#but in the big screen in my head *chef's kiss*

[oofthwoods]

STEPS TO YOU! ── ˙ ̟ lando norris !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: lando norris hates the idea of soulmates. for him, it's hard to see everyone in his life with a matching tattoo, or a timer, or the inability to see colors, while he has to be content with the fact that he may never find his perfect match. that is, until he starts to see mysterious footprints around the paddock, hinting at a path he never expected.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: this is my confession that my favorite soulmate!aus are the ones where they don't think they have one. the sadness of thinking you are not destined for a great love only to find out that there's someone out there for you??? mwah chefs kiss

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: to be added.

LANDO NORRIS WAS A ROMANTIC AT HEART.

He had a secret love for romantic comedies. Watching couples overcome comical obstacles before finding their happy ending always brought a smile to his face. Though he would never admit it, he found joy in the cliched plots and endearing moments portrayed on screen.

The Brit also enjoyed weddings. Family, friends, or mere acquaintances— it didn't matter. To him, the ceremony was a tangible display of true love that existed beyond the silver screen and scripted Hollywood romances.

Despite everything, Lando knew that he would never experience anything like it. Everyone around him seemed to have a sure sign that they were meant for great love: Carlos with his past life visions shared with his beloved, George with his key pendant symbolizing his destiny, and even Oscar, who occasionally vanished, leaving a girl in his place. But not Lando. No visions, no tattoos, no words etched on his arm foretelling what his soulmate would say upon their first encounter. He felt like an outsider in a world where everyone seemed to have found their perfect match, while he knew he would be alone forever.

As Lando's realization sunk in, it was an emotional rollercoaster. He wasn't just a late bloomer; he wasn't meant to blossom at all. In his childhood innocence, he embraced his supposed independence and declared that girls were gross and he could live without someone by his side forever. But as adolescence took over, he found himself increasingly on the sidelines, watching as close friends shared stories of connection and love, filling him with a painful mix of envy and despair.

Every tale of someone else's romance felt like a dagger to the heart, a wound that refused to heal. Lando couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve this solitary fate in a world where everyone else seemed to find their soulmates.

Occasionally, he gazed up at the dark expanse above, yearning for solutions. Had the universe overlooked him or was love just not in his destiny? Some claimed that soulmates were like atoms connected since before the Big Bang, their bond enduring despite eons passing. But what did this mean for Lando? Was he destined for a solitary life even before the cosmos took shape?

As an adult, Lando struggled to convince himself that he had come to terms with his fate. He told himself over and over again that finding true love was possible without a soulmate being involved. It didn't have to be some cosmic arrangement. Yet, deep down, even as he tried to comfort himself with this reasoning, he couldn't shake the desire for something more. He yearned to be uniquely crafted for someone, to be cherished wholeheartedly despite his imperfections and weaknesses.

Lando shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts and back into the present moment. The unforgiving Melbourne sun beat down on him, its golden rays spreading across the circuit. Heat radiated all around him, almost suffocating in its intensity. He cursed his decision to wear an orange hoodie that morning as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Walking from the entrance to his garage, he couldn't escape the discomfort caused by the heat. The thick fabric clung to his skin, trapping him in its grasp as the temperature continued to rise.

Beside him, Oscar emanated an infectious energy. The pilot was fully immersed in the atmosphere of his home country's race, evident through his beaming smile. Despite the hustle and bustle around them, they maintained a calm demeanor, as if they were in a world of their own, oblivious to the cameras of the photographers trying to capture every moment.

Lando observed Oscar's anxious glances, as if he was searching for a particular person.

Deciding to break the silence, Lando asked, "Has your family arrived?"

Oscar's mind seemed elsewhere as he replied, "Oh, yeah. They're here. I'm just looking for someone else."

Someone else. Lando's brow furrowed as he thought about the mysterious bond between Oscar and his soulmate. Every now and then, without warning or explanation, the Australian would switch places with the girl he was connected to. Initially, Lando feared that this could happen during a race and result in a disastrous outcome. However, he soon realized that the universe was smart enough to only make these switches when both were safe.

"You met her?" Lando finally asked, curious about Oscar's soulmate. He looked at him with confusion before smiling sadly.

"Not yet, and she's not the one i'm looking or," Oscar replied, bringing a small sense of relief to Lando. He immediately felt guilty for wishing that others wouldn't find their soulmates, knowing it was selfish and petty.

Additionally, Lando could recall a peculiar incident from the previous year, when Oscar suddenly disappeared, and a girl had surprisingly turned up in the McLaren garage, clad in pajamas and exuding an unusual calmness about the situation. He remembered her as a charming and witty girl, and the thought that Oscar had someone special to share his life with brought a comforting warmth to Lando's heart, though it was tinged with a hint of jealousy.

"I have a friend coming over today," Oscar interjected, breaking through Lando's thoughts. "We went to elementary school together, but it's been a while since we've seen each other. She finished college last year, and managed to take a few days off to visit."

Lando nodded along as Oscar talked about his friend, dividing his attention between their conversation and the busy paddock. He couldn't help but notice weird stains on the ground and wished people would be more considerate of the space.

The two McLaren pilots still had a few minutes before the first meeting and the final free practice before qualifying. They decided to take refuge from the scorching sun inside their respective driver's rooms, seeking a moment of tranquility before the hustle and bustle of the track.

Lando made his way down the narrow path to the driver's room, noticing strange marks on the floor. The team garage was typically spotless, and he couldn't comprehend how it had become so messy.

"Who the hell made this mess?" Lando furrowed his brow and glanced around the room.

Oscar, perplexed, asked, "What mess?"

With a chuckle, Lando replied, "Are you blind? Look at the damn floor, it's covered in stains." He pointed to the ground with his arm.

Oscar tried to play along, forcing a laugh. "Mate, did you hit your head on the way here? The floor is spotless, as always."

Lando's eyes narrowed as he examined the stains on the ground more closely. What he imagined was dirt from a worker's shoe, appeared to not be random splatters; they seemed deliberate, almost forming a pattern. And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, Lando's heart skipped a beat as he realized the stains looked like footsteps.

"This is strange," he muttered, crouching down to get a better look.

Hearing Lando's concern, Oscar joined him and peered at the marks. "What are you thinking?"

Lando's mind was filled with various thoughts. He wondered if the intense heat was causing him to hallucinate. A thought crossed his mind that someone had wandered into the garage barefoot, possibly in search of new shoes. Everything seemed mildly possible.

Despite his efforts to suppress it, a nagging part inside him reminded him of the nights he spent wondering about potential invisible soulmate connections. He couldn't help but recall the excitement of discovering invisible threads - like leaving colorful marks upon touch or having their thoughts connect when within a certain distance, almost like telepathy. Things that wouldn't appear on his body when he turned eight, but still meant he had someone.

The 15-year-old version of himself seemed to be pounding on his chest, making him remember the thread through footsteps that he had long forgotten about, and started to question if even existed. Yet, Oscar didn't seem to notice the distinct marks on the floor and Lando couldn't possibly be hallucinating from dehydration.

Oscar placed his hand on Lando's back and felt a shiver run through his friend's body. "Lando, you're starting to worry me. Do you want to go to the medical bay?"

Lando quickly got up from the floor, shaking off Oscar's touch. "No need, Os. I'm fine." He forced a smile, but there was a lump in his throat as he tried to swallow down the fear and uncertainty. He didn't want to get his hopes up again, only to have them crushed once more.

"What do you think of the place?" Oscar's voice startles you from behind,.

A smile lights up your face as you turn around to see your friend in person for the first time in a long while. You eagerly embrace him with open arms, attempting to lift him off the ground like you used to when you were kids.

"Wow, okay, you're not as light as you used to be."

Oscar chuckles, and playfully returns the favor by lifting you up. "Nope, I'm not. Or maybe you're just not as strong anymore."

You tease, giving his shoulder a light slap. He winces and holds onto it, pretending it hurts.

"It's impressive." You answer his previous question. "So many people, so much noise, but I can see why you love it here." You take in the bustling atmosphere with a laugh.

The Aussie leans back against something and asks with a playful glint in his eye, "So, what's been going on in your world?"

You chuckle, immediately feeling at ease with him. "Just the usual post-grad life. Trying to figure it all out."

"Will you stick with auto sports?" He asks hopefully.

"I have an interview lined up to shadow a F2 journalist, so let's hope for the best." You make a gesture of crossed fingers. You thought that graduating with a degree in Journalism would give you direction in life, but almost a year later, you're still searching for your calling.

"It's already yours. I've never met anyone who could get honest answers from drivers like you do." He tried to calm you.

"I interviewed you once for a college project, Os. I don't think that counts." You chuckle.

"Come on, I was in f2 back then. That's definitely something to put on your resume."

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod.

It didn't feel like it had been so long since you two last saw each other in person.

As your gaze sweeps over the cluttered garage once more, something strange catches your eye, and you furrow your brow in confusion.

"Isn't Easter still a ways off?" Your eyes follow a trail of small, misshapen footprints leading around the room and you can't help but comment, "And whoever left those prints definitely didn't excel in their Arts & Crafts classes. They look nothing like bunny paws."

Oscar couldn't believe it. What was going on with his friends and footprints that day?

He squints and shakes his head. "I don't see anything," he says, trying to follow your gaze.

"Of course you don't. I've been telling you to get your eyes checked for years," you tease with a laugh. You walk over to him and point directly at the pawprint (that looks more like a footprint) on the ground that you can clearly see, even though it's slightly faded. Oscar looks at you with confusion.

"Are you and Lando in on this together?" He starts to suspect a prank.

"Lando? Your teammate?" You shake your head. "I've never even met him, Os." A mischievous grin spreads across your face. "But maybe I should."

Oscar's gaze shifted from the empty space in front of him. "Don't even go there, missy. Teammates are strictly off-limits."

You couldn't help but tease, "Why, does he have a soulmate?"

Oscar used to give you pitying looks whenever you mentioned not having a love thread, but it had been a while since then. He missed all of you - including your bad puns.

"I don't know. We've never discussed it," Oscar shuddered. He and Lando had grown closer over the past year, but the Brit never seemed to want to talk about that topic, so Oscar left it alone.

You continue to tease, "I still don't see why he's off-limits."

"Can you imagine how traumatizing it would be to see Lando making out with my best friend?"

"It wouldn't be any weirder than collecting bugs with my best friend and then suddenly having a random girl in front of me," your counterpart argues.

"Touché" It wouldn't be right for Oscar to dictate who you should pursue, especially since you had no control over randomly talking to his soulmate after swapping places. "It still would be fucking weird."

"You know, if two people saw those pawprints and you didn't, I think it's safe to say who's the one in the wrong here," You nudged him playfully. "Maybe you're just not looking close enough. Let me guide you."

Stepping closer to the mysterious prints, you crouched down and examined them closely. "They seem... fresh, don't they?"

Oscar joined you, squinting his eyes as he tried to make out any shape or form on the ground. "I swear, there's nothing there. Are you sure this isn't some elaborate prank?"

You shook your head, running your fingers over the indentations. "No, these are real."

Despite trying his best, Oscar couldn't make out what he was supposed to be looking at. "Alright, you got me. Congrats on your and Lando's little joke."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Your frustration grows as you wonder how he could have missed the obvious footprints right in front of him.

"He saw these so-called "footprints" too." He gestured with air quotes, convinced that his best friend and teammate were up to some strange prank together.

Before you could protest, someone called out your friend's name. "I have to go, it's my engineer," he said, getting up from the floor. He gave you a friendly smile that quickly turned into a knowing smirk. "And don't follow the footprints, Alice. They won't lead you to wonderland."

Wonderland or not, you would be stupid not to follow it.

As you follow the trail of footprints through the crowded garage, your curiosity builds with each step. You maneuver carefully around toolboxes and piles of spare parts, focusing on the prints as they lead you deeper into the maze-like space.

At last, you reach the end of the trail and come face to face with a closed door. Your heart races with excitement and anticipation as you stare at the sign above it: "Lando Norris' Driver's Room"

You furrow your brow in confusion. How could Norris' driver's room be connected to the strange footprints you've been tracking? Is this some kind of elaborate prank that Oscar roped Lando into as well?

Despite the nagging feeling that something was off, you stood your ground and refused to give into whatever it was that was trying to lure you in. You mentally prepared yourself to turn around and head back to Oscar's garage, where at least you felt familiar, and he couldn't pull pranks on you in front of his entire team.

And then, as if on cue, the door swings open, revealing Lando Norris standing on the other side. His presence fills the doorway, commanding attention with an effortless grace that leaves you breathless.

In that moment, you can't help but drink in the sight of him—the way the soft glow of the room illuminates his features, casting his angular jawline and chiseled cheekbones in sharp relief. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of azure, hold a glint of mischief as they meet yours, and you find yourself drowning in their depths.

Lando is clad in his fireproofs, the sleek material hugging his lean frame in all the right places. His racesuit hangs by his waist, a vibrant burst of color against the backdrop of the room. There's a confidence in the way he carries himself, a hint of swagger that speaks of countless hours spent behind the wheel of a racing car.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates you—it's the strange electricity that seems to crackle in the air when your eyes meet.

Your heart skips a beat as you find yourself in a predicament, searching for a clever excuse. You definitely didn't want to appear as a stalker-fan who snuck in. "Um, I was just... uh..."

"Oscar?" Lando interrupts, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Yes, Oscar!" You latch onto the name like a lifeline. "I'm a friend of his."

"He mentioned you," Lando nods, a friendly grin spreading across his face.

"Ah, so Oscar's been gossiping about me, huh?" You tease, a playful smirk curling your lips as you lock gazes with Lando. "I hope he said only nice things."

Lando chuckles softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Oh, absolutely. But he forgot to mention how gorgeous you are"

You feel a warm flush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, and you playfully bat your eyelashes. "Oh, did he now? Well, I'll have to thank him for the rave reviews later."

An easy silence falls between you, charged with unspoken chemistry and the promise of potential. Lando breaks the quiet with a mischievous smirk, closing the gap between you.

"Care for a little tour while we wait for Oscar? I promise not to lead you astray... too much," he adds with a wink.

Despite the lingering adrenaline from the close call and the unexpected encounter with Lando, you find yourself nodding eagerly. Oscar had been too occupied to give you a proper tour, and you were itching to explore the place.

"Lead the way, but I'm holding you to that promise of not getting lost," you tease, motioning for him to lead. As he begins to walk, you fall into step beside him, the playful brush of your shoulders sending sparks flying.

"Do you have a habit of getting lost?" Lando asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock dismay. "Define 'a habit'," you retort, a playful sparkle in your eyes. "When we were younger, Oscar and I used to roam around this massive mall near our homes. I lost count of how many times he had to page me over the speakers because I got sidetracked and wandered off."

"I'll have to keep a close eye on you, then," Lando quips. "Can't have Oscar's friend getting lost on my watch."

You chuckle at his teasing, reveling in the easy banter between you two. As he continues to show you around the McLaren paddock, pointing out various spots and sharing amusing anecdotes, you find yourself drawn to his effortless charm and infectious energy.

"You know, I never expected today to turn out like this," you admit, stealing a sideways glance at Lando. "But I'm glad it did. Especially if it means getting a personal tour from McLaren's charming star driver."

Lando beams at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Consider yourself lucky, then. Not everyone gets the VIP treatment around here." He pauses for a moment before adding with a playful grin, "Although, I must confess, it's rather challenging to focus on giving a proper tour with you flashing that smile."

Your heart flutters at his words, but you play it cool with a playful roll of your eyes. "You need to work on your flirting skills, dude."

"But do they work?" Lando counters with a cheeky smile.

"Maybe. Keep trying, and who knows where it might lead."

"Ah, so you're admitting my charm has potential?" Lando shoots back, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I didn't say that," you reply with a smirk..

"Ouch, that hurts," Lando feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Here I am, giving you the grand tour, and you won't even give me credit for my rizz."

"Okay, okay, maybe just a little credit," you concede with a laugh, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "But don't let it get to your head."

Lando grins. "Don't worry, I'll try to contain my ego."

As the tour comes to an end, you and Lando bid your goodbyes, thanking each other for the enjoyable time spent together. It's time for qualifying, and Lando is escorted towards his car by a member of his team. Just before he gets in, he looks back towards you with a faint smile. In that moment, his gaze locks with yours, and he freezes as a realization dawns upon him. The footsteps he had noticed earlier, weaving through the McLaren paddock, had a familiar pattern. They were from you.

He looks back to the path he took with you, and the marks on the floor as clear as day. They appear in front of his driver's room, in the small cafeteria where he took you to get the best coffee from the paddock (his words), and they follow you as you make your way to Oscar's side of the garage.

Lando's lips part slightly, as if he couldn't get enough air.

Before Lando could take a step towards you, his engineer's firm grip on his arm pulls him back. "Where are you going? Quali is about to start," his engineer reminds him, snapping him out of the mesmerizing realization.

Lando looks torn, torn between the exhilaration of discovering a potential connection he never noticed before and the responsibility of his racing career. He gives you one last longing look before reluctantly turning away, his mind buzzing with newfound thoughts and possibilities.

As he slides into the driver's seat and revs up the engine, he can't shake off the image of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and now, the footprints you left behind that seemed to lead straight to him. The engine roars to life, drowning out his racing thoughts as he steels himself for the high-stakes qualifying round ahead.

There were various theories floating around regarding why Lando secured the pole position. Some attributed it to an engine change, while others praised McLaren's performance on the specific circuit. But deep down, Lando knew that his main motivation was to finish everything quickly so he could talk to you.

He heard his engineer's voice in his ear through the radio, but he wasn't really paying attention. He knew he had interviews to do, photos to take, and a tire to sign, but as he stepped out of the car, his mind was consumed with thoughts of the girl he never knew existed.

After the whirlwind of interviews subsides and Lando returns to the bustling garage, his mind remains fixated on one thought: finding you. He navigates through the maze of mechanics and engineers, his determination unwavering.

Spotting Oscar amidst the commotion, Lando strides over, his expression a mix of eagerness and urgency. "Hey, Oscar," he calls out, drawing his friend's attention.

Oscar looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, a puzzled expression crossing his face at the intensity in Lando's gaze. "Hey, Lando. What's up?" he asks, curious yet cautious.

"I need to talk to your friend," Lando replies, his tone serious.

Oscar's confusion deepens, and a hint of protectiveness flickers in his eyes. "My friend? Why do you need to speak to her?" he inquires, his tone guarded.

Lando hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "I... I just need to ask her something," he says evasively, unwilling to divulge the true reason behind his urgency.

Oscar studies Lando intently, sensing there's more to the story than meets the eye. "Is everything okay?" he probes, his concern evident.

Lando shifts uncomfortably under Oscar's scrutiny, torn between his desire to find you and his reluctance to reveal too much. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assures, attempting to brush off Oscar's concern.

But Oscar isn't convinced, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Look, if you're going to involve my friend in something, I need to know what's going on," he insists firmly.

Lando sighs, realizing he can't keep dodging the question. "It's just... I met her earlier, and I... I need to talk to her," he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Oscar's expression softens as he recognizes the sincerity in Lando's words. He may be protective, but he also trusts his instincts when it comes to his friends. "Okay," he relents, nodding in understanding. "She's in my driver's room."

Before Lando can make his way there, Oscar grabs his arm, a serious expression etched on his face. "Look, I know we don't talk about this, but…" He hesitates momentarily. "I don't know if you have a soulmate, but she doesn't. And I don't want you giving her false hope, only to disappear the moment someone mentions what's on your arm, or whatever."

Lando offers a reassuring smile. "You're wrong."

"Listen, I don't care if your mark is on your arm or your ass, my point was-"

"It's not about that. It's about her not having a soulmate," Lando interjects.

Oscar's expression turns grave. "What do you mean?"

"Footsteps," Lando responds simply.

Oscar's frustration bubbles to the surface. "What's going on with both of you? First, you mention footsteps, then her." He glances at his teammate, who meets his gaze with a serene smile. In Lando's eyes, there's a glimmer of hope and relief that Oscar can't quite comprehend. Initially, he considers escorting both of his friends to the medical bay, puzzled by their strange behavior regarding footsteps that only they seem to perceive—

Footsteps that only they can see.

A sudden realization dawns upon Oscar, his eyes widening. "You two are soulmates."

"Hopefully," Lando murmurs. "I—I never thought I had one. No marks, no dreams, nothing. But this morning, I saw footsteps. And then we met, and I showed her around. We were side by side, so I didn't pay much attention. But before Qualifying, I noticed her walking toward your side of the garage, and there were footsteps leading there."

As the realization settles between them, Oscar reluctantly releases Lando's arm, allowing him to continue on his way. However, just as Lando begins to move away, Oscar calls out to him, his tone a mix of seriousness and jest.

"Lando, wait," Oscar says, his voice tinged with playful threat. "Soulmate or not, if you ever hurt my best friend, I'll make sure to crash into you in every single race."

Lando stops in his tracks, turning back to face Oscar with a wry smile. "Fair warning," he replies, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I can assure you, if I ever did hurt her, I'd deserve every crash."

The Brit's heart races as he stands before the door, realizing he doesn't need to ask Oscar about the girl when the footsteps guide him straight to her. He wonders if he'd ever noticed those phantom imprints before, dismissing them as mere smudges or dirt. And in a fleeting moment of clarity, he wonders if those same invisible marks had led you to his door earlier, tracing a path he hadn't noticed until now.

As Lando hesitates outside the door, uncertainty gripping his thoughts, he contemplates his next move. Should he pace back and forth until you notice the traces on the floor? Or perhaps he should boldly declare their connection as soulmates upon entering? Before he can settle on a plan, the door swings open.

"Wow!" You exclaim, your initial fright giving way to laughter. "Okay, I probably deserved that. Second time's the charm, right?"

"Uhm," Lando's throat constricts, his words stumbling over each other. In his mind, this conversation had seemed much simpler. "Look, I—I need to ask you something. Do you… have a soulmate?"

Your gaze hardens, but it's not anger that flickers in your eyes, only a hint of sorrow. "We just met today," you confess, your tone tinged with vulnerability. Lando realizes it might be an invasive question; after all, some people prefer to keep such matters private. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean—" Lando fumbles, his nerves getting the best of him.

"It's alright, I understand," you say, crossing your arms with a sad smile. "You do?"

"I do," Lando confirms, gesturing subtly to the scattered footsteps that crisscross the room.

"Cool," you respond, your expression disoriented.

"No, wait, that's not what I meant." Lando's frustration mounts as he struggles to articulate his thoughts. Was this what it felt like to be stupid in love?

"It's okay, Lando, really," you reassure him gently. "I know some people like to have... fun before finding their soulmate. I won't judge you for that." Yet beneath your understanding tone, a pang of sadness lingers, the thought of forever being a mere diversion rather than a final destination.

"Listen," Lando interjects, laying his hands gently atop yours, a jolt of electricity coursing between them once more. "Earlier today, you saw those footsteps, didn't you?"

"Actually, yes," you reply, confusion clouding your features. Oscar had vehemently denied their existence, leaving you to question your own perception.

"Me too. I saw footsteps this morning. Then I noticed footsteps leading towards Oscar's garage," Lando reveals, his voice soft with emotion. He silently pleads for you not to notice the trembling in his hands. "And now, I see footsteps again. Emerging from the door and heading toward the couch. A circle of them, right in front of the television."

As Lando confides in you, his vulnerability palpable, you begin to piece it together. Your eyes widen in realization as you look around. Although you can't see the invisible footsteps he's describing, you can distinctly perceive a path, stretching from the door to where Lando stands before you.

"Every step leads me to you," he murmurs, his gaze locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

A tender smile graces your lips as you absorb Lando's words, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. "I never thought I had a soulmate," you confess softly, your voice tinged with wonder.

Lando's own smile mirrors yours, a mixture of affection and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Look at that, one thing that we already have in common," he replies, his tone gentle yet playful.

You share a moment of quiet understanding, the air thick with unspoken emotions swirling between you. It's a realization that defies logic yet feels undeniably right, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring you together. Well, it did, didn't it? Maybe you should apologize for all the times your cursed at it.

"And here we are," you say, a hint of awe coloring your words.

"Here we are," Lando echoes, his gaze never leaving yours.

A mischievous glint twinkles in your eyes as you playfully tease, "You know, when I suggested you keep trying to flirt with me, this wasn't exactly the outcome I had in mind."

Lando chuckles, his grin widening. "Well, lucky for me, there's no one I'd rather up my game with than you."

You laugh, feeling the tension ease between you as the playful banter continues. "Smooth talker," you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

"Just stating the truth," Lando replies, his tone lighthearted yet sincere. "Besides, you will have to deal with it for the rest of your life."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the playful façade giving way to a deeper connection between you. "I suppose you have a point," you concede with a smile, feeling yourself drawn even closer to him.

Lando's eyes light up with mischief as an idea sparks in his mind. "You know," he begins, a playful grin tugging at his lips, "I've spent my entire life thinking you didn't exist. I have a lot of making up to do."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his bold statement, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, intrigued by his playful demeanor. "Oh really?" you reply, a teasing glint in your eyes. "And just how do you plan on making it up to me?"

Lando's grin widens as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I was thinking we could start here. I can't really go out, but my hotel has an amazing restaraunt" he suggests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "After that... Have you ever been to Monaco? Or Italy? Maybe after that, we could..."

You can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, charmed by his playful spirit. "I say you're full of surprises, Lando Norris," you tease, interrupting him, a playful sparkle dancing in your eyes. "But I like the way you think."

A bashful smile graces Lando's lips as he chuckles softly. "Great," he replies, his tone now tinged with a hint of shyness. "I've got a meeting to attend, but after that, how about we meet back here?"

"You'll know exactly where to find me."

As warmth floods through Lando's heart, a tender smile graces his lips. In that fleeting moment of realization, it dawns on him—he'll never doubt your existence again. Not when there's a trail of footsteps leading him straight back to you, a path he'll eagerly follow time and time again.

Lando Norris is a romantic at heart. The universe, in all its wisdom, understood that he deserved nothing less than the greatest of loves.

fun fact i actually hate this

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed. crossed names means i couldn't tag you) :: @saturnssunflower @sopheeg @minkyungseokie @alexander-hamilhoe @butterfly-lover @cool-ultra-nerd @tomriddleswhorecruxes @everbizzare @chonkybonky @styl1shl1v

[bahrtofane]

husband Jude headcannons

jude just really really enjoys married life

Word count - 2.3K+

Watch it - i got carried away sorry guys, proposal lore?? insanely sappy, even by my standards

—--

He's not a fan of you being known as his, rather he's your husband. Always correcting people during interviews and giving you the spotlight. Even when you shy away, not knowing where to look or what to say. He's always there, a gentle hand on your knee rubbing circles as he nods for you to continue. 

Every red carpet he wants to match, doesn’t care how big or small the event is. Gotta be a way you two look look a pair 

His fav is when you wear exactly the same thing so there’s no way to confuse anything for what it really is hehe 

Bouncing around while you get ready together, helping you get your shoes on while he tries his best to stand still while you fix his tie 

“Look okay?” he asks, head tilted 

You rub his arm, “you look great.” 

And he smiles wide, giving you pecks all over while you giggle, trying to shoo him away from you and closer to the door. your ride is waiting, but he doesn’t care. pouting for just one more kiss. please ? 

All his socials turn into your personal fan page, a big fat married in every bio, ring and all 

He has more posts about you then his actual job 

His teammates poke fun at it, “when are you gonna post us huh?”

He just rolls his eyes,”when I marry you i’ll think about it”

And that’s that

You're the first he runs to post a match, greeting you with the silly hand shake you perfected years ago. You think you could do it in your sleep at this rate. You came up with it ages ago when you kissed him after practice, playing with his fingers till he came up with the idea, and you with the actual hand shake. 

You're his biggest supporter, and him likewise. In every and anything you do, give him pompoms and he'd be your personal cheerleader at this point.

He just likes to have you at games. Waving obnoxiously while you tell him to pose. And he does, every time, sending hearts your way. He dedicates his goals your way. The kisses he would send the crowd in his youth now only go your way where you catch them like a teenager.

You see complications of it everywhere, he thinks it's endearing. He makes you watch them together on the living room tv while you grimace

“My face looks so weird there, oh my god.”

He flicks your arm, “you look great shush. Ha that was during el clasico, ah good times.” 

You roll your eyes but snuggle up against him anyway.

One of your favorite past times btw, nothing he loves better than a lazy morning in with you in his arms while he hits snooze on every alarm.

He tries to cook, with his stupid kiss the chef apron he got just for you. but he will need help, which you gladly give. You end up eating on the couch, covered in pillows watching cheesy shows. You've watched keeping up with the kardashians too many times to count and he still laughs out loud every time.

Jude is soft and sweet when he's not forced into a picture perfect smile and self 24/7. He's a silly guy, always trying to make you laugh. Teasing is his love language by the way.

But he's still sweet, leaving notes around your house for you to find when he has to leave for away games. Hearts and smiley faces littering every inch of the paper. Some frowny faces when he knows he'll miss you extra. 

He likes bringing you to family events and bragging about how cool you are, but everyone already loves you as is, he just likes to brag. Look at how cool the love of my life is everyone, I am sooo lucky you guys look look. 

Jobe has rolled his eyes far too many times, but he's happy to see his brother so happy. Plus you guys threw a fantastic wedding. A win is a win.

When you can't be there he facetimes you every second he possibly can. Blowing kisses when he has to go. 

“Judes been complaining all day I hope you know,” Aurélien pops his head into the screen. 

You snort, “ hello to you too Aurélien.”

He gives you a wave before ruffling the top of Judes hair as he pouts, fixing it just how he likes again, “they just don't get it,” he sighs dramatically.

You laugh, “sure baby, sure.”

You make sure to keep up with the match the best you can, texting him live reactions, even if you know he won't see them till later. He likes them all the same.

Your name on his phone is a simple "mine" with a bunch of heart emojis, the contact pic is one of the two of you together on vacation, smiling with your faces squished together while laying in the sand

It makes him smile every time. he thinks you’re the cutest

He's a big fan of nicknames, weather its a version of your first name, or just a good ole fashion baby. He rarely uses your actual name. He called you something so insane like pooki bear in public once and you have yet to let him live it down.

"in a restaurant was crazy," you squint at him.

He only giggles, "but it was soo funny baby come on."

Speaking of restaurants, this guy loves a good date night 

Gigdy as he comes down the hall in his pjs, grinning while showing you the new reservations, it’s your fav place ! 

Every anniversary he somehow finds a way to outdo himself, don't ask, because in truth he doesn't even know how he pulls it off, but anything for you. Anything. 

Even if it means hunting down the stuffed animal you had as a kid and couldn't find after you lost it in your couch cushions. He finds it, after months and months of searching, making Jobe help him look, it comes in the mail and he has to get creative to get you out of the house and away from the mail the day it's supposed to come.

It gets neatly wrapped and placed on your shared bed the morning of, surrounded by a collection of other gifts, your favorite flowers, and a cheesy note that you always end up crying at. 

The look on your face makes it all worth it, when you tackle him in a bone crushing hug, tumbling into the covers in a tangle of legs while you laugh in between sniffles, he loves you. Oh how he loves you 

It's been a tradition to end the night with the very place he proposed, his home, now yours. 

He doesnt think he could forget it even if he tried. It was a whirlwind of a day. Picture this: 

He's lost all his black socks, his (and your) favorite body wash just spilled all over the shower, his hair looks awful ( he got a haircut that morning), his cologne isn't where he left it, and the private chef he hired isnt replying. All while you're not even awake yet. 

He calls his mom because what else are you supposed to do when you're set to propose and everything is going wrong. 

She only chuckles softly over the phone, “calm down jude, just breathe. You'll find your things, just take a breather and come back to things with a clear head okay?”

So he does. Sitting on his bed, towel still on, frowning. He chooses to instead pat himself dry, get dressed, and give himself a pep talk in the floor length mirror at the corner of his room. 

Turns out his mom was right, things fix themself for the most part, his socks are stuck at the bottom of the dryer, his hair isn't as bad as he thought, he finds a better cologne in his collection, and a perfect body cream. It's gonna be a good day. 

He finishes the last of the day of prep, getting fancy candles, a lighter, and greeting the decorator. Yes he hired a decorator. 

It's nothing over the top, just little changes to make his home look a little softer, changing out the curtains, placing lace table cloth with details in your favorite color. The main event is his second living room that gets covered in an arch of your favorite flowers, gentle curling to just kiss the top of the new antique chandelier that will be holding the fancy candles too. He hopes you like it. He really really hopes you like it.

He's had this planned for ages, since the moment he first met you he thinks. 

When you greet him with a silly good morning text he only grows oh so fond of you, excited to see you. He told you it was a fancy dinner at his place. A change of pace from the resurates. Both of you prefer a much more intimate night in then cameras shoved into your face while a hundred people all yell a hundred things while you're trying to chew your food. 

So you get ready, dress up and make it for dinner. When you see the familiar face of the chef, Karlos, you give him a wave and get seated. Noticing the new table cloth but you don't say anything. You don't want to be wrong so early into the night. 

Jude comes in, nervous as a school boy as he takes your hand for a quick peek, running around like a maniac back and forth. He looks nice, in a signature all black suit, and smelling amazing per usual. 

Dinner is amazing, full of your favorite courses and Jude is jittery in his seat. 

“You okay?”

He nods, a little too fast, “oh yeah. I am. Don't worry.”

You raise a brow but dont push, thanking Karlos for the amazing meal as he cleans up and heads out for the night. 

Jude gets up, telling you to stay put while he'll be righttt back. Don't worry, remember! 

He comes back, unable to meet your eyes while he gives you his hand. You take it, sliding out of your seat and following him down the hall. There's flower petals on the floor now, you look at him, but he looks anywhere but at you, chewing his cheek.

He leads you to the second living room, where the furniture has been cleared out. Replaced by a walkway of flowers and candles, leading up to where an arch of your favorite flowers hugs the curtain, new ones.

Gently pulled back to reveal the floor to ceiling windows that give way to his yard. And the most gorgeous sunset you have ever seen. A chandelier hangs above you, decorated with more flowers, and the most ornate candles and bulbs you have ever seen.

Your eyes begin to water before he even gets down on one knee, his lip wobbles, holding your hand the whole time as he confesses every little moment and reason for his love.

He loves you, he adores you. You're- youre everything. Truly and fully. You're the sunlight that kisses his skin, the stars he wishes to touch, to know, he yearns for you. Years to know you in your entirety, till he knows nothing else but you. For your name to only fully know his lips, for only he will fully know you. He sees no other, he knows no other. He wants- no needs, to give himself as he is. 

You see him, see him as more than just Jude Belingham. You see what others can not, will not. You see him, you know him. You know him better than he knows himself most days. You've seen all there is to see, all that makes him who he is. You know his stupid sandwich order at the place you hate but keep going to because you know how much he loves it.

You sit in freezing weather for the full game just to make sure you don't miss a second of him. The first to congratulate him, the first to mourn with him, the first to sooth his aches and pains. You're the face he looks for in a crowd, you're the first person he calls when anything happens. 

 And you love him with such ferocity it amazes him. 

You're full crying at this point, fat tears rolling down your cheeks till you can barely see him, and he finally gets down on one knee, fishing out a small velvet box from his inner pocket, opening it with shaky hands.

And he whispers, “will you marry me?”

You fall next to him, sobbing into his shoulder while you repeat yes over and over. He cries with you, till you're both laughing from pure joy. 

Who better to spend the rest of your life with then the man who loves you so?

Telling his family is the best part. You have them over for what was supposed to be a quick lunch, turned dinner, and you break the news at dessert, showing off your ring while they all gasp. 

They pile you into the biggest hug, smiles so wide they hurt and you laugh, you're going to get married! You think they just might be more excited than you are.

Wedding planning comes and goes both so fast and so slow. Youre so excited you can't wait, and yet every step of the way seems like it takes excruciatingly long.

Your wedding planner tries her best, bless her soul, but you want it to be completely and utterly perfect. Down to the types of chairs at the venue.

Jude lets you have your way for the most part, chiming in now and again, he trusts you fully. Knowing you're going to make it the best regardless. 

Leading up to the big day you think you just might pass out from stress and never be seen again, but the almost year of planning pays off, and you're married! 

The honeymoon is spent traveling all over while jude is wide-eyed, unable to believe he's married to you of all people. 

The press catches on soon after, even if your wedding was small and intimate. News comes out one way or another.

Jude only responds with a picture of you two slow dancing among your family and friends, captioned, “all you need to know.” and he pins it to every social media page. 

What a man huh?

[eccentricwritingbaby]

cooking up some fun with the sainz’

dad!carlos sainz jr x wife!mom!reader

summary - y/n sainz is a successfully famous chef with her own restaurant and ever since covid, she has been cooking on instagram live once a week. fans adore the sweet interactions between her and carlos and their little baby girl. 

masterlist

-

“mi amor, i am about to go live while cooking dinner,” you nod over from behind the kitchen counter, towards your husband whos sitting on the couch. he sets down his phone and turns to face you while you continue, “if you could just keep up with santana while i’m doing so, you know i still don’t want her face all over the media, porfa,”

“por supuesto, cariño. but you do know you don’t have to ask me to watch our child,” he lets out a chuckle as he stands, sauntering over to the kitchen where you are finishing wiping down the counters and adding extra tidiness to your lived-in kitchen. he slowly grabs both of your hands from the counter, removing the cleaning spray and rag, and intertwining your fingers. you inched closer to him and rested your head against his chest. carlos plants a soft kiss onto the top of your head as you begin your reply, “i know, carlos, but i just don’t want her running around the kitchen which is dangerous or having her face pop up more onto my screen than it already has. she’s four, she doesn’t deserve to be subjected to our lifestyle just yet,” you let out your vulnerable admission as carlos lets your left hand go and steadily strokes the back of your head instead.

“i know, i’ll keep a close eye on her,” your husband looks down at you with a quick smile before he eases you more, ”you have nothing to worry about,” with his last word he begins to bend down in order to place a kiss onto your lips.

“EWW!” your four year old yells out from the bottom of the stairs. she had very obviously just woken up from her nap with her dark hair flying in all different directions, her favorite meerkat plushie hanging from her grasp, and most importantly, a very happy piñon trailing behind her. ever since she was born, the dog followed santana absolutely everywhere. call it protection or just puppy love, it was still the cutest part of your little family. 

“and when did you wake up, señora?” you pull apart from your husband with a laugh in order to look at your daughter properly, but don’t miss carlos’ pleading gaze to ignore your daughters wishes and give him a kiss. you took one more glance back at him and kissed his cheek to meet in the middle as he released his signature smile and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“ahora,” she responds while rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and slowly beginning to trudge over to the couch. 

“mama is about to begin dinner, mija. why don’t you and i find a game to play while she does?” your husband proposes.

“okay, papi,” she says quietly before she gains some energy, “but only if we get to play hide and seek!” she squeals out in excitement. carlos laughs as you move around his hold to set up your phone and put away your cleaning supplies. 

his voice graces a higher octave, one saved particularly for your pride and joy, while matching her adorable enthusiasm, “hide and seek! santana, that is a great idea! how could i not have thought of it?” he laughs along with her as she pulls herself to stand up on the couch, legs bouncing underneath her.

“no se, papi! but i thought of it! so we do it?” she asks, looking up at him with her big, brown, wide eyes inherited from the man himself as he strolls over to her place. your husband easily scoops her up into a fit of giggles as he runs her into his office in order to plan out their game. you take this brief moment of quiet to begin the live, and continue to pull out your necessary ingredients as people begin to join. 

once enough people had joined, you share a bright smile and begin your discussion, “hola, everyone! today we are venturing over to italy for our dinner, and making some homemade pizza,” you begin to take out tomatoes and slice them as you carry on, “it sounds very simple, yet you can make it anything you want with toppings, which is the magic of cooking,” you glance up at the camera to notice the brief display of comments and continue to explain, “everything is going to be homemade here, the sauce, the dough, and the cheese! it’s a great meal especially when you have a little one who is just now becoming a bit picky,” you let out a chuckle as you think on to the many ‘no’s’ that came from your four year old as you presented her with different cuisines. one that never misses will always be pizza. 

“okay! i already made my dough last night since i knew i’d be pretty busy today, but i do have a video on how to make that if you want to know, it’s on my story in the highlights of my 'how to's',” you finished chopping up all your tomatoes and threw them into the pan with a bit of oil, “now we’re working on the sauce, so i just chopped up maybe a cup and half - ‘measure with your heart’ - as my abuela always told me, of tomatoes and toss it into a low/medium heated pan with some olive oil to cook it down,” you were about to continue, but instead were interrupted by a little giggle at your feet. you looked down at your smiling daughter as she reached a finger up to her lips in order for you to keep her location a secret. you shot her a wink and then pretend to zip your lips and throw away the key. your peripheral caught your husband sneaking around and looking near and far for the little fit of laughs that was sitting on your feet. 

“next up that i’ll work on is the cheese, we’re making mozzarella so im just going to start by putting some milk on heat using m-” 

“psst” carlos cuts you off from behind the camera, attempting, attempting, to not interrupt. once you give him a confused look he begins to mouth out ‘donde?” while confusion etches his face as well. you stifle a laugh and give him an obvious glance down to your feet in order to hint. his head falls back with a smile and he rounds the corner of the counter to catch his daughter. you view the scene playout and begin to stir around the wilted tomatoes on the stove, santana screeching in joy as carlos comes onto the screen of your live, picking up his daughter while reciting the chant, ‘i’ve found you, mija!’ ‘i’ve found you!’ and you just look on in awe. 

the comments begin to fly by at lightning speed due to the domestic bliss your family carried onto the screen. carlos, still holding a giggly santana, checks you over while looking between you and your phone, “lo siento, amor,” he stretches his puppy dog eyes towards you and you can’t help but swoon, “it’s okay, enjoy hiding from this little detective next, baby,” before carlos could even respond, a resounding sound of disgust is let out from the four year old and she squeaks out, “i your baby mama! not papi,” she holds onto her pout and crosses her arms tightly as she looks between you two. you turn the heat low on the stove for both your projects and head over to where your husband and baby are, slowly repeating back to her, “you are my baby, princesa,” bringing your hands up to her tummy you begin to make her emit her loud and infectious laughter to you and carlos. 

the comments poured over on your phone as you left your love-bubble to take a look at them, one stuck out and you replied, still holding a slight laugh in your voice, “yes, we are very happy,” and you went back to smiling at your beautiful family. 

[lnfours]

Hi baby! Saw you need some inspiration and I thought, do you know the early stages of dating? Like, you are getting to know the person and there are aspects you don't expect and surprise you and I imagined the first time reader realises how much clingy Lando can be and it's just cute and lovey dovey 🥺 maybe he is sick or something and turns into a giant baby

hello, my love!!! 🥹 it's been a while, i missed you sm!!! i hope you're doing well! <3

also, i can totally see lando turning into a big baby when he's sick, and even when he isn't 😁

blurb day to cure my writers block

it was early morning when lando's name lit up your phone, a soft buzz following his text. you knew he landed late last night and when you called him just before bed he sounded a bit nasally, almost like he was catching a cold.

sure enough, the text you read on the screen confirmed your suspicions.

would you kill me if i asked to reschedule our lunch date? i'm feeling like i got hit by a bus 😩

you immediately texted him back, fingers typing quickly on the screen.

not at all! do you need anything? i can stop at the store and come by, maybe make some soup if you're feeling up to it ❤️

he felt guilty for canceling the date you two had planned out before he left, especially because he had been away for weeks. his head was pounding and his sinuses were all stuffed up, but as he read your message back to him, he couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face. the sweet words making his heart jump up to his throat.

depends, does the chef also provide cuddles upon request? 🤔

i'm sure they'd be able to make special accommodations, just for you 😌

oh, he was on cloud nine...

lovely, see you soon? ❤️

see you soon ❤️

you threw on the first pair of sweatpants and hoodie you could find before grabbing your things and rushing out the door, making your way to the store. after browsing the medicine isle for all different kinds of treatments and debating on wether or not to splurge for the extra strength medicine, which you did, you grabbed the ingredients to make the soup. the same recipe your mom used to make for you whenever you were feeling under the weather, the one that worked like a charm.

and shortly after, you were knocking on the door to his apartment. smiling sympathetically when he opened the door with tired eyes and a small smile, the hood of his black hoodie pulled over the mess of brown curls. he looked tired, and he definitely looked sick.

"'ve got every medicine i could find," you said, pulling all the packages out from the bag and placing them onto the counter, "and the ingredients for the soup my mom used to make."

he sat in the stool at the kitchen island, head resting on his hand as he watched you open one of the packets of pills. you popped one out of it's foil casing, turning around and grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water before sliding them towards him, "here, this should help with the head and stuffy nose."

he nodded, taking the pills before reaching out to you now that you were in arms length. you let him pull you closer, slightly giggling and wrapping your arms around him as his head rested on your stomach.

you had heard that men were big babies whenever they were sick, but with lando it seemed... different. almost like he had been hiding the fact that he enjoyed cuddling into you, not wanting to scare you off in the beginning stages of your relationship.

but you didn't mind, not one bit. you liked this, and you would've stayed like this for the rest of the day if you didn't have a recipe to start.

his words were muffled into your sweatshirt as he softly spoke, voice gravely, "thank you."

you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his hoodie-clad head, "'course,"

he picked his head up and you were met with the same grey-green eyes you were met with at the door, this time they screamed sleep deprived. you tucked the curls back underneath the hood, "wanna go lay on the couch while i start this? i'll join you when 'm done,"

he nodded, moving slowly towards the couch before flopping down, grabbing the blanket from the back panels and getting comfortable. he flipped the tv on as you tried your best not to be loud with the pots and pans, cautious of his pounding head.

and when the soup was finally at the stage where it had to be left to boil for hours, you made your way into the living room. you smiled softly at his cheek pressed against the couch cushion, eyes closed as he finally drifted off to sleep. you carefully joined him on the couch, stirring him awake shortly as he pulled you closer, legs intertwining with yours and his head falling to your chest.

the moment you realized you were slowly, but surely, falling in love with him. willing to do anything and everything for him as long as he was yours.

[tarjapearce]

Miguel's Pick up Lines

Just fluff and nerd talk✨

Flirting wasn't something he was good for, it wasn't etched in his dna. His pasts attempts in your early stage of relationship always ended up as awkward or in a laughing fit your way.

But far from making you uncomfortable, it always ended up in you kissing the daylights our of him, appreciating his effort to keep the spark alive.

Miguel wouldn't admit it, but he was practicing his own rizz. A term he internally chuckled every time Gabriella mentioned it.

He wanted to surprise you with his art de la séduction, cause in truth he missed your flustered expression. He needed to see that sweet and lovely face of yours going through so many emotions again.

It was one of those days he'd be stuck in the lab, mentoring the new employees in their induction to Alchemax's Research Department.

In his break, he took his phone and walked to a more private area to then video calling you.

It took the connection to stablish after a couple of rings, your face appearing in the lower corner of the screen with sweet smile and a couple of flour blotches on your face. Rosie on your hip.

"Say hi to Papa, Rosie."

Rosie blabbed while agitating the spoon

"She's gonna be a good chef." you smiled ad you wiped the flour off, "Everything alright, mi amor?"

"Yeah. I'm nearly done with the induction. Can't wait to go home."

He could hear Benjamin's excited squeals as he watched the TV and Gabriella helped with food in the opposite shelf.

"I made some horchata, Gabibi's helping me here."

"I learned how to make tortillas, Papa!"

Gabi's enthusiasm brought a smile on his face

"Save me some, Solecito."

You then moved to place Rosie on her floor playground. Then went to the bathroom and closed the door.

"What are you doing?" His eyes narrowed as you smirked and pulled out the silky elastic band of your bra. Eyes widened while his tongue swept over his plump lips

"Got a surprise for you, Papa. Can't wait for you to come home."

"Too bad you're not in my lab."

"Why? Wanna show me a theory, Dr. O'Hara?" you smirked and he followed

"Would prove my Big Bang into you."

A flush crept your cheeks as your eyes widened softly at the sudden comeback, not really expecting such comment.

His chest constricted with pride on your current state.

"I think I often forget I married a hot nerd."

"I'll remind you when I get home." He chuckled when you squealed internally.

"Can't wait. See you later, Dr. O'Hara." You blew him a kiss and returned to finishing meal prepping.

You had finished your indoor workout, sweat etched to your flushed skin. Miguel leaned against the door frame, an arm raised above him.

"Did you know that high intensity workouts increases your endorphin release but it's actually the cardiovascular exercises that gives you the major boost?"

"Oh really?"

He nodded while approaching and taking a hold of your waist. Gaze raking over your sweaty look. Your pheromones tickling his nose and brain.

"Yeah" He nuzzled your neck and you squealed in between giggles while he kissed your jaw

"Don't! Let me go shower first!."

He shook his head.

"We gotta do some cardio first, mi reina. Wanna have you extra happy today"

He threw you over his shoulder and walked back to the master bedroom.

And as good as some days passed, the bad ones were always in the lurk, waiting for you to fall into their claws to not let you go until tears rolled down your cheeks.

And after thirteen years of marriage it was impossible for Miguel to not know and recognize the signs of a bad day.

You'd barely talk, and if you did, it was usually short and monosyllabic replies. You'd go into a cleaning spree, walk around the neighborhood to try and ease your mind.

He stepped in when he saw the inner corner of your lids turn red, eyes bloodshot and a quivering lip as you tried to ease a fussy and wailing Rosie. Miguel pried Rosie from your hands carefully and rubbed her back in soothing circles, to then kiss the top of your forehead.

"I'll take it from here, mi reina. Go rest up."

His heart wrenched upon seeing you sniffing and rubbing your eyes while you went up the stairs.

Miguel arrived an hour later with a tray of freshly made food, a steaming cup of hot cocoa and some tissues.

"Do you want me to keep you company?"

You nodded, teary eyed. He sat next to you and put the tray on your thighs.

"Wanna share what's up there?"

He kissed the side of your head again and begun feeding you.

"I don't know how to explain it. It's weird. All I know is that I feel exhausted and sad. I feel so useless."

"Useless?" he frowned as he fed you another spoonful to then wipe your mouth, "Decaffeinated coffee is useless. A cordless jump rope is useless."

That made you chuckle and he smiled to give you another bite of food.

"I could list a shit ton of things that are useless, but you? No, mi amor. You're the main pillar of this family. Without you everything collapses within. Like a black hole."

His arm went around your shoulders and  kissed your head softly.

"But you ain't a black hole, preciosa. Like... You're so complex, beautiful and amazing. No wonder why the universe copies you and tries to demand our attention with stars and stuff."

He smiled upon your reaction.

"I love you, okay?" He finished feeding you to then massage your feet and shoulders.

Miguel walked into your room after you were done feeding Rosie and putting her into her crib.

He removed the bedsheets out of you to replace them with his frame, sprawled ontop of you. His head resting ontop of your chest.

Your hands immediately caressed his hair, earning a lovely purr from him, melting under your touch

"You know? Your digits got me feeling a strong exponential attraction. Wanna multiply?"

Your brow quirked with a goof smile on his words as he tittered silently.

"Forget I said that."

His airy laugh got your shoulders shaking with the same amount of fun.

"I didn't understand a peep. I sucked at math, mi amor."

He took your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist.

"But... I understood the last part though."

His head snapped immediately to you and smirked.

"Rosie is asleep" you scolded between hushed laughs as he swallowed you in his arms and pecked your lips repeatedly as you giggled and squealed softly

"Let's decrease the space between our organelles, shall we?"

[revelboo]

Omg the way you wrote that last Prowl one was *chef's kisses* The hate between Prowl and the reader scratches an itch deep inside my soul (it's the enemies to friends to lovers itch)

Oh, I do love that trope!

Stand Too Close Pt 2

Prowl x Reader- timeout

• “Are you even listening to me?” He demands as you make a show of yawning at him from your perch on his desk. Right before you just walk right across the screen of his data pad, ruining hours worth of work with little human foot prints. Gritting his denta, he very briefly entertains the idea of slinging the data pad across the room just for the sheer satisfaction of breaking something, because as he’s been told, you’re his responsibility and far too tiny to reprimand.

• “Not really,” you say just because you know how much it bugs him and sure enough those little door wings lift up, almost vibrating in outrage. Because he can’t do anything about you and he knows it. He also knows you know it. So offering him an empty, fake smile, you crouch to doodle a stick figure Prowl and scribble ‘blah, blah, blah’ around its head on his data pad screen. When he seizes the pad, you fall on your butt. Blinking as he slings it like a frisbee to smash into the wall and just looms over you, big hands in trembling fists as he glares. He can’t touch you. He can’t. “You can’t touch me.” Your voice wavers, though because he’s angrier than you’ve seen him. Maybe you’d pushed a bit too hard in your quest to make sure you’re ruining his life as much as he’s ruined yours.

• “Is that so?” He snarls, seizing you in his servos around your waist. It’s only your sharp, fearful gasp that makes him ease up his grip as he lifts you to optic level. Not so brave now. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him in very real alarm, for once silent. And he just stares back, because he has no idea what to do with you now. Putting the fear of Primus into your awful, little heart sounded like a good idea, but he’s not sure how exactly to do that. Can’t hurt you- he’s not allowed. “You’re in time out,” he finally growls, opening a drawer on his desk and carefully lowering you inside. He closes it almost all the way, leaving enough of a crack you can breathe. And just savors your shocked silence. Because he won.

• For all of five seconds. For such a tiny thing, you have impressive lungs on you, screaming human profanity at him. Mostly telling him to go interface with himself as you bang around in the drawer. You’re miserable, though and that’s a victory. Even if he now has to listen to your cursing, he smirks and steeples his servos. Maybe that’s the key to dealing with you, make you so miserable you beg Prime to give you to anyone else. Let you annoy someone else, be someone else’s problem. It’s what he wants, so why does the thought bother him just a bit?

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[daysofyellowroses]

noodles

carmen berzatto x reader | 1.9k | based on this absolutely adorable request from my darling @thecapricunt1616 enjoy it then i am beyond happy 💗🌼🫶🏻

It didn't matter how many times you shook the plastic stick, the little pink plus sign didn't fade. You tossed it in the trash can, where it joined three others with matching pink pluses. You couldn't really get your head around it, you'd been careful, taken things relatively slow..well, kind of. 

Things had just progressed a little quicker than you'd expected. One minute you're applying for a hostess job, thinking you probably won't even get an interview, seeing as it was a Michelin-starred hotspot, then next thing you're front and center at a fancy restaurant and spending large portions of your shift flirting with the head chef. 

It was never serious flirting, it was just silly and fun. You made flirty comments to everyone, you just particularly meant them with Carmy. He finally seemed to get the hint when you asked him upstairs after he'd dropped you home for the 10th time. 

Nothing really happened that night, you just shared a drink, cheap wine from your refrigerator, and made each other laugh with stupid jokes. You told him you meant it when you flirted, he insisted you were joking. It was only when you kissed him that he finally got the message, kissing you back with a fervor that had your head spinning in the most wonderful way. 

From there you two developed a relationship that suited you both. You were professional at work, still had some nights apart when you were both exhausted or just needed some alone time. But you had spent hours sitting on his kitchen counter watching him cook, told him stories from your past, encouraged him to tell you some stories too. You watched movies that you didn't pay full attention to, you read your book with your legs over Carm's lap, rolling your eyes with a grin when he would tease you for looking so serious. 

It was the best relationship you'd ever been in, and while you weren't sure what the future held, you were positive Carm would be a big part of it, that you two would keep going, develop your relationship.

Sure, you had thought about kids, marriage, a home together etc., but in a kind of just-for-fun-daydreamy kind of way. 

Now, one of those things was becoming a reality. It wasn't exactly how you would have planned it, you and Carm weren't even living together. Sure, you stayed at his most nights of the week and had more than a few personal belongings left there, but it wasn't the same.

It felt like moving in should have been the next step. The excitement of starting to really build a foundation together. You were just skipping ahead a step or two, apparently. 

Eventually you left the bathroom and chose to sit on your bed for a while instead. You called your doctor and made an appointment, more as a formality. Maybe it would feel more real when your doctor told you rather than seeing it on a plastic stick you'd peed on.

Once you were dressed you went to make a coffee before stopping yourself, wondering if it was ‘allowed’, even though it was so early on. You decided to play it safe, having a herbal tea instead, which you nearly choked on when your phone rang, Carmy's ID flashing up on the screen.

Did he know? How could he know?

“Hey,” You smiled as much as you could, trying to feel normal. “How are you? How is everything?”

You hoped you didn't sound too unusual or not yourself, feeling annoyingly aware of yourself.

“Hey, everything's good,” Carm replied and you felt yourself relax a little. “Just..there's been a slight change of plan for today.”

You stifled a laugh, nothing Carm could say could be a bigger change of plan than an unexpected pregnancy.

“Oh? You raised a brow, lightly tapping your nails against your cup. “What's up?”

“So, it turns out that apparently I promised Richie and Sug that I'd babysit while they have some meetings. I hate to ask when it's your day off but..could you help me?”

You couldn't help but laugh, resting your head on your head on your hand and letting out a soft sigh.

“Of course I'll help, don't worry. When do you need me?” 

An couple of hours later, you found yourself at Carmy's apartment, smiling as he opened the door looking flustered, a toddler on his hip and a doll in his hand.

“Perfect timing,” He smiled, stepping aside to let you in. “I'm outnumbered.”

“Who said I'm on your side?” You raised a brow, smiling at the little boy on Carmy's hip and gently stroked his cheek as he giggled. “I'm here to help the kids gang up on you.”

“Oh good,” Carm nodded, lightly tapping you with the doll. “Bring it on.”

You made your way to the living room, smiling as you spotted Eva on the couch, giving her a little wave.

“Hey girly girl,” You grinned, going to sit next to her. “Hope you've been keeping your uncle busy?”

“Yeah,” She giggled, leaning over to you as Carm came into the room. You leaned down, smiling as she whispered in your ear.

A half hour or so later, you went to open the living room door as there was a knock, adjusting the toddler on your hip before opening it and trying to keep a straight face as you met Carm's eyes.

“Hi, can I help you?” You asked, raising a brow.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Carmy nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “I have an appointment, I'm a little early but..maybe you could squeeze me in?”

“Maybe,” You nodded, biting your lip softly. “Come in, follow me.”

You turned and walked further into the room, gesturing to the couch. “Take a seat.”

“Yes ma'am,” Carm nodded as you walked to the kitchen door and opened it.

“Your two o'clock is early,” You said, glancing back to Carm for a moment.. “Do you want to fit him in now?”

You nodded before turning back to Carm and gesturing to the kitchen. “She'll see you now, come through.”

You walked into the kitchen and smiled as you watched Carm walk in, the smile on his face as he spotted the makeshift beauty salon that had been set up.

“Take a seat,” Eva gestured to the seat across the counter, an adorably serious look on her face. You placed the baby into his high chair by the table, smiling as you heard Eva boss her uncle around.

“Hands in the bowl, keep them still.”

You went to the fridge, taking out a little light blue lunch box before glancing over to Carm with a smile.

“What color do you want?” Eva asked, pointing to the handful of nail polishes sitting on the counter. 

 “Hm, I'm not sure,” Carm mused, looking at the colors. “I got a big date tonight, I wanna look my best. What do you think will suit me?”

You smiled to yourself as you put the lunch box in the microwave, laughing softly as you heard Eva tell Carm to hold still.

After lunch and Carmy's nail appointment, you decided to take the kids to the park, feeling a new wave of love for your boyfriend that he made no attempt to remove the red nail polish. When you were taking the stroller to the lift, one of Carm's neighbors passed you in the hall and smiled at you and realized that it wouldn't be long before the baby in the stroller would be yours.

You brushed off the thought, trying to focus on just having a nice, fun day. As you were en route to the park, Carm asked if you could have a little detour, and you were sure the look on the kids faces when you arrived at build-a-bear would never leave you.

Carm took his nephew from the stroller and placed him on his hip before taking him to pick out a teddy, your heart swelling in your chest, moreso when Eva took your hand and asked you to help her choose.

You found yourself subconsciously placing your hand on your stomach, wondering what it would feel like to hold your own baby on your hip, feel their hand in yours, see the excitement in their eyes when they were presented with a cute little toy.

Carm's nephew had picked a bear (perhaps with a little nudge from his uncle), that ended up in a chefs uniform (that one was a total push), while Eva chose a bunny that she chose a performance outfit for. 

When you got back to Carm's, you were more than happy to chill on the couch, though you practically melted into it when Carm got a book and read to the kids (and their new toys) til they were asleep. 

“Not a bad effort,” You smiled, looking over to Carm and trying not to imagine the toddler that could be in his lap one day. “You might actually be pretty good at this whole uncle thing.”

“I might just be,” Carm grinned, reaching out to touch your hand. “Had help from the best though.”

“You're welcome,” You smiled, gently stroking his hand. “I presume that's why you're taking me on a..big date, was it?”

“Oh absolutely,” Carm nodded, looking serious for a moment before he grinned. “the biggest.”

“Hm, guess I'll have to get glammed up,” You smiled, looking over to Eva. “Maybe I'll see if I can get a last minute appointment.”

That evening, after a quick trip home to grab a change of clothes, you were back in Carmy's apartment. It felt so quiet without the kids, you found yourself putting on music just for background noise. 

When you were in the bathroom putting on your makeup, you felt a wave of nausea hit you, more out of nerves than anything else. You hoped it would leave, but before you knew it you were bent over the toilet, taking a deep breath as you waited for the inevitable.

There was a knock on the bathroom door when you were washing your hands, looking up at the mirror taking a deep breath. Even with makeup you still looked unwell. 

“Hey,” Carm smiled as you opened the door, the concern evident on his face. “Are you okay? I thought I heard..”

“I'm fine,” You nodded, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh as the concern didn't leave his face. “I just..need to talk to you.”

You walked into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and trying to think of the right words.

“Okay,” You began. “this is..really not what I thought would happen, and I don't know how you're going to take this but..oh god..”

As you buried your head in your hands, Carm was immediately by your side, his arm around your waist. 

“Whatever it is you can tell me,” He assured you. “I promise. Just let it out, we'll handle it.”

“I'm pregnant.” You said before you could stop yourself or build it up more, lowering your hands and looking over to Carm.

“You're..wow,” Carmy nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Well, thank fuck for that. I mean, I knew, but I thought you were dumping me.”

“Wait what?” You raised a brow. “You knew? How did you know?”

“I just knew,” Carm shrugged with a smile. “I mean, I guess I hoped I was right..I know it's skipping ahead a little but..I want what we had today, all the time.”

“Can you stop being so perfect for like one day?” You rolled your eyes with a grin, resting your head on Carmy's shoulder. “Or maybe just after the big date.”

[therapycat21]

All Right Now Part 5

Travis Kelce x Famous!Reader Description: The reader catches the eye of famous footballer Travis.

Warnings: None

Social Media AU

It has been almost a month since me and Travis had become exclusive and told the world. So far it has been amazing, we still both get hate but the positive comments outweigh the negative. A lot has changed since then I now have my own cooking and baking show on Max the streaming service where I have a new chef teach me how to cook or bake something they have made while some friends and family are there to help and join in.

I still haven't had Trav on yet even though the producers are trying to get me to agree to it.

Well he has partially been on the show, you can hear him sometimes in the background but still hasn't shown his face yet. Which fans have noticed all over Twitter.

The amount of information they are trying to get from us is insane but expected and it doesn't seem to bother Travis at all. If anything he embraces it more than anything. Which is definitely a difference for me considering past relationships.

Travis and I have been posting with hints of each other but not fully showing our faces, In a way it’s kinda fun but if only I knew it was gonna change by this afternoon. I just finished getting ready to start filming an episode for the show and now waiting for my guests to let us know they're ready.

 My special guest for today was a heavily requested Gordon Ramsey. The producers gave me a signal that Gordon was on the phone, I’m then greeted by him on the big screen so we could see each other. I wave and smile “Hi! Thank you so much for coming on today” I tell him still smiling, He waves and gives a small smile “Hello darling, It is an honor to be here with you and teach you how to make one of my most famous dishes today” he tells me, we talk and joke for a minute before we get right into cooking. 

After learning and copying his steps we’re then interrupted by a yelling “Baby!” I hear Travis's boisterous voice yell from the other room, I share a panicked look at my mom before looking at Gordon holding in a shocked laugh “What in the bloody hell was that?” he questions.

I give him a small half smile blushing, feeling everyone’s gaze on me “That would be my boyfriend, who I told I was filming today” I tell them laughing, breaking the tension a little, I hold my finger up before excusing myself. 

I walk into the other room where Travis sits manspreading on what was supposed to be a huge couch but he makes it look thirty times smaller and playing his videogame. I give him a small look before he smirks, trying to get me to come closer. I walk over and try to stand in between his legs before he pulls me into his lap.

I give in before giving him a teasing look “You know I’m in the middle of filming right?” I question. He smirks before putting both hands and pulling my face to his, kissing my nose “I know but I wanted to tell you, you look beautiful today, oh and Mom wants us all to have dinner together tonight, if that’s alright with you?” he asks I nod at him “yeah, definitely, does she want me to make anything?” I ask he tries to hide a smile before nodding his head slightly “If you can, could you make some empanadas?” I try to hold back a smile before it breaks out onto my face anyway “Of course baby, now I gotta get back okay?”

I give him a chaste kiss before heading back into the kitchen. “Oh, wait, who’s the guest this week?“ he asks before I fully leave the room. I look back “It’s Gordon Ramsey” he goes blank giving me a shocked look, I can already see what he wants to ask next, I smirk waving my hand towards the kitchen “Come on, come say hi” I laugh as he jumps off of the couch rushing us both back into the kitchen.

We are greeted by the shocked look on my parents' Faces, I stand back in the frame behind the kitchen counter waving Travis over more “Gordon, this is my boyfriend Travis” he walks into the frame “Hey man I’m a really big fan” I look over to see he has a cheesy smile on his face, I give a quick laugh regaining his attention “why you laughing at me, it ain’t every day you meet a famous chef” he teases “I know I know It’s just adorable to see you so cheesy over him.” I tell him before he and Gordon talk a bit more before Travis excuses himself back into the other room but not before leaving me with a kiss on the nose and a tap on my side. I break the silence giving a giant sigh “Okay let’s get back to it” I smile at the camera.

The producers are gonna be extra happy about that, now they're off of my back and Travis got to meet one of the greatest chefs. Gordon smiles giving a cheeky response “Just so you know, when you two get married I will be the chef for your reception” he says making my face turn even redder “Ugh, are you calling it now?” I ask smiling he gives a belly laugh “Oh I am definitely calling it right now, you two will be married I guarantee it.”

We finish the episode and we all say goodbye to Gordon. I now clean everything before getting started on the empanadas for dinner tonight, this is the first time I will be making something for his family to try and oh my god it is nerve-wracking. After making the empanadas and both of us getting ready we head over to his mom's house for dinner.

3 Hours Later

After having dinner and the family gushing over the empanadas me and Travis decided to head back to the apartment for a chill night in.

After getting showers and into comfy clothes, we both sit down when Travis breaks the comfortable silence “Is it okay If I post you sometimes?” he asks hesitantly Looking over at him from my corner of the couch “You know what, yeah I am okay with it” I give a small smile to him.

He gives me one before tugging on my foot to get me to come closer, I move to sit on his lap, He brings one of the throws down over us and we both sit there in our little bubble finally in peace. As I dozed off. Travis leaned for his phone taking a quick picture of them both and captioning “end game” before posting to his Instagram, happy he could finally show off his girl.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Note

This is kind of a fill chapter but a glimpse into their relationship with each other and their families! I love writing for them!! How do yall feel about this couple please let me know!! much love for all the support with this series;)))) TC21

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Like my writing? buy me a coffee! I would be so grateful!

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[uhmprobablynot]

HEAR ME OUT jock/bully!schlatt x nerd!reader 🤭

The way your brain works? Literal chefs kiss. I have a part two in the works that adds a bit but I didn’t want this to be too long. Let me know if you want the part about the game, and maybe some,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, other things :)

Part One > Part Two > Part Three

He is so mean. 

You watch him laugh in the middle of the student center with other members of his baseball team. Knowing Schlatt, he was probably bragging about a girl that was fawning over him like everyone seemed to do. You pretend not to understand why girls seem to throw themselves at him but his toned legs, tanned skin, and big stature that followed being a student athlete solved the mystery rather quickly. But he is so mean. 

Last semester when you were forced by your computer science professor to sit next to Schlatt, he used every chance to prove that. From constantly berating your programming work, making fun of you for minor missed calculations, to making you feel stupid for just not understanding some of the material. You were thankful that the class was finally over when December came around, hoping that you would never be subjected to that again.

Then January came and so did your American History course. When you walked through the classroom doors you almost turned right back around when you saw him already lounging at one of the tables. Legs wide and his arms back behind his head. Instead, you only cursed and sat at a table away from him. He smirked and moved to your table. 

“Aw y/n, how come you didn’t sit next to me this time?” He asked. You only glared at him and pulled out your notebook and laptop. Hopeful that your silence would make him move, but he stayed right next to you. The first week of that class passed by the same way as last semesters did. Schlatt insulting you or taking your notebook when you weren't looking. When the first test came around Schlatt taunted you. 

“Careful that you don’t fail this one too, we both know your testing average.” Schlatt smirked to himself as he saw you take a steadying breath. 

The next class meeting the professor passed the tests back out. You beamed as you saw the 97 in red ink at the top of the paper, but you also saw the 53 at the top of Schlatt’s. You did your best not to smirk, good riddance, you thought to your self.

Weeks passed just like that, Schlatt making passes at your intelligence. Yet, each week you watched as his grades stayed around the 50-70 percent mark. The scores only dropped lower once baseball started, and so did his comments about your intelligence. Instead his comments focused on things that were harder to just ignore. 

The professor was talking about Chicago’s ugly law in 1881 and Schlatt smirked and leaned over to you. 

“Looks like you wouldn’t have been able to leave the house in Chicago.” You felt your stomach twist. You were used to his comments but that one just hit harder than you were expecting. Nodding you felt tears in your eyes as you just focused back on the board in front of you. “Oh come on,” He poked your side and slowly his smirk shrank as he realized you weren’t backing down this time. 

As class was dismissed the professor called for both you and Schlatt to stay. You half wanted Schlatt to be chewed out because she had heard his comment to you, the other half just wanted to forget that it ever happened. 

“I asked the both of you to stay because I got this email this morning.” She pulled up an email to the big screen from Schlatt’s baseball coach. You didn’t read the whole thing but one point did stick out. If he can’t pass, he can’t play. Schlatt tensed up as he also read that part of the email. 

“Professor-” “Mr. Schlatt please let me.” The professor turned off the board and looked at the both of you. “I hoped that you sitting next to y/n would remedy your grade in my class, but it has not.” The professor took a breath. “I cannot offer too much extra credit as I have more then enough to grade now, but I will offer one project grade and advise to study and do my work.”

Schlatt takes a deep breath and thanks the professor. You shifted in your seat nervous and confused as to why you were here. “Y/n, I wanted you here because you are my best student, I was hoping that you would be willing to form a study group or help Mr. Schlatt.” You begin to shake your head, his previous words echoing in your head. “If you do more than five hours of it, I will exempt you from the final, if you wish.” It’s your turn to take a deep breath. You look towards Schlatt but he was already looking at you, some kind of pleading look in his eye, so you agree.

The professor thanks and dismisses the both of you. The second he can Schlatt is up and out of his chair moving towards the door. 

“I have an hour before practice every day, at three. I’ll be in the library.” Then he leaves. 

The rest of that day goes by in a blur, the next time your brain kicks back in you're walking into the library. You see Schlatt already sitting at a table with his laptop out. 

You slide into the seat across from him and he looks up at you. You pull out your own laptop and pull up your notes for the class. 

“Did the professor let you know about that project?” Schlatt nodds and turns his screen to you. 

It’s a minor presentation and paper about how a topic of his choice has made a lasting  impression on american culture. You nodd as you process the information. 

“No -I don't have any ideas yet.” 

“Okay,” you both sit in silence for a minute. The project was due before the final, so Schlatt had a good month to work on it. “We have a test on Friday, do you want to work on that some?” Schlatt only shrugs and you slowly start. 

“Why is, what do, why-” You struggled asking. He smirked at your struggle before remembering he was using his mean face right now. “Why do you think you are struggling so much?” You whisper. Schlatt straightens in his seat.

“I just forget what we learn in class,” He clears his throat. “I zone out a lot.”

You smile to yourself, “Baseball that mind consuming?” He stares at you and thinks about your words before chuckling lightly. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

The tension between you two lightens after that. You walk him through todays lesson. And work backwards. About 45 minutes later your phone starts buzzing with a silent alarm. Schlatt chuckles.

“So eager to get rid of me you set a timer,  impressive.” You smiled but shook your head. 

“No, I know the field is a good five minute walk so I wanted to make sure you had enough time, I don’t know how harsh your coach is.” He seems taken aback by the fact. He smiles lightly and packs his things. You just watch him. Watching has his biceps move and how his muscles shift as his moves. 

“Here,” He reaches out towards you with twenty dollar bill. You watch him confused.

“I don’t want that.” 

“And I don’t care, dumbass take it.” You only shake your head and begin to pack up your things. He sighs. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow, idiot.”

The next few days pass like that. You meet at the library at three, the both of you study and work on his project. 

“Are you ready for the test tomorrow?” You ask him as he starts packing up for practice. He nods.

“The professor is going to make my grade viewable right away so I know.” Schlatt looks nervous. “I really hope I do well, I love playing, I want to play.” You stand up with him and touch his arm. 

“I believe in you man, you got this!” He stares at the hand on his arm for a second, hesitating before brushing it off him. He flashes you a smile. 

“Well if I don’t, we know who to blame, yeah?” Schlatt patts your head before moving around you and leaving the library. 

The test was easy to you. Studying with Schlatt keeping you extra prepared with the information. You leave as you finish the test, casting Schlatt a confident glance as you leave. A silent, you got this, that you hope he hears. 

As you exist the classroom you look at the benches lining the wall outside the classroom, and you decide to wait for Schlatt. 

He finally exits the classroom and you stand instantly. He spots you just as quickly.

“You didn't leave?”

“No, I wanted to check in with you when you finished.” Schlatt smirks at your confession. 

“Well,” he says letting the anticipation build. “I got a 95!” 

“Hell yeah,” you yell. “That means you can play right?” Schlatt nods. “At least tomorrow.” You beam at him, happy that the time has been paying off. “Speaking of," He stops for a second. "Do you want to come watch tomorrow?”

His question catches you off guard. He went from barely putting up with you to asking you to see him play within a week? Schlatt sees the hesitation on your face and retreads. “You don’t have to it’s okay-” “I’d love to,” You interrupt. “When is it?” Schlatt’s smile is blinding. 

“It starts at four,” He takes his backpack off and reaches for something. “Take this and wear it. I’ll let the ticket people know your name that way you get into the,” he hesitates slightly. “The team’s section right near the dugout.” You take the shirt he hands you. “I have class but, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” You nod and clutch the shirt to your chest. Schlatt smiles again before leaving the building. You look down at the shirt he gave you. The schools baseball jersey. You flip it over curiously and across the back is Schlatt and a big 14, which you only assume is his number. You laugh to your self, he gave you his jersey.

[avocado-writing]

Roland Blum x Reader

notes: nobody asked for this but I wrote it anyway. big shout out to my mate M who helped me brainstorm this and came up with some of the *chefs kiss* lines. might do a part 2 idk rating: E, minors dni

words: 2.4k

cw: utter filth. smut; excessive discussion of oral sex; pegging; you’re both switches lmfao taglist: @clarina04 @havaheart @angiestopit @cryptid-flannelhell @shadowluna25

Roland Blum fucking hates you. 

He hates how you think you know everything even though you’re just a kid. Yeah, sure, he was the exact same way when he was your age, but he also acknowledges that he’s a hypocrite and doesn’t care. He hates the tight little outfits you wear, because he’s a slut for a well-tailored suit and you know you look exceptionally fuckable in them. He hates how he couldn’t stop imagining bending you over his desk and drenching his cock in your tight little pussy, wondering what his name would sound like from your mouth as you choke it out through orgasms. He hates that you’ve rejected his every advance so far. 

Most of all he hates how you’re good at this job. It’s infuriating. If you were shit, like so many of the others he’s seen come and go through these doors, it might be different. But you’re not. You’re a fucking shark, out for blood. Just like him. 

He hates you. 

If there’s one thing that’s worse than you it’s your shitty little boyfriend. 

He’s constantly around, trying to earn your approval - and he does need to earn it because it doesn’t take much research to find out he’s a fucking serial cheater. He has this habit of falling dick first into leggy blondes he finds at bars which you don’t much approve of. And you fucking let him keep getting away with it! You don’t even seem to like the guy that much. Roland can see the thinly veiled disinterest on your face every time your boyfriend tries to surprise you with your favourite coffee or a bunch of flowers. You accept them, and the kiss he offers, and then look relieved when he’s gone. 

You need a good fuck. You need it. He can tell, and he’s sure your boyfriend isn’t getting the job done. Nobody sexually satisfied is as bitchy as you are. Except, maybe, for him. But his exception doesn’t prove the rule. He teases you about it mercilessly and loudly, and your conversations always end the same way. 

“Maybe if someone was taking care of your vagina, it wouldn’t have sand in it.”

“I fucking hate you, Roland.”

“Yeah, I know.”

But you work well together, that can’t be denied. Case after case you take on, and case after case you win. It’s nice that you can put your mutual loathing aside to be professional for long enough to help your clients out.

He knows where you’re meant to be meeting your boyfriend that night. That fancy bar in the penthouse of that hotel. Seems fucking stupid to him, bars should be on ground level, but what does he know. While you’re in the bathroom he gets himself something strong which goes down well with the pill he takes; he sits in the corner where he won’t be seen and watches you. 

You’re sitting on a tall stool, drumming your fingers on the counter. At first you look hopeful. Then you look at your watch. Over and over again. He can see the excitement leave you and you deflate like a balloon animal left in some kid’s room as time ticks by. Eventually your phone rings, and though he can’t work out every word, you have a very short conversation with the person on the other end, finishing the call by jabbing your screen so hard he’s surprised the glass doesn’t shatter. 

You head into the elevator. He follows you. You’re the only two in there as the doors slide shut and it begins its descent. He leans on the wall and looks at you, levelly. You don’t even seem surprised that he’s there, you just look sort of tired. 

“So,” he says, and you look like you’re bracing yourself for him to mock you like he usually would, but he gets straight to the point, “you gonna let me fuck you?”

You look at him, properly look at him. You seem to sum him up for the first time since you started at the firm, let your eyes trail up and down his body, taking him in. 

“Roland, you have until the alcohol wears off.”

You barely get the last word out, actually, because he hears your consent and fucking lunges for you. His mouth is hot and rough on yours, beard scraping your chin and cheeks, and he grins into it when he hears you moan. Moaning from a kiss? You are desperate. 

He slams his fist on the emergency brake button and the elevator screeches to a halt. You pull back to look at him, confused and appalled. He likes it. 

“What?” he asks, pressing his thigh between yours, up into your needy cunt, “You said I have until the alcohol wears off, I’m not wasting a single fucking second with you.”

You seem oddly charmed by that idea, but it’s only a quick flash of sentiment over your face before he finds your clit and begins to fuck into it with the width of his thigh. You begin to twist and writhe in pleasure against him, wanting to ride him yourself, but him not allowing you the freedom to do it. He grins as he watches you melt. 

“Knew you needed someone to take care of your little cunt.”

“I fucking hate you,” you snap, but he can tell your heart isn’t in it. Not this time anyway. He pulls off his suit blazer and, with a flick of the wrist that is too certain to have not been practised before, he manages to throw it over the camera in the upper corner of the elevator, letting it hang off it as if it were a coat rack. Seemingly happy that you have a few minutes, you let him kiss his way down your body and end up on his knees in front of you. He sees the hungry way you look down at him and wants to see it on your face all the fucking time. 

He makes light work of your tight little skirt, raising his eyebrows when he gets to your thong. You shove him with your foot. 

“What?”

“Someone thought she was gonna get lucky tonight.”

“Yeah, well, I fucking am aren’t I?”

He can’t argue with that. Well, he could, but for once he doesn’t. Instead he rips it off your body with his bare hand and shoves it into his trouser pocket. You yelp but any complaints you have are quickly doused when he begins to fuck you with his mouth. He is fucking ravenous for you, pressing his fingers up inside your greedy cunt and latching onto your clit viciously. You haul a leg over his shoulder and pull him in harder against you, your heel knocking against his spine. He digs his hands into the meat of your ass and hopes his fingernails leave little crescents. 

You come once on his fingers, heavy and slick, and look both exhausted and disappointed when he pulls his hand away. He sucks his fingers dry and nods to the elevator control panel. 

“Thing’s about to start working again. I’d get dressed if I were you.”

On cue the elevator begins to whir as someone somewhere deactivates the brake. As it starts to swoop downwards and finish its journey you scrabble to get your skirt back on while Roland grins at the show. 

He takes his suit jacket and walks out the door with confidence when they open, striding past the assembled staff with utter nonchalance. 

“Get that fucking thing fixed, almost ruined my evening,” he shouts at them, but anyone looking for too long can see his beard is soaked in you. You do your best to mimic his confidence, walking out as if the elevator room doesn’t reek of sex. 

He heads to the street, doesn’t say anything, but offers the cab driver two hundred dollars to ignore what’s happening in the back seat. You bark out your address and fall into his lap. 

Roland fingers you while you’re driven to your apartment. You’re one orgasm deep and high off it, and he makes you come again in the back of a dark taxi while easy listening plays over the radio. When the journey is over you grab his tie and pull him the two flights up to your home. He likes it a lot, being led like a dog, but there will be time to explore that another day. 

Because there will be another day. 

Roland takes immense joy in fucking you on the mattress he can only imagine your boyfriend has disappointed you on hundreds of times. He has stamina, you’ll give him that, and he ends up coming inside you three times over the following hours. By the end of it you’re lying on either side of the bed, sweaty and exhausted, just listening to the sound of your combined breathing. 

“Why do you wax?” is the question he chooses to break the silence with. You look confused, and he points to your pussy. 

“Oh. Personal preference I guess.”

“No, try again.”

“What—”

“I can tell when you’re lying. About this, anyway. Tell me why.”

You clench your jaw, but admit: “My boyfriend doesn’t like me hairy.”

Roland lets out a short, loud laugh that’s reminiscent of a bark.

“What, he afraid to get a pube in his mouth?”

“Roland!” you snap, and hit him with a pillow far harder than it has any right to feel.

“I’m just saying he’s a pussy. Wait, no, let’s not use that word, I fucking love pussy - he’s a coward. Grow it out if you want to grow it out, fuck him. If my face isn’t stuck to your cunt like Velcro then it’s no fun.”

You purse your lips but don’t say anything else.

The next time he fucks you, hair is beginning to grow there again. You’ve not really spoken about that night, and a couple of weeks have already passed. There’s been too much work to think about sex, anyway. Well, to act on it, at least. Well to act on it with each other - he’s not above admitting he kept your thong and likes to have the fabric over his mouth and nose while he jerks off into the toilet. You must know but you’ve not asked for it back, which he finds just wonderful.

The two of you are working late, main office lights off, lit by lamps, utterly exhausted. You’re in business mode, swapping ideas back and forth, butting heads a little but generally agreeing with what the other is saying. Excitement builds in the room and bubbles over to something else, and suddenly you’re in his lap stripping him off, and then he’s hefting you onto the desk and pulling down your skirt. He grins when he sees the slightly more natural state of your pussy and you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t say a fucking word.”

“Oh, but I really want to.”

You silence him with a ferocious kiss and he begins to slide inside, too horny to bother getting out of his clothes properly; which is saying something because he loves being out of his clothes. He sheathes himself in you and you throw yourself back against the legal papers, not caring about how they scatter.

“So, your boyfriend pissed you off again?” he begins to thrust, pushing his girthy cock even deeper inside your creamy pussy.

“You wanna ask this while you’re inside me?”

He shrugs. He’s still hard as rock, so doesn’t seem to mind the discussion, so you humour him as he begins to work your clit with his thumb.

“Eh, a little. He’s always pissed me off to some level.”

“Why are you with him? You seem to fucking hate him.”

“We’ve been together - aah! - since we were in high school. Our families are friends. It’s just – oh, fuck – expected now.”

“Ahh, expectation, the truest form of love.”

You seem to mull that over, sincere, but you’re taken out of the moment when he slings one of your legs up over his shoulder and fucks into you so deeply you think he’s about to split you in half.

It becomes a more regular thing after that. Your little boyfriend is still around, but he’s none the wiser that you’re spending every other night fucking one of your coworkers. And the two of you are amazing at fucking. Roland believes you could sell tickets to a show to watch the two of you going at each other, feral and needy. And you’re kinky, too! One night you wrap his belt around his neck and squeeze it so hard his vision blurs and he comes more than he has since he was a teenager. On another, you fold him in two on your bed and take your time stretching his ass open before you peg him with the biggest dildo he’s ever seen. A prostate orgasm can really make you appreciate the world a little better.

You see each other a lot outside of work now, too. Usually he feels like the little dates you go on are extended foreplay, where you can run your foot up and down his leg and press your toes into his dick, but sometimes he has to admit he just likes going out with you. You’re a quick wit, whip-smart, and fucking filthy. You’re wasted on going out with that pathetic asshole, you really are.

And one night the two of you are working late, again. You’ve both ordered Chinese takeout from down the street, and have found yourselves distracted. Not with sex, not with arguing, but with trying to fling battered chicken balls into each others’ mouths across the length of the office. You’re in literal tears as Roland tries to wheel his chair into the chicken’s oncoming trajectory only to lose his balance and tumble out of it, landing miserably on his ass.

You can’t breathe. You grip the edge of the desk for support, tears streaming down your cheeks, the long line of your beautiful throat exposed as you throw your head back laughing, and Roland finds himself fucking enamoured with you. He wants to hear your laugh all day, every day, forever, actually. He wants to go home tonight knowing his is the only cock you have inside you. Fuck it if that’s possessive, he’ll promise the same thing if it means you’ll be only his.

He’s fucked.

He’s so fucked.

Roland Blum hates you.

Except he doesn’t really. He just has to tell himself that, or he’ll realise he’s fucking fallen in love.

[pepi1989]

Hey there ❤️💃 love your stories! Ben’s been my fav for a while now and his stories? *chefs kiss* So fun and sweet, I absolutely love the slightly angsty one AND cuddly sweet ones 🥰

And it got me thinking and lost in daydreaming… how about a Ben one where tennisplayer! reader TM is mad at him, like seriously angry at him because he messed up for whatever reason and he works hard to get reader back?? Is that weird??

PS: also super happy everything went well with your surgery!

Hi babe! Thanks for the love 💖 I’m so happy you’ve been enjoying the stories!! And thank you so much for the kind words, everything’s going great now 💕

Making Amends - Ben Shelton

It’s not like I go around comparing myself to her. She's his ex, sure, but she was supposed to be out of the picture. And I didn’t mind when her name came up, Ben’s past is his past, just like mine is mine. But today, when I found out why he wasn’t there at practice? That was different.

We had a session planned, something fun, just the two of us hitting on the courts before the next tournament. I’d been looking forward to it all week. It’s our thing, the way we connect beyond the relationship stuff. So when I showed up, racket in hand, only to find out he wasn’t coming, because he was with her?

That stung.

I didn’t even want to know what he was doing with her. Something about helping her move, or some other lame excuse. But all I could hear was that he dropped everything for Olivia without even bothering to let me know. And suddenly, I’m the last priority.

My phone buzzes again. I glance at the screen.

Ben: Please just talk to me.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, fingers hovering over the screen, unsure if I should finally give in and answer. I’m so angry, but at the same time, the silence between us is starting to feel unbearable. We’ve never gone this long without talking.

Before I can stop myself, I hit “Call.”

The phone rings twice before he picks up, voice breathless like he’s been running.

“Y/N?” His voice cracks a little when he says my name, full of hope and worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice low but sharp. I don’t waste time on pleasantries. There’s no point. “Why did you blow me off for her?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, just long enough to make my heart sink. He’s searching for the right words, but I’ve already run through a thousand things in my head, and none of them make me feel better.

“I didn’t blow you off,” he says finally. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then explain it to me, because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

I hear him exhale deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down before he speaks. “I know it looks bad, and I’m sorry I missed practice. But Olivia needed help, and I thought it’d be quick. I should’ve told you. I should’ve texted-”

“You should’ve,” I cut him off. “But you didn’t.”

He’s quiet again, and I can picture him, running his hand through his curls the way he does when he’s stressed. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he says softly, “because Olivia doesn’t matter. She’s just someone I used to know. I didn’t think you’d care.”

That’s what gets me.

“I do care, Ben. I care when you blow me off without a word. I care when you don’t even think I deserve to know where you are.” My voice cracks, the frustration and hurt all bubbling to the surface. “I care when you make it feel like she’s more important than me.”

“I swear, she’s not.” He’s quick to reply, panic creeping into his voice. “She’s not. It was just… bad timing. You know I’d never choose her over you.”

“I don’t know that,” I say, my throat tight. “Because it feels like you did.”

He breathes out a curse, and I can tell he’s pacing now, probably somewhere in his apartment, trying to figure out how to make this right. “I messed up, I know I did. But please believe me, I was just trying to be helpful. That’s it. There’s nothing going on with Olivia.”

I close my eyes, leaning back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing. His voice sounds so sincere, but my mind is still spinning, replaying all the ways he didn’t choose me today. All the moments he could’ve told me and didn’t.

“What do you want me to say, Ben?” I ask, my voice quieter now, the fight starting to drain out of me. “That it’s okay? That I’m fine with this?”

“No.” His voice is firm, but gentle. “I don’t want you to just say it’s fine. I want you to tell me how I can make it right.”

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my fingers against my temple. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll do anything,” he says quickly, his voice softening. “I’ll make it up to you. Cancel whatever plans I have, make sure I never do this again. Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

I can hear the desperation in his voice, and for a moment, I wonder if maybe I’m being too harsh. But then I remember the empty courts, the way he didn’t show up for me today. I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.

“I just… I need some space right now.”

His silence feels heavy, like he’s holding his breath, trying to figure out what to say next. “Okay,” he finally whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll give you space. But I’m not giving up on us, okay? I’m going to fix this.”

I spend the next few days in this weird limbo, trying to sort out my feelings. Ben’s been good about giving me space like I asked, but the absence feels heavier than I expected. I miss him. But every time I think about texting him, that knot of frustration tightens again.

Then, on the third day, I find something waiting at my door.

A bouquet of flowers, wildflowers. There’s a note attached. I hesitate before picking it up, then unfold the paper carefully.

"I know I messed up. I just want to talk, please meet me at the courts? 7 PM. I’ll be waiting. - B"

I run my fingers over the handwriting, my chest tightening. It’s simple, but somehow, that makes it mean more. I know Ben, and I know that when he says he’ll be waiting, he will be, no matter how long it takes.

Part of me is still hesitant, the sting of our last conversation fresh in my mind. But I also know that if I keep pushing him away, I might lose him for real this time. And that scares me more than anything.

By the time 7 PM rolls around, I’m at the courts, the setting sun casting long shadows over the asphalt. My heart is racing as I spot him, standing there with his racket in hand, glancing around nervously. He sees me before I can even step onto the court, his brown eyes lighting up with relief.

“You came,” he breathes, walking towards me.

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” I admit, crossing my arms. “But I guess I’m here.”

He nods, swallowing hard like he’s trying to figure out where to start. “I know I messed up. I know I should’ve told you about Olivia, and I hate that I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that.”

I stare at him, trying to keep my face neutral, even though my heart is aching. “So why didn’t you?”

Ben lets out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time. But I get it now. I made it feel like you didn’t matter, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. You’re everything to me. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and before I can stop myself, the wall I’d built around my heart starts to crumble. I drop my arms, looking down at the racket he’s holding.

“You brought the rackets,” I say quietly.

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Thought maybe we could practice, like we were supposed to. No interruptions this time. I promise.”

I bite my lip, the tension slowly leaving my body. I missed this, him, us, the way we understand each other even in the middle of all the mess. I take a deep breath, letting the last bit of anger slip away.

“Okay,” I finally say, stepping onto the court. “Let’s see if you can keep that promise.”

Ben’s smile widens, and I can tell he’s trying to hold back the excitement as he hands me a racket. “I’ll do more than that. I’ll prove to you I can be better.”

We play for a while, the rhythm of our movements familiar and comforting. Every hit feels like a small piece of the puzzle falling back into place, and slowly, the tension between us starts to lift. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

After an hour or so, I’m panting, bent over my knees, laughing as Ben grins at me from across the net.

“You still mad at me?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes.

I straighten up, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “I was pretty mad, yeah.”

“And now?”

I pretend to think about it, dragging out the silence just long enough for him to shift nervously on his feet. Then, I smile, really smile, for the first time in days. “I think you’re starting to make it up to me.”

He drops his racket and jogs over to my side of the net, eyes bright with relief. “Good, because I’ve got a lot more making up to do.”

Before I can reply, he pulls me into his arms, holding me tight like he’s afraid to let go. I wrap my arms around his waist, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in days, I feel like everything might just be okay again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair. “I’ll never put you in that position again.”

“I know,” I say softly, resting my head against his chest. “I believe you.”

He pulls back just enough to look down at me, his brown eyes full of warmth and love. “You do?”

I nod, smiling up at him. “Yeah. I do.”

Ben grins, that boyish smile I fell in love with, and leans down to kiss me,soft, sweet, and full of all the promises I know he’ll keep.

[scribespirare]

Do you think you could write an a/b/o for omega Miles babysitting Mayday at HQ, and tsundere alpha Miguel doesn't know how to cope? The way you write these two is just *chef's kiss*

Nonnie i could kiss you for this request i love it so so much. i kinda...went a little nuts with it lmao. first its sappy then it gets sad and it ends very horny. its 2k long ajdfkdj;a. i think im gonna write the sex scene later and post it as a full fic.

There are very few things that can stop Miguel O'Hara in his tracks these days. He's been there, seen it all, got the goddamned spider suit to prove it. Surprising him is nigh impossible and he likes it that way.

For some reason, Miles Morales seems to be at the top of the list of things that can get to him though.

Miles, with his big dark eyes and his sneer and his inability to listen to common sense or reason. The Omega superhero who defies every stereotype about his gender. Who smells absolutely amazing and is stunning in action, lithe body built perfectly for his acrobatics.  

Miles, who is currently sitting in HQ's control room with Mayday in his lap, his face bright and smiling as she babbles at him. He's got her little hands in each of his own, lifting them one after the other as she stamps her feet.

"I know!" he says in response to her babbling, attention completely on the little girl. "It's crazy, right? Tell me more about it."

Mayday obliges, her babbling raising in both pitch and tempo like she really is going on a diatribe of some kind. She seems to be enjoying having a captive audience and isn't going to let it go to waste.

It's...well, Miguel really and truly has been stopped in his tracks. It's the first Omegean thing he's ever seen from Miles. Normally he's so contrarian and difficult, not to mention eager to jump into danger and equally as capable of actually handling it. You'd think he was an Alpha the way he behaves, small, lithe form be damned.

Seeing him like this, soft and sweet and smiling, his scent bright and nearly floral, is...doing things to Miguel. Bringing up feelings and urges that he's known were there, but which he'd been successfully keeping under lock and key.

Miles suddenly seems to become aware of Miguel's presence, and he looks up. His smile fades a little but it's a smile all the same, and Miguel's pretty sure Miles hasn't smiled at him since...well, everything. It looks good on him.

"Hey, wasn't sure when you were going to be back. Peter asked me to babysit for him though and I figured hanging out here would be better than taking her home with me. Not sure how I would explain that one to my folks."

The idea of someone mistakenly thinking Mayday is Miles’, that the Omega has a child, has been mated and more, makes Miguel’s nostrils flare. He clamps down ruthlessly on the reaction, knowing that if he doesn’t his interest will undoubtedly be noticeable in his scent.

“Just keep it down,” are the words that come off of Miguel’s tongue. They’re better than Do you want a child? or You’d make a good mother or, even worse, I could give you one of your own, if you want. 

Miles’ smile turns into a frown and then an unhappy twist. He clicks his tongue, says, “Whatever, man,” and goes back to Mayday. He’s speaking quietly to her now but Miguel can pick up his own name and big meany and assh- wait I can’t say that to you.

Miguel just heads for his central computers, waking them up and logging into the system to check on how everything is running today. But he can’t help the way he watches Miles’ and Mayday’s reflections on the screen. He can’t pick up many details like this but he can still smell them. Happy, pleased Omega, and the young, innocent scent of a child unpresented. Of babe and mother.

Christ, Miguel is going to hell for this.

It’s been about an hour of Miguel pretending to work but actually getting very little done, when Miles speaks up. “Hey, Miguel, you know stuff about kids, right?”

Miguel’s shoulders hunch and he breathes out slowly. Of course he does. He turns, glaring back at Miles. Mayday has been dragging him around the room with her crawling and right now they’re both hanging upside down from the ceiling, Miles sitting cross legged and her on his shoulders.

“Yes,” Miguel says sharply.

Miles’ mouth twists, but for once it doesn’t seem like it’s directed at Miguel. “Sorry, that was kinda insensitive, huh? I was just curious, ya know, about parenthood and all.”

Another bolt of longing shoots through Miguel. It’s part arousal, part wistfulness for his lost family.

You could start again, part of him says. Children. A mate. It’s not too late for you. He’s right there.

“What do you want to know about it?”

Miles shrugs, which causes Mayday to wobble dangerously and laugh delightedly about it. “Just, is it good? Like, hanging out with Mayday is great, but I can’t imagine having one of my own.”

You don’t have to imagine, Miguel thinks, but says, “It’s different, when they’re yours.”

“How so?”

Miguel sighs and holds out his arms to Mayday. Even though she’s halfway across the room she immediately lets out an excited shriek and climbs her way down a protesting Miles’ body. It takes only a minute before she’s dropping into Miguel’s arms and then crawling all over him.

“Kids are work and energy,” Miguel explains. “When they’re someone else’s, you’re happy to give them back after a certain point. When they’re yours, even when you’re annoyed or upset with them, you still know it’s all worth it. You can’t imagine a life without them.”

“Oh,” says Miles. He watches quietly for a moment as Mayday continues her excited quest to make Miguel look as ridiculous as possible, before he too crawls across the ceiling and drops down. Sadly it’s not into Miguel’s arms like Mayday had.

Gingerly, Miles’ takes the little girl back, and she goes willingly enough. “Sorry if that was like, rude or anything. And don’t kill me for saying this but you sound like you make a really good Alpha, mate wise.”

Miles is halfway across the room again before Miguel can reply, like he really is expecting retaliation. Miguel just shakes his head and pretends to go back to his work.

I am a good Alpha he thinks. I could show you. We could have a whole litter of kids. You’d love it. And then inevitably Miguel’s thoughts turn lascivious. He ends up losing himself to a daydream about exactly how he wants to breed Miles (facing each other, his fangs buried in Miles’ throat, Miles’ flexible, coltish legs wrapped around his hips, heels digging in to coax Miguel into fucking him harder) while watching the Omega’s reflection.

He doesn’t come up for air until Peter makes his appearance. The man gives Miguel a quizzical look but is distracted quickly enough by his daughter. He sticks around long enough that Miguel does actually get some work done, and when his voice finally fades away Miguel figures he’s alone.

That is, until Miles clears his throat directly behind him.

Miguel doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing. He turns and looks down at the Omega in annoyance, raising one eyebrow in a silent question.

Miles looks shifty, transferring his weight from one foot to the other like he’s thinking about running, but he’s got that mulish jut to his chin and a hard glint in his eyes that Miguel recognizes at the stubborn streak that’s lead them into more fights than he’d like to admit.

Is regularly wanting to throttle a teenage Omega better or worse than wanting to fuck him?

“Spit it out, kid,” Miguel eventually snaps.

Miles juts his chin out even further. “I’m not stupid,” he says, which, well he’s just inviting a scathing retort with that. Miguel’s expression must convey this because Miles rallies and goes on quickly, not giving the Alpha a chance to cut in. “I’m not! I saw how you were looking at me today, with Mayday. And then your scent…you were looking at me through the reflection on the computer screen.”

Miguel stiffens all over because fuck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grinds out.

“The hell you don’t! Even Peter smelled it. You’re into me, you smell like you want to jump me.”

There’s one of two ways Miguel can play this; deny it till his dying breath, or agree and pretend it doesn’t matter. His panicked brain picks the latter, because Miles isn’t stupid, and he’s tenacious as hell. He’ll hound Miguel until Miguel gives him an answer the Omega is satisfied with.

“So?” Miguel says.

That makes Miles pause, his eyes flicking back and forth between Miguel’s. He clearly isn’t seeing what he wants to though, brow knitting in confusion. “What do you mean ‘so’? So, you’re horny as hell for me.”

“You’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha,” Miguel explains slowly, like he’s speaking to a child. “It’s biology.” Which of course just ruffles Miles’ feathers and makes him puff up even more.

“That’s bullshit. You’ve never smelled like that before around me,” Miles insists.

Miguel is butting up against almost the exact same decision from before. Does he own up, or does he keep denying it means anything?

With a faint snarl of annoyance at having been put in this situation to begin with, Miguel says, “Most Alphas seeing an unbonded Omega with a young child are going to be affected.” The word horny will absolutely not be crossing his lips. “It sparks an instinct in us.”

Miles narrows his eyes, a faint smirk curling at his mouth. He thinks he’s won. “A breeding instinct,” he accuses.

Miguel turns his gaze skyward, giving a quick prayer to whichever poor saint is watching over him today to give him patience. “Yes, Miles. A breeding instinct.”

“I knew it!”

“Congratulations,” Miguel says dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now will you go away so I can do some work in peace?”

And there’s the chin jut again. Stubborn ass Omega. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The corner of Miguel’s lip twitches of up into an involuntarily snarl. “Well I’m done with you, malcriado. Vete.”

“No. I want to know if this was a one off,” Miles demands. “’Cause like, sure seeing an Omega with a kid might work for you, but my theory is that you’re already into me and it just pushed you over the edge. You’re too uptight to let your scent go wild like that unless you’re like, close to losing it.”

How the hell is this kid so damn perceptive? Clearly Miguel’s going to need to work on his defenses if Miles is reading him like a damn book. He sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose with two fingers, trying to figure out how to get out of this.

Well, he’s dug this fucking grave. Time to lie in it.

“Fine, Miles,” he says wearily, dropping his hand and making direct eye contact with the Omega. “Yes, I have more than a passing interest in you as a mate. Seeing you with Mayday made me think about having children with you myself. Are we done with this line of questioning now? Are you finally satisfied?”

Miles smiles slowly, then wrinkles his nose. “Having children with me, huh? That’s an incredibly boring way to talk about breeding. Why so family friendly? Just say you wanna fuck me. And no, by the way, I’m not satisfied yet. You gotta make good on all that before I let it drop.”

Silence reigns as Miguel’s brain just churns through the words, understanding them individually but failing to grasp the big picture.

“Not, like, immediately though!” Miles rushes to add, oblivious to Miguel’s plight. “I’m not ready for kids yet, not to mention my parents would kill me. But we could, you know, practice?” He looks stupidly hopeful, staring up at Miguel with that little smile on his lips, rocking forward on the balls of his feet.

“You…want me to breed you,” Miguel says slowly.

Miles snorts and rolls his eyes. “Well, practice breeding me. But yeah, that’s what I just said didn’t I? Get with it, old man, we’re wasting daylight here.”

Miguel’s never been one to follow orders. But how’s an Alpha supposed to resist?

[helpallthenamesaretaken]

EP 4 was just mostly talking and conversations, but there was so much depth THAT I MUST TALK ABOUT IT.

I could literally feel the anguish exuding out of Sally trying to teach Percy to swim

Ngl i was a lil skeptical about azrien’s acting but hearing that scream changed everything

“Hey, you still sleeping?” “Yes” she’s so relatable i love it

i thought we were going to wait until the zebra truck scene for the trauma bonding but we got some of it now which is cool and also makes me wonder whether they’re going to take it to a whole level in the zebra truck scene

I kinda like how annabeth knows so much about grover their dynamic in the show is just so chef’s kiss

I dont know if the whole “thalia made me earn it” thing is canon but its an interesting spin on their dynamic

Grover is such a mood pls shoutout to grover (this episode focused a lil more on percy and annabeth’s dynamic)

Its interesting how they changed frederick chase in the show. In the book frederick never wanted annabeth but in the show frederick loved annabeth. It makes more sense now that percy asks her to go back especially in the books, that was very controversial to have annabeth seem like she was overexaggerating about what she went through with them

i was waiting for them to introduce the searcher pan stuff i almost thought they’d erased it, thankfully they brought it up

ANNABETH’S FACE WHEN THE COP CALLED HER A “LITTLE GIRL” LEAH YOU’RE A ROCKSTAR

Medusa>>>>echidna in the show IM SORRY ECHIDNA WOULDN’T STOP TALKING

The architect in annabeth is coming out i hope she explicitly talks about it later on

I don’t think the writers knew what to do with grover when percy and annabeth were talking so they just made annabeth a little unnecessarily rude for some reason?? At least its better than the movies, where annabeth and grover just WALK AWAY from hermes and percy

i didnt expect the random posh voice it threw me off but it was so funny

OK but can someone help me with this? Percy in this scene says “i have a gift” to annabeth? Could someone pls explain? What gift?

Last episode i was cringing at the screen at percy for the “can’t we just call your mom?” This episode i was cringing at the screen for annabeth’s “you wanna say hi to your dad :))))” these kids have no sense of touchy subjects do they

you’ve done so much more to me in the past few days than poseidon has done in my whole life. If i have to stick with somebody, i—“ “be careful, you were about to call me a friend” THIS DIALOGUE IS SO PRECIOUS ITS WORTH A BILLION DOLLARS

Im suspicious about the percabething this series is doing so far, i feel like its too early, its giving me a feeling that there’s going to be some big angst thats going to happen later on to break the world

When Percy fell, i was genuinely thinking he was going to give annabeth a hug lol (“wow annabeth no you are my friend!!” Something like that)

alexa play jump and fall by ts

I love that they’re expanding the consequences that came with sending medusa’s head to olympus, and how it negatively impacted annabeth, which will probably turn angsty later on

Also, percy looks half dead

The plan to push annabeth into the stairs was executed so smoothly wow

i like they are exploring the very concerning side of percy too, the part of him thats like “im the useless one im ready to die no probs” ALSO THALIA PARALLELS THEY’RE DEF GONNA TOUCH ON THAT NEXT EPISODE

i like how the water grabbed percy like a little tunnel

Its so funny how the nereid says poseidon’s name and percy just starts struggling more like “HELL NO”

THE PARALLELS OF THE START OF THE EPISODE OF PERCY TELLING SALLY TO BREATHE AND THE END OF THE EPISODE OF NEREID TELLING PERCY TO BREATHE

What the heck is that throne thing? Why is percy turning golden? What is happening? HUGGGGGG!! (Too early, as i said), oh look ares—OMG ITS ARES!!

[ratherembarrassing]

“They’re Haunting Each Other”: Emma D’Arcy And Olivia Cooke On Going Head To Head In House Of The Dragon Season 2

Emma D’Arcy and Olivia Cooke have been through a lot together. The 31-year-old Gloucestershire-raised actor, whose turn as the older iteration of House of the Dragon’s fiery heir apparent Rhaenyra Targaryen earned them a Golden Globe nod, and the 30-year-old from Oldham who came to prominence simultaneously as the HBO hit’s strategic Alicent Hightower formed a close bond over the course of filming – one which became even closer after an eight-word exchange in their “get to know me” promotional video (“Negroni. Sbagliato. With prosecco in it/Oh Stunnin’!”) promptly went viral.

Countless OpEds have been penned dissecting the internet’s obsession with this moment, but key to its deliciousness was the easy, electric chemistry between the two actors. It’s apparent from the moment they first share the screen in the second half of the fantasy epic’s first season, inheriting their parts from Milly Alcock and Emily Carey, and immediately going toe to toe in their battle for power over the realm.

As the former friends’ relationship continues to sour and an all-out civil war inches closer – precipitated by the passing of Rhaenyra’s father and Alicent’s husband, King Viserys (Paddy Considine); a swift plot which sees his son Aegon (Tom Glynn-Carney) crowned over Rhaenyra, and shocks her into having a premature stillbirth; and the sudden death of Rhaenyra’s son Lucerys (Elliot Grihault) at the hands of the new king’s brother Aemond (Ewan Mitchell) – the pair are separated. But, even then, each remains at the forefront of the other’s mind, with two decades’ worth of regrets, resentment, love, betrayals and misunderstandings binding them together forever.

That indelible, indefinable connection is evident when I meet D’Arcy and Cooke on the eve of their show’s season two premiere in London. Subtly coordinated – D’Arcy in a dark double-breasted suit and Cooke in a black strapless jumpsuit – they’re prone to fits of laughter, constantly finishing each other’s sentences and clearly delighted by their reunion.

It’s a dynamic that you wish you got to see more of in Ryan Condal’s sophomore season – one which finds Rhaenyra consumed by grief and licking her wounds in Dragonstone, searching for a resolution that won’t see Westeros reduced to ash, while in King’s Landing, Alicent, having put her son on the throne, also tries to find a way to avoid more bloodshed. Meanwhile, their children, councillors and allies all seem hungry for war – and ensure there’s no turning back.

Ahead of the first episode’s release on 17 June, D’Arcy and Cooke talk to us about missing each other on set, letting loose at the pub and the clues woven into their costumes.

Season one was such a hit. Did that mean more pressure going into season two – also because you’re in the whole thing as opposed to half of it?

Emma D’Arcy: I think stamina was a big worry going in.

Olivia Cooke: And remained a worry.

ED: The great lesson was… four episodes out of 10? [Chef’s kiss] Fantastic.

OC: Stunnin’!

ED: We’d rock up, colour in our cheeks and love in our heart, shoot for a few days, go away for a couple of weeks, go back to our lives. I was on top of my laundry. It was an amazing time. But it was very different this time [laughs]. That’s galvanising in other ways, but certainly you have no choice but to have…

OC: Burnout. [Both laugh].

Well, Rhaenyra and Alicent are both dealing with a lot this season, as all these chess pieces begin to move. What were you most interested in exploring this time around?

OC: In terms of motivations and broad themes, for Alicent, it’s sort of about diminishing power. And what does she do when she doesn’t have agency or any semblance of autonomy within the castle? And who is she if she can’t shape the realm in the background? That was really interesting.

ED: And for Rhaenyra, I think grief is a major engine in the narrative this season. That was a key area of investigation for me, because grief manifests so differently in different people. I think there’s something beautiful in the way that [writers] Ryan [Condal], Sara [Hess] and the team constructed this series, in that so many of the key characters are in quite pronounced stages of grief when we meet them at the start of the first series, and not only does grief dislocate a person from their community, but it can also make people strangers to one another – like multiple grieving people can be quite profoundly changed. So, you end up with this family of strangers who are trying to navigate one another, and navigate the extreme emotional states that are happening within them, too. So, that as the image of the fallout of losing the patriarchal head of the family and the head of state is really astute and quite thrilling.

I read that Sara was also really interested in the fact that, in George R R Martin’s Fire & Blood, on which the show is based, the focus is less on Rhaenyra and Alicent in this portion of the story – she considered how women are written out of history, and wanted to write these two women back in. Was it fun to consider what they were doing in those gaps in the narrative?

OC: It’s quite a treat for them really, to do whatever they want with the characters. And also the book is, in its own way, sort of Targaryen propaganda – it’s taken from the accounts of men who want to blame it all on the women, to say that it’s their fault that there’s this huge chasm. So, trying to find the humanity within these characters and thinking about what they were actually doing and how they actually felt towards one another was really beautiful.

ED: You’re so right as well in that maybe that’s what creates such a rich relationship between the text and the screen adaptation – the idea that there is space for historical inaccuracy, and the question it raises about what doesn’t get recorded and who’s doing the recording. It’s very exciting stuff.

I also love that, despite being separated this season, there’s still this powerful, electric connection between Rhaenyra and Alicent. Did you get to talk to each other about that relationship at this stage in the story?

OC: I feel like Rhaenyra sneezes and Alicent catches a cold, you know? [Laughs] There’s this ripple effect constantly back and forth. Rhaenyra is this phantom to Alicent at this point. She gets bigger and bigger and bigger in Alicent’s mind and she’s desperate to reconnect and have some sort of face time with Rhaenyra to commune and say sorry but also try and put a plaster over this huge chasm.

ED: They’re sort of haunting one another. There’s a lot of death in the show, but these characters are also being haunted by the living, by the missing people in their lives.

How did you two deal with that separation as actors?

OC: We barely saw each other.

ED: Just in the car park, like, “How’re you doing?” [Laughs.]

OC: It is hard – the hours are so long on set, but I think, with the subject matter that we were embroiled in for all eight episodes, you have to try and keep it light and try to find the fun within the day. I’m lucky to be surrounded by incredibly funny people and so it’s a joy to come to work, even though, from action to cut, you’re trying not to cry.

ED: I… I missed ya.

OC: [Laughs] I missed you too!

ED: Like with Game of Thrones, one of the joys of a show like this, which has such an amazing, complicated constellation of characters, is seeing what happens when different people collide. I felt very lucky to get to investigate some different relationships this season, not least because it brings out different aspects of a character. Particularly with Rhaenyra, I think she has very complicated friendships with other women – they’re never straightforward, and it was interesting to think more about that and what that brings up in her.

After season one, I remember reading that you were looking for a pub near the set in Watford where you could go after filming to debrief. Did you find one? Did you find moments to decompress?

OC: We did our best. We’d meet at the pub – we’d allocate days, because we were on such different schedules. Also, we have drivers so you don’t want them to wait around while we’re at a pub in Watford and they want to get home. So, we’d either meet in town or decide, okay, this Saturday, we’re all going out. We had a mid-season cast mixer.

ED: And those things are important because you tend to be working six day weeks and 14-, 15-hour days, and it’s really lovely to put it all back into perspective a little bit and see everyone, including the people you don’t see while working. It’s great to witness people’s joy and excitement, especially people who’ve come into the show for the first time. Getting to have some evenings – that’s important.

You both have some incredible scenes. What were your favourite moments to film this season?

ED: Well, a way of dodging that question and any spoilers [laughs], would be to say that we were very lucky to have shot in north Wales for about five weeks this season. I love it there. I want to live there.

OC: You should!

ED: I think about it a lot. In fact, recently, I had a dream that there was like an underground train to north Wales. [Laughs] It was just amazing – the weather, the people, the locations. I would have happily shot the rest of the job in north Wales.

OC: And for me, I got to leave the castle and go to Spain.

ED: Which you did ask for, in fairness.

OC: If you don’t ask, you don’t get. They wrote it in and I hope it works for the plot [laughs]. I was in Spain for two weeks and that was nice.

ED: Alicent’s holiday journal.

OC: My vlog! [Mimics speaking into a phone camera] Here we are in Cáceres… That medieval town is stunning. For that to be your set every day – I felt incredibly grateful.

I’d love to ask you about your costumes, too, because I feel like there are subtle differences in them this season – especially as Rhaenyra grieves and gears up for war, and as Alicent experiences a different kind of freedom following her husband’s death.

OC: We might move away from green [laughs]. Maybe she goes to different shades of it? There’s an evolution in the way Alicent looks. We find out in episode nine of season one that one of her handmaidens has been spying on her, so that sort of devolves into her shunning her household staff and wanting to be alone more, because she’s paranoid. So, the hair is really pared back this season, as if she does it herself. I mean, I don’t do it myself – it’s too hard. The cut of her dresses too – it feels younger, in a way, like she’s shedding this role of an authority figure.

ED: Because she was aged up, in a way, by marrying Viserys. [The costume designer] Caroline [McCall] has done an extraordinary job. For Rhaenyra, there’s something quite beautiful about the way her costuming this season feels more traditional, in some ways. It’s as though it’s looking to historic shapes, almost like she’s wearing the clothes of the previous generation. In the context of having just lost her father, I find that very moving. It’s like she’s aligning herself with him, but also it’s a sort of coupling with the past. She spends a lot of time looking at the history of her family this season, as though she’s looking for a clue to her own future. She’s aligned with the old Targaryen gods. There’s almost a desire for small “c” conservatism in this conjuring of the dead.

And she’s discovering what kind of leader she is. I was really struck by the scenes where both of your characters are undermined at council tables by the men around them. While these two women are urging caution, everyone else seems ready for war.

OC: Yeah, it was being surrounded by these men who are so eager to have their names in the annals of history, regardless of the cost to the kingdom. It’s actually really hard on the day shooting those scenes where you feel so undermined and you’re being spoken over and you feel like… I also feel meek and bound and small. You feel this rush of emotion despite yourself, trying in vain to speak to this group of very hormonal, jacked up men.

ED: And for Rhaenyra this season, not only is her leadership, battle strategy and political campaign being judged harshly from without, it’s also being ripped to shreds by her supposed allies and councilmen. I agree with you that those scenes are hard to shoot – I find them so tiring. The text is great and, often, we are not given the words to meet that criticism in the way that one would like to. So, you are literally de-voiced in a room of men. And it’s interesting, right? Those male characters are comfortable with power in a way that certainly Rhaenyra and also possibly Alicent are not. There’s a rub in terms of being a character who has to actively put on the cloak of power and try to wear it and try to wield it in some way. Those men wear it without noticing.

I wanted to end by asking you about Bluets, Emma, which you’re currently performing on stage at The Royal Court. What’s that been like? And Olivia, have you been to see it yet?

ED: It’s been great. It’s a very technical show – we were basically in tech for five, six weeks. But, it’s been lovely. We’ve been open for about a month now. [Bluets’s director] Katie Mitchell, who is a big hero of mine, came back to see the show recently and it feels like… you know when leather wears in nicely? It feels nicely worn in. It’s a really extraordinary collision of artists, so I could never have said no to it. Plus, it’s my favourite colour.

OC: And I haven’t seen it yet, but I need to go soon!

[oodlyenough]

aa6-5 turnabout revolution

finished 6-5 over the last couple weeks, which means we've only got the DLC left for soj and the main series of games.

i gotta say ... i liked this finale a lot more than i expected to. i thought it was fun, and in turn that elevated SOJ overall. by far not the best ace attorney game i've played, but definitely not the worst. from the way fandom talks about this game and especially the finale i expected something awful, but i thought it had some fun ideas with mid execution, which is how i would describe ... basically every AA game after the og trilogy lol

anyway. more specifically (spoilers)

the first half of the case -- apollo vs phoenix -- is way up there on the "great idea, mid execution". i was immediately willing to assume phoenix had undisclosed reasons for doing his thing so i was immediately willing to let it slide, lol. "maya is kidnapped again!!!" is not the most compelling angle they could've done, but, whatever. also NPC nick seemed to have a brain in his head unlike player-nick, so that was nice

i also got a huge kick out of phoenix playing (essentially) the role of the prosecution and doing every dirty trick the prosecutors have done to him for 6 games: hiding evidence, leading the witness, manipulating the judge, etc. this prosecuting shit is easy!!! i imagine him making pointed eye contact with edgeworth in the gallery every time. also the idea of edgeworth and phoenix creeping around off screen for the first portion of investigation day 1 was awesome lmfao.

the fey lore was ???????????????? but i guess we can assume paul was lying about most of it lmfao so ... i guess. i WAS very annoyed by the kurain storyline mostly being about dudes and i did spend the whole case certain we were building to a reveal that the crystal of ami fey=the founder's orb bc ami=the founder. but uh. no i guess not. whatever

dhurke is a character i knew to be relatively popular in fandom but i can see why, he really cracked me up. actually his whole return out of the blue and apollo's extremely prickly reception are one of the relatively rare moments of interesting and competent character writing in these later games imo. i thought their relationship was handled pretty well and quite interesting. i mean, i suppose i find it a bit unreasonable that apollo got over 14 years of abandonment in like two days but lots of things in AA happen in hyperspeed

over in khurain i still found that case pretty good and even the trial days kept me pretty engaged, something SOJ had struggled to do to that point.

nahyuta is a bit of a weird one in that i find him overall underwritten and a little dull but i absolutely cannot fathom why fandom hates him so so so much while loving others lol, esp blackquill whose motivation is the same but more inexplicable. is he my favourite prosecutor? not by a long shot, but his circumstances were insane and his motivations were clear by the end and i ultimately just felt kind of bad for him. i liked him much more than blackquill or godot lmao sorry fandom.

but i still cheered when he was not the prosecutor for the last case LMAO bc i LOVED garan and her crazy anime transformation lmao, finally khurain delivers the True Fey ancestor experience: insane sisters who hate each other. chefs kiss. rayfa + garan + the dhurke/amara drama was very interesting imo. i knew that chick couldn't channell!! maya for queen tbqh

rayfa's a good character and i enjoyed her a lot. i was frustrated in the end that they tried to make it seem like her big development/inspiration/etc was apollo ... like ... it should definitely be phoenix, who spent more time with her and investigated with her and started trying to show her other ways of thinking etc. plus she just lost her parents and is clearly searching for guidance and it makes way more sense for her to find that in phoenix than apollo who showed up 2 days ago. i guess they're trying to 1. use the player character 2. push the dhurke connection, but it was stupid when shes obviously more attached to phoenix and/or nahyuta lol

jove "jangly" justice is the funniest name i've read maybe ever and i assume apollo's middle name is jangly. it's so funny how they build to doing his divination seance only to spend almost no time on him fhgkghhklg

anyway in conclusion i liked 6-5 a lot more than i expected. i thought it was pretty fun. i don't really get why fandom is so negative to this game, like even way moreso than DD, when this game is better by any possible margin from gameplay to animation to story coherency imo.

stray other thoughts:

-apollo's backstories are such a meme but i thought his backstory in this game made sense enough with aa4 (where he had no motive/little backstory at all and wasn't much of a player in his own story), and the characters implicated were real characters we got to spend time with and interact with. unlike clay.png

-edgeworth is there for No Reason At All (fanservice) and i find that deeply hilarious. he's nick's +1 and he had to sleep on the floor with a bunch of strangers and crawl through the sewer. hysterical.

-for maya fey's big return game i sure thought maya was going to get to do stuff besides what she always does in a finale, be absent for plot reasons. sigh. oh well at least i got a laugh imagining her and edgeworth spending the rest of the trial arguing about the plumed punisher while nick and apollo are held at gunpoint

-athena cykes sweetie i'm so sorry your role in this game was a fucking embarrassment. so insulting that they turned it all into impressing simon and shit, fuck off man!!! my earlier criticism of this game being sexist even by AA standards remains. even phoenix is like well i can't have you risking your life you're too young (reasonable) and then "simon would kill me" which she acquiesces to???? hfjhgkjg

-nahyuta bamboozling apollo's perceive power by being like "thats the secret... i'm always anxious" was so goddamn funny

[harlowsbby]

Chef Harlow 💘

Cooking wasn’t really your type of thing so when Jack decided he wanted to go live for his fans on Valentines Day and do a little cooking show you were a bit uneasy about it.

“Are you ready baby?” Jack grinned and wrapped the cooking apron around himself you couldn’t help but to laugh.

It was a little pink apron with white hearts around it and in the middle it said “kiss the chef.

“Wow kiss the chief? What if I’m trying to do more than just kiss the chef.” You grinned and giggled as Jack’s cheeks started to heat up.

“Baby, the live started like 5 minutes ago.” Your eye widened and you turned around slowing seeing about 7k plus people watching you.

“Oh hi guys I didn’t even know we started since Jack here didn’t say anything.” You said with a tight lip while shoving Jack back.

“I’m sorry baby but go put on your robe and your chef hat.” You stepped off to the side and put on your stuff before stepping back into the camera you gave the fans a quick wave and smile before pulling up the notes section in your phone.

Jack had asked if you could write up some questions for him to answer during the live and just ask some cute ones for Valentine’s Day.

“While I prep the cookie dough ima have Y/N ask me a few of her questions she made up.”

You pulled up your list of questions and smirked you forgot you had written down a lot of juicy questions and questions you wanted answers to.

“Oh this one okay actually let’s start off nice and easy before I get into the more detailed questions.” Jack’s lips turned upside down, what exactly did you mean by juicer questions.

“When was the first time you realized you actually liked me.”

“Damn when was the firs time I remembered I liked your big headed ass? Hmmm let’s see.” He joked, you glared at him and flipped him off making him chuckle.

“In all seriousness it was definitely during that time Druski was live remember?”

flashback to the live 💘

“Who’s that girl over there? The one on the stairs.” Jack asked Druski who wasn’t really paying him any mind nor attention.

“What? What girl I don’t know Jack, I don’t see any girl.” Ari rolled her eyes and looked at the stairs seeing you she smiled softly at you before looking back at Jack.

“That’s my friend Y/N, she’s definitely a sweetheart and has a heart of gold which means she don’t want you boy.” Ari barked at Jack.

“Well y’all should know me and you both should know that I don’t take a no for an answer so watch me do my thing.” He said cockily before strutting his way to the stairs. You looked up hearing the sound of footsteps walking up the wooden steps.

“Uh hi.” You said softly as Jack sat down beside you.

“I’m sorry if I come off creepy or something but I just had to let you know that I think you’re very beautiful.” Jack complemented you making you laugh nervously.

“Oh uh thank you Jack.” “You know my name?” You giggled and nodded. “Of course I do I mean I’ve been a fan since the longest.” He grinned making your stomach turn in a good way.

“Really? That’s so cool to meet someone who’s been apart of my journey since the very beginning.” Ari looked back towards the stairs wondering where Jack was since the fans on the screen kept asking where she was, but when she saw him sitting next you and watching how you giggled and slapped his shoulder playfully she couldn’t help but to relax and smile.

“Maybe he ain’t all that bad.” She mumbled and turned her attention back to the stream.

flashback over

“Awww that’s so sweet Jack I think I might honestly cry.” You teared up just a little bit. “Baby don’t cry you know you have an ugly cry.” He joked and you huffed before slapping his back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He joked, after a few more questions you eventually got to one of the main questions you wanted to ask.

“So for this one I need you to be really honest with me Jack.” He gulped and nodded his head his stomach starting to feel very uneasy.

“Alright… what’s the question?”

“Jack Harlow is it true you find me annoying and stubborn at times?” You held the paper above your mouth so he didn’t see you smile but you were honestly being honest you wanted to know if you ever gotten on his nerves.

“I mean.. well I mean babe look like sometimes you can be too much an-.” You cut him off. “Answer the damn question Jack, am I annoying just say yes or no.” He sighed deeply he might as well just tell the truth.

“Yes baby, sometimes you do annoy me.” Your moth instantly fell open you’d thought he’d at least lie or something but the fact that he just straight up told the truth honestly made you happy because that just told you that you could trust Jack.

“Please don’t be mad you told me tell you the truth and I told you the truth so technically you can’t even be mad at me s-.” You cut him off again by grabbing his face and smashing your lips onto his. He was caught off guard but none the less smashed his lips right onto yours, his hands immediately went to your ass and gripped it making you moan.

“Fuck baby hold on we’re still live.” “Shit I forgot.” You quickly ran off the camera and waited for Jack to end the live. “I’m sorry this cooking show was cut short y’all but I wanna have a treat that’s way juicier and sweet.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you making you snort.

“So let’s go finish what we started.” He grinned but just as he was about to get right back to it you stopped him. “Hmmm I think not since I’m so annoying we aren’t doing anything and I want my cookies so get to it chef harlow.” You stuck your tongue out before going to the living room to catch up on some much needed housewives of Atlanta.

“I should’ve known.” Jack mumbled to himself but none the less finished up your cookies. You giggled and sighed happily, a life like this was something you could definitely get use to. Jack was the goofiest and most sweetest men you’ve ever known and was the best gift you could ever receive for Valentines Day.

taglist

@hoodharlow @moody4world

@awhore4moree @heavyhitterheaux

@softtcurse @a-moment-captured

@lcandothisallday @jackharloww

@jackmans-poison @nattinatalia

@kalaharlow @toocriticalharlow