#so i thought it was better to do it today!
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strange perfections
in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!
fluff!
warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz
a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses
The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.
Stupid scarf, you think.
Stupid door.
Stupid wind.
Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.
You look at the stack of papers and sigh.
Stupid Lord Byron.
Stupid cafe.
Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.
One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.
Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.
Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.
Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.
Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.
As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.
It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.
Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.
“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.
“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”
The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.
“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”
You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.
Think of something normal to say!
“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”
You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.
“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”
You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?
“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”
He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.
“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”
Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?
But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.
“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”
He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”
You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.
All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.
Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.
“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.
“How did you do that?”
His cheeks turn slightly pink.
“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”
“How did you read that fast?”
“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”
You scoff, taking another look through the stack.
“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”
The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.
“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”
Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.
“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”
“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.
“Does that make it better?”
“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”
You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.
“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.
“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”
“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”
He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.
He was totally in love with me.
And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.
All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.
The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.
I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.
What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi!”
Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.
He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.
Spencer. Spencer.
It feels important.
“I see you’ve upgraded.”
“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”
“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”
“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.
Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.
Spence.
Reality sets in.
“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”
It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.
“I am a creature of habit.”
Another wave as he walks away.
The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.
“Who was that?”
“Uh… I don’t actually know.”
Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.
Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.
Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.
Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.
But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.
He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.
This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.
“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”
Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.
Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.
“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”
You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?
While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.
“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.
“Uh… hi?”
“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”
“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”
That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.
“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”
“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”
“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”
What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—
“Garcia!”
Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.
Adorable? Get a grip.
“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”
“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.
You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?
“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.
“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”
“Yeah! Um, definitely!”
“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”
“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”
“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.
Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.
So that’s cool.
You’re cool with that.
Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.
“Hotch?”
“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.
“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.
Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.
You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.
Nah. Boys are dumb.
You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.
It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?
But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.
He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.
Weird.
You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?
“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”
It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.
He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.
“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”
“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”
“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”
“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”
He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.
“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”
It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.
“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”
“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”
Your brow furrows and you laugh.
“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”
“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”
You say it before you can think too hard.
“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”
And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.
After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.
One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.
It ceases. And then it starts again.
Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.
“Do you think you should…”
His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.
“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”
You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.
But his job is important.
“What if you have a case?”
“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”
Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.
“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”
As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.
“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”
Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.
You balk.
“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”
“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”
“Where would this hanging out take place?”
Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.
“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”
He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.
“Restaurants.”
There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.
“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”
You look down. God, your face feels warm.
“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”
Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.
“I would.”
More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.
Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.
“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”
“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”
Spencer chuckles.
“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”
Not, what?
Not, you’ve never been on a date before?
Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?
With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.
He says none of that.
“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.
“Sounds like a good first step.”
Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.
“I’d love to.”
He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.
“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”
His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.
“I should—”
“You definitely need to go.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”
You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.
“I don’t—”
“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”
He’s so weird.
A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic
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Brat (JJ Maybank x Reader)
It’s not like you mean to be a brat sometimes it just comes out. You know JJ doesn’t like when you’re rude and you’re good- at least getting better- at controlling your mouth but your facial expressions need work. So that's how you found yourself with JJ’s hand firmly on the back of your neck, pushing you into the chateau after sneering at something John B said.
“How many- How many fuckin times do i have to tell ya to fix your damn face huh? I ain’t playin with you today. Get your ass in there”
Yup you’re screwed.
He bullies you inside, smacking the globe of your ass all the while.
“JJ.. I’m sorry, I-“ you’re cut off as he roughly grabs your face, making you squeal.
“Yeah… Yeah you’re boutta be REAL sorry here soon dolly. You know where I want you c’mon.”
And you do, assuming the usual position on the bed, ass up, cheek against the undone bed. He comes up behind you, rough hand pushing your face into the mattress even more. “I keep tellin you kitty to play nice huh? don’t need you bein a bitch to my friends.” JJ emphasizes his words by pushing your face harder, making you cry out.
“Shh shh shhh” he utters condescendingly, while flipping your flimsy skirt up, rubbing the now exposed flesh. “don’t want them to hear how much of a bitch ya are for papa hmm?”
You screw your eyes shut, whimpering softly. He’s right, the pouges are right outside and any loud sounds would be sure to make their way to your shared friend’s ears.
Your thoughts are cut off by the sharp sting of JJ’s hand colliding with your ass, feeling the flesh jiggle at the impact “Answer me” he barks.
“n-no!!” you wail. JJ grins.
He pulls your head up by your hair, leaning over you, lips pressed against your ear. “Now, you’re gonna be good for me hmm? gonna take this dick then, ya gonna walk this ass,” he grabs a handful tightly, making your eyes roll back, “back out there n apologize”
“Y-Yes im sorry!” you say.
“mmm save it, you’re not sorry yet.” JJ says, as he throws your head back down. “Don’t even wanna look at ya right now, got me pissed the fuck off, that what you wanted?” He unbuckles his pants and ties the belt around your neck like a collar, using the long tail like a leash.
He rams into you, making you let out a garbled scream as he pounds into you, teeth bared giving you his all.
“Yeah, this is what you needed. Gotta get the bitch fucked outta ya don’t ya? Fuckin whore.”
The tight belt around your neck makes your head swim, all you can feel is JJ… JJ… JJ.
“Nah nah nah what’s my name kitty?”
You hadn’t realized you’ve been saying that aloud but with the way your blood circulation has been cut off, you can’t realize anything other than his dick deep in your guts. “D-daddy-y-y” you whine out, speech almost incoherent with the rhythm of his bruising thrusts.
“That’s right kitty, I’m your daddy, I’m your fucking daddy… jesus kitty you’re squeezing the life outta me SHIT you’re such a WHORE”
His harsh words make your eyes roll back, the only thing keeping your face up is JJ’s pull of the belt. The moans you let out are staccato, more like high pitched grunts, long nails clawing at the belt but not tapping out yet.
“O-oh man, you gonna cum kitty? don’t lie to me, can fuckin FEEL it” JJ spits out.
You nod vigorously, unable to speak, pushing back against him as best you can.
“FU-Uck yeah kitty cum with me c’mon” he let’s go of the belt, the rush of blood back into your head makes you squirt around him, screaming his name between gasps of breath as you flop onto the bed. JJ growls as he empties inside, thrusts slowing but not stopping making your toes curl with the overstimulation.
“There ya go kitty hmm? don’t that feel better?” He rubs your back as you let out little gasps and twitches.
After a while, once he’s calmed you down enough, he’s helping you clean up, getting you into comfy PJs.
“Okay mama, you good?” he holds your face in his hands, lifting it up casually to inspect your throat, a red rim of his belt mark makes him feel just the tiniest bit bad. He massages it as you croak out “‘m good now J”
He hums in response, “A’ight then, up you get, there’s some apologies ya gotta make now hmm?”
reblogs n likes apreciated! lemme know ur thoughts are requests
thank you to @rafeysdoll (ofc) @siriusly-star-crossed, @monkichixo for proofreading!
#jj maybank x reader#animatedglittergraphics-n-more#outer banks#jj maybank#jj maybank imagines#jj maybank blurb#jj maybank fic#rudy pankow#rudy pankow x reader#rudy pankow fic#rudy pankow smut#jj maybank smut
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Unrequited Love
A/N: I had to get to the airport to return a rental car like 5 hours early so I’m so sorry for the pure amount that I’ve been posting today but as a socially awkward girly, if I’m on my own phone then for sure no one is going to talk to me.
Anywho here is some angsty angst about day court!reader and Azriel. I’m thinking of making this like a mini series but idk who reader would end up with. (Let me know if you have any suggestions!)
Forgive any typos I wrote this on my phone.
Warnings: none
WC-1.4K
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My blood was boiling beneath my skin. Azriel has been complaining for the better part of an hour about Rhys gag order regarding Elain. I was trying not to roll my eyes as I had reached my wits end with his lamenting.
“I just don’t understand why he needs to meddle in this. I get she’s Feyre's sister but he doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in his chair. “I just can’t help but think that sometimes the cauldron gets it wrong.”
His words were spoken so plainly. Anger wanes for a second as I swear I could feel my heart break inside my chest. The words seemed to echo in my head Maybe the cauldron gets it wrong. I almost would have rather had him carve out my heart with truth teller.
“What do you think?” He asks me and I sit reeling over his words. I can’t think of anything to say to him. The comforting words I would normally have for him can’t get past the anger starting to cloud my vision. So I simply shrug, avoiding the question. Desperately trying to change the subject.
“So this new book I’m reading…”
“Oh c’mon.” He interrupts me. “I know you have something to say. And I trust your advice more than anyone else. There isn’t anyone else I would rather talk to about this.” His eyes softened as he looked towards me. Instead of melting under his gaze like I normally do, red bites at the edge of my vision.
“I think you should leave her the hel alone.” My tone is not gentle. He freezes.
“What?”
“She has a mate already. And regardless of if you think the cauldron got it right. Lucien is the one mated to Elain,” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “And Lucien is a wonderful male who has been through a lot of shit. He deserves someone as sweet as Elain, if she ever comes around. You should stop meddling.”
His mouth opens, when no words come out, he closes it again. You see the muscles in his jaw tick as he clenches his teeth.
“What has gotten into you? When did you become Lucien’s spokesperson?” He spits at me. His face starts to get closer to mine as he leans over the table, slowly starting to rise to his feet.
The sane part of me is telling me to stand down. That one of the most powerful warriors in all of Prythian was starting to get angry at me. My mate was starting to get mad at me. But I would not cave under his intimidation.
“I became his spokesperson when you showed no respect for him. Or for Elain.” I noticed I was starting to get to my feet. “What about what she wants? She doesn’t owe you anything more than she owes Lucien. Rhys told you to stay away from a girl you feel entitled to and now you want to mope like a petulant teenager. Grow up Azriel.” He flinches before something stoney sets in his eyes.
“At least I’ve actually told her how I felt. What about you?” My stomach drops into my knees. “Sitting and pining over the same person for a century.”
“You knew?” My voice was nothing more than a whisper. This was not happening. I should have left when I had the chance.
“It’s not like you tried to hide it. I thought at some point you would get the hint that it wasn’t going to happen but yet there you always were trailing behind me like a sad little puppy.”
My hands on the table started to glow faintly. My anger was finally breaking through the surface.
“You asshole. You stupid Illyrian bastard.” The smirk that graced his face fell instantly. “After everything that I’ve done for you, you want to use my feelings for you as some fucking weapon against me.”
Even I was surprised at the venom in my words but I was on a roll. “I sat by for five hundred years. I sat by as you pined over Mor, someone I consider my sister. I felt that bond go unreturned.” He completely froze at my words. Words I have never spoken out loud to anyone.
“Wait-“
“No. You get to hear this shadowslinger.” I pressed my finger to his chest and he stepped back like I had hit him. A small part of me wishes I had. But this. This right here is why Rhys kept me around. I didn’t need to throw a punch to put someone on their knees.
“I followed you around like a lost puppy and you loved it. Every second of it. I was stupid enough at some point to believe that it was because you felt it too. And I couldn’t get away from those feelings,could get away from you. Every time I tried I would damn near drive myself crazy and then you would smile or say some funny joke and I was right back to where I started.” I willed the slight shake in my voice to disappear. “You just wanted to feel important because the one you truly loved wouldn’t have even entertained the thought. Took other males into her bed, but not you right? So why not go for the next available thing. Me. Who cares if I got hurt? Who cares that I still fucking loved you through all of it? Not you clearly. You played me like a fucking fiddle and I played my part well.”
When I finally looked back up at his face I saw nothing but a shell of the male that stood in front of me. Even his shadows had retreated from his side. Looking down I realized they were sitting at my feet. I pushed down the glimmer of something I didn’t have time to think about at the sight.
“Please. Just stop.” He pleaded.
“Why? Because it hurts to hear? Fuck you. “And you think that didn’t hurt me too?” I watched him pale. “You didn’t think it killed me to feel that empty weight in my chest every time I looked at you. Everyday that I waited and wished that you would feel that stupid bond I’ve had to live with for the last two centuries.”
He gasped at my words cutting me off
“You never told me about that. I just thought it was… I don’t know… I thought it was a crush like how I felt with Mor”
A muscle in my jaw ticked. “I shouldn’t have had to! The whole point is that you feel it too. Bonds aren’t supposed to be one sided but for some gods unknown reason, you didn’t,” I felt the anger really starting to boil over.
“Every time I heard you rambling on and on about how perfect Mor was, about the females you took into your bed. I sat by all of it, for what? Three sisters for three brothers?!” I was screaming now, my hands shaking by my side
“What happens when she’s all fixed up too Azriel? When she feels this same thing I feel when she looks at Lucien. Onto the next one for me to hear about I guess . Always on the sidelines. Always the sweet face to come back to at the end of the day but never the one you want to be with.” I took a deep breath for the words about to come out of my mouth, steeling my nerves.
“I’m done. With this. With you. Fuck this entire gods damned city. I will not sit by and play second to whoever you deem worthy enough for the rest of my life.”
He held up his hand like he was going to reach up for me but the light that was glowing off my skin was warning enough.
“Where will you go?” Was all he had the nerve to say.
I let out a cold, twisted laugh. “Anywhere but here. Hel I could finally go home. Helion has
been asking me to come back for years now. All I know it will be somewhere where you can’t come and ruin another half a century of my life. Because that’s what you did. I wasted all this time on someone I knew wouldn’t love me. But I can agree with you on something, Azriel.” I paused long enough to see the hope in his eyes as he whispered “what?”
“That sometimes the cauldron does get it wrong.”
I walked out of that room with my head held high
#acomaf#acosf#acotar fanfiction#azriel acotar#acotar#acowar#azriel angst#azriels kinda dick in this one#I promise I love him but this popped into my head#azriel x reader#azriel x you#no happy ending#a court of thorns and roses#i make no apologies#well maybe a little
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I have a james request !! The morning after an argument with him and you expect it to be kind of awkward but he just comes up behind you and gives you the tightest hug ever :(
there's a balminess to the air that you associate with summer, the hot months where there's not enough beach days and there's a very obvious shortage of ice cream to brace the heat.
except it isn't summer, there is no need for beach days and the heat isn't from the sun, but it remains in small tendrils of the argument you and james had the night before tickling at your feet.
you don't know how to bridge the gap to him and it feels like he's a million miles away and not just in the kitchen.
you want to say, 'i'm sorry for starting an argument over things you can't control. and i didn't mean that you care more about work than you do about me, i was upset and lonely and i felt like we weren't on the same page.'
it's suffocating to not be on the same page with james. you almost always are- except last night. your chest tightens at the thought of james still being upset.
tears prick hot and heavy behind your eyes as you hazard a glance at him from your spot at the footwell of the stairs. you wish he would turn around so you could get a glimpse of his face; just to see how much upset is still there.
just to see if today is the day where james is finally annoyed with you and decides that he's had enough. that he decides he wants to be free of your nagging and your needing him and everything else.
james saves you from any further spiralling when he greets you with a dimpled smile. it fades just as quick as it spread, concern threaded through his eyebrows at the sight of you digging your toe into the hardwood and rolling your bottom lip between your fingers.
"hey, what's wrong, angel?" his arms are open to you immediately, and you hesitate to rush into them. james opens and closes his hands to you and you acquiesce.
"i'm sorry for last night," you say into his chest and james sighs.
"we already apologised to each other angel. we had a misunderstanding and we were being too stubborn to listen to each other,"
"me more than you." you cut him off to say. james tsks.
"arguments happen, m'heart. we work through them and now that we know what's wrong, we can be better yeah?"
you nod. "you weren't thinking that i was being a bitch?"
james laughs, full body chuckling as he buries his face into your hair. "no, lovey. i'm sorry i haven't been at home as much, but this week i'm going to work on it. okay?" james' hands are cupping your neck, thumbs drawing circles just under your chin.
"i'll try to not hold everything to myself. and tell you when it's bothering me." james nods, fully satisfied.
"do you want to come have breakfast with me? i cut up all your favourite fruits and there's even your favourite for breakfast." god how could you ever think this man could ever despise you.
"yeah, but i'm making your favourite for lunch, jamie." he grins, dimple back out in full force, his shoulders slack and his heart full to bursting of love for you.
"whatever you want, lovey."
#jamespotter#james potter#james potter fanfiction#james potter one shot#james potter imagine#james potter drabble#james potter blurb#james potter fanfic#james potter fluff#james potter fic#james potter x black reader#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter x yn#james potter x y/n#james potter angst#james potter headcanon
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Of parsnips and parsnip soup
So the question of parsnips, and particularly parsnip soup, came up secondary to this quote from an interview with Terry Pratchett. (Thanks to @captainfantasticalright for the transcription.)
Terry: “You can usually bet, and I’m sure Neil Gaiman would say the same thing, that, uh, if I go into a bookstore to do a signing and someone presents me with three books, the chances are that one of them is going to be a very battered copy of Good Omens; and it will smell as if it’s been dropped in parsnip soup or something in and it’s gone fluffy and crinkly around the edges and they’ll admit that it’s the fourth copy they’ve bought”.
And when @petermorwood saw this, he immediately reblogged it and added four recipes for parsnip soup.
These kind of surprised some folks, as not everybody knew that parsnips were an actual thing: or if they were, what they looked like or were useful for.
The vegetable may well be better known on this side of the Atlantic. (And I have to confess that as a New Yorker and Manhattanite, with access to both great outdoor food markets and some of the best grocery stores in the world, I don't think that parsnips ever came up on my personal radar while I was living there.) So I thought I'd take a moment to lay out some basics for those who'd like to get to know the vegetable better.
The parsnip's Linnaean/botanical name is Pastinaca sativa, and in the culinary mode it's been around for a long time. It's native to Eurasia, and is a relative to parsley and carrots (with which it's frequently paired in the UK and Ireland). The Romans cultivated it, and it spread all over the place from there. Travelers who passed through our own neck of the woods before the introduction of the potato noted that "the Irish do feed much upon parsnips", and in the local diet it filled a lot of the niches that the potato now occupies.
You can do all kinds of things with parsnips. The Wikipedia article says, correctly, that they can be "baked, boiled, pureed, roasted, fried, grilled, or steamed". But probably the commonest food form in which parsnips turn up around here is steamed or simmered with carrots and then mashed with them: so that you can buy carrot-and-parsnip mash, ready-made, in most of our local grocery chains.
It also has to be mentioned that most Irish kids have had this stuff foisted on them at one point or another, and a lot of them hate it. (@petermorwood would be one.) I find it hard to blame anybody for this opinion, as one of the parsnip's great selling points—its spicy, almost peppery quality—gets almost completely wiped out by the carrot's more dominant flavor and sweetness.
Roasting parsnips, though, is another matter entirely. They roast really well. And parsnip soups are another story entirely, as it's possible to build a soup that will emphasize the parsnip's virtues.
So, to add to Peter's collection, here's one I made earlier—like yesterday afternoon, stopping the cooking sort of halfway and finishing it up today.
I was thinking in a vague medioregnic-food way about a soup with roasted bacon in it, but not with potatoes (as those have been disallowed from the Middle Kingdoms for reasons discussed elsewhere. Tl;dr: it's Sean Astin's fault). And finally I thought, "Okay, if we're going to roast some pork belly or back bacon, then why not save some energy and roast some parsnips too? The browned skins'll help keep them from going to mush in the soup."
So: first find your parsnips. I used four of them. You peel them with a potato peeler...
...sort of roughly quarter them, the long way...
...then chop them in half the short way, toss them in a bowl with some oil—olive oil, in this case—spread them on a baking sheet, and season them with pepper, coarse salt, and some chile flakes. (I used ancho and bird's-eye chile flakes here.)
These then went into the oven for about half an hour, and came out like this.
While that was going on, I got a block of ready-cooked Polish snack bacon out of the freezer.
On its home turf, this is the kind of thing that turns up (among other ways) sliced very thin on afternoon-snack plates, with cheeses and breads. But we like to score it and roast it to sweat some of the fat out, and then use it in soups and stews and so forth.
So I scored this chunk on most of its sides, browned it in a skillet, then shoved the skillet into the oven for twenty minutes or so. Here's the bacon after it was done.
While it was cooking, I made about a liter of soup stock from a couple of stock cubes. If you can get pork stock cubes, they'd be best for this, but beef works fine.
This then went into the pot and was brought up to just-boiling while the bacon and the parsnips were chopped into more or less bite-sized chunks. After that, the meat and veg were added to the pot and the whole business was left to simmer for a couple of hours while I went off to do some line editing.
Finally I turned it off and left it on the stove overnight (our kitchen is quite cool, it was in no bacteriological danger from being left out this way) and then finished its simmering time around lunchtime today.
And here it is. (...Or was. It was very nice.)
...Anyway, this is only one of potentially thousands of takes on parsnip soup. Recipes for more robust versions—based on mashed parsnips and more vegetables, or different meats—are all over the place.
Meanwhile, as regards how much damage this soup could do to your copy of Good Omens if you dropped yours in it, I'd rate this at about 5 damage points out of 10. ...Call it 5.5 if you factor in the chiles. Soups along the boiled-and-mashed-parsnip spectrum would probably inflict damage more in the 7.50-8.0 range. But your results may vary: so I'll leave you all to your own experimentation.
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The Family Business Ch. 10
WandaNat x Reader
Word count: 3.4k
Ch.Notes: no notes this ch
Summary: Natasha and Wanda have a talk about their feelings for you. After that emotional conversation they meet you at the hospital to visit Dragos.
An: If I were to say things get more real next chapter how would you feel...
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
The rest of the work day drags for Natasha and Wanda. Both women having other things on their mind. However, with Kate and Y/n out of the office on a hectic day like this, they couldn’t afford to dwell too much.
“Sestra, can we call it a day? I've never taken this many calls in my life,” Pietro barges into his sisters office.
“If you want to go home, then go,” she waves her hand dismissively at him.
“What’s got you so snappy?”
When Wanda’s eyes meet Pietro she’s glaring at him, “If you haven’t noticed I’m trying to run the company our father built on my own.”
Pietro raises his brow, “On your own? Discrediting my work is normal for you, but to act as if Y/n wasn’t running this place last night is bullshit.”
“Well she’s not here now,” Wanda mumbles under her breath.
“Why? Where is she?”
Wanda can’t hide the small clench in her jaw, “Kate took her home. She wasn’t feeling well.”
“She’s in good hands sestra if that’s what's worrying you,” Pietro tries to console her.
Wanda doesn’t want to speak about it any further, “I’m going to see papa whenever I’m done with this do you want to come?”
The way that Pietro's goofy features turn serious never cease to amaze Wanda, “I can’t tonight, I have a date.”
Wanda rolls her eye, “You’d rather get laid than see our father?”
Pietro shakes his head, “No, but this isn’t just some girl. I want this to be serious and I can’t afford to stand her up.”
The red head is slightly surprised, but she nods along, “I’ll tell him about it, I bet he’d be glad to hear you taking something seriously for once.”
He chuckles a bit before going quiet. He looks at Wanda similar to the way a needy child looks at their parent.
“Do you think he’ll wake up?”
“He has too,” the words are heavy as they leave her lips. She has a small smile placed on her face as she continues, “Mama will kill him if he doesn't.”
“Don’t work too hard sestra,” he speaks sincerely taking his leave.
“Enjoy your date,” Wanda says as he walks out of the door.
When he leaves she lets out a heavy sigh. For the first time today she lays her head down on her desk, exhaustion starting to plague her.
Thoughts of her responsibilities as the person in charge rain down on her. This was the end goal that she wanted, but never at this great of cost. She wished her father would wake up and reclaim his place because she didn’t feel ready.
She was focusing as hard as she could, but her mind always strays to her brother’s best friend. Your delicate skin pressing against hers in the morning or the strong arms that wrapped around her waist, or those doe eyes that she could sense staring at her.
Wanda debates for a moment before pulling out her cell phone and dialing the girl. It rings for a while before there's finally an answer.
“Hello.”
“Hey, little krolik. I just wanted to check on you. Nat told me you went home today,” Wanda keeps her tone level.
You sigh on the other end of the line, “I’m ok. I think I just got a little overwhelmed. I’m sorry for stepping out, I know that's not how we do business.”
“It’s no different than me leaving yesterday. This line of work takes a toll on you.”
She can’t see it, but you nod, “I’m feeling better now. I still want to go see pa- Dragos. Maybe I could have Kate drop me off and I’ll meet you two there?”
“You’re with Kate?” Wanda can’t stop herself from asking the question.
“Yeah she took me home and decided to keep me company,” you say nonchalantly.
“I could’ve taken you,” Wanda tries to play it cool.
You disagree with her, “I didn't want to bother you while you were working. It was a hectic day, truth be told I didn't even want to leave.”
Wanda’s tone is strong as she speaks, “I will never be too busy for you Y/n.”
“Wanda-”
“I mean it. I know I’m supposed to move past it, but I missed a lot while I was gone. I couldn’t be there for you like I wanted to. Now that I’m back I’d like to be there for you as much as I can. I still want to be the one you lean on,” Wanda let herself be vulnerable with you.
You were taken aback by her admission. It felt like it was impossible for you to come up with a response. It wasn’t like she was saying something you hadn't heard from her before, but her words felt heavier somehow.
“I know you'll be there for me, Wanda . You don't have to prove it.”
Wanda frowns lightly, “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just- it’s hard knowing I’m not the first person you come to when you’re in need. I know you've grown out of needing people for the most part, but I don’t know. I’m not making any sense. Nat and I will meet you at the hospital.”
Wanda doesn't give you a chance to respond as she hangs up the phone. She scolds herself about how needy she sounded during the call.
“I think I’m finished up for today, whenever you’re ready to go,” Natasha strolls into the office.
Wanda stares at the computer screen for a moment, “I should be ready in half an hour.”
Natasha plops down on the couch of her wife’s office. It’s silent for a moment until Nat shifts on the couch which makes noise fill the office.
“So, do you want to talk about it?”
“ About what?” Wanda keeps her attention on the screen.
“What I said about being jealous of Kate?”
Wanda’s brow furrows, “Not particularly.”
Natasha strides over to the woman’s desk chair and places herself in Wanda’s lap. Wanda’s arms loop around the woman’s waist holding her in place.
“We need to talk about this moya lyubov,” the spy places gentle kisses on the base of Wanda’s neck.
The other woman whines, “Why?”
“Because we’re married and you’re in love with Y/n,” Natasha states plainly.
Wanda rolls her eyes, “You were jealous too.”
Natasha nods, “I was and I don’t have a problem admitting it.”
Wanda’s face buries itself in the crook of Natasha’s neck, “So what does this all mean?”
“I like her too,” Natasha states bluntly.
“ I don’t want to lose you,” Wanda’s voice is small as she speaks to her wife.
Natasha softly places her hand on Wanda’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet, “You will never lose me Wanda. I married you because I’m completely, utterly, madly in love with you. That feeling hasn’t gone anywhere.”
“I love you too,” Wanda’s eyes shine as they bore into Natasha’s.
“ I think we should think about what it would be like to add Y/n into our relationship dynamic,” Natasha speaks, but it sounds like a question.
Wanda tenses briefly, “I can admit that I have feelings for Y/n, but I don’t know if I can act on these feelings Nat.”
“Why not?”
Wanda closes her eyes, “I’ve known her too long, Nat. She’s the same age as my little brother, not to mention she's his best friend. If she doesn’t feel the same way, this will ruin everything.”
“Detka-”
“I don’t know if it’s better or worst that we both want her. How would we even tell her Natasha? I don’t want to lose anymore time with her,” Wanda begins to get emotional.
Natasha cups her wife’s face in both of her hands, “Baby, I know you’re scared. This is scary, I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that you love her and I think I could too. We’ve spent so much of our lives sacrificing for others, but I’m ready to sacrifice something for my own sake, aren’t you?”
“I am, but not at the expense of my relationship Y/n. I just got her back, Natasha. I’m not saying I never want to tell her, but I can’t do this now,” Wanda tries to turn her head away from her wife.
Natasha doesn’t let her, but instead places a soft kiss on her wife’s lips. Wanda relaxes under Natasha’s touch, feeling all of the stress of the day seeping out of her body.
“ Don’t hide from me, Wanda. I want you to share your feelings, I won’t ever judge you,” Natasha whispers against the taller woman’s lips.
“I don’t want to disappoint you. I know you’re ready but-”
Natasha shakes her head, “It’s not just about me, it’s about us. I don’t want to push you to do anything you aren’t ready for. If you want to pursue Y/n, I’m with you, but if you don’t, I'm still with you.”
Wanda nods softly, “I want to, but I- I need time.”
Natasha kisses her again, “Whenever you’re ready baby. Now finish up so we can go.”
“You’re not going to move?” Wanda questions her wife.
Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh, “ You can’t work around me?”
Wanda scoots herself into the desk. She slightly pushes Natasha to press into her further. The spy’s head is in the nape of Wanda’s neck.
“I can and if I’m being honest it’s my preferred method of doing work,” Wanda begins to focus on the computer again.
She works diligently with her wife in her lap. Having Natasha there makes her work go by a little faster and feel a lot less stressful. She finishes up within the hour.
Once she’s done Wanda shoots a text to Y/n saying that they were headed to the hospital. The girl replies saying she’ll meet them there.
Natasha drives, one hand on the wheel and the other holds Wanda’s hand. Her thumb caresses the back of the passengers hand trying to provide comfort, knowing that this was not an easy task for her.
Wanda had only visited her father once. She hated seeing him in such a fragile state. It almost didn't feel like he was her father. He couldn’t be the same man that took her to the city fair, the same mam that placed flowers in her hair, the man that invested his entire life in her dreams, it couldn’t be. This wasn’t the man that kept her safe from her nightmares, because looking at him in this state was beginning to feel like one.
When they arrived they went inside the building.
“If you don’t tell me what room he is in you won't live to the end of the week to regret it,” you argue with the receptionist.
Kate’s behind you her hand resting on your shoulder trying to pull you out of the conflict.
“It’s family only mam, one more outburst and I will have security throw you out,” the receptionist said causing a vein to pop in your neck.
“Is there a problem here?” Natasha speaks up first.
“Nothing that concerns you,” the receptionist snaps at the spy.
You interrupt, “You don't talk to her like that.”
Before things escalate any further Wanda slams her hand on the receptionist’s desk with her card under her palm.
“Now tell me what room my father is in, “ Wanda’s eyes look fiery as she stared at the receptionist.
The receptionist looks at the card bestie her eyes go wide, “Terribly sorry for the mix up Mrs. Maximoff, didn’t know she was in your company.”
Wanda peers down at the receptionist, “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. I don't ever want to hear you address either of these ladies in a disrespectful manner again.”
“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff sorry about that. It won’t happen again. He’s in room 286,” the receptionist looked ten sizes smaller.
You can’t help but give the woman a death glare as you head towards the elevator. Kate stops you on the way.
“I’m going to head home are you going to be alright?” Her eyes subtly glance in Wanda and Natasha’s direction.
“I’ll be fine Katie,” you reassure her.
“Ok just checking. Text me later and make sure you're taking care of yourself,” Kate pulls you into a tight hug.
The sound of someone clearing their throat ends your hug with the doe eyed girl. Kate smiles at you upon the release of the hug, she then waves goodbye, leaving you with the married couple.
“And you’re sure you and Kate aren’t dating?” Wanda can’t help, but comment.
You roll your eyes, “Positive, Katie and I are just friends.”
“What did you do after you left work ?”
You all pile into the elevator as you answer, “Nothing really. We just watched some tv and ordered some food. How was it at the office?”
Wanda goes to answer but Natasha stops her, “No work talk out of the office.”
“Well then what are we going to talk to Dragos about?” You attempt to joke in hopes of brightening the mood.
“ You can call him Papa you know?” Wanda takes her time looking at you.
“I know-”
She cuts you off, “Mama too.”
You nod to yourself, “I know, it’s just not my normal.”
Natasha speaks up, “It honestly feels like you’re fighting against their names when you say them. Mama and Papa sound natural coming from you."
“It feels like they are my parents.”
“They are,” Wanda grabs onto your hand as you approach Dragos’ room.
The air feels different when you enter the room. It’s hard to look at him in such a state. He lies still on the hospital bed with machinery hooked up to him. There are less machines than originally, but still too many in your eyes.
Flora sits by the side of the bed with her hand in his. The view is somber, it takes nearly everything in you not to cry. Almost as if she can sense the tension building in your body, Wanda squeezes your hand.
“How’s he been Mama?” Wanda’s moved closer to her mother’s side, dragging you with her.
“The same, but the doctors are saying that's a good thing for now at least,” she sighs heavily.
“And how are you Mama?” You ask looking over the woman’s features.
Flora sends you a small smile, “I’m tired sweetheart, but I’ll live.”
“Have you been going home?” Wanda questions further.
“To shower and change clothes.”
Wanda’s voice takes a stern tone, “Mama, you need to rest.”
The older woman shakes her head, “I can't leave him for too long.”
“He wouldn’t want you spending all your time here,” you say softly.
“It’s not about what he wants for once. If he didn’t want me here he would’ve listened when I told him going to meet Fisk alone was a bad idea,” she glares at her sleeping husband.
“I’ll have his head for this,” Wanda gets agitated at the mention of Kingpin.
“Blowing up the ports wasn’t enough?” Flora comments.
“Power move, just to prove that there are no cracks in our business affairs,” Wanda’s jaw sets.
Flora looks at her daughter, “He’s not going to take this lying down.”
“I know.”
You squeeze Wanda’s hand to reassure her, “ We’ll be ready for him."
Flora lets out a sad laughter, “You sound just like him Y/n.”
“ That’s a compliment for the ages. I hope I could be half of the person he is,” your gaze falls into your lap.
“You already are. You kids have always made us both so proud.”
You desperately want to ask more about Dragos’ condition, but you refrain. The conversation stays light as you reminisce about the man.
Natasha doesn't say much, but her presence does provide someone to share with. She's hearing most things about her father-in-law for the first time. She's getting a good look into the man he is.
She pays attention to the way you and Wanda both light up when sharing stories. It warms her heart to see the two of you looking genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.
When it’s time to go the mood drops a bit, but not too much. It’s when Natasha goes to follow Wanda and Y/n out of the room when Flora stops her.
“You make sure they're taking care of themselves,” Flora hugs the redhead and whispers in her ear.
Natasha nods, “I will Mrs.Maximoff.”
They head home after that, exhaustion finally catching up to them.
A small dilemma plagues your mind when you get home. Part of you wishes to go with Wanda and Natasha into their apartment where you know you can get a good night's rest. The other part of you tells you that you shouldn't make it a habit. It's a lose-lose situation.
Begrudgingly you decide to go to your own apartment.
“I’ll see you guys later,” you try and give a small goodbye.
Wanda grabs your forearm, “You can come over tonight, if you need to. No matter the time. Alright, little krolik?”
Your eyes shift over to Natasha who smile, showing agreement with her wife, “The door is always open for you.”
You struggle to keep your composure, “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”
Your house feels extra empty as you enter. The weight of the day sets into your system. Getting ready for bed seems pointless as you know you won’t be getting any sleep.
Staring at the ceiling seems different, knowing that across the hall was the woman that you had spent your teen years pining over. Yet, knowing that she could love you didn’t make your heart flutter like it was supposed to. It sent an anxiety running through your chest.
You knew that she was probably curled up in the bed next to her wife. Her drop dead gorgeous, kind hearted, Russian spy, wife. A woman in a league of her own, in her own right.
The thought didn’t make you jealous, but it had an adverse effect on you. You wanted to be there, to be involved, to be a part of what they had.
You groan placing a pillow over your head in a dull effort to quiet your thoughts.
Your phone rings on the dresser and you pick it up, and mumble a hello with the pillow still over your head.
“Come over.”
“Natasha?”
There’s a hum over the line, “Yes, are you coming or do I need to come get you?”
You shuffle out of the bed, keeping the phone to your ear, “Is something wrong?”
“Well-"
She’s cut off by her wife, “Come to bed little krolik. I need the extra warmth.”
Natasha chuckles, “Wanda refuses to sleep in your absence. She’s getting a little grumpy.”
“ I’m not grumpy. Tell her to hurry,” Wanda argues with Natasha.
This makes your heart flutter like it’s supposed to, “Are you sure it’s ok Nat?”
“ Lisichka I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you back in our bed.”
You feel a blush take over your features as you exit your home.
“ Ok, open the door,” you murmur and it takes no time for the spy to let you into her home.
Natasha looks exhausted as she grabs you by the arm and drags you wordlessly to the bedroom.
Wanda’s already in the bed and when she sees you she does a grabbing motion towards you. You shake your head before climbing into the bed. She wraps her arm around your waist and snuggles closer to you.
“You sleep here now. It’s better for all of us,” She mumbles against your skin.
“Ok,” you don’t fight her on it, knowing she’d probably forget in the morning.
You look up at Natasha shyly. She still stands over the bed. In a similar fashion to Wanda, you stick out your arms for her.
Natasha grins as she climbs into your arms. You carefully drape your arm over the spy, resting your hand against her flat stomach.
For the second night in a row you find yourself comfortable in their bed. You all think about how you shouldn’t indulge in this feeling, scared it won’t last.
It’s like the couple can read your mind. Wanda’s hold on you tightens and Natasha turns to face you. They keep you safe in their embrace and the thoughts in your head quiet.
No one says anything, but you all feel it. There’s a shift in your relationship and you won’t be able to ignore it for much longer.
Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader
#lowkeyerror#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#wandanat x reader#wandanat#kate bishop#pietro maximoff
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long reaction to the update
ok. so they put out an update video! since i've been commentating for the last three days i might as well subject you all to more of my thoughts today.
main takeaway: this was a good apology video. i mean it. short and to the point, no overproduction, heartfelt and honest (and not a ukelele to be seen. thank god.) they took ownership of the situation, apologized, and restated how much they value their relationship with the fandom.
their solution is to make the watcher tv platform into kind of an iteration of patreon where content is available for early access before it is released onto youtube later. this is clearly a better option than paywalling everything for everyone. i'm not sure what the relative breakdown of costs turns out to be when you compare how much they were making on patreon after the platform took their cut VS how much it costs in overhead to run and maintain their own platform (how much it costs annually to contract via Vimeo, essentially). but i'm sure that's part of the calculation.
all things considered, that does seem like the best option out of all the alternatives. it allows them to not completely abandon any of the pans they have simmering over the fire for the time being. i don't think i ever thought they were going to just say "oops, forget about the streaming thing! let's pretend that never happened!" because at this point they've invested quite a lot of time and money into it, and i don't disagree that keeping it in some iteration may help them make up some of the funds they're lacking.
i would say, it's fine to keep the streamer. this is one of the ok outcomes, all things considered-- but if they're going to do it, they've GOT to do it smart from this point forward. listen to both the fans and the consultants intimately. both are going to have valid points, and both are going to be right. listening to too much of either side will sink this thing because each has motives and expertise that the other doesn't. if the fans say $6 is too much, listen to them-- but have conversations with business consultants about how much you realistically need to charge to make things work.
also, i'd use this whole situation as a learning experience. watcher is a young company, and it's literally inevitable that mistakes will happen. what's different is that the watcher crew haven't really been in a position before where they've been on the receiving end of the internet-angry-justice-hammer to this extent. it's one thing to watch it happen to others, but it's a position of extreme privilege (and a bit of hubris) to think "but that won't happen to me, because i'm built different." naw, man-- two things in life are inevitable: death and fuckups. the callout posts get us all in the end.
what's really important is that they use this as a wakeup call that even the most loyal fandoms will only follow you so far to the cliff's edge, and you don't want to push that. you have to strike a balance between the passion projects that you think are worthy and the stuff that maybe doesn't excite you as much anymore but the people want to see. a little fanservice keeps the lights on, as unfair as that might seem. i'm gonna make 50 markiplier choccy milk memes just so i can make one niche political joke once and a while for 6 likes. it is what it is.
i'd also use this as a chance to take a very careful look at company structure and finances. it's not fun to do and nobody likes it. trust me-- this is hard whether you're a single adult trying to pay the bills or the freaking US government (speaking from experience on both-- i have to read the president's budget for work frequently). but you all have to ask hard questions about the ratio of creative staff you take on VS staff for administrative and other business roles, as well as the costs and benefits of everything you spend money on. how many staff members are essential to location shoots? can this video be shot with 2 cameras instead of 3 and thus you don't need another cameraperson? you might even have to come to the decision that instead of pitching a new show it makes more sense to use those funds to hire your essential non-creative roles or contract firms or freelancers.
paying staff a fair wage with benefits speaks highly of what watcher wants their values to be. it's hard to find such a position in a creative role and still actually get to work on things you care about. but it would be much worse if watcher didn't make realistic decisions about finances and it lead to the death of the company and everyone losing their jobs. the whole watcher company can work, in my opinion, but not without some sacrifices. they're going to have to run it more like a business and less like a youtube-channel-turned-business in the future if they want to survive.
last thing i'll add is that while i do think this was a good apology video, i still think they hurt themselves by not putting out some sort of statement on Friday or Saturday just to say that they were formulating a response. As i've said in other posts, it's ok and in fact beneficial to not make a kneejerk reaction, but it's also very important to communicate that you SEE what's happening. you SEE what people are saying and THAT'S why you need more time to respond. saying nothing and leaving the angry public to wonder if you dropped your phone off the Hoover Dam or just don't care? that's a fumble. it's a common mistake companies make in a crisis, but that doesn't mean it doesn't erode trust fast.
this could have been handled better in many ways. we see that, and i'm glad watcher says they see that too. crucial going forward is taking all this and patching the errors that caused all this to fall apart and learning from the experience.
tbh at this point what i'm most sad about is that the watcher crew have probably been too stressed out and upset to appreciate some of the absolute bangers people have been laying down to clown on them. i think if it wasn't about them they might be touched by the collective attitude and creative spirit. /j
#watcher#watcher tv#after this post i have got to actually not spend time writing long reactions about this anymore because i too#have fires caused by my own fuckups to put out#alas
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So weak when you move like that!
Pairing: sub!gojo x dom!reader
You weren't someone who easily gets jealous. And gojo didn't like that, he liked it whenever you got jealous and was rough with him during sex and what's a better way to achieve that roughness from you other than flirting with girls in front of you? You didn't pay much attention because you were aware that he was intentionally provoking you. Until. A girl sat on his lap and slowly rubbed her ass on his lap. It was enough to make you lose your cool. Gojo could clearly see your anger and jealousy as you walked towards him. He knew he was fucked.
“B-baby! Please.. Ah! Slow down!” Gojo moans and lolls out his tongue. His moans were getting so loud, you wouldn't be surprised if your friends teased you and him after you left the restroom. “Yeah? Want me to slow down?” instead of doing what he just said, you fastened your strokes on his hard cock, his tip flushed pink and covered in his cum. His attempt to stop you was to grab your wrist, but you resisted him by slapping his hand away. “Try touching me one more time Satoru.” He gave you a smile and touched your arm and waist. As if he hadn't already made you jealous a bit earlier. He was in for it.
Your left hand was placed on his mouth, covering his moan. His thighs and stomach were covered in his thick and sticky cum and he was screaming at this point. His eyes rolled back and his saliva coated your palm. He jerked his hips upwards as he neared his fourth orgasm. “B-baby.. I'm sorry!! —mmph! Please stop no–” you shoved your fingers in his mouth before he could finish, he was a very bratty boy today. He could at least suck on your fingers and keep quiet. That's the minimum amount he could do!
You pulled away right when he was about to cum, his hips jerked uncontrollably. “Satoru, get down.” He immediately followed instructions and got down on his knees. Hissing after his tip rubbed against the cold tiles. He knew what actions to take, and he didn't hesitate to pull up your skirt and move your panties to the side. Gojo was leaning in between your legs, but you caught him by pulling on his hair, making him look up at you. His eyes were filled with tears as a result of overstimulation. “Please my love...I wanna taste you so bad! Please!” “Good boy” you spread your legs just enough for him to dig in.
Gojo pathetically smiles before shoving his face into your pussy, the tip of his nose rubbing against your clit and his tongue lapping up your juices. He was moaning against your folds when you rubbed softly on his cock with your shoes, he was falling apart when you massaged his balls with the sharp tip of your heel. He pressed his cheek against your soft thighs, but he couldn't keep up because you overstimulated him to his breaking point. “Cmon now baby. Finish what you started immediately, don't delay. You should have thought about this earlier no?”
#jjk gojo#gojo satoru smut#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojou#gojo satoru#gojo#gojo saturo#gojo satoru x you#gojo smut#gojo smau#gojo sensei#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader#gojo satorou#jujutsu kaisen#anime smut#lazywrites♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#smut!#toru#gojou satoru#satoru smut#sub gojo satoru#jjk satoru#satorugojo#jjk imagines#jjk smau#sub jjk
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Since you’re taking requests could you please do one where it’s R and Leah’s like 3 year anniversary or something and R plans out a nice surprise but Leah forgets and shows up late which upsets R a lot. Something angsty but with a happy ending 🤭
You forgot?
Angst (Happy ending), some fluff
-
“You forgot? You fucking forgot?! Are you shitting me right now Leah?” You scream at her, hands out.
“Baby I’m sor-“she tries.
“No! You don’t get to call me that right now. Just drive.” Leah sighed and pressed down on the pedal.
-
“Happy anniversary baby girl” You whisper to Leah, her eyes fluttering open at the light kisses being left all over her face.
“Mmmh” she grins and turns to you, pulling you in for a proper one. “Happy anniversary” she whispers, smiling brightly at you and then leaning in to kiss you again. Your kisses turn heated and end in some passionate morning sex, causing you both to run a little late, but you both didn’t care, claiming it had to be done to celebrate your third anniversary. Since you were now running late you had agreed to give each other your presents later tonight.
“Darling, meet me there at 6:30 okay? I’ll text you the address so you can pop it in your phone” You peck her lips, walking to the other side of the garage to get in your car.
“Babe please tell me what it is” she whines.
“No can do my love, it’s a surprise just wait and see” you grin, lowering yourself into your car.
“Ughhh” she groans, getting in her own car. You turn and give her a wink through the window as you reverse out of the garage, and you catch her rolling her eyes. You honk loudly at her, and she winds the window down.
“I better not have just seen you rolling your eyes at me missy”, she smiles guiltily but proudly, “Alright then, no more celebratory sex for you” You give her a smug grin and wind your window up.
“No baby wait!” Her calls fall on deaf ears as you roll out the driveway.
-
You text Leah the address once you arrive at work, along with some teasing words. The address included just the street name, and you had told her to meet you in the car park, still wanting the element of surprise for your final destination.
Your day flies by and before you know it, it’s time to leave for the restaurant. You had booked in Leah’s favourite, it was a 6-month waiting list and a lot of sweet talking, but you knew it was all worth it for your girl. After dinner, you planned to take her to the place you two first met, a local pub in Milton Keynes. You first encountered the blonde when you and your best friend were forced to share the dart board with her family, and it all skyrocketed from there. You thought it’d be a nice idea to take her back there, even though the two of you regularly went with Leah’s mum, you thought it’d be a special idea for today, just the two of you.
You changed into the outfit you had brought to work. A long black dress, with a slit down the side of the right thigh. It was Leah’s favourite dress of yours, and every time you wore it, it always ended up being almost ripped to shreds by her at the end of the night. You jumped in the car and quickly texted Leah, “Leaving now xx” before driving off. When you arrived at the restaurant you checked your phone to find your message unread. You didn’t worry too much, assuming she must have been driving on her way. You waited a while longer however there was still no sight of the blue-eyed girl. It was nearing a couple of minutes past your reservation when you decided you were going to have to go into the restaurant, knowing you’d lose the booking otherwise. Once you were seated at the table, you checked your phone—still nothing. You decided to call her, however, the phone rang out to her adorable voicemail that she hadn’t changed in 6 years.
After another 30 minutes passed and all you received was radio silence from Leah you began to worry. You knew she wouldn’t intentionally stand you up, you had been together for three years for god's sake. So, with that in mind, worrying thoughts began to run through your head. Had she been in an accident? Stabbed? God where the fuck is she! After being told by the hostess that you had already occupied an hour and a half of your two-hour booking you decided to call some of the Arsenal girls as they would’ve been the last to see her.
“Y/n? Is everything okay?”
“Lia! Oh, thank God! I’m sorry to disturb you but I was meant to meet Leah over an hour ago and I haven’t heard from her. Do you have any idea where she is?” You rambled into the phone, receiving a few strange looks from the surrounding tables.
“Oh um, Leah!” she called out,
“Yeah?” you heard your girl on the other end of the phone,
“Y/n is on the phone; you were meant to meet her?” Lia responds,
“Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck!” Is all you hear, and you can instantly tell the Milton Keynes twang in her cuss. “Baby god fuck I am so sorry, the girls were all going out for drinks and I completely lost track of time” She tried to reason through the speaker. Your worries instantly faded but anger fuelled inside of you. The phone bruised your hand as you gripped it.
“Where. The fuck. Are you?” You quipped, tight-lipped.
“Danny’s bar, babe I’m sor-“, you hung up on her not wanting to hear the pathetic reasoning for her absence. You hurriedly exit the restaurant, sincerely apologising, not before they pull you back and force you to pay a hefty fee for the time. You pay and angrily storm to your car, driving straight to the bar where Leah is. Once you arrive you stride in, instantly spotting or rather hearing the loud group of girls. Katie calls you over and you happily waltz towards her, still in your dress. You don’t spot Leah at the table.
“Your girl is at the bar” Katie slings an arm around your shoulder,
“I don’t care” you reply, taking her drink and chugging it down.
“Finally, someone who wants to have a bit of fun!” Katie exclaims, “I’ll get us some shots.” She winks.
“Put it on Leah’s tab” you shout after her as she heads to the bar. At the sound of her name, Leah turns around to find you sat at the table. Her eyes widen and fear washes over her face. She swallows and begins to walk over to you slowly. As she goes to sit down you all but look at her and slide your handbag to reserve the spot next to you, “taken”. You still refuse to face her. Leah knows better than to plead with you now, not wanting to make a scene, so she allows you to ignore her. She nods and walks around to the other side of the table, opposite you.
-
As the minutes ticked by, more alcohol went down your throat. You were slightly tipsy at this point. Leah had still not spoken to you, as you refused to acknowledge her, but you could feel the burn of her eyes on you all night.
Before you knew it, everyone was starting to twinkle their way out, tipsy goodbyes being shared around. Leah, who had still not quipped a word, followed you to your car. Having been driven there by Lia, and also knowing you’d had far too much to drink to drive yourself.
You both walked silently towards the car, you with an extra rage in your step. When you made it to the door you pulled out your keys. The car squeaking noises back and forth as you kept locking and unlocking the car. Leah grabbed your hand to help, and you pulled away, hard. “Baby just let me help you unlock the car”, she pleaded.
“One, don’t call me that. Two, I don’t need help.” You scoffed, continuing to tumble with the buttons. Leah sighed, not bothered to argue with you. Once you finally got the car unlocked you headed to get into the driver’s seat before Leah grabbed your wrist to stop you.
“Oh no no, you’re not driving” She states.
“What? Why?” you reply, outraged.
“Because you’ve had too much to drink, go to the other side”. You huff, sulking to the passenger side of the car.
-
The beginning of the drive was silent, until your mind began to sober up, and begin wondering.
“You can sleep on the couch” You quipped to Leah.
“What! Why?” She squeaked back.
“Why do you think!?” You began to raise your voice. Leah pulled over to the side of the road, knowing this could get a little messy.
“Y/n, I’m sorry, It just completely slipped my mind, I completely forgo-“
“You forgot? You fucking forgot?! Are you shitting me right now Leah?” You scream at her, hands out.
“Baby I’m sor-“she tries.
“No! You don’t get to call me that right now. Just drive.” Leah sighed and pressed down on the pedal.
-
When you returned home, you marched upstairs, slamming the bedroom door. Leah remained downstairs and sighed at your loud actions. She knew she fucked up and she also knew she wouldn’t get out of this one easy. So, she began assembling everything she’d need to make it up to you.
-
“Baby?” Leah knocked softly at your bedroom door. She was met with silence. “Baby? Can I come in?”. Silence again. Leah decided to softly open the door. Attempting to squeeze through, but struggled due to her current clothing, and accidently pushed the entire door wide open.
She stood there, a little embarrassed, head to toe in a pumpkin costume, flowers in hand, and a small trolley that looked like she had stolen from her little cousin behind her. She smiled softly and awkwardly. You had to stifle back a laugh, covering it with a small cough at the sight. You remained silent.
“I’m sorry, I really am” she whispers. “Let me make it up to you?” she smiles softly, lifting the flowers. You couldn’t stay mad at her little face enclosed in her pumpkin hat. So, you softly nodded and smiled. She smiled brightly and practically ran to you.
-
You both lay in bed naked, sat up against the headboard, Leah’s costume tossed on the floor, her arms around you, your back to her front. The trolley of food is empty, and the smidges of melted chocolate are still visible on both your bodies. “You’re a twat you know?” You turn your neck slightly to turn up and look at her. She smiled down at you.
“I know” she frowns.
“But you’re my twat” you smile. She laughs at your absurd and cheesy words.
She leans into your lips softly smiling, “That I am”.
-
A/n: First time writing in a few months! Hopefully this is okay and everyone enjoyed :)
As always, kind feedback, along with any questions, discussions, and convos are always welcome in my inbox!
#leah williamson#awfc#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson imagine#wlw#woso#woso community#woso fanfics#woso one shot#lionesses
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Distraction
Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader
You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.
Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.
I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)
Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet. All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts. Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.
“What’s got you so nervous over there?” Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze. “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”
“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road. Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.
His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog. It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was. But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach. Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.
It was a good life, that’s for sure.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend. “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”
“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.
Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Ace, are you really alright? Your face is kind of red.” You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”
“Nah, I feel fine. Honestly. Just… thinking.” One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks. All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area. He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain. He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles. (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)
“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good. I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.
He needed to tell you to stop talking. Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.
He might as well have been ovulating.
After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline. The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky. A few small beach houses dotted the shore.
“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.
Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit. “Public, but very minimal. There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”
You grinned. “Nice.”
“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.
“I don’t mind them,” you replied. “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous. Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!” Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.
The parking lot seemed sparse. It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there. Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot. During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.
You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.
“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.
“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers. You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.
Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion. You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.
Little prick.
The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand. You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight. Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight. The thought made you smile. You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.
“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly. “I’ll be right back.” He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.
You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees. You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag. Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away. Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other. While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves. And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.
And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked. The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.
Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed. The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved. He really needed to get that fixed. He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.
He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.
Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you. The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust. Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face. The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.
Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.
You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Hey! All set with the cooler?”
He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud. “Yeah, all set…” His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.
You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.
“You… you look��” Ace could barely look at you. “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”
Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense. The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure. Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.
“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him. Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.
“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.
You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening. “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”
Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth. The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.
He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time. He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door. You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside. He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.
He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.
After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.
The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats. It was a car built for fucking.
“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue. “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”
Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side. Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass. The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.
“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms. “Are you ovulating? You’re acting like me before my period.”
“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue. You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek. His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat. Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz. Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.
“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk. “Hmm… not too worried.”
“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.
He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue. A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect. He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay. Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.
Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.
“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him. “Your suit stays on.”
Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand. You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top. God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.
“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up. A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.
“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach. You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight. “You’re so pretty…” you muttered. You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.
Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude. Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased. This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.
Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth. The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.
Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit. You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.
And goodness, did he taste good. A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest. His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.
On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him. Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him. He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head. Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.
He knew you too well. He knew what you needed. Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship. You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures. You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area. Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.
You learned quickly too, however. Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip. He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers. He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.
You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand. “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder. Not like you could see much.
Ace paused his motions against your pussy. “... Maybe.”
You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter. You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.
Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless. The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze. Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.
After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours. You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.
“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.
“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.
Usually, the two of you used lube. It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing. But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today. Nor did you have any condoms. Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock. You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.
The first insertion always hurt somewhat. A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle. The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.
That was another thing you loved about him. He was loud.
Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less. Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.
You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms. You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit. It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right. Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.
Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today. Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.
Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him. His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.
Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell. He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds. This angle always fit the both of you. As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits. His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass. His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.
It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear. Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered. The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.
Ace was barely holding it together. The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction. His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him. The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs. Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.
“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat. “You’re gonna make me cum again…”
The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure. Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement. A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat. His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.
Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were. You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.
Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand. You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.
Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing. His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm. A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids. You felt wet between your legs. It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky. You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up. You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car. The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.
You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit. You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.
“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.
He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth. “I think my heart almost stopped.”
You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin. “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often? I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”
Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin. “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.” He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips. “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#one piece x reader#op x reader#ace x reader#portgas d ace x reader#portgas d ace#portgas ace x reader#portgas ace smut#ace x reader smut#portgas d ace x reader smut#smut#op smut#one piece smut#ace oneshot
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Across The Way
Ch. 2: And So It Begins
Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader
MDNI
Ao3 | Previous - Next
Word Count: 2.6k
Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.
A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!
“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.
“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.
“She is a pretty little thing.”
“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.
Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.
“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.
Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.
“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.
Simon huffs out a half laugh.
~~~
Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.
By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.
When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.
“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.
As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.
The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.
This is what you always wanted, after all.
You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.
When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.
It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.
You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.
When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.
It makes you feel normal.
As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.
It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.
Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.
Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.
That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.
You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.
The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.
So cute.
“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.
“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”
“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.
“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.
“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”
You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.
Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.
Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”
You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“
“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”
You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.
“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”
“Course.” He nods.
“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.
~~~
“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”
“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”
She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)
“Can I get you something?” You ask.
“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”
“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.
Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”
You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”
“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.
“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.
An image of home.
“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”
“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”
“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.
“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.
You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.
Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“
“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.
Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?
What’s that like?
Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”
You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”
He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”
“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”
“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.
“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”
“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.
You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.
Riley barks from the front of the shop.
“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”
You smile. “You too.”
~~~
Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.
Pretty girl.
You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.
That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.
You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.
You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.
#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#ghost cod#cod x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#ghost x reader#cod#ghoap x reader#ghoap#ghostsoap#plus size reader#fat reader#reader insert#slow burn#reader has pots#soapghost x reader#johnny soap mactavish#simon x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#I’m so pumped for the next chapter you have no fucking clue babes
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haiii can we get more doctor!remus x whimsical!reader? maybe reader uses crystals and healing music to help remus when he's feeling sad/mentally blocked? no worries if you don't want to, love the way you write them teehee :3
Thanks for requesting babe!
doctor!Remus x whimsical!reader ♡ 870 words
Remus supposes it’s the thought that counts.
He’d come home from work today complaining of a long day and a dismal mood and expecting, perhaps, a kiss and cuddle from you to make him feel better. Instead you’d laid him down on the couch and started placing eclectically-shaped and oddly colorful rocks on his forehead, throat, and torso, and now you’re playing music that sounds like some shit even James wouldn’t be caught listening to.
There’s a muffled noise in the kitchen. Remus cracks an eyelid. Another, and he’s sitting up, catching the stones as they fall from him. You’re kneeling on the counter, reaching for something in the back of the cabinet.
“Oi,” Remus starts to stand, but you turn to face him and hop down without even the decency to look a little abashed.
“Remus.” Your voice is about as stern as a kitten’s purr, but he can tell you’re meant to be remonstrating him as you walk over, pushing him back down by the shoulder. You take the rocks from his hand and start arranging them as they were. “You’re meant to be relaxing.”
“You’re meant to ask me when you need something you can’t reach,” he counters. The stone you set on his throat wobbles as he speaks.
Your eyebrows twitch slightly, as close to a frown as you ever get. “If you get up, you’ll disrupt the healing process.” You place the last rock on his forehead with deliberate care. Remus’ heart thaws some.
“Oh, well. I didn’t mean to disrupt the healing process.”
You smile, seraphim. “You’re being terribly corporeal again.”
“Can you blame me?” He cracks one eyelid to look at you, flirting a bit. “My entire career is based on the corporeal. I’d be out of a job if I started focusing on things unrelated to science.”
You shrug. “There’s no science that says they don’t help, and in my experience they do.”
“The rocks?”
“The crystals, yes.”
Remus hums and turns his palm up. You set your hand in his, smile softening as he starts running his thumb over the delicate skin of your inner wrist. “Tell me what they do, pretty girl.”
Your eyes are busy watching the movement of his thumb, but they flit back up to his at the request. “You really want to know?” you ask.
“I really want to know.”
You situate yourself more comfortably next to his legs on the couch, reaching over to touch the stone on his heart. “This one’s for confidence and calm, and this one—” you touch the one on his throat, careful not to displace it “—is meant to balance your spirit and cleanse your subconscious.”
“Mm. And what does cleansing my subconscious entail?”
“It helps you let go of any preconceived beliefs that may be limiting you.”
“What if I happen to like my preconceived beliefs?”
“Too bad.”
That startles a laugh out of him, and you smile as your fingers brush his neck, ensuring the stone doesn’t fall.
“Alright, what’s the last one do?”
“It gives you inner strength and motivation,” you say, quiet and certain. “I imagine you’ll need it for the rest of the week, seeing as it’s only Monday.”
Remus has no argument for that. He probably will need it.
“Is the music helping?” you ask.
He hesitates. “It sort of feels like I’m meant to be dancing with faeries in some secluded forest. Is that what it’s supposed to do?”
You turn so he can’t see your face, but your smile is in your voice. “That’s not inaccurate, but I can change it if you like.”
“That might be best. Thanks, dove.”
“Course,” you whisper, and then the music cuts out, replaced by the trinkling sounds of water. Rain sounds. Some tightly wound muscle in Remus’ head relaxes.
“Thanks,” he says again, quieter now. The room feels suddenly like a sanctuary he doesn’t wish to disrupt. Either those rocks of yours are actually doing something, or you’re just emanating enough love to heal him all on its own.
When you speak, it’s in an equally soft voice. “I’m going to get on the counter again,” you warn, “and I don’t want you to come after me, please.”
Remus sighs his acquiescence. “Be careful.”
“I will,” you promise.
He hears the quiet thudding of your knees hitting the counter and opens his eyes, watching as much as he can in his periphery as you root around in the cabinet. Something crinkles just before you hop down.
“What did you need in there so badly?” he asks curiously.
You smile, proud of yourself, and hold up a chocolate bar. “This. It makes your brain release the nice hormones, right? I can’t remember the science-y names.”
“Serotonin, dopamine, and endorphins,” he confirms as you come over. You start peeling open the wrapper. “I thought you didn’t believe in the corporeal, though.”
You roll your eyes like he’s silly. “Of course I do. The spiritual and corporeal can go together, you know. We can use both.”
You break off a piece of chocolate and hold it out for him, but Remus bypasses it to take your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Dove, you make some excellent points.”
#doctor!remus lupin#remus lupin au#whimsical!reader#remus lupin x whimsical!reader#doctor!remus x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders x reader
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bloodhound starring yuuji itadori.
content warning: no pronouns used, but reader is implied to be dfab.
reader is dealing with their period/pms.
roughhousing/fighting (they are training), scent kink, yuuji and reader are 18+, sukuna is here too yuuji. funky (very slight) mind-control/subtle influence aspects. perverted thoughts. reader is annoyed by everything. no penetration/sex. yuuji smells you ovulating lmao? begging (from yuuji). dry humping. idk i was just writing shit and the plot got outta hand.
Yuuji’s changed since Sukuna came along.
Not something you acknowledged at first - of course, it would be within reason to anticipate some degree of pushback from the curse. A never before seen bond between human and … less-than-benevolent spirit was sure to have some stubborn aftereffects. It seems that little whisper of a king took care to extend his influence more permanently than you’d appreciate, frankly.
Yuuji’s senses have been unnaturally keen as of late. Not the ‘notice your new haircut’ kind of attentive - that natural knowledge that comes with closeness - but,
eerily observant. Sukuna’s cohabitation of Yuuji’s body seemed to have bolstered his olfactory systems in bizarre ways. Or maybe the curse had just gotten attached to the scent of your flesh.
Like when he noticed when you ran out of lavender shampoo, you started using citrus. Or when he shouted in front of ‘Gumi and Nobara about how you definitely changed your perfume. Weird shit. Mr. Paying-Too-Much-Attention just tried to brush it off.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was keeping tabs on you. He tried to be completely normal otherwise - even apologized about the perfume; though Megumi and Nobara ensure you never hear the end of it.
But he’s doing it again right now. In the lull of your training, he seems stunned for a moment; seemingly overtaken by the presence of something around him. When you ask ‘what?’, he responds with a question.
“Do you smell that?” He huffs the air like he’s starved for it, the genuine curiosity bouncing around in his eyes confounding more than it intrigued. His eyes are half-lid, dogged and low, like a bloodhound taking index of nearby quarries. He’s paused your flow, stopped your energy, and besides; “The only thing I can smell is you.” You scowl. You stand with your arms akimbo, lips subtly quirked in irritation. He looks gagged by that response, but keeps breathing deep; lids fluttering delicately to half-lids.
“Yuuji.” You go to cross your arms, glaring daggers. “Yuuji, c’mon, I need you to focus.”
“Mmn." His nose wriggles; it's a little cute. "But it smells so good… You sure you didn’t bring food in here? I can’t focus with that- ah - smell.” He seems labored by it, but it’s not so strange for Yuuji to be incredibly dramatic about most things. “It smells like…mhn.” Failing to describe the scent, you rapidly find yourself disinterested in his little moment. But he’s insistent on having it.
He licks his lips til’ they shine under the fluorescent, fanged teeth poking from his upper lip as he makes a face. A brutal, not-quite-smile, then something else, reserved as he retained the barest hint of control. He looked feral, like a wolf twitching with pent up aggression, holding out for the fawn to tottle past.
You occasionally envied his inclination towards the eccentric- frankly freaky sometimes- but sadly, at present you lacked the patience. You’re not playing games this week, and definitely not today.
It feels like everything and everyone’s been pissing you off for like half the week. Nobody seems to be on the right timing - no, not even Nobara, who seems more to your speed even when you’re in a bad mood with the rest of them. Nothing happened (you think) to make you feel angry, this pent up, but you think the others have noticed and politely adjusted their behavior. Giving you more space during breaks, keeping conversations to polite banter and short chats, getting you snacks…
Oh, now he’s starting to make you a little hungry. That’s what you think it is, that low simper in your belly as your vexation grows; tired of his antics. “Stop fucking around, man. I know this shit comes easy to you - or whatever - but I’m not letting you get me behind on training. Stand up.” The demand in your voice doesn’t seem to inspire motivation. Rather it just makes him annoyed, his brows now furrowed as he (bordering on obsessively) sniffs the air. Gets a whiff of something beautiful. Like blood pumping through veins, decadent, succulent, dripping, and raw. Rubs a bit of drool from his lips.
Sukuna’s been chittering in the time you weren’t. A faint locust buzz crescendos into airplanes flying overhead, a mantra tittering in the back of his head over and over again.
It’s you. It’s you, It’s you, It’s you, It’s you. Sukuna didn’t have to tell him that, really - he’s not that dumb - but forgive him for wanting to pretend like you’re not making him tent his sweatpants. He’s been smelling you all week - and after that argument with you and the gang on Tuesday, apparently nobody else noticed anything had changed. Granted, it’s not like he hates it; quite the contrary, actually…
You smell too good. Like a forbidden delicacy; savory and not too sweet. Oh, if only he could get you on his tongue. The thought is as foreign as it is tantalizing. He’s quick to assume Sukuna has something to do with it - but when he’s still having those thoughts when Sukuna hasn’t spoken to him in days, he’d think it irresponsible to not take some accountability for it. He scowls to himself, glancing at you in his periphery as you practice your striking form.
(You dance through the air, the power in your thrust brought forth from the entirety of your body; each muscle, moving in perfect sync. The more you work yourself up - the stronger the scent of you gets. It’s like a pheromone, wafting irritatingly through the space, driving him fucking mad -)
“Your yearning is pathetic.” Yuuji’s mouth goes dry as Sukuna’s mouth splits open a space behind his ear; but you must not hear him - too busy slicing through nothing. “I’ve never understood playing with your food. If you’re strong enough to take the sorcerer - they’re yours to be had.” He reflexively goes to shut him up.
You’ve barely wanted to be near him all week. Or any of the gang, really. You’ve been acting differently, too. Quicker to anger and cutthroat, more territorial - less affectionate. You’re only training together because you pressed him for it, like you were dead set on showing him up.
He thinks you’re doing fine. (Sukuna thinks it’s cute how hard you try).
You step too close and Yuuji’s head snaps to you on cue, and for a moment you think something’s wrong. He’s perched low down, searching you. Considering you, staring you up with that look. You recognize it - better suited to a battlefield and carnage - but it’s good to know he’s finally paying you attention. A full-minded, beady-eyed focus, as if you were a spirit in need of exorcism. He looks hungry for it.
You shuffle back reflexively, too wired to go down to some low-blow.
“Oh? You ready to get back to it then?” You resume your offense, leaning into your stance as you watch Yuuji stagger to his legs almost drunkenly; and yet not taking his eyes off you. He balls his hands up into fists, feet shifting into position. “Yeah. I think m’ready. If you are.” His curtness is greatly appreciated, though you can’t help but quirk your brow at his change of pace. You squat lower, tighten your grip on your training weapon.
You push in at the same time. The point of contact - his fist and your naginata - disappears in a void of darkness. Tendrils of black jut out in all directions, and all you hear is the crrrr - ACK! of your wooden instrument; split clean in two as the ‘sharp’ end goes flying and leaving you with the blunted shaft. He’s on top of you as soon as you recover, reaching forward with a quick jab you barely dodge.
The sweat runs off your forehead as you dart backwards, swiftly slamming the wooden handle down into his skull. The naginata cracks into nothing. He is hardly winded.
He reaches out for you and you dive to the side, throwing up your arm to shield your chest before Yuuji nearly caves it in.
“-shit!”
You’re gasping, nearly falling on your ass as the force of Yuuji’s kick knocks the air out of your lungs.
“- ah, fuck -”
There’s a feeling besides fear, there. A sudden shuddering in your limbs and a faintness in your head that makes you drop low to the ground, your legs wobbling ever so slightly,
before they give, the blood rushing away from your head as a new pain blooms deep within your stomach. It joins the one in your chest, tormenting you.
Yuuji’s on top of you when your vision returns from black (did you close your eyes? You hadn’t noticed), half concerned and half… well -
He’s got you pinned to the training mat below, weight audaciously pressing into your stomach as he plants himself firmly on top of you. There’s something hard down there, jabbing insistently into you that perplexes you for only a second; until his face tells you everything to know.
His gaze is hazy, like he’s coming off that high but not quite - got your arms pinned above your head even if he no longer needs to use that kind of force. His face is red, blushed from ear to ear, and your analysis is momentarily interrupted by his voice cutting through the silence.
“Well, I won,” He huffs, rocking his hips a little. “Don’t I get a prize? Y’know - for winning?” He leans more to your level. You’re in no rush to buck him off - the pressure doesn’t feel that bad; actually.
"What?"
Your voice is breathy and incredulous when you fully come to.
“You want a fucking cookie or somethin’?” To your amusement, he nods excitedly. One of his hands leaves yours to slowly trail down your front. That focus still hadn’t lifted from him, his attention concentrated solely on the line he’s driving down your stomach.
“Yeah, something like that.”
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ JJK/BANNER ART by gege akutami
all content written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yuuji itadori x reader#yuji itadori x reader#jjk x reader#yuuji itadori#yuji itadori#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yuuji itadori fanfic#jjk yuuji#🪻┆all eyes on me.#itadori yuuji imagines#tw periods
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furthest from truth
Lando Norris fic - requested
My inbox for requests
a/n: I'm baaack! It's been a while, I have to admit. But after having 3 new requests today, I got motivated again and I decided to write the ones that were yet to be posted on my page. I hope you like it! I've added some spice to the end of the chapter 👀 Don't forget to follow me so you won't miss my other stories! 🫶🏼
Sun. Beach. Sand. Friends.
It might look cliché, but it’s what filled your hearts with joy.
‘’Norris! Give me a hand, will ya?’’ Your lips pulled away from those of your boyfriend the moment he got up to help one of your friends with preparing the jet skis.
‘’Finally,’’ your best friend, Ava, laughed as she took a seat next to you. ‘’Now that your lips are no longer glued to his, what do you think of grabbing a drink, I’m in a desperate need for a Frozen Daiquiri.’’
She pulled you up on your feet after you agreed on getting drinks. It was your holiday, after all, and even though it was just your first day of the 3-week holiday here in Dubai, you were planning on making it the best holiday yet.
You and Lando had been together for a little over 5 months now, the two of you bumping into each other at last year’s Christmas Market in London. You spilled your bottle of water over your shirt, and he was determined to win you a teddy bear so he could make it up to you.
After that Christmas Market, you went on a ton of dates. In London, but also in Monaco, as that was where he lived. You attended 3 races before he finally asked you to be his last summer, and obviously you said yes, otherwise this story is kind of weird, isn’t it?
Anyways, you knew who he was when you met him, having watched a few races here and there, along with your friends.
The moment you told your friends Lando had asked you out on a date, they couldn’t contain their excitement and practically forced you to go out with him. So, you did. And here we are, almost a year later.
‘’Two Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri, please.’’ Ava ordered the drinks for the two of you and once you felt the cold glass in your hand, you immediately took a sip.
‘’Urgh,’’ you groaned, your eyes closed. ‘’Best drink ever.’’ You giggled.
‘’Lando! Oh my god watch out!’’ Your grip on his life jacket was tight as he was riding the jet ski with you on the back. ‘’You idiot!’’ You laughed, hands gripping his shoulders firmly when you felt him go even faster – if that was even possible.
‘’You’re riding a jet ski with an F1 driver, love. Did you really think I was gonna go slow?’’ You groaned at his reply, and you simply held onto him like you could fall off any moment, which was probably the case.
Everything sport related was a game to him, and he was very, very competitive. He hated losing, which is why he tried his hardest to make you his, with success.
‘’Okay, okay, enough speed for me, let’s go back to the shore and have dinner, I’m starving.’’ You breathe, Lando’s hand moving over your leg slowly. He lifted his hand till it rested on your outer thigh, whilst still steering the jet ski with one hand. Slower, though, thankfully.
‘’We will, love, we will.’’ He said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice, his tone, teasingly with a smirk.
‘’Lan-…’’ You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your boyfriend pulled the right handle towards him, the two of you flying over the water. He made sure to keep an eye on you, but he knew you enjoyed this, and he wasn’t wrong.
You might tell him to stop going fast, heck, even in the bedroom you’d tell him to stop, but it was always with that flirty and teasing tone. He knew that tone, and he knew it meant you did not want him to, in fact, stop. So, he kept going.
‘’I should have thought better before signing that contract about us.’’
You were fully drenched, Lando obviously pushing the strings too hard which caused you to fall off the jet ski. Nothing harsh, it was all playful, and the two of you were laughing when it happened.
‘’You’re an idiot.’’ You smirked, rolling your eyes playfully as you squeezed the salty water out of your hair.
‘’I know, but you like it.’’ He teased, slapping your ass lightly as his hand moved its way towards your hip, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. ‘’I love you.’’
Dinner, which was absolutely insane – mostly because you were starving, but definitely because it was one of the best restaurants here in Dubai.
‘’Ehm..’’ Ava shoved you her phone, and you immediately let your eyes wander over the tweets, the Instagram posts, and the articles.
Lando saw the worried look on your face, so he cut off the conversation with his friends and pointed his attention to you, causing his friends to do the same.
‘’What’s wrong, love?’’ He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your knee as his gaze went from you to the phone, back to you.
You showed him the articles, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. You could see his jaw clench, the apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. ‘’They really need to make rumours about everything, don’t they?’’ He sighed and pressed a kiss to your temple.
‘’Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll fix it, we’ll post a statement on Insta, alright?’’ He said, his arms wrapping around you which caused you to relax.
You felt guilty, because you were aware of the eyes that were on him now that his contract with McLaren was coming to an end. You knew his contract was getting renewed, but the world didn’t, and you didn’t want to cause issues.
People blaming McLaren for not renewing his contract, and how this. People blaming McLaren for forcing Lando to be in a relationship with you, a PR relationship, which was the furthest from the truth. You loved each other so much, and McLaren had absolutely nothing to do with the two of you.
‘’Come here.’’ Lando’s arms made his way around your shoulders, his strong arms pulling you even closer to his chest. The bed was comfy, soft, but the tension in your face was apparent, especially to Lando.
‘’I just, I feel so stupid for saying that.’’ You sighed but Lando reassured you immediately.
‘’Babe, it’s not the first time we say this, it’s our joke, and people don’t get it, apparently. You know how the media is, they exaggerate everything to get those views and clicks, so they probably overheard you saying that, but did not see the look on your face, or your beautiful smile when you said that.’’ His voice was soft and calm, like he was not stressed at all about this.
‘’But the image McLa-..’’
‘’No, baby, no. That’s not your fault, okay? They should have probably announced the contract extension sooner, yeah, but that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever you said at the beach, okay?’’ He said, stern, but gentle. And you believed him. Of course you did, you believed everything he would tell you because you knew he was right.
‘’Now let’s make that post so people will stop complaining about things that are the furthest from the truth. That, and so I can take you tonight because I really, really want to.’’ He whispered the last thing with a voice so deep, you felt chills all over your body.
landonorris added to his story
landonorris & yourusername
liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,273,710 others
I love you more than anyone imagine. Nothing can stop us, I promise you. Best decision I've ever made 🧡
view all 39,264 comments
user1 I feel ashamed
user5 as you should
user3 we all should. how could we think it was just a PR. they are in love in love.
user2 You are so so so cute together!
‘’Lando, fuck, stop!’’ You breathe, hands pushing against his chest as he looked into your eyes, his bright ones a few shades darker than usually. He smirked, wetted his lips before thrusting even harder… Just how you asked.
#f1#formula 1#formula one#lando norris#f1 imagines#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fan#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#mclaren formula 1#formula one fanfic#formula one fanfiction#lando x you#lando norris mclaren#lando imagine#lando x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris imagines#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n
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I'm always thinking about how G— was an engineer. A damn good one: the sole engineer of the cryo project, good enough that of all the ten billion, the FTL project chose him to inspect their work, back when the project was still a pipe dream. He was a man from an immigrant family in an underprivileged area who became arguably the world's best engineer, which is impressive in its own right, but it gets me thinking... Pre-Resurrection, John says they can't grow food on Mars (and for all John's unreliability, that's pretty believable, given that the high perchlorate concentration in Martian soil is one of the big obstacles to carrying out a sustained Mars mission), and as silly as this might sound, the engineer and scientist divide is real, and of all the nerds that John resurrected, I can't imagine it was the artist or the contract lawyer or the medical and chemistry experts that made the Mars installation viable. Gideon made a House out of it, and one that accepts recruits from across the Dominican system! "Saint of Duty" is said to fit him, evident in his loyalty and commitment to the Cohort and fighting the Resurrection Beasts, but I have to wonder, how much of that was his commitment to making shit work? I can't shake the image of a couple million people awaking to a ruined world, and someone had to get the other Houses settled, figure out spacecraft and space habitats using what little supplies they have left, and what better candidate for that than the man who canonically engineered spacecraft twice?
ANON I love this so much. You're SO right, and you put into words something about G1deon and John's shared background that I've tried to articulate for a while. In the very first chapter, John says, "It wasn’t that they didn’t have the money for a bigger team; we were simply the only ones capable of what they were asking."
This was an incredibly elite team. They were a brilliant bunch of hyperspecialised nerds. And, like, among John's squad, A- and M- and everyone else started out as colleagues — very smart people he probably met in academic circles, where being smart was kind of a prerequisite. It was their research that brought them together to begin with.
G1deon, though! He was John's friend growing up. John knew his grandparents. They spotted each other spare changes for snacks!! Then John went on to Dilworth, then to university and then overseas, and G1deon had his own (probably different) academic path, and maybe they only stayed vaguely in touch, but when it was time to look for an engineer that could help them build spaceships constructed to provide life support to the whole of humanity for centuries — and G1deon was the guy for that.
The fact that two boys from similar underprivileged backgrounds individually made huge breakthroughs in their chosen fields, and got to work together on a project that was meant to save the world... I bet at the time it felt like a miraculous coincidence. I think they thought, if they'd made it that far, that they could do anything.
(yet another layer to the tragedy of what happened etc etc. G1deon torn between John and P—. John stopping G1deon's heart)
Thank you so much for all your thoughts about the Mars space installation, also — I wonder how long there was between Mars becoming the Second House (founded by G1deon! he and Pyrrha did the bulk of the work!) and the institution of the Third House, which doesn't have a named founder and might very well have been a shared project built on the blueprint of what G1deon set up. "the man who canonically engineered spacecraft twice" — my god I love this so much. It's G1deon emo hours today
#this ask PUNCHED ME IN THE GUTS ty for my life#g1deon#gideon the first#tlt thoughts#ntn#ask#anonymous#tlt#tlt meta#ONE THING though is that I don't think we're meant to interpret G1deon as being from an immigrant family but rather native#it's not spelled out in the books so it's all headcanons#but pasifika G— is where I'm at personally
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The One Where You Royally Screw Up.
ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader
ʚ word count: 3.1k words
ʚ warnings: RPF!! , slight smut, fingering, angst, use of ‘y/n’ if that even is one
ʚ rimunagenius speaks: part 4 is FINALLY here!! i’m so sorry for the delay, it was supposed to release friday but the cold i had thought i was getting over got worse in a span of hours so i said id release it on saturday, but i spent all my saturday in bed asleep bc i have the worst headache and nausea from the cold, and then today it was supposed to release early but the ending never got saved and i realized i had a communications test to take so i had to finish writing it and revising after…but it’s here!! finally. so this is angst so sorry, but trust, the pining and sexual tension that’s to come is gonna be worth it!!!
Part 4
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This felt wrong. You knew it wasn't the best way to cope with the feelings you had realized you were harboring for Kate.
But you needed to get over it. You couldn't possibly be this self destructive, and let yourself fall your roommate. She let you live in her apartment, and gave you grace when you didn't help pay rent for the first two months, trying to find a new job.
She deserved better than to have a friendship ruined just because you loved liked her. It wasn't fair. But this didn't feel fair to you either. Kissing Juliana in the backseat of her car was the last place you wanted to be. This should be Kate. For a moment you thought it was.
That's how you ended up here. Over the span of several months since reporting Nick, he was removed off campus and was doing time. You and Kate had celebrated the accomplishment and never spoke about it again.
Since then you two have been a lot closer. "Sleeping over" in eachothers room. Cuddling more on the couch. It all started that night you both skipped practice. You knew where it was going, so did she. But the inevitable outcome if the actions you two were so good at doing were going to ruin you both. You couldn't have that. That's why you took Juliana up on the date two months ago. You guys made it official that month.
You couldn't have what you and Kate so desperately wanted, cause when you were getting ready, you saw the way Kate watched you. The longing looks she gave you as she sat on the couch next to you, while you did your makeup.
The way you looked absolutely gorgeous in the outfit you wore out to dinner, how she wished she was the one having you on her arm, how she was the one seen in public with you, and got to bring you home at the end of the night. But she wasn't, so she tried not to make it a thing when you came home the next morning. Or when you two made it official.
"You like that?" Juliana whispered in your ear, a small giggle escaping her lips that you could feel throughout your body.
Your panting echoed in the car, while your hands traveling all over her body. Throwing your head back, you moaned as her fingers curled inside of you, fingertips brushing against the soft spongey part inside you. "Oh—Kate." You moaned it before you could even think.
Your body froze, any expecting orgasm thrown out the window. Her fingers paused, softly but swiftly removing her fingers from your sopping cunt. Grabbing a towel in the pocket behind the passenger seat, Juliana avoided looking at you while she cleaned the remnants of you off her hands.
"So, you guys aren't just friends?" Juliana knew that you and Kate were close, she didn't mind. Really. But she saw the way you looked at Kate when she'd leave after dropping you off at class. She saw the way Kate watched everything you did with a look on her face that made it seem like you hung the moon.
"What—that's not—I didn't mean—" You couldn't even think. How could you totally embarrass yourself and do that to Juliana. You didn't even know why you said it. In the far back of your mind, you guess you wished it was Kate. But you thought that was just the mere thought of your fantasies talking.
You've imagine what'd it'd be like to sleep with Kate, hell, every gay woman in America probably has. But that was just a fantasy. You liked Jules. Atleast you thought you did.
"No, tell me right now. Are you and Kate more than friends? I need to know so I don't think I have a chance with you." Julianas eyes were pleading. Sad. She wanted you two to work; she really liked you.
"We're not more than friends." You made sure to look her in the eyes when you said it. You didn't know if it was convince her, or to convince yourself. Maybe if you looked sincere and she believed it, then you would.
"But you want to be, right? Why else would you moan her name while i'm trying to fuck you?" Juliana wasn't mad, she just wanted to know why. Why did you go through with this, sleeping with her, knowing you wished she was someone else.
You couldn't answer her. You didn't know how. You looked down, grabbing your black tank top and sliding it over your head.
"I honestly have no idea, Jules." The name suddenly felt so foreign rolling off your tongue in this context. Juliana winced at the nickname. Suddenly feeling angry about it now.
"Don't call me that. Why did you say her name?" The next pieces of clothing to go on was your black biker shorts and underwear. Fixing your white tube socks, you searched for your shoes.
"I don't know." Was that all you could say to her? She surely deserved more than what you were giving, and you sure as hell weren't giving her anything.
"Stop saying I don't know and just say you like her. That's all I need to hear." Juliana's voice rose as you grabbed your ankle boot docs, sliding them on your feet.
"I don't like her, Jules—I mean, Juliana. I don't like her, okay?" Who were you kidding? Repeating the four words wasn't convincing anyone in the car.
"Jesus Christ, Y/n! Are you fucking kidding me!?" Now she was getting irritated. "You do! There...it's out in the open. Why didn't you just tell me before letting me think that I had a chance?" Her eyes went glassy, now turning pink.
"I don't know why I said it, okay? I think I do like her, and I know it's wrong for imagining her instead of you. You don't deserve that—"
"You're right. I don't." Juliana stepped out of the car, her never taking her clothes off, only aiming to please you, missing. She held the door open, so you could slide out. "Look, I'm not mad at you. I guess it's my fault for falling for you even after I saw how you looked at her."
Watching tears fall down her face, it brought tears to yours. You didn't mean to hurt her. You should've figure your shit out before starting anything. You should've figure out your feelings for Kate.
Thinking you could fill the void with a relationship and sex with another woman, without talking to someone about how you felt, was something only transactional on your end. You hurt someone's feelings because you couldn't figure out your own. How could you jump into a relationship with her?
"No, it's not your fault. I was so stupid for starting something with you—not that you're not great, because you are. But because I should've known what I was doing was wrong. It wasn't fair to you, I'm so sorry." You wiped a tear off her face, your frown deepening as you saw the hurt in her eyes grow.
"Give yourself some grace. I wouldn't know what it's like to fall inlove with someone i've been friends with for so long. It must be hard. But just—don't do this to someone else. Figure out your feelings first." Juliana turned and opened the passenger side door, you closing the backseat passenger door. She handed you your clip and your bag.
"Figure it out with Kate." She gave you a tight lipped smile, before waking around the front of her car and getting inside the drivers seat. You nodded your head, and decided you had to tell Kate.
Walking back to the apartment gave you plenty of time to think. You've been doing that so much lately, you don't know how to anymore. What happened to you?
You haven't recorded vlogs, get ready with me's, or any content for your channel in months. Opting for the vague communication with family and friends. The spiral of trying to get Kate out of your head, and trying to shove her back into the friend zone, was so consuming. You haven't even lived your life.
You needed to say it. You needed to tell someone. You needed to figure it out.
Walking inside, you set your bag and keys down on the counter. What the fuck were you going to say? How could you tell Kate that you and your girlfriend were hooking up, and the whole time you wished it was her.
Struggling to decide on who to tell, you settled for embarrassing yourself to a friend, who you knew would help you. Scrolling to find Jadas name in your contacts, you pressed her contact and listened to the phone ring.
"Hey, Jada!" You said when she answered the phone.
"Hey! What's up? You're coming to practice later, right?" Today was an off day. You usually only ever needed to be at like two practice a week.
"Today's an off day for me, and I would go as a spectator but that's why i'm calling." You swallowed the lump in your throat and sighed. This was gonna be so awkward to explain.
"Wait so you're telling me that...you're actually inlove with Kate...but you can't tell her that and because of that, you moaned her name while you were having sex with your girlfriend? Oh, that's bad, babe." You could see her face without having to see it. When you looked down at your phone, you were correct.
"I know, I know. It's super bad. I don't even know what's worse, the fact that I did that to Juliana, or the fact that she wasn't even mad about it." Recalling earliers incident, she didn't even overreact.
"Probably because she already knew. She just didn't want to see it until you did what you did. She just wanted to keep you while she had you. I get it. Happens to the best of us." Jada nodded her head and ate chips while she watched her show.
You guys ended up Facetiming halfway through the phone call so you could give proper recollection to the incident. Jada needed to see the facial expressions and everything to give her proper advice.
"Oh my god, Jada. Why do I have to feel this way for Kate?" You put your head in your hands and cried a little. You were emotionally overstimulated, the weight of your actions now weighing on you. You looked up, looking to the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, you looked down at Jada.
"Aw, you'll be okay, babe. I promise. We are all human, we all make mistakes. Don't beat yourself up about it, just learn from it. As far as telling Kate goes, I wouldn't tell her unless you were one hundred percent sure that what you're feeling is real. And when you're ready, sit her down, don't ambush her, but sit her down and talk about it."
"What if she thinks I'm literally crazy and so weird and she kicks me out?" You started to spiral.
"Hey, that's not gonna happen. She's a very understanding person and you know that. You've lived with her all these years for godsakes." Jada slapped her hand down on her bed, flipping her bowl of chips. "Oh my god!" She screamed. You laughed at loud, watching some fly across the screen.
The front door opened, a sluggish Kate walked through the door. She had been very tired recently; basketball and finishing school were growing to be very exhausting. She watched you laugh so hard that tears were falling down your face. A scream laugh, that grew quiet, a loud gasp following which she recognized as Jada's laugh through the phone speaker. She walked over and sat down on the couch next to you, resting her head on your shoulder to say hi to her other best friend. "Hi, Jada!" She smiled big into the camera, her sleepy and drowsy mood suddenly vanishing.
You put your hand on Kate's cheek, patting it softly. You looked at Jada through the screen. Your eyes stare into hers. She nodded softly, covering it with leaning down to grab the fallen chips. You knew she was right. Kate wouldn't give you a hard time but you couldn't help but panic.
You three stayed on the phone for a little while before Jada hung up so she could leave for practice. You placed the phone in Kate's room while you sat on her bed, so she could still talk to you both while they both got ready.
Kate was on her way out the door when you stopped her, hand on her arm, "Hey, can I talk to you when you get home? It's kinda important." You were so scared to tell her. But you had to rip the bandaid off right?
"Yeah, of course. I'll see you when I get home. I love you." She closed the door behind her. You stood there for a moment, staring at the door. You had three hours to prepare yourself for tonight. How the fuck were you going to tell her?
You drove yourself insane for the last 3 hours that you were alone in the house. You cleaned the kitchen, the living room, your room, mopped the kitchen, and vacuumed every surface that could be vaccummed in the house. You took a shower, and almost changed your pajamas twice.
You finally sat on the couch, watching whatever was on, literally fucking panicking. Kate had walked through the door thirty minutes ago, cleaning herself up.
"Okay, so what did you need to tell me? You okay?" She sat on the couch next to you, smiling softly to herself when she saw you were wearing one of her old hoodies. She hasn't seen in it in so long.
"What?" You looked at her, noticing smile on her face. She shrugged her shoulders.
"Just haven't seen that sweater of mine in a long time." She adjusted how she was sitting.
"Oh, I forgot I stole this from you a long time ago." You looked to her, instantly regretting it. She was manspreading and she looked so good. You could not look at her when you told her this.
"Okay, anyways. Back to what I needed to tell you. So, Juliana and I broke up." You paused. Her face pulled into a frown.
"Aw i'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Kate reached her arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. You didn't fight it. Choosing to lean into her touch. You closed your eyes, gathering the sheer will to be able to tell her what the hell happened.
"I'm okay, Kate. I promise. But we broke up because we were hooking up in her car, and I know you said not to give you details, but it’s relevant because I moaned your name. While she was trying to fuck me.” You finally got it out, but it wasn’t helping that Kate’s face didn’t express any telling emotions.
You lifted your head from her shoulder, wincing slightly when she immediately moved a small distance on the couch. You needed her to say something but you’d get it if she didn’t. You couldn’t begin to understand the digestion of something like this.
“Oh, wow. That’s crazy.” Kate stared blankly at her slippers that she had been wearing. She was tugging on the strings of her hoodie.
“Yeah…” You were kinda let down at the reaction she had. You were expecting an immediate blow up at what you had just announced. Or some type of general reaction.
She wasn’t saying anything. You could see the gears turning in her pretty head, but nothing was coming out of her mouth. It made you more nervous than before you even told her. “Is that it? Kate?” You watched her blue eyes meet yours.
The shade of blue so pretty, and so relaxing. “What does that mean? Why?”
“Because I love you, Kate.” The sincerity in your voice hitting her like a truck. There’s no way you were finally saying these words to her. You finally said them but at the worst possible time.
“I love you, too.” She replied in the quickness. Almost instantaneous as you said them. She loved you, possibly with every bone in her body.
“No, like, romantically. Not platonically.” You clarified to make sure you heard her correctly. She sighed before speaking.
“I know, that’s why I said it back. But you know we can’t do anything about it, right?” That’s when it hit you. She wasn’t mad, she was just playing it smart. You nodded your head shortly, looking down at your hands.
“Okay, what does that mean for us, though. How exactly are we going to live together knowing there’s something here, and not do anything about it.” You thought about it, and it made sense. The final four tournament already coming. This year was crazy and passing by so fast.
They won the Big Tem tourney almost a month ago. The stress of the biggest tournament this season was coming up and a relationship, the additional stress and possible blow up of a relationship, was hard. Cultivating a new relationship at this time was stress Kate didn’t need. You couldn’t do that to her.
Kate prided herself on being level headed. That’s how she led her team so good, on and off the court. Her ability to take accountability and responsibility was unmatched, so she couldn’t understand why coming up with this resolution was so hard.
She knew it was wrong to start something she wanted to put her all in, at this moment, because she wanted to put her all into basketball. It was more important to her at this moment in time. She knew you’d understand.
“Tell me this again in a couple months, yeah?” Kate said, a small smile on her face. Trying to lighten the mood, she held her hand out.
You looked at her and then at her hand. You shook it. It was quiet for a beat, “And about the living situation, we just do it how we’ve been doing it all these years. Day by day.” Her hand that still remained in yours, pulled your body closer to hers.
This wasn’t the way you wanted to tell Kate that you were inlove with her, that you accidentally almost got off to the idea of her when your girlfriend was indeed not her, or the fact that you couldn’t start a relationship right away. But laying here, against her side, while you sat and watched whatever was on the tv to distract from the overwhelming expression of emotions was okay for now.
You knew you just needed to give it time. You two would come together. For now, you’d just have to wait. So you both sat there, counting down the days until you knew you could be together.
It was already the most insanely slow countdown of your lives.
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