#if I want to make it i have to set the timeline back by TWO MONTHS!!!

[levihanweek]

Hello! We are waking up with a bang

Back to our usual Secret Santa exchange! Let’s goo—

How the gift exchange works:

You will be assigned a partner to give your gift to (it doesn’t have to be christmas themed) thus they'll become your giftee.

Your identity will remain secret until the publishing date, so please make sure your inbox and IM are open so we’ll be able to communicate with you in case your giftee needs to contact you.

Info about the gifting:

All forms of works are accepted! These include but are not limited to: fanart, fanfiction, edits/graphics, gifs/animations, manga colorings, playlists, aesthetics, AMVs/videos, etc.

‎Reposting/copying/using another person’s work, and any A I generated works are NOT allowed. We won’t reblog any submissions that you did not make personally or any work that is offensive/discriminatory in any way.

‎Please be sure to tag accordingly if your work contains blood/gore/mature content.

‎For this event, we set minimum requirements for the gifts. We’d appreciate that you try your best to make your work meet the following guidelines:

↳art: draw at least a fairly detailed and colored bust-sized drawing or a b/w well detailed one

↳fic: 1.5-2k words across any genre

↳gfx/gif/edit: 2 big/complex images or 4 simple/small images for the photoset

↳misc: (the above are common gift types for exchange events, but if you plan on making something else and would like to know a minimum requirement for that medium/gift type or if you just have some doubts in general, feel free to ask us. We’ll be happy to help!)

Take these as a potential reference. You’re not obliged to but remember that someone else may be working hard on your gift, so it’s only appropiate to put some love into your piece as well (:

Timeline:

November 25 | Sign-ups will be closed by midnight EST. Be sure to fill up THIS FORM if you want to participate. Might close earlier or later depending on the speed/amount of the sign-ups.

November 26-27 | The mod will inform participants about their giftee and their respective wishlist.

December 14 | The mod will check in on each of the participants’ progress

‎December 25 | Time to post your gifts! If you publish your work here in tumblr, tag @ this blog's and your giftee's username, also include #levihan secret santa 2024 in the first five tags so we can be able to find it. We’ll be reblogging your works on this blog.

If you publish your work on instagram, tag @ale.man.art and your giftee's username, also include #levihansecretsanta2024. The posts will be shared and sent to people.

The date might be extended a day or two but it will depend on the progress of your works.

AN IMPORTANT PSA: If you feel like you cannot meet the deadline or want to drop out halfway, please message us ASAP and we will sort it out. We’d rather you be honest with us if you can’t meet the deadline than be a no-show on the day of.

[skeletboi]

Super short update because my life is a mess.

But here is part 24 of the Intridimensional Au!

First /// Previous /// Next

__________________________________________

“Impressive as ever.” Ford said as he looked at the robot arm on the work bench.

“Thanks, Stanford.” Fiddleford replied quietly.

Ford watched Fiddleford place his good hand over the arm then glanced up at Fiddleford's face and frowned.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Lots a’ things are, I reckon.” Fiddleford said with a humorless huff of laughter. “Ya know when I went back home fer Christmas and fergot ta get Emma-May a present?”

“I recall, yes.” Ford responded, his frown deepening.

“She was already purdy darn mad at me before that. I wore baggy sweaters ta try and hide the metal cast on my arm so she wouldn't go worryin’ ‘bout it, but Tate ain't dumb and heard the hum of the components. He asked me about it, ‘cuz he's at that age where they ask a million questions, and I told him it was a metal cast. ‘Course he's an imaginative kid so he immediately started calling it a robit arm. He ran ta Emma-May ta tell her, and I thought she was ‘bout to murder me on the spot.” Fiddleford paused and picked up the arm. “He'd love this, but Emma-May would hate it.”

“I love it, if that makes you feel any better.” Ford said, placing a hand on Fiddleford's back.

“It does.” Fiddleford said with another quiet laugh. “But I can't stop thinkin’ about that. Emma-May knew how I felt ‘bout you in college, and we got in a purdy big fight ‘bout it before I came ta Gravity Falls. I love Emma-May, but our parents both loved the idea of us bein’ together more than we did. I think maybe we were more like best friends than spouses, but I promised her I'd be back ‘cause, above all else, we jus’ wanted Tate ta have a normal childhood.” Fiddleford set the arm back down and choked on a laugh that sounded suspiciously more like a sob. “‘Spose I'll jus’ hafta live with the fact that he won't. I don’ know if he'll ‘member me at all.”

“Fidds…” Ford said softly, unsure of what else to say with his own guilt and regret tearing at his chest.

“If I knew it was gonna turn out this way I prolly woulda jus’ said screw it and kissed ya as soon as ya opened the door to yer damn creepy cabin in the woods.”

Ford cracked a smile at that, but Fiddleford still looked a thousand miles away as he stared down at the arm.

“You would have stopped me.” Ford said after a moment.

Fiddleford glanced over at him in question.

“You say you would have kissed me right then, but I know you, and, if you had known this was the outcome, you would have left.” Ford clarified.

“Maybe.” Fiddleford responded thoughtfully, “But maybe not. Maybe I’m too scared in every timeline.”

“Fuck that.” Stan said, coming up behind them and dropping the last box at their feet. “I saw your face when Ford mentioned fighting back against Bill. That wasn't fear. That was determination.”

Fiddleford smiled sadly over his shoulder at Stanley.

“I thought you'd grow out of being so cheesy.” Ford deadpanned.

“Nope!” Stan replied with a smile. “But if you two are done being nauseating, we have some boxes to go through. I found a box of brown meat! It says it expires in 1993, but who the fuck knows what year it is in this dimension. My plan is to eat it now, ask questions later!”

“I believe you meant ‘die of food poisoning later’.” Ford noted.

“Or die of starvation! Might as well eat mystery food and die the fun way!” Stan laughed.

“Dysentery don't sound fun.” Fiddleford replied.

“Whatever, nerds.” Stan said, motioning to the boxes. “Just grab what you want so we can get on with life. I found a shot gun, too. You're welcome.”

Fiddleford laughed but did as he was told and put aside his arm project to start rummaging through the boxes.

___________________________________________

Sorry non-Fiddauthor fans. I needed Fiddauthor.

I originally wasn't going to write this bit in, but I wanted to give some context to the guilt they're both still feeling and the relationship between Emma-May and Fidds. Emma-May is bi in this universe, but prefers woman. Is that a cop-out to make myself feel better about how much Fidds hurt her? Yes, yes it is. But I am doing it anyway because I do what I fucking want.

I have another art piece nearly done, so I'll probably post it tomorrow. For now, enjoy. Or whatever.

[archduchessofnowhere]

The tropification of Elisabeth of Austria and the perils of historical dramas without history: A review of Die Kaiserin season 1

Back in 2022 Netflix long awaited (by me at least) new historical drama about Empress Elisabeth of Austria premiered. And to my great disappointment, the series had little to nothing to do with history. Now, two years later, we are on the eve of the premiere of the series’ second season. Since I’d forgotten most of the story, I decided to do a rewatch of season 1, despite my deep dislike of it back in the day. I usually don’t do this, I truly believe that (unless you’re a paid reviewer and it’s your literal job) the only reason for watching a series should be that you like it. If it wasn’t because of my completionist drive to finish every piece of media relating to Elisabeth and analyze the hell out of it, I would’ve dropped it two episodes in. But I promised a review in 2022, and I still feel bad for not finishing writing it then. So at last, here is my review of Die Kaiserin.

Revisiting Die Kaiserin was an interesting experience, if just as frustrating as my first watch was. The character assassination of literally every real person depicted in this series is still infuriating, the costumes and hairstyles are dreadful, and the portrayal of the few historical events is so bad it makes any person with some knowledge of the time period roll their eyes and wish the series had gotten canceled in pre-production. And yet, looking at it from the outside, trying to watch it as if I were an spectator who doesn’t know nor cares about the time period and only wants to kill time with Netflix’s shine new period drama series, Die Kaiserin reveals itself exactly for what it is: a mediocre soap opera set in a half-assed court setting. Upon this rewatch I realized that the biggest crime of this series isn’t that it’s inaccurate, but how boringly predictable it truly is. It’s not that the characters are nothing like their historical counterparts, it’s that they are not characters at all. They are stereotypes, walking tropes crashed against each other like dolls in the hands of a child. And the entire plot of this series is built around serving these tropes.

Although we are not given a clear year at any point on-screen, the story begins in 1853 as it always does when it comes to Sisi media: with a young and rebellious Elisabeth learning that her elder sister Helene is going to be the emperor of Austria’s future bride. The first episode proceeds to re-imagine the fated encounter of the Duchesses in Bavaria with Franz Josef and his family, finishing with the climatic moment in which the emperor reveals that he will marry the younger Elisabeth instead of her sister, shocking everyone present (in fiction, for in real life the entire family realized right away that he had fallen in love with his cousin at first sight).

So far, the typical beginning of every piece of media about young Elisabeth under the sun. But then the series makes the bizarre choice of setting the entire season in an atemporal space in which nothing of note happens. The episodes usually take place during a brief period of time (from a couple of hours to a single day at most), yet it is uncertain how much time passes between them: days? months? Who even knows. The timeline is fuzzy, bending to the whims of the script.

You now may wonder: why does that matter? Plenty of good series don’t have clear timelines. And I agree, there are indeed good series which don’t need a clear timeline. I just don’t believe historical series about real people whose lives are well documented are one of them. Why am I tuning in the history based series and finding no history at all? Why can’t I even guess in which month are we supposed to be in?

In the later years there has been a boom of period dramas which are historical satires, historical fantasies and/or alternative history. These series take history and throw it out of the window for the sake of their plot (whether it’s romance or comedy or both). And I don’t hate them, in fact I thoroughly enjoyed plenty of them. But Die Kaiserin doesn’t belong to this genre. Die Kaiserin is supposed to be a serious historical drama. I still remember that before the series premiered the screenwriters talked about how they wanted to follow the steps of The Crown. Yet the quality of the script is far more reminiscent of the alternative history teen drama Reign. If Reign thought it was The Crown.

What is the point of taking these real people, ignoring the entire context in which they lived, and throwing them into completely fictional settings, while still claiming you’re adapting their lives? If Die Kaiserin had owned what it was, if it had not pretended to be a serious historical drama, I don’t think I would’ve been as upset as I was when the series was released. 

I realize this is a personal frustration since I know and care for the real history, and that someone who doesn’t probably didn’t notice the dozens of inaccuracies that plague this series. That’s okay. But I can’t help but feeling a deep disappointment in the fact that I’m not the target audience of a series about one of my favorite women from history. Which also makes me wonder: if not us, the people with a genuine interest in history, then who is the audience for this series?

I don’t have an answer. Not only “the general public” is as vague as it gets, time and time again “the general public” has shown they can and will love historical dramas more grounded in fact. I wholly disagree on this notion that you must “dumb down” history in order to make it more palatable. Again, audiences have shown they can enjoy complex writing - a memo I wish the screenwriters of Die Kaiserin had received. 

Because even putting the inaccuracies aside, I ultimately just don’t think the writing of this series is good. Going back to the beginning of the review, upon my rewatch I realized something: this series is almost entirely made up of well defined but poorly developed tropes. This series feels written as if it was one of those viral Tiktok books whose entire plot is just a list of popular tropes. “Love triangle with a villain”, “fierce FMC”, “betrayal”, “falls first/falls harder”; and I could go on. Any complexity is simplified in order to create an easy to watch story, every character is made into a one-dimensional caricature. It is also ironic that, despite the screenwriters’ clear attempts to distance their series from every previous portrayal of the empress - to the point of having Elisabeth disdain her nickname “Sisi”, which is never be used after the first episode - they fall into almost every already existing stereotype on Sisi media anyways. Elisabeth as a humble country girl deemed the “troublemaker” of the family? Check. Sophie as an evil mother-in-law who manipulates her son and daughter-in-law? Check. The empress reconciling the discontent masses of the empire with her kindness alone? Check check check. 

I highly doubt I’ll ever watch this season again. I simply do not like it, and I know it may not seem like it given how much I’ve been talking about this series lately, but I don’t enjoy being a hater. It’s just that I’ve been following this series since the project was first announced years ago, and I’m still mad about how much it missed the mark. Will there ever be an Elisabeth - or just 19th century Habsburg/Wittelsbach - historical series with actual history in it? As of now, sadly, it still feels like an impossible dream.

[nikolas-ghostbusters-fixation]

Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is how everyone thought Egon had gone insane. What Happened that made them think that. They've fought a gigantic Stay Puft Marshmellow Man TWICE (counting the 2009 video game because iirc it's canon? Correct me if I'm wrong), fought an interdimensional god, fought a blood thirsty ruler that killed thousands and was hated by all that was trapped in a painting (and managed to get in to beat him by making THE STATUE OF LIBERTY start walking down the street with slime that reacted purely based on vibes), found an underground abandoned transit system full of the moodslime, had a bathtub try to eat Dana and her baby, fought a giant murderous black widow lady, fought the fisherman ghost who turned an entire hotel floor into the bottom of a ocean, and that's not even mentioning them getting trapped on an island that randomly raised up from underwater that had been abandoned for decades created by Ivor Shandor who worshipped Gozer. So what did he do or say that made everyone else think he'd gone insane?? All I can think is maybe he was acting strange / eratic before, but he's always been like that to some degree.

I don't know. It's something that I've been thinking about. The correct answer is 'it's not that deep and they needed a reason that the others weren't together anymore and weren't aware of Egons death or know what was going on,' but also. What Was He Saying that prompted everyone, including Ray, to think he lost his mind when he'd been right almost every time before that.

I'm genuinely so curious as to what he was up to before this. What was he doing. What insane idea was working on prior to this or was he even working on anything at all??

Also want to clarify this post isn't negative 😭 I really love the newer movies and their lore / the newer storyline / characters, I just like thinking about small stupid things like this. Gives me something to think about / speculate about / figure out an answer to.

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[blitheringbongus]

Can't believe Scar saw a rapidly approaching, dishevled mumbo and went "he's so cute." I need to run unorthodox experiments on them.

IKR SAME OMG

They’re literally perfect for each other <- delusional

But seriously they have so much lore together in my silly brain and the few interactions they do have (WHICH HAS BEEN INCREASING A LOT LATELY MAY I ADD) has been FUELING the fire rapidly and gods gods GODS do I have many thoughts about them

[foxmulderautism]

looking myself in the mirror like am I really about to completely reshuffle the lover boy timeline just so i can get the single release of i want your sex in there and write beau’s live reaction

[allisonreader]

I have a feeling that I’m going to need the sprints to actually finish my story/neaten it up, because I certainly don’t feel like just going and working on it by myself.

[buckyalpine]

40's baby Bucky & baby Reader, Present Bucky x Reader, all the flufff, a lil angst but it just adds to the fluff, promise

Bucky sat under the tree with a very prominent pout on his chubby face, his arms crossed against his chest with his brows pulled together. He wasn't happy. Not one bit. Not after his favorite ball was kicked over a fence by the other neighborhood boys.

"Bucky, do you want to play with me?" You toddled over to your best friend hoping to lift his spirits after seeing him so grumpy only to be met with a huff.

"No! Go play with Stevie instead. Leave me alone!" He frowned, brushing you off and turning his back at you to sulk facing the tree instead.

"But-

"I don't want to play with you" Bucky grumbled. Your bottom lip wobbled, dropping your shoulders as you walked off and sat by yourself under some shade on your porch. You didn't have many friends being the youngest and only little girl on your street; Bucky and Steve being the only two who included you in their games.

"Bucky's mean" You picked up one of your dolls, setting her up beside you while you toyed with a wild flowers, doing your best to keep from sniffling after he shooed you away. You knew he was upset but you wanted to make him feel better!

Of course it didn't take long for Bucky to feel bad, peeking over to see your fallen face sitting all alone on the steps of your house, eyes wet with tears which you were desperately blinking back. He got a bad feeling in his little pudgy belly, knowing he wasn't very nice to you. He knew his ma wouldn't be very happy if she heard how he'd spoken to you, especially after you were just trying to brighten his mood. He got up from his place on the grass, nicking a few flowers from his garden before shuffling over to you only to be met with your now grumpy face, crossing your arms and turning away just like he did.

"I'm sorry y/n" Bucky came and plopped beside you, moving the doll away, while clutching onto a few pink tulips. You didn't respond, still mad at him for being mean to you when you'd done nothing wrong. "C'mon jellybean, pwease?"

His baby blues were shining bright as he gave you his best puppy eyes, hoping you'd forgive him. You felt a giddy at the name he called you, one he'd given you because he thought you were sweet like one. You turned to face him while he gave you a shy little smile, placing the flowers onto your lap.

"I brought you flowers" He stated proudly, happy at the giggle you let out, setting them aside before tugging at his hand to run off and play.

-

"Y'promise you'll come back?" your eyes were wet with tears again although you were now 20 years older and the chubby boy you grew up with had grown into a very handsome soldier. He stood before you in his clean and pressed uniform, his face shaven, hair neatly cropped.

"Of course doll" He whispered affectionately, letting his thumbs swipe across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that fell. "I'll always come back to you jellybean"

"You better" You sniffled, standing on your toes to chase more of his lips as he pressed them to yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, picking you up with ease.

"M'gonna come right back to you, safe n'sound" He held you for as long as he could, rocking you close to his chest while you fought back a sob, giving him a brave smile instead.

"I love you Jamie"

"I love you jellybean"

That was the last time you saw him.

-

"This is a bad idea"

"When have I ever had a bad idea" Tony scoffed, continuing to tinker with his quantum portal while Bruce looked over numbers.

"It's not stable enough Tony, if we send someone through this, they could get stuck in an alternate timeline or we could end up changing the future-

"Yea, yea, stop worrying, hand me that spanner"

Bruce sighed, handing over the tool while contemplating on the safest way to test the machine. It wasn't ready to handle anyone actually travelling through time but at the very least they could potentially open portals to the past.

"We gotta put in a location to see if this works-how about-" Tony contemplated on a location, his eyes growing wide with excitement when he spotted Steve's diary that he'd left behind in the lab, "Let's see if Captain has any interesting places from the 40's"

"Why wouldn't you just see if we could get to the compound garden" Bruce groaned while Tony flipped through the pages, typing in an address that had been scribbled in. It was from a list of places Steve wanted to visit again from when he was a child, the address of the person listed under friends. There was only one other person listed there other than Bucky.

"Alright, call the others, let's see if this baby works"

"You're going to get us all killed" Bruce shook his head while calling for everyone to come to the lab. By now everyone was used to Tony's antics; the only one who was genuinely giddy with excitement was surprisingly Bucky. One thing he'd always loved was science; even his stoic expression couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye every time he got to see another Stark experiment.

"Glad you all made it. Now, thanks to Cap, we're going to see if we can open a portal that travels back to the 1940's. I suggest you all stand back since I haven't actually tested this before"

"Why are you like this" Nat snorted while Tony waved her off, pushing a few more buttons before hitting start. Bucky watched from the safe sidelines of the lab as the machine began to vibrate, a low buzz growing louder until a portal roared to life that lead to the inside of someone's home. Bucky and Steve were both stunned from shock seeing a flash of a very familiar living room for no longer than a second before the whole thing closed with a bang and a large puff of smoke in its place.

"Well done Mr. Playboy billionaire dumbass" Sam wheezed while the team was left coughing, the room cloudy as the loud buzz began to dull. "What was the location you even put in-

Sam stopped talking midway when he heard another voice coughing followed by mumbling coming from the place where the portal closed. The smoke hadn't yet dissipated but the shadow of a person was slowly becoming visible. Everyone froze when they realized there was someone on the platform, wondering who could've been sucked through.

"Bruce, turn on the fan-" Bruce hit the lab fan which pulled helped with the smoke revealing a young woman in a flower printed dress. An apron was still tied around her waist, flour streaked across her cheeks, a rolling pin still in her hand. "What the-

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES"

Bucky thought he was going to collapse as soon as he saw who was on the platform, his heart fluttering madly in his chest. He couldn't control the blush that crept up on his cheeks, butterflies bursting in his tummy, just as they did all those years ago. The young woman stormed up to the soldier, face full of fury as her palm smacked his cheek (Not hard enough to actually hurt him of course).

"HOW DARE YOU"

Everyone else in the lab silently congregated to one side watching curiously though Steve was still utterly frozen seeing-

"Y-y/n? Doll?"

"Don't you doll me" you whacked his arm with your rolling pin, huffing when it clanged back after hitting metal. That didn't seem to faze you as you switched and hit the other arm instead, making Bucky yelp. "You lied!"

You dropped your makeshift weapon to the floor, moving your hands to your hips instead, looking up and down at the man you loved with your entire heart, the man who you mourned for years after you were told he was dead. He looked much different from when you'd last seen him, the most obvious difference being an entirely new arm. His cheeks were scruffy and it was clear some form of time travel had taken place but none of that mattered. None of that mattered when the love of your life was standing right there, alive and well.

"Oh baby, no-

"Absolutely not Barnes" you huffed at the pet name he gave you, crossing your arms over your chest and Bucky thought he'd melt into an absolute puddle at the sight. He was thrown back to when you were both no more than 4 years old, with a cute little frown on your face whenever you'd get upset. "You left! I thought you-I thought you died!"

The sound of your voice cracking broke Bucky's heart, his hands itching to wrap you up and pull you close to his chest the way you loved. He could see your eyes twinkle with tears threatening to spill out while you rapidly tried to blink them away. You chewed on your bottom lip to keep from wobbling and it only made Bucky yearn to hold you and never let go.

"Sweetheart please, I didn't mean to leave you doll, I promise" He stepped closer to you, hesitantly reaching out to take your hand in his, not feeling the slightest bit conscious about his metal arm. The coolness of his hand calmed your racing heart while you sniffled, still refusing to meet his eyes as you stared down at your feet instead.

The day you'd been told he'd never come back had been the worst day of your life. You wept for months on end, losing the man you were waiting to marry. The only person you'd been in love with since you were 4 years old.

Seeing you standing there before him stirred feelings in Bucky h never thought he'd feel again. Having a home. A beautiful wife. Little chubby babies. All with his dream girl he'd loved all his life. There wasn't a day that had gone by where he didn't think about her. He didn't think he'd ever get the chance again but here you were, dusted in flour like you always were whenever you were in the kitchen, in a pretty dress he loved so much, fighting your cries after desperately missing him. He softly cupped your cheeks, swiping away at your tears, his forehead coming down to softly rest against yours. He smiled through watery eyes at your stubborn nature, still keeping your arms crossed while his nose bumped with yours.

"Jellybean" Bucky whispered, your heart melting at the name, swallowing the lump in your throat, "Please? I-I'll- I'll bring you flowers" He said with a shaky voice, nearly toppling over when you flung yourself into his arms. He caught you, squeezing you right back and lifting you off the floor to cradle you nice and tight before pulling back to smash his lips against yours. The collective sniffles and whistles from the team were drowned out by your soft giggles and warm lips.

"I missed you so much" you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the one that comforted yo the most.

"You have no idea how much I missed you jellybean, never letting you go again"

"Terminator, you wanna introduce us?" Tony was the first to speak up, not so subtly wiping away at his eyes while Bucky continued to look at you with heard eyes, introducing you to everyone. You could only wrap your head around so much at a time but nothing truly mattered now that you were back with your soldier.

And of course your other best friend.

"Steve" You giggled as Steve lifted you up with ease into a tight hug, grinning at his two friends finally getting the life they deserved together.

Seriously imagine how sickeningly cute these two would be. Bucky is so excited to teach you all about the future. He gets to show you how to use all the new technology around the compound. He's so naughty about it too, teasingly telling you he'd be happy to help you in the shower if there's any questions you has about water temperature.

He doesn't waste any time with asking to marry you. Its everything you've ever dreamed of and more considering Tony took the bill and ran. Bucky can't put into words how happy he is finally getting the life he thought was ripped from his hands.

On your wedding night, Bucky spends hours loving on you like there's no tomorrow which is why a few months later, your belly is swollen with your first baby. Bucky is thankful for the future because as excited as he is to start a family, he's scared shitless something could happen to his jellybean.

"Bucky, I'm fine-

"Absolutely not, why are you up Jellybean, go sit down, I'll bring breakfast to you"

"I can still walk y'know-

"Nope. You stay right there, don't move mama, just rest"

When you do have to move around, he's there holding your baby bump, feeling giddy over becoming a dad. He can't wait to meet his little baby that he's made with his dream girl.

After his son is born, he waits for your body to heal but no ones surprised to see you with a new bump not too long after.

Two baby boys are no match for all the avengers but they all happily share their god father and god mother duties.

Your third is a little girl and she's going to be spoiled by everyone.

Somewhere along the way, you get a white fluffy cat.

Bucky's life has never been better.

[foone]

AAA games? Pfft. Indie games? Double pfft.

I only play games from the alternate history where Hillary Clinton was elected in 2008 and banned all video games. You can only imagine how weird their underground gaming scene is. People like to call unlicensed games "bootlegs" but they've got actual bootlegged games! I've played games about helping your grandmother in hospice care realize she's a lesbian by reading Sappho to her, at 2am in a speakeasy in Baltimore. The cops raided it the next night, hundreds of Gamers were arrested. They posted pictures all over Friendster of the Baltimore PD destroying the arcades with axes.

I nearly got busted once because I was imaging old disks from a 386 and someone tipped off the gaming cops that there was a copy of Commander Keen in there. I had to prove that I didn't know it, I was imaging the disks blind and then indexing them later, and I would of course turn over any contraband to the proper authorities.

I was already on a watch list because I'd been known to have some gamedev-related activities pre-ban. They can't arrest me for making games back in 2007 when it was still legal, but they do want to keep an eye on me since I have the skills to break the law.

Anyway that universe's bootlegs are mainly PC games. Can't really have console games if there hasn't been a console release since the Wii/PS3/360 era. At one point Nintendo threatened to release the Wii SDK so game devs in the US could make unlicensed games, but that didn't happen as there were quickly no functional Wiis left in the US, except for very rare holdouts that never move. PC games are easy to distribute samizdat and hide on a USB stick or CD-R labeled "nickelback".

Japan's games industry is still going, so the later Nintendo and Sony consoles still exist, but Microsoft got out of the business of course. They sold the franchise to Sega who were hoping to release the 360 successor (the Xbox One in our universe) as the Sega Phoenix but it never materialized, either through their own financial incompetence or because of pressure from the US. There's a lot of international treaties that the US has pushed "and this aid only goes through if you ban games" clauses into. That would have been an official UN resolution if the USSR hadn't vetoed it. For once, thank God for the security council, eh?

I mainly get my gaming news through Japanese gaming sites (through a set of VPNs, since they're blocked at the border firewall), and some tor onion site run by a weird guy in Minnesota who is obsessed with documenting all the underground US games.

There's a lot being worked on, but it's always a tricky trade off. Too much attention and the police might be able to track down the creators, and it's basically impossible to fund underground games, as the VISA/PayPal etc funds get seized immediately. There's a whole task force for that.

Anyway one of the weirdest differences between our two time lines is that they've gone back and edited out gaming from a bunch of movies. Those that they can, of course. War games was just banned because they couldn't remove the tic tac toe ending. The Net just removed the scene at the beginning where she's playing Wolfenstein 3D, by recording some new screen footage and a new voice over. She's fixing a spreadsheet in the new edition.

(Yes, I've seen The Net from this alternate timeline. On Laserdisc, of course. I'm just that kind of person!)

They even edited Star Wars. You know that scene where R2-D2 is playing holochess with Chewie? They edited it to be a board game instead of holograms, because that made it too "video gamey".

Technically it's not illegal to show gaming in a movie, but it needs to be an 18+ film and you have to show the deleterious effects of gaming and/or the gamesters coming to a bad end.

This has affected films less than you'd think, to be honest. They were never great about showing video games even before they banned them.

Anyway, go have fun playing your AAA games with hundred-million-dollar budgets. I only play indie games made by people under a constant threat of arrest for their art.

[bunnys-kisses]

hi! could I please order blueberry bars and a tres leches, with iced tea and pina colada for the drinks! that'll be for carlos sainz

thank you!

bakery menu

welcome to the bakery? may i take your order? there are many things available at the bakery so please submit an order! as for this anon thank you for such a love series of prompts, i hope you love it!

blueberry bars (“gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”) + tres leches ("i wonder if your brother know i cum in you.") + ice tea (accidentally launching relationship) + pina colada (pregnancy)

cw: smut/pwp, norris!reader, unprotected sex, accidentally launching relationship, pregnancy, pregnant sex, missionary

carlos liked to live fast. he was the smooth operator. but, sometimes it was nice to go slow. especially with you, especially now. this was the first time he had seen you since you told him were in pregnant an hour before he was set to race.

“gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” was a promise made in a moment of passion, but it actually came true.

you and carlos sainz jr were having a baby. but no one knew you were dating, especially not your brother, lando norris. the same brother who terrorized any boy you tried to date in high school. now he was going to be an eventual in-law of carlos.

but as he visited you in your hotel room for the weekend, neither of you were thinking about it. carlos wanted you and you wanted carlos.

you weren't that pregnant yet. the belly was quite small and could be covered with a baggy sweater to cover up. but you knew eventually you'd have to come clean about it. especially your relationship with carlos.

but you were far too worried about your brother. you knew he was protective of you, especially around the paddock. no one was going to touch his sister. and yet, you ended up in bed with carlos.

and now you were back in bed with him once more. he had come to visit his beloved and wished to have some intimate time with you before the next race. and especially now he was becoming a father, he had to be right to you. a strong kind of man that you could be proud of.

you two were in your hotel room together, cuddled in bed together. your leg draped over his hips with his hand on your slightly curved middle. he wanted to feel his child inside of you as the pair of you kissed together with such love and tenderness.

"i've missed you." he said softly, his lips onto your neck. his hand still on your stomach, "and i missed you." he looked down at your middle, "mama's been keeping you a secret." he chuckled before he looked at you with those big brown eyes.

you hide your face a little bit, "oh, c'mon." you still couldn't believe that carlos really stepped up. he wanted to be a good father for the child you two were going to have, "you're such a sweet talker! that's how i got into this mess in the first place!"

he laughed and kissed you on the lips. he rubbed his bare legs up against yours. his kisses deepened, you moaned against his lips and felt a shiver down his spine. he couldn't help himself around you. no, no, you were just too perfect to not fuck. he'd be an idiot if he let something like you pass him by.

he admired your beauty as he put you onto your back. he planted hands on either side of you and eyed you with such wanted. you looked beautiful, did you know what? honestly you looked more beautiful now that you were pregnant with his child. you were carrying his child. that was amazing! while it wasn't the timeline he hoped for, he could promise to love the both of you.

he placed one hand on your middle for a moment before he went in for another hot kiss. your body laid out under him. the kiss was sweet, you could taste his dinner on his lips as he kissed you deeply.

he carefully slipped his cock into you, which made your back arch a little bit from the hot need. you tried to cover your face, but his words cut through, "show me your face my love, i wish to see you."

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pull you close to him. he was careful about placing all of his weight onto you. he didn't want to crush his beautiful girlfriend and your baby.

you kept your legs bent on the bed and he was slotted between them. the pace he kept was steady, not hard enough to bruise you. just enough that he cough watch your large breasts bounce in his field of vision.

"you are only going to get more beautiful." he admitted, "soon round with my baby. you, me and our baby together as a little family. the best a norris-sainz team anyone could have."

you giggled a little, "right, right. our little baby." you pulled him in for a tight kiss as you held onto him tightly. missionary was considered a boring position, but you didn't mind it. to admire your handsome boyfriend above you. feeling the pleasure in your body as he rocked against you.

you licked you lips as he moved against you. it felt so good being in his arms. to be so close to him as he moved against you. heaven felt real and it was fucking carlos sainz jr.

he rested a hand on your stomach once more, "you gave me such a special gift." he continued to move up against you. he could feel the heat in his soul.

"please tell me we're not naming them carlos sainz the third." you giggled with heat in your face, "i don't want him to get bullied."

"what names do you suggest, my love?" he asked as he continued to move against you.

you giggled then joked, "lando." then shrugged before carlos took your hands and pinned you to the bed. his kisses were on you once more and you moaned against his touch.

"no. anything but that." he chuckled as he moved against you once more. he could feel the heat in his gut start to really bloom the more he moved against you.

you were just simply so beautiful that to feel so intimate with you felt like something of a dream. and to have a child with you was only more dreamlike. you'd be his wife.

his pace started to stagger and his breathing became heavier. oh, you felt like a dream. you held onto his hands tightly as he moved against you. his lips found yours once more as you kissed deeply. your heartbeat was in your ears as he thrusted against you.

oh, you were perfect.

you soon came around his cock with a loud moan and your arms around his shoulders once more. he rutted against you, he moved your hips against his. you tensed up around him as he battered your poor pussy until you were seeing stars and when you relaxed. carlos only kept his eyes on you as he moved against you.

he could imagine you with a much larger belly. caring for his child just as he'd care for the both of you. you were a family, even if your brother a possessive sibling. carlos would be your husband and his kisses against your skin only promised that in silence.

"please, carlos." you said out of breath.

"i know, my love." he said softly. he gave his hips a few more moves against you before he held onto your hands tightly and finished inside of you with a heavy groan.

you whimpered against him and arched your back a little bit at the feeling of him. he then peppered your face with kisses and quiet 'i love you's as he slowed to a stop and got one last look at you under him.

"my beautiful woman." he said before he kissed you on the lips once more. the most gentle kiss of the entire night. you giggled a little bit as you felt the after lingers of pleasure.

when he pulled out, you both cuddled on the bed. you chatted quietly about the child in your womb. carlos' large hand on your middle like it was going to grow overnight.

"i got a sonogram, it isn't much. but i was wondering if you wanted to see it. it's really cool." you beamed at the other man and he simply smiled at you. you felt very hot after your intimate time together.

"please. i want to see it." he said. the idea of seeing even a blurry half image of his child excited him. proof that you were carrying them.

"i'll send you the photo! it's all on my phone!" you said as you watched carlos rub your marginally swollen middle. your little secret with him. you took your phone off the nightstand and wasn't paying much attention to

what you noticed was what you sent two photos. first it was the sonogram photo. the only you meant to send to carlos. but the second one was a side profile of you in your mirror with your baggy shirt pulled up and showing off the slightest bump. but while that didn't make your heart stop. it was who you sent it to.

your brother, lando.

then the notifications started. and you looked to carlos who looked even more shocked. especially when he read one of the messages from your brother, "i'm going to kill carlos sainz." <3

[forzalando]

take my hand

another 3k celebration blurb! this time, best friends to lovers with lando for my dear friend lee @scuderiahoney 💛 i hope you all love this one, it's an apology for unrequited love!lando lol no heartbreak this time, folks!!! i'm being nice!!!! set at the 2024 spanish gp but definitely some inaccuracies with the post race timeline and also please pretend max fewtrell was there pairing: lando norris x fem best friend!reader word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a blurb wtf is wrong with me) summary: it can be so easy to fall in love with your best friend, and it can also be incredibly hard to imagine a world where they love you back. in this world, you're one of the lucky ones. tw: short but steamy makeout scene, mild cursing

Loving Lando Norris was so astonishingly easy. It came as naturally as breathing for you and has for over half of your life.

You met so many years ago but it still feels like yesterday that he reached out to you and said, “take my hand”, pulling you gently off the ground while the other children laughed at your clumsiness. He told you that they laughed at him too – he was short, shorter than you even at that age, and he struggled to read and write. You vowed that day to always pick each other up when you fell or faltered, always stand by each other’s side even when everyone else was laughing, and although it was a promise made between two children, neither of you had ever broken it.

Smiling at the memory, you were off in your own little world – thinking about the days when he would pick you “flowers” at recess (you didn’t have the heart to tell him they were weeds) and you would always share half of your cookie at lunch.

A voice pulled you from your trance, making you jump slightly at the sudden interruption.

“What are you thinking about? Or should I say who are you thinking about with that dopey smile on your face?”

You turned to face Max Fewtrell, a staple in both yours and Lando’s lives for just as long as you’d known each other.

“I was just thinking about where we’ll go for a celebratory dinner after the race. I’ve been craving gourmet pasta and a fruity cocktail.”

“Right, and my name is Willy Wonka. You don’t have to tell me the truth, it’s fine! Just thought I’d let you know he’s looking for you, he wants you in the garage for the race.”

Your heart swelled – even though Lando asked you to be there for every race you could attend, it never failed to make you giddy. You nodded your head at Max, he smirked back at you, and you walked as quickly as possible to the McLaren garage without calling attention to yourself.

As soon as you stepped into the garage, you ran straight into Oscar and the force almost knocked you to the floor.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” he groaned. “Lando’s insufferable, asking where you are every five minutes.”

“Where is he? In his driver’s room?”

“Yeah, that’s where I last saw him headed,” Oscar yelled over his shoulder, walking towards his car. “Go work your magic on him!”

You rolled your eyes as you walked the familiar route to Lando’s driver’s room, your heart rate picking up a bit the closer you got to it. As soon as you were in front of the door, you knocked once and paused, then twice in quick succession, and once more after another brief pause – the secret knock you’d been using for years to let each other know you were there.

The door swung open almost immediately after your last knock and a frantic Lando yanked you inside. He flopped down on the couch behind him and covered his face with his hands – even though you couldn��t see his face, you knew he had a frown and furrowed brow.

“Thank god you’re here now, I’ve been going insane. I need you to tell me that I’m going to win this race – now that I’ve won once, it’s fucking brutal being so close yet so far. Canada was a nightmare and today I’m starting on pole. They’ll eat me alive if I don’t convert it into a win and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

You sat next to him and gently peeled his hands from his face, glassy green eyes, flushed cheeks, and, just as you predicted, a frown and furrowed brow.

“I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, Lando,” you started to say until he interrupted you with a groan, pushing your hands away.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, but what I can tell you is that no matter what, I’m proud of you. Max is proud of you. Your family is proud of you. Your fans are proud of you. So many people love you and see what you’re capable of – winning a race, not winning a race, it doesn’t define you. You’re the hardest worker I know, you’re kind, you are the most wonderful friend. I’ll celebrate you even if you come plum last pushing a burning, front wing-less car across the line and so will everyone else who knows and loves you.”

By the time you’d finished rambling, Lando’s shoulders had visibly relaxed and he was smiling. Not the goofy smile with his teeth on full display but a smile was a smile, you would take what you could get.

“Thank you for always being there for me. I can’t promise I won’t be pissed if I lose today but at least I feel better now, thanks to you.”

You punched his arm lightly, jokingly, and rolled your eyes. “We made a promise, didn’t we? I’ll always be there for you, always there to pick you up, even if your inability to see how wonderful you are makes me want to scream.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfect, you love me, I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you, your days are miserable without me, tell me something I don’t know,” he jested, nudging your shoulder before standing and holding out his hand to help you up.

“In your dreams, Norris,” you scoffed. “Make sure that big head of yours still fits in your helmet before you get in the car.”

He laughed loudly as he led you out of his driver’s room, finally smiling the goofy smile you loved so dearly. The moment was short-lived – someone from his team called his name and he hugged you briefly before jogging towards them, yelling over his shoulder that he wanted you waiting for him in Parc Ferme after the race.

You shouted your agreement, hoping and praying he hadn’t noticed the rapid beating of your heart or how warm your cheeks were when he pulled you into that brief embrace. Although he had said it all to rile you up, you truly did think the world of him. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to you. In your eyes, he was as perfect as a person could be, and oh, did you love him. You loved him far more than a friend should and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep that to yourself.

As Lando pulled his car in front of the P2 sign, you felt the familiar burning of guilt running through your veins.

Maybe you should have told him he would win. Insisted on it, actually. You should have been adamant that he would rise to the occasion and to the top step of the podium once again.

He wouldn’t want to see you, you were quite sure of that, and despite your promise to be waiting for him with his team, you tried to sneak away unnoticed. You’d slowly made it far back enough to be swallowed by the sea of people until an arm blocked you from getting any further.

You looked up to see Lando’s race engineer with a disapproving look on his face and instantly felt like your father had just caught you trying to sneak out after curfew.

“He wants you here and he’s going to need you here,” Will shouted over the noise of the crowd.

“I think I’m the last person he wants to see right now, I wouldn’t promise him that he would win. I basically jinxed his whole race trying to keep him from being so hard on himself. What if he thinks I don’t believe in him?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Will snorted. “Now please get back up there quickly so you’re the first person he sees when he gets out of that car.”

With the help of Will, you were pushed gently back to the front just in time to see Lando haul himself out of his McLaren. His body language was obvious – disappointment, sorrow, embarrassment, and your heart ached as you listened to the roaring cheers from the Red Bull team as Max launched himself into their arms.

You knew Lando would be running every possible scenario through his mind – what if he had gotten a better start, what if he’d managed tires just a bit better, what if George hadn’t been able to sail through at the start and he hadn’t had to back off of fighting Max. All of those thoughts a natural, valid response, but if he voiced any of them out loud he’d get torn to pieces by both journalists and fans of other drivers.

When he peeled his balaclava from his face your stomach twisted and you silently begged him to look your way – for him to find a face in the crowd that was so unwaveringly proud of him through everything, but he kept his eyes trained anywhere but you or his team.

Finally, you saw his eyes flicker to you, and he walked briskly toward where you and the few members of his team were waiting. Wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms and exhaled so deeply it felt as if he’d been holding his breath since the end of the race.

“You drove beautifully,” you whispered, combing your fingers through the sweat-dampened curls on his head. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Lando’s arms immediately loosened around you and his head was turned away from you, he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look you in the eye.

“We’ll talk later, I have to go do my interview,” he mumbled. “Wait for me in my driver’s room, okay?”

You nodded your head even though he was already walking away from you, shoulders slumped and jaw clenched. Honestly, you weren’t sure what hurt worse – the fact that you could physically see his disappointment or that he didn’t say he loved you back.

It felt like hours before you heard an all too familiar knock on the door to Lando’s room – the door gently swinging open to reveal the tired face and frame of your best friend. He must have showered in Oscar’s room before coming to find you – the smell of champagne nowhere to be found yet his curls stuck slightly to his forehead. The sight was endearing, and it took everything in you to not pull him into you and bury yourself against his chest.

“You didn’t have to knock, it’s your room,” you spoke softly, adjusting your position on the couch.

“Force of habit, I guess.” The corner of his lip turned up when he answered you – a good sign, a sign that maybe he wasn’t angry with you at all about your earlier conversation.

Although it was Lando who asked to talk, you couldn’t help yourself from blurting out an apology as soon as he took a seat next to you.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” you pleaded. “I should’ve said something different, I should’ve just said what you wanted me to say. I meant all of it, every word, but you asked me to reassure you in a specific way and I didn’t.”

Lando blinked a few times as he stared at you, his mouth falling open in shock? Amusement? You couldn’t tell, but at least he didn’t appear to be mad.

“Do you think I’m angry with you?”

“Well, yes,” you mumbled. “I probably jinxed your race.”

“Jinxed it? If anything, you’re the reason I finished second. I kept thinking about what you told me instead of focusing on how I screwed up – it kept my head in the race.”

“But, but,” you stammered, “you didn’t say you loved me back. In Parc Ferme, when you were hugging me. You always say it back, I thought you were furious with me.”

“Would I have walked over only to hug you if I was furious with you?”

You felt a little embarrassed at your panic – “I suppose not, you probably would’ve stayed as far away from me as possible.”

“Exactly, you silly muppet,” he teased, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “I didn’t say it back because I realized that it means something different for both of us and I, believe it or not, got scared.”

Your eyes widened and you felt like you were going to be sick. He knew. You shouldn’t have been surprised, everyone had figured it out – his pit crew, Will, Zak, Oscar, Oscar’s girlfriend the literal first time you met her, all of your friends and family, even drivers on different teams had made comments to you in passing over the years.

“Lando, I,” you tried to get ahead of it, ahead of the rejection and the awkwardness, but he cut you off with a raised hand and a pleading look.

“Please, just let me get this out or I never will,” he begged. “I think I’ve always known, or at least everyone around me has just always told me that it’s painfully obvious, but I didn’t fully realize it until earlier today. You care about me so much, more than anyone, and I’m almost positive I could be the lousiest driver, lawyer, engineer, teacher, architect, whatever, and you’d still always be proud of me. You’d be there for me regardless with a giant smile on your face, an “I love you”, and a hug that would heal any self-doubt or negative thoughts. You mean everything to me and I don’t know what I would do without you but – ”

You waited with bated breath, your leg bouncing uncontrollably and heart hammering in your chest. Waiting for the “but I don’t feel the same”, “but I see you as a friend”, for the inevitable heartbreak.

“But I can’t keep my feelings a secret anymore, even if it might ruin everything, but I have to believe it won’t because we can get through anything together. I love you, Y/N, more than anyone in this world, more than a friend, more than I ever thought it would be possible to love someone. I’m saying it back now, hoping that you feel the same because it’ll be incredibly awkward if you don’t, but that’s what I had to tell you first. I love you. I think I always have.”

It felt like the earth had stopped moving, time frozen and only you and Lando existed in this moment, only you existed in the entire universe. Your thoughts raced with what to say back – something romantic? Should you just jump into his arms and kiss him senseless like you’d dreamed about for years? Unfortunately, you landed on something far less eloquent.

“You what?” Your shout echoed in his driver’s room, if anyone was within a ten-foot radius they surely would have heard you.

“Well, I guess that’s not the worst reaction,” Lando pondered, looking away from you bashfully. “Nora Powell stomped on my foot when I told her I liked her. Do you remember that? I think it was Year 10?”

You did remember – it was quite a horrendous memory for you, actually, as that’s the year you realized you had a crush on your best friend.

“Oh, I was so jealous of her,” you blurted. “I cornered her at lunch the next day and told her she was the luckiest girl in the world and a certified idiot for turning you down.”

His head snapped back to look at you, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You smiled at Lando, tentatively cupping his cheek. “I suppose I’m the luckiest girl in the world now, to love and be loved by the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

“Oh no,” he insisted, “I promise you, I’m the lucky one.”

He kissed you once gently, tentatively, his lips barely brushing yours before he pulled you into his lap and slid his hands to rest on your neck, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. In an instant, he was kissing you breathless, licking into your mouth as you whined and pressed yourself against him.

One roll of your hips had him panting, a hand leaving your face to slide under your shirt, leaving a trail of fire until he stopped and squeezed just under your breast. You were dizzy with desire and full of so much love for the man underneath you – he was intoxicating, you never wanted to stop kissing him, you never wanted to know the feeling of his hands not wandering your body.

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to disconnect his lips from yours even though it pained you to do so.

“I love you so much,” you muttered, a tear escaping from your eye. “I never thought – ”, you couldn’t even get the words out, choosing to bury your head into Lando’s neck as he gently rubbed your back.

“I know,” he whispered, lifting your head to kiss you senseless once again.

The two of you were so wrapped up in one another that neither of you heard a knock at the door or the turning of the knob. You did, however, hear the blood-curdling scream.

“Oh my god, my eyes,” Max groaned, slapping a hand over his face while he dramatically dry-heaved. “Get a room, you deviants!”

“Mate, we are literally in a room!” Lando shouted back, lifting you gently off his lap before he leapt to his feet and pushed Max backward. “We will see you back at the hotel.”

“Great, I’ll be bleaching my eyes out when you get there. For the record, I’ve always wanted this to happen, but I never wanted to see it.”

“Well, that’s your own fault,” you scolded. “Next time wait for a response before barging in somewhere.”

“Oh, believe me,” he stressed, “I’ll never be walking into any room you two are in ever again. Not even if there’s another fire and I’m the only one who can warn you to get out.”

“The dramatics are unnecessary but you do need to leave,” Lando insisted, pointing out the door.

“Yes, absolutely, but before I go, who confessed first?”

“Lando did,” you said proudly. “I’m just irresistible, I guess.” Lando winked back at you, which you took to be an agreement.

“Damn it, I owe Piastri, Sainz, and Verstappen $100 each,” Max groaned. “Like they need my money. See you two lovebirds later!”

He shut the door so quickly that neither you nor Lando had time to react to the fact that your friends had been betting on you. It took a few rounds of looking back and forth at each other and then the closed door before you burst into giggles and fell back into the couch, clinging onto each other. You laughed a bit too hard, your hands leaving Lando to clutch at your ribs. Almost instantly, you felt yourself sliding off your seat, your bum hitting the floor with a thud.

You looked up to see Lando with his arm outstretched, a cheesy smile on his face as he repeated the same words he said to you so many years ago.

“Take my hand.”

And just like you did that fateful day, you grabbed on, let him pull you up, and fell in love all over again. 

----------------------

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @anaviieiraaa @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile

if you would like to be added to my taglist please refer to this post!

[em1989ts]

𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

five hargreeves x reader

word count: 1.7k

part one. part two. part three.

summary: after discovering your husband cheated on you with his brother's wife, you run off to a different timeline using the subway, only to find a deli crowded with a familiar face.

author's note: this is my first fic that i'm actually posting lol, if anyone sees this i'll be totally shocked

“Just leave me alone, Five.”

You were speed walking down the steps into what looked like an abandoned subway, desperately trying to avoid the man you thought you knew, who was currently right on your tail.

“Not until you talk to me, y/n,” he pleaded, swiftly trying to catch up. 

“There’s nothing to discuss, Five,” you said in a cold manner. 

You just couldn’t speak to him. Not after what just happened in the living room with him and Diego. After what was just brought to light. 

You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 

Why would you hear him out? Why would he believe he had a right to explain himself? How could he? A marriage of over half a century, down the drain. And for what? 

Seven years with her.

Lila. 

His brother’s wife. The mother of his brother’s children. The child of the couple he assassinated. 

It made no sense. 

You angrily sped up and quickly got onto the train that was stopped at the station. It’s white light making you more stressed than you already were. 

The doors shut in his face. Just a couple more seconds and he would’ve been on this train. You would’ve been stuck having to hear him try and save face until the next stop. 

Sometimes the universe lets you win. 

But why not this time. 

You stared at him through the window of the subway car doors. He looked at you pleadingly. You looked at him disappointedly. 

Who was he, because he sure as hell wasn’t the Five you had known since you were thirteen years old. Stuck in the apocalypse with nothing but ashes and him.

 You had thought it was fate. You and him were meant to be stuck together, meant to be there for each other. Even after everything that’s happened. Apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse. 

The subway started to move. You stayed standing, staring at him with daggers in your eyes until he was out of sight. He didn’t chase after the car, he knew it was pointless. He knew he’d never get you back. He didn’t deserve you. 

Once the outside of the train was completely dark and all you could see was your own reflection in the window, you turned and took a seat. Hands in your lap, looked straight ahead, drained. 

What were you supposed to do now? Where would you go? 

Maybe this train would take you to a universe with a Five that could never dream of betraying you the way your own did. 

The lights shone over you as you were deep in thought. You had no idea where this train would take you, when it would take you. 

Suddenly, the car slowed to a gradual stop and the doors opened. You wanted to stay on, maybe pass by hundreds of stops until you actually got off the train but you heard footsteps passing by the station. 

Something in the back of your mind told you to get off at this stop, that you would find something important. 

You stood and slipped through the doors. As soon as you turned your head to scan your surroundings, that’s when you saw him. 

How could he have gotten here before you? 

Five was casually walking towards a set of stairs when he saw you and stopped in his tracks. 

You glared and felt a flame arise in you as you stomped over to him. 

“I told you to leave me alone, Five. What the hell are you doing here?” you pointed an angry, accusatory finger in his face but he just grabbed your hand and gently held it in his. 

You were confused, he seemed different. Less guilty. More sentimental. 

Your anger faltered as he stared into your eyes with an admiration you were already starting to miss. 

“y/n,” he said sincerely, “it’s been so long.” 

Of course he wasn’t your Five. You had just jumped onto a multi-dimensional subway for Christ’s sake. 

“Come on, follow me,” he said as guided you towards a stairwell. 

As you descended and turned a corner, warm glowing lights filled your sight. A warming, comforting sense of nostalgia flooded your senses. You looked up and read the lights on the sign, Max’s Delicatessen, as the Five you stumbled across led you inside. The sound of a familiar vintage tune filled your ears. 

Immediately, you felt all eyes travel to your frame. Every single pupil in this room belonged to a Five. The man you never wanted to see again. Each one of them looked at you with a shocked and astounded expression.

 The Five still holding your hand paid no attention and directed you into a booth seat. 

As you sat down, you took in your surroundings. The Fives behind the counter preparing food, the Fives taking orders, the Five delivering food, the Fives whispering at tables. 

There were so many of them, what was this place?

The Five sitting across from you looks in your eyes with a knowing look.

“It’s not often we get one of you around here.” 

You shake out of your confused thoughts and reply, “And what exactly is this place?” 

Before you can get a reply, a waiter Five comes up to the table and places two mugs of coffee in front of you and Five. Before he leaves, he places a couple cups of creamer and packets of sugar next to your mug. 

Without answering your question, the Five in front of you smiles and says, “We keep those in the kitchen and not on the tables since it’s really rare to see you.” 

You give him an annoyed look. 

“Can you explain to me what’s going on?” 

“Right,” he sat up a little straighter and took a sip of his coffee. “You hopped on a subway that took you to an alternate timeline. That timeline just so happens to hold a place where us Fives come after we’ve stopped trying to fix the problem.” He largely gestured to the room full of alternate versions of your husband. Ex husband. 

You stared at him for a few seconds, your brain rattled with questions, before you spoke. 

“Stopped trying? You mean trying to save the world?” 

“Stopped trying to fix the broken timeline,” he replied matter-of-factly. 

“The broken timeline?” you repeated in confusion. 

“There’s only supposed to be one, and I’ll bet you can guess who shattered the original timeline.” 

Before you could reply, you heard a bell as another Five yelled out, “We did.” 

Five made a disapproving yet knowing face as he called back, “Why you always gotta wreck shit, Brisket Five?” 

Brisket Five shrugged at him then winked at you before returning back to his work. 

“Okay . .” you started, trying to come up with the right questions, “So, our existence is the cause of the broken timeline. Is that why there’s constantly an apocalypse?” 

“Precisely,” Five responds, before gesturing to the framed pictures on the wall. “By the way, check out the artwork. All the different ways we made our universe go kaboom.” 

You stare at the photographs on the wall, noticing both familiar doomsday and entirely unique ones. Once your eyes reach a certain point along the wall you notice some framed images of you. Different photos of you and Five, living your lives together throughout the timelines. 

The Five across from you notices your curious glimpse. 

“I mentioned we don’t often see you around here,” he explains. “It’s because it’s rare that you survive your timeline.” 

You quickly turned back to him in response to his statement. You don’t survive? How many of the Fives in this room have lost their y/n? Has the Five in front of you lost his? 

“What do you mean?” 

“You and I will always meet, in every timeline throughout the universe. It just seems that fate doesn’t always take our side,” he says solemnly as he looks down at his mug. 

A Five piped up from the booth behind you, “My y/n was killed by the Swedes back in Dallas.” 

Another from a couple tables away said, “Mine died in the apocalypse, but we had a good thirty years together.” 

The Five in front of you looked up at you and said, “In my timeline, the Handler shot you and you died in my arms. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” 

He gave you such a genuine look. Like he’s felt shame and guilt for so long, his apology was heartbreaking. How could these Fives care so much about you, while your Five forgot all about you. 

“It’s okay,” you looked at him truthfully and took his hand in your, “I’m sure none of your y/ns would ever blame you for their fate, but they would for giving up. They’d want you to keep going, stay strong and do what it takes to save your family and the world. That’s what they loved most about you.” 

You felt bad placing blame on him but you didn’t understand how the man who has spent his whole life prioritizing the safety of his family and overcoming countless obstacles and stopping at nothing to save his family could just give up. Sure it was tiring, but that was the life the two of you lived, together. 

He smiled at you so lovingly it crumbled your heart. 

“Y/n, the doomsdays will never stop coming. The only way to end this constant cycle of saving and destroying the world is if our family ceases to exist.” 

Your heart slowed its beating as you stared at your interlocked hands, contemplating. 

You hated to admit it but he made sense. Whenever your family is all together, everything goes to shit. People always die and the world will always end. 

Before you could respond, you heard the door swing open and a tense tone fell over the deli. 

The Five across from you held your hands a bit tighter as he glanced up at the Five that had rushed in.

Your Five. 

☕︎

part two. part three.

[avelera]

thesis about the sea peoples you say? may i request an infodump about the sea peoples?

Heya!

So, basically in college (undergraduate) I got really obsessed with the questions around the Collapse of the Aegean Bronze Age, mostly because I wanted to set my big Magnum Opus historical fiction novel in that time, and the deeper I dug into the rabbit hole the more it appeared that no one, absolutely no one, actually knows why the civilizations around the Mediterranean all fell from a state of pretty sophisticated internationally-trading civilizations to literal Dark Ages (all except for Egypt which was substantially weakened and never really recovered), all at once around 1200-1100 BCE.

The Sea Peoples are the names of the only contemporary (Egyptian) account we have that names who might have been responsible if this collapse was due to an invasion. It's a popular theory because a viking-style invasion is a much sexier reason for a civilization to collapse so we all gather around it like moths to flame. But the thing is, there's a lot of contradictory evidence for and against and shading that hypothesis.

Suffice to say, literally no actually knows what happened and almost every answer comes up, "Some combination of these things, probably?"

But what makes the Collapse even more interesting from a modern perspective is that if there was a historical Trojan War (and I think there was) as fictionalized in the Iliad and the Odyssey (and Song of Achilles, for the Tumbrlistas), then it would have taken place within a generation of the entire civilization that launched the Trojan War crumbling to dust.

So like, if you're Telemachus, your dad Odysseus fights in the Trojan War, some even manage to get home, and then like... everything goes to shit. Catastrophically. And doesn't recover for 400 years.

Seriously, they lost the written word, like how to actually write things down and read them and it took 400 years to get it back. That's how fucked shit got during the Collapse of the Bronze Age.

So my thesis was asking: what if these two things were related? What if the Trojan War either led to the Collapse or it was part of the Collapse or it was a result of the Collapse? Because the timeline is so unknown and muddled that it really could be any of those and again, that's if the Trojan War isn't entirely fictional (which I don't think it is, but many academics disagree, it used to be a whole thing up until Schliemann dug it up, and many doubted it was ever a historical event even after that.)

Ok, so at the risk of writing 75 pages on this again, let me just say:

My conclusion (more of a hypothesis proposal ultimately since there are so many gaps in our knowledge) was that the Trojan War took place before the Collapse of the Bronze Age. But, it might have been launched in response to a wider breakdown in trades routes and resources, causing the Greeks to launch the campaign basically as a bid to replenish their own coffers because they were getting squeezed by what they didn't know was the first rumblings of a global domino effect.

Therefore, since taking out Troy didn't solve those larger trends and forces, they all went home and then got slammed by the REAL problem, which was all the people who had been displaced from further away by this rolling drought or invasion or whatever that was disrupting these delicate international trade routes.

But the Greeks might have been part of the Sea Peoples too! Our only record of the Sea Peoples is from the Egyptians in a highly propagandistic text which makes them sound like this big fearsome foe but that might have been because saying, "We slaughtered a bunch of desperate refugees at our border who were looking for shelter," didn't sound as cool. If the Greeks (or Achaeans or Ahhiyawa) got swept up in this slow-rolling collapse/displacement of people, then they absolutely could have been among those refugees who crashed against the shores of Egypt.

A lot of my evidence was based on looking at how Troy was sacked (it was stripped literally down the nails and there was a lot of evidence of a long-term siege, like what we read about in the Iliad) vs. how Mycenae (Agamemnon's city) or Pylos (King Nestor's city) was sacked, where they were burned and stuff was stolen but they weren't stripped, it looks more like a standard looting hit-and-run type thing. Which led me to believe that it was different turmoil that rocked Mycenae and Pylos than what led to the sacking of Troy, despite the fact these things happened within about 20 years of each other. (Helen being a made-up reason for a resource-driven war would only be the oldest trick in the book, as far as propaganda goes, after all.)

But really, the craziest detail I'll leave you with is: we just don't know! And then it gets weirder. Because the Hittites fell at the same time so the Hittites scholars say, "Nah, the Sea Peoples weren't Hittites, they were probably Greeks." And the GREEK scholars say, "It wasn't us, it was probably the Hittites or someone else. " and the EGYPTIAN scholars say, "Yeah it was someone north of Egypt, maybe the Hittites or the Greeks." and the LEVANT scholars say, "It wasn't from the Levant, we know what was going on there, it has to be from somewhere else."

Literally every single possible source of the Sea Peoples has the scholars who specialize in that location saying it's not them and it must be the guy next door.

It's maddening!

And then there's a big ol' gap around Bulgaria and the Black Sea because, oh yeah, the Soviet Union forbade archaeology in those areas to quash any local pride so those places that were behind the Iron Curtain are decades behind on scholarship that would allow them to say, "Oh hey, it was actually us! Yeah, the invaders came from Bulgaria and got pushed down by a famine." or something to that effect.

We also have some histories from the time saying that the Sons of Heracles returned not long after the Trojan War to lay Greece to waste! And it's really evocative and sounds like it fits what we've got of all these burned cities that happened right after Troy fell! Except that's in doubt now too!

The latest theory is that it was climate change that led to a massive drought. You can read about it in the latest and most popular book on the subject, 1177 BCE which I highly recommend because if it had existed when I wrote my thesis, I wouldn't have had to write it.

But I disagree with the conclusion! Or rather, I'm skeptical. Because very decade, the problems of the day have been hypothesized as being the cause of the Collapse. Like, in the 60s, there was a theory that maybe it was internal strife around a labor strike, like the French Revolution. And y'know when there's a world war, they think it's an invasion. And there was a theory that it was 'cuz of an earthquake (I think that one is nonsense, Mediterranean civilizations famously bounce back quickly from earthquakes.) And now that climate change is on our mind, I'm a little weary to see that it's the new theory because it feels way too much like we're just projecting our problems onto this giant question mark.

Was climate an aspect! I think so! I think it might have contributed to the break down in trade routes that made everyone in the Mediterranean really stressed out and hostile and warlike and led to a lot of displacement. I'm not sure if it's the only reason though and I think the book just kinda reiterates everyone else saying, "I think it was this but in the end, we just don't know, and it was probably a lot of things." which we've known for ages so it's just repeating all the same conclusions. *sigh*

... Like I said, I wrote my thesis on this so yeah, I could go on for a while lol.

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[megwritesriddles]

Out of Town ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 18 - First Time. Spencer is sent to a small town police station to get some information, but doesn't expect to meet such a beautiful officer whom he connects with so easily.

Tags: Loss of virginity, Virgin!Reader, P in V, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Handjob, First meetings, Getting together, Fluff, Awkwardness, Factual inaccuracies, Autistic!Spencer, SoftDom!Spencer (ish), Briefly referenced violence, Set around season 2-3.

Word count: 5.7k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: It's FINALLY here!! Virgin!Reader because of this poll!! I struggled with this one so much and I don't know why, it took forever to write and it's so long and I'm not even sure I like it that much, I will come back for Spencer after kinktober and redeem myself!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Spencer didn’t believe in fate, but he believed that something close to it had brought him to that small-town police station. At first, he had complained vehemently about being sent alone to the next county over while on a case. The team were investigating an UnSub targeting very small towns, and communication between these tiny police departments was virtually non-existent. It was Spencer’s job to see if any missing persons cases in nearby counties would match the description of a recently discovered unidentifiable Jane Doe. He tried to argue, saying it was unwise to send him, the worst socialiser of the bunch, to try and negotiate information from the usually very territorial small-town cops. Unwillingness to cooperate was still rife in the culture and each department wanted to be the ones to solve the case, so information sharing was limited. However, his complaints fell on deaf ears and he was sent away, he would have never guessed how happy this would end up making him.

The first few county police departments he pops by offer nothing, no missing person cases (at least matching the necessary descriptions or timeline) and grizzled FBI-wary old cops who glared at him and commented on his ‘funny’ behaviour. Spencer’s confidence was a little shot as the day progressed. He sets off for the final department he’d be visiting that day, talking on the carphone with Morgan to find out how things were going with the rest of the investigation. He pulls up outside of a small rustic building, the smallest he’d seen all day, his only visual confirmation that he was in the right place being the rickety old sign off of which various letters were dangling. He hadn’t realised places like this even still existed, or that information-sharing programs weren’t implemented nationwide. He would have to read into that more when he got the time. The light outside his car is a deep blue as the sun prepares to set, he gets out and locks up before stepping inside. The place is absolutely tiny, with a small jail cell in the corner of the room like in a cartoon and a small desk behind which were two filing cabinets, presumably holding all the files that this place had. This whole day had been one big culture shock. The biggest surprise, however, is you, behind the desk smiling warmly. You’re young and beautiful and not immediately distrusting when he presents his FBI badge to you. All day he’s been dealing with hardened older men, so you’re a much-appreciated surprise.

“Dr Spencer Reid, FBI,” he introduces himself with an awkward tight-lipped smile. You give him your name too, referring to yourself as an officer.

“It’s not every day we get an FBI agent visiting,” you chuckle. “In fact, I would bet it has never happened before,” He smiles slightly at your observation, not doubting it, remembering seeing the population sign when driving into town. Population: 342. If an FBI agent had been here before, he would have been shocked. Perhaps because of all this, you immediately guess what he’s here for, turning to grab a file from the filing cabinet. The drawer is barely full and you find what you’re looking for instantly. Must be nice, he thinks, thinking about the cabinets back at the bullpen. You hand him a missing persons file, a young woman, missing a month ago. “It’s only our fifth missing persons case since 1900, caused an awful stir in our town, I figure it’s what you’re here for, nothing much else going on,”

“Yeah, this looks exactly like what I’m here for, thank you,” he smiles, flipping through the file. The timeline fits with the estimated time of death, and she matches the height of the body found. “May I use your copier?” he asks. You chuckle.

“Good luck,” you point him to a very old-looking machine. He cringes a little but supposes he has little other choice. He fiddles around with the machine, encountering various unexplainable errors. You come up behind him and give the machine a firm slap and it whirs to life again.

“Thanks,” he smiles awkwardly. You just nod.

“No problem,” he sets the machine to print a few copies and then sits down on a nearby chair while the ancient machine starts working. “You’ll be here a while, want a coffee?” you offer sweetly. He huffs a small laugh, fiddling with the strap of his satchel.

“Yeah… uh… lots of sugar…” he says awkwardly.

“How much is a lot?” you ask, approaching the old coffee machine. Everything in this place is old, he supposes not much budget must be extended out here to such a small uneventful place.

“Just when you think you’ve added way too much, add one more,” he mumbles, pleasantly surprised when you laugh, he laughs too. He takes in his surroundings as you make the coffee. “Do you work here alone?” he enquires.

“I have one co-worker, he does most of the patrols and stuff,” you explain while scooping spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. “It’s slightly more exciting than working here, but I suppose I get some excitement tonight, FBI agent visiting,” you smile at him over your shoulder. You’re really beautiful, Spencer thinks as he nods along to what you say, so beautiful it doesn’t quite seem possible, and he’s constantly surrounded by beautiful people. Or so he’s told anyway, most of his colleagues are very conventionally attractive, but he is more floored by you than he has ever been by one of them. He takes the coffee as you hand it to him and tastes it, pleasantly surprised by the amount of sugar. The whir of the copier continues as you sit down beside him, smiling sweetly. “You seem young for an agent,” you comment, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You seem young for an officer in a place like this,” he counters. “I’ve been visiting stations all day and only been dealing with old guys,” he jokes, once again happy when you laugh. 

“Yeah, I suppose I am, but this is my hometown, a position here opened up right after I finished college and I applied,” you shrug. “I doubt anyone else applied, so they had to take me, but I was by far the most qualified person to have ever applied here, do you know I’m the first member of this department to have ever gone to college?” you tell him with surprising eagerness. He finds it very endearing.

“I’m the first in my department with three Ph.D.s,” he smiles awkwardly. 

“Three? Wow! That’s amazing! How old are you exactly?” you tilt your head at him. He goes on to explain his story to you, his early graduations, his IQ, all of it. You seem much more interested than most people and he appreciates it greatly. The two of you talk back and forth while the copy machine slowly does its work and he finds himself liking you a lot. Of course, he had immediately noticed your looks, but he had tried not to think about it, wanting to be professional, yet after talking to you for a while, he found he had a great deal in common with you. Or, at least, he found your interests interesting, as you did his. So, by the time the copying is done and he’s gathering up the papers, he makes a decision. 

He’s never been the most confident with women, far from it in fact, but lately, he’s been feeling a little more secure. His brief stint with Lila Archer, while a little regrettable with hindsight, had left him feeling better about himself and his romantic prospects. He’d done a little exploring after realising that he and Lila really had nothing in common to base a relationship on, and was now no longer so inexperienced with women, though he still had a lot of trouble with finding someone he was compatible with for more than just something physical. He had difficulties that made a relationship with him hard, and while he had never intended for any one-night stands, most girls had backed out after spending a little longer with him. They’d been polite about it, explaining that they didn’t have the faculties to support him through struggles with his career, with his autism, with his mother and he understood, but it still hurt. He was determined not to let it put him off though, not wanting to squander his newfound confidence. He liked you. He’d mentioned his autism to you in passing when discussing being bullied as a child (why had he even told you about that? It seemed like he’d just let everything out), and you had said he hadn’t deserved that. It didn’t mean you would be able to handle him in a relationship, but it was one step closer to possible acceptance. You’d been smiling and laughing with him all evening, giving him these sweet looks and he was no expert in this field, but it seemed like you liked him. He couldn’t not do something about this attraction, he would never forgive himself if he’d had a chance and not taken it.

He leaves his name and number along with the words ‘I would love to see you again’, written neatly on a piece of paper from his notepad, on your desk, right by your bag where he hopes you will see it. He’s fidgety when he says goodbye to you, anxious that this may be the last time he ever sees you. He hopes not. He even hugs you goodbye, which he would usually hate, but for once it feels nice and comforting. You smell perfect, like warm spices, and he holds you way too tight for a friendly goodbye hug, but you say nothing about it. He prays that you will find his number and contact him, even if just to shoot him down so he doesn’t have to wonder forever. He drives back to the hotel that the team is staying in with his head spinning. He really, really liked you, and he wasn’t sure how these feelings had grown so strong so quickly, he wasn’t usually like this.

That night, while reading in his hotel bed, his phone rings. He doesn’t recognise the number, and though his line of work has taught him to be wary of unknown callers, the chance that it’s you overrides this worry and he picks up quickly. It is you. He can’t help but grin with delight as he hears your sweet voice.

“Spencer?” you question softly.

“Hey,” he laughs excitedly. “You called,” you laugh too, surprised by how overjoyed he sounds.

“Yeah, I figured I should since it could be a while until you go through your satchel,”

“My satchel?” he chuckles in confusion, leaning over the edge of the bed to root through his bag. There, on a pink sticky note, is your number and a cute little smiley face. You gave him your number too, you wanted to stay in touch too. He’s over the moon right now. He traces his fingertips over the little smiley face. “You’re too cute,” he mumbles. You blush on the other end and laugh him off. “How was your… uh… drive home?” he asks. He’s never been good at starting conversations, usually best at taking them over and finishing them, but for once, he wants to know the mundane things about someone, as well as the deep and intellectual, he wants to hear you talk. He’s glad when you start to talk about your day, going on a few tangents about this and that. He does the same, feeling so incomparably comfortable with you like he’s known you forever, like he can just talk without worrying about coming off weird or annoying. He can only hope the feeling isn’t only in his head and he isn’t actually annoying you. He doesn’t seem to be, as the conversation occasionally turns rather flirty, and he finds it much easier to flirt with you than anyone else he’s ever tried it with. The way you flirt, sweet and coy, drives him crazy. You talk until way too late at night, given the time Spencer has to wake up for work, but he can barely bring himself to hang up on you, even when the both of you are yawning incessantly. He’s never felt this way about anyone. People always say, when you know, you know, and he’s always thought that was ridiculous but now… he knows. 

“Look, I’m supposed to be at the station in four hours, I really need to get to sleep,” you yawn. Spencer sighs, disappointed but understanding.

“Okay, but… maybe we could see each other again while I’m still in the area? You could come to my hotel tomorr– I mean tonight I guess,” he chuckles tiredly. “Drinks on me, or no drinks… that’s good too,” the question is followed by complete silence, and initially, Spencer is sure you must have fallen asleep, but then he hears you shuffling and realises you must be awake. He frowns. Why aren’t you answering him? You’d spent hours on the phone with him just now, you must like him at least a little bit, right? Could he have read this that disastrously wrong? If you didn’t want to, you could have lied and said you were busy. What gives? He repeats your name into the receiver, prompting softly. 

“I’m a virgin, Spencer,” you reply quietly, biting your lip. You feel embarrassed and ashamed to be admitting this, especially so early, but you figure there would be certain expectations if you came to his hotel, ones you couldn’t really fulfil, or at least not in the way he probably wanted.

“What?” Spencer squeaks, confused by your words for a multitude of reasons and unsure why you’re saying them now. You worry you’ve scared him off now.

“I grew up in a really small town, there’s like two guys close to my age in the whole place… and in college… I was a huge nerd, just focused on my studies… and now I’m back in that town… it just… hasn’t happened for me,” you sigh, fiddling with the hem of your pyjama shirt. There’s another pause, Spencer swallowing audibly.

“That’s totally cool! Really! I didn’t mean to imply that we’d be... uh… I mean… not that I don’t want to, I’d hardly be opposed to us… um… but I’m not going to– I was a virgin until last year too!” he stumbles nervously over his words, cursing himself for his awkwardness. He rubs a hand over his forehead and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t invite you here for that, we can do whatever you like, at whatever pace you like, don’t feel pressured into anything,”

“I just made this completely awkward, didn’t I?” you laugh self-deprecatingly. He smiles slightly.

“No, no, please I… I know what guys are like, you weren’t unreasonable to assume my intentions but… I just want to see you again, whatever we do,” he assures softly, relieved he hasn’t messed this up. 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll come visit you after my shift is over, text me the address,”

The two of you finally hang up after a nervous goodbye, and Spencer immediately sends you the address of the hotel before he can forget about it, not that he could if he tried, even without the eidetic memory. He’s tired enough that he falls straight asleep afterwards, using what little sleep he has to dream of you.

The workday goes by in a trance. The Jane Doe is identified as the missing girl from your town. Despite this, the case is no closer to getting solved. Selfishly, he is glad of this, as it means he’s likely to stay near you a little longer. He brushes away that thought, immediately ashamed of himself. He tries his best to push you from his mind to focus on his work, but you invade it in the quiet moments. He’s never been so excited to spend time with someone in his life. He thinks occasionally about your confession. A virgin. He’s partly shocked, you’re so beautiful, sweet and intelligent, however, your explanation had made sense. He understood the focus on your studies, while most people took college as an opportunity to have fun, you’d dedicated yourself entirely to your academia. He imagined though, that if you had decided to experiment, you would have had no trouble finding willing partners. By the end of the day, he is in such a rush to get back to the hotel that it rouses the team's suspicions. They don’t know about you though, so they can’t guess the truth. They figure he’s just aching for his own space like he sometimes is after stressful workdays, needing a dark quiet room to regulate himself in. He disappears into his room without any goodbyes, having received a text from you that you’re on your way. He spritzes himself with some fresh cologne, brushing his hair and making sure he’s dressed nicely, but not too formally, so he looks approachable.

He sprints down to the lobby to meet you, relieved none of his team is hanging around the bar to see the two of you. He does not want you to meet Morgan so early on. He embraces you, a little awkwardly, relishing that sweet but spicy scent that you have around you. You’ve taken the time to change out of your police uniform and into more casual, but still very enchanting clothes. He wishes he’d have had time to change too. You look absolutely gorgeous, but he’s not sure if he should tell you as such yet.

“A drink? On me, alcoholic, non-alcoholic, whatever you prefer! I’m personally not a drinker, but I don’t mind if you do,” he rambles, smiling excitedly down at you. You follow him to the bar, ordering a mocktail from the bartender. Spencer orders himself the same one, paying for them both. The two of you are quiet as you wait, both nervous. Spencer smiles dopily as you let him keep a hand on your back, the warm pressure calming you in some way. The bartender brings you your drinks and you take yours with a soft thank you, then the two of you go silent again.

“Are we going to your room?” you ask quietly. Spencer blushes a little at the thought but reminds himself that he’s not expecting anything out of this other than your presence. He nods, gently guiding you by the hand on your back to the elevators. The two of you are quiet in the elevator as it goes up, save for the occasional sip. You reach his floor and then the door to his room. He presents his keycard and the door swings open, revealing a modest but clean hotel room. You take a seat on the edge of his bed, and he takes a seat on the armchair nearby. You’re both quiet again. “We’re both nervous, aren’t we?” you chuckle. He laughs too, nodding, finding it sweet that you’re nervous too, being used to always being the nervous one. “Come on, we weren’t this quiet last night, tell me more about Vegas,” you prompt, hoping to rid yourself of this oppressive silence that makes your mind wander over his tall frame, his sweet eyes and the way his hand had felt on your back. 

He starts slowly, not initially sure what to tell you about, but gradually talks more comfortably as you ask questions. After a little while, the two of you fall into easy conversation once more. He finds you intelligent and well-rounded, even if you’re not as well-studied as he is, you effortlessly keep up with his discussion. You explain that you have lots of time to read in the police station as barely anything ever happens that demands your attention. He finds your willingness to learn on a variety of different topics incredibly attractive and whenever you’re able to tell him a fact that he doesn’t know, he just wants you all the more. Once he’s finished his drink (a fruity sweet drink he quite liked), he comes to sit beside you. He doesn’t necessarily mean anything by it but quickly realises that you think he does. You go pink and start to stutter, looking down at the ground. He swallows. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t– I just wanted to–” 

“Are we going to have sex?” you cut him off, looking up at him nervously. He feels trapped, not knowing what the right answer to this is. 

“We… don’t have to,” he replies, not wanting to imply disinterest but also not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Would you? I mean… it’s not off-putting that I’m a virgin at my age?” you ask, looking down again and swinging your feet slightly. 

“No! No! Trust me, it’s completely fine, I was a virgin until last year, I completely get it,” he assures, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Really? The handsome FBI man, a virgin?” you tease, nudging him. He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“No need to flatter me… and no matter what I look like, my… uh…” he hesitates to bring it up again in case you missed it the first time and it’ll scare you off. “My autism makes stuff like that hard, very hard, so… I can hardly judge you,” he watches your face for a reaction, but you just nod in understanding. He’s so relieved that he could kiss you. He looks at you for a moment and then decides to do just that. He leans in slowly, so you have time to push him away if the thought of kissing him disgusts you, and presses his lips to yours. He kisses you softly for a moment, sliding his hand around your waist and tugging you a little closer. Your hands settle onto his shoulders, your head tilting to press a little closer to him. He smiles into the kiss and you smile too.

He keeps it gentle and slow, carefully manoeuvring you sideways onto his lap so he doesn’t have to lean his neck down so much to kiss you. He rests his hand just above your knee, keeping you held in place, his other hand on your back. Your hands on his shoulders slide softly around his neck, now embracing him to keep him close and comfortable. His thumb rubs back and forth on your back, his hand splayed out, keeping you pressed close. He likes this, you’re gentle, you smell good and the weight of you is comforting in his lap. He shuffles back clumsily, holding you close and upright until his back is against the headboard. He continues to kiss you, his hand smoothing up and down the outside of your thigh. You pull back and he frowns, though his hands don’t stop their gentle caresses. 

“Please, be gentle with me,” you whisper shyly, your pupils wide in the dim light.

“Of course I will be,” he whispers, his hand on your thigh coming up to caress your cheek tenderly, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone. “So… we’re doing this then? You’re letting me…?”

“Yes, it’s about time, right? And… I know we haven’t known each other long but I trust you,” you smile, leaning into his hand. He smiles too.

“When you know, you know,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you exhale. These words speak of something much deeper, feelings that would be crazy to voice so soon after meeting, but feelings that are shared anyway, just covertly. Somehow, even if it’s crazy, you both know. He gently pulls your face back to his, kissing you again, keeping it tender. His hand on your cheek caresses for a little while longer before returning to your thigh, further up now, closer to the tantalising swell of your hip. He rubs slow circles, enjoying the feeling of you, wishing he was touching bare skin. He pulls back, peppering a few kisses across your jaw. 

“May I see you?”

“See me?” you question anxiously. He soothes you by rubbing your back.

“To take off your clothes?” he clarifies. You shiver and suddenly look very shy again. “Hey, I will think you’re beautiful no matter what you look like,” he promises. “You’re so beautiful, it’s plain to see,” you still look nervous and don’t make any moves. “We can’t really do this with clothes on,” he jokes softly, squeezing the plush of your thigh. You smile despite your reservations.

“But you have to get naked too,” you assert, trying not to let your voice shake.

“Of course,” he agrees. He gently moves you off of his lap and sheds his sweater vest, then unbuttons his shirt, not letting his insecurities get to him so that he can reassure you. He’s sure he has much more to worry about than you do, but if he got nervous, it wouldn’t help your nerves. He discards his shirt and sits there shirtless, feeling better when you smile at him. You slowly but surely pull your sweater over your head, leaving you in a plain black bra. Your cheeks are flushed and he finds it incredibly sweet. He places a hand on your bare waist, kissing your shoulder before carefully unhooking your bra for you. You take shaky breaths, clearly nervous as he turns you around to look at you. He is immediately baffled by how you could be so insecure looking the way you do. He smiles down at you. “Very beautiful,” he soothes, kissing your neck gently. “I’d love to worship them, but I think we should speed this up before you overthink it too much,”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, shivering as his hands skim over your bare skin. 

“No, I was a nervous wreck my first time, you’re doing way better than I was,” he promises, and it’s true. He briefly feels bad for the woman he lost his virginity to but pushes the thought away to focus on this much better experience. He tilts your chin, pressing his lips to yours again, kissing you softly. His hands slowly explore your skin, cupping gently. You’re warm and weighty in his hands and he loves the feeling, squeezing softly. You moan into the kiss and he delights in it completely. He gives one last slight squeeze to you before pulling back again. “If you let me, I’ll explore you thoroughly later, I quite like to understand exactly how things work inside and out,” you swallow and nod. He stands, carefully unbuttoning his slacks and sliding them down. Your eyes immediately flick to the bulge in his boxers and he’s momentarily embarrassed until he realises you seem happy to see it. “That’s what your beauty does to me,” he whispers, making you giggle shyly. He smiles, and then slowly, a little apprehensive, he lowers his boxers too. Your eyes are glued to him in interest.

“Can you sit down?” you ask softly. He complies. You lower your jeans, leaving yourself in your underwear for now and he admires the skin of your thighs and the beautiful curve of your hips. You carefully wrap your hand around him and he gasps in surprise. “May I?” you ask, examining him a little as he twitches in your hand.

“Y-yeah, absolutely, go ahead,” he swallows, letting out a throaty groan as you slide your hand up and down in the way you’ve heard about. He seems to like it. You watch his face as you adjust your hold, figuring out what's too loose and what's too tight until you find the perfect grip. He smiles a little at your analytical approach, tilting your chin so he can kiss you while you slowly stroke him. One of his arms wraps around you, the other propping him up. He kisses you intently as you carefully experiment with how to touch him. It’s an odd sensation, holding him in your hand like this, but you find you quite like it. You kiss and caress him for a few minutes, finally falling into a rhythm he clearly enjoys based on the soft noises he’s letting out before he stops you. You pout a little as he moves your hand away by the wrist. “Sorry, but I was getting too close and we haven’t… you know…” he smiles, kissing your jaw again. 

“Right,” you swallow as he starts to guide you back with him again until he’s against the headboard. He traces the sides of your panties softly. 

“Come on, you can take these off, I promise I will like whatever I see,” he assures. You take a deep breath and then shuffle yourself out of your panties. You’re shy, no one has ever seen you like this before. He smiles, gently massaging the flesh of your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap. You shuffle forward, your face red with embarrassment. He kisses your cheeks and carefully slides his hand down your stomach, giving you time to tell him to stop, before slipping his finger between your folds, rubbing softly up and down. He hums, feeling that you’re nice and wet. His fingers make you moan timidly and you close your eyes as his fingers gently explore. His free hand rubs your side soothing as he ever so carefully begins to slip a finger inside you. You moan, your head tipping back as his finger reaches further than your own ever have. “Another place to explore thoroughly later,” he says matter-of-factly as if the thought isn’t incredibly arousing. He spends a few minutes carefully stretching you out, easing in a second finger and pumping them in and out with great care. He watches as you moan and writhe above him and thinks that you look simply irresistible right now, leaning down and placing a few kisses on your stomach until he thinks you’re finally ready. 

He slowly withdraws his fingers, which makes your eyes flutter back open to meet his. He leans up to peck your lips and then guides your hips a little until you’re above him, then positioning his cock against you, making both of you hiss a little. The head of his cock catches your entrance and he takes a deep breath.

“There, you can set the pace, okay? Lower down as slow as you like,” he smiles, free hand still rubbing your side soothingly. You nod, taking a few laboured breaths before slowly starting to lower yourself onto him. You gasp at the stretch, even though it’s not too painful, stopping and starting as you lower yourself. He holds your hips with a feather-light touch, careful not to push you at all, holding himself back from bucking into your tight heat. His eyes are glued to your face as your lips part in pleasure. You fully seat yourself on him and sit there for a while, catching your breath and getting used to the feeling. He twitches inside you and he hopes you don’t mind the feeling as he cannot get it under control. His hands drift up and down your sides. “How is it?”

“Yeah, ah… I feel full…” you whine softly.

“In a good way?”

“In the best way, I’m going to feel empty the rest of my life after this,” you laugh slightly. He laughs too, although the words are oddly moving to him. His thumbs rub your hips.

“Want me to guide the pace?” he asks softly, eyes glued on yours despite his usual aversions.

“Y-yeah, that would be good,” you nod, sighing softly as he begins to carefully lift your hips. You hold his shoulders as he moves you slowly up and down his length. He groans and bites his lip under you, moving you a little faster, making sure to listen out to make sure you’re feeling pleasure from his pace. You feel perfect around him, absolutely blissful, and he hopes beyond hope that you feel the same. He tugs you down to kiss you, holding you still as he starts to buck up into you. Your lips move together messily as he fucks up into you, careful to keep it from being too hard. He rubs your back as he kisses you.

“Do you feel good?”

“So good…” you whimper, trailing off into a string of moans. He loves the sound of you, wishing his eidetic memory worked on sounds so he could remember the way you sound forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible as he fills your body with pleasure, fucking you nice and deep. You whisper fragmented compliments to him as he drives you closer and closer to the edge, holding you close and kissing you desperately. “I’m going to– oh God–,” you moan needily, he groans in response, moving faster. 

“Yeah, come on, I’m with you,” he grunts, squeezing you closer to his body. With a few more deep thrusts, he feels you falling apart around him, making him whimper. He kisses you lovingly as stars explode behind his eyes, his mouth parting with throaty noises as he spills inside you. His chest heaves, his hands sliding up and down your body in a calming gesture as you both come down. He gently lifts you off of him and lies you down beside him on the bed, watching as you wipe the sweat from your brow. He hops up without a word and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you a little nervous and confused. When he reappears, you calm down, realising he’s just holding a damp cloth. He spreads your legs, making you blush despite what you’ve just done and wipes you clean with careful precision. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

“Well, it was my mess after all,” he smiles, taking the cloth back to the bathroom and rinsing it. He joins you back on the bed, staring at you for a moment. “Was that okay? You don’t regret it do you?” 

“Yes, it was good, I don’t regret it,” you assure him, leaning into his as he kisses your cheek.

“Good, neither do I,” he lies beside you, pulling the blanket over the two of you and reaching over to caress your cheek. His thumb skims your lower lip. “Now, get a little rest, I intend to fully acquaint myself with your body in a bit, and I can be very thorough with things that interest me,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo