush it off since you think it was nothing that maybe it's juzt because out of habits for both of you since you two date other people, that maybe the muscle reflexes just did it for you while you were have sleepy.
"That look in your face tells me... you do remember..." Mingyu says as he caress your cheek. "We've touched each other and grinded..." he whispers, "I can still remember how your hips moved when you felt my erection from your behind..." he trails off
"Mingyu!" You suddenly got shy. You grab your blanket and cover yourself up again.
It is true. You remember it. It was just a month after you and Seungcheol broke up. You went to visit Mingyu in his apartment because you needed company. You are sad and broken. You want someone to hold onto whilst you cry and Mingyu is a big hugger and you love it.
That one night, you cried so much that you fell asleep. You two are in the sofa and he is hugging you from behind. You were also holding onto his hand, squishing it in your embrace on your chest. Which caused his body to react. How can he not? Your body is warm and his hand is literally touching your boobs that is out of his control.
He tried to pull his hand from you but you insisted to hug onto it. Even pulling it closer that his finger already touching your nipple. He could feel it. You were not wearing a padded bra that day so it's more, exposed when it is hard and perky.
"Y/N..." he whispers, trying to wake you up but no response.Well, no response until you felt his dick gets hard for you.
You were half asleep but you know how to move your hips to make him go insane. You could hear him breathing that night, you know your effect on him. But you tried to avoid it.
"If you just need someone to hug... then just hug me..." Mingyu says. "I am not forcing you anything..."
Lowering down the blanket, you look up to him and watch him, stare at you with so much care.
"But if we make out...and I..."
"Then use me... I don't give a fuck. I'm just as horny as you."
"Hey!" You pinch him on his abdoment. "I'm not... a perv like you!"
"Are you sure about that?" Mingyu is wearing a smug on his lips. "Coz looking at how your nipples are hard and showing through yout shirt says a lot for me." He teases
"It's cold!" You are crimson red now. He is your friend but you hate how blunt he is sometimes.
But he's not entirely wrong though. Him making you remember than one night you to grinded at each other made you feel things down there.
"So, what do you say?"
You lower your head and mumble. "Stay with me..."
"What did you say?" He tries to search for your face. He barely heard you properly
"I said..." you got up on your knees and pull him into a big kiss. "Stay... with me...."
A grin spread across his lips and he responded so quickly by grabbing you your waist and making you sit on his lap. You could already feel his erection through his black jogging pants.
"Just tell me what you want me to do..." he nibbles on to your neck before he goes lower to your breasts. He finds your nipples so easy as they are so hard so he just went on to suck one while pinch on the other one.
"Fuck." You hiss. It felt so good. No one has touhed you in months and this satisfy itch in you.
"Is it me or your boobs got... bigger?" He squishes both with his hands.
"Maybe because period is coming soon..."
"Really?" He smiles. "Is it why your horny and more sensitive too?" He then playfully bites your shirt covered nipple
"Nnggghhh..." you squirm because of the sensation. "Y-yes..."
"You're so cute." He then kisses you on the lips and says, "do you want to fuck?"
#yuyu1024#seventeen imagines#seventeen smut#seventeen fanfic#svt fanfic#svt smut#kpop imagines#kpop angst#kpop fanfic#svt imagines#svt x y/n#svt x reader#svt x you#mingyu#svt mingyu#seventeen mingyu#mingyu fanfic#mingyu smut#mingyu x reader#mingyu x y/n
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sunshine
a/n: a continuation of this post, although altered to be a summer break instead of winter. completely got lost in that 😭 please excuse any informalities, i’m still getting used to writing in second person (or smut for that matter), and tumblrs post format! so don’t be mean ;(
context (if you don't want to read the previous post): Reader is visiting her hometown for the summer. A rising grad student who just so happens to bump into Sukuna at the airport. After quick introductions, he gives her his number in case she gets too lonely...
content ahead: southern sukuna au, black coded!reader, afab!reader, d referred to as dick bc i don’t like using “cock”, v referred to as cunt or pussy, age gap (reader in her early 20s, sukuna is in his early 30s), cowgirl, daddy kink, rough!sukuna (but he’s still a softie), needy!reader, clit stimulation, nicknames such as sweetheart, princess, baby/babydoll, creampie, ass/face slaps, lots of praise, a decent amount of plot
word count: 3.9k
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
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You’ve been texting Sukuna for a week now. Off and on, trying not to seem too interested, but interested enough to keep his attention. It sucked that he was a man very obviously out of touch with technology, because you can’t find pictures of him anywhere. Not even a Facebook page. You’ve just been grasping at straws, trying to remember each detail of his face. Each tattoo. You didn’t even get enough time to admire the one’s on his face, way too engulfed in his general appearance.
And oh, Sukuna. That poor man. He knew from the moment he saw you that you’d keep him up at night. From the curvature of your lips— only being the opening act to the beautiful smile you had hidden beneath. He tries to remember what color your shirt was, but can only remember how plump your tits looked. Practically spilling out of a… tank top? Or maybe it was a crop top. You had a jacket on, which he knows was gray because you kept trying to wrap it around your waist like you were embarrassed by your body. He couldn’t figure out why, though. You’re beautiful from head to toe, every part of you.
But today, today was the day you’d ask him to take you out. Or just ask to go out in general. Hell, you’d take anything at this point.
You: Hiii Sukuna. How’s your wrist feeling? I know a couple days ago you said it was progressively getting worse, any updates?
Sukuna: Hey babydoll. I think it’s all good now. Nothin a lil icyhot can’t fix. How are you?
You: I’m happy to hear that :) and I’m okay, just bored, per usual.
Sukuna: Ya know I’m always around.
You: It’s funny you mention that… I was wondering if you were busy later today? Or tonight. Either or, whatever works best for you. If you would even want to do anything of course.
Sukuna: City girl finally ready to get some sunshine?
You: Don’t make fun of me 😑
Sukuna: Oh I’d never do such a thing. Are you free right now? My lunch break’s comin up, could use the company.
You: Yes I am! I can be ready in 15, I’ll send my address.
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You weren’t as nervous as you thought you’d be. You know you looked good, you felt good. You put on a casual outfit, just a pair of bell bottoms and some old t-shirt your mom left around. This wasn’t a date, and you didn’t want to scare him, so you treated it like a normal hang out with a friend.
He picked you up in an old pickup truck, run down from the years spent riding on dirt roads and an occasional swamp. (Things can get messy the further south you go.) It was normal where you’re from to have at least one beat up truck per household, so his car was not a problem. You were all smiles, nearly skipping your way to the passenger side. Sukuna rolled down the window and he too had a bright toothy smile plastered on his face. It almost looked malicious, but you overlooked it once you got in. Something about his presence had you in a trance, you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.
When you opened the door, he stretched his arm out to help you into the chair. You made it a point to act as if you were struggling to get in and shut the door, nerves suddenly keeping you from wanting to look him straight in the eye. “Damn sweetheart… just look at you,” he said while leaning his body back, taking a moment to take in your appearance. “Hiii Sukuna, you aren’t too bad yourself,” you said giggling.
“We’re just goin’ up to Milo’s, hope that’s luxury enough for ya.”
“You think I came dressed like this for somethin’ luxury?”
“Well if that ain’t luxury, I’d be curious to see what is.”
Smirking, Sukuna went back to putting his full focus on the road. The butterflies in your stomach had died down, finding his presence incredibly inviting and safe. You were looking out the window for a while, until his hand found yours which was resting on your thigh. You turn around to him surprised, only to see his eyes still trained on the road in front of him. His hand clasped yours and gripped it tight, and you found the silence warm, like a gentle hug you wanted to last forever.
The lunch date was sweet. You both ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and a large sweet tea; reveling in its taste since it had been some time since you had genuine sweet tea. He started asking you about your schooling, learning that you’re majoring in business and will soon start working on your master’s degree. This charmed him— you were both alike even if it was in different ways. You’ve always provided for your mother, and so has he. You won’t stop reaching new opportunities, and neither will he. As the date went on his attraction only grew deeper. Your physical appearance did not mean much to him, you were to die for, but right now he wanted to know every single thing about you and didn’t care about anything else.
But… this wasn’t to say he’s not a curious man.
When ordering the food, you took a step back to look at the entire menu. This caused your skin tight shirt to rise up ever so slightly, showing off your cute tummy and belly button piercing. You noticed him staring, and he was never one to lie.
“Sukuna, order some damn food and stop looking at me like that,” you slapped his large bicep jokingly, making that same smirk from earlier slowly grow on his face.
“Mmm, you hidin’ that accent from me girl. Soundin’ so pretty bossin’ me around.”
You could tell the cashier felt a bit awkward at this point, so you pushed Sukuna in front of you to get him to focus.
Even though he would have moments like those, you didn’t feel like he was objectifying you. It never became the focal point of your conversations. It seemed like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you and it made you feel so… different. Sure you were young, but you’d never experienced such a natural yet interesting conversation with a man. You were shocked by it, to say the least, and it only made you want him more.
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After that day, you two were basically inseparable. He made it a point to try and see you after work, and if there was a day where he couldn’t do it, he’d make it up to you x2 the next day. He immediately started spoiling you, whether it was food or sending you money for new makeup, it’s like he couldn't do enough for you. You were always beyond grateful, and would even tell him to tone it down a bit, but he’d always say, “Princesses deserve princess things.”
It’d been around four weeks of this, the dates would get more romantic, and his time with you only more cherished. Although the flirting continued to grow, he never made a move on you. You definitely didn’t want to be the one to initiate anything. Maybe there was a reason for him not wanting to get physical, but not even a kiss? It was killing you at this point, every night you spent just dreaming of what his pretty lips felt like on yours. Not being able to help your hands traveling down to your aching pussy. You were so horny it hurt, and nothing you did could satiate the feeling; knowing good and well that his fingers— let alone his dick could reach spots you didn’t even know were there. Your own fingers would suffice for now, but you would be leaving in just a few weeks, you needed to know what Ryomen Sukuna was like in bed.
So, the next time he picks you up, you make sure to look drop dead gorgeous (not like he didn’t think that about you regardless.)
A few days ago, he paid for your hair and nail appointments. Large knotless braids with curly pieces coming out of them, and the prettiest french tip set you’d ever got done. You told him you wanted everything to be a surprise, and that you were planning to get a new outfit as well AND that he didn’t have to send you money for that. But you know he did anyway. The plan for this night was a drive-in movie closer to the heart of the city rather than where you both resided. There was a wing place you loved, different shops, and the movie would be the last activity.
After picking up a new sundress, a black one with thin straps and a slit at the bottom, you felt confident enough that tonight would go well. You took a shower when you got home, lathered your skin with shea butter from head to toe, and put on all the gold jewelry you owned.
There’s no way he wouldn’t want to fuck you dumb.
As always, dinner with Sukuna was to die for. He was such a gentleman, making sure to pull your chair out for you, telling you to get whatever you wanted from the menu. “Don’t be scared sweetheart, want you nice ‘n full.”
You shopped for a little while after, well, it was really window shopping. You felt so bad that Sukuna was paying for everything, even though he always insisted. You decided to just point out all of the things you liked, kind of like a test— if he really liked you then he’d remember all these things for a future event.
The drive-in was dead. Which I guess isn’t too surprising, you can’t remember the last time someone talked about seeing a movie here. Nonetheless, this was your dream scenario. With basically no one to catch you guys, it was the perfect breeding ground (literally.) The movie was some rom-com looking thing in black and white which you begged to watch, only because you knew neither of you would want to pay attention. Once he grabbed some popcorn and soda from the concession stand, he pulled up in front of the big projection, claiming he needed to be as close as possible because of his eyesight. After a few minutes of pretending to be interested, you turned to him and finally broke the ice.
“‘Kuna, do you like me?” Sukuna couldn’t believe the question.
“Of course I like you baby, why else would I be here?”
“Well,” you started, “I don’t know…”
“Oh, you know.”
“I know you like me, it’s just like— we aren’t like… you know.”
“Gonna have to use your words sweetheart.”
You looked forward as you tried to find the best way to say this, you decided to just rip the bandaid off.
“We haven’t kissed! Or anything! You just hug me or wrap your arm around my waist, but we haven’t done nothin’ ‘kuna. And I’m not sayin’ that’s any indicator of how much you like me, I’m just sayin’ it’d be ni—”
You anticipated this kiss, not only because you did everything in your power to set it up, but you could feel Sukuna’s eyes latching onto the way your lips moved while talking. His lips were just as soft as you imagined, tasting like cherry carmex and popcorn. His hand found its way to the side of your face, cupping it gently until he moved it to tilt your chin up towards him. Your mouth opened a little from the change in angle, giving Sukuna’s tongue access to the warmth yours had to offer. He melted deeper into the kiss, and so did you, as it continued to get more sloppy and wet. You could tell he was eager, swirling and dancing on the tip of your tongue, sucking it harshly like he was trying to gather as much saliva as possible. Just to pull back and have it leak out of his mouth, dripping down both his and your chin. It was downright nasty the way your fluids were colliding, but it turned you on an unbelievable amount. Whining and groaning into him, rubbing your thighs together, lacking the correct amount of friction from wearing a dress instead of pants.
Your hand started traveling to his chest and lower, and he could tell you were really riled up at this point simply from the way you were tugging on his shirt. He pulled his lips off yours, making you reach out for him still since your eyes were closed. When you opened them, you were able to see the true mess you two caused. Sukuna was drooling, his heavy lidded eyes not daring to move from your frame. His hair was everywhere, and you couldn’t be happier with your hairstyle of choice.
“Fuck baby,” he said while rubbing on the sides of your stomach, “I really need you. I’ve been needin’ you. Yer just so damn sexy, of course I’ve been wantin’ to do stuff. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” He leaned in to kiss your cheek and up to the shell of your ear, “Never want you uncomfortable.”
And that sent you over, you cupped his face with both of your hands, kissing him hard. He growled from your sudden dominance, and with a few swift movements, pulled his seat back and slid you over the middle console and into his lap. Your dress hiked up to your thighs once you straddled him, allowing Sukuna to feel just how wet you were. With one hand on your face, and the other on your waist, he slowly made his way down to your cunt.
“So fuckin’ wet for me,” he whispered against your lips, making slow circles on your puffy clit. “This f’me? Say it’s for me babydoll.”
“It’s for you ‘kuna, it’s all for you. Please–” His fingers slid your panties to the side, revealing just how sticky you were for him. Your pussy was basically crying to be touched, and Sukuna was a gentleman, of course.
His mouth never left yours, left hand now resting behind your neck, while his other is furiously rubbing your bare clit. Your moans were being swallowed by Sukuna’s mouth, and when the pleasure finally got to be too much, you suddenly threw your head back with a yelp. Catching yourself immediately, you press your forehead into his.
“‘M sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry— it’s t-too much.”
“Don’t apologize princess, I love seein’ you act like this. So slutty.”
Your tits have barely been able to stay concealed in your already showy dress. They spilled out on their own from your sporadic movements, and once Sukuna could see one, he dropped everything to unveil the other and fondle them both. You kept grinding on his very hard dick, keeping up the rhythm he set up for you while he went to town on your boobs. Massaging them, pinching and flicking the nipples, mumbling things like “fuckin’ shit they’re so soft,” and “need to fuck you.” It wasn’t long before he popped one into his mouth, sucking on it, making it soo much more sensitive. You were squealing at this point, Sukuna looked up at you to see the tears forming at the corner of your eyes. With a ‘pop’ he brought his attention back to your beautiful face. Somehow fucked out just from dry humping. How cute, he thought to himself.
“Look at me, princess.” You struggled, but your eyes met his, still striving for your release. “‘M gonna fuck you, okay? Is that what you want?” You started nodding your head yes like a damn puppy.
“Need to hear you say it princess. Tell me you want it.”
“Wan’ it s-so bad baby, fuck me, I need you to fuck me.”
The thing about pick-up trucks is that there’s not really a backseat, which means you’d have to ride him right where you were. This wouldn’t have been a problem, until Sukuna quickly pulled down his pants and boxers, revealing probably the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. It was the fucking length that scared you. It wasn’t too thick, but girthy enough that it, plus his length, would have your legs shaking for days. He gave his dick slow strokes while you took off your dress, suddenly feeling embarrassed from being the only one naked. He could see you get self conscious by the way you try and hide yourself like the day he met you.
“Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for,” his eyes were still focused on yours while he prepared himself, licking his lips like he was genuinely going to eat you later.
“I can’t look at ya? You just look so damn good sweetheart. Can’t believe yer all mine.”
“You don’t have to gas me up now,” you said looking away.
“Nuh-uh,” he grabbed your cheeks and turned your face back to his, “I’ma always tell you how good you look. Don’t act so shy now baby.”
Your pussy clenched around nothing at his statement, still leaking from the previous foreplay. He pulled your forehead to his lips, kissing it tenderly, and when he let go of your face he asked you one last time if you were ready. You whisper out a shy yes and grab his dick cautiously, lining it up with your entrance as you slowly lower yourself onto it. You let out a sharp grasp as Sukuna rests his hands on the sides of your hips, trying to assist in any way he can. Once you’re close to bottoming out, he starts whispering praises.
“Doin’ so good babydoll.”
“Look at you takin’ me so well.
Every time he spoke your pussy would clench around him, making him hiss and choke back a whine. Once he was all the way inside you, you let out a breathe you didn’t realize you were holding. You raised your head to look at him instead of the way he was stretching you out. There’s that smirk again. One of his hands finds it’s way back to your clit, rubbing slow circles like before to help you relax. You were so tense but you tried to keep a level-headed face, even though it literally felt like you were being split in two.
You felt your walls get used to his size and shape, feeling them contort and mold into Sukuna’s cocksleeve. With that, you start riding him slowly, using his shoulders to stay balanced. You got the hang of it quickly and began picking up pace. He was still stimulating your clit, using his other hand to keep guiding your body up and down. It was clear that you were struggling to take him all in though, pausing every few seconds to catch your breathe or readjust yourself. And this would just not do for Sukuna.
He gripped and slapped your ass hard.
“Gotta do better than that baby.”
Smack
“C’mon sweetheart, put your fucking. back. into. it.”
Each emphasis on a word was coupled with a hard thrust and loud whines coming from the depths of your throat. The sounds you were both making at this point bounced around the truck. There wasn’t a moment of silence and you felt blissful. Lulling your tongue out just for Sukuna to catch between his teeth; moving his hand back to bully your clit, and using his free hand to grab your face and continue fucking his hips up into yours. He was growling obscenities into your ear, “Yeah baby, just like that keep fucking me like that.”
“Sukuna, please! Fuckfuckfuck I can’t,” you were bouncing on his dick beautifully, tits bouncing in unison and he truly believed you were unreal.
“Yes you can baby,” he gave your face light slaps, “keep those eyes open, keep lookin’ at me baby. Doin’ so good, I promise.” You were leaking like a faucet down his dick and balls, and with a certain thrust, you were sure he was hitting your cervix. The string of cries that came out of your mouth made him go faster, harder, knowing that he finally found the spot that makes you weak.
“Am I makin’ you feel good baby?”
“Mhmm, y-yesss, so so good.”
“Yes who?” Your eyes were crossing trying to look at him, confused at what he meant at first, but as his thrusts got rougher you knew exactly what he was getting at.
“Y-yes daddy, it feels so good.” You were slightly embarrassed by the things you were saying, the noises too. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. Searching for your release that was so close.
Sukuna was close too, but he didn’t want that to come before he made you gush all over his dick. When he found his way to your neck, kissing and biting and sucking on your precious skin, you were done.
“Fuck daddy right there!”
“Here sweetheart? You like this?”
“Yesyesyes don’t stop please don’t stop–” and with a cry you were creaming all over Sukuna’s dick. Your pussy clamped down on him so tight, he couldn’t help but look down at the beautiful mess you made all over his thighs. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, causing you to become incredibly overstimulated. Sukuna was getting close, you could tell by his relentless strokes, forgetting any type of consistent pace. His hands were on your hips now, pistoning up into you as your head rested gracefully on his shoulder.
“Mm babydoll gimme a kiss, c’mere.”
When your shaky lips met his, he was sent into overdrive.
“Fuck ‘m gonna cum. Fuck baby, where do you want it.”
Absolutely fucked out, you tried to come up with some sort of cohesive thought. “I-insi..de ‘kuna. In m-me.”
“You sure? Tell me you’re fuckin’ sure, yer milkin’ me baby.”
“I’m s-sure. Please please just cum inside me!”
“Oh, fuckkk…” Sukuna’s load filled your pussy to the brim, leaking out to coat the sides of his dick. He made you feel so full and warm. Finally stopping his thrusts, you hunch over his shoulder and he begins rubbing what feels like hearts on your back, humming into your ear how good you were for him, dick never leaving your pussy.
“Did such a good job princess. So fuckin’ good, are you an angel? Must be an angel, the way you dropped into my life like this.”
“Mmmm I’m your angel ‘kuna. I was made for you only.”
Although the moment was wholesome, your mind immediately flooded with the thought of you leaving in a few weeks.
How were you supposed to leave after this?
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hope you enjoyed ;) and let me know if i missed anything as far as my content ahead section goes!
tags: @aiyaaayei
#📕 my books#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna x black reader#x black fem reader#jjk men#ryomen sukuna#jjk smut#sukuna ryomen smut#sukuna x you#jujutsu kaisen#had so much fun with this#need more#but it took me a solid 24 hours#off and on#😭😭
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Woooo so the Magnus Protocol premiered and I have things to say and things to overanalyse!
As we know, 'Chester', 'Neil' and 'Augustus' are, maybe?, Jon, Martin, and Jonah, respectively. Hence this:
And, of course, there's 'J1', 'M1' and 'J2' in the trailer.
However, I've seen confusion over the fact that the third 'Error' is voiced by Tim Fearon, who as far as I'm aware has not previously voiced any characters in the Magnus universe. Even though the name is distorted, I can make out what looks to be an H at the end of the name, so this very well may be Jonah.
My theory is this: 'Augustus' is Jonah (or just his voice). However, since the body of Elias was killed in the Panopticon, Jonah does not use Elias' voice anymore. Jon, Martin, and Jonah are all disembodied, if we are to believe they are somehow inside the computer/other technology (ie Alice/Sam's phone in the pub scene) or in some way somewhere adjacent to the world of Protocol. So it could, in a dream-logicy eldritch sense, follow that Jonah is able to survive in his own creepy old ass man way, and use his original voice. Obviously, I cannot corroborate this claim in any meaningful way. We have not heard Augustus speak yet, but I think it is a possibility nonetheless.
The fact that Augustus supposedly shows up to read cases aloud significantly less than Chester and Neil could also be a clue. Maybe Jonah is weaker than Jon and Martin due to his injuries, and is therefore unable to materialise as often as Jon and Martin. Maybe the voice that speaks the true cases (because, similarly to how true statements were identified using the tape recorder in TMA, I imagine true cases will be singled out using the text to speech system) is relevant to the case itself - ie, Jonah only speaks when a case is heavily linked to the Eye, etc.
Furthermore, there's the question of who is spying on who and when/why. By this I mean that we hear our perspective switch between devices (the phone, the computer, the security camera during Colin and Sam's interaction, etc), and I believe that this happens because one or more of the 'Errors' (as I am going to refer to them henceforth) is travelling between devices to spy on the characters' conversations. What we hear is dictated by what the Errors, characters who have prior knowledge of the Fears, deem important. This is backed up by the episode's closing scene: Colin's paranoid closing lines. It is clear that Colin believes someone is listening to them, and it is implied that he has made a connection between this and the Errors. What intrigues me is the Errors' motivation for doing this at all. If what they deem important is what we hear, and this is the first that we are hearing, then it seems to me that it is Sam's arrival that has given them cause for concern, or (in Jonah's case) hope (if he is plotting to return, or something, I don't put it past the scheming weasel). So, why are they listening? And how can we really tell if what we are hearing is the spying of Jonah, or of Jon and Martin?
Another thing. Jonny makes a point of letting us know that Alice does not think the work they do is of any significance, or is checked by anyone. She constantly mentions it in passing and is very casual in her attitude towards work. We obviously have the foresight to know this isn't true. The reason I point this out is because of what Sam does when filling out his paperwork: he ticks the 'Response' box, to which Alice responds that it doesn't matter. This could be nothing, it probably is nothing, but I feel like the fact that Sam has ticked the onboarding box of a mysterious department of an already mysertious organisation might come up later...
Yes I know I am jumping to a lot of conclusions, especially where the Errors are concerned. Please take every theory you hear, from me or anyone else, with a grain of salt, this is all speculative. From a writer's perspective, I honestly think it's pretty likely that Chester and Neil aren't actually Jon and Martin, and just their voices taken by the Web or something, but shh I can dream.
Edit: oh my god they changed his name to Norris that is even worse. Jonny and Alex were fr like 'neil is too kind, we need the name to be Chester levels of horrific'
#tmagp premiere#tmagp spoilers#tmagp trailer#tmagp arg#tmagp#tmagp speculation#tmagp theory#tmagp sam#tmagp alice#samama khalid#alice dyer#colin becher#gwendolyn bouchard#lena kelly#tmp arg#tmp#the magnus protocol#magnus protocol
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MCU!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader | MCU!Spider-Man x Stark!Reader
genre: enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn, lil cute moments
description: Your father wants you to knock Peter down a peg. OR Peter is bitter because you’re an Avenger and he’s not.
word count: 3.6k
warnings: Tony Stark being your father is already a warning as to how ridiculous he could be lol, mentions of Spider-Man: Homecoming, references from Captain America: Civil War, idk where this would fit in the MCU timeline per se b/c I’ve only recently started watching all the Marvel movies.
a/n: maybe it’ll be a series? idk, if you like it, lemme know!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
“Firefly, I need a favor.” Your father plopped onto the couch next to you, so you paused your show with the TV remote.
“What is it?” you asked, turning your body to give him your undivided attention.
“You know Spiderling, Spider-Boy?”
“Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Yes. How do you still not know his name?”
“My names are better.”
“Uh huh. Wait, he’s the one that rejected your proposal to become an Avenger.” You nudged him with your elbow, flashing a smirk.
“No, no. I don’t do rejection.”
“But he did turn you down.”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate his frustration. “Sure. Whatever. Anyway, the kid wants to be an Avenger now. Been texting Happy nonstop about when’s the next mission and he’s wanting to see me tomorrow.”
You blinked twice and stayed quiet, a blank stare on your face as to why this was an issue. When he didn’t say anything, you gestured for him to elaborate.
“I don’t think he’s ready,” he added, crossing one arm over the other.
“You’re serious? Dad, you’ve never shut up about him ever since you gave him the suit. Even when I was abroad, I’ve seen what he can do. He’s amazing. You wanted him to be an Avenger.”
“I’m aware. But he said no and now… the ball is in my court.” The shit-eating grin on his face was soon replaced with a chuckle that sounded almost sinister.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, he turned me down and now he wants me back. God, I’m making him sound like an ex-girlfriend.” He shivered in disgust and you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I get to turn him down now. It’s great.”
“So you’re turning him down because he turned you down first. Petty much?”
“Hey, that is not what’s going on here.” He turned his attention to the paused TV screen instead of meeting your judgmental gaze.
“Dad, that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re really letting your pride stop you from recruiting someone as amazing as Spider-Man? Let Peter join.”
“What, are you in love with him or something? You think he’s so amazing?” he asked while doing jazz hands at the word “amazing.”
You wouldn’t call it love; it was more along the lines of admiration. During your time abroad, your father filled you in on all his adventures and antics so if anything, it was his fault as to why you were somewhat enamored with Spider-Man. Deep down, you knew your father adored Peter, so it was only natural you did too.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“You can’t date anyone until you’re 21.”
“I’m telling Mom you’re being ridiculous.”
“I already told your mom and we’ve already established that I’m ridiculous,” he said proudly, as if it was a badge of honor.
“You told me you were proud of his decision to lay low.”
“I am. I was. But now the tables have turned and what kind of person would I be if I let him in so easily? The others think I’m crazy recruiting a 15 year old.”
“16 now actually,” you corrected.
“God, this is like deja-vu.”
You giggled. “I’m the same age as him and you’ve been wanting me to join too.”
“Don’t remind me. You were the first person to ever turn me down and I’m still recovering. I’m waiting for you to crawl back and beg me, saying ‘Dad, please! Let me be an Avenger!’ Like the kid is doing now,” he said, using a high-pitched voice when he was imitating you.
“Good luck with that. I have no interest in being an Avenger.”
“See,” he said, pointing his index finger at you, “that right there is why I need your help.”
You crossed your arms in the same way he did, skeptical of where he was going with this. “Go on.”
“I want you to pretend to be another recruit who wants to be an Avenger. I’ll tell him there’s only one position and make him work for it.”
“Dad…” you said sternly.
“What? He doesn’t know you’re my daughter. And I’m trying to protect him too. The kid’s been going off doing things on his own and not thinking clearly. He can wait on becoming an Avenger.”
“He stopped Vulture. He kept looking for those weapons when no one else would.”
“He’s reckless.”
“You’re using me to make him jealous.”
“A little,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m also looking out for him.”
“Uh huh.”
“He’s coming here tomorrow and I want you to battle him. If he beats you, he’ll get to join.”
“This is so stupid.”
“It’s genius, really.”
“You’re making a kid fight for something that you already want to give him.”
“No. Not yet.”
“You know he can’t beat me.”
Your father leaned in and pecked you on the forehead. “Exactly. Him losing will help him work harder to be better. This’ll give him that push he really needs. So will you help me?”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to fight Peter Parker and make sure he loses just so he doesn’t get to become an Avenger even though deep down, you want him to be one?”
“Precisely.”
“That’s the stupidest idea ever. And it’ll hurt his feelings.”
“No, it’ll build character. He needs to understand it’s not that simple. You can���t ask to become an Avenger and get it.”
“... But he can… because that’s what you wanted in the first place.”
“He turned me down so it’s only fair that he proves to me how much he wants it. Like a test. I’m testing him.”
“No. Dad, I’m not doing that.”
“I’ll enroll you in school right now instead of waiting for the following year.”
You sighed, contemplating his ridiculous proposition. He had adopted you when you were 10 on one of his missions overseas and has kept you a secret from the public. As much as it pained him, he could not bring you home right away because you required guidance on using your powers responsibly. You had to remain abroad for a while longer until the adoption forms went through and your mentors felt you were ready to leave the tiny village where you resided.
However, he and his wife Pepper, kept in touch and always checked in. He showed up every birthday and made it his mission to be a part of your life. Now that you were in high school and your powers were restored, he flew you into New York City right away.
It’s been a few months since your transition and you absolutely loved it. The Avengers who resided in the compound were very welcoming and so far, they were the only ones who knew of your existence along with your mom. Your father had yet to announce your identity to the world because he didn’t want the spotlight to overwhelm you. Originally he planned on having you relax a bit and then enroll you in public school next year, but going earlier was enticing to you.
“... Which school?”
“Spider-Man’s.”
“... Fine.”
“You do have a crush on him.”
“Shut up, Dad.”
The next day…
Upon entering the foyer of the Avengers Compound, Happy led Peter to where Stark was. The man stood in the middle of the main entrance hall, sporting a classy suit and sunglasses. Peter clenched his fists in determination, carefully reciting the words he wanted to say in his head since the car ride over.
“Hey kid. What do you want?”
“Mr. Stark,” he squeaked. He shut his eyes in humiliation, clearing his throat and lowering his voice a bit to sound more confident. Once his eyes fluttered open, he puffed out his chest and said, “I changed my mind.”
“You changed your mind,” Stark deadpanned.
“Yes. I want to be an Avenger.”
“You understand why I’m skeptical.”
“Um… yes, but—”
“Look, you turned me down last time and am I used to rejection?” Peter opened his mouth to answer but was immediately cut off. “The answer’s no, but I respected your decision. All that talk about looking out of the little guy—great—so what changed?”
“I’m ready for more than that now.”
“No, you’re not.”
“That’s not what you thought when I took on Captain America,” Peter argued.
“Trust me, kid. If Cap wanted to lay you out, he would’ve.”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows at the realization that he got off easy, questioning his entire existence.
Stark pressed his palms together and pointed at him. “You really want to be an Avenger?”
The boy nodded eagerly. “Yes.”
He inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. “See, here’s the thing: there’s someone else.”
Peter’s face fell, heartbroken at the thought of being replaced. “What—What do you mean there’s someone else?”
“Well, after you turned me down, I recruited someone else. If you really want to be an Avenger, prove to me you’re better than her.”
“Wait, her?”
“Yeah. You think you got what it takes?”
“Well it’s rude to attack a lady—”
“No. Gender equality’s a thing, right? You beat her up, she beats you up. You both end up in casts—”
“Casts?!”
“Suit up and let’s go.”
With no other choice, Peter obeyed and did what he was told. His thoughts were racing at the thought of battling someone to prove his worth. But this was his dream and he had to get out of his own head. After he finished suiting up, Happy led Tony and him to the outdoor training area that featured a wide-opened space with reinforced surfaces.
It had strategically placed obstacles to encourage agility and tactical thinking during battles. Additionally, the area incorporated holographic projectors to create any virtual landscapes to simulate specific scenarios for the Avengers to train in.
And that was where Peter’s eyes landed on a figure in the distance. You, who was practicing your combat skills with a large kung fu spear. The way you moved was calculated, graceful, like a beautiful yet deadly dance. You performed many high kicks and flips, mesmerizing Peter as your hands maneuvered the spear so flawlessly around your body. Your father and Happy watched you, proud smiles plastered on both of their faces.
“That’s who you’ll be battling today,” Stark said, clapping his hands together once to catch your attention. You stopped what you were doing and landed in a perfect split with the spear parallel to your body, noticing your father and Happy’s presence. You got up and rushed over, your eyes quickly finding its way to the boy in the iconic red and blue costume.
“Hi D-... Mr. Stark. Happy.” You turned to Peter, loving the fact that he didn’t have his mask on yet so you could finally meet him as him. He was far cuter in person, you weren’t going to deny that. “I’m [Y/N].”
Your dad wanted this “test” to be authentic, so you couldn't tell Peter you were, in fact, a Stark. Plus you didn’t look like a Stark anyway, with you being adopted and all. It’d be a cinch.
“P-Parker, Peter. Parker Peter—I mean, Peter Parker,” Peter said softly, shaking your hand. God, you were so pretty that it made him a fumbling mess. He wondered if you two were the same age.
“Great. Now that both you kiddos are here, you both know what you have to do, right?”
You and Peter looked at each other and exchanged awkward smiles. “Mr. Stark, I’m not comfortable battling a… um…”
“Girl?” you finished. “I’d be more worried about yourself, darling.”
The way the word “darling” rolled off your tongue caused Peter’s face to redden like a cherry.
“I’m not saying girls can’t battle, I’m just saying I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Are you going to hold back if the enemy is a woman?”
Peter opened his mouth to say something but to no avail.
“You said you wanted to be an Avenger. There’s only one position available, so we’re going to be testing you both. Happy will launch the simulation sequence and then you two will be fighting one-on-one,” your father explained.
“Good luck,” Happy said, trying hard not to laugh. The two men walked a safe distance away where they could observe you both.
“What’s the simulation sequence?” Peter called out before putting on his mask.
“We’re going to be launching drones at you,” Stark called back from afar with cupped hands.
“Drones?!”
“Yeah, we want to see how much you’ve improved!”
“In 3, 2, 1!” Happy shouted as he pushed some buttons on his phone.
You and Peter both stared up at the sky as a swarm of drones lined up in a similar fashion as the game Space Invaders.
“May the best Avenger win,” you said, sending him a wink. He laughed nervously as you immediately launched yourself in the sky. Peter gasped in awe.
“She can fly?!”
Hovering in front of the drones, you closed your eyes and pressed your index and middle fingers together, forming a "V" shape. Bringing the fingers perpendicular to your forehead, it felt as if you were beckoning an unseen force. With unwavering focus, you opened your eyes, and the spear you held multiplied tenfold, floating effortlessly beside you. Extending your arm forward, you pointed confidently at the drones, issuing a resolute command for the spears to launch their attack. Explosions scattered throughout the sky as you managed to wipe out half the drones with one attack.
“And she can multiply things. Great,” Peter huffed, launching a web at one of the drones to join you.
“She’s going to destroy him,” your father said, chuckling to himself.
“Kid, come back. Don’t be such a sore loser.”
Peter shook his head while removing his mask, muttering self-deprecating thoughts to himself at his performance. You watched as he walked away, rubbing the back of your neck.
“Did I go overboard?” you asked, a tinge of guilt eating away at your conscience. Your father chuckled and waved off your concern with a flick of the wrist.
“No, you did great. He’ll be fine.” He went after Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from going any further. “Hey. You put up a good fight.”
Peter spun around, exasperated and using his hands to express his frustration. “I lost. There was no way I was going to win. She can fly, she can multiply things, she can use telekinesis, she can breathe fire—is she part dragon? How was I supposed to compete with that?!”
You saw him pointing at you from afar, giving him a small smile but was only reciprocated with a frown.
Tony put on a contemplating face. “Is she part dragon…?” he mumbled. “Anyway, I told you that I had to find someone else after you said no. And she’s earned her place. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but you lost fair and square.”
“But—”
“No buts. You aren’t ready. So lay low, be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and work your way up. Go to school, focus on classes, and finish that homework you’ve been putting off.”
“I don’t need to go to school.”
“Yes. You do. Even she goes to school,” Stark said, pointing over in your direction.
You went over to where Happy was, your eyes still glued on your father and Peter. “Happy, he looks so heartbroken.”
“I know. But it’s for the best. Kid’s too eager and knocking him down a peg might do him some good.”
“I feel bad.”
He patted your back and gave you a reassuring smile. “He will be okay. Your father appreciates your help.”
You immediately straightened your posture when you saw Peter come over with your father.
“Anything you want to say to [Y/N]?” your father asked, giving Peter a gentle nudge from behind.
“Congratulations,” Peter said, mustering up as much strength as he could to give you a smile. Because he really was happy for you, but it hurt for him. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and the pitiful gaze in yours wasn’t helping.
“Thanks. You did really well.”
“Yeah, but I have all the bruises,” he joked, pointing at his face in a circular motion. You took a step forward and placed your palm out in front of his face.
“May I?”
His eyes widened in confusion, but he nodded anyway. An ember glow emitted from your hand and all his bruises healed in a matter of seconds.
“You can heal people too? What on earth can’t you do?” Peter was both fascinated but also very annoyed at your perfection.
���I can only heal minor bruises,” you said quickly.
“Of course,” he muttered.
“Happy, take him home for me.”
“Got it. Come on, Peter.”
“Bye Peter,” you said, giving him a shy wave. He only gave you another meek smile before walking away. You glared at your father, who only let out a sigh of relief.
“Great job, kiddo.”
The next day at school Ned practically crashed into Peter, who was at his locker minding his own business.
“Dude, dude, dude!”
“Whoa, what is it, Ned?!” Peter said, a hand on his chest from the sudden heart attack that was his best friend.
“There’s a new girl and she’s so cute. Have you seen her yet?”
Peter closed his locker shut, wracking his brain for a moment when he saw an unfamiliar face today. “No, I haven’t. What’s her name?”
“Uh… I can’t remember. Was it [wrong name]? Or maybe [another wrong name]?”
Peter looked down the hall and somehow amongst a cluster of students, he spotted you walking towards him. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes somehow went straight to you and only you. Irritation overcame him as he remembered the battle from yesterday. How you beat him so effortlessly, so ridiculously cool and being all perfect. And now you’re at his school? What, were you mocking him?
“Ned,” Peter said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Is that her?” He pointed at you and nodded his head in your direction.
Ned looked over in your direction and snapped his fingers. “Yeah! That’s her.”
“Dude, that’s the girl,” Peter muttered.
“Huh? What girl?”
He thought about how he sulked on the apartment balcony, venting to Ned about you. “The… girl… remember what I told you over the phone yesterday?”
It took a few seconds, but Ned’s brain finally clicked. “She’s the one that beat you? Her? Oh my god, you didn’t mention how cute she was!”
“Will you keep your voice down? She’s coming this way!” Peter opened his locker again and hid his face behind it. Ned shook his head in disapproval.
“Are you embarrassed? Come on. Challenge her again.”
“I can’t.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
“No, dude, stop. You aren’t supposed to know about her. Mr. Stark will kill me.”
“But she goes to our school.”
Peter hid his face in his locker until you finally passed. He let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling like he had dodged a bullet. That was, until Ned shouted out, “Hey! New girl!”
You stopped at the familiar label people were referring to you as. Once you turned around, you saw Ned’s huge smile while Peter still cowered in his locker. The boy you were walking with scoffed at Ned’s boldness.
“You don’t need to engage with them. They’re nobodies.”
“That’s not very nice, Flash,” you said, frowning at his poor choice of words.
“If we’re nobodies, why is she friends with Peter then, huh?” Ned exclaimed loudly. If a black hole could open up and swallow Peter whole, now would be the time.
“What, you know Penis Parker?” Flash asked you, incredulous at the new information. Peter carefully pulled his head out of his locker enough to take a tiny peek at you. He wondered what you were going to say.
“Yeah. I know Peter, Flaccid Flash,” you replied, bumping into his shoulder deliberately as you made your way over to Peter and Ned. The entire hallway filled with laughter at your stinging remark.
“Hi. I’m [Y/N]. I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over?”
Peter looked at your extended hand as if it was a foreign object, standing still as a statue. When his brain finally registered what you said, Ned had beat him to it, shaking your hand so fast like he was in the presence of royalty. “We would love to start over. I’m Ned. Peter’s best friend.”
You let out a laugh. “Hi Ned. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Without thinking, Peter grabbed your other hand. “Come with me.”
You didn’t have time to react and he led you to the nearest empty classroom, thankful class hadn’t started yet.
“What are you doing here?” he interrogated, letting go of your hand. You leaned against the wall, crossing one foot over the other.
“I go to school here now?”
“But why here?”
“Because… it’s a nice school?”
Peter placed a hand on his forehead, his jaw clenched as he thought of what to say next without sounding like an ass. “Look, you beat me and you’re an Avenger fair and square. I’m happy for you, really.” His words became soft and broken towards the end. “But seeing you reminds me that Mr. Stark will never be impressed with me. So can you give me space?”
His voice was frail but sincere. You got off the wall and gave him a nod. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Thank you.”
Before Peter could leave, you asked him one last question. “Sorry, but could you tell me where gym class is? I have it first period.”
It took everything in Peter not to curse out loud. He had to fight back his bitterness and said through gritted teeth. “Yeah. I have it first period too.”
You smiled to yourself, trailing closely behind him as he led you both to your first class. Together.
Reblogs and thoughts are appreciated! Thank you!
Update: I might be in the middle of writing a part 2. :) Your support means a lot!
#peter parker x reader#peter parker fic#mcu peter parker#mcu spiderman#peter parker mcu#peter parker x you#peter parker e2l#peter parker x oc#peter parker#spiderman fanfiction#spiderman x reader#stark!reader#tom holland peter parker#inferior flames#my writing
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