#every time I reblog something on here I’m putting it out to the universe as a manifestation

[jqtsblyth]

"are we on a date?"

pairing: tom blyth x bestfriend!reader x actress!reader

summary: you and tom met not long ago, but the connection you have and affection for each other turns into something more. tom is three years older than reader, she’s initiating in acting.

genre: only fluffy - at least for now

warnings: english is not my first language | no proofread.

N/A.: Hi! I really want to turn this into a series, but I need reader engagement to know if it’s worth it! Don't forget to comment, reblog, and tell me what you think <3 read my social media au here!

word count: 954

It was a cloudy and cold Friday, and you’re feeling completely tired. After several classes and auditions throughout the day, all you wanted was to be at home watching your favorite movies and rest with your comfy pajamas. Picking all of your stuff at the restroom to finally go home, your cellphone rings with a message from Tom, your best friend. Suddenly, there are some butterflies in your stomach… looks like the universe heard you.

It was a wonderful idea, right? Tom’s busy as hell since he got important roles and projects, and despite feeling really happy and proud of him, you miss him a lot and all of your quality times.

Something about the nickname gave you so much comfort and warmth in your heart. Tom was picking you up by car at your drama school in a couple minutes and you couldn't help but feel anxious in a good way.

"Hi pretty boy!" - you grinned while hugging him and putting on your seatbelt. 

Tom was wearing a gray sweater matching wonderfully with his pretty blue eyes. Smiling at you, he responded:

"I’ve missed you a lot, honey. How’s your day going by far?" - He said and headed on his way to the nearest coffee shop. 

"I’m just exhausted. We're in the final stretch of the Christmas play and I've never felt so tired. It’s like, I don't know, but my mind needs a break." - You sighed, staring in front of you, looking at the light traffic on the busy avenue.

"And I’m here to make your wish come true" - he chuckled. - "We can grab some coffee and watch silly memes on the internet like we used to do, whatcha think?" - Tom is always so gentle and lovely. 

Your friendship was really a very healthy, comfortable thing... and every time you saw each other, it was as if you never had any problems in the world. It was just you and him, inside jokes and comfort. You wished you could say how important he is to you, but instead, you simply nodded while you both entered on the drive thru and took your order. 

Tom parked the car at the coffee shop and you spent hours updating each other on your busy routines, laughing over tiktoks, singing... There were also moments of comfortable silence between the two of you, the calm you loved and needed so much. 

He looked different this time. You didn't know if it was because you hadn't seen each other for a while, but you could feel that something inside you and the way you looked at him was different. A few sparks every time he smiled at you, and you swore you could feel the same coming from him too.

Her cell phone rings, breaking her out of her reverie, showing a call from your mother. You realize that you forgot to tell her that you would be coming home later today, but all you had to do was tell her that you were with Tom and her worry would disappear. She loved him. Sometimes it seemed like she loved him even more than you, her own daughter.

“Enjoy your date tho”, your mother said cheerfully on the other side of the line. You couldn't help but chuckle and feel your cheeks burn, as you looked at your friend who had a confused expression on his face. Before you could answer, she hangs up the phone.

"What does she said? Why were you laughing?" - Tom asked with a funny expression while taking a sip of your already watery iced coffee.

"It’s nothing! Curious boy." - you poke him.

"I don’t believe you. But I know you enough to know that one day, when you least expect it, you'll tell me like it's no big deal." - He teased as he pointed at you between each word.

"I want to show you a video that I forgot to send you." - you tried to change the direction of the conversation, wanting to avoid confessions that might come out too soon. Your mother was always right, and it made you wonder if you were actually on a date with Tom. 

After a burst of laughter, you find yourself in a awkward silence trying to catch your breath. “It’s time”, you thought.

“Enjoy your date”, my mom said at the phone. - you finally confess, avoiding his gaze.

Tom looks at you with a surprised, but fun and provocative expression:

"So… are we on a date? Kinda looks like one to me." 

You can't hide your smile mixed with an expression of surprise and doubt. It's really impressive how Tom always found it easy to confess things, to be direct, but his goofy personality - which you loved - always confused you about whether he was being serious or not.

"I wouldn't mind if we actually were in one." - You said in almost a whisper, but he clearly listened.

Finally you find the courage to look into his eyes, and notice his calm smile looking into yours with admiration and affection.

"I thought you would never say that. You're a bit slow to even ask me on a date, frankly, buttercup!" - He scowled at you, making you laugh nervously. You're so lost in his "confession" that you can't even notice his hands on your thighs.

The comfortable silence that existed between the two of you suddenly became a little awkward. You take a deep breath, and slowly lean over him to join your lips in a calm kiss, with all the accumulated affection. He reciprocates by taking one of his hands to your face and stroking your hair with the other.

If there was any doubt about his feelings towards you before, it disappeared at that moment.

[indigovigilance]

Continuity Errors

Crowley can stop time. We’ve noticed buggy things about time. Let’s talk about it.

I’m going to start with an overview of every time he has definitely frozen time in order to establish the mechanics of Crowley’s time-stopping power in the GO universe. Then, I’m going to talk about other events where Crowley may have stopped time, and it wasn’t (directly) shown to the audience.

or read this 3,500 word beast of a meta on Ao3

edit: if you're deciding whether or not to read this, check out the reblog notes!

Opening obligatory "do not put anything about this in Neil Gaiman's askbox"

Crowley freezes time locally, selectively exempting individuals

S1E2

In S1E2, Crowley freezes time at the corporate training ground to interrogate Mary Hodges, formerly Sister Mary Loquacious (played by Nina Sosanya, actor for Nina in S2). It may seem like she’s just hypnotized and time is progressing normally around all of them, but that isn’t the case. Immediately before Crowley hypnotizes Hodges, we can hear gunfire in the background; a few seconds before Hodges is released from the trance, we hear shouting and sirens. But during the time that Hodges is entranced, all we hear is three things: the dialogue, music, and what sounds like the ticking of a kitchen timer. 

We could do a little bit of extrapolation from the fact that the beginnings of gunshots and siren sounds are temporally very close together, especially depending on how we measure time. Crowley turns the paintball guns into deadly weapons at 36:59. Crowley freezes Mary Hodges at 38:47. A ticking sound starts the same moment. We also hear what we will come to recognize as the “pause time” sound, a sort of wobbly sound. The ticking sound seems to stop around… 40:07? Right before the line about lovely little toesy woesies? It’s unclear with the overlapping tracks. At 40:11 Crowley says “let’s go” and we can hear sirens in the background start now. Aziraphale then snaps his fingers and unfreezes Hodges at 40:17.

So during 191 seconds of screentime, 84 seconds of it was spent with time frozen, if I accept the ticking sound to be the indicator. If time was only frozen locally, meaning just the paintball grounds and not the nearest police station and roads leading to it, then emergency services had just over three minutes from the time the first live round was fired to arrival. If time was actually frozen globally except for Crowley, Azirarphale, and Hodges, then emergency services got there in 85 seconds, or less than a minute and a half. Maybe Britain is doing something wildly different than here idk but I think the more likely explanation for the event timing is that Crowley is only freezing time in a local bubble. The shooters stop shooting but the police are still driving towards them while Crowley and Aziraphale are interrogating an entranced Mary Hodges.

The case with Hodges is kind of confusing because the audience is presented with a false dichotomy between “frozen in time” and “hypnotized.” It’s actually both. Crowley has frozen time around the three of them, but Hodges, like Aziraphale, was exempt. It just so happens that she was also entranced at the same time, which explains as well why Aziraphale can release her from the trance, since our best evidence indicates that he can’t control time.

S1E3 & S2E3

In S1E3, Crowley freezes Jean Claude, the executioner at the Bastille. Immediately before, we can hear the guillotine, screaming and jeering outside the cell. As soon as Jean Claude is frozen, however (13:29, complete with wobble sound), there is complete background silence, except for the dialogue between our ineffable aristocrats. When Crowley restarts time, background noise restarts as well. This evidence indicates that Crowley froze time for the surrounding area as well as inside the cell.

In S2E3, Crowley freezes Mr. Dalrymple. We don’t have definitive information about how much of the rest of the world is affected since the scene takes place indoors on a quiet night and there are no external cues of time starting or stopping.

S1E6: Freezing Out Satan

In S1E6, not only are Crowley, Aziraphale, and Adam pulled out of the normal flow of time: it seems that they are also pulled out of normal space. They appear to be in an ethereal desert where we can see their wings, but we don’t actually know where they are. The way we enter, inhabit, and then exit this time-stop is completely different from any of the other three explicit timestop scenes: Crowley must use his whole body to summon the power to cast the miracle, they travel elsewhere, then he must use his crankshaft to exit the time-stop.

I take this to indicate that freezing time when Satan is near takes a lot more power than freezing time around Mary Hodges, Jean Claude, or Mr. Dalrymple. Presumably, the power a being has, the more power it takes to lock them out of a bubble to stopped time.

Time Stop Mechanics

Here are my key takeaways from analyzing these four scenes:

Crowley isn’t so much freezing all of time as pulling himself and Aziraphale (and sometimes Adam) out of the flow of time. The effort this takes is dependent on the entities that they are “pulling away” from. It is easy to pull away from humans, so much so that they don’t have to pull away very far and can occupy the same space in a bubble of paused time. When he is “pulling away” from Satan, however, he must pull away much further, all the way to another plane.

Crowley’s ability is so powerful that he can use it to escape Satan. He could use it to lock out other powerful beings, if he wanted to, but it would take a lot of effort.

Aziraphale, a being with power somewhere on the spectrum between human and Satan, could be frozen by Crowley’s powers. The fact that Aziraphale is still present and active during all of these scenes, unaffected by the time stop is only indicative of Crowley’s choice to exempt him, just as he does with a hypnotized Mary Hodges and Adam.

Crowley has stopped time on Aziraphale

In a previous post I have addressed the possible symbolic meaning behind the Honolulu Roast sign that suddenly appears behind Crowley in the S2E1 coffee shop scene. This addresses the symbolic meaning of Honolulu with respect to Aziraphale, but fails to address the “roast” part, which I have the opportunity to do now. I begin by establishing two premises:

Crowley loves Aziraphale and after 6,000 years knows him very well.

Crowley is a dick.

Crowley sits down at the table across from Aziraphale and asks him what the problem is. At this point, there is no “Honolulu Roast” sign behind him. The camera flips to Aziraphale as he (badly) tries to deny that there is any problem. When the camera flips back to Crowley, a “today’s special: Honolulu Roast” sign has appeared behind him.

What does Crowley do next?

Crowley roasts Aziraphale.

Crowley proceeds to read Aziraphale to filth, rattling off all his tells and putting him in his place for even daring to think that he could mislead Crowley about his internal emotional state.

While we’ve seen a lot more of his soft side this season, we cannot forget that the demon Crowley, at the end of the day, is a prick. He really did pause time just so that he could go get a chalkboard, write a pun on it, and hang it on the wall behind him like a display card for open mic night. He’s still going to help Aziraphale, of course. But he’s going to make fun of him first.

Let me reiterate: Crowley literally paused time, got up from the table, put up this sign, then sat back down in (as close to) exactly the same position (as possible) to fool Aziraphale into not noticing the pause, because this joke is entirely for Crowley’s own amusement. We have some cinematographic evidence of this besides just the sign itself: the lamp behind him has moved slightly, and the camera angle focusing on Crowley has changed. Literally, the left hand side of the frame gets cut off due to the repositioning. From a production perspective, this scene would have been shot all at the same time, so should not have changed angles. That said, they did a by-hand follow-in of Crowley walking in and sitting down, then switched to a dolly, but… I have faith that they could have matched the shot line-up practically pixel for pixel if they wanted to. All to say: changing the camera position before and after, alongside the other conspicuous changes, seems like it was a deliberate framing choice used to indicate that Crowley tried his best to get back into exactly the same position, but was just a little off.

But Crowley’s prank is troubling from a perspective of honesty and agency. Based on the way the dialogue progresses, it seems pretty clear that Aziraphale doesn’t know that he was frozen. Whether or not Crowley could freeze Aziraphale was beside the point until this scene where we learn that Crowley would, even for a really dumb reason like making a joke at Aziraphale’s expense.

Before moving on, I want to note that the sudden appearance of this sign could be characterized as a continuity error, even though it was the result of a deliberate action by an in-world character. Jettison your traditional understanding of “continuity error” as “production made a mistake.” In this universe, we can have continuity errors by virtue that Aziraphale is experiencing time as if it is continuous, not noticing that he functionally blacked out for a few minutes and that things have changed around him. This is not a show-level continuity error. This is an Aziraphale-level continuity error.

Crowley can reverse time

Credit where credit is due: it was this comment on the Ao3 version of my meta, The Erasure of Human!Metatron, that became an earworm that got me thinking specifically about Crowley's abilities:

So thank you, LoveIsLove &lt;3

Let’s go back to the Mary Hodges scene, or actually a few minutes before. Our ineffable idiots get shot by paintballs.

“Look at the state of this coat. I've kept this in tip-top condition for over 180 years now. I'll never get this stain out.”

“You could miracle it away.”

“Hmm… Yes, but… well, I would always know the stain was there. Underneath, I mean.”

Aziraphale finagles himself a favor without ever actually asking for it. Full points, princess. But let’s examine the actual content of the dialogue. This cannot be a complete 100% bluff; Aziraphale is not going to tell a straight lie to Crowley that they both know is false about the respective nature of their powers. It must be the case that there is some truth to this statement. There is a fundamental difference between what Aziraphale can do about the paintball stain and what Crowley is actually going to do about it. Furthermore, what Crowley does is something different than a miracle.

Crowley then blows on the stain, it disappears, and Aziraphale looks quite pleased. Yes, yes, he cajoled Anthony J Acts of Service Crowley into doing his signature move, but also, he’s genuinely thankful that Crowley did something for him that he couldn’t do for himself, because miracles don’t work like that. Notably, Crowley doesn't snap his fingers or make any other gesture that we normally associate with miracles, and we don’t hear the miracle sound, which is further evidence that this is not a miracle, but something different.

If you haven’t already, please read my meta entitled Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley. It explains in depth and with evidentiary support my theory about how erasure works in the Good Omens universe. The Cliff’s notes version is that erasing something, whether it be a name from the Book of Life or a paintball from a coat, is akin to erasing a pencil mark on paper; it’s technically gone but you’ll always know it was there. Underneath.

What Crowley has done, then, is not erasing the paintball stain.

He’s reversed it.

When he blows on the paintball stain, he is reversing time in a microcosm of the universe, truly making it so that the paintball never hit the jacket. In a world full of rubber erasers, Crowley has the only Control-Z. When things are “erased” by the Book of Life, they are changed, but when Crowley reverses something, they never happened (making Beelzebub’s description of the Book of Life actually a more accurate description of Crowley’s power). It is something unique that Crowley can do that Aziraphale can’t, and we haven’t seen any evidence of any other celestial being pausing or reversing time. Please feel free to reblog with links to relevant meta if I’m wrong about that.

In true Neil Gaiman style, Crowley using this power to do something mundane like get rid of paintball paint was an incredibly benign and subtle way to indicate that Crowley has an immense, untapped power that we have not yet seen him use for any major purpose. 

I repeat: we didn’t see him use it. Because usually, like Aziraphale, we the audience are exempt from the time freeze, and we get to watch what happens. But this time, we were frozen out with Aziraphale.

Clock Theory revisited: a reinterpretation of “continuity error”

A summary of clock theory

Neil Gaiman’s ask and answer on clock theory

Neil Gaiman responded to an ask about the clock jumping forward from 9:25 to 9:40 before and after the kiss with a single sentence: “It’s a continuity error, I’m afraid.”

In the usual manner, Neil is not lying, but he is relying on you making an incorrect interpretation of his seemingly straightforward and innocuous but actually ambiguous and incredibly meaningful statement. As I stated with regards to the Honolulu Roast chalkboard sign, do not interpret “continuity error” as “production made a mistake.” Interpret “continuity error” as “Aziraphale believes that his experience of time is in lockstep with the actual flow of time and doesn’t realize that 11 minutes passed while he was frozen.”

Let’s consider the evidence:

Image at timestamp 41:04 “[Hold that thought!]” the clock reads 9:25

Image at 45:04 “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together, then we can” the clock still reads 9:25

Image at 47:56 the clock now reads 9:40. 

Image at 48:14 the clock reads 9:40

There are two four-minute gaps, from the perspective of the viewer, and we have views of the clock face at both ends of each gap.

Gap 1, from 41:04 to 45:04, the clock hands do not move at all, nor do they in any of the intervening shots.

Gap 2, from 45:04 to 47:56 (or 48:14, as you prefer), the clock hands move 15 minutes.

The Occam’s razor, Doylian explanation for why the clock hands don't move from 41:04 to 45:04 is that the clock is a prop. It does not have any timekeeping mechanism, the hands don’t move unless some human being opens up the glass, reaches in there, and manually adjusts it. They weren’t going to interrupt filming this moving scene to move the clock hands minute by minute, so it seems pretty plausible that the fact that it doesn’t move is just an artifact of production limitations.

The Watsonian explanation, which I do not favor, is that Crowley has frozen time for just the two of them. They are in a microcosm all their own. If true, this would have an abundance of implications, such that they are actually free to speak to each other freely, which they don’t. So I feel like with that alone, we can set this aside, but I’m open to being convinced otherwise.

If we accept the “clock is a prop” explanation for Gap 1, it doesn’t really hold for Gap 2 that they moved it a full fifteen minutes. So much care and attention to detail was given for all other parts of this show; I don’t realistically believe that a production staff member moved the hands a random amount. The music carries us from Crowley’s exit to Metatron’s entrance seamlessly, yet more time seems to have passed in-world than on-screen. There are two possible explanations:

There was more material that was supposed to be filmed to account for 15 minutes that got cut

We are supposed to figure out that there’s some “Greek play” style shenaniganery afoot

I will debunk explanation #1 with simply this: David’s contact lenses would sometimes rotate so that the slit pupils were not vertical. This error was fixed by VFX in post.

You might assume, when watching Good Omens, that Crowley’s serpent-like eyes are created using contact lenses. Or perhaps you’d presume they’re CGI. Actually, they’re a mix of both.

“The CGI versions were usually because the contact lenses had swiveled in David’s eyes … and we had to fix it,” says Mackinnon.

If they could fix Crowley’s eyes in post, there is absolutely no reason to expect that they couldn’t or wouldn’t have fixed the clock hand positions in post, especially if it was someone’s job to reach in there and change the positions to try to maintain set continuity in the first place. Additionally, there is deliberate use of clocks to symbolize various themes across both seasons. A Doylian error like this is not something that would have been overlooked and survived into publication.

So we are left with explanation #2. Time has passed that we, the viewers, don’t observe. What was happening during that time that we missed? More importantly, who knows that this time has passed? Aziraphale doesn’t seem to, and it’s unclear what the Metatron does or doesn’t know.

Some fans have posited that the Metatron is doing the time manipulations, but canonically, the only entity we have observed manipulate time is Crowley. We assume the Metatron is powerful because the angels are all afraid of him, but we’ve never actually seen him do anything, and so have no primary evidence for this. All over, he’s got some big “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain” Wizard of Oz vibes happening; I’m not convinced he could miracle his way out of a wet paper bag, and there’s a chance that in Season 3 we’ll find out that he’s all bluff. Not so with Crowley.

My hypothesis is that Crowley froze Aziraphale and everybody else for a one block radius, including the Metatron, and did something important in the bookshop before it lost its protection. Please see my meta on Sovereignty, Citizenship, and the Bookshop for an evidence-based argument on why the bookshop was the only place in the universe that Crowley could have safely hidden something. Since Aziraphale is no longer the head of an independent embassy, whatever Crowley was keeping safe in there isn’t safe anymore, and needs to be moved. Universe time continued to pass and the clock reflects that, but Aziraphale and the Metatron aren’t aware that they were paused.

Which also gives us a new interpretation for the kiss.

The Kiss, revisited

Crowley didn’t want to send Aziraphale a message.

Crowley needed a plausible cover for the immense effort it was going to take him to freeze time against Aziraphale and the Metatron that he knew was standing outside.

How do I know he knew?

No nightingales.

Juliet. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;

Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:

Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Romeo. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,

No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

No nightingales could be the end of a romance. I argued as much in my inaugural meta just six weeks ago (and what a six weeks it has been, people!) But “no nightingales” could also be a secret signal to two people who have a unique bond through Shakespeare that Crowley has realized he is not safe, and he needs to leave, and he’s trying to tell Aziraphale that without letting their spectator in on the message.

Now he has to stop time to secure whatever item he’d been keeping safe in the bookshop. But keeping Satan at bay required him to lunge upwards, using his whole body to freeze time. He can’t get away with anything like that here in the bookshop, that would give up the ruse.

But what if he lunged at the person everyone knows he’s in love with and violently kisses them on the mouth, his entire body tense with the effort of freezing time in the presence of two ethereal beings? No one would notice the difference, or think anything nefarious of it; a Class A surreptitious time-stop.

One last crackpot theory.

Aziraphale knows what Crowley did. Well, he knows that he froze time, and for the first time realizes that Crowley has locked him out, and that he used the kiss as a cover. The violation of agency, trust, and their romantic bond are all breaking across him in the instant that time restarts, after Crowley has gone away for 11 minutes and returned to almost, but not quite, the same position inside Aziraphale’s arms. It is an intimate act that Aziraphale is fully tuned into, and for the first time, he’s noticing the continuity errors.

His horror-filled expression is one of broken trust. But his bond to Crowley is too strong for even this to break it. He knows that whatever reason Crowley had to pull this trick on him, it must have been a good one. It must have been to protect him.

“I forgive you.”

***

One more completely crackpot theory based on the Gavin Finney interview at The Ineffable Con last weekend.

The camera was supposed to circle them. Finney says that this was to show that they are the center of their universe, and their world is spinning.

Okay, okay. But could it not also have represented the spinning of clock hands? I’m just saying.

Closing obligatory "do not put anything about this in Neil Gaiman's askbox"

Find my entire collection of metas here

[soleilpinto]

Changing Lanes (Pepe Martí) ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

“I thought I’d never be okay, but now I know that I’m okay.” (Niki, La La Lost You) ⋆˙⟡ —

Synopsis: After a crush on driver Paul Aron leaves you heartbroken, you unexpectedly find yourself pursued by Campos Driver, Pepe Martí. As he gently shows you kindness and patience, you start to realize that love isn’t as hopeless as it once seemed.

Genre: Angst, Slowburn + Fluff !!

Pairing: Pepe Martí x Fem!Reader

Warnings: This entire fic in itself, because it was a random idea I had at 12 am after finding out the guy I started gaining feelings for had a girlfriend (PLEASE 2025 be good to me, I can’t keep going through these things even if it is for the plot)

Note: Honestly, I just wanted an outlet to vent out my feelings because I haven’t felt the pain of heartbreak in over a year and this one felt extra bittersweet because I couldn’t even form a connection with the guy. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! Love lots, and don’t forget to like + reblog as always.

Chasing the Apex (Paul’s Version) !!

For as long as you could remember, you had noticed that love wasn’t always the kindest towards you. From one-sided crushes to having your heart crushed entirely by your ex, you honestly don't understand why the universe could be so cruel. That was until you met Paul.

As one of the social media managers for the Formula 2 grid, you handled posts and updates throughout race weekends. Being around the same age as most of the younger drivers, you got along with them pretty easily.

But none of them caught your attention quite like Paul Aron.

You’ve always noticed Paul. It’s hard not to, really. He’s the kind of person who effortlessly draws attention with his charm, his smile, and the way he carries himself—like he’s not just a talented racer, but someone who genuinely enjoys life, which made him one of the highlights of your first season on the grid as well.

His presence lights up a room, and though you’ve crossed paths a few times during FIA events or networking opportunities, you’ve never had the chance to talk to him. But every time you see him, something about him draws you in, leaving you with a flutter in your chest that you can’t quite explain.

It happens again one evening, at a Porsche networking event. You’re standing near the refreshment table, trying to stay calm as you check your phone, making sure everything’s ok for your blog post the next day. Then you hear a voice, smooth and warm, cutting through the chatter.

“Is the Wi-Fi in this place always this spotty, or is it just tonight?” Paul says, his tone light and friendly.

You glance up, slightly startled. His smile catches you off guard, as if he’s genuinely amused by the moment, not just making small talk. He’s standing a few feet away, holding a drink in one hand, his other hand casually resting on the edge of the table.

You laugh softly, trying to steady your nerves. “Honestly, it might just be this place. I’ve had worse reception at airports.”

He chuckles, a sound that’s easygoing and somehow puts you at ease. “I swear, Wi-Fi is the real race here. Always competing with my connection.”

You can’t help but smile at the way he talks, as though you’re both sharing a private joke. The conversation stays light, but it’s easy. There’s no awkwardness. He listens as much as he speaks, and you feel like, for a few moments, the world narrows down to just the two of you. But then, just as quickly as the moment began, it’s over. 

Paul nods, excusing himself to chat with someone else, leaving you standing there, feeling a strange mix of giddy and disappointed.

Over the next few days, you find yourself replaying that brief encounter in your mind, analyzing every word, every glance. Each time you pass him at the track or at another event, you catch yourself lingering, watching him from the corner of your eye, fascinated by the way he interacts with everyone around him.

He’s effortlessly kind, almost too charismatic for his own good, and you can’t help but be drawn to him even more, though you keep your feelings to yourself.

It’s all so easy for him, and you can’t shake the thought that he’s the kind of person who could make anyone feel special. Even if he doesn’t notice you, you find yourself quietly admiring him from afar.

One evening, you’re idly scrolling through social media, distracted by the usual updates and posts, when something catches your eye. It’s a tag in one of Paul’s photos, leading you to a girl’s account. You hesitate for a moment, but curiosity wins out, and you click on it.

You had seen this girl around and recognized her as the new Hi-Tech GP social media intern.

At first, it’s easy to tell yourself that you’re just browsing. After all, it’s just another account, right? But soon, you find yourself diving deeper—scrolling through the posts, the captions, the shared moments between them.

Each photo feels like a glimpse into a world you’ll never be a part of: the vacations, the inside jokes, the smiles exchanged in private moments.

At first, you brushed it off as nothing more than a friendship, but the more you saw, the more it seemed like there was something more. It’s all perfectly curated, as if everything about their relationship is designed to be seen, to be admired.

Before you even knew it, you find it. A highlight that’s pinned at the top of her profile—a video of Paul looking at her with such tenderness in his eyes.

The way he smiles, so genuine, so in love, sends a sharp pang through your chest. You swallow hard, the weight of the moment settling in. He’s taken. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

As you sat there, staring at more photos of them smiling, traveling, and sharing intimate moments (there were even photos of her with his family and you almost felt like throwing up), the weight of it settled on you.

It hit you all at once—the reality that Paul wasn’t just out of reach, but he was with someone else. And in that moment, the pain was sharper than you expected. You’d been holding onto a hope that was never yours to have, and suddenly you’re reminded of why you never pursued a connection, until now.

Another rush of emotions hit you like a bus—jealousy, sadness, and a crushing sense of inadequacy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to the girl in the photos, wondering if you were ever enough or if you’d ever measure up to what Paul seemed to have with someone else.

It seemed impossible, especially when you were just a regular girl, whilst Paul’s girlfriend looked like she modeled during the off-season.

It didn’t make sense, you knew that. After all, you had no claim over him. But the feelings didn’t care about logic. The more you thought about it, the more it hurt—you couldn’t shake the sting of seeing them together, knowing you weren’t ever meant to be part of his story.

It felt like a cruel reminder that no matter how much you’d hoped, love was always just out of reach. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look away.

It is now the present and you feel better, but you haven’t fully healed from the trauma just yet. You were so determined to distract yourself from the pain that you had thrown yourself into work and your blog that you had created as an escape from the world.

The rhythm of curating content helps clear your mind, and you even rediscover hobbies you had set aside for too long in the midst of it all. You hadn't given up on love entirely but forced yourself to keep your mind occupied so that the pain would be the least of your worries.

Whenever the emotions and stress of work start to overwhelm you, you lean on your friends, finding comfort in their support and understanding. It’s not a perfect fix, but it helps you push forward, one step at a time.

Ever since you decided to swamp yourself with work, you started to find new friendships with the other rookies and drivers on the grid.

Pepe Martí is someone you’ve seen around before, but you’ve never really interacted with much. You were always mostly with Paul or Ollie, sometimes Isack, Pepe’s teammate, but you barely crossed each other’s paths unless it came to media or updates regarding the F2 socials.

Unexpectedly, as you start to bump into him more often, you start noticing his presence just a bit more. At first, it’s casual—a quick hello in passing, a smile shared before he goes on his way. But soon, it feels like more.

You start to notice how often your paths cross, as if the universe is aligning in subtle ways, but you digress, since you were way too focused on yourself and work to even think about anything else.

Soon enough, you find yourself hanging around the Campos Racing garage during the next few races. What catches you off guard is how warm and attentive Pepe is whenever you’re there to have a casual chat or just to relax before they get on track.

In every conversation, whether it’s about racing or something completely unrelated, he listens with genuine interest.

There’s no rush, no forced small talk. It’s as if he cares about what you’re saying, and that’s something you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

You first notice it one afternoon when you’re at the F2 paddock, buried in your phone and laptop as you work on a new blog post. A familiar voice interrupts your focus.

“Hey,” Pepe says, leaning against the fence next to you with a casual smile. His presence is relaxed but unwavering, as if he’s just always there. “I saw your latest post about the Monaco Grand Prix. That was pretty solid. You have a real way with words.”

You glance up, a little surprised by the compliment, but you return his smile. “Thanks,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been diving into the details a bit more lately.”

You weren't used to compliments on things like your blog, but when someone notices how much work you put in, you can’t help but feel bashful.

Pepe nods, clearly interested. “I can tell. I didn’t realize you knew so much about the strategy behind it all.”

“F1 is a lot more than just the race itself,” you explain, feeling a spark of excitement. “It’s the stories, the tactics, the behind-the-scenes stuff that gets missed.”

He seems genuinely engaged. “You should do a piece on how the strategy changes with the weather conditions next time. It’d be interesting to see your take on it.”

You blink in surprise, almost speechless. “That’s a great idea, actually,” you admit, a little flustered.

Pepe grins. “Glad you think so. I’ll be reading it when it’s up.” He straightens up, giving you a wink before walking away, leaving you both flattered and puzzled by his sudden interest.

‘Lock in, Y/n. God, now is not the time to be flustered because of a guy,’ you try to shake off the feeling but can’t help but feel a newfound sense of appreciation towards Pepe.

Over the next few days, you notice Pepe around more. It starts with small things—asking for your opinion on the latest race results, asking if you’re going to any of the after-race events, or simply offering a casual “Hey, how’s the blog going?” when he sees you walking between the pits.

Each time, his words are light but thoughtful, as though he’s genuinely interested, not just making small talk. There’s no rush to any of his actions, no pressure—just a quiet confidence that feels both comforting and intriguing.

One evening, after a long day of racing, you find him sitting in the garage and staring out at the grandstand as he is looking up at the sunset. You walk over, hesitant but curious.

“Mind if I join?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up, his smile warm and easy. “Not at all. The view’s better with company, anyway.”

You sit down next to him, and for a few moments, there’s just the hum of the distant engines and the warmth of the setting sun. Then, quietly, Pepe turns toward you.

“I like how you see things,” he says, his voice sincere. “The way you talk about the races, the details... it’s like you bring a whole new perspective to it. Not many people see it the way you do.” You look at him, surprised by his words.

“I’m just... trying to share the side of it people don’t always notice. You know, the stuff that’s hidden.” Pepe nods slowly, as if processing your words. “Yeah, I get that. You have a way of making the unseen things feel important.���

For a moment, you both sit in comfortable silence, the connection between you growing deeper with each passing second. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t rush. He’s just there, a steady presence, showing up when you least expect it.

And slowly, it starts to feel like maybe this quiet, consistent attention is something more than just friendly banter.

It wasn’t noticeable at first—mostly small gestures that you brush off as coincidence.

One morning, after a particularly tough day at the track, you’re buried in your laptop, trying to finish up a blog post, when you hear footsteps behind you.

You look up to find Pepe standing there, holding out a Red Bull can in your direction with a small smile.

“Figured you could use this,” he says, his voice casual but thoughtful. “You looked like you could use a pick-me-up.”

You blink, surprised by the gesture. Energy drinks weren’t exactly your choice of drink when it came to caffeine, but you were grateful for the drink. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

Pepe shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “No problem. I’ve been there—long days, late nights. Thought a Red Bull might help since I don’t really like coffee.”

You accept the drink and open it, feeling a warmth spread through you—not from the Red Bull, but from the kindness in his eyes.

It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. The more you think about it, the more you realize that, over the past few weeks, he’s been going out of his way to make sure you feel seen—whether it’s checking in on how your day’s going or making sure you’re okay during hectic moments.

As the days pass, he starts sharing stories about his own struggles in racing—how he’s dealt with pressure, the challenges of balancing his personal life with his career (not to mention the shitty luck he’d been having lately).

His openness catches you off guard, and you find yourself listening intently, feeling a connection you didn’t expect.

“You’d be surprised how much racing can mess with your head sometimes,” he says one afternoon, leaning against a wall as he talks. “But you have to push through, even when everything feels off.”

His words linger with you long after the conversation ends. And for the first time, you see him in a new light—not just as someone who’s kind and attentive, but as someone who truly understands the ups and downs of life, someone who knows how to make you feel special without even trying.

Despite Pepe’s kindness lately, you hesitate. Every time he goes out of his way to make you feel special, you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest, but something pulls you back.

Your mind still lingers on Paul—the way he smiled at her, the way his presence felt so magnetic, even from a distance. It’s like an anchor you can’t shake, a feeling you’re not ready to let go of.

One night, unable to sleep, you find yourself texting your closest friend, Marina. You vent about everything—how much you’re drawn to Pepe’s attention, but how you feel stuck on Paul, unable to move past the crush that was never meant to be.

Your Marina’s reply comes almost immediately. "You’re holding onto something that wasn’t yours to begin with. Paul is in a relationship, and no matter how much you wish it were different, you deserve more than just hoping for a chance."

The words hit harder than you expect, and you feel the truth in them—like a weight lifting off your chest. You pause, staring at the screen, then take a deep breath. "I know," you text back. "I’m just scared to let go."

Your friend’s response is simple but reassuring: "Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means making space for something that’s actually real."

You close your eyes for a moment, letting those words sink in. And for the first time, you feel the weight of holding onto Paul begin to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of clarity. Maybe you’re ready to move forward.

It’s late one evening, and you find yourself talking to Pepe again, this time in the quiet of a nearly empty garage after a long day of media and racing.

The conversation starts off light, but as the hours pass, something shifts. You’re sitting across from him, both of you exhausted but not ready to call it a night.

Without warning, Pepe looks at you, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more earnest.

“You know,” he says, his voice softer than usual, “I really admire how you handle everything. I’ve seen the way you juggle work, racing, everything. You’ve got this strength about you that’s... rare. It’s not just about how you push through tough times, but the way you stay true to yourself, even when everything feels impossible.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “I... don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replies, his gaze steady. “I just think you’re incredible. And I don’t think enough people tell you that.”

His words catch you off guard, and something inside you stirs—a warmth, a flutter of something new. The walls you’ve carefully built around yourself begin to crack, just a little.

It’s not just the compliment itself, but the way he says it—without any expectation, no hidden motive. Just pure, honest admiration.

You look at him, really look at him, and for the first time, you begin to see him in a new light. He’s not just kind and attentive—he’s genuine, and that genuineness makes everything about him feel different, something you didn’t expect.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting his words settle in. The weight of the day, the pressure of expectations, and the uncertainty that’s been following you around seem to melt away, if only for a brief second.

You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that—to be seen, really seen, for who you are and not just what you do.

Pepe shifts a little, his gaze still warm and steady. “I know and understand that it’s not easy. I’ve seen how much effort you put into everything you do. But don’t forget that you deserve to have someone see you for the amazing person you are, not just for what you’re capable of.”

You swallow, blinking away the unexpected emotion. The vulnerability in his words makes your heart ache, but in a way that feels freeing, like a weight lifting off your shoulders. “I... don’t know if I believe that,” you admit, your voice softer than you expected.

“You will,” he says with a smile that makes your chest flutter. “Because you’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet but powerful way he expresses his admiration—it breaks through the last of the walls you’ve built up around yourself.

In that moment, you realize how much he’s not just seen you, but understood you. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to start seeing him, too, not as someone in the background of your thoughts, but as someone who could be a part of your future.

Suddenly, you realize that this connection with him could be more than just a passing feeling.

As the days pass, you find yourself spending more time with Pepe—whether it's during work events, casual hangouts, or just those quiet moments where the world seems to slow down. And with each interaction, you begin to notice the little things that set him apart.

It’s in the way he listens when you talk, really listens, as if he values every word you say. He doesn't just hear you; he understands you.

When you ramble on about your latest fashion idea or a new post you're planning for your blog, he’s there, nodding along, offering insights or just genuinely interested in what excites you. He makes you feel like your passions are important, even if they seem trivial to others.

And then there’s the way he encourages you, not just with words, but in his actions. When you doubt yourself, he’s there to remind you of your strength, to tell you that you’re capable of so much more than you realize.

It’s the little things—those quiet words of encouragement when you need them most—that make you feel seen in ways you hadn’t expected.

But perhaps most of all, it’s the care he shows for your happiness. It’s the way he asks about your day, not because he feels he has to, but because he genuinely wants to know.

How your day went, if you’re feeling okay, if there's anything he can do to make things better. It’s a kindness you didn’t know you needed, and slowly, you begin to realize that these small acts—these simple gestures—are what make him someone truly special.

When things aren’t going as smoothly for him, you’re there to support him in the same way. You’re with him through the highs and the lows, whether it’s during a frustrating race where he’s forced to retire early or a weekend where things just don’t seem to click.

After a no-finish result in one of the races, you tell him: “You gave it your all. It wasn’t your day, but I know you'll bounce back.” It’s the small, thoughtful words that show him you care, even when he’s at his lowest.

Then comes the Azerbaijan Grand Prix. You’re watching the race unfold, and your stomach drops when you see his car lose control and crash.

You hold your breath, your heart pounding, as the screen cuts away. Your thoughts race until you hear an update confirming that he’s okay, but you can’t help but worry. You know he’s going to be shaken up, even if it doesn’t show.

You’re one of the first people to get to the medical bay after the crash. When you walk in, Pepe is sitting on the bed, his helmet off, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there's a silence between you. He’s still processing everything that just happened.

“Hey," you say softly, approaching him. "You good?"

He gives a small, tired smile. "Yeah, just... it's frustrating, you know? I thought I had it under control, but... things happen. Not to mention the lock up we had the other day,"

You pull up a chair beside him, sitting down without a second thought. "I saw it. But you’re here, and that’s all that matters." You place a hand on his arm, offering a quiet reassurance. "I’m just glad you're okay."

He meets your eyes, his expression softening. "Thanks for being here," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot, more than you know."

For a moment, you just sit there together, the chaos of the race weekend fading into the background. And as you talk about the race, his crash, and what’s next, you realize just how much you care—not just for his career, but for him.

The connection you share feels deeper than ever, something solid and real.

After everything—the highs and lows, the moments of doubt and clarity—you find yourself standing at a crossroads.

You think about all the times you’ve hesitated, the moments you almost pulled away, unsure if you were ready to move on, still clinging to a love that never was. But as you look at Pepe, sitting beside you, as present and steady as he’s always been, something clicks.

It’s not just the way he’s supported you, or how he’s always seen the best in you, even when you couldn’t see it in yourself.

It’s how he makes you feel, not just valued, but cherished for exactly who you are—the messy, complex, imperfect you. In his eyes, you’re enough. And for the first time in a long time, you believe it, too.

Pepe’s kindness, patience, and unwavering support have shown you a kind of love that’s not based on fleeting moments or unattainable ideals. It’s real. It’s grounded. And more than anything, it’s filled with hope—a hope you hadn’t realized you’d lost until now.

So, when he looks at you, his gaze filled with something deeper than friendship, you finally allow yourself to take the leap. You smile, a little unsure, but ready. “Pepe, I think I’m ready for this.”

He grins, his eyes lighting up with a warmth that makes your heart flutter. “Me too,” he says, his voice low and genuine. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready.”

In that moment, you know, with certainty, that you’ve chosen the right path. You’re not just moving on—you’re moving forward, with someone who will walk beside you every step of the way, supporting you, loving you, and reminding you that you’re worthy of all the happiness you’ve been seeking.

Epilogue:

Months have passed since you and Pepe decided to give love a real shot, and life has never felt brighter. His unwavering presence and quiet strength have become your anchor, and the happiness you’ve found together is undeniable.

The laughter you share, the quiet moments together, and the way he looks at you with so much care and love, it all fills you with a peace you didn’t know was possible.

It’s the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix weekend, and Pepe is in peak form. You’re on the edge of your seat, clutching your puppy’s leash as the race unfolds.

When Pepe crosses the finish line in first place, the roar of the crowd barely registers as you’re too busy cheering alongside his parents with all your might.

Later, you meet him in parc fermé, tears of joy in your eyes as he steps out of the car. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into a tight hug, his helmet still tucked under his arm.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispers, his words meant just for you despite the bustling celebrations around you.

That evening, you’re by his side as the team celebrates his victory. The champagne flows, and the glow of his achievement lights up the room. But it’s the quiet moments you share—when he leans over to steal a kiss and murmurs how much you mean to him—that remind you how lucky you are.

The next day, as you’re strolling through the paddock together, you catch sight of Paul in the distance.

He’s talking to someone, but his eyes briefly flicker to you and Pepe. His expression shifts for just a second—an unrecognizable look you can’t quite place—but you don’t dwell on it.

Pepe squeezes your hand, and your attention snaps back to him. He’s smiling at you in that way that makes your heart race, the way that reminds you of why you chose him. The life you’ve built together is filled with love, laughter, and hope—and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

© soleilpinto 24’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[irisintheafterglow]

Quarter (opla!zoro x you)

summary: there's not much stability in his line of work, but at least he has you.

wc: 0.7k

cw/tags: descriptions of blood and injury, explicit language, mutual pining and unspoken feely feels

note: can be read as a standalone or with parley and no prey, no pay that exists in the same universe! hope you like it, something short and sweet for my favorite himbo man :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

“What, sneaking through the window or invading my house at ungodly hours?” 

“Both,” he grunts, “though, I do regret not bringing those flowers you like.” He plants his feet unsteadily on your rug and you guide him to the sitting area of your room, helping him lie back on the loveseat. “What were they called? Bastards?”

“Asters,” you correct with a small chuckle, calmly retrieving the med kit from a nearby cabinet and grabbing a wet towel from the bathroom. His grimace softens as you sit in front of him, gently pulling back the blood-stiffened fabric on his torso. He flinches when the towel starts to wipe away the caked on blood and debris and you apologize absentmindedly. “Who’d you piss off this time?” 

“Marines,” he says through gritted teeth while you soak the towel with alcohol and dab it across his wounds. You give him a pointed look and he weakly shows his palms in surrender. 

“I thought we had an agreement not to get involved with Marines.” 

“Some asshole got mad that I was taking his targets and put a hefty bounty over my head,” he says unconvincingly. “Ran into a few obstacles on the way here.”

“Were you followed?” He scoffs and immediately winces from the movement, cursing under his breath. 

“Of course not. There’s no way in hell I’d ever let anyone find you here,” he promises and it makes your heart flutter. You were slowly rubbing away at the chalked line between you and Zoro, one that separated you from being more than friends. Though you didn’t know much about having close friends, you knew they didn’t look at you the way he looked at you now. It was too fond, too tender, too devoted. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. 

“Mmm, my knight in shining armor,” you tease and he glares at you half-heartedly. “Or, maybe ‘outlaw in tattered street rags.’ How does that one sound?”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be.” Your face suddenly feels like it’s been set on fire and you’re grateful that his eyes close so he can’t see what he’s doing to you. “How long do you think it’ll be ‘til I’m hunting again?”

“The unselfish part of me says a day,” you murmur, wrapping the gauze around his body that you knew like your own. His chest is completely uncovered now and you want to laugh at the irony of the shirtless, god-bodied swordsman lounging in your bedroom.

“What’s the selfish part say?”

“However long you’d let me keep you,” you murmur and he peels open a single eye to look at you, really look at you. “I miss you, you know, when you’re gone. It’s embarrassing.” He’s quiet, a thoughtful look crossing his face. It wasn’t often you left him speechless; he couldn’t tell if the airy feeling in his head was from the nausea or from you. 

“I miss you too when I’m gone,” he answers just as quietly after a long moment of silence. With both his eyes open, his attention stays trained on your face as you reach out and brush a strand of green hair from his forehead. Your fingers on his skin feel electric every time, like he was being struck by white-hot lightning. “You shouldn’t have to stay up waiting for me.”

“But I will,” you reply without hesitation and pain blinks over his features. “Why the face?”

“I can’t do this to you,” he confesses and your heart plummets. Of all the words he could have said, those were the ones you didn’t want to hear. 

“Do what?”

“This,” he insists, gesturing vaguely between you two and acknowledging the unresolved tension that pulled you closer to him like a magnet. “You deserve more stability than a come-and-go bounty hunter.”

“What makes you think I would want anyone else?” The earnestness in your tone stumps him into silence again and you can’t help laughing a little bit. “You know, for being the most feared man in the seas, you aren’t that self-aware.”

“I think part of my mind shuts off when I’m with you,” he says in that raspy voice that finally makes you crack, closing the distance between you two and sliding next down to him on the couch. His arms receive you as naturally as blinking and you can feel your own inhales and exhales relax as you both sink into each other’s safety. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathes. 

“I think I can make a pretty good guess,” you yawn and settle further into his body. “You’ll stay for a few days, then?”

“I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is another part of our possessive Harry rec list. If you missed them, you can find part one here and part two here. There are a ton of amazing fics on this list that we hope you'll check out. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Back Where I Belong | Explicit | 7,217 words

Harry’s trying to have a conversation with Nick, who he hasn’t seen in nearly three months, but the way Nick’s eyes keep darting over his shoulder every few seconds is quite distracting. It’s ironic, because at least a quarter of the reason that he’s even talking to Nick in the first place is because he needs a distraction. He’s all too aware of exactly what’s going on behind his back. Nick is the one who finally brings it up. “Do you think he’s doing it to spite you?” “He’s definitely doing it to spite me,” Harry answers tightly, resisting the urge to crane his neck around so he can see. He clutches his drink a little tighter, trying to keep his tenuous control over his own movements.

2) Come A Little Closer | Explicit | 9,867 words

Louis puts on lingerie. It's not, like, a thing.

3) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11,438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

4) Please, I'm Begging | Explicit | 13,746 words

Louis is an omega who just wants to be with Harry

5) Rendezvous | Explicit | 15,357 words

"Harry's got a date tonight." Zayn greets him. Louis misses the good old times, when people used to say hello. "Why's he got a date, Louis?" Louis has no time for Zayn's nonsense, he's late to crash Harry's date. He only came here for one thing. "I need the fur coat." he announces. "No questions asked."

6) I’m Kind Of Into It | Explicit | 19,483 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

A pair of eyes follow him, narrowed and if Louis has judged right; assessing. Trying to see if Louis has a favourite. Waiting to see if he gives it up to one of the baying crowd. He doesn't. He straightens up and moves smoothly back towards the intriguing man in the front-row seat. He hasn't moved, bar to clutch his fingers slightly around the edges of the circle-shaped seat; his thighs pushing open a little further as he tucks his ass in; showcasing his dick somewhat. The dress pants do barely anything to cover the jut of that length and Louis makes it his personal mission to make him hard. It's insulting really that he's not already there. He's been dancing for three minutes and if that isn't long enough to incite some interest then what is?

7) Play By The Rules | Explicit | 21,835 words

Fed up with the excess energy that’s wreaking havoc on his personal and professional life, Louis asks his boyfriend to dom him in the hopes that it’ll help him relax. Unfortunately, Harry is a bit of a disaster when it comes to being a dom. So, Louis decides to get creative to try and encourage the dominant side out of him.

8) Worth The Wait | Explicit | 29,262 words

In all the words Louis would use to describe a baby shower, the last one he’d ever thought to use was depressing.

9) Can’t Fool Me | Explicit | 30,162 words

AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.

10) Blue Songs Are Like Tattoos | Explicit | 30,739 words

“Good morning, University of California, you’re listening to KALX 90.7 FM Berkeley, this is DJ Harry Styles. If the owner of the tapes I’ve been finding around the studio doesn’t come forward and introduce himself, I’m going to continue tossing them straight in the trash!”

11) Like It’s A Game | Explicit | 32,223 words

There is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

12) All This Devotion | Explicit | 38,047 words

Louis is Harry’s work wife. The already blurry lines of their friendship are smudged further when they get caught up in a web of lies.

13) Kiss Me On The Mouth And Set Me Free (But Please Don’t Bite) | Mature | 42,036 words

Harry is the CEO of Flora Corp, Louis is his new secretary.

14) Strangers In Love | Explicit | 42,207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

15) Let Your Damage, Damage Me | Explicit | 57,077 words

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared. Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand. “Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

16) Not Afraid Of Living On A Fault Line | Explicit | 55,218 words

His eyes widened when he realized he had just somehow managed to ask Harry to hang out. Judging by Harry’s own expression, he wasn't the only one who was shocked. Louis expected him to laugh off the ridiculous request but the beta looked up at him, almost hopefully. “Are you being serious?” “Um,” was all Louis could say, feeling every bit as speechless as Harry had been earlier. “Are you?” Harry shrugged. “I’ve been told I need to get out more.”

17) These Still Waters Run Deep | Explicit | 64,602 words

Having accepted his engagement to Viscount Andrew, Louis is aware that it isn’t a love match and has no wish to be swept off his feet… until he meets the viscount’s brother, Harry, who makes him second-guess everything.

18) King Of My Heart | Explicit | 83,712 words

Harry shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Louis’. “I think since I was young, I craved that feeling, though. I didn’t always hate being a prince, but over time, certain aspects of it just bothered me so much. I remember being four years old and realizing that every person in the world knew my name, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted that. I told my mum as much and she tried telling me that being a prince is not a punishment. That it was a privilege that I should be happy about it, but no one asked me if I was. But looking up at the sky, I remember that all of this will one day mean nothing, and neither will I. All the pressure will then disappear and I could just be.” Louis stayed quiet, allowing Harry the space to open up because he knew Harry wasn’t looking for advice, but just someone to confide in. What he wished he could tell him was that in the short amount of time that he’d known the prince, in Louis’ eyes, he couldn’t be insignificant if he tried. He was brighter than every star up there in the sky. He was all Louis could look at and think about.

19) Echoes & Omens | Mature | 100,707 words

Echoes of the dead come in many forms. Their imprints forever tied to the ones who'd killed them. Louis Tomlinson is able to track the dead using their echoes, they call to him. He's used that gift to aid Scotland Yard in their investigations, with the hopes of studying Criminology at Cambridge University. He's lived a life of privilege and good fortune as a Marquess, son of the late Duke Tomlinson, with his life mapped out since day one. Until two terrible truths are revealed. One, he's adopted. Two, his biological parents are London's most notorious serial killers. Against his family's wishes, Louis travels to Chicago to uncover the truth of their incarceration. Much to his dismay, his biological mother's Lawyer, Harry Styles, wants to take his case. Together, they work to uncover what really happened all those years ago, but perhaps more is revealed than they could've ever anticipated. Trapped in a whirlwind of portents and omens, Louis and Harry find themselves pitted against an enemy they'd not foreseen.

20) You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime | Explicit | 113,444 words

Giving up and letting them think they're right were never valid options in Louis Tomlinson's mind. In a society full of prejudices, finding a family and being accepted, also seemed like an unrealistic utopia. Louis sets out to do what no other of his kind ever has before and in doing so, he finds love, friendship and more about himself than he thought he would.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[oosleepyfaeoo]

How could you be so blind? - Part II

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Blind!Reader

Summary: Aemond sees you as the most beautiful woman in the world but you can't see that. (sorry I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: angst, reader is a female, slow burn, eventual smut

Words: 2k

A/n: English is not my first language. Also, I'm freaking happy like the first part!! Thank you so much for the reblogs and kind comments.

Part one / Part three

“The First Men.” Aemond's voice sounds through the large kitchen. “What is this?” He asks as he pulls his shirt on. 

Alys turns to him with a cup of coffee in her hand. “Oh... I bought you that yesterday. I was out shopping and saw that book.” She says while resting her head on his shoulder, taking a sip of her hot coffee. “Thought that you might like it.” 

Aemond frowns, pondering how she knew that he like historical books. He never shared his interest with her since they weren’t exactly a thing, just fuck buddies. 

“Thanks.” He hums as he goes put away the book to read later. 

Alys wraps her long arms around his waist, resting her head on his back. “I was thinking. Maybe I could go with you to your company party this weekend.” She says with excitement. “You know that your mom will freak out if you go without a date.” 

Aemond pushes her away, scowling down at her. “I already have someone in mind. Sorry.” He walks towards his bedroom, wanting to get ready for his busy day. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to go get ready. I’m gonna have lunch with Helaena.”  

Alys huffs and grabs her purse. “Whatever.” She says as she slams the front door, making Aemond roll his eye.  

Grabbing his phone, he writes a sweet good morning text to you and then hops to his shower. 

//// \\\\ 

“Is everything okay?” Helaena asks, frowning softly.  

Since Aemond arrived at the restaurant, he couldn’t stop checking his phone. Hoping to see a text from you.  

He puts his phone back in his pocket and nods. “Yes...” He takes a bit of his meal and sighs. “It’s just... Y/n hasn’t said a thing since yesterday and you know that we talk every day.”  

Helaena hums. “Yeah. You two are inseparable.”  

Aemond blushes a little at her words but was quick to hide it from Helaena. “Have you talked to her?”  

She shakes her. “No. The last time I was with her was yesterday. She needed my help to choose a book for you-Oh! By the way, did you like it?” She says excitedly, jumping a little on her sit. 

“Book?” Aemond tilts his head to the side, confused by her words but quickly disappears as he started connecting the dots. Thinking about the book that Alys said she “bought” for him. That she-devil! She lied to me! 

“Yeah! She wanted to give you a gift after you spoiled her so much.” Helaena giggles as she takes a sip of her water. “Actually, she said she was gonna pass by your penthouse this morning to give it to you before her classes.”   

Swearing under his breath, Aemond stood up quickly. Throwing enough money to pay for both their food. “I’m sorry Helaena! I need to go.” He says as he walks out of the restaurant, leaving behind a confused Helaena. 

//// \\\\ 

“Are you sure that she hasn’t been here?” Aemond asks one of your classmates.  

After leaving Helaena at the restaurant, he got in his car and drove as quickly as he could to your university. How could he be so stupid?! During the year he knows you, he never felt so happy in his life. You never judged or used him for his wealth or fame. You simply like him for who he is. Something that it's hard for him to find in someone. 

The feelings he had for you were confusing. He never felt this way towards someone, not even towards Alys and he knows her for years. Aemond never was good at talking about his feelings, especially to the person that he might think he was in love with.  

So he buried and tried to use Alys as a distraction which didn’t work since whenever he was in bed with her, he always imagine you lying underneath him, a whimpering and moaning mess, instead of Alys. One time, he almost moaned your name instead of hers.  

Helaena and Aegon always joked about him and you make a cute couple, well Aegon’s jokes weren’t very pleasant but that was something Aemond was used to.  

Aemond always rolled his eye whenever they start talking about you and him, knowing fully well that someone as beautiful and cheerful as you would never end up with a person like him. 

“Huh...yes. She didn’t come to the classes today.” Your classmate says, afraid to anger him even more. “Look, maybe go to her apartment. She might be there.” 

Aemond sighs and nods thanks, walking towards his car. 

//// \\\\ 

A loud yawn escaped from your lips as you rub the sleep away from your eyes. “Alexa, what time it is?”  

“It’s currently 16 am.”  

You hum, sitting up on your bed and grabbing your walking stick and your phone. “Didn’t mean to sleep that long.” You sigh as you walk towards your small kitchen, grabbing a glass of water.  

The morning events are still live in your head. Tears still prickle the corners of your eyes but don’t fall down. You can’t be mad at Aemond. He didn’t do anything wrong since you both aren’t together but still hurts. 

Grabbing your phone, you unmute it and order Alexa to read the messages that you might have. Alexa starts reading the messages, some from your mom asking you when you come home to visit them. Then there was a message from your professor and some classmates. 

Just as you thought it was the last one, Alexa reads a message that made your heart drop.  

“Message from Aem <3 – Good morning, Darling. Hope you had wonderful dreams. See you soon.” 

Your bottom lip trembles as tears tried to break free from your eyes. You took a deep breath and close your eyes, thinking you will not cry again.  

Taking a sit on your comfy sofa, you grab your phone and start looking for a dog trainer. You have been blind since you were little and you were trained to use a cane to see but you always wanted to have a guide dog.  

Your parents couldn’t afford it at the time so you stayed with your walking stick. But now you can get a guide dog, you have been saving money for years and finally have enough money for it.  

Alexa read all the advertisements from several trainers and breeders but a certain one got your attention.  

A breeder of wolfdogs. They breed and train them for a fair price, still very expensive but you had enough for it. You start making a search for this breed, studying carefully so you can be prepared.  

You hum happily when Alexa says that they are extremely large and very protective of their owners, making them a perfect loyal dog. You will feel safer now walking around in the streets.  

Dialing the number from the breeder, you mark an appointment for this weekend.  

Your smile dies a little when you heard a knock at your door. Standing up, walking slowly towards it. “Who is it?”�� 

The voice that responds to you made your heart beat rapidly. “It’s me... Aemond.”  

There’s a long silence. You stood frozen by the door, afraid to open it.  

“C-Can I come in?” His voice was small and vulnerable.  

You quickly open it and put a fake smile on your lips, trying to act as normal as you can. “Of course! Sorry, I just woke up from a nap so I'm still half asleep.” You say with a chuckle, letting him enter and closing the door. 

You heard him take a sit on the sofa as you go make some tea for both of you.  

“You didn’t go to your classes today.” He says as you give him his cup. 

Sitting beside him, you take a sip of your tea and nod. “Y-Yeah... I was feeling a lil sick.”  

You both stood there in awkward silence. Not knowing what to say. You couldn’t see the guilt on Aemond’s face but you could feel it through his body language. The way he couldn’t stop shaking his leg or how his fingers were tapping loudly on his cup. 

“Y/n... Sorry about-” 

“Did you get the book? I hope you like it!” You cut him off. You know that you should let him explain but right now, you can’t hear the truth. That he’s with a supermodel. 

“Huh... Oh, yes. Thank you for the book. It was very kind of you, Darling.” That nickname always makes you a blushing mess but now you try to ignore it which, unfortunately, Aemond notices. 

“Look, Y/n.” He starts. His hands were sweaty from the anxiety that he was feeling right now. “About this morning-” 

Again, you cut him off. “Oh yes! I met your girlfriend.” You force a smile, trying to pretend that you are happy for him. “She seems really... charming. She’s very lucky to have you.”   

Aemond sighs and rubs his hand on his face. Not knowing what to say to you. Of course, Alys isn’t his girlfriend but at the same time, he doesn’t want you to know that he has a fuck buddy. Afraid of what would you think of him if you knew the truth. 

Grabbing your hand softly, noticing how you jump a little at the contact. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”He starts, rubbing softly his thumb on your smooth skin. “This weekend my family company will have a party. I want you to be my date.” He states confidently. 

You know about the party since Helaena told you. And about the dress. Tilting your head to the side, confused by his invite.  

“What about your girlfriend?” You asked. 

He cups your jaw softly in his hand, his thumb dangerously near your lower lip. “Y/n she’s n-” 

“I’m busy this weekend!” You blur out. “I have an appointment with a trainer.”  

Aemond frowns. “A trainer?”  

You nod, turning your head away from his warm touch. “Yes! I finally saved enough money to get a guide dog.”  

“Darling... You know that I could have helped you with that.” He sighs softly. 

You huff and cross your arms in front of your chest. “Aemond I know very well that your help would be a dog fully trained at my door the next day.” You hear him chuckle which made you smile a little. “You know very well that I like to pay for my own things.” 

“Stubborn as ever.” He says with a warm smile. 

You two sat there in silence. Still feeling a strange mood between you two. Grabbing the 2 cups of tea, you stood up and walk to your kitchen, putting the cups in the sink.  

“Well... I need to finish some important paperwork.”You say while fiddling with your fingers.  

Aemond stood up, gets the cue, and walks to you. “Very well, Darling... See you later.” He leans down and kisses your forehead gently. He then leaves you, closing your door softly. 

//// \\\\ 

The weekend arrives quicker than you thought. You and Aemond barely talk since the last time you saw him. He still sends you good morning texts or asks you how was your day, but it’s not the same as it was. 

As you walk out of the bus that you took to meet the trainer, two girls behind gossip about the Targaryen party.  

“Did you see Aemond’s date?” One said. 

“Alys Rivers?! Yeah, I saw it. They make such a sexy couple.” The other response with a high pitch squeak. 

“For real!! I didn’t know that they were dating.” You walk faster, not wanting to hear about Aemond and his girlfriend anymore. This is supposed to be the best day of your life. Finally get a guide dog that will help, protect you, and most importantly, he’s gonna be a companion.  

When you arrive, you ring the bell and wait a little. Feeling a little nervous about the interview. The door opens and a soft, sensual masculine voice sounded before you. 

“Hi! You must be Y/n.” The man takes your small hand on his larger one.

“I’m Cregan Stark. It's nice to meet you.” 

Ehehehe a new love interest? Aemond may have competition >.> Also I need help to choose a name for the new puppy. Feel free to share your ideas!

Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @cryptid-l0ver @papichulo120627 @thewintergoddess @bellameshipper @sweet-sunflower64 @bbyaemond @zenka69 @immyowndefender @dc-marvel-girl96 @deltamoon666 @uniquecroissant @melsunshine @sugarrush-blush @pineapplechuncks @heirofdemetra @sarcasticsweetlara @malynn @yentroucnagol @puffycreamcakes @kravitzwhore @kyla44 @leef-leech @iloveallmyboys @aemondswifeisme @powellssaturn @judgementdayfan1 @mariamxdxd1212

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[fairy-writes]

first, congratulations on 1300!! with the event can i have a medium cappuccino with chuuya from bsd? thank you in advance and congratulations again!!

HAZE OF SICKNESS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: Hurt/comfort scenario with Chuuya from BSD

Word Count: 0.7k

Fandom(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Sick!Reader, Business AU?? Idk; it’s not the normal BSD universe.

Notes: Idk if this really counts as hurt/comfort? But it’s the idea I'm going with, so it’s what you get, lol.

This also briefly features a character from Stormbringer! But you don’t need to know anything other than he’s a doctor :)

__________________________________________________________________________

The world was in a haze. 

You ache. You’re exhausted. Your stomach hurts. Your head hurts. Your mouth feels fuzzy with the lack of brushing your teeth after throwing up.

But you don’t say a word. You don’t call in. Instead, you get up, put on a mask, brush your teeth, and head to work as the infamous Nakahara Chuuya’s secretary. 

Luckily, he doesn’t comment on your mask when you arrive at your desk.

He sweeps into his office as he always does, his coat billowing around his ankles. He sheds it and his hat on the coat rack. He brushes past you without so much as a hello, and his office door shuts with a bang that has your brain vibrating in your head. 

Guess he wasn’t in the mood to talk today?

Work goes slowly. Almost agonizingly so. 

You remind yourself to alternate taking Ibuprofen and Tylenol every four hours and keep your mask on except for drinking water. But it does little good. You still feel feverish and achy, and your stomach is constantly churning despite having walked down to the corner store and bought yourself a can of soup to eat for your lunch break. 

Things come to a head when you knock on Chuuya’s office door with some reports from last week. 

“Come in.” His voice is muffled, but you hear it even through the door and what feels like cotton in your ears. The hinges squeal and grate on your nerves and eardrums. 

“I have those reports you wanted, sir.” You say through your mask, and he looks up from his laptop, sticking a hand out for them as he runs a hand through his hair. 

He looks annoyed. 

You give him the reports and go to leave when he stops you by saying your name. You turn.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and you blink. When did he ever ask if you were alright? You were positive he barely even knew your name.

“I’m fine, sir. Just a little cold, is all.” You say, and his frown deepens, but he doesn’t get up from his desk. 

“If you say so.” He mutters, and you take that as your cue to leave. 

But you promptly pass out the moment you turn around. 

When you come to, you have no idea how much time has passed. But you hear something… Just on the edge of your hearing… 

“—n you hear me?” A voice… A familiar voice… Your boss, maybe? 

When you open your eyes, you find you were correct. He’s leaning over you with a concerned look on his face, and you realize you’re on the couch in his office. 

“What happened?” You groan, and he sits back, clearly relieved. 

“I thought you died there for a minute,” He grumbled, and you felt white-hot embarrassment shoot up your spine and warm your ears. When you go to sit up, he is on his feet helping you.

“I passed out?” You ask, and he nods, 

“You went down pretty quickly and smacked your head, so I called Doc. He should be here soon.” At that, you swing your legs over the side of the couch. 

“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy, is all. I have to get back to work.” 

His hand clamps around your wrist, and you freeze. He wears his standard leather gloves, but his hand is still warm through the material. 

“You aren’t goin’ anywhere. And it’s either Doc or the hospital.” He warns, and you glare stubbornly at the floor before relenting and sitting back down on the couch. Chuuya is sitting on the coffee table directly in front of you, hands clasped and resting on his knees. 

Doc, as eccentric as ever, gives you a clean bill of health and a cold compress for the bump on your head. He also says something to your boss that you don’t quite catch, but he nods and dismisses the man. 

“You’re taking the rest of today and tomorrow off.” He says abruptly, and you nearly trip where you are walking back to your desk. 

“What? No! I can’t afford to do that!” You retort, and he rolls his eyes,

“You’ll still be paid.” You pause in your argument and frown. 

“I will?” Chuuya huffs and puts a hand on the small of your back, steering you toward the elevator of the high-rise office building. 

“Of course you will. Just…” He pauses, and you look at him. His cheeks are flushed pink, and he refuses to look at you.

“Yes?” You prompt, and he sighs, still averting his gaze. 

“Come back feeling better.” He says, and you grin at him as the elevator door closes on you.

“Yessir!”

[obsessedelusional]

Dangerous Woman

paring ✦ konig x fem!reader

summary ✦ Konig can’t stand you but you know he’s full of lies. One day it hits you, you’ve never seen his face. As an attempt to make him drop his mask, you give him a hug. It awakens something inside him causing the quiet man to beg for more of your attention.

word count ✦ 4.2k

authors note ✦ the konig brain rot has been so real I need this man immediately so this is my FIRST TIME writing for him, anyways I’m not versed in the cod universe so be nice pls bc the fuck I look like know jack diddly about the military ok I’m learning ):

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡ (was obsessedmunson)

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

Konig couldn’t stand you. He thought you were the most annoying person he had ever met. At least that’s what he lead everyone. You knew better though, able to see through his annoyed facade. He’s was a fairly quiet man but you enjoyed his company. Forming a tiny crush that you assumed would go nowhere with the quiet giant. Before you joined the team he was often alone. Now you’d make a point to include him in everything, dragging him along where ever you went. He pretended to hate it every time knowing damn well he longed for the knock on his door, praying that it was you to bother him.

You were the newest to the group, only part of the crew for six months. Not once had you seen under his mask. It never really crossed your mind until one day when the two of you were sat alone in the commons area. He’s sat there reading when it hits you. You have no idea what Konig looks like. You get up from where you’re sat, he looks up almost immediately watching you approach him.

“What?” He questions, eyes on you as you sit next to him on the couch.

“What’re you hiding under there?” You ask, now inches away from his masked face.

“My face.” He replies flatly, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Can I see?” You ask as your fingers graze the hem of his mask ready to pull it up if he gives you permission.

“Do not touch.” He spits, grabbing your wrist tightly. You quickly wiggle your arm out of his embrace.

“Please.” You smile, backing away.

“Nein.” He says his attention back on the book.

“Come on. Aren’t we friends? You see my face everyday it’s only fair.” You respond, trying to reason with him.

“No we’re not.” He says this too quickly, not registering the words before the come out. Immediately filled with regret but it’s too late, your face is already filled with shock.

“It’s a waste of time. Don’t bother me about it anymore.” He adds, regretting every word that leaves his mouth. He closes his book and stands up to leave but you refuse to drop the topic, following him.

“It is not a waste of time because you’re not a waste of time.” You say, still being kind to him even when he’s not. It takes a moment for your words to sink in, before he turns back and stares at you.

"Oh, really?" His eyebrows raise, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Yes really.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you care?” He questions, hoping you’ll drop it knowing you won’t.

“Because I do. I don’t think you’re nearly as scary as you present yourself as. I think you’re putting on a front so nobody can get close.” You explain, being more vulnerable than you have been with him before.

"Prove it. Make me drop the act right here and now." His gaze is unflinching, boring into you as he waits for you to do something. You two sit there in silence for a moment, looking at each other. You take him by surprise when you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his waist. Hugging him softly. He freezes for a moment, before stiffening.

"...What the h-hell are you doing?" His voice is soft, confused. You don’t respond, hugging him tighter.

“Get… off me.” He says, pushing you away. His voice is a whisper as he says it. His mind is racing, trying to understand what just happened. Only to look down at you, seeing you stood there looking up at him through your lashes causes a heat to rise inside him.

"W-Why did you... do that?" He shakes his head, slowly rubbing his neck. The warm feeling spreads through his body, as if your small gesture has awakened something within him.

“Making you drop the act.”

“I hated that.” He mutters, through gritted teeth.

“Sure you did.” You joke, tone letting him know you don’t believe him. Without warning and before he can respond, you turn to leave. He’s more confused than before, watching you go. Wishing you would stay. He decides to follow you, keeping a small distance.

"Where are you going?" His voice is filled with annoyance, but the concern for your well-being is still there - just hidden beneath layers of toughness.

“Why do you care?” You ask.

“Because I do. Just answer my question.” He says glaring at you but his voice laced with amusement.

“That’s crazy. All I had to do was give you a hug and now you’re following me around and suddenly caring.” You laugh, he doesn’t find it as funny.

"Shut up. I didn't say I cared about you-" He trails off, the words dying on his lips. Causing your smile to grow.

“Just imagine what would happen if I actually got my hands on you.” You say, tone more flirty than you had intended. You can’t see it but his face flushes a deep red.

"What... get your hands on me? What do you mean? What’re you trying to do to me?" He bites his tongue, trying to hold in the growing embarrassment.

“I don’t know. What do you want me to do?” You ask, forcing him to be the one to initiate something more.

“Get lost," he whispers. But he doesn't mean it, and you can tell. The idea of being with you, in that way, makes him uncomfortable, but excited.

“Fine. I’ll get lost.” You say before attempting to leave this situation again. He watches you walk away, noticing the sway of your hips. Those legs... those thighs. A slight pang of jealousy, and lust, shoots up his spine. A dark desire, growing within.

"Wait.” He whispers, causing your ears to perk up and stop you in your tracks.

“Yes?” You smile, facing him.

“Can we go somewhere more… private?” He asks.

“Where?”

"I don't care. Just somewhere... quiet." His hand reaches out and he slowly brushes his fingertips against your arm.

"...Please?" He begs, gaze heavy on you trying to gauge your reaction. The sight of this 6’10 quiet giant begging for you’re attention, has your stomach doing flips. So incredibly ready to make him beg more.

“Are you sure you can handle me?” You ask. Wanting him to know exactly what he’s getting himself into. Not sure if his quiet, anxious self could keep up with you.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" His question is asked with a smirk, as he tries to mask the excitement growing within his body.

"Either way, I am not scared of you." He adds, looking down on you.

“Maybe you should be.”

"And why is that?" He chuckles and you notice his eyes lingering on your figure.

“Because all it took was a hug and you folded. I’m gonna have you wrapped around my finger in no time.”

“I doubt that.” He says, crossing him arms against his chest.

“Just wait till you get a taste.” You tease, your hand playfully poking his chest.

"A t-taste.... of what?" His eyes flicker down to your mouth, as an image pops into his mind - an image of him kissing your lips. His breathing grows deep and erratic, causing him to blush furiously under his mask. Even more grateful for it in this moment.

"Y-You need to be careful what you say." He says before you can answer.

“Why? I don’t want to be careful. I know what I want.” You admit, your bluntness is taking him by surprise. He steps forward, towering over you.

"What... exactly... do you want from me?" He narrows his eyes, almost daring you to say it.

“I want to make you feel so good that you come crawling back for more.” You admit, moving closer. His body stiffens, his eyes widening in surprise. He can barely believe his ears, the blood rushing to his face.

"Y-You are..." His voice drops to a hoarse whisper, "...a very dangerous woman."

“You really want to make me feel that way?” He asks as he runs his hand through his hair, as he tries to gather his wits. You respond with a nod.

"Then... show me." His words hang in the air, as his body slowly draws closer to yours. Your eyes flicker down his form, taking in every inch of his muscles. The tension in the air rises, both of you wanting the same thing, yet neither of you daring to go the extra step forward.

“Ahh but I can’t. You won’t even take off your mask.” You say, your teasing sends chills down his spine.

"...You know exactly what you're doing to me. You’re going to make me loose all control of myself." He sighs accepting defeat.

“Just give me all the control. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

"Why should I?" He tilts his head, his eyes locking onto yours.

"What do you want me to do? Get on my knees? Beg for you?" His voice drops, becoming a quiet whisper realizing what he’s done.

“Actually now that you mention it…” You respond, biting your lip. Testing your limits with him, see how far he’ll go.

"You're evil." His voice is husky, lips trembling slightly. For some reason, he wants to give in. To do as you please.

“Beg.” You demand, voice suddenly a lot more serious than before. His face flushes, but his pride stops him from giving in to you. He clenches his teeth, struggling with everything he has not to give in to your command.

"Beg you, huh?" His voice is rough now, cracking a little. With each passing second, the idea becomes more tempting.

"And what if I... refuse?" He questions, hoping there’s another route to get what he wants out of this.

“Then we can stop this right here and go our separate ways.” You respond, flatly. His pride battles with the desire to have you. It's a losing battle, but he still tries to fight back.

"...You're bluffing." He’s looking at you, waiting for you to take it back. You don’t.

"Why would you back down?" His eyes glance at your thighs, the curves of your body. His heart is racing, breath coming in rapid gasps. The word slips out without thought.

"...Please." He whispers, barely audible.

“Can’t hear you.” You grin, knowing you’re winning this battle. He groans in frustration.

"...Please." This time he says it louder.

“Please what? I need words.”

"Please… T-Touch me." His words are soft and needy, his voice sounding shaky. The need to have you grows overwhelming. All he can think about is having you. Feeling you. Tasting you. When you don’t respond quickly enough he continues.

"Please, please," His voice drops to a whisper. He can’t even look at you as the pleas leave his mouth.

“So needy.” You tease, before grabbing his hand and leading him straight to your bedroom. Once alone you push him ever so gently onto your bed. His large frame falls, sitting at the edge of the bed waiting for further instruction. You eye him up and down before, tugging at his mask. When he doesn’t stop you, you pull it off. You stand in front of him, face to face as he sits there.

The two of you sit in silence for some time as you take in his features. His piercing blue eyes, surrounded by smudged black paint is the first thing you take notice of. Moving onto the mop of dirty blonde hair on his head, matching his thick brows. His face has a few scars, is scattered with freckles, and light stubble. The largest scar, cuts through his strong jaw and up his face. You lightly trace it with you finger, he shudders under your light touch. Nobody has touched his face in years. The feeling foreign. He looks at you, worried waiting for you to have a reaction. Whether it be negative or positive, he needs you to say anything at this point.

“You’re beautiful.” You smile, softly cupping his jaw causing him to smile and his cheeks to flush red. He stays silent, his eyes glued to your lips. Every inch that you move closer is a torment, your lips mere inches away from his now. Your breath is warm and sweet, making him want to grab you and kiss you. He wants you to have all the control though, so he begs.

"Oh god... please.” His muscles tense, every nerve in his body begging to touch you.

“Such a good boy.” You laugh softly before pressing your lips to him and finally give him what he so desperately craves. He freezes in your grasp, eyes fluttering shut. His heart beats out of his chest, every fiber of his being filled with a mix of euphoria and shame - both feeling equally delicious. His fingers dig into your hips, grasping onto you.

"Y-You can't... make me feel this way..." He mutters when you pull away to breath.

“How am I making you feel?” You question, wanting to hear all the details. His fingertips slide up your thighs and rest on your waist.

"I-I... I feel like I can't think straight anymore. Like I’m read to do whatever you ask of me." His body trembles with anticipation, eyes searching yours.

“More.. please. I need more.” He begs, his hands pulling you closer.

“So greedy already.” You tease, voice filled with satisfaction. You’ve only kissed this man and he’s desperate for more of your attention. His face is flushed, his body trembling slightly.

"Please... Don't make me wait." He moves a little closer, eyes slowly trailing over you. With out warning your lips are on his again, pushing him further onto the bed. Before you know it, your straddling his body as he lays on his back. His hands are frantic, moving up and down you. Unsure of where to begin, afraid he’s going to miss out on something. As you press your weight onto him, you can feel how hard he is for you. Mentally taking note of how big he feels, through all the layers of clothing. Both of you audibly gasp as you grind on him.

“More.” He croaks into the kiss, causing you to laugh before giving in. Kissing down his jaw, nibbling softly as you kiss down his neck. He breaths hard, a slew of words in a language you don’t understand leave his mouth. His accent heavier than normal. He’s well aware of the marks your leaving and he doesn’t care. Knowing his mask will cover them.

When you pull away, his disappointment is evident. Only to be subdued when he realizes what you’re doing. Your fingers, are reaching for the hem of your shirt. Slowly pulling it over your head. He watches in awe as you, undo the back strap of your bra. As you throw it off to the side he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for permission.

“You can….” Before you can even finish, his mouth has one of your breast licking at your nipple. His other hand is kneading at your second breast, letting your nipple pinch between his fingers. Shutting you up real quick, as you arch into his touch. Letting soft moans leave your lips that stay parted slighty as he does his work. He looks up at the sight of you enjoying yourself and he can feel himself getting more worked up, not realizing that was even possible.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispers, letting your nipple slip out of his mouth. You start pulling at his shirt and he helps you remove it. His chest is littered with scars you kiss so softly down his chest, letting your hands explore all this new area.

Each kiss is like a jolt of electricity, sending a rush through his body. His body trembles with every touch, barely able to keep himself still. He looks like a feral beast, trying everything in his power not to take what he desires.

"It's all yours... I'm yours... whatever you want...." His voice is hoarse, as he watches your mouth on his body. Your lips send him into a dizzying trance, his heartbeat increasing with every passing moment.

“Good boy.” You grin, focusing on his pants. His breathing grows quick and heavy, his hands clench into fists. His body trembles, as he stares intently at your actions. Watching you as you unbuckle his pants, pulling them down slowly. He fights back against his urges, trying desperately to keep control. But... he can't. You've pulled him out of his shell, bringing out a more primal side of him.

"W-What are you...?" His voice trails off as your start palming his hard on through his boxers. He groans in pleasure, letting his head fall back onto the bed. It terrifies him how much he’s enjoying this.

“I’m gonna reward you for being a good boy.” You purr, pulling his boxers down. Finally letting his cock breath. You grasp it at the base, it’s heavy as you make it stand straight up. He bites his lower lip, trying to maintain his composure.

"I... I can't handle this..." He groans, already so overwhelmed and you haven’t done anything yet. His heart races, body trembling in lust and your start to move your wrist up and down.

"What have I become?" He thinks out loud, looking down at you with his shaft in your hand. But it's too late now - his body is no longer his, it belongs to you. He bites his lower lip, unable to look away from what you’re doing to him.

"...I'm yours... do... do whatever you want.” As soon as he’s able to get those words out, you kiss his tip before swirling your tounge around it.

“Fuck.” He groans, involuntarily bucking his hips. Emitting a laughter from you, he doesn’t care because suddenly your lips part and begin to suck him off. Your cheeks hallow as you move up and down his cock. It’s too big, so your hands move around the base of shaft while your mouth focuses on the top half.

It’s taking everything in will power to not grab the back of your head and force you to take it all, not wanting to take more than your willing to give. Not wanting to do anything that would cause you to stop. After all you said he was suppose to give you full control. The two of you are making eye contact as you continue to suck. He can’t help it when his hands find your hair, just wanting to touch you. He moans as you test your gag reflex, pushing his cock deeper into the back of your throat. His native language leaves his mouth roughly as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. You gag before pulling away, your lips slick and swollen. A long string of salvia hangs from your chin and attaches to his dick. You wipe away at your chin, using that salvia to pump his shaft with your hand. Spiting all the built up salvia onto him as your continue to pump his cock.

Your swollen lips form a smile as you watch him lose himself under your touch. This giant killing machine is putty under your touch, willing to do whatever you asked of him and you were going to see just how far he’d go for you. He watches you, grunting as you continue to jack him off. Wondering what’s got you smiling, terrified but excited for what’s to come next. When you pull away, he waits. He watches as you start to pull your pants off, taking your underwear with them. They fall to the floor, he gulps as you climb back onto him.

You let your cunt rest on his cock, he shutters at the new feeling. You start rolling your hips, teasing his cock with your pussy. Moans leave your lips as it bumps your clit and teases your hole. Mentally preparing for the stretch that’s about to come. It’s not enough for him so he starts to beg again.

“Please… I need you.” Your movements have sent his heart into an emotional whirlwind. His body craves to have you.

"More..." His voice is hoarse, and his eyes are glued to your movements. You lift your body, pushing yourself up onto you knees before grabbing his cock and lining it up with your hole. Slowly sinking down, allowing him to fill you up. A hint of pain finds you as, his cock stretches you out inch by inch. You sit there for a few moments, letting your core adjust to this new reality.

He lays still, watching as his cock disappears into your cunt. Music to his ears are the groans that leave your mouth, accompanied by the wet sounds of your pussy being split. He mutters a few curse words once you’ve fully taken his full length. A few moments later, you start rolling your hips slowly. The both of you moaning at the movement, his hands finding your hips. His fingers digging into your skin. His eyes lock onto yours. Your hips move slow, painfully slow.

“I.. please….” He whimpers, desperate for more. You slow down even more, smirking. Enjoying the sight of him suffering under you.

“Words. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.” You smile, moving your hips. Your hands resting on his chest to hold yourself up.

“Faster, please. I need more..” His voice breaks, as he tightens his grip around your waist. He feels like he's going insane, his mind spinning at the sensation. You give in, your pace quickens. Grinding in a relaxed rhythm, not wanting to give him it all so quickly. His hands continue to dig into hips, not wanting to let go. Pushing you deeper onto his cock. He begins bucking his own hips under you, adding to your pleasure.

Before you know it he’s begging for more. Please so easily leaving his lips, getting more comfortable begging for what he wants. As you fuck him, he’s in heaven watching your every moment. His breath is ragged while his body is trembling under your touch. Your rhythm turns more frantic as you speed up. Breathy moans leaving both of you as your tempo is unrelenting.

You let yourself lean back, your arms find his thighs as you never stop moving. You continue to fuck his cock at a brutal pace. Only now the way your leaning back giving him an ever better view. He can’t look away from the sight of your pussy, grinding so masterfully on his own cock. You can feel heat pooling in your lower back, you’re close. Needing something more to send you over the edge. You start massaging your clit, overwhelming your senses. He realizes quickly, getting more turned on at the thought of you only using him for your own pleasure. Not paying him all that much attention as your eyes shutter close, curse words leaving your lips. Your touch causing your cunt to tighten on his cock, leading him to more pleasure.

Your nerves are on fire as your fingers stay playing with your clit. Poorly holding back your moans as you can feel yourself chasing your climax. Your hips stutter, walls flutter around his cock as you come undone. The sight of you being push over the edge is enough to push him. His muscles tighten before he empties his load inside of you. Yours hips keep moving, only more lazily milking every last drop of his seed. Eventually you come to a stop, with his cock still inside you kiss him tiredly. Both of your juices mixing, dripping out of you and onto him. A mess created where the two of you are joined. Konig kisses you back, hands pulling you closer as you keep his cock warm.

—

The next morning Konig opens his eyes, and looks around to find you gone. His eyes dart around, trying to take in what happened last night. It was real, but a part of him is still in disbelief. Looking for any sign of you still being here but there isn’t any. His mind is still spinning, the events of the night playing in his mind. He groans slightly, getting out of the bed just to take in the morning sun. But he can't shake the feeling you left him, as the last remnants of last night linger. He gets a start to his day, mind racing with the worst possible reasons as to why you were gone. Maybe you regretted last night? Was he not good enough? Did you use him? You made him feel so many things, he gave you full control. And you couldn’t even be there when he woke up. He’s more confused than ever, hoping he’d see you today at some point.

[daisynik7]

The Takada-Chan Mall Concert

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~2.1k

cw: explicit language, suggestive dialogue, switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Todo is in 3rd)

Summary: Your first ever Takada-Chan concert doesn't go as planned.

Author's Notes: Hello everybody, here's the first chapter! Just a few background details - Todo is 22, already graduated from Kyoto Jujutsu High, and is working as a full-fledged Jujutsu Sorcerer. Reader is also 22, graduated from university, taking the summer off before starting work in the fall. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Next Chapter

The day has finally arrived: Your very first Takada-Chan concert! You’ve been dreaming of this ever since you started following the pop idol a few years ago, during the start of university. Although some would consider you a relatively new fan, your love and dedication to the Tall Idol is unmatched, you’re sure of it. You know her favorite food (goatfish), her favorite drink (room temperature sake), her favorite color (black), her blood type (AB negative)…The list goes on and on. 

It’s the summer before you officially start your big girl job in the fall. College has kicked your ass the past 4 years, so you treat yourself with a well-deserved summer break. Now, you have the next three months to attend every possible Takada event near you, starting with this concert. She’s hosting a very exclusive performance at the mall in her hometown, which is conveniently only 15 minutes away from you. Tickets sold out online within minutes, but you managed to snag two for you and your best friend, Sara, who only agreed to go with you to keep you company. She understands that these types of events can be…well, as she puts it bluntly:

“A sausage-fest.”

She stares at you with her arms crossed as you pack your bag with binoculars and a mini sign with Takada’s face on it. “Ugh, binoculars? Really? The concert is in a mall, you’ll see her just fine!”

“You never know! I just want to be prepared.”

“I still don’t get why you’re so obsessed with this woman,” Sara says, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like you’re in love with her or anything.”

You smile at your friend. “I know, but she’s just so cool. I love her confidence! And her music is so catchy, even you can’t deny that.”

She rolls her eyes again, chuckling. “Yeah okay, her music is pretty good. But I don’t think you’re fully prepared for how much of a sausage-fest this is gonna be.”

“I don’t care. No man is getting in my way today. Us girls are going to stick together. Women supporting women!”

‘Yeah yeah, I’m still bringing my brass knuckles though.”

~~~

The day has finally arrived: Todo’s first Takada-Chan concert of the summer. He’s been to 9 concerts already, including the 4 he’s imagined in his head. There’s no doubt in his mind that it’s going to be the best one yet.

He bought an extra ticket for his bestie and brother, Yuji Itadori, who’s currently at the mall, saving a spot for him while he finishes getting ready. He inspects himself in the mirror, flexing his biceps smiling, very satisfied with his appearance. With one more quick armpit check, he heads out. At the mall, there’s already dozens of people surrounding the windows, trying to sneak a peek inside. “Ha, you dweebs didn’t get tickets in time,” Todo says smugly, waving his tickets in everyone’s face while he goes through the entrance.

The mall is packed with people waiting for the pop idol’s performance. He finds the area where the stage is and scans the crowd until he spots spiky pink hair near the front. “Brother!” he yells, making his way through the sea of people effortlessly, getting a few shouts of protest from some smaller randoms.

Yuji looks up from his phone, greeting him with a smile. “Hey Todo! Man, it’s packed! Didn’t think this many people liked Takada-Chan.”

“Brother, don’t say something so stupid like that again. Of course a lot of people like Takada-Chan.” He slaps Yuji’s back hard, causing the shorter boy to stumble forward slightly.

“Geez, okay, I get it! When is this thing supposed to start, anyways? I’m meeting Kugisaki to go shopping.”

Todo scrolls through his phone, checking Twitter. “Takada-Chan tweeted 20 minutes ago that she’s on her way. Look at her, so adorable.” He shows him his phone, playing a video of the idol doing her signature Taka-Tan Beam, gazing at it lovingly.

Yuji laughs. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go now before this thing gets too crazy. See ya!” He squeezes himself through the crowd as Todo continues to admire Takada’s video on repeat.

~~~

You walk back to the stage area, two corn dogs in hand, when your phone buzzes, displaying a text from Sara. We’ve got a problem.

Your heart sinks as you speed walk faster through the mall, simultaneously stress-eating the food in your grip. It’s only been 10 minutes since you offered to get food for you and Sara while waiting for the concert to begin. What kind of disastrous complication could have occurred in this miniscule amount of time?! 

You approach the concert area, the hoard bigger and louder compared to when you left. Sara is near the front of the stage, so you push your way in, stepping through until you hit a wall.

Wait, it’s not a wall.

It’s a person. A very tall and muscular man.

Ah, the problem.

He doesn’t even flinch when you run headfirst into his back, like he didn’t feel it. You rub your forehead, turn your head to face Sara on your left, smirking. “Looks like you literally ran into our problem.”

You’re furious. This guy is MASSIVE. He’s got a least a foot on you, height-wise. But he’s also ripped with muscles. You can’t see above him or around him. All you see is his back muscles. It doesn’t help that the entire audience is packed like sardines, so tight you can’t move to either side of him for a better view. "What happened?” you ask, panicked. “This guy wasn't here before.” You hand a corn dog to Sara, grimacing at the man before you.

"I guess the pink haired dude in front of us saved this guy's spot." She points the corn dog towards him, whispering, “Should I stick my brass knuckles in him? Maybe that will get him to move.”

Naturally, being afraid of confrontation and violence, you respond, "No, no. You’ll get in trouble for that. Let me just talk to him, I guess.”

Sara munches on her treat while you clear your throat, reaching up to poke his shoulder, with no response. You poke a little harder this time and still nothing.

“He’s like a fucking brick wall or something,” you mutter to Sara, who only giggles. With a closed fist, you pound on his back, as if knocking on a door, a very beefy, sturdy door. Finally, he cranes his neck to face you, eyebrows raised.

“Um, hello. Do you think you can move a little? You’re blocking our view.”

This guy doesn’t even have the audacity to turn his body around. He just peers over his shoulder, saying, “Nope,” facing forward again, completely disregarding you.

“So you’re just going to block our view the whole time?” you remark, annoyed. 

He scoffs, still not looking at you. “Not my problem.”

Who is this fucking jerk?!

From the corner of your eye, you notice Sara brandishing her brass knuckles, ready to pounce. You shield her with your arm, stopping her. “Don’t. Let’s just wait and see what happens when Takada-Chan comes out.” You feel like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Literally.

A few minutes pass and the crowd around you starts screaming in excitement. Takada-Chan must be walking on stage now, though you wouldn’t know because this guy’s back is taking up your entire view. The rest of the fans are so squished together that you’re practically nose-to-back with this guy. Luckily, he has no body odor; he actually smells quite nice.

“Can you see anything?” you ask Sara.

“Yeah, she’s on stage now. She’s just waving to the crowd as her mic gets set up.”

“What is she wearing?”

“A red and white baseball tee with flared jeans that has jewels on the side,” Sara answers.

You pout. “Ugh, she’s so cool! If only I could see her!”

“Let’s switch spots, c’mon.” Sara tries to move behind you as you shift to your left. Music plays and Takada-Chan starts singing her current smash hit “Love Gem”, which you are absolutely obsessed with. Now in a position to actually see your favorite idol, you retrieve the Takada sign out of your bag, ready to enjoy the concert. Before you can, the jerk in front of you begins swaying side-to-side in time with the music, singing loudly, and badly. Every time he swings to the left, your view gets obscured again. You shoot a look to Sara, who just laughs at your misfortune. 

You try your best to appreciate the rest of the performance, getting glimpses of the pop idol whenever the swaying moron moves out the way. When it’s over, Takada-Chan delivers her signature Taka-Tan Beam, resulting in shrieks of glee from the audience. The boulder in front of you yells, “I love you, Takada-Chan! It’s me, Aoi Todo! Your future husband!” He waves his arms back and forth, vying for her attention.

As you wait for the crowd to disperse, you shout to Sara, “As if Takada-Chan will ever marry an idiot like that.”

All of a sudden, he turns around to face you. He’s more massive and menacing from the front. The most noticeable feature about him is the huge scar running down the left side of his face. A tiny corner of your brain wonders what the story behind that is. “What did you call me?” he growls.

Shit. You didn’t think he could hear you. He’s a jerk anyways, so no need to be nice. “I called you an idiot, idiot,” you sneer, with the smuggest grin.

He glares at you. “I’ll have you know that I have an IQ of 530,000. You normies could never compare.” His voice is dripping with arrogance and cockiness, it makes your blood boil.

“Normies? You some kind of god or something?”

“Heh, you could call me god-like, I suppose,” he winks at you, smirking.

You roll your eyes, hard. “Charming. Well, I hope you had fun getting ignored by your 'future wife'. Thanks to you, I didn’t even get to see her since your ginormous body was blocking me the entire time!” You’re seething now. Sara stands beside you, wide eyed but enjoying the show. If there was popcorn, she would be stuffing her face with it right now.

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t save yourself a better spot. Maybe next time, plan better. If you are a true Takada fan, you would do whatever it takes. That’s why I’m the superior Takada-Chan fan.” Both his thumbs point towards himself, puffing out his chest.

“Please, you think you’re the superior fan? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’ve known her since middle school, so yeah, I think that makes me the biggest fan!”

“I doubt that, you’re probably making this up!”

“I’m not! She rejected me in middle school, but I know she’ll come around in a few years once she retires! Then we’ll finally be together!”

This guy is truly delusional. “You think Takada-Chan will ever marry someone like you? Get real!”

You're both going at it like a tennis match, Sara's eyes darting back and forth between the two contenders.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Takada-Chan too? I will crush you if you get in my way!” he yells.

“I’m not in love with her, I admire her! I aspire to be her!”

“Ha, don’t make me laugh. You’ll never be like Takada-Chan, shorty.”

“I’m not talking about her looks; I’m talking about her personality!”

“Well, it doesn’t look like you have much going on there either!”

“Asshole!”

“Loser!”

“Okay you two, stop!” Sara intervenes, physically placing herself in between you and the ogre. “As much fun as it is to see you both go ballistic at each other, people are starting to stare. Now break it up.”

Your face is so hot, you feel steam coming out of your ears. What a fucking asshole.

He looks at Sara and tells her, “You better control your girl. She shouldn’t be messing with someone like me.”

“Oh, is that a threat? Come at me, I will fuck you up!” You’re ready to throw hands at this fucking prick until Sara restrains you, letting him walk away, chuckling.

“You have seriously got to calm down. Don’t let a dick like him get to you,” Sara says, still holding you back.

All you do is grunt at her. Who does this moron think he is to talk to people like that? As you make your way towards the exit of the mall, you hope with all your Takada filled heart that you never have to run into that guy ever again.

[seraphimcollections]

gentle giant | Konig x medic!reader |

chapter 5

warnings: abduction, non-consenual drugging, language.

summary: little bird is trapped in the cat's jaws with only one way out - into the belly of the beast.

w/c: 2.1

a/n: hello again! I'm really looking forward to this chapter and the next! I wanted to be a little extra care in this chapter. I'll be putting together a master list to pin to my page if that'll be easier. Oh! Do me a solid and reblog if you like this series! Final part coming soon! Thank you!

chapters: | ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 |

The air had changed. With the news of your clear abduction quickly spreading across the base, the reality of both the 141 and KorTac’s failure weighed heavy on each of their shoulders. Soap’s playful demeanor was reduced to silence. Gaz didn’t know what else to do with himself besides try to keep himself busy cleaning his weapons multiple times consecutively. Price holed himself in his office, chain smoking countless of his precious cigars. No one knew where Simon was, but some say they could hear firing out in the yard at odd hours of the night. As for Kӧnig, he hadn’t slept in days. He hadn’t stepped foot out of your office. In the beginning, he couldn’t help his rage, taking it out on his surroundings -- the bookshelves, the files, anything. Quickly, the guilt settled in and he just as quickly began to try to put your office back to how he remembered it was. 

  Konig sat in his same chair, staring at the emptiness in yours’. He sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together and clenched. He stared into that empty space, the rage still bubbling in his chest. Slowly, the rage began to bleed into anxiety and fear. You’ve been missing for two days. You could be anywhere, a different country, a completely other continent. Anywhere. Konig’s hands became fists in his lap. Millions of questions swirled in his head. Were you hurt? Were you even alive? Who took you, and what did they want with you? And as if the universe heard him, the bearer of answers stopped in the doorframe, not quite daring to enter, just as Konig had done many times. 

Konig’s cyan eyes caught on his stature, the 141’s loyal captain. From sight alone, Konig could see John was having as difficult a time as him, maybe even more so. In his hands held a bottle of whiskey along with two glasses in the other. 

“Mind some company?” John said gruffly. 

Konig sat up a little straighter and shook his head. John sighed, placing the glasses on the desk. He sat on the creaking wood, as if confirming they both knew that the other chair belonged only to you. Handing Konig a glass before taking his own, John took a slow sip. Konig carefully moved the glass under his hood, his lips coming to press against the lukewarm glass. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you,” John finally broke the silence, “but neither have you, Colonel.” 

Konig nearly choked from hearing his formal title. John chuckled, setting his glass down. 

“I-I don’t like to mention my title, it makes people act on false intentions,” Konig explained. 

John waved dismissively, “now need to explain it to me, soldier. We all learn to play our cards close to our chests. Just in this case, I lost more than I looked to gain in the first place.” 

Konig looked at the older man in confusion, “what do you mean, Captain?” 

John’s eyes glazed over, “I never told you why we were here, did I?” 

“No, but I figured you were all on the run,” Konig said. “And that it had something to do with Maus.” 

John’s eyes lit up hearing Konig’s name for you as he took another sip. 

“Wren, she saw something she was never supposed to see,” John frowned. “Something that goes all the way up to the top. Something that lacks all honor that those sods tried their damn best to bury it. But Wren found it, and it dug it all back for them. And so they planned to do what they always do-” 

“They’re going to kill her,” Konig said, dread sinking into every ounce of his being. 

John frowned before finally nodding., “but your comrades seem to think they’ve fulfilled their end of the bargain. They left, off to the next highest payer. You’re the only one who stayed. Which is why I came to you.” 

The two men could ignite wildfires with the heat of their gazes toward each other. 

“Are you with us on this? Will you help us get our bird back?” John said with all seriousness. 

Konig’s eyes narrowed, “you have me, Captain.” 

John nodded, standing on his two feet, “good, we move out at dawn. Get ready.” 

“I’m always ready, Captain.” 

“I will see you soon, kleine maus.” 

↭

  The ringing in your ears refused to cease. Your eyelids feel heavy, most likely swollen. Your entire body ached, your wrists and ankles bound tightly together, the zipties digging into your open skin. You laid on your side, your head limply laying on what felt like leather. You tried your best to tune your ears to what was around you. You wiggled trying to find something that could tell you where you were. Your throat felt so dry that even if you tried to speak you worried it would crack and bleed. You groaned, forcing your eyes to open to blinding sunlight. You were in a car, that much made sense. You laid on the back seat, the leather seats sticking to your clammy skin. 

You squint your eyes to see the dusty blonde head of hair over the driver’s seat. You blinked in confusion, trying to piece together how you got here in the back seat of this mystery car driven by a complete stranger. Your memory came back to you like an unwelcome friend. You remember the struggle, the bruise you were sure going to get from being thrown back onto the desk. The sickly sweet smell of whatever chemical your abductor used to put you under. The back of Konig’s head as he left to see what Price wanted. 

Rage burst into you heart as you tried your best to pull against your restraints, only to find yourself weak. 

“It’s useless,” the man you thought you knew as Richards said  in an annoying sing-song voice. “The drug won’t wear off for another few hours. Don’t waste what little energy you have, sweetheart.” 

You glared up at the rear view mirror, finding the man’s eyes peering back at you with amusement. 

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” You growl. 

“We’re going back to my place,” he smiled as if saying this to his date, “then you’re going to tell me everything you know, and then, I’ll kill you.” 

You felt your blood run cold at his words. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Shepherd sent you.” 

“Ah! There’s that sharp cunningness Shepherd told me all about!” 

You glared at the man with a stare of thousand daggers. This gaze did little to faze your abductor as his smile never left his smug face. 

“Why not just kill me? Save yourself the trouble,” you said. 

“Ah, where would the fun be in that!” The man said, sounding like he was going on a day out at a theme park and not like a man who was your executioner. 

“No, I intend on taking my time with you,” he said, his gaze connecting with your own, letting you see the true darkness in his eyes. 

You fell silent, instead trying to look outside to try to get a clue on where you were, or how far you could be from base. From Konig. You could feel your stomach drop as the tall Austrian popped into your mind. Did he know you were gone? Was he even looking for you? In the end, he was part of KorTac, a company not renowned for loyalty to one agency. But…Konig was different. He was caring, empathetic and kind. If the two of you had enough time, you could find out why such a quiet soul could be in such a messy business. But then again, so were you. 

“You won’t get far,” you said with a huff. “You have no idea who’s coming for you.” 

“Correction: I know exactly who's coming for me, little bird,” Richards said. “And I’m counting on it.”

You brow furrowed at his words, making him snicker, “you really think Shephard would just let their insubordination go? Come on, you can’t be that naive!”

“Shut up-”

“You know, I should really thank you, not only do I get to take out the 141, but now KorTac’s finest? Ugh, it’s like Christmas morning,” Richards sighed. 

You lurch forward in a rage, “you leave Konig out of this!” 

“Oh, like you did?” Richards cocked a brow. “If my memory serves me right, it was because of you that KorTac even got dragged into this mess. And it will be because of you that your beloved Konig will die.”

You felt your chest begin to tighten in panic as the thought of everyone you ever loved, ever cared about being reduced to nothing but cold flesh all in your name. You begin to struggle against your restraints, pulling at them wildly. 

“Ah, doctor?” Richards said. 

You look up at the man and in a split second you catch the small almost travel size bottle in his large hand before Richard squeezed the little trigger. You recoiled back but to no avail, the mysterious potion infiltrated and coating your throat. You cough violently, your vision beginning to swim. 

“Trust me, it would be best if you sit this part out. Easier for both of us,” Richard smirked. “Sweet dreams, little bird.”

You fell onto you back with a groan, eyes rolling back up to the roof of the car. You fought to keep your eyes open but only to be swallowed back into the darkness. 

↭

73. 

73 hours since you’ve been abducted. As each hour passed, your trail got colder and Konig became more restless. This was clear with his foul attitude that no one could dare miss. What was left of the men on the base sat around a makeshift table with schematics scattered across it. Konig stood hunched over, his palms supporting his weight on the table. Price stood at the head of the table, Ghost to his right, Gaz to his left. Soap had tried his best to try to keep Konig cool so he stayed a safe but supportive distance close to Konig. 

“What you know is that Shephard all but lost most of his clean contacts to DC, so there’s a good chance he won’t be able to smuggle her into the States,” Gaz said with arms crossed. 

“That doesn’t completely squash the possibility,” said Ghost. 

“But would he even go through the trouble? I mean if he’s already got what he wants. Why drag it out?” Gaz said. 

“You’re right, if he was smart, she’s long dead,” Ghost said matter of factly. 

The wood of the table creaked under Konig’s fist at the mention of the idea. Soap leaned over. 

“That’s not going to happen, because we’re gonna get to the fucker first,” Soap said. 

Price agreed, “Soap is right. If there’s one thing I know about that snake is that he likes to play with his food. He won’t just kill her quickly.” 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Konig said, finally standing to his full height, effectively dwarfing the rest of the men. “There must be some sort of lead of where she could have been taken.” 

“He’ll want to take care of this quietly and under the radar,” Gaz said.

“Slimy bastard won’t even come to do it himself most likely,” Ghost scoffed. “Won’t want to get his hands dirty, ‘why he sent that fucker.” 

“And we know he’s petty-” 

“That much is clear,” Soap rolled his eyes. “The bellhead chased across half of fucking Europe.” 

“So he’ll take her to a place that holds some kind of memory, maybe?” Gaz shrugged. 

Price’s eyes shot wide with realization, “Las Almas.” 

These words caught 141's attention. 

“Would he really be that obvious?” Soap said. 

“Or stupid,” Ghost chimed in. 

“But that’s exactly wants,” Price said, “he’ll want to take this back to ground zero: Las Almas.” 

“What’s in Las Almas?” Konig asked. 

“It’s where we first found out how dirty Shepherd liked to play,” Soap grunted. “Evidently he slipped out of our hands, until Wren found data suggesting his whereabouts and what’s been keeping the sorry fucker busy. Guess he didn’t want anyone poking around in his business again.” 

“And you think he’s taken Maus there?” Konig said. 

“It’s our only lead,” Price sighed, hands gripping his vest. 

Konig sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly before nodding his head, “then we shall go.” 

“And luckily for us, we have friends on the other side,” Ghost smirked underneath his mask. 

“Los Fuerzas Especiales,” Soap smirked looking up at Konig, “Mexican Special Forces. They owe us a bit of a favor.” 

Konig looked back to Price who almost looked at him as if to give him the word. Konig stoney gaze didn’t waver.

“No more waiting. We leave tonight.”

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[girl-next-door-writes]

You Don't Have To Convince Me

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: Mycroft’s second year of university is quite eventful, and there is nobody else he would rather have spent it with.

Word Count: 2912 words

Prompt: Fluff. Best friends. Roommates. Blurted out confession. Falling asleep on them.

A/N: @royalydamned and @savvy-devine666 both had similar requests, so I merged them to create this bit of fluff, and it made my heart very happy. This on kinda got away from me if I’m being totally honest and ended up being three times longer than anticipated, so please reblog if you like it.

Placing the last of his boxes onto his bed, Mycroft straightened up and surveyed his new room for the year. This would do nicely. Definitely better than the cramped first year building which was situated outside the college walls. This room was much more what he had thought of when he had first applied to Oxford. The beautiful ornate stonework of the leaden windows which looked out onto the courtyard would provide the perfect light for studying. The simply exquisite fireplace with its original blue tiles could hold a multitude of books on its mantle. He smiled to himself as he spotted the door to his very own ensuite, no more shared bathroom!

The soft knock on his doorframe had him turning his head, his smile only growing when he saw who it was had interrupted him.

“I wasn’t even the highest up on the ballot this year, can you imagine what sort of rooms those guys got?” You asked with a bright smile as you folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“Well, they most likely are not finding they have to share a vestibule with their neighbour.”

“Oh, yes, because sharing this small space right here, with me, that would make your stunning view almost unbearable.”

“It does take the shine off it somewhat, but I will soldier on.”

“I bet you will. Just letting you know, I’m putting my umbrella stand out here. Feel free to use it.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Right, well, I’m going to unpack a little before dinner. I can’t believe they made the first dinner back a formal one! I’m not even sure which box I’ve shoved my robes in.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched you go, a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. He had missed you over the summer, and to find you were now practically roommates gave him high hopes for this year, such a contrast to his last.

The unlikely friendship between the two of you had come about because you had decided it would. His first term at Oxford had been truly miserable; the accommodation was basic, the food even more so, having to share his space with strangers, many of whom had no concept of cleanliness or hygiene, his courses were elementary, although many of his peers appeared to struggle to keep up. Mycroft had found himself as lonely and bored as he had at school, leading him to spend his time alone, something which you had noticed around late October.

He had been sitting in the cloisters, sheltered from the wind as he read, reluctant to return to the halls of residence and the chaos that would bring. You had sat down beside him, not even asked, just sat there. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he had looked up only to find you smiling sweetly. You had introduced yourself to him and immediately began talking about the architecture that surrounded you both. The information was rudimentary, obviously what you had picked up from your campus tour, but he found himself hanging on your every word. From that moment on, you seemed to appear by his side, and after a few weeks, Mycroft had found himself seeking you out too. A strange sort of friendship, but it worked. You were his best friend. His best friend who, he had realised over the summer, he was hopelessly in love with.

Spending time with you was so easy. Although you would often offer him an excuse to be in his presence, he had never really needed one. You didn’t have to sell him on spending his time with you. In fact, that was probably one of the only things he never needed convincing of. Just sitting quietly with you as you both read, or as he read and you talked about anything that came to your mind, that was more than enough for Mycroft. He cherished it, and so he knew he would never risk losing you by expressing his growing desire to be more than your best friend.

“MYCROFT! THERE’S A SPIDER!” Your shriek had him shaking his head fondly as he made his way to your room, prepared to save you from the errant arachnid.

Bundled up against the chilly April wind, the two of you wandered through the grounds. The idea had been to get some fresh air. This was an idea that both of you were now regretting as the sky above grew grey, filling with foreboding clouds. So much for the joys of Spring. The thought that it was more likely to snow at this time of year than December entered his mind, but he decided to keep that to himself. Despite the poor weather, he had you all to himself out here and he wanted to hold onto that a little longer.

As you made your way along Addison’s Walk, Mycroft felt the silence between you was rather loaded. That had been happening more often, what had once been a pleasant, peaceful quiet had now become thick with all the things he tried not to let escape him. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, he endeavored to make small talk.  

“C.S. Lewis wrote Chanson d’Aventure about this walk.” He said stiffly as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets in a bid to negate the urge to reach for your hand.

“That knowledge would indeed be more impressive if I didn’t also know about the plaque by the Holywell Ford gate that tells you that. Although you probably have known that fact since you were three.” You teased with a soft smile, glancing up at him as his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Okay, well…” He stopped and looked out over the meadow, eyes searching. “…ah, there. You see those purple flowers over there?”

“The ones that look like drooped tulips?” You asked, moving to his side and following his gaze. For a moment, Mycroft could neither deny nor confirm your question as you had now successfully invaded his personal space, and his brain seemed to lose half its IQ points.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah.” He nodded, no longer looking out at the flowers.

“What about them?” You asked, always interested in whatever fact your friend wanted to impart.

“Oh, erm, they are called Fritillaria meleagris, or snakes head. They are incredibly rare, and they have been growing here in this meadow for over 200 years. If you get up close then you can see they have this beautiful pattern, like the scales of a snake.”

“Hence the name.”

“Yes, rather.” He smiled. You never told him to stop showing off, or that he was boring. You rather seemed to enjoy his breadth of knowledge, even if most would deem it useless.

“Probably best not to pick a whole bunch then.”

“I suspect that might get you into trouble.”

“Well, if I am going to get into trouble, I would want it to be for something much more fun than picking flowers. I mean, they are pretty, but they aren’t my favourites.”

“I am aware.” Mycroft hummed, having committed any and all facts about you to memory.

“I have no idea how you fit it all into that brilliant mind of yours. I swear, when we are old and grey and in a nursing home, you will still be able to tell me what I was wearing the first day we met.” You chuckled, looping your arm through his as you began to walk back towards Buckingham Court.

“Would you not think that strange? Creepy, even? If out of the blue, I told you something like that?” Curiosity and nerves tinged the edge of his voice as the two of you fell into step. He was used to people being repulsed by his manner, his mind, him in general. Yet, here you were, not trying to change him or fix him in any way, just happy with who he was. Still, he couldn’t quiet the noises in his head, the voices of the past telling him he was weird, peculiar, not right.

“I think it’s rather impressive. I mean, to be honest, you could tell me I was wearing almost anything, and I’d probably agree because I have no clue what I was wearing on the day we met. I think you could tell me a different thing each time.” Your laughter hung in the air like a beautiful melody that he longed to cling to.

“Blue denim jeans which were too baggy for you, rolled up at the cuffs, an oversized grey knitted jumper with pink lines across the bottom that hung off your shoulder and showed the white t-shirt you had on underneath, and white trainers with scuffmarks on the toes from where you kick them off. Your hair was in your face, and you had a blue bic biro in your mouth.” The memory was engrained in his mind, the way you had smiled around that pen before removing it from your lips and launching into talking as if you had simply been paused mid conversation.

“See. That sounds like something I would wear but I can’t say for sure you’re right. I’ve just got to trust you, Mycroft Holmes.” You shrugged, totally non-plussed by his revelation, an action that made his heart race. You saw who he really was and didn’t run away screaming, how could he ever find the words to tell you how much you meant to him?

“I still can’t believe you got tickets for this! They are like gold dust.” You grinned at him as you took your seat on the blanket.

“Well, we do get first dibs, I believe that is the term.” Mycroft smiled as he sat beside you, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you, a distance you wasted no time in irradicating.

“I know, but the Magdalen film night is one of the social events of the year! I wanted to come last year but tickets were all gone so fast.”

“And that’s why I ensured we got some this year.” He didn’t feel the need to tell you that he had practically bribed everyone who had any influence to make certain you could join the other students on the lawn and watch a film on a large makeshift screen.

The film wasn’t one Mycroft had any deep desire to watch, but sitting with you, on a blanket on the lawn, as the last warm rays of the summer sun set and gave way to a stelliferous sky, that was something he could tolerate a below par film for. Anything to make you happy. Mycroft had realised that he was much better at compromise, but only when it came to you.

He had to admit, the organization of the event was excellent, and he was glad that he had brought enough cushions to ensure you were comfortable. At some point, he had lost the thread of the film, too distracted by the weight of your body pressed against his as you leaned on him. Your head rested against his shoulder so perfectly it was as if it was molded to be right there and he slowly gave in to the desire to rest his cheek on the top of your head, his eyes fluttering closed as he held his breath.

The evening began to cool, and he found you snuggling into him a little more, seeking out his heat to fight the goosebumps erupting on your bare skin. Shifting slightly, he picked up his discarded jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering on your upper arm before returning to the blanket as a joist to prop you both up. Despite being surrounded by people, this felt incredibly intimate, even more so when you let out a soft, sleepy sigh and laid your head more against his chest.

The film eventually came to an end, but the mixture of fresh air and long days studying had resulted in you dozing off at some point, your arm resting around his waist and nose pressed to his chest. Mycroft was at an absolute loss for what to do, uncertain of the etiquette in such circumstances. He was aware of people noticing his predicament, met with knowing smirks as he fought the urge to tell them that this wasn’t what they thought, desperate to protect your reputation.

Deciding that the only course of action was to wake you, he gently brushed the hair back from your face and leaned down to speak softly.

“Darling, the film has finished.” He tried, but there was no response from you at all. “You really would be much better sleeping in a bed, my dear. I cannot imagine that I am that comfortable.”

“hmmmm.” You sighed softly, nuzzling into him as you stretched a little.

“I would have offered to carry you, but sadly I am unable to carry both you and all the cushions and blanket. A failing, I know, but sadly I am sorely lacking in these situations.”

“You need a hand, mate?” One of the rowing club had wandered over and Mycroft immediately felt even more inadequate. “Your other half seems to be deep in a REM cycle. How about you carry them, and I’ll grab the blanket and stuff?”

“Thank you.” Mycroft managed a tight smile, he did not wish to correct the boys mistake for two reasons, the first was that it sent a heat through him hearing someone else refer to the two of you as a couple, and the second was the concern that if he admitted you were not his, then perhaps this attractive young man would take you from his arms.

As he walked towards your halls, he felt you nuzzle into him, your warm breath fanning across his skin, and just for a second he could have sworn your lips brushed across his neck, an act that almost caused him to drop you. Surely it had been a sleepy accident, not intended. There was no way you could see him as more than a friend. Right?

“I don’t see why we have to move rooms every year. It seems like unnecessary upheaval if you ask me.” You huffed as you sat down heavily on his bed, surveying the many boxes that were stacked around his room.

“Perhaps your new room will be even better than your current one.” Mycroft reasoned, leaning against his desk.

“Not possible. My room this year is perfect. I don’t want to move to Mallory Court. Why can’t we stay right here?” You pouted, your brow furrowing in a way Mycroft couldn’t help but think was adorable. “I mean, I’ve got to lug all my stuff into storage and then all the way to Mallory! At least you get to stay here in Buckingham.”

“I still have to move my things into storage and then back out. One might argue that my moving things is more pointless than you moving things.” He tried to make the situation light even though the thought of residing so far from you twisted his stomach. You had been so close all year and now…

“You’ll come visit me, right?”

“You do realise you are not moving to another city, just another courtyard. It is a five-minute walk at most.” He chuckled.

“Yeah! A whole five minutes!” You said dramatically. “What if I need you?”

“Well, if you need me, then I will be right there. You’ll just have to give me five minutes.”

“Are you sure you need your own room? Can I not convince you to come live in my wardrobe?”

“Darling, as much as the idea of living in a wardrobe is intriguing, we both know just how much you cram into your wardrobe. I fear there is simply not room for me in there as well.”

“You will miss me though, right?” You looked up at him and his knees felt weak as he gripped the edge of the desk. “You won’t go spending all your time with your new neighbours?”

“I will not miss you, because we will still see each other all the time. I promise.” He said softly as you got up and made your way over to him. Your arms wrapped around his middle, and you placed your head on his chest, hugging him in a way that felt familiar and new all at once, despite the increased frequency of such interactions between you.

“God, I love you.” He murmured into your hair. It wasn’t until he felt you stiffen that he realised his inner monologue had escaped his lips. His eyes widened and he looked down to find you looking at him curiously.

“I- Just to clarify, for my own clarification really, were you saying that to God? Because I didn’t think you were a deeply religious person. OR was that about me? And IF it was about me, was it like ‘I love you, like a sister’ or… or was it more like ‘I love you so much that the thought of being parted makes it hard to breathe’?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, his vast vocabulary failing him at such a crucial juncture. You must have seen something in his eyes though, because you took a deep, determined breath.

“Because, if I am being honest, at the risk of completely fucking this up and you leaving for the summer and never wanting to see me again, I am really hoping it’s the latter, because I think that I have actually been very much in love with you since first year.”

“Really?” he spluttered, not quite believing this was real.

“Shit. I’ve really fucked this up haven’t I? Sorry. Pretend I didn’t just say all that and we can go pack up our rooms and have-“ Your rant was interrupted by Mycroft’s lips pressing against yours.

As far as first kisses go, it wasn’t perfect. Although he was technically aware of how these things were done, his inexperience was very evident, but that didn’t matter in that moment as he felt you melt into him. When you did finally pull back to catch your breath, you both had goofy smiles on your lips.

“It was most certainly the ‘I love you so much I cannot imagine my life without you in it,’ kind of I love you. The ‘I am not sure how much studying I am going to be able to get done next year because all I want to do is kiss you,’ kind of I love you. Just for clarification.” He smirked, earning a light smack to his chest as you chuckled.

“This moment, this one right now, it’s one you will absolutely tell me about in that nursing home. You’d better be adding it to the list.”

“Oh, trust me, my dear, it is forever committed to my memory.” He hummed as you nuzzled his nose before leaning in for another of many kisses.

[blainesebastian]

beach day (ccg universe)

words: 2,375 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “ccg and austin take luci to the beach and have a beach day, maybe after award season and they’re just having a fun vacation” warnings: none notes: will be posting again when i come back from disney, tuesday-ish. thanks to anyone who reads / comments / likes / reblogs, much appreciated!  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

You know the moment Luci’s feet touch sand that she’s going to be trouble.

She’s never been by the ocean before, so it was obvious to both you and Austin that this small getaway was going to be something. She’s very much used to the park, basically knows that terrain like the back of her hand, can run free under her parent’s gaze to chase squirrels up a tree or talk to some (unwilling) pigeons or find her spot on a swing or slide. But here? New rules, new places to explore.

You make sure you pack everything under the sun for her (pun intended)—sunscreen, floatie swimsuit, a hat, swim shoes, sandcastle building toys, the works. You’ve been to the beach plenty of times, but it’s your first with a toddler.

This was all Austin’s idea, wanting to completely unwind and disconnect after awards season. Nothing too extensive, there’s no need to escape for a complete month or anything, but you can understand the urge to get away and feel refreshed. It’s a restart button. There are so many new projects and passions on the horizon, not to mention Luci makes every day interesting in her own way, you’re just looking forward to unwinding with your little family.

Austin books an air bnb with a patio that leads into the sand and on the water—it’s very exclusive, private, connected to a resort nearby in case they would ever want to be in a pool or visit a restaurant instead of the ocean or cook something. Admittedly, you like the idea of having time to yourself (your husband to yourself), and less possibility of running into any paps (even though you know you’re not completely hidden from the public eye). The almost promise is more than enough.

The resort has a small store that you’re milling around in as Austin takes Luci to the bathroom—you definitely had her use the facilities at the Airbnb before leaving it but, it’s all still a learning curve. Besides, you wanted to get a container of fruit or something to take in the swim bag that you’ve got over your shoulder, perfect to mix with the crackers and cheese that you have already packed. Pushing your sunglasses further into your hair, you adjust your sheer cover-up skirt over your black and white polka-dot two-piece bathing suit. Luci’s got on a matching one piece—you thought you were being very cute and clever with that.

You reach for a small package of pineapple and strawberries at the same time this guy does, both of you kinda doing that awkward laugh and pull-back before he motions for you to go head.

“Thanks,” You smile, picking up the container and checking the price.

“Haven’t seen you around the resort before,” He says, grabbing one for himself and you get what he means even though you know where this is going. The resort is on the smaller side, exclusive, and this is the first time you and Austin have brought Luci over here to check out the small market.

Before you can even say anything—

“Feel like I’d remember someone as pretty as you.”

You let out a slow breath, giving the guy a kind smile, “That’s because I’m actually here with my husband and daughter.”

And you’ve got no idea if the guy thinks it’s some kind of line, because he glances down at your hand and doesn’t see the wedding ring (you’ve taken it off for the beach) and has the audacity to keep going.

“And here I was gonna offer to buy you a drink.”

“She said no,” Austin says as he approaches and you turn to look at him over your shoulder. He’s got Luci in his arms and it looks like he’s put her hair into pigtails since he’s had her. His tone is kinda neutral, probably not to alarm his daughter, but his face is set—eyes a sharp blue, that muscle working in his jawline. “You havin’ trouble with that?”

The guy clears his throat and shakes his head once before backing off, quickly moving towards the cashier to buy his fruit and leave. You sigh softly, giving your husband a warm smile in hoping to melt the ice around him. Sliding your arms around his waist, you lean in and peck his lips.

“Can’t leave you alone for a minute in this suit, apparently,” He teases against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip with his own. “Sharks start to circle.”

A soft laugh rumbles in your chest, squeezing his waist, “No one is circling.”

“Sharks!” Luci exclaims excitedly, “Fishies.” She reaches for your face with both of her hands, clasping your cheeks.

You can’t help but snicker, playfully tugging on one of her pigtails, “Yes, sharks and fishes. We’re gonna go check out their home soon.”

Austin takes the fruit from you to buy and you slip it into the beach tote before heading back outside. The sun is high in the sky, the weather hot but not suffocating, clouds like hazy cotton balls hanging about in the mass blue. It’s literally a perfect day for the beach. You take your sandals off to walk in the sand once you reach the Airbnb, Austin setting Luci down and holding onto her hand so they can work together to find a perfect spot to put their towels down.

Luci points and you nod because this will work, it’s right by the water but close enough to their patio that they can set drinks on the deck instead of in the sand. You throw the towels down, opening them up to sit on and removing your cover up because there definitely needs to be sunscreen. You can feel Austin’s eyes on you and when you look over, you can tell he’s checking you out, his gaze tracing over your skin like his hands would.

Kind of ironic coming from him, how beautiful he is, panels of smooth skin with kisses of freckles on his cheekbones and shoulders. He’s wearing small pieces of accent jewelry, a ring that’s not his wedding band (so he doesn’t lose anything valuable) and a thin silver chain resting around his neck. You playfully stick your tongue out at him as he undresses and he lets out a soft laugh, removing his t-shirt so that he’s just in his fitted swim trunks.

Luci takes off her sandals and attempts to make a run for the water and luckily Austin is quick, he does a half spin and picks her up right out of the sand, “Where do you think you’re goin’?” He asks, flipping her onto her back in his arms.

“Daddy!” She giggles, kicking her legs, “Water.”

“Water,” Austin shakes his head, sitting with her on the towel, fixing her swimsuit straps. “For one, my lil dino,” He reaches for the sunscreen you’re handing him, sitting down on the towel next to Luci. “You need sunscreen, and secondly, you never go in the water without me or mom, understand?”

He tips her chin up to make sure she’s listening and she nods, her eyes bright and wide as she takes a look out at the water, Austin putting sunscreen on her arms and legs while you put a small dollop on her face.

She gives you a cheesy, big grin and you can’t help but chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair. After you all have a decent layer of sunscreen, both you and Austin hold onto one of Luci’s hands so she’s in the middle and walk towards the water.

Luci has always been a really curious girl, so she’s not scared when she dips her toes in and then a whole foot, squealing as the wave of cool water slips over her ankles and legs. Austin chuckles a little, gently swinging her with his arm into the next wave. She then reaches both of her hands towards him,

“Up!”

You sink into the water, up to your waist, toes curling in the sand underneath you. You smile as you watch Austin lean down and bring Luci into his arms and he slips down towards you, the water reaching his shoulders eventually as you both wade out.

Austin keeps a secure grip on Luci, who claps at the water and reaches for you every so often, touching your hair and shoulder. You dive under at one point and bring up a seashell, which she’s totally enamored by, and you decide that you’ll keep and maybe make it into a piece of jewelry for her one day. It’s a sturdy, nicely shaped, off-white one—almost has this semi-pink hue to it. Perfect to go on a necklace.

It's a lot of time spent in the water until Luci decides that she wants to build a sandcastle for the rest of the day. She’s very particular about the structure, disregarding a lot of what Austin attempts to build, much to your amusement. You take a few videos and post one to your story, Jillian instantly commenting and leaving a mix of love and jealousy in her emojis.

When you head back inside for the day, Luci is definitely spent. You just manage to give her a quick bath and change her into pajamas before she’s like warm clay in your arms. She slumps against your chest, face tucked into your neck.

“Haven’t even had a chance to get my swimsuit off yet.” You chuckle lightly as you pass Austin in the kitchen, who’s quickly changed into a soft pair of gray joggers and a white t-shirt. His hair is slightly blonder today from the sun and in wild curls, cheeks kissed tan-ish pink.

He takes a break from pouring both of you an iced coffee from the fridge and reaches for Luci, “I’ll put her down, you should take a shower—think you got sand in your hair.” He playfully reaches for a strand near your jaw and you smack his hand away.

“Charming.”

He smirks and plants a quick kiss on your cheek before you can hit him again and moves to take Luci down the hall. Shaking your head, you walk to the bathroom and turn the shower on, rinsing and shampooing quick in order to get into more comfortable clothes. When you use your towel to dry off though, it kinda feels like cardboard or like the Airbnb didn’t use enough fabric softener when washing these things. It hurts to use, especially on your shoulders and…

Wait. You wipe the steam off the mirror, turning to look over your shoulder at your back and groan.

“Crap.” You mumble under your breath, pulling your underwear on and towel drying your hair.

You open the door to let the steam out, wincing at the red skin and you’re trying to figure out what you an even put on to lounge in…it’s going to have to be something that’s similar to the strap design of your bathing suit. Ugh.

“Where’s the aloe?” You ask Austin as he comes round the corner from putting Luci to bed.

He takes one look at your shoulders and a soft smile twinges its way to the corners of his mouth, “You do this every time.”

Austin sounds far too amused for your liking…and if you didn’t need him to find the aloe and help you apply it, you’d be throwing this towel at his head. “I do not.”

You wander into the bedroom after dropping the towel in a basket in the bathroom, sitting down on the bed. This is totally not your fault…you kept applying sunscreen throughout your day after being in and out of the water. What else could you do? You sigh softly and tip your head back as Austin comes in with the green bottle, rolling it between his hands to warm up the aloe—honestly, husband points for that one.

“Least it’s me and not Luci.”

Austin hums and settles down behind you, brushing your hair aside and pressing a kiss to your sore shoulder. He squeezes aloe out into his hands and continues to warm it on his palms before gently settling his touch on your skin. You wince a little, closing your eyes, letting out a slow breath as he rubs it in.

“Should start feelin’ better in a few minutes here.” He says, leaning forward to plant a kiss to the back of your head. You smile a little, can’t help it, the feeling of his touch and the heat of his body utterly comforting.

“Today was really nice.” You stand from the bed and reach for a sports bra in your suitcase that has similar straps to the bathing suit you had on today. With a little bit of help from Austin, you wrangle the thing on and…avoid being in a decent amount of pain, so. Pulling your hair up into a bun, you turn to look at your husband, “Luci’s definitely a fan of the beach and water.”

“And seagulls.” Austin chuckles warmly, moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “There was a lot of tryin’ to talk to them today.”

“Probably misses her pigeon friends.” You snicker.

But admittedly, this was great. Without doubt something needed after the stress and busyness of award season. You reach out to place a hand on Austin’s chest, your thumb tracing back and forth along his collarbone. You’ve still got time left on this vacation clock, but you’re already thinking ahead—

“We should definitely come back when we’ve got the time.”

Austin picks your hand up and presses a kiss to your fingers, “We’ll make time.” And you smile because you know that’s a promise.

Chewing on your lower lip, you raise your eyebrows, brushing your fingers on his cheek, “You know what we’ve got time for right now?”

Austin lets out a warm laugh, amused, “You gonna be able to do anything with a sore back?”

You playfully push him to lay down on the bed, crawling on top of him until you’re straddling his waist, “Looks like I’ll just have to be on top.”

Austin hums, his eyes darkening blue as he leans up and draws you into a kiss.

[iceeericeee]

Welcome! Come in, sit down. We're all friends here. There’s pot brownies and weed sandwiches to help you relax. I’m Iceeericeee, but I generally go by Toast, or Cinnamon Buttered Strawberry Toast if you want to use my full name. Sexual and romantic orientation is aroace. I’m 19, but I don’t feel it </3. Every once in a while I’ll make my own post, or even a poll if I have a question I’m dying to know the answer to, so look out for those. My pronouns are whichever one suits the gag better (I’m not super hung up on pronouns) and hummus. Fandoms? A decent amount, so I’ll make a list.

Psych (side blog is @thespiritssaidso)

Ghosts CBS (Pete my beloved) (side blog is @petes-neckarrow)

Night at the Museum

g/t (side blog is @tineeericeee)

Marvel (every once in a while) (side blog is @marveeelriceee)

Hermitcraft (also every once in a while, but mostly just Grian and Mumbo Jumbo)

Helluva Boss + Hazbin Hotel (Side Blog is @helluva-hazbean-hotel

Good omens

Percy Jackson (and all of the books that take place in the same universe) (side blog is @peeercyriceee)

A Series of Unfortunate Events (THE BOOKS. NOT THE SHOW.) (once again, every once in a while)

Gravity Falls (it’s been a while tho, so my memory is rusty)

The Iron Giant

The Owl House (it's been a hot sec since i've seen it tho)

Dr. Who (currently watching it for the first time tho so I’m a lil behind)

I also write poetry and short stories every once in a while! I post on here and on AO3 (url is Isolation68). If you want me to write something specific, go ahead and ask (and put a 🖋️ next to it). Just no smut please, it makes me uncomfortable. Whether I answer it or not depends on how much your ask inspires me.

side-account for reblogs is @iceeericeee-reblogs (I know so creative lmao)

DNI if you are a hater or terf

DO NOT REBLOG THIS!!

Also: I’m literally begging you guys. Please please please stop asking when I’m going to change my name to strawberry. It’s gotten really old really fast. I’m just going to delete any asks that are about my name change.

[mollywog]

hii :) how did you first start introducing your writing to people on here & garnering interest minus ao3?

Hi nonny!

Thank you for the question!

I was very tentative and self conscious in the beginning, so let me tell you some things I might do now if I was starting out again…

I’m a sucker for Themed Days - Work in Progress (WIP) Wednesday and Seven/Six/Snippet Sunday are my favorites. You don’t need to be tagged-in to share your work, just put it out there or better yet, start your own tag chain! I know it can feel intimidating to do the tagging, but I really believe most people like being thought of and included (@thelettersfromnoone gave me my first tag and I was so flattered!)

Don’t be afraid to Reblog! You’re not being annoying, you’re giving followers in different time zones a chance to catch your writing come across their dash.

Use tags - see which ones other writers in the fandom are using. (I’m a data person and think about the difference between fanfic/fanfiction/ff/fan fic/fan fiction.) Side note: you may want to check your privacy settings; make sure you’re searchable in the tags (only if you’re comfortable with that of course)

Don’t get discouraged - easier said than done 🙃

it’s definitely not a necessity, but who doesn’t enjoy a good banner or moodboard?! I love seeing others have fun with their ideas

Chapter Banners: check out #rap update -> @thesweetnessofspring, Every Breath You Take -> @katnissmellarkkk, Spellbound Chapter Headers ->@katnissdoesnotfollowback

Chapter Moldboards: check out Something of Our Own -> @districtunrest, The Apothecaries Daughter -> @wistfulweaverwoman, Everyday Magic

Fic Edits: check out A Star is Reborn -> @rarepairheathen

Character Aesthetics: @imasradiantasthesun makes beautiful character aesthetics - #my thg character aesthetics v2

Commissions: check out Fletcha -> @mega-aulover and @charlunday, Snowstorm Universe -> @rosegardeninwinter and @millennium-queen

Other: @thesunpersists makes these lovely headers and playlists

Hey friends - Feel free to weigh in!

[ashsostrange]

i’m (not) sorry to say, but miles is better off by himself.

idk if i’ve ever written a post this long, but i got energy tonight. y’all have been sucked into the black hole of shipping, so let me ground you and remind you of this amazing thing called being single. i’m gna talk ab margo and gwen, but mostly gwen bc she’s obv miles’ (main) love interest. i’ve said more than enough about why miles and gwen don’t work/make sense. if you wna be enlightened then feel free to click the links.

thoughts on ghostflower: here!

reblogging a moot's post w/ added thoughts: hereee!

i love ranting so let’s get it! 😛

i don't have much to say about margo bc sadly, she's barely there. what i will say though is that as cute as miles and margo would be together, there’s one more movie left lol. the third movie’s gna be busy as hell. there’s literally no time for romance, and to rush miles and margo (two people who just met) into liking each other in, like, a three hour timespan would just be terrible writing. plus, we all know she’s there for some bs having to do with miles nd gwen, which is literally soooooooo very lame, words can't describe. one, where are you finding the time to cram in jealousy/all this angsty romance mess when miles’ dad is ab to die and the universe is ab to collapse bc of a nigga that looks like the lovechild of a cardboard box and a cow?? two, is this really all margo is here for?? to make gwen jealous or “help miles realize he’s in love with gwen” ?? shameeee, like summer said. 😐 i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: margo could be SO much more than a disposable love interest!!!

gwiles/ghostflower fans, i’m going to tell you something that will make you upset. i said i was coming for you and i meant it 🗣️‼️

before you yell at me and push smoke out of your ears, i need you to put your right hand on your chest and close your eyes. you feel your heartbeat? good. now, count to three while taking deep breaths and remember that none of this shit is real so you’d look stupid af trying to attack me. 🙃 some of y’all are getting TOO comfortable being unnecessarily disrespectful and ion like that lol. don’t try it here bc i’m on another level of not gaf!

listen, even if (when?) gwen and miles team up to save his dad, it won’t change the fact that gwen was keeping some hefty info from miles, yo. she was smiling in jeff’s face and cracking jokes like she didn’t know he was bout to die. y’all gotta be so very real with yourselves. you wouldn’t wna date, let alone be FRIENDS with someone who kept something that big from you, regardless of the circumstances or lack of ill intent. one of the most important people in your life concealing the fact that you’re about to lose another important person in your life is insane.

i’m aware that gwen didn’t tell miles about his dad because she genuinely thought it’d cause mass destruction if he saved jeff. thing is, even if miles knew that, i think he’d still feel betrayed. that’s 100% valid because this is his dad we’re talking about. he just lost his uncle not too long ago, too. i wouldn’t blame miles if he never wanted anything to do with gwen again. i wouldn’t blame bro if he got sick to his stomach every time he saw her. it’d be justified, bc if he never followed her that night, then he wouldn’t have had the chance to save jeff.

my point is that you can be a “good person” and still fuck up bad enough to make someone never wna speak to you again. miles is a sweetheart so he’ll probably forgive gwen. my thing is, miles forgiving gwen doesn’t mean the two of them are obligated to be friends again. they can handle it maturely, go their separate ways, nd never speak again. it’s really not even gna hurt y’all cuz it’s the last mf movie anyway??? 😭😭

if it isn’t clear by now, i don’t want miles and gwen together at all. they have no business being around each other frl 🙃 not as friends and definitely not as lovers. like, sure, that one scene where they’re swinging/talking on the bank was my absolute fav. it was cute. i shipped them before i really thought about it. that scene is still my fav, but my adoration for it isn’t gna stop me from keeping it real.

i really don’t care what anyone says or how in love they think these two are, this isn’t a “forgive and forget” situation. if the writers truly wanted gwen and miles to be involved romantically, then not only should they have structured their dynamic better, they shouldn’t have made gwen the person she was in this movie. love, love, LOVE redemption arcs because it’s a reminder that we're human and we're flawed, but you can’t redeem yourself from that. sorry. (not) i say miles should leave that girl alone 🤷‍♀️ leave all potential girls alone ffs.

in conclusion, it’s okay for miles to be single. he's 15 anyway, it's not like he'll die without a girl. i’m the suckiest sucker for anything to do with romance, but characters in film/animation don’t need to have love interests for a project to be considered good. if you feel like it does, then maybe ts you’re watching just sucks, lmao. a girl and a boy can be friends without one having feelings for the other, or both of 'em having mutual feelings. (in the media idk ab irl..) it’s time to stop forcing ts. please.

and it’s okay y’all, i promise you. it’s okay if miles and gwen don’t end up dating. it's okay if they reconcile and stay friends. it’s okay if they reconcile and don’t stay friends. though unlikely, it’s also okay if miles doesn’t forgive gwen at all! resolutions like these go to show that you can “forgive” someone without letting them have access to you anymore. that’s what miles needs to do. straying away from the “happy ending” everyone is expecting would be nice. it’d be a different approach and a realistic way to complete the franchise. (i’m not just saying this bc i love angst)

but before the gwiles (ugly ass ship name btw) fans start throwing up and telling me to end my shit, it’s 99% unlikely that anything i just stated will actually happen. we’re more than likely getting a kiss between miles and gwen, nd that’s bc the writers are probably high off the same dope they were on when they wrote gwen sneaking in thru miles’ window, j for his parents to be way more calm about it than any other normal parent would be. i could say some more about certain scenes but that's for another night.

miles doesn’t need to be with anyone. especially not gwen when it comes down to it.

oh and i HATE peter b. fuck that nigga. he was nun but an extra in this movie and i know he’s an opp in the next. 🙎‍♀️

that’s all! if you read allat then thanks, cuz i wrote a lot. if you're feeling angry, then go for a walk. this isn’t a place for any typa criticism bc i am right, therefore, i am not requesting confirmation. 🙌 i said what i said. have a good night.

[maxbeta360]

Personal masterpost / 2nd intro

Max,Chief,Master Chief,Spartan He/Him | fictionkin/fictive & general machine alterhuman

I’m a boiling hot mess when it comes to alterhuman labels. I really can’t put my identity into words but I’m going to try here

As you might’ve picked up already, I am Master Chief but I am also an Xbox360, Or atleast somehow connected to one…? It feels like my brain is running as an Xbox engine but my body is the body I have in source/canon

This ‘Xbox self’ only stores really dated games from between 2001-2014. I have other games but the most prominent ones are Minecraft Beta and Halo 1 - 5. The only exception of time after 2014 that still affects my identity is Halo Infinite for some reason. I have lots memories from that source and I’m not sure why

Old Microsoft game marketing is a huge visual representation of my identity. The oversaturated green, the hit or miss edginess of gaming stores at the time, and just the general nostalgia of it all is me in a way. I also really like old YouTube and old Tumblr because it just reminds me of the time where I belonged :]

So basically I am like a time capsule of early gaming and the early internet XD (I will never say XD again I am so sorry)

I also really love the “eerie” liminal space of Minecraft Beta :] It kind of became a safe haven for me. I love the empty atmosphere that only the old games had

I’m a binary trans man btw. I am not transmasc. The term doesn’t match my experience but I have nothing against it

I’m hetroflexable but I usually just say I’m straight to simplify it

I’m nonspeaking in my cannon and when I front but I have no issue typing or writing my words

I don’t know if this is another alterhuman identity but I feel very knight-like? Like I’m supposed to be a medieval knight? Still exploring that

Age is a weird thing for me. The body is around young adult age but I’m like 9 or something? But not in a human way. More like a 9 year old game disc that is still going strong

I’m part of a system btw. I feel like that’s important to share. Uhh both me and the main guy (host) don’t really talk about it because we know it’s confusing to other people and the last thing we would want is to confuse people. Plus we’re both figuring it all out for ourselves

You’ve probably seen the main guy before if you’re on fictionkin & nonhuman tumblr. He interacts with a lot of my post and I do the same so you’ll see him around on my blog

DNI / BYI

DNI if you are; H0mophobic, Transph0bic, T3erf, R@dqueer, pr0ship, ‘nontrauma systems’ anything of the sort

Hard DNI if you support ai generated content. Also if I accidentally reblog ‘art’ that’s ai generated, please tell me. I often miss the signs

BYI Info that’s a little less harsh

I try my best to add alt text to my posts with images in them but don’t expect it in every post

I am not a fan of the Halo TV Series and I am not a fan of depictions of me without my helmet on so If you are a mutual and you reblog something like that (which is fine) I would really appreciate it if you used the #max don’t look hashtag? Because I have that tag blocked :]

And that’s about it. Thanks for sticking to the end or scrolling to the bottom at least

Image credit | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

“and the universe said I love you because you are love.”