#I’ve been thinking about this all morning
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‘Tis The Season
Hello my ducklings! I have pure filth for you, and it’s been so long since I’ve given you guys any Wolfrry so I figure you’d enjoy some after a little drought!
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Warnings- breeding, knotting, use of the word 'bitch', degrading, unprotected sex, wolfrry, its an au so the world is diff, etc
WC- 2k
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The beginning of spring was always a magical time in the pack.
The snow melted and little flowers began to sprout. The sunshine warmed them up, the crisp air and emerging leaves sent a new layer of hope into the coming year. It was the true new year for them, something that put a spring in their step and warmth in their hearts, defrosting them from winter
Y/N sat in Harry’s office, next to the tall alpha as he looked over her plans for the pack gardens. “I think that’s a good idea, but I’d move the peas over to the side.” She mused, letting her body melt as the man’s arms wrapped firmly around her body. As much as she knew she needed to pull away in order to finish these plans… it was the season, wasn’t it? “H… We really need to finish the plots.” Her breathy voice echoed in his office as his hands lifted her dress up and his teeth grazed her mating mark. She shuddered, sagging in his arms- the man was playing dirty, but that was the one spot that would make anyone melt. Having your mate brush it, lick it, press it? It felt like the aftershocks of an orgasm. “Y-You’re not playing fair.”
“No, I’m not.” He hummed. “Because you’re mine, and I don’t have to. You can play hard to get all you want, little mate, but I’ve been able to smell that sweet cunt since you’ve left our bedroom this morning.” The accusation made her want to fight- but there was no ground to stand on. She had been helplessly horny all morning. It was the beginning of the mating season, the breeding season, and she was panting for it. Of course she was trying her best to be a good leader, to get on top of plans, but was it so wrong for her to want to look at her strong, handsome, powerful mate? To see his green eyes darken when he caught her scent, to have him corner her and have his way with her because that's what she dreamt about? It was just in their nature.
“S-So what?” There was one last stitch effort to pretend she wanted to work on the plans. “I’m always wet for you.” It was the truth. It was hard not to be when the man had proved time and time again he was the most incredible lover to exist, that he knew her body like the back of his hand.
“I know that. All I’ve got t’do is walk into a room and you’ll roll on your knees and present that perfect cunt for me to fuck.” He chuckled, making her whine. She always got worked up when he talked to her like that. “That’s why it’s so fuckin’ funny t’me that you’re trying to continue this charade. Acting like the point of being in here is for that blueprint when in reality, all you want is for your mate to bend you over this desk and knot you up.” He was quick about it, following his words as he roughly bent her over. Her tits crinkled the papers they’d just been working on as she let out a gasp, her dress being flipped up and a rough palm slapped the curve of her ass.
“Look at you. My sweet little bitch, came all prepared for my cock.” He crooned, using his foot to knock her legs open. She was obedient, deciding not to even feign a fight because this was exactly what she wanted. “Should spank this ass raw for running about the den with no panties on and your silky cunt bare for anyone to see, but we both know all of them have no mistake on who you belong to.” He’d taken her so many times where people could see, let them watch as he plowed her into a whimpery, sobbing mess. It was no secret that their Alpha was the one who owned Y/N.
“M’sorry, Alpha.” She bleated, cheek pressed against the wood as she heard the distinct clink of a belt buckle and the pull of leather through the loops on his pants. It sent a wave of excitement through her, knowing damn well she was in for it. She’d poked the beast, literally and metaphorically, and now she was going to suffer- or enjoy- the consequences.
“I don’t really think you are, my love.” He murmured. “I think that you’ve been gagging for my cock and I didn’t fuck you hard enough this morning. Was nice and soft with you, showered you off and everything. Let you go about your day… But I didn’t fuck you hard like you beg for. Silly me, making love to my mate, my wife, during the breeding season.” His tongue clicked as she heard his pants fall down to his ankles. “I should’ve known that my pretty bitch needed to be bred properly. Needed to be fucked until your knees were weak. You’ve always been a bit of a whore for it, haven’t you my Goddess?” Y/N couldn’t think of anything other than his cock that had begun to rub through her embarrassingly wet folds, a soft keen leaving her mouth.
Harry was right. She was desperate and hot, needy for him in all the ways he’d just described. Y/N couldn’t deny that she really did need to be fucked stupid during this time of year. Don’t get her wrong- she adored when he was so soft and sweet with her, whispering about how perfect and beautiful she was. But when this time of year came around, she wanted to be used. To be filled and fucked and see his most primal part come out. It was only natural.
“Please, I want it.” Her pathetic simper came out as she wriggled her hips, trying to taunt him. She knew damn well that he would give it to her but she was going to play into it even more.
“I know you do. Could’ve just told me you needed a good fuck, but you like to play games instead.” He wouldn’t admit that he liked those games just as much. The sharp slap on her other ass cheek resounded around the room as he got her to stop teasing him with her ass shaking, notching the tip of his prick in her hole. “Since you want t’be a whore, I’ll give it to you like one.”
Her breath was stolen as he entered her in one go. The sting of the stretch made her yelp but her toes curled as she was finally full, his heavy hand pressing her down between her shoulder blades. Keeping her pinned there and pulling out just to repeat the action, she moaned loudly at his rough treatment of her. This was what she needed. A dirty, quick, hard fuck. “Yesssss…” She elongated the word only to be cut off by a wet gasp, his hips thrusting into her again. “Give it to me, please. Please, Alpha.”
“Now she’s begging.” He laughed,a cruel undertone to his words. “Pretty slut is begging for my cock like she should have done to begin with. I know you need it, but I forget every year just how much of a desperate, wet cunt you’ve got.” His pace started to steady, rocking her on the desk while she whimpered at each press inside of her. Her body was quite literally made for this, made for the stretching and filling and being knotted but Harry’s cock was fucking big. The biggest she’d ever seen, and people sure as hell weren’t shy about nudity around here.
“Now you can’t even talk. Finally got a prick stretching you open and that smart little mouth can’t form words. What about those plans, huh?” His snicker was followed by a harsh thrust. “Silly girl. Should’ve just gotten on your knees and begged.”
Harry loved this season. Loved how Y/N became a little minx, slinking around and trying to figure out how to get him to pounce on her. Like he wouldn’t drop everything to give it to her if she just asked. It was entertaining to make her do the work for it, like a little game. As much as he said he didn’t like them, he liked feeling her desire, knowing she was a little shy even still about asking him for sex- except when she was in heat.
“M’sorry, I just-” She whined as his cock began to fuck into her a bit faster. “I just want you all the time. I can’t help it.” If she had it her way, they wouldn’t leave the bedroom. The scents were crazy right now, everyone throwing them around to attract each other if they weren’t mated. All she wanted was his scent smeared all over her, she wanted it coating her body and there to be no question, even if they had visitors.
“I know you do. My beautiful cockslut. I love that you want it so badly. I’ll give it to you…” His words melted into her being as she felt a thumb brush against her ass, gently pressing in- and she was gone. He knew her weaknesses and this was one of the biggest.
Y/N’s brain could only focus on the pleasure. His hands on her and his growling, her cheek being pressed into the wood as she panted. She’d probably have bruises on her hip bones but she’d wear them with pride. It felt like she was just a hole to fuck and that’s how she wanted it. Letting him use her and reaping the benefits of his primal instincts raising up with his pretty mate splayed out for him. She lost count of the moans she let out as her nails sharpened, scratching the side of the desk as she began to feel his knot.
“Please Alpha, Please, please, please, I want it.” Her pathetic mewls only seemed to spur him on. “I want your knot, I want your cum, please give it to me. Give it to me, give it… I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be your bitch, please-” Y/N sobbed into the wood as he pounded her into her end. She squirted, releasing a gush of wetness over his thighs and trickling down her own as her thighs shook, a high pitched sound leaving her mouth as she felt him give one sharp thrust to be filled with his knot.
She felt it expand, her whimpery mess of a face being pulled up slightly as he folded his body on top of her, grinding inside of her cunt to continue her orgasm and work his cum inside of her. “There you go, goddess. Perfect little breeding bitch, s’what you are. Made to take my knot, my cum, my children.” He growled, babbling as his teeth grazed her mark and made her shudder. His eyes flashed before he closed them, grabbing her hair in his fist and angling her mouth so he could kiss her with the grumbles in his chest calming to a purr as he was stuck with her. Her orgasm had splashed all over the both of them, his balls and thighs wet and her poor cunt stretched and full. Her ass would need a salve from his spanking, but that’s how he knew it was good. She’d been flaunting herself around his office for a reason, and now they were both sated… for a while, anyways.
“I love you.” She slurred, bleary eyes looking up at him. “Love you Alpha.” Her sweet words softened his heart, a fond smile tilting up the corners of his lips. No matter how rough he went on her during sex, this woman was his soul mate. His goddess. No one could ever comprehend how much he loved her.
“I love you more than the moon and the stars.” He whispered, nudging his nose against hers sweetly. “My sweet Goddess. You own me.”
#harry styles smut#harry fanfic#harry styles one shot#harry styles au#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles blurb#harry styles blurbs
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Pretty
spencer reid/gn!reader
i realised i’ve done a lot of introspective narratives about Feelings™️ but not a whole lot of interaction so pls have some as a treat ilu🧡
word count: 1.9k // warnings: there is so much pining in here it could be a forest
You can’t sleep.
Sheep have been counted over, and over, and over again and still, it evades you. For a day where you’d been looking forward to nothing more than collapsing into bed at the end of it; you’re not best pleased. It’s a rough case as it is, you don’t want to be sleep deprived on top of everything else. But it just isn’t happening.
You count seventy three individual little swirly panels on the ceiling before you decide to get up. A walk might go a fair way to unravel your nerves enough to get a couple of hours, at least you hope it will.
With your jacket thrown over your old college hoodie, you don’t bother changing your sweatpants for jeans, and just slip your feet into your boots. Garcia would be outraged at the clashing colours. The look won’t win any best dressed awards, but at this time of night you’re more concerned with clipping your holster in place. You’re not taking any chances. Especially not with the victimology of this case - although you do have the advantage of knowing the Unsub is out there somewhere. It’s still not an overly comforting thought. But you’re out of options, it’s this or counting the rest of the ceiling panels and, frankly, you’re sure you’ll go blind if you have to stare at plaster swirls for much longer. So you tuck your phone and room key into your coat pockets, and leave the dingy little room behind for a while.
The hotel is, thankfully, almost completely dead, save for the night manager dozing at the front desk. Faded carpet plush under your feet, you’re quiet as you descend the stairs to the lobby and its dimmed lights. The world is dark outside the front doors and you hesitate. Is it really the best idea? To walk around in a city that’s home to a serial killer whose victims bear a striking resemblance to yourself? No, no it’s not. Especially not at, you tug your phone out of your pocket to check the time - jesus, two o’clock in the morning.
“Hey, you.”
It would honestly be wrong to say you’re not expecting his voice - if you were to guess which of the team would still be up and about at this time of night, you’d pick Spencer. It’s a no-brainer.
“Hey, me. Couldn’t sleep either?” Your smile is more strained than you mean for it to be when you turn it to him in response, he must have just come back, snuck in unnoticed while you were glaring at the time on your phone. He’s similarly dressed, coat huddled around mismatched pyjamas, another victim of case-induced insomnia then. His eyes are tired, they are more often than not these days. Yours aren’t all that better.
There’s a comfortable moment of silence where you just exist together, in the hushed quiet of the hotel lobby. Breathing in the calm of the night. It almost makes up for the chaos you know awaits the team in the morning.
“Is it nice out?” You ask, toeing the carpet with your scuffed boot.
“You’re not going for a walk, are you?”
“I’m armed, genius, and I’m twice as scary as anything out there.”
Spencer just huffs your name through an exasperated sigh and looks at you as you waltz past him with your hands in your pockets, turning at the waist to watch you go.
“So come with me.” There’s the vaguest hint of a teasing smile on your lips as you walk backwards towards to the front doors. He’s still not moved when you spin on your heel to push them open and walk off into the night - but you could live a hundred lives and still know the footsteps that follow you down the concrete steps anywhere.
He’s not exactly intimidating, but having him by your side in the small hours makes you feel safer than the weight of the gun at your hip ever could. You try not to think too hard about what that means.
“How many ceiling panels are in your room?” Your breath puffs out in a cloud, words winding around each other in the chill of the just about morning.
“A hundred and nine, if you count the ones that are cut in half.”
“Damn, I gave up at seventy three.”
“I’m not sure how much I believe that, I’ve never seen you give up on anything.” Spencer kicks a pebble into the road at the same moment your feet stop working.
To think he’s paid enough attention to you to notice a thing like that. Maybe you should expect it, especially being part of the team that studies human behaviour, but it still takes you by surprise. The idea that he could, would want to, notice things about you. It’s borderline dangerous. Stubbornness isn’t cute - you’ve been accused of being like a dog with a bone when it comes to your theories more than once. But the way he says it so casually yet so reverently, like it’s something to be proud of, like it’s something he admires. You just about manage to get your legs to cooperate before he can realise you’ve fallen a step behind.
He offers his elbow to you, an uncharacteristic first move, and you almost don’t know what to make of it. Spencer doesn’t initiate contact, ever. Or at least, you’ve never known him to unless it’s to check your tac-vest, and yet here he is. Hands in his pockets, sticking his arm out for you to take. You’re sliding your own arm through his before you even really realise it. Well, it would be rude not to wouldn’t it? When he’s offered so kindly?
In the name of safety, presumably. When there’s a killer on the loose and you just so happen to fit the victimology. Keeping you close is a precaution. You steer the conversation towards the case, if neither of you are resting then you might as well be trying to unravel the latest psycho’s motivations. Another precaution, although a little selfish this time around, to save your heart from falling even further for the man beside you.
“Statistically, people who are attractive are targeted more often that those who aren’t. This Unsub isn’t exactly going against the grain, he’s picking pretty victims.” He rattles off the thought as though it doesn’t threaten to stop your heart in your chest.
It was Spencer who’d pointed out the striking similarities between you and the victims in the first place.
“Doctor Reid, do you think I’m pretty?” Your scandalised gasp matches the hands you press against your chest in faux-shock. And, for once in his life, he doesn’t seem to have any words. He just stands there beside you, gulping like a fish. You like him too much to leave him squirming any longer than he already has.
“I, uh-“ He scrambles for a response.
“Because you’d be right, I am pretty.”
The answering chuckle you get is enough to encourage you to link your arm back through his.
“What you’re saying is,” You press on, shaking off the moment, giving him the time to recover, “There’s no shock factor. Single bullet to the head, dumped unceremoniously with the trash. There’s nothing that says ‘hey look at me’ about this guy.”
Spencer hums in agreement, suddenly very interested in his shoes as they traipse along the drizzle dampened pavement beside yours, and the conversation lulls. But you don’t mind. It’s never an uncomfortable silence with him, it never has been. You’re both more than content to just exist in the same space together - his is a calming presence, for all his nervous energy. There’s never any expectation to be anyone but yourself when you’re around him, no judgement, no pressure.
You’re more than happy to trundle along beside him between the streetlights, dodging puddles, the weight of your linked arms nestled comfortably between you. Except, you’re a profiler. So, for all his valiant efforts to keep your suspicions to a minimum, they’re just not quite effective enough. One glance at his face confirms that he’s thinking far too hard about something. You let your shoulder knock into his, your elbow in his side jolting him out of his thoughts.
“You’re doing it again.” It almost feels blasphemous to disturb the peace that’s settled over you.
Spencer releases his lip from between his teeth.
“There’s something we’re missing.”
“We’ll find it. With fresh eyes in the morning, I bet it smacks us right in the face.”
He doesn’t look like he believes you, and you’d have to agree with him there, but the furrow of his brow relaxes at your gentle reassurance. That’s enough for the moment.
A car door slams up the street and makes you both jump. For all the security the gun at your hip awards you, you’re still a little on edge. It’s just you, Spencer, and the door-slammer on the street - though the stranger seems to be so absorbed in his own world that he barely registers the pair of you. While you’re both fairly confident that the man walking towards you isn’t the Unsub, Spencer tugs you closer into his side by your linked arms all the same. He makes sure he’s solid where he stands between you and the passing stranger, even though you both know he wouldn’t stand a chance in that fight with his lanky frame. There isn’t a bit of you that minds the protection. Something catches in your chest, blooming, warming you from the inside out. It’s dangerous.
You’re not sure when you looped back onto yourselves, but the shadow of the hotel looms and suddenly there’s plush carpet under your feet again. Part of you is glad that your chances to embarrass yourself tonight are numbered. He’d be kind enough not to point it out if you did, though.
The elevator is too close to the front doors, there aren’t enough storeys to pass to get to the floor commandeered by the team, and your rooms are the first in the hallway. Doors opposite each other, the irony of the parallel isn’t lost on you. But it’s so rare that you get to spend time with him without any external pressures of a case or the prying eyes of more than a few colleagues. It feels a little unfair that the time has gone so quickly - an hour, your phone confirms when the screen lights up as you fish around in your pocket for your room key. There’s that pang in your chest again, the one that makes you feel like an impatient child. You know you can’t have him the way you want, you know why you can’t, you know it would probably end in heartbreak for everyone. But god, do you want him. It’d be worth every painful second.
Spencer’s voice across the hall stops your hand, room card outstretched halfway to the scanner in your fingers.
“For the record, I do.”
He’s chewing his lip again.
“You do what?”
You know what he means. He knows you know what he means. But neither of you will admit to it out loud. So it just hangs there, in the air between you, as you stand in front of your respective hotel room doors for a moment longer. And then he’s in his room, and you’re swiping your own keycard through the slot, and you’re shut away again. No less wired than you were when you left - but it’s hard to find it in yourself to worry about the sleep you definitely won’t be getting tonight, there’s no doubt about that.
Because Spencer Reid thinks you’re pretty.
if you’re reading this then thank you i love you i owe you my life i can’t wait to put these guys in more situations 🧡🧡🧡
#i rly thought i was gonna get this posted on friday and then decided i hated half of it huh#i still don’t know if i like chunks of this BUT we move#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#lou writes#the canyouniverse
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Revelation
A/N: i must finish this series before it finishes me. this is also only my second time writing on laptop instead of my phone.
<- Series m.list
Sukuna wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this.
It came natural to him — talking to you, I mean.
“Hello?” you asked, putting him on speaker. You didn’t bother moving your phone to your ear, your roommate slept over at her boyfriend’s last night anyway. So you had the apartment to yourself.
A deep, raspy voice answered on the other line with a quick, “Hey,” and you assumed he had probably only woken up a few minutes before he called you.
“Do you . . . need something?” You had to admit, this was quite odd. It was rare for Sukuna to call you so early in the morning, after all, your tutoring sessions were usually in the evening or right after Sukuna got off of basketball practice, which was never before 4pm.
“I’m supposed to need something now? What if I just wanted to talk to you?”
“. . .” You almost dropped your phone on the tiles of the kitchen floor; your silence told Sukuna everything he needed to know.
“What, don’t tell me I can’t talk to my favorite tutor?” His voice held a mischievous tone to it, and the expression painted on his face was no different.
“I’m your only tutor, dickhead.”
Sukuna feigned a sigh, and you almost pitied him for a second. “I just, y’know, miss hearing the voice of the prettiest girl on campus—”
“Sukuna, don’t—don’t do that. Especially not to me.” Chance no. 1 — Those words and the tone in which you uttered them almost made Sukuna think back on the whole bet. If only he had. If only he had listened.
“Do what?”
“You know what.”
“Why not?”
“For fuck’s sake, Sukuna, don’t play coy. It is eight in the morning—”
“I’m serious, though. I just want to talk to you, it’s, ah, lonely over here.” Sukuna twirled a pen he picked up from his nightstand between his fingers.
Lonely? Lonely? Sukuna was lonely? Yeah, he had to be playing with you or something. “Where’s that girl you posted on your story last night then, hm? Was she not up to your liking, Ryomen?”
“Don’t even start.”
You laughed. Sukuna smiled; in all honesty, he really did miss your voice. He had neither seen nor heard from you in days. Coach had been kicking him in the ass lately, telling him to do this and do that, and the injury on his shoulder was really starting to take a toll on his body. He wasn’t allowed to work out, much less, even play ball.
“Are you really serious though? Like, deadass?”
Sukuna paused, before answering moments later. “Why the hell would I not be? Yuuji’s out of town with some of his friends, so I have no one to bother, and no games for a while, either. This is the first time I’ve had — what did you call it? — a lazy morning.”
You couldn’t stifle your giggle. “Is that all you care about? No Yuuji and no basketball?”
“. . . I also have no food in the fridge . . . so that’s that, I guess.”
“Oh, my God! You being miserable is not supposed to be this funny. I can’t.” Sukuna could still hear your laughter loud and clear from the other line even after you set your phone down to clutch your stomach in hysteria.
“How rude of you, Madame President.”
When you realized how casually you were speaking to Sukuna — out of all people, you abruptly regained your composure, and cleared your throat. Yeah, sometimes either you or Sukuna would crack a joke or two during a tutoring session, but you two rarely held a civil conversation without it breaking out into a petty fight or argument about something trivial. So this was certainly new. And, you were also fairly surprised with how natural it felt, as if this was totally normal, and you totally weren’t speaking to the biggest nuisance and bane of your existence.
However, this also wasn’t the first nor last phone call you two would ever have. And usually, speaking while separated also helped keep the peace between you both.
“Are you stable now?” Sukuna teasingly questioned.
Your voice cracked, “Mhm.”
“Good.” Then, he hung up. That was it. That was it. Chance no. 2 — Sukuna should’ve just left it at that. He should’ve never called you another morning, or another evening. But no, he was determined to prove Naoya Zen’in wrong. He could do this. But. . . He shouldn’t do this. And that made all the difference.
Maybe it was a bad idea to immediately start his car and drive to your complex. Maybe it was a bad idea to knock three times, sparing only a glance at the number on your door: 116. Maybe it was a bad idea to enter your apartment. Maybe it was a bad idea. Then again, you were the one who let him in — in the first place. It was a bad idea.
“You said you were hungry, right? I’m making breakfast right now. Wan’ some?”
He should’ve shook his head no, and said, “My fridge is empty. But I’m not hungry,” but he didn’t. Sukuna stayed over for three hours. You two spent the morning sharing a stack of pancakes, and spoke in hushed tones — not for any specific reason — over cups of coffee.
But that wasn’t all. Sukuna began calling you almost every morning after that day. At first, it was an inconvenience, as most of your meetings were in the early hours, but you two came to a compromise and only spoke on the phone for as long as it took you to change your clothes and get ready to leave. However, unbeknownst to you, Sukuna also took the time out of his day. Though it wasn’t much, Sukuna skipped out on his morning jogs to hear your voice. It didn’t matter, anyway, because Coach wasn’t going to let him run if he had a say in this. But he didn’t.
The bet stayed in the back of his mind. Sukuna rarely thought about it. At times, most times, really, it didn’t feel like a bet or a dare or a joke, to Sukuna. It felt real. It felt like he was actually talking to and hanging out with a real person. He was talking to and hanging out with you. And he was enjoying it.
But when Naoya called, and asked for them to meet up after school, Sukuna automatically knew what that little mutt wanted. They agreed on a small diner, close to campus, and not too far from their gymnasium. It was rough, downtrodden, and looked too old to still be running. Nevertheless, no one was supposed to see them here anyway, so it worked.
“Have you two hung out yet?”
The memory of having breakfast at your place was not a distant memory, so Sukuna didn’t mention it. “Not out of school.”
“I assume progress has been slow, then?”
“We’ve started talking more than usual.” Sukuna silently reminisced about all the nights you spent on call together, when either of you couldn’t fall asleep, and about all the mornings you spent eating breakfast together, when Sukuna’s fridge was, like always, empty. But he didn’t mention any of those things.
“You seem to be enjoying this, y’know. I saw the way you dropped her off at her Student Council meeting, don’t think I didn’t.”
Sukuna frowned, but the blond continued.
“You had a smile on your face.”
That, he did.
“If you don’t hurry up and get her to go out with you, I’m calling off the bet. Money’s gone. No prize, nothing. Make up your mind. Go through with this, or, like the pussy you are, forfeit,” Naoya spat out; his tone was far from benevolent, did Sukuna forget about how this all started in the first place? Chance no. 3 — Sukuna should’ve ended the deal right then and there. But he didn’t; if Naoya thought Sukuna was going to back out of this unsuccessful, he thought wrong.
“You seem to have forgotten who was the pussy in the first place, dumbass. I’ll forfeit when I die.”
“We’ll see about that, Ryomen. We’ll see.”
It was later than usual when Sukuna called you that night, and exhaustion was evident in his voice.
-
“You’re telling me, that, you’ve started hanging out with SUKUNA!?”
“Nobara, shh! At this point, the whole building’s going to know.”
“They should know! This is revolutionary! My friend’s getting laid!”
You shot her a pointed expression.
“Alright, alright, let me just tone it down a bit, my bad, because I’m totally not shocked that my best friend is now talking civilly with the man of her NIGHTMARES!” Her pitch gradually got louder and higher as she continued with her sentence. You curled up into a ball on the floor of your shared living room as the brunette paraded around the apartment waving her arms about and screaming in intervals of only two seconds.
“And, and, not only that, he’s also asking you OUT?!”
“Nobara, oh, my God.”
“‘Oh, my God’ is right. This is — I don’t even know what to say — is this good? Is this great? Are we excited? Are we friendzoning him? What’s—what’s the situation here, girl? Fill me in a little more.”
“Oh, yeah, about that. . . I’m not really into baseball, but I was talking to him the other day about it—”
“Why are you only telling me just now?”
“Anyways, I was telling him about this player who I thought was really cute. Y’know, the guy I showed you a picture of—with the really spunky hair, yeah, that guy, and umm, I guess he took that as me saying I’m into baseball. But I’m not. I have no clue what anything regarding that sport even is, I just—ugh, I need help. He says he has really good seats,” you pinched the space between your brows in exasperation.
“What I’m getting at here is that you don’t want to say ‘no’ because he already paid for the tickets?”
You nodded.
“But you don’t want to say ‘yes’, right?”
When you didn’t respond, Nobara audibly sighed as loud as one could, and slapped her palm on her forehead. “I thought you were better than this. Sukuna? Really? You want to go out with that punkass? The one who — you told me — annoyed the shit out of you back in high school? Girl, something has to be possessing you right now, what the fuck.”
“Okay, okay, deep breaths. Let’s backtrack a little,” Nobara seemed to be the only one not following her own instruction.” So, he’s asking you out on a date, with him, and not another better guy who would be better deserving of you. Yes? Ugh, damnit. Okay, anyway, and you plan on saying ‘yes’.”
“I might’ve already said ‘yes’,” you winced as Nobara looked like she was about to faint.
“Oh, dear Jesus. Do I not exist to you anymore? Why are you only giving me the scoop, like, centuries later? Are we not friends, roommates, anything? . . . Okay, okay, deep breaths, Nobara, deep breaths. . .” She shut her eyes and began to breathe in deeply, over and over again.
All the while, you tried to contain your own mind. If you really thought hard and long about it, it would seem a little strange that you were going on a date with Ryomen Sukuna. Scratch that, really strange, actually. I mean, how much could a person possibly change over the course of — what, a year? — to go from teasing and bullying you relentlessly, absolutely determined to make your life a living hell, to asking you out on a date. A date? Isn’t that what couples do? Isn’t that what people who like or love each other do? But, you weren’t supposed to like nor love Sukuna. You were supposed to hate his guts, or, at the most, tolerate him. But no more, right?
That’s what Nobara Kugisaki was trying to figure out, as well. But her specific thinking was on a level below yours. As your best friend, roommate, and all the things you could possibly think of, she knew you. She knew your favorite type of sandwich, your favorite music genres and songs, your favorite hairbrush to use, your favorite pair of shoes. She knew you well. But, after some previous events, she now only knew you well enough. She also used to know your type. . . And, Sukuna? Wasn't it, until now, apparently.
“So what’s the game plan?” The sound of her genuinely curious voice brought an abrupt end to your train of thought.
“Oh, um, I don’t know? Just go to the game with him, I guess. That’s all there is to it, right? It’s just a simple date, a simple outing, an evening of fun. Yeah! Let’s think of it that way.” While you tried to act normal about the whole arrangement, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of misgiving about the whole thing. You were actually starting to like Sukuna more than you let on, he made you feel giddy inside, like a little middle school girl talking to her crush, he made you laugh and smile, but, in the end, you weren’t sure if he changed enough as a person to not go back to his old ways.
“That’s all there is to it?” Nobara repeated, not completely understanding your words.
Maybe you were overthinking all of this. After all, Sukuna never referred to this as a date in the first place, it was you, instead, who thought of it as one. I mean, who wouldn’t? Sukuna played it off as, “Me and Yuuji were originally going to go together, but we bought these tickets before he went out of town. And I don’t like baseball that much, either, I’m more of a basketball typa guy — as you know, so there’s no way I’m going alone. And there’s also no way I’m letting sixty bucks go to waste.”
You laughed with him, and said, “So I’m the replacement?”
“Whatever you want to be.”
To be completely honest, you didn’t give it much thought when you quickly replied only moments later, “Sure, I’d like that.”
-
“What the fuck?! He was clearly safe!” Sukuna yelled, standing up from his seat as the rest of the crowd held similar reactions to what was called.
You crossed your legs, remaining seated, and placed a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. “I thought you weren’t into baseball?”
“That doesn’t mean I’m stupid!” Sukuna extended an arm out in the direction of the umpire, and mumbled a string of curses.
“Was it really that big of a deal? Mind you, you’re the brainy one in this area, not me, for once. You’ve gotta start giving me some pointers.” You cocked your head to the side, and used your hand to escape the harsh rays of the sun.
“Oh really, that so?”
“Mhm.”
“Was my lecture lasting the whole car ride here not enough for you?”
You let out a laugh, “You already know the answer to that.”
“Let me guess, you didn’t listen to a thing I said?”
“Bingo.”
“Sukuna, what are we doing?”
“Hm? What do you mean by that?”
The two of you spoke quietly, whilst sharing a cool milkshake after you unanimously decided it was hot as fuck, and you both were sweating like absolute pigs.
“Y’know. . . What are we doing? What are we doing at a baseball game together? What are we doing spending most nights and mornings on call together? What are we doing on a date together? What are we doing—together?” It was hard enough for you to keep eye contact with someone, you always felt uncomfortable by it, but Sukuna made it nearly impossible. You couldn’t meet his dark eyes for long enough until you had to avert your gaze elsewhere. But sharing a milkshake together? There really was no escape for you.
When the stadium grew boisterous and louder than ever out of the blue, you thought everyone was listening in to your conversation. Then, the logical side of your brain shut that idea down. But, when you and Sukuna turned your heads simultaneously to face the Jumbotron at the same time, you realized.
Inside of a heart-shaped frame decorated in pink and red hearts on the live-streamed video up above was none other than your and the pink haired-man beside you’s faces on the screen. And below your faces, written in bold, large, and white letters were: KISS CAM.
This was it. This was how you would die.
“I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing,” Sukuna turned to look at you with a calmer-than-he-should-be face. “Hell, I don’t even know what I’m doing. But . . . if you’ll let me. . .” His voice trailed off as his eyes languidly moved down your face, until his gaze rested on your lips.
Chants of “Kiss, kiss, kiss” filled the stadium, and grew louder and louder and louder, despite your evidently growing embarrassment.
You don’t know who leaned in first, and to this day, you still don’t know.
Sukuna’s arm — which previously hung around the back of your seat, moved to rest on the small of your back. His other hand gingerly cupped your cheek, and you subconsciously leaned into his hand, relaxing at the feel of his seemingly soothing touch.
A smirk grew on Sukuna’s face, and you waited for an obscene, vulgar joke to come out, but it never did. As your faces got nearer, your noses almost touching as a result, time seemed to come to a halt. You couldn’t even hear the restless crowd anymore. It was just you, and Sukuna. Sukuna and you. You and Sukuna. Come to think of it, you liked the sound of that, to be honest.
While Sukuna came closer, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he really was. I know, it sounds weird to say, but it was true. In high school, he had his fair share of girlfriends, but you never really paid much thought to it. But now, you know why. It was undeniable. Sukuna really was attractive. Even if you push aside him being built like a Greek god, there were still other aspects to his beauty. His seemingly hypnotic eyes, his defined cheekbones, his tattooed skin, and that sharp jawline of his. It was all so, so beautiful.
You closed your eyes, afraid of what would happen next. But really, there was nothing to be afraid of as his lips met yours in a tender, yet fervent kiss.
This was . . . new. You didn’t expect a kiss from the Ryomen Sukuna to feel this way — not that you ever thought about that, no way. Was he always this gentle? Fuck, why was his hair so soft? While your focus was entirely on the man in front of you, your hands were quite distracted and moved to his nape to play with the little ends of hair there from his undercut.
Earlier, the cries of the stadium were softened and shut out because of . . . something you didn’t know about. (And the author doesn’t know, either.) But now, sounds of the stadium were completely drowned out, for you could only hear the hammering of your own heartbeat in your own chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Your mind was wiped completely blank, and you felt lightheaded, beyond dazed, even, as Sukuna caressed your cheek whilst he deepened the kiss ever so slightly. His lips began to move more ravaging-ly, like he was greedy for more. His tongue lightly grazed against your bottom lip, before he gave you lick. Taking the opportunity — as you parted your lips in a gasp, Sukuna added a little bit of tongue into the kiss as well.
The crowd grew wild, erupting into cheers as the sight on the screen grew closer and closer to a mere porno. Some parents were even forced to cover the stares of their curious and confused children
You swore — for a split second, that you could taste the bitterness of the chocolate syrup from the milkshake you two had shared earlier, which made the kiss feel impossibly more sweeter, and even pleasant, if you will. You felt your face heat up, and your cheeks redden. You just knew he was going to tease you about this later, but did it matter? Not really, no.
The kiss turned sloppy, as Sukuna grew insatiable like the jerk he was, and people in charge of the KISS CAM quickly moved to a different couple, in hopes of keeping things a little more on the PG side.
You were surprised, to say the least, as you found yourself craving more. You grew fond of the feeling of his lips on yours, and you were beyond devastated — a pout evident on your glossy lips, when Sukuna pulled away.
You sank down into the back of your seat, covering your reddening cheeks, and attempting to hide from the world as Sukuna only gave a shit-eating grin to the people around you both.
Was it the beer that made you do all of that? Oh, right. You’re completely sober! God, you wondered what possessed you to do such a thing, much less, on live video! There was no excuse for what you just did. Nada.
“Was it really that bad? — That you had to hide away like a little hobbit?” Sukuna teased, laughing as you continued to get impossibly more red.
He really, really enjoyed this.
#if this flops i might just kms#sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna x you#ryomen x reader
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like daylight II Mariona Caldentey x Reader
masterlist I word count: 2545
a/n: Hi, the oneshot is based on this idea here, enjoy. <3
“We need to talk about Mariona.”, Alexia begun as she sat down with her older Barcelona teammates to eat their breakfast in the hotel in which they stayed for an away game. The morning sun enlightened the whole room as they started the conversation, everything the day light touched appeared golden.
“And y/n.”, Marta added who immediately knew what the fellow captain was hinting at.
“So, we all saw that, right?” Irene asked the players around her.
“Right.”, Sandra confirmed what everyone has noticed for the past weeks. Everyone could see that Mariona and you had feelings for each other but were too shy to make the first step. This was understandable as both of you had been hurt by your ex-lovers in the past.
“We have to help them out a bit.”, Alexia concluded.
“But how?”, Irene wanted to know from her teammates.
“I think I have an idea.”, the dark-haired defender claimed.
“What are you thinking of?”, their captain responded in a curious tone.
“They both love music. Maybe that’s something.”, Marta thought out loud.
“We could do a karaoke night, let Mario play the piano while she could be singing.”, the goalkeeper suggested winking.
“I like that.”, Alexia nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s disgustingly romantic.”, Caroline shrugged, while she hugged Marta from behind.
“One day you’ll see that it’s actually cute.”, her girlfriend said sounding warm as she kissed the cheek of the taller woman who immediately blushed.
“Maybe if it’s working.”, the Norwegian admitted slowly.
“It will.”, the Blonde stated, leaving no room for doubts.
“Someone’s very convinced.”, Caroline laughed.
“Yes, just you wait.”, Alexia replied confidently.
“I’ll watch from the sidelines.”, the winger told the midfielder, she was by nature not a person who searched the spotlight.
“So, you’re not singing for us? How sad.”, Sandra teased the Scandinavian smiling.
“Never.”, Caroline shook her head in a decisively manner.
“Who’s not singing?”, you just passed your teammates, but when you caught the part about the singing you abruptly stopped to join the conversation.
“Caro doesn’t want to.”, Marta explained humming.
“We’ll do karaoke tonight.”, Alexia informed you.
“Really, that sounds fun.”, you answered cheerfully.
“Yes, right?”, the defender beamed at you.
“Yeah, I can’t wait for that. Mario, will you play?”, you questioned the midfielder who has been walking with you to the breakfast room.
“Sure, I can play.”, Mariona answered grinning.
“Great.”
“Any idea what you want to sing?”, the Mallorquin glanced at you interested.
“Hm, I’ve to think about it. What about you? Any songs you love to play on the piano?”, you redirected the question.
“Let me think about it.”, Mariona mumbled, already deep into her own thoughts.
“But for now we’ve training girls this isn’t High School Musical!”, Alexia reminded you earnestly but with an amused smile on her lips.
Marionas eyes twinkled as she looked at her teammate: “Don’t tell me you watched High School Musical!“
“Oh my god, Ale totally did!“, you shouted excitedly while the captain rolled her eyes with a small smile.
“Training.“, she reminded you.
“Don’t distract, capi! Kei, Ale watched High School Musical!“ You turned towards the English midfielder, knowing that she was an avid fan of the movies.
Keira almost dropped her coffee cup as she stared at Alexia in amazement: “No way!“
Alexia glared at her: “Don’t you dare tell anyone about it!“
Keira remained unimpressed by the threat, grinning at the older midfielder: “We have to watch the movies together!“
“Yes, for a team movie night!“, you suggested.
Keira nodded: “Yes!“
“Please no.“, Alexia sighed.
“Oh come on!“, Keira begged.
You innocently blinked at your captain with big eyes: “Please say yes!“
“Stop doing your puppy eyes!“, Alexia scolded you.
You continued, making your eyes even wider.
“Damn it, they always work. Fine, we’ll do it one day.“, Alexia finally gave in.
“Yeah!“, Keira high fived you happily.
“Oh yes!“, you cheered with her.
Alexia shook her head and got up from the table. With a wink, she referenced the movies again: “Can we get our heads in the game now?“
“Sure, Capi!“, you laughed, following her out of the breakfast room to get ready for training.
“Thanks.“
After a successful training session, Mariona stopped you on the pitch. “Y/n?“
“Yes?“ You took a sip of your water, trying to slow down your breathing.
“Have you picked a song yet?“
You were prepared for the question, having spend the entire training thinking about it: “I did.“
“Which one?“
“Something from the Beatles? I heard they’re easy to play on the piano.“, you proposed.
Marionas face lit up, apparently satisfied with your suggestion. “I like that. I can play a few of their songs.“
“What about All you need is love?“, you thought out loud.
“That’s my favourite one!“, Mariona replied, smiling even bigger.
It was almost infectious how happy she was, her smile was starting to appear on your face too.
“Mine too. Plus, everyone can join in on the chorus.“
“That’s a great idea!“, the midfielder agreed.
“Right? Maybe we could try it out before the karaoke starts.“
You thought that practicing the song at least once could not hurt. It also gave you a chance to spend time alone with Mariona.
“Sure. Let’s see if I still got it.“, she laughed.
Freshly showered and changed, you met in front of the piano that stood in the hotel lobby. Mariona sat down on the stool and cracked her knuckles.
“Okay, ready?“, you asked, sliding onto the space next to her.
“Ready.“, she nodded, beaming as usual.
“There's nothing you can do that can't be done (love). Nothing you can sing that can't be sung (love).Nothing you can say, but you can learn how to play the game (love).It's easy.”, you sung smiling her positive energy was infectious.
And indeed, the room was filled with love, but you told yourself it was just the love teammates had for each other and nothing more, because that couldn’t be real, right? Happy endings happened to other people not to you.
“Not bad. I think you’re ready for tonight.”, Mariona clapped into her hands enthusiastically when the song was over.
“You are too. No, really, you’re actually very good on the piano.”, you replied excitedly.
“Thank you.”, she muttered, playing nervously with a string of her hair.
“It’s true.”, you said vigorously while saying that your hands accidentally touched, sending an electric thrill through your veins, you both blushed and pulled them away from each other.
“Uhm.. I should go. I’ll see you tonight for the actual karaoke?”, the midfielder quickly got up from the chair, trying to put as much space between you two as possible.
“Yes, I’ll be there.”, you reassured her, trying not to feel hurt by her reaction to leave as fast as possible.
“Of course, you’ve to sing.”, Mariona reminded you laughing warm-heartedly.
“But not without you playing maestro on and off the pitch.”, you complimented her, making the fellow football player blush even harder.
“Oh, please.”, she waved it off.
“What?”, you innocently asked her.
“Stop flattering me.”, Mariona begged smiling.
“You don’t like that`”, you rose teasingly an eyebrow at her.
“No.”, the midfielder responded.
“Okay, noted.”, you nodded.
“Thanks.”, she sighed happily.
The evening came by, and you had to admit you were a bit nervous, although your nerves calmed down when you spotted your teammates:” Hi, girls.”
“Hi. Ready for your performance?”, Irene looked at you interested.
“I am, where’s Mario?”, you questioned, automatically looking for the Mallorquin who usually enlightened every room she stepped into with her presence.
“She’s coming.”, Alexia pointed into the direction Mariona appeared.
“What are you two going to play and sing?”, Sandra asked curiously.
“All you need is love.”, you answered cheerfully.
The older players looked knowingly at each other, you tried to ignore the glances and everything to which they could allude to.
“Good choice.”, Marta commented in an appreciating tone.
“With that song everyone can sing the chorus.”, you explained your decision.
“Yes, we hope you’ll join us.”, Mariona added equally thrilled.
“I won’t.”, Caroline announced smirking.
“Caro.”, her girlfriend clicked her tongue reprovingly.
“There's no way I’m going to sing.”, she stated.
At the same time Mariona sat down in front of the piano: “Time to get the karaoke started.“
Alexia turned to the teammates sitting next to her: “You got to shut up now!“
“And let the magic of music and love work.“, Marta added with a solemn expression on her face.
Caroline shot her girlfriend an annoyed look: “Marta, that only ever happens in cheesy RomComs or Musicals.“
“At this point even I have to agree with Caro, this is going too far.“, Alexia said.
“Shhh, be quiet. All of you.“, Irene told them.
Marta smiled towards the centre of the room where you stood next to Mariona: “Yes, this is going to be good.“
Your teammates only went silent when Mariona started to play the first notes. As you started to sing, your gaze subconsciously tried to find its way back to Mariona. She was so focused on playing that she did not even notice.
When you finally reached the chorus, your teammates joined in, singing and clapping along. Between them, Irene whispered: “Look at them. Do you think they even remember that we’re all here?“
“No, I think they definitely forgot about us.“, Sandra chuckled.
The song ended, Mariona played the last notes before looking up at you. You both smiled at each other softly.
“Great, now who wants to sing after such a perfect performance?“, Lucy complained loudly from the side of the room.
Mariona stood up, gesturing towards the makeshift stage: “Your turn, Luce.“
“Me?“, she grinned, trying to hide her surprise.
“Yes, the stage is yours. You can bring Ona with you.“, you smiled politely.
Onas head perked up: “What?“
Lucy shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing the younger the defender by the hand and pulling her along: “Let’s go, Ona. We’ll be singing?“
“But they were so good and we can’t sing!“, she protested while reluctantly following Lucy.
“Who cares? We’re football players, not musicians.“
“Right, which song do we pick?“
While the two discussed which song they should sing, Caroline looked around the room: “Uhm, guys. Where die Mario and y/n go?“
“They’re outside.“, Alexia replied, her voice almost bored like this was the only possible outcome of the evening.
“I think it’s working.“, Marta clapped her hands.
Right after the performance, Mariona had taken you outside. You could hear the muffled voices of Lucy and Ona starting to sing.
“You were fantastic.“, you smiled at your pianist.
Mariona shook her head like she did not what you were talking about: “Me? You have such a great voice.“
“Thanks. Seems like we’re a good duo on and off the pitch.“
“Yes, I think we are.“, she laughed.
“I’ll miss you when you leave for England.”, you blurted out, immediately the light-hearted atmosphere cooled down.
“Who says I’m going to?”, the midfielder replied in a serious tone.
“The people online.”, you told her.
“I haven’t made a decision yet.”, Mariona remarked, her signature smile has vanished from her face.
You nodded to emphasize you understood the situation she was in even though you wished the player would stay in your team.
“But you and this team make it very hard.”, she declared. Hearing her say that made your heart skip a beat.
“Yes, the team is really special. Wait, me too?”
“Of course, you are too.”, Mariona answered sincerely.
“Why am I making it hard for you to go.. it’s not like we’re.”, you rambled nervously.
“Because I like you. Like a lot.”, the midfielder whispered.
“I like you too.”, you responded truthfully.
“You do?”, she glanced at you pleasantly surprised.
“Yes, for a while actually, but I was scared you might didn’t feel that way.”, you confessed quietly.
“You should have said something.”, Mariona replied, there was an undertone in her voice full of sadness.
“You’re right, but I guess now it’s too late.”, you bit your lip regretfully.
“Why would it be too late?”, the fellow football player asked while stepping closer to you.
“If you’re leaving you probably don’t want a long-distance relationship.”, you explained your thought process, as you stared down to your feet, but your teammate lifted your chin, so you had to look into her brown eyes.
“First of all, I’m not gone yet. And second, if I can be with you, I’ll find a way to make it work.”, she listed calmly.
“That’s so sweet of you, but my ex-lovers said that I’m complicated and you’re just pure sunshine.”, you objected unhappily.
“I’m not pure sunshine, trust me.”, Mariona reassured you, gently stroking your cheek.
“So, you think we should give it a try?”, you sounded hopeful. In the background, you could hear Alexia, Irene, Marta and Sandra singing With a Little Help from My friends. They were terrible at it, but they made up for it with her enthusiasm.
“I believe we should.”, she agreed.
“It’s better to try than to forever wonder about the what if.”, with that said you gave her a heartfelt kiss which the midfielder happily replied. Soft kisses were exchanged that evening, in the night soft touches were added. In this moment you turned from teammates to lovers, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
You were awoken by the sunlight falling softly through the curtain. You slightly moved your head from Marionas chest and found that her arm was wrapped around your waist. You smiled to yourself as you watched Mariona take deep breaths in her sleep.
This moment felt like a dream to you. But with a glance at the alarm clock, you quickly realized that it was reality and you were about to oversleep.
Carefully, you poked into Marionas biceps, trying to wake her up.
“Μario, it’s morning.”, you whispered.
She yawned, her face lit up by the morning light: “And?”
“Time to return to Barcelona.”, you smiled.
“Five more minutes.”, she groaned and pulled you closer to her.
“Okay but only because it’s you and it feels so cozy.”, you gave in, immediately snuggeling back into her.
She looked beautiful. The way her hair shimmered golden almost took your breath away.
With her eyes closed, she mumbled: “I could stay here forever.”
“Me too.”
A knock on the door interrupted your blissful morning.
“Mario, y/n, get up or you won’t get any breakfast!”, Alexias voice sounded through the door.
You rolled your eyes: “Ugh, why is Ale like this?”
Louder you answered her: “Give us five more minutes, Alexia!”
Mariona smirked slightly: “If we go into the shower together, it saves us some time.”
“I like the way you think.”, you laughed, touching the tip of the midfielders nose before she got up and pulled you into the bathroom with her.
The two of you spend more time making out in the shower than you would have if you showered individually but you valued this morning way too much to rush things.
You never knew that love could feel so light and warm, just like daylight in the morning. Whatever would be coming in the future, you were ready to tackle it as long as Mariona would be part of it.
pictures are from pinterest.
#mariona caldentey#mariona caldentey x reader#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso#woso one shot#woso community#woso oneshot#barca femeni#spain wnt#barcelona femeni#alexia putellas#irene paredes#sandra panos#marta torrejon#caroline graham hansen#lucy bronze#ona batlle#woso request
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Can you do an imagine where reader is heavily pregnant and overdue. She’s grumpy and sore and just overall not feeling too good so (driver your choice) comforts her and tells her how amzing she is? 😩
Overdue Love - Lando Norris x Reader
a/n: Thank you so much for your request my love!!🍓 I loved working on this one, such a cute idea! I have no idea why I wrote for Lando, but I thought he would be such a good girldad <3
Send in your requests!
Masterlist
Y/N sat on the couch, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to find a position that didn’t make her sore back ache. She was heavily pregnant, overdue by a week, and every minute felt like an eternity. Her swollen belly seemed to defy gravity, and the heat of the afternoon didn't help. She sighed deeply, glancing at the clock and wondering if this baby would ever decide to make an appearance.
Lando, her loving and supportive partner, walked into the living room with a gentle smile. He had just finished a video call with his team, but his thoughts were entirely with Y/N. Seeing her discomfort, he immediately came to her side, his concern evident in his eyes.
“Hey, love,” he said softly, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “How are you holding up?”
Y/N sighed again, leaning into his embrace. “I feel like a beached whale, Lando. Everything hurts, and I’m so ready for this baby to come out.”
Lando chuckled lightly, his fingers brushing through her hair soothingly. “You’re doing amazing, you know that? I can’t imagine how tough this is, but you’re handling it like a champion. Our little girl is just taking her time, getting ready to meet the most incredible mom.”
Despite her grumpiness, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words. Lando always knew how to make her feel better, even in the most uncomfortable situations. She placed a hand on her belly, feeling the baby’s gentle kicks.
“She’s already got a sense of drama, just like her dad,” Y/N teased, looking up at Lando with affection.
He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Well, she does have a flair for the dramatic. But she’s also got the best parts of you. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Y/N tried to shift again, her face contorting with discomfort. “I can’t find a position that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being crushed.”
Lando got up and fetched a couple of pillows, arranging them around her to provide some support. “Here, try these. Maybe it will help a bit.”
As Y/N settled into the new arrangement, she sighed with a bit more relief. “That’s better, thank you.”
“You know,” Lando began, sitting back down beside her, “I’ve been thinking about how strong you’ve been through all of this. The morning sickness, the cravings, the sleepless nights… You’ve handled everything so well.”
Y/N laughed lightly, though it was tinged with exhaustion. “I don’t know if I’d call it handling it well. More like surviving.”
“Well, to me, you’ve been amazing. I’m in awe of you every day,” he said sincerely, his eyes shining with admiration.
Hours passed with Lando staying by Y/N’s side, making sure she was as comfortable as possible. They watched movies, reminisced about the past, and talked about their hopes and dreams for their little family. Despite the discomfort, Y/N felt grateful for Lando’s unwavering support and love.
As evening turned into night, Y/N began to feel the first twinges of contractions. At first, she brushed them off as more Braxton Hicks, the false labour pains she’d been experiencing on and off for weeks. But as the contractions grew stronger and more regular, she knew it was finally time.
“Lando,” she called out, her voice tinged with both excitement and nervousness. “I think it’s happening.”
Lando’s eyes widened, and he immediately sprang into action. “Alright, let’s get everything ready.” He had been preparing for this moment for months, and his excitement and nervousness were palpable.
They grabbed the hospital bag, which had been packed and ready for weeks, and headed to the car. Lando drove carefully but quickly, glancing over at Y/N every few seconds to make sure she was okay.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching over to hold her hand.
Y/N winced as another contraction hit. “It’s intense, but I’m okay. Just keep driving.”
They arrived at the hospital, and the staff quickly ushered them into a room. Lando stayed by Y/N’s side the entire time, holding her hand, encouraging her, and reminding her to breathe. The hours of labour were gruelling, filled with moments of pain and anticipation.
Y/N squeezed Lando’s hand tightly as another contraction rippled through her body. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted, tears streaming down her face.
Lando wiped her tears away gently, his own eyes glistening with emotion. “You’re doing great, love. Just a little longer, and we’ll have our baby girl in our arms.”
Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on Lando’s soothing voice. He talked to her about their future, about the first time they’d bring Poppy home, about all the things they would do together as a family. His words were a lifeline, helping her push through the pain.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the moment arrived. With one final, powerful push, their daughter entered the world. The room filled with the sound of her first cries, and Y/N collapsed back against the bed, exhausted but overwhelmed with joy.
“She’s here,” Lando whispered, tears of happiness streaming down his face. “Our little Poppy.”
The nurse placed the tiny, squirming baby on Y/N’s chest, and she looked down at her daughter with a mixture of awe and love. “Hi, Poppy,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Welcome to the world.”
Lando leaned in, kissing Y/N’s sweaty forehead and then the baby’s tiny head. “You did it, Y/N. You were amazing.”
Y/N looked at Lando, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “We did it,” she corrected him, her voice filled with emotion.
The next few days were a blur of feedings, diaper changes, and sleepless nights, but through it all, Lando and Y/N were a team. They took turns holding and comforting Poppy, marvelling at every little coo and movement she made.
One night, as they sat together on the couch with Poppy sleeping soundly in Lando’s arms, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe she’s finally here,” she said softly.
Lando smiled, looking down at their daughter with a tender expression. “She’s perfect, just like her mummy.”
Y/N laughed lightly, though she was still tired from the labour. “I think you’re a little biased.”
“Maybe,” Lando conceded, “but it’s true. You’re amazing, and Poppy is amazing because of you.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying the peace and quiet. Y/N felt a sense of contentment she had never experienced before. Despite the sleepless nights and the challenges of being new parents, she knew they were incredibly lucky.
“Do you remember the first time we talked about having kids?” Lando asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Y/N nodded, smiling at the memory. “It was on that trip to Italy, right? We were sitting by the lake, and you said you wanted a big family.”
“Yeah,” Lando said, his eyes distant as he recalled the moment. “I remember thinking how perfect it would be to raise a family with you. And now, here we are, starting that dream.”
Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness. “I’m so glad we’re doing this together, Lando. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Lando leaned over and kissed her gently. “Me neither, love. Me neither.”
As the weeks passed, they settled into a routine, learning the ins and outs of parenthood together. There were sleepless nights and moments of frustration, but there were also moments of pure joy and love. Lando continued to be a supportive and loving partner, always ready with a kind word or a helping hand.
One evening, as they were getting ready for bed, Y/N looked over at Lando, who was gently rocking Poppy to sleep. “You’re such a natural with her,” she said, admiration clear in her voice.
Lando looked up, smiling. “I’ve had a great teacher,” he said, nodding towards her. “You’re an amazing mum, Y/N.”
Y/N blushed slightly, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “We make a good team, don’t we?”
“The best,” Lando agreed, walking over and placing Poppy in her crib. He wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close. “I’m so grateful for you, for us, and for our little Poppy.”
Y/N rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Me too, Lando. Me too.”
#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris#formula one x reader#formula 1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#ln4#ln4 imagine#baby imagine#pregnancy imagine
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I just wanted to say I absolutely adore how you write Lars. I can perfectly imagine him in my head and it’s spot on. Please just keep writing all the Lars ❤️
I had an idea where the reader works at the lab with Lars. She has a crush on him but thinks he doesn’t like her but it’s more so because she makes him nervous and he doesn’t know how to act around her.
Winston sends them out to another borough (Queens, Brooklyn, etc) to collect an item he wants to extract or study and they could either get stranded and have to spend the night somewhere or come into some danger and finally confess their feelings? Maybe a bit of angst or jealousy followed by fluff. Thank you! 🥰
Here you go! It's got some jealousy, its got the one bed trope, it's got yearning and pining, and it's super long. I hope you like it.
“Seriously, he hates me,” you said.
Lucky shook her head, aiming the crossbow at the target. Her smile was secretive and you couldn’t unpack it without her thoughts being voiced. You kicked your legs as you watched, hands trapped under your thighs, waiting for the thunk of the bolt hitting the target. You offered a high five for the bullseye.
“He doesn’t,” Lucky said, “hate you, that is.”
“He’s always so… mean,” you said, trying to come up with the right words.
“He’s mean to everyone. If anything, that means he likes you,” she replied.
“He glares at me,” you said.
“I think that’s just his face.”
“Okay, well, when I enter a room he walks out of it pretty quickly and I always get the feeling it’s because of me. Like he can’t even stand to be in the same room as me,” you said, feet kicking harder as you thought about it.
Just that morning you’d been busy making a coffee in the tiny kitchenette you’d petitioned Winston to invest in. When you’d turned around, slowly mixing the mixture with a teaspoon, you’d looked up to find Lars standing just behind you, looking at you with furrowed brow and harsh glare. Instead of saying anything to you, he spun on his heels and stalked away, leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth.
You had plenty of other examples and each one left you sure that he wanted you to leave the lab and never return.
“Well, that could be anything,” she said, “maybe he just remembers something he has to do. Nothing to do with you at all.”
“Right,” you snorted, “sure.”
You watched her sink another bolt into the target, trying to work out what Lars’ problem was. You were always polite, always nice, sometimes a little too nice, and had never done anything to him. Maybe he’d realised that you had the tiniest crush on him and felt so offended by that he had to be cruel.
And what did it say about you that you still had that tiny, really not very significant at all, minuscule crush on him?
“Gee, I sure hope I don’t pay people to sit around and not do work all day.”
You startled, looking up into the face of Winston. Guilt curled around your heart, stomach sinking as you stared at him. He waited a moment, staring at you.
“We were just…” you trailed off, trying to find some excuse.
“Bouncing ideas off each other,” Lucky said, “while weapons testing.”
A small smile flicked the corners of his mouth up and you relaxed. It wasn’t often Winston got upset with you. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d seen him get upset with you. Stern, sure, but not upset. So his small smile set you at ease.
“Lucky for you I have an assignment for you,” he said, “come on, we have something to pick up.”
You trailed behind him, a bounce in your step. You’d been stuck in the lab for too long, working on calculations and data input. Getting to stretch your legs and go out into the world was exciting.
Until you saw who’s station Winston was leading you to.
“Pinfield, I’ve found you a partner,” he said.
Lars looked up, brightening until he saw you standing there, shifting your weight between your feet. A storm flew over his face, a glower levelled in your direction.
“Absolutely not,” he said.
“Play nice. It’s out in Brooklyn so it’s gone take you most of the day. Miss Hathaway has a trunk we’re interested in procuring. Retrieve it and bring it back here. She’s expecting you,” he said.
“No way,” Lars said.
“You’ll do it or you’ll be on gunk duty,” he said, “until summer.”
His face drained of whatever colour there might have been left. He stood abruptly, the screech of the stool on the floor harsh on the ears.
“You can’t be serious,” he said.
“As the plague,” Winston replied, “do it, Pinfield. It’ll only be a few hours.”
“I won’t even bite,” you said, speaking before your thoughts could catch up.
Winston’s chuckle as he clapped your shoulder only brought heat to your cheeks. Lars wasn’t even looking at you. Cursing internally, you feared you might have just made it worse.
“See? She’ll play nice with you,” Winston said, giving you a little shove in his direction, “van is waiting out back.”
He trudged off, not even bothering to see if you were following. His shoulders were tense and you could faintly hear him muttering to himself, no doubt cursing your very existence. Hours with him as you trekked out to Brooklyn on a fetch mission were shaping up to be a very specific form of torture.
He pushed the door open, letting in overcast sunlight. The air was cold, far too cold, and you shivered, curling your arms around your body as you stepped outside. The depths of December was not the time to be giving yourself over to the elements. Sliding in the van beside him, you ignored the curl of his upper lip as you directed the air vents towards you, flicking on the heat.
The roads were busy, people trying to beat the usual Friday holiday rush. Leaning back in your seat, you turned your gaze to the window, people watching as best you could in the stop start motion. It didn’t take long for the first flutters of white to pass by.
“It’s snowing,” you said, almost to yourself instead of to the other presence in the car.
“It’ll stop,” he said.
When you glanced over his knuckles had turned white around the steering wheel and his jaw was clenched. You let yourself look at him for a moment, knowing he couldn’t look back. Your eyes traced over his profile, along his nose, over what you’d always imagined would be soft lips, down his chin, the long column of his neck disappearing under the buttoned up collar of his shirt. he was beautiful. That much was obvious to you.
If he realised you were looking at him, he was ignoring it. And you. His fingers reached for the volume, turning up the radio until it would be awkward to talk. You continued to look, watching him. He was so careful as he drove, cautious, leaning forward to peer through the windscreen. He didn’t seem comfortable in his role as driver, tense and awkward. Or maybe he was just always like that.
The snow began to come down in flurries, sticking to the ground. Traffic slowed down even more, coming to a crawl. You pressed your nose to the window, looking out on the world.
“It’s getting worse,” you said, raising your voice to be heard over the radio.
“It’ll stop,” he said again.
You were pretty sure he was wrong.
Hours passed in silence, taking longer than it should have. The snow was falling thick and fast, the taillights of the car in front your constant companion. Lars wasn’t breathing easy, loud in the car, the radio long since turned down so he could concentrate. You were doing your best to make yourself a non-entity, not wanting to distract him at all. He’s already snapped at you just for playing with the heat.
Until it became clear that you had to say something.
“We can’t keep on,” you said.
“We’re almost there,” he ground out.
“Lars, I think we should stop until it clears up,” you said, “or at least stops snowing.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon. We should press on,” he said, jaw still clenched.
“Lars.” You waited until the van had braked again, his face turning towards him, “we have to stop.”
“Fuck,” burst from him, his hands slamming down on the steering wheel. You jumped at the sound of the horn blaring, “fine. Find somewhere for us to spend the night.”
You typed into the gps, looking for any kind of hotel nearby. Anywhere the two of you could stay as you waited for this storm to blow over. He followed the directions, pulling off the road to follow the directions as best he could in the swirl of snow and darkness.
The carpark was surprisingly full and you were worried you wouldn’t be able to find a room there. He put the car into park, staring up at the building in front of you. Instead of talking to you, he pushed the door open. You shivered, the cold invading you. Your coat was not enough to handle a snow storm.
“Come on,” he groused.
You made a dash for the front door, doing your best not to slip. His hand caught you around the elbow, keeping you steady as your feet almost came out from under you. He practically dragged you through the front door into the warm light and warm air of the entrance. Crossing over to the check in desk, you felt apprehension.
“You’re in luck,” the concierge said, “we have one last room available tonight. This weather has certainly changed a lot of people’s plans.”
“No. We need two rooms,” Lars cut in before you could say anything.
“Ah, then I’m afraid you’re not in luck. We really only have on room still available,” he said.
“We’ll take it,” you cut in before he could say anything.
One room was better than no rooms and you didn’t want to risk either of you having to go back out into that weather. You took the key from him and led a disgruntled Lars to the bank of elevators.
“Why would you do that?” he hissed when the doors closed.
“Did you want to go back out there? Because I sure as hell don’t,” you said.
He rolled his eyes, looking away from you with his arms crossed over his chest like a petulant teenager.
“Look, you can put up with me for one night. Just suck it up and deal with it and then tomorrow morning we’ll go finish the job,” you said, tired of how hostile he always was with you. It was one night. He could deal with it.
He didn’t answer. The doors open and he strode forward, plucking the key from you. You rolled your eyes, following him, trying not to look at the way his ass looked in his slacks. He might infuriate you, he might hate you, but you still felt butterflies around him and found him stupidly attractive.
Pushing open the door to the one room you were going to be sharing with him, he flicked on the lights. You ran into his back as he stopped without warning.
“What?” you asked, “is there something wrong? Did we find the murder hotel?”
You looked around his shoulder and then felt yourself freeze with him. One bed. One fucking bed. God must be laughing at you because this had to be some kind of sick joke. One double bed in the small room. This was going to kill you.
“Absolutely not,” he said, turning around to storm out only to find you still there.
He looked down at you, eyes flashing, jaw clenched, lips pressed together tight. You placed a hand on his chest, ready to push him back. He made a small noise, stepping back as if your touch burned. Maybe it did.
“I’ll go down and ask for a trundle bed or something,” you said.
You held a hand out to him, palm up, waiting for the key. He stared at you, blinked, then dropped it into your hand to keep from touching you.
Unfortunately, your trip was a bust. Too many people stuffed into a small hotel, not enough facilities for the weather. You returned on heavy feet, ignoring the man riding the elevator with you as you tried to come up with a way to tell Lars that wasn’t going to blow the entire thing up. You doubted he was above storming out into the snow and sleeping in the van just to prove a point.
“Not a fan of this weather?”
You looked up, finding the man watching you in the mirrored doors.
“Oh no, that’s not… It’s fine. Better if I was at home than here,” you replied.
“I dunno. I think there’s something magical about an unexpected snow storm in a hotel. All kinds of people come together that would normally stay so seperate,” he said, studying your face in the reflection.
You looked back, if only because his thoughts had surprised you. You hadn’t thought about it that way, seeing the nuisance the entire thing was rather than the possibilities it presented. He gave you a half smile.
“After all, would we have met without it?” he asked.
“I don’t even know you,” you replied.
“Dave.”
He offered you his hand. The palm was calloused and warm against yours and you felt shy as you gave him your name. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you averted your gaze down to your feet. His look of interest at you was new and a flutter of excitement started in your chest. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen with Lars.
“Same floor,” he said as the doors opened with a ding.
You stepped out into the hall, carpet softening the sounds of your footsteps. He followed, looking down at you as you walked side by side, hands close enough to almost brush against one another.
“This is me,” you said, coming to a stop outside the door, dread filling your stomach at what was waiting beyond for you.
“If you need any help warming up, I’m only two doors down,” he said, pointing at an identical door just down the hall from you.
The door to your room opened without warning, Lars sticking his head out. His hair was ruffled, as if he’d running his fingers through it and his sneer was not promising for the coming conversation. You gaped at him as his hand shot out, grasping your wrist and pulling you closer.
“That won’t be necessary,” he told Dave, shutting the door in his face.
“What was-“ you tried to ask before he interrupted you.
“Only an idiot would accept an offer to share a room with a stranger,” he said, cutting you off, “are you really that desperate?”
“Desperate for what?” you shot back.
His mouth opened and then shut with a snap, as if he didn’t deserve an answer. He spun on his heels, striding back to the bed, three steps away from you then back again. The skin of your wrist burned from where his touch had been fingers circling it like a manacle.
“Well?” he asked as if you’d been having a completely different conversation.
“Well what?” you asked.
“Are they going to bring a trundle?” he asked.
Ah, right, yes, that.
“They’re all out,” you said, ripping the bandaid off quick in the hopes it would hurt less.
“What do you mean they’re all out?” he asked, voice going deathly still.
“Something about a surprise snow storm and not being prepared for so many guests. If you want to go argue with them, be my guest.”
You gestured to the door and for a moment you really believed he was about to storm out of there to argue with the front desk. Then he shook his head, turning away form you so you couldn’t see the inevitable rage on his face.
“I know it’s a less than pleasant situation, but we can share a bed for one night like adults,” you said to his tense back.
He muttered something that sounded like an insult to your intelligence before he took his glasses off and dragged a hand down his face. Replacing them, he turned back to you. You’d never seen him without his glasses on before. You wondered how much of a difference it made.
“Let’s just get this over with. Make sure you stay on your side of the bed,” he said.
You would have snakily suggested making a pillow wall if you thought there’d been enough for that. As it was, the pillow situation was little depressing. One each.
You let him pick which side he wanted first, not wanting to annoy him further. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you shucked your coat off, lying it aside. Tugging each shoe off, you glanced over your shoulder at him. He still had his tie on. He wouldn’t be sleeping in that would he? Apparently he would. You were going to have a hard enough time trying to sleep in your jeans. He wasn’t human. He couldn’t be.
You climbed into the bed, turning on your side so you didn’t have to see him. The bed dipped as he lay down beside you, a tug on the covers. The lights went off, leaving you in darkness. Facing the window, you watched the snow fall, not sure you’d be able to fall asleep. Shadows passed over the glass, the pile of snow growing on the window. You sighed, soft in the silence.
The longer you waited, the more the cold began to invade your senses. You could put it off when you were focusing on other things, problems to solve. Now you were left waiting, shivering in the expanse of the bed.
Lars was close enough you could almost feel his body heat. The bed wasn’t as big as either of you would have liked if you had to guess. He shifted again. You curled up in a ball, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to stop the shivering. You didn’t want to wake him. He hated you enough as it was.
A grunted huff. You tensed, waiting to see what happened. Nothing. Silence reigned again. You tried to relax again but the shivering was becoming unbearable.
“For gods sake,” you heard Lars mutter into the dark.
“Sorry,” you whispered.
“Can’t you stop?” he demanded.
“I’m trying,” you replied through gritted teeth, “it’s so fucking cold.”
A hand reached out, fingertips brushing over your spine. You jerked back, shrieking when you almost fell out of the bed. An arm curled around your waist, hauling you against a warm body. You struggled against the hold trying to put more space between the two of you.
“Stop flailing about like a fish,” he said.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
“I know you find me repulsive but perhaps you can put that aside for one night so you don’t freeze to death and we can both maybe get some sleep,” he said, voice soft, breath ghosting against your skin, “shared body heat is the best chance of that.”
He certainly was warm against you.
“I don’t find you repulsive,” you whispered, not able to focus on anything else. If you did then you’d feel the way his body felt against yours, the hard planes of his chest, the curve of his legs as the slotted behind you, the soft rise and fall of his breathing.
“Course you do,” he said, “don’t be stupid.”
You turned, needing to see his face. You had no idea what was going through his head but whatever it was you needed him to know he was wrong. His arms tightened around you as if wanting to stop you but you wiggled your way around to face him.
He was so close, nose brushing against yours. You froze, finding him without his glasses, breath brushing your lips. He was softer without them, more boyish, less of something to hide behind. He drew back, retreating, like you were chasing him away.
“I don’t find you repulsive. Not at all. You’re…” you hesitated, not wanting to reveal your hand to him.
He began to retract his arms from around you but you reached out, winding his tie around your hand, keeping him in place. He glanced down then back to your face, lingering a moment. You must have been mistaken because otherwise he had been looking at your lips and that would be too much to handle.
“I’m what?” he asked, voice barely above an exhalation.
“You’re beautiful,” came from you without permission.
Lying so close to him in the dark, lit up by the lights out on the street, it felt like a confessional, the perfect moment for secrets to spill out.
He blinked, a look of confusion passing over his face. On of your hands came up, tracing over the way his eyebrows came together, smoothing the line between them.
“You’re the one who hates me,” you said when no response came forth.
“What makes you think that?” he asked, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers continued to trace over his features. He wasn’t batting you away, demanding you stay on your side, to stop bothering him.
“You glare at me, you leave every room I enter, you’re mean to me,” you listed off, “you made it clear you didn’t want me going on this job with you.”
“Because I knew it would be intolerable to sit in the van with you for hours,” he said, voice heartbreakingly soft.
“See? You hate me,” you replied.
“No.” His eyes sprang open and there was something there, so close to fear, or panic.
“No?” You had no idea what he was getting at.
“That wasn’t why it would be intolerable. It’s not… I’m not… You’d be sitting so close I could touch you,” he said.
“So?” you asked, not sure what the problem was.
“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself.”
Now you were the one who was confused, eyebrows drawing together. The way he was looking at you was like it hurt to say and that only made it less clear what was going on.
“What?” you asked.
“I want to touch you, all of the time. You’re so…You’re just… It’s… I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“So why are you always so mean to me?” you asked.
“To remind myself you don’t want me the way I want you,” he replied.
“But what if I did?”
That shut him up. He looked down at you, still so close to him, mouth hanging open. You decided to take matters into your own hands, since he didn’t seem to be getting the message.
Surging up, you caught his lips in a soft kiss. He made a pained noise and you drew back, worried you’d hurt him. His hands pressed into your spine, dragging you closer as he kissed you again, almost like he couldn’t stop himself. His tongue dragged over your bottom lip and you opened yourself up to him.
He didn’t stop you as you climbed onto him, knees falling either side of his hips, straddling him. Your hair fell forward, a curtain between you and the rest of the world. You were quick as you tugged on the tie, pulling it off him, so frustrated by it. His hands had fallen to your hips, squeezing, pushing up past your sweater, seeking out the warmth of your skin.
You lost yourself in him, in his kisses. For such a buttoned up person, he kissed like a man who knew what he was doing. It only made you moan into his mouth, wanting more, wanting him in all the ways you’d never admitted to anyone before. You wanted his hands all over you. You wanted his lips all over you. You wanted him.
“We have to stop,” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again.
“Uh huh,” you hummed, letting your tongue graze against his.
His answering groan and the tightening of his hands wasn’t indicative that he wanted to stop. He was kissing you like you were the air he breathed. Like you were everything he’d ever wanted.
“Really,” he said as he drew back after indulging for a long moment.
“You don’t want me?” The sting of rejection was like ice over you.
You sat up properly, staring down at him.
“No. What? No. I do. I want you,” he said, panicked as he sat up too, following you, arms curling around your waist to keep you in place in his lap, “but not here. Not like this. Not in some seedy hotel. It should be after I’ve taken you somewhere nice for dinner and shown you that I’m a good guy and that I’ll treat you right. I’m meant to impress you first before this.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” you said.
“Maybe.” His eyes darted away from you.
Reaching up, you cupped his cheek, turning his face back towards you. Your lower lip was caught between your teeth and his eyes landed on it again, darkening, almost smouldering. You lent forward, giving him another lingering kiss.
“I must admit, when I’ve thought about it, it wasn’t quite like this,” you said, “at the very least I expected to be wearing sexy underwear.”
His skin heated, cheeks flushing. Your thumb ran over the warm skin, admiring it. His small whimper was gratifying and the way he was looking at you let you know he wanted to devour you.
“When we’re done with this job, I’m taking you out,” he promised, eyes sweeping down your body.
You let your fingers fall from his face, brushing the vulnerable skin of his neck before you began to slowly unbutton his shirt. He caught your wrist again and you wondered if that was something he enjoyed. If he might want to restrain you.
“What are you doing, love?” he asked, “I thought we were in agreement.”
“You can’t sleep like this. I’m just getting you comfortable,” you murmured.
He released you, letting you unbutton the rest of the shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. His skin was soft against yours, so warm it was almost burning in the cold air of the room. He lay back, pulling you with him. You settled against his body, head reasting on his chest, half on top of him.
“You have no idea how happy I am,” he murmured in the dark.
“I think I do,” you replied.
His lips pressed to the top of your head in a soft kiss before he settled down again. You listened to his heartbeat, slowing as his breathing evened out. Closing your eyes, you let yourself relax against him, much warmer than before.
And if you returned to the lab the next day with a bounce in your step, then you didn’t feel any need to explain yourself to Winston when you passed over the artefact.
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second beginnings // c. berzatto
back at it again with another fic. i've missed writing for carmy so, so much.
Spring in Chicago was nothing like you’d ever seen. An already vibrant city seemed to welcome a new light as Winter loosened its frosty grip upon the streets. Gone was the slush and sleet that crowded the gutters and pavements, once treacherous journeys were now leisurely strolls. Small petals drifted down from the newly flowering trees that lined the sidewalk, and one landed in your hair as you wandered towards your apartment.
Having just spent the better part of Saturday morning in a crowded studio, steady hand guiding a finely polished brush over expensive canvas at some art class your sister had dragged you to, you were ready to get home and relax. There were avocados, cream cheese, and a bag of store-bought bagels on your bench, and you could almost hear them calling your name.
Matching your pace to the song playing in your headphones, you almost didn’t notice the man in the alley as you passed by a dingy building with newspaper covering the windows. You paused mid-step, taking a closer look. Plucking one headphone out, you called a name that hadn’t passed your lips in a very long time.
“Carmen?” The man turned, cigarette between his lips. “Carmen Berzatto?”
Starting down the alley towards him, you weren’t sure he’d even recognise you, but his eyebrows raised as he took you in. And as he said your name, welcoming you with a rough hug and a ‘no fucking way,’ you couldn’t help but grin.
It had been ten long summers since you’d seen him, and he was no longer the gangly teenager he’d been back then. You’d kept tabs on him through the years, unable to just let him disappear from your life after the monumental Christmas night that still made your blood run cold if you thought about it too much. Reading all those articles, watching from afar as he racked up achievements in the culinary world, working in the most prestigious restaurants across the world…
But then why was he here, standing before you in a back alley in Chicago, looking so… empty?
“You’re back in town?” He asked, hands still bracketing your shoulders as though he thought you’d disappear if he let go. “I thought you flew off to Italy or something.”
“I did, yeah. Hung out in Florence for a bit, eventually ended up in France. Brittany, but then I did a very, very brief holiday stint in Monaco. Fucking expensive there. Went and stayed with one of my aunts in Belgium, and—” You were rambling now, and Carmen was just staring at you, taking in every word.
“Sorry. Yeah. I’m back in town. Gonna stay around for a while, help my sister out.”
Carmy nodded, his gaze drifting skyward, then to the cars passing on the street, before settling on you again. “Yeah, cool. Your sister, she just, uh…” He snapped his fingers at his side, trying to recall whatever he was going to say next. “She just had a baby, right? Yeah, Natalie told me. At least, I think that’s who she was talking about.”
Nodding, a soft smile on your face, you were about to say something else when the screeching of metal broke through the Spring afternoon, and a door swung open spilling a young woman out into the alley. She was gorgeous, dark braids held back by a patterned bandana, with a kind face that, at the minute, was warped by a frown.
“Uh, chef, we’re gonna need you back in here.” She glanced over her shoulder, back through the door, hands anxiously fiddling with the cloth tucked into her apron. “Like, now. I’m so sorry, person I’ve never seen before, but who I can tell Carmy actually wants to talk to… from the way he’s staring at me right now.”
The woman smiled at you, offering a small wave that your returned. You liked her already. “I’m just gonna…” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and disappeared back through the door.
Carmen turned back to you, sighing. Running a tattooed hand through his hair, still just as unruly as it had been in his youth, he shook his head.
“That’s Sydney. She’s, uh, she’s great. Talks a lot.”
You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets. “She seems cool.”
“She is, yeah. Um, yeah, anyways.”
Silence descended, tainted only by the faint clatter and bang of… whatever was going on through that door. A breeze ruffled his curls, blowing them into his eyes, and he looked like that quiet wallflower again. The boy you’d once known. But as you stood there, taking him in, had he really changed at all?
His piercing gaze caught on yours, but he looked away instantly, almost guiltily.
“Well, I should go. It was… really nice to run into you.” The way he said it, like admitting a weighted truth, made something in your chest tighten.
Nodding, you said your goodbyes, and turned back to the street, continuing on your way home. Though the quick thud of footsteps on the pavement made you pause, and you turned to find Carmen catching up to you.
“Can I see you again?” The question flew out of his mouth before he could second guess it. “To, like, talk, or somethin’?”
“I’d like that.”
#the bear#the bear fx#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#jeremy allen white#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x you
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Sweet lies part two
Pairing •Toji x gn!reader
Warnings• Angst!, Cheating, suggestive (they like lowkey make out), manipulation, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP!, Cursing. Lmk if i forgot any!
Word count • 1079 words
A/n • I had this pre written ever since i put out the first part but was so hesitant on posting it LMAO! Enjoy! Masterlist is pinned!
You knew life after the honeymoon phase was rough but nothing could’ve prepared you for the drastic switch in you and Toji’s relationship. About two months the after you guys got married is when you realized the mistake you made. Your days went from him coming home from work and showering you with affection to him coming in with an inaudible hello. You were confused on what you could be doing wrong. He was coming home to a clean house with food on the table, a bath prepared and you all dolled up for him, just how he liked it. This went on for months and throughout those months he’s just been coming home later and later. The man who was once coming home every day at five now walking through the front door as late as ten at night. It didn’t bother you until your 26th birthday.
You woke up excited to celebrate your first birthday as a married woman. For your birthday last year Toji went all out so you couldn’t help but let your expectations be high! Toji wasn’t there when you woke up, which was normal because he usually leaves extremely early in the morning. You spent your day pampering yourself to the max, expecting to maybe go out later. Soon enough five o clock rolls around. You sit pretty and patient on the couch, telling yourself he’s just running a little late. You wait… and you wait.. sending text after text to your husband every hour.
Hubby💍❤️
5:30pm
Y/n: Hey babe coming home soon?
6:15
Y/n: Toj idk what you have planned but i’m super excited! see you soon❤️
7:23
Y/n: Hey is everything okay??
8:54
Y/n: Hello?
9:46
Y/n: Toji it’s almost 10 where are you?
10:27
Y/n: Toji?
You send your last text with tears falling from your eyes. You hate to think he forgot your birthday. It can’t be. He just got caught up in something. It has to be. You check the time one last time. 11:03. You then tell yourself you need to go to bed. As you stand up from the couch the door opens and the man you’ve been waiting for finally shows. You do nothing but stare at him, tears mixed with mascara running down your puffy cheeks. “The hell happened to you?” he says, taking off his shoes, tie, and blazer. He begins to unbutton his shirt, purple marks adorning his chest. That was in that moment when something in you just… snapped.
“Toji, what is today?” you slowly walk towards him. He shrugs, scratching the back of his head. “Look doll, i’m beat. Can we talk tomorrow?” he begins to walk towards the stairs that lead to your shared bedroom “No. Absolutely the fuck not.” oh crap. did you just say that? he stops in his tracks and turns to you. “Excuse me?” Shitshitshitshitshit what do you say? why did u say that? “Toji i asked you a question. What. Is. Today.” you keep up the tough girl act, too deep to back out now. “Y/n.” he walks closer to you but you back away “Toji today is my fucking birthday. Today is my birthday and i’ve been home all day thinking my ‘husband’ was going to at least come home on time but you were out fucking some bitch!” You begin to yell, crying harder than you were before. “The fuck are you talking about?” You weren’t stupid, you knew he was cheating but who were you to say anything. You were nothing without him. You didn’t want to ruin things. You can’t lose him. “Toji, i know you’re seeing someone else but i at least thought you would have some type of respect or decency to not do this to me on my fucking birthday.”You’re falling apart in front of him.
The silence is strong. He walks towards you and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “Things just haven’t been right with me, i don’t know why i do the things i do. You know how much you mean to me baby, i never want to hurt you.” i never want to hurt you. Those words replay in your mind. He brings his hands to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “You know I love you and only you, right?” you wanted to yell at him. You wanted to kick and scream but something in you made you believe every word he was saying. Instead of doing any of those things you just nodded. Shame rose in you but it all started to fade away when his lips connect with yours. You know this isn’t right, this isn’t healthy but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his neck and letting his hands wander. “I’m so sorry baby.” his lips travel to your neck. You try to hold back sounds but he knows just what to do to get it out if you. “Gonna let me show my girl how sorry i am?” you just started at him. not wanting to say yes but you didn’t want to disappoint him by saying no either.
You have to draw a line somewhere. “I think i just wanna go to sleep…” Removing your hands from him and stepping back. His looks confused but he doesn’t press further. Is it bad that part of you wishes he did? You wished he would’ve showed some kind of kind want, not just wanting to fuck out of pity. You know why he didn’t tho, he already got his fix of pussy for the night and it didn’t come from you. What a shame.
That night you couldn’t sleep, you were up all night silently crying. Is this really what your life was? You had lost yourself in this relationship. Your 26th birthday was a wake up call. The next few days were rough, he was just coming home later and later. Not to mention he wasn’t even trying to hide his affairs, He started to be careless. Not bothering to cover the scratches or hickeys that covered his body, leaving his phone open when you could see messages from the multiple girls and having panties and various other items in his car that didn’t belong to you. It’s like he was trying to hurt you, but isn’t that what he said he never wanted to do?
#anime#toji fushiguro#jjk#jjk thoughts#jjk toji#jjk x reader#jujutsu toji#toji angst#toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#jujutsu kaisen toji#jjk x you#jjk shiu#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#jjk angst#jujitsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen#toji zenin#toji fushigro x reader#toji fic#toji fluff#toji smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu megumi#jujutsu sorcerer
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All of Me
Part 7
(previous part here, next part here)
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You
Summary: Jake shows up when he doesn’t have to and it just makes you want him more.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, ass play, oral (both m & f receiving), femdom kind of?, p in v, idk probably more. Lmk if I missed anything.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
“Look who I found wandering around like a lost puppy,” Bradley says as he enters your office with his lunch on Monday. “Said he was on his way here?”
Jake comes in behind him, looking a little worse for wear.
“Yeah,” you reply, “We talked about it on Saturday, he’s got a little bit of a medical phobia so we’re gonna try having lunch in the medical center and see if it helps.”
“Makes sense,” Bradley nods, buying the ruse. “That’s why you kept putting your physical off, eh?”
“Yeah,” Jake replies, picking at his food.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Bradley tells him, trying to put him at ease, “Can’t say much when I’m terrified of clowns,” he turns to you. “What time is Drew’s game on Wednesday?”
“6,” you pull out your phone to double-check.
“I should be able to make it then. Wanna come?” He asks Jake.
Jake looks at you, not wanting to overstep.
“Drew would love it,” you say honestly, giving him the okay.
“Sure,” he smiles, “I’ll be there.”
“Hey, did you sign him up for that camp yet?” Bradley asks, “he’s been talking about it nonstop and asked me to remind you.”
“Yes, last night. It’s a 2-week sleep-away camp,” you explain to Jake. “I was a little hesitant; he’s only 8 and it’s right after school lets out so I won’t get to spend much time with before he has to leave but I decided to let him go. I never got to do fun stuff like that when I was a kid.”
Jake nods. “Some of my favorite memories were made at summer camp.”
“Agreed,” Bradley says. “Plus you’ll have 2 weeks to all to yourself. Maybe you’ll finally get laid.”
Jake’s trying not to smile as you choke on the water you were sipping. “Jesus Roo.”
He shrugs. “What? Maybe you’d sleep better after getting dicked down.”
“Please stop,” you mutter, hiding your face in your hands.
“I’m just saying,” he continues. “Maybe Jake here could help you out?”
It’s Jake’s turn to choke.
“Just because you’re a manwhore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be,” you tease as you throw a crouton at him.
“I’m not-hang on I’ve gotta take this, it’s Cyclone,” Bradley says, answering his phone as he steps out in the hallway.
Jake gives you a knowing smile as you shake your head at Bradley’s antics.
“…be right there,” Bradley says as he returns a moment later only to grab his lunch and turn back to the door. “Gotta go, he wants to talk to me quick before our hop this afternoon. See ya guys.”
“Bye,” the two of you reply but he’s already gone.
“So what’d you do yesterday?” You ask.
“Not much, just caught up on some laundry. You?”
Missed you. Thought about you all day.
“Cleaned, caught up on some laundry too, and played baseball with Drew and Ron,” you reply.
“You play baseball too?” He asks. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
You smile. “I played a lot of sports growing up,” your smile fades as you continue. “Anything to avoid going home.”
“Understandable,” his foot nudges yours under the desk; comforting you. “Drew’s lucky to have such a cool mom.”
“He thinks so too. For now at least,” you laugh.
The rest of the lunch passes quickly and soon Sophie’s in the door frame letting you know your afternoon is starting.
“We have lunch meetings the next few days, but I’ll see you at Drew’s game,” he says as he stands.
“Sounds good. I won’t tell him just in case something comes up and you can’t make it,” you say, giving him an out if he wants it.
“I’ll be there,” he says softly, looking towards the door before giving you a quick kiss. “See ya.”
“Bye,” you smile as butterflies take flight in your stomach.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
Another package of Reese’s peanut butter cups sits on your desk the following morning, and the next. Knowing now that he avoids the medical unit like the plague, makes his early morning chocolate deliveries even more special.
You’ve texted back and forth a few times but there are lulls in responses from both of you due to busy schedules. So by the time you’re done with work Wednesday, you’re anxious to see him again.
Your phone buzzes as you sit on the bleachers beside Tina and Ron who brought Drew early for warm-ups.
Jake: Our last hop ran late but we’re on our way.
Reese: Sounds good, I’ll save you guys a seat.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
Drew’s on deck when the Bronco pulls in and his face lights up like Christmas morning when he sees Bradley and Jake walking up.
“Look!” He mouths at you once he finds you in the stands, pointing in their direction.
You nod with a smile on your face, blinking back the unexpected tears that spring to your eyes.
Jake always looks good; but his damp hair, tight jeans, and showing up to your son’s little league game has you ready to jump his bones.
“Who’s that with Bradley?” Tina whispers. “He’s cute. Is he single?”
You laugh, happy that her eyes are on Jake so she doesn’t see the way you flush. “His name’s Jake, he’s in Bradley’s squadron. I think he’s single,” you lie.
“I’d hope so with the way he’s looking at you,” she murmurs, nudging you.
She’s always been observant. Too observant.
“He’s younger than me,” you tell her. “Only 30.”
“Yeah. That’d totally make you a cradle robber,” she replies sarcastically with a snort. “Looks like Drew’s already a fan,” she continues noticing the way he waves at him excitedly.
You smile as they approach and have to swallow a whimper when you catch a whiff of his cologne as he sits beside you.
“Hey,” his eyes flick to your lips, and leans in, almost like he’s about to kiss you but he stops himself. The cutest blush rises up his neck.
“Hey,” you reply, wishing he hadn’t stopped. “You’re just in time. Jake, these are my…Drew’s grandparents, Ron and Tina.”
“Nice to meet you,” he shakes each of their hands.
“Keep that elbow up, bud! You got this!” Bradley calls from Jake’s other side. Drew nods as he steps up to the plate, his right elbow up.
He swings at the first pitch, but it’s a miss. The next 3 are balls, and the following is straight down the middle but he realizes it a second too late, his head dropping forward in frustration.
“Shake it off,” Jake yells and Drew’s head pops up and he meets Jake’s eye. “Let ‘er rip it if it’s in there.”
Drew takes a deep breath and nods as he steps into the batter's box.
It’s another one right down the middle. He swings, making contact. You rise to your feet and the ball sails over the center fielder’s head.
“Run!” All of you yell as Drew stands there, stunned.
With that, he takes off. Rounding second base as the outfield recovers the ball. It’s thrown to third as he approaches that base but it’s overthrown.
“Go home!” You call, bouncing on your heels.
He slides in just as the catcher gets it and you can’t see anything from the cloud of dust.
But as the dust clears the ump calls “Safe!”
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
Drew beams the rest of the game; playing better than ever from the confidence boost of his first home run.
Everyone goes with you for ice cream after and Tina gives you pointed looks all night that have you rolling your eyes but you can’t help but smile.
Knowing you have her approval makes your heart feel lighter than it has in a long time.
You type a quick text to Jake while you wait for Drew to buckle in after.
Reese: Do you want to come over tonight? After Drew’s asleep?
Jake: Yes.
Jake: LMK when I’m okay to come over.
Reese: Will do.
“Do you think Dad saw it? My home run? Do you think he’s proud of me?” Drew asks as you pull into the driveway.
His words tug at your heartstrings. He usually brings up Andy when big events like this happen.
“I’m sure he saw it,” you reply truthfully, turning around to look at him. “and I know he’s proud of you.”
He nods and gives you a small smile before heading inside.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
“Can you be good and stay quiet for me?” You murmur later as you bring Jake’s lips to yours for a searing kiss as you reach back to lock the door of your bedroom.
“I’ll try,” he breathes as he rucks your shirt up and over your head. “Wanna be good for you.”
You shiver at his words while he unbuttons your shorts before pushing them down your legs, leaving you only in your pretty lace underwear and matching bra that you put on earlier.
“Pretty,” he murmurs as his fingers trail over your cleavage, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You smile and guide him backward toward your bed, stripping him naked before pushing him gently onto his back, pressing kisses down his neck and across his collarbone. He jolts when you flick your tongue over his nipple.
“This okay?” You ask, looking up at him. When he nods you do it again before giving it a gentle suck while running your fingers over the other.
You play with his chest for a while, seeing what he likes and what gives the biggest reactions; and like he admitted to you before, he likes a little pain.
“Like that?” You ask as you pull your mouth off the sensitive bud, fingers still pinching the other.
“Yessss,” he sucks a breath in through his teeth when you pinch harder; both of them now.
You kiss your way lower, wanting to pleasure him in other ways.
Precum is steadily leaking from the tip and he gasps when you pull it into your mouth with a satisfied hum. Giving him a few sloppy bobs to coat him fully with your saliva before going lower to mouth his sac, enjoying the way he shudders. You wet your fingers in your mouth and sit back up.
“Have you ever been touched back here?” You ask, fingers tracing just behind his drawn-up balls, waiting to hear what he says before going further.
“No,” he shakes his head. “Heard it can be good though.”
“Want me to?” You ask before sucking the head of his cock into your mouth again. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”
He nods, head falling back on your pillow when you start sucking him off again. Once his hands slide into your hair you move your finger lower, tracing a wet fingertip over his tight ring of muscle. His fingers tighten in your hair and he tenses at the first touch eventually relaxing when you begin to circle.
“Fuck,” he rasps when you gently press; the broken sound making you clench. “That-ah…that’s good.”
“Mmm,” you hum around him, taking him a little deeper into your mouth, using your unoccupied hand to stroke what you can’t swallow.
“Ree-Reese,” he gasps, gently tugging on your hair to pull you off. “I’m gonna-can I cum?”
You nod, not letting him pull you off.
“I-where should…fuck!” He pants when you keep going, wanting nothing more than to taste him.
His eyes widen when he realizes your plan. One of his hands leaves your hair and you glance up to watch him pull one of your pillows over his face to muffle his wrecked groan as he cums.
You moan around him at the taste, swallowing each burst greedily, releasing him only when he begins to twitch with overstimulation.
Chest heaving, he tosses the pillow aside, eyes instantly catching on the movement of your thighs rubbing together.
He pulls you over him so fast your head spins; not taking the time to take off your underwear, he just licks you through the soaked lace as soon as your thighs straddle his face.
Your hands scrabble, finding your headboard as he pulls you down further onto his mouth, the grip on your thighs bruising as he eats you out.
When your thighs begin to shake, he slips his fingers inside you, curling them just how you like and that’s all it takes.
You nearly draw blood, biting your lip in an effort to stay quiet as you tremble through your release.
Before you come all the way down, there’s a rip of fabric and his tongue is on you again.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
You don’t know how much time passes (or how many orgasms occur) when he finally helps you off his face.
A glance shows you he’s hard again. Reaching into your bedside drawer you pull out a condom and slide it on him before straddling his hips reverse cow-girl style and sinking down. His hands come around to grip your hips as you begin to ride him.
Just as you’re about to wipe the excess condom lube on your thigh, an idea comes to mind and your slick fingers slide behind his sac again. He bends his knees, welcoming your touch.
Your motions remain the same as earlier as you ride him slowly; circling and pressing, not wanting to push him too far. But when he thrusts up at the same time as you sink down, your lubed finger slips and breaches him.
“Are you-“ you start to ask.
“Fuckkkkk,” he rasps, tilting his hips up in a silent plea for more.
You press further, clenching at the strangled moan that’s ripped from his throat and the way his hips jerk when you find his prostate.
Knowing he’s not going to last long, your free hand finds your clit as you continue to ride him, rubbing fast circles to his slow presses.
“I-oh God,” he sounds wrecked; barely coherent as he tries to tell you he’s close.
“Cum for me,” you murmur as you press more insistently, toeing the edge of your release already.
You fall off the edge when he pulses around your finger, filling the condom with a guttural groan.
•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>
A/N: I think I blacked out when writing the smut.
Anywho🥴, what did you think?
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#jake hangman seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#sub jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x reader#hangman#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman x oc#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw#top gun smut
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King and Prince 19
Part 18
Waking up with morning wood was a wake up call Steve didn’t know he needed. He was able to calm it but now there was a thrumming under his skin. It was like realizing you were hungry and being unable to ignore it. Taking care of it himself was always an option. He had his own room. But he missed being with another person. The thrill of flirtation followed by the ecstasy of coming together as one.
The castle was filled with people. But most either ignored Steve or gave him glares when they passed. It was clear that his family name was causing some grudges and it was only because of Eddie that no one took out their grievances with him. Of the people who didn’t actively hate him, most were children and the other was Robin. She was perfectly lovely with hair that framed her face in a way that caressed her cheeks like a lover.
Honestly, there was a moment where Steve wondered if he was falling for her himself, but her disinterest in men meant she wouldn’t respond to any advances from him. Late one night, when that energy filled him to the brim, he let a bout of madness take him for only a second where he imagined seducing Eddie. In the dark, Steve snickered to himself at the absurdity of it. He was a hospitable host but no one had more reason to hate him than Eddie.
That only left people outside of the castle. People who didn’t recognize him as a prince and thus wouldn’t hold it against him. And Eddie did say that he was no longer a prisoner.
------------------------
Jeff liked to take pleasure in the little things. A nice cool breeze, the smell of warm bread, and the entertainment he got anytime Eddie and Nancy disagreed on things. Nancy was logical and loyal. Everything she did was in the best interests of the kingdom. Eddie, for all his experience, was often impulsive and emotional.
But it was because of this that Eddie often heeded her advice, knowing it came from a place of rationality. To an untrained eye, it may appear that Nancy ran the kingdom. Looks were deceiving. Eddie had years under his belt that most of them couldn’t fathom. It was what made him fit to rule. More important than the great power he held was the wisdom he had acquired.
“You want to be allowed to leave and go out into town?”, Eddie repeated.
Steve stood before Eddie, Jeff, Nancy, and a few others who made up the council. It was a bold thing to ask, given his title and position.
“I’ve been learning about your people and lands. I think I should see more of it for myself.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a scholar of culture”, Eddie brought his leg up to rest his ankle on his knee. He could tell that wasn’t the only reason Steve wanted out, but he also saw no reason to pry besides his own curiosity. The prince had no allies here, not counting the few bonds he’d made within his own walls. Certainly no one with which to conspire against Eddie and his subjects.
“You can’t be considering this seriously”, Nancy said.
“Why not?”, Eddie shrugged.
The others waited to see how the debate would go, keeping themselves silent until each party justified their point. Jeff could see both sides. The prince hadn’t really done anything suspicious to require him to be guarded so closely. Even so, he hadn’t officially denounced his home land nor pledged loyalty to this one.
“Because he’s from an enemy kingdom? Because he could be trying to get you killed or overthrown? I know you think you’re invincible, but try to remember that the rest of us are not”, Nancy said.
“Believe me, I am aware”, Eddie said. “I’m also aware that he has had zero contact with his own people since arriving. And there are no spies in my court. If he wants to go on an outing without having to corral our young wards, I see no reason not to allow this.”
Nancy frowned at Steve. She didn’t see him as much of a threat, merely what he represented and what he was attached to. It was still difficult for her to believe that a king would discard a crown prince. It just didn’t make sense to her. The others began to chime in with why this could go wrong. And many of their arguments were right. This one decision could end very badly. But Steve wasn’t his prisoner anymore. He had already offered to set him free. And it was like Nancy could read his mind.
“Letting him go home and letting him come and go as he pleases are two different things.”
Eddie waved her off. “Semantics. I’ll honor your request to explore, little prince. But you will have a curfew.”
--------------------------
Eddie himself took Steve down to the stables to ensure that the stablehands knew he had the official seal of approval from the king.
“I’ll let you borrow Sunflower here”, Eddie handed Steve the reins.
Sunflower was a beautiful color, almost golden and it reminded Steve that this place wasn’t all dark clouds and shadows. They had beautiful skies and flowers.
“Thank you”, Steve said, petting her mane.
“I want you back before sundown”, Eddie said.
Steve nodded. All in all, a rather generous curfew, given that the days were starting to get longer. He didn’t leave right away though. He went back to his room to get ready, putting on one of the new outfits he’d been given. It was meant for everyday wear so it wasn’t as nice as the one for the festival, but it was definitely good quality. He did his hair, checking in the mirror to make sure it was perfect.
By the time Steve was done, quite some time had passed, but he still had hours before the sun would set. He went to retrieve Sunflower and exited the gates, feeling free as he trotted out.
“Now how sure are we that he’s not just going to ride off into the sunset?”, Robin asked as she happened to catch him leaving from a window.
“Pretty damn sure”, Eddie said, focusing on twirling a fork in his hand.
When Steve got into town, he allowed himself to really take it in. Of course it was a sight to see during a celebration, but it was also lovely now too when people were just going about their business.
Back home, Steve never had to search far for a partner. Even the most frigid had melted when a crown prince gave them his attention. But he couldn’t just announce that he was royalty. That would end in disaster.
No, if he wanted to find a lover for the evening, he’d have to rely solely on his wits and charm. Thankfully, he had both in abundance. He figured a tavern was a good place to look and he found one. He tied Sunflower up outside and ventured in. Only about three steps in did he realize he had no money but he kept up his stride. This was where the charm came in.
There was a young woman at the bar, nursing a drink. Her hair was cut short, in a similar style to Nancy’s but much curlier. Her brown skin was complimented by her gold earrings and made it apparent that she appreciated the finer things. She looked up as Steve approached and smiled.
“Mind a bit of company?”, he asked.
She nodded to the stool next to her. “Help yourself.”
It was easy to take a seat and slip back into old habits, even easier when his conversation partner was a beautiful woman who had no idea who he was. He hardly even had to lie. All that mattered was that he was new to the area and looking for a bit of fun. She caught on quick and luckily had a room in the tavern they could go to.
Afterwards, Steve wanted nothing more than to bask in the afterglow, but he knew he couldn’t linger too long. He didn’t want to mess up what little goodwill he had from Eddie so fast.
On the way back, he was already thinking of his next outing. Who he might find and what kind of person they may be. Maybe if he behaved, he could convince Eddie to let him spend an entire night out. There had to be a place for entertainment other than drinking such as dancing. And perhaps he’d even find a regular lover and not -just a part time bed mate.
---------------------
Eddie resisted the urge to put eyes on Steve when he left the first time. He only kept his regular sentries that monitored the castle gates and walls. He knew when Steve left and knew when he returned but that was it. He tried not to think too hard about what he was doing and with who.
For all he knew, Steve was going to the tavern to drink his troubles away, playing cards with old men, or knitting with old ladies. Eddie had no idea what kind of hobbies Steve had back home but he could be a knitter.
The first time Eddie saw Steve after one of his excursions was about two weeks later. And there was only one way to describe Steve’s condition after reveling in whatever delighted him in town.
He was glowing.
Part 20 coming soon
Taglist
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From Past to Present
tasm!peter x reader
Words: 1189
Prompt #21: “You are really drunk right now. I don't want you to regret this." " am not drunk. You are just blurry."
Authors note: rewatched TASM2 this week so have reignited my love for tasm Peter and Harry Osborn
Peter and you had been close. Growing up together, you were practically inseparable. But, as most kids do when they get older, you lost each other somewhere in the middle with your friendship faltering during high school. Too many lies, too many excuses were told until you just split.
But now you were both adults and you were trying to rebuild that friendship.
You knew he was a busy guy, you’ve invited him to hang out with you before and he’s either, a), always apologetically made up an excuse, or b) left not even twenty minutes after he’s arrived. You didn’t really expect much from him but you were actually surprised when he finally agreed to a night out drinking together to catch up and he stayed the whole night.
You started the night at the bar and ended up just walking around the city trying a few different bars along the way back to your place. You thought the whole ordeal might’ve been awkward but surprisingly you had tons of fun. You would say Peter felt the same as he was currently passed out, his arm draped over yours as you let him into your apartment.
You hadn’t expected him to get so plastered. To be fair he never seemed like the type but here he was, eyes practically shut as he hunched over and you quickly guided him to your futon.
“Alright there you go,” you said practically letting his heavy body fall onto the soft material.
He slumped over to his side and you made a motion to leave the room but he sat up, “wait…I can’t stay here,” he said groggily.
“It’s fine Peter, I’ll just take the floor.”
“No,” he waited a moment passing by before he continued, “I have to go. What if someone needs me?”
You raised a brow at his question, “who’s gonna need you at one in the morning?” You asked smiling at the silly question while he went back to his side.
You heard him mumbling still, “someone needs me…” he drifted off and you took that as an opportunity to change your clothing and brush your teeth. You came back with a bottle of water setting it to the side.
Squatting down to his face level you brought your hands crossing them over your knees as you observed him.
You couldn’t believe Peter was here, you couldn’t believe you spent the whole evening together. It reminded you of those times he’d slept over when you were little. You missed those moments.
And sitting there, staring at him, you wondered if he ever did too? Did he ever think about how happy he felt when you were together? Did he ever think about how technically you were each others first kiss? Did he miss you? You then remembered the tiniest crush you had on him back then.
But you shook the thoughts before it could make your face turn dark.
At your motion Peter’s eyelids opened tiredly.
“Oh hey,” he muttered while you grinned back.
“Oh hey,” you copied and he grinned, shifting your attention, you reached for the bottled water before offering it to him but he denied.
His cheeks lifted as he laughed a drunken laugh, “you know this is wild.”
“What is?”
“Us spending time together…I’ve missed being with you.”
Your eyes fell to the floor as you shared the same feelings but it wasn’t your fault the distance between you grew. You weren’t the one who separated from him in high school, you weren’t the one who was too busy to attend any of the invites.
“I wanna spend more time with you,” he says and your ears perk up. “I want to spend more time with you too.”
You watched as he gulped down saliva with his eyes closed again, “there’s something I should tell you,” you nodded showing you were listening.
“But it’s big. And I mean really big. This is only for your ears and your ears only.”
Is this it? Maybe you weren’t the only one who was feeling some sort of way all those years, all this time. But then you started to thinking what if it was the alcohol talking.
“Wait,” you said holding your hand out, palm open and fingers spread out in front of his face, “you are really drunk right now. I don’t want you to regret this or say something you’ll regret tomorrow.”
He reached up pushing your hand away, “am not drunk. You’re just blurry,” he laughed and you did too.
“But I’m serious I am not going to regret this not, now not ever.”
Hesitantly you lowered your hand and stared at him with a head nod. “…what is it?”
He smirked his eyes closed again as his hand reached up pulling the collar of his shirt down exposing red material with stripes seemingly going down it.
“I’m Spider-Man.”
Okay now that is not at all what you expected from the man. It took you a beat to collect yourself as your face went from scrunched and confused, to jaw dropped, to blinking profusely.
“I’m sorry what?”
His eyebrows raise as he gave you that smile, “oh I think you heard me.”
He was right about that.
“Why do you think I don’t have any time for anything. I’m too busy playing hero.”
You were about to ask why he told you but it seemed like he was already reading your mind.
“I just…don’t want you to hate me anymore.”
That line—that almost broke your heart. “Peter I never hated you, sure I didn’t appreciate how you would blow me off all the time or how you would make excuses…but I never once hated you.”
Peter smiled, his eyes still closed, “good…” he said and you peeked at his face, pretty sure he was dozed off now.
You didn’t know what to do with this new information except accept it and move on. You made sure he was nice and cozy before you shut the light off and then you went to sleep.
When you woke up, your apartment was quiet with no one there except you.
“Great catching up with you too Peter…” you whispered as you grabbed a bowl to pour yourself some cereal.
Honestly his excuse was a pretty good one, you gave him that. As you chomped on the flakes you pulled out your phone pulling up his number and pressing the call button.
Pushing the speaker you set your phone down as you put a spoonful of cereal in your mouth while the number ringed.
It rang. And rang. And rang. And just when you were about to lose hope, click.
“Hey—“
“Peter what the hell? You just drop a bomb on me then leave like nothing?”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t—“ you heard a loud thrashing noise from his end, “—talk right now.”
Okay maybe it was a great excuse.
“Can I call you later?”
“I work.”
“What time do you get off?”
“Four.”
“Okay I’ll see you then!”
“Peter—”“
“See you at four!” He shouted as the call ended leaving you alone with your cereal again.
Dialogue Prompts 2
#peter parker imagine#peter parker fanfic#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker x reader#tasm!peter parker imagine#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm peter x reader#tasm!peter imagine#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#dialogue prompt 2
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So I’ve been thinking about your metatron is Satan theory and how Crowley, the Angels and Adam see what they expect to see and idly wondering if it’s sort of the same for all demons. We have multiple versions of Crowley and Bildad, and lots of theories as to why, but what if it’s as simple as the various characters see what they expect and so we the viewer see variations? Beez getting a new face may throw a spanner into that idea but it just seems to me that if this is the plot twist in season three then the different versions of Crowley may be a clue… anyhow your meta was brilliant and wanted to toss my poorly thought out 1am musings at you to see what you thought.
Hi there @thavron! Hope you're having a great weekend so far. 💕I've been thinking again about bees a bit as a result of your ask so there is baklava for a honeyed dessert. Love your thoughts-- they've been tickling my brain for a few days now. 😊
If you're meaning: do we all sometimes see people as we want them to be or who we think they are, rather than who they actually are... then, yes, I would say that fits in with the recognition themes the show has going on.
To an extent, we all do this, right? And the show about angels and demons is really about the messy and amazing business of being a person. All the angels and demons are people, just like the humans. We all put on a performance in society to some extent. Our clothes, our grooming choices, how we speak, how we walk, eye contact, body language-- all of this is a performance. It's a construct that we get up every morning and do. Awhile back, we were looking at the choices David Tennant is making when it comes to Crowley's walk in different time periods-- especially when Crowley takes the stage to help Aziraphale in 1941-- and how the walk is representative of how comfortable he feels in society in different eras. That's just one aspect of things but, yeah, we're all showing one face to the world as a whole but those we let in often get to see another one.
I think that, for the most part, this holds true with angels and demons. Satan is an exception to the rule because he's Satan and actually evil so he is capable of the dubious kind of magic that the other characters don't really do. Satan will possess someone without consent, for instance. It's not hard to see that he would steal someone's physical appearance to mask his own as he already stole the voice of Freddie Mercury in S1 (which I also think is another clue to the idea that it's not actually The Metatron at the end of S2, as we've seen Satan do something like this before already.)
I think that the rest of the demons see what we see when they look at one another, on a physical appearance level. As you pointed out, Crowley can see that Beez has a new face in S2 so Crowley sees Beez's physical presentation as how we see Beez's physical presentation. He also can recognize Shax when she's bouncing around humanoid forms outside the bookshop in the mid-part of the season. There are different versions of Crowley because Crowley has lived on Earth forever and is just blending in with different societies (and he also gets bored lol.) I think that's one aspect of the recognition theme in the show because what we see when we look at each other and how that informs our ability to recognize ourselves seems like a big thing in the story.
I think S2 is talking about recognition on several different levels. We have recognition in terms of how every character on the show is really desperate for someone to tell them that they're good and that they're doing a good job. Beez's only solo scene in the whole season is actually about that and it parallels Aziraphale's anger, embarrassment, and frustration over Heaven's treatment of him. Everyone's a bit Norman from S1 who wanted a watch and some kind words and to bugger off and go tend to some marigolds but whose company wouldn't let him go and dragged him into a paintball Armageddon lol.
It's only natural to want recognition, really, as we all want to be noticed and seen for what we do, but it also underscores a bigger theme of that how we see ourselves can impact our ability to fully see others... but also how if we open ourselves up and allow room for curiosity and empathy, our ability to see others as they are allows for more open, honest, communication... and how that's good for all of us. That way lies peace-- both inner peace and peace with others.
In almost every major scene in S2, at least one character is trying to recognize at least one other one in some way and it's often literally recognizing the person. There is no one character in the series who is flawless at this and that's because they're all people representing us and none of us are flawless at this, are we? At recognizing ourselves or at fully seeing others at times without our own bullshit getting in the way? Even those of us who consciously try to be open, empathetic people struggle with this because we're people. The angels and demons are no better or worse than any of the humans and their story is actually about the messy but amazing business of being a person, which they all are.
If and how the characters recognize others around them in S2 reflects how those characters see themselves and the world around them. It's a matter of perspective and it's not one-sided because how we present ourselves to the world reflects what we're willing to share and sets up expectations that some others might take at face value but that might not be true. Other, more open-minded people might be able to see through those walls, though, if they're in a place to do so.
Ineffable Bureaucracy are the cleanest example of this (and one of the funniest) because here you have in Gabriel a character that you don't expect would be as open-minded as he is. In a lot of scenes in S1, we saw him putting on airs to cover up his curiosity and empathy as a means to survive. Yet, he has one of the smoothest recognition challenges in S2.
At first, he doesn't recognize Beez with their new face but, once it's established that this is the being he likes greatly, he doesn't think twice about it. Gabriel looks like the kind of guy who would care about appearance of others because he's a bit vain about his own but he literally could give a fuck that his partner changed up their face because what matters to him more is that it was the same person inside.
The guy who seems like the shallowest character on the show-- and, in some ways, is-- is actually also one of the least shallow. He also knew without question that he could trust Aziraphale and Crowley and went to them for help intuitively, even without consciously remembering them. Gabriel is actually a pretty good judge of character, all things considered. In S2, we learn more about him and as the characters recognize that he might not be quite who they thought he was, it's on us to see that we can think that, too. Our perspectives can evolve with a bit of empathy.
Lord Beezlebub also shows that they can be good at recognizing truth in others, too. One of the best moments of recognition in S2 is when Beez sees Gabriel's vanity for the loneliness that it masks when he takes them to see the statue of himself. Most of us, honestly, would probably run screaming from a guy who took us to show us art of himself and bragged about how beautiful it was but Beez gets it. They see Gabriel then even more than he sees himself a bit. They see that he really took them here because the statue is all he feels he is to people and he's being crushed under the weight of being revered like a god by humans and angels alike. He's just a lonely dude with no friends and more heart than he lets on.
The statue scene is also the punchline to the joke started earlier in the season during The Resurrectionist minisode, though, right?It calls back to Crowley saying that Gabriel probably came to the statue to "stare at it for hours" and "marvel at his own beauty." Crowley wasn't wrong, exactly, but he also wasn't fully correct, either. He didn't understand totally why Gabriel might really come to the statue, which Beez later would understand.
Crowley is one of the best judges of character in the series but S2 showed just how much his blindspot is his trauma, like it is for a lot of people. Crowley took almost the whole season to see Gabriel for who he is and he had reason to distrust him, sure. His fear of the situation is reasonable and understandable but it also shows a narrowed perspective. It showed how it was hard for Crowley to admit to himself that maybe Gabriel has been as trapped as he and Aziraphale have been-- that maybe he's as much of a victim and a survivor of all of this as they are-- because they've spent so long ascribing blame to him instead of considering that maybe he, also, had no way out. Recognizing Gabriel means Crowley recognizing and dealing with aspects of his trauma that he'd sometimes rather avoid, which made it harder and caused it to take longer for the two of them to get to a point of actually talking. When they do, we see them recognizing each other's suffering and showing each other empathy. The end of S1 is Crowley spitting hellfire in Gabriel's face but the end of S2 is just him all ugh ok fine...
Growth lol.
We also see how history can provide context that can inform the ability to recognize others as well. Aziraphale has a longer, more complicated history with Gabriel than Crowley does. Aziraphale had more reason to suspect that there could be more to Gabriel than he always let everyone see, especially since there are a couple of scenes in S1 without Crowley but between just Gabriel and Aziraphale (the sushi restaurant and the Sandalphon exchange at the bookshop) where it seems like Gabriel is trying to protect Aziraphale as best he knows how and that Aziraphale seems aware that he's trying to do that. It's how Aziraphale arrives first at "I don't think he has any friends" and thinking that Gabriel needed him and Crowley, especially since he had shown up alone and vulnerable.
Aziraphale also sees the benefit of trying to get Gabriel and Crowley to talk to one another-- not in a would-benefit-Heaven-and-Hell sort of way, just in the sense that they are more alike than they realize and had been through similar things. That's a form of recognition as well-- acknowledgement of a person's pain and needs when they've not had that from others. Aziraphale is proven correct and his ability to see both Crowley and Gabriel for who they are and who they can be is admirable and shows his empathy and open-mindedness.
But mah point is that it's scene after scene of recognition... Gabriel's entire plot. Muriel shows up at the door, doesn't recognize Aziraphale. Crowley can't remember (or chooses to pretend he can't remember) Furfur and Saraqael. Michael almost recognizes Gabriel in the bookshop. Shax is desperate for Satan's recognition for her job performance-- but also for Crowley's attention. Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets wants everyone to see him as a leader. Maggie feels unlovable and just wants Nina to notice her, all while failing to recognize that what Nina wants is for someone to notice that she's in pain and to lend her support... this is all off of the end of S1 and the body swap plot in which Crowley and Aziraphale literally stayed alive by being able to recognize one another on different levels so astutely that they could impersonate one another. (Another hint, imho, that maybe the mirrored end of S2 might feature another character who seems like one character we know but who is actually another with The Metatron-is-actually-Satan idea.)
Even the little moments of the season have recognition woven into them. Do we know a Jim?, Maggie and Nina's first scene is kicked off by Nina recognizing Maggie as a regular and remembering her coffee order...
Maybe the sweetest moment of the whole season is a scene highlighting Aziraphale's struggles with reconciling his own needs in the face of having been taught he's not to want anything for himself and Crowley recognizing that struggle and supporting Aziraphale by telling him he's already perfect as he is. Damn straight I'm including the gifs I love this damn scene lol..
But the big scene that parallels the arrival of "The Metatron" in The Final 15 is the angels failing to recognize Bildad the Shuite coming through the door, right?
When Crowley comes in as Bildad the Shuite to the group scene in the Job minisode, Gabriel, Michael and the other angels fail to recognize Bildad as Crowley entirely because of the things Crowley later explained to Muriel as his analogy around bees. The idea is that context, imagination and ego inform our ability to recognize someone (and also ourselves.)
Contextually, it made more sense to the angels in that moment for Bildad to be some weird human than it did for him to be a demon working to save the lives of Job's children. This is one of the main reasons why the angels don't recognize Crowley-- they simply don't see a scenario where there would be someone to recognize. It's just like how Michael initially doesn't assume that the person who comes through the door in 2.06 could be anyone they should care about-- because they're on Earth, in a bookshop that is open to the public, so the unexpected person who came through the door must be a human person shopping for books.
Context also includes appearance and one of the things I loved about the other angels failing to realize that they know Bildad is how it contrasts with my favorite bit of recognition in S2-- Aziraphale instantly recognizing Crowley from a distance, after over 500 years, and with Crowley looking completely different. The second Aziraphale actually looks at the demon he's telling to avaunt! on outta there, he knows it's Crowley. The jump from the Crowley of The Flood to Bildad the Shuite is huge. Crowley even has sunglasses on for the first time chronologically in the scene and Aziraphale's just like "it's you." He would recognize the love of his life anywhere.
As far as the ego part goes, all Gabriel cared about in the Job minisode was a scenario that didn't undermine him and which got all the boxes checked on their assignment so when Crowley and Aziraphale present him with that, Gabriel is happy to shut down any minor opposition to the truth to go with what he is presented with-- in large part because of ego. Aziraphale and Crowley flatter Gabriel into submission to their plan. Gabriel eats it up and because he has the power in the scene, Michael's suspicions are not given credence for more than a moment.
Michael also lacks the imagination to figure out what could actually be going on and takes what they're told is the truth too easily because, like most know-it-alls, they actually don't really feel like they know anything. They defaulted to Gabriel's "they can come at any size" comment so easily not just because he had the power in the scene but because they suddenly doubted themselves and let someone else tell them how they were to think.
Michael's lack of imagination and tendency towards purely literal thinking is also on display when they are shown to not understand Crowley's shoes joke. They sense shenanigans are afoot but don't exactly know how and they also seek to look impressive to the boss so they jump in that "'Shuite', of course, means 'from the land of 'Shua'," which is correct. It does mean that. Michael is not wrong but they just are so sheltered by life in Heaven and so lacking in imagination that they also lack sense of humor enough to hear the homophony in Shuite/Shoes. The only angel who gets the joke is, of course, Aziraphale.
So, a lack of imagination (which is also a lack of big picture and creative thinking), a reliance upon context, and the perils of ego are why the angels didn't recognize Bildad as Crowley in 2500 BC and are also what Crowley is explaining to Muriel with his bees analogy.
It wouldn't actually occur to the angels as possible that there could just be a demon roaming around in Heaven because they're all too caught up in themselves to consider the possibility, right? To admit that it's possible is to admit that maybe they themselves are fallible and don't know everything. Angels are taught that they are near to perfection and should behave in that way so it's hard to think of themselves as having weaknesses that might need to be addressed. They all know they do have them but they can't admit it or they're admitting at failing to live up to the impossible standards of Heaven.
Many of us have trouble admitting that the point is that we're all here to learn and be curious and we aren't meant to know everything and that things would be less fun if we did. We struggle to admit when we've gotten something-- or someone-- wrong. People who have an inability to see a bigger picture are also sometimes blocked from doing so by their own trauma and issues-- as Crowley himself proves.
Sometimes, people just aren't that imaginative or haven't had the opportunity to use their imagination, as Crowley sees in the angels. The point is that none of us are perfect in our ability to recognize ourselves and those around us. If we all just continue to try to do so and keep a curious, open mind about each other, though, it leads to more peace for everyone. It means we're talking to each other more, which is the healthy way forward.
So, if the whole season is using these characters to talk about our ability to see ourselves and others and if it has us watch scene after scene of recognition or lack thereof between the characters where we feel like these characters might not know what's up but we sure do, right?...
...we knew Gabriel was telling the truth about his memory loss... we knew the Inspector Constable at the door was the angel from the Job minisode... we recognized Lord Beezlebub with a new face... we definitely knew who came through the door and called himself "Bildad the Shuite"...
...wouldn't it then be a kicker if the end of that season is to prove the point by showing us that we're all actually as infallible as these characters are? That we're all bees, too?
And how would they do that?
Possibly by presenting us with a character we think we can recognize but which, if we look a little closer, we might realize is not quite who he seems to be.
#ineffable husbands#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#aziracrow#good omens 2#good omens meta#good omens theory
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Specifically thinking of a fic where one of the old men at the bathhouse that Togame loves to visit introduce him to you— a pretty girl that works in the local tea shop they like to frequent.
And you hate Shishitoren and everything they stand for, so you’re confused why the old man has introduced Togame to you. While the rest of the town is thankful to have a gang like that protecting them, you think it just makes everything worse.
But one evening it’s pouring down with rain, and you see Togame lazily walking through the streets in it, feet soaked from his sandals and blood pouring out of a wound on his eyebrow; staining the white gi he wears crimson.
You invite him in, even though he’s dripping blood and water all over the freshly cleaned wooden floor as you sit him down in front of a warm cup of tea. Trying to stop the blood from oozing out of the gash, positive he needs to go to the hospital.
“Nah, no hospitals, sweetheart,” He shrugs, “I’ve been through worse.”
And you’re certain he has, if the worn scars that litter his skin are anything to go by— but you don’t exactly want him passing out on your floor.
So you patch him up as best you can, and sit with him until the rain eases up and he’s ready to leave. Not that he wants to leave now— after spending time with you.
And the next morning he’s already back. He says it’s to pay for the tea after pulling out a small coin purse from his pocket— surprised that he’d bother when everyone knows Shisitoren don’t pay.
But there is something about him that seems different. As though he’s not quite like the other power hungry men in his gang. And so you start thinking he’s quite sweet.
Until one evening he knocks a guy within an inch of his life for attacking you on your way home. Holding your face in his bloody fists as he checks to see if you’re okay, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. But you’ve already began to wonder how dangerous he really is— and it’s the first time you look up at him with fear in his eyes.
And Togame despises it.
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Hello, Yuri! Now that I’m personally out of finals hell, I’ve got something to ponder over. I want to double back to the idea of Yuu having their own variants of the twst boys.
“As for Yuu avoiding them... I could see that. It would feel weird seeing someone you love so much only for it not to be them at all.” This. This right here is where it’s at. The torture of a stranger wearing your beloved’s face. The guilt of having to look this person in the eye knowing that your boy is probably worried sick waiting for you to come home. To always have a part of you expecting that fond gaze whenever your eyes meet, only to be disappointed by the realization that it isn’t him. Maybe even to have a nickname always on the tip of your tongue, waiting for one slip up to come out.
How long would it take for Yuu to crumble and (against their better judgement) seek out comfort in the arms of that imposter? An imitation of the comfort Yuu found in their boy. And this isn’t even considering the fun that could be had with the twst boy finding out that a version of him exists in Yuu’s world.
-🦐
context
AHHHHHHHH
That genuinely depends on the Yuu I should think, it also raises the question of whether or not Twisted Wonderland has a version of Yuu or if they're unique to their world. I could see Yuu trying desperately to figure out where the other Yuu is, maybe because they want to pass the buck on all the overblots or because they think it's unfair that this stranger with their friend's face is showing interest in them that's meant for the other version of themselves. Or maybe Yuu got the proper isekai treatment and truck-kun really did kill them, so this imitation is the closest they'll get to being with their guy again.
I've been thinking about Yuu's World! Vil a lot recently with the jp Chapter 7 updates. Vil says he's more relaxed when he's alone with his friends, that he's much more touchy and we know how supportive he can be of other people wanting to be their best selves. I picture him being overworked but still somehow smiling, the closest Yuu gets to seeing that same smile is after he overblots and still performs for the VDC, but they can't say they're happy to see it. They want their Vil back, their Vil whose look they tried to mimic when getting ready that morning pretending that he was the one who did it. That they still remember what it was like to be touched by him, loved by him, seen as human by him and not whatever this Vil sees them as. This Vil was very caught up in focusing on the VDC, so much so he ignored almost everything around him but he noticed how... in tune, with his inner thoughts and self Yuu seemed to be. It was like they knew him, not the super model, or the actor, but that inner truth he's so afraid of in himself. He wants to hear them say he's beautiful more than anything in the world, he feels like they would truly mean it so he's beyond frustrated that something is holding them back. Before the VDC he just assumes he isn't beautiful enough. After words he just assumes it's because he doesn't know them that well, who knows how he would handle the truth.
I like the idea of Halloween, or maybe something like an eclipse or a solstice making the veil between worlds thinner, and allowing someone from Yuu's world to briefly visit Twisted Wonderland in the form of a sort of ghost. Given how selfish the guys are I don't think they'd take kindly to someone trying to take Yuu away from them, even if it's a different version of themselves. For some (azul) I think that might actually make it worse...
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Hello! I really like the way you write ;) can I see the OCD reader's girlfriend? (she is very paranoid, constantly checking everything, checking the house for hidden cameras, checking things and sometimes throwing tantrums because she thinks she is being watched) characters: Lucifer, Adam
A/N: Thank you. I did a bit of research about OCD, so hopefully I’m not appearing ignorant or anything. I know everyone’s experiences are different, but do tell me if I’m inaccurate.
Also, I know you only specified paranoia, but I added a couple of other things, too. I hope that’s okay. This somehow could all be read platonically.
Warnings: Adam being Adam (he’ll be quite insensitive here and possibly triggering)
———
Lucifer, and Adam w/ a Reader who has OCD
Lucifer
• I don’t think Lucifer would even know that the word mental health exists
• wait, no, scratch that—he explicitly said he has depression
• actually, y’know what, maybe he heard the term depression through Lilith or something
• because there is just no way he knows what mental health is
• he’s been a hermit ever since the beginning of humanity (after he got banished)—how would he know?
• but, uh, anyway, back to the headcanons—
• he doesn’t know you specifically have OCD
• he just thinks what you’re doing is pretty normal since he’s also neurodivergent himself, so he relates to some of the things you think or do
• he’s very supportive
• he healthily alleviates your worries
• he never pushes them away or make it seem like you’re overreacting
• but, uh, constantly reassuring you would very much drain him
• Lucifer is also a man who requires many reassurance
• one of many habits you picked up is constantly checking up on the guy since you know he also has issues himself
• it gets worse if Lucifer’s depression takes a massive decline
• you’re constantly knocking at his office door, calling out his name to make sure he didn’t…
• uh, Lucifer usually doesn’t have the energy to respond during those times, so your worry doubles further
• this is unfortunately not an uncommon occurrence
• moving on, you two often try to get the other to come back to bed (you both struggle with sleeping)
• be it because of your compulsive behaviors or him hyper-fixating on finishing his rubber duck projects that you both lose track of time
• so what happens if it happens to the both of you at the same time?
• uh, it’s just not good
• you two will regret it the next morning
• you two are basically barely functioning together, but are trying to be better for each other
• and for Charlie, too
———
Adam
• I don’t think Adam would notice anything at first
• but if you two see each other quite often (maybe living together), he would pick up on some of your quirks
• he would hate how particular you are about many things
• like, what do you mean it needs to be like this? What do you mean this needs to be exactly like that? And what do you mean that has to be like this? Why can’t it just be the way it already is?
• your anxiousness also irks him
• like, why are you like this? You live in Heaven, for fuck’s sake! Why are you so worried?
• he, uh, “reassures” your paranoia not very healthily
• “Oh, that? Pshh, you’re fineee.” “Don’t worry ’bout it.” “Stop being so paranoid.” “Jeez, you’re overreacting.”
• it’s even worse if you’re bothered with things such as messes since Adam definitely does not have cleanliness as a trait
• his home is usually cluttered unless he uses his powers or gets someone to do it for him
• if you have trouble with time management, don’t worry about accidentally waking Adam up late at night ’cause he has a shitty sleep schedule
• you also don’t have to worry about that since he’s probably a heavy sleeper
• actually, he probably either sleeps in until the afternoon or takes afternoon naps after a sleepless night
• those times when he’s awake at ungodly hours are when he notices your habits
• if you don’t want any of the behavior I’ve mentioned, please educate him because he will most definitely not do it himself
• don’t be afraid to speak your mind because he obviously can’t read it
• but he won’t exactly make things easier for you
• unless it’s convenient for him
• he’ll just tone himself down a bit (his words, I mean)
• but he’ll slip up from time to time because he’s just very used to not being mindful of the things he says
• overall, just know that he’ll get annoyed and frustrated with you at times
• ...uh, yeah
• maybe you just shouldn’t be around him
#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer x reader#adam x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel adam#kinopiowrites
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Hey y’all! I’m here, despite a shitty flare up of my fibro this week. I appreciate all of your art and writing so much, you have no idea! Thank you to : @emeryhall, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @cutestkilla, @bookish-bogwitch, @best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog,@rimeswithpurple, @Iamamythologicalcreature, @artsyunderstudy, @theearlgreymage
Here’s one from each of my official WIPs
From Saving Simon Snow:
“What did he add?”
She thinks for a bit longer, but then shakes her head. “I don’t remember. We’ll have to ask him.”
“Ask me what?” comes a voice from above our heads. Baz is there, looking sleep tousled and heavy eyed. A knot of longing forms in my stomach and I suddenly want to drag him back into our (our!) bedroom and tumble him back into bed. I restrain myself, because I don’t really understand where Baz and I stand right now, and because Penny’s sitting right next to me.
From the Heart in the Well
“Simon,” I breathe, “[Redacted] is one of the fae! Fairy kind disappeared centuries ago!”
Now Simon’s smile drops away. “Yeah, well tell him that. At least I know why we’re here now, though. It’s so stupid—you’d think it’d be safe to eat a loaf of bread someone left out on their porch.”
Now I’m shocked and annoyed. “You mean you ate a fucking fairy offering, Snow? What in Morgana’s name is wrong with you?
From Snow Fox: enter Premal
“Word has it,” Gareth drawls, as he strolls into camp, “a passel o’ Tory boys is lookin’ to sign up with the Snow Fox. Turning their coats, as it were.”
Penny lifts a skeptical brow from where she is sitting in the corner of my tent. She’s been poring over what we’ve gathered on British movements for the last several hours, and her eye has developed a bit of a twitch. “Says who?” she asks.
“Says Premal Bunce,” Gareth says. “Ran into him at the tavern.”
From TikTok Dancer:
.I frown for a moment about the freckles. How does he get enough sun on his arse for freckles? He’s got no visible tan lines…
I shake my head at my woolgathering. He’s probably a devotee of tanning salons, that’s all. Though it’s odd, I think, as I trace an outline of the constellation Leo by connecting some of his many markings.
From Stars, Flowers, and Children,
He’s not looking at me now that he’s said his piece. His jaw is locked, and his arms are crossed over his strong chest, which is heaving from exertion. He’s staring out over the horizon with a fixed look on his face. Probably pretending I don’t exist.
And I don’t. I don’t exist to him now. And it’s my own damned fault.
From Cupid’s Shield:
It’s 12:30 pm on February 14th, and the day has been so unseasonably warm that most of the school has taken their luncheon out to the Great Lawn to picnic in small groups. Penny and I are no exception.
I spent my entire morning in a pleasant glow of happiness, thanks to my mysterious Valentine sender.
I think, whoever she is, she’s grown more skilled each year, because this morning’s card looked worthy of being displayed in a museum. I couldn’t do more than gape at it, for a long moment. I think I also wanted to delay touching it, because the feelings trapped inside have become more potent as each year has gone by. And it’s started to really bother me that someone in the World of Mages loves me so much and I’ve got no notion of who she is. It feels unfair, unbalanced or something.
From my COBB project:
Penelope Bunce and Christie McCoy take the second room on the left without comment. That means, since Rhys and I are sharing the first room on the right, that Simon Snow and Baz Pitch are left to share my old room, the second on the right.
I don’t know if the two men expected to have rooms to themselves, but there’s definitely some odd subtext to their interaction when I offer them the final room with a silly flourish. They don’t laugh at me. They don’t even look at me. Instead, they’re eyeing each other intensely. Snow looks uncertain for the first time, and Pitch looks…if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks scared.
What’s there to be scared about in a bedroom?
Baz
And now we’re roommates again. Lovely.
I’m also itching to start another WIP because I had a super angsty (meaning fun!) idea. But I must be good…if I finish Heart in the Well, I’ll let myself start it. The only teaser I’ll give now is it starts with an (apparent) major character death 😉 .
Tags and cheers to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @messofthejess, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @larkral, @confused-bi-queer, @j-nipper-95, @facewithoutheart, @nightimedreamersghost, @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold, @nausikaaa, @ileadacharmedlife, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii,@you-remind-me-of-the-babe,@hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @prettygoododds, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello, @wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart,
#co/ws/awtwb#six sentence sunday#snowbaz#carry on through the ages#cotta 2023#carry on reverse bang#simon snow series#egf 2024#COBB 2024
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