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landograndprix · 7 months

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「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part iv

✧.* though you're still struggling with yourself and your relationship with lando, life is good or at least, that's what you think.

✧.* I like when reader suffers, like yes babes, cry a bit more 🥰 Toxic friends once again? Uh, yes please 🥰 this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, riabish and 654,897 others

landonorris 🧡

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byelandooo well that's one way to hard launch lmfao

landitosainz great way to ruin a team 💀🤮

cecilemoulin wrong account you gremlin

norrisbae such a lando thing to do 😭

norry4 you're telling me lando's got a private insta too? what y'all hiding for us? 👀

maxfewtrell don't think this was meant to be posted here but where's the credit for the pictures mate?

johnnyp lucky son of a bitch

milouberger muppets 🧡

norrizz no but this is exactly how I imagined this relationship to go, just a bunch of idiots together 😭

carlandooo muppet and his crack head 🥰

mrsnorris 🤮

charlos16 man's really said hard launch

smoothoperatorr this is wrong on so many levels 🤡

carlossainz55 happy for you guys!

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y/nusername posted to their story

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mclaren

liked by landonorris, y/nusername and 187,672 others

mclaren first race of the season is done! 🏁 we can confirm..it was a good weekend!

tagged: landonorris, y/nusername

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teammclaren we are so back baby!

freddiem y/n would've had pole if Milou didn't impend her like crazy

julieeeexo milou was not having y/n this weekend..first the impending, then nearly pushing her off the track during the race..

norrizz nah she was aggressive! We could've had a double podium!

norrislando p2 and p4 baby!!

matty28 the team bringing mclaren back to the front 👏

carlitonorris what's up with milou? Is she jealous because lando's and y/n's relationship seems to work out perfectly and hers and charles' didn't? 💀

chilisainz exactly what I was thinking 🤡

y/nloveee we could've had both of them on the podium but p4 for the babe is amazing too! 🧡

julianklein she's washed up, it's time for her to retire. outperformed by her teammate.

y/nloveee so everyone who's outperformed by their teammate today is washed up? Okay, cool, can't wait to see half the grid retire next week 🤡

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gossipf1

liked by 672 others

gossipf1 we didn't have to wait long for the proof to be posted, these pictures of Carlos and y/n have been circulating the internet since last night. Who shared the pictures is unknown.

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chilisainz considering these are very personal pictures and not random paparazzi shots, I'm willing to bet money on one of their friends leaking them..won't be the first time y/n gets screwed over like that..

carlandooo no because i think you're right 😔

charlessainz no but why are they actually giving?

leclerc_16 but why do they look so cute together? 👀

norrismax I can't be the only one finding this extremely uncomfortable..why would someone leak these pictures..you can't trust anybody anymore..

jamoniconico can't she just leave these drivers alone? 🤨

joeyy000 these men really out here pulling the baddest girl on the grid..

carlito55 see I prefer this duo over whatever lando and y/n is..

verstappencharles yes!!!!

maxmaxmax imagine being lando and seeing this and reading people prefer Carlos over you 😔

brocadesmerc why does she feel the need to date every single driver on the grid? Who's next, Charles? Esteban?

hammertime considering her ex Thomas is spanish too, I'd guess she's got a type and it's not french 😭

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milouberger posted to their story

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @f1lover55

Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @judespoisons @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smau #lando norris fanfic #lando norris au #lando norris x oc #lando norris image #lando norris #lando x reader

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lutawolf · 8 months

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My Personal Weatherman and the D/s element Ep 4

If you haven't read the others, they can be found here.

Ahhh, nothing gets me going like a sub wearing what their Dom picked out. That subtle ownership. Why yes, I do pick out all my husband's clothes except the dreaded work clothes. I refuse to take the blame for those tacky things.

Right off, we can easily see that this is not an M/s situation. The fact that Segasaki is asking Yoh what he wants to do, tells us exactly what we need to know. Yoh is explaining what he is going to do. That is not something a slave would ever even think to do. We can easily tell that he is a subby sub though, cause when Segasaki brings out the Dom, Yoh eases back.

OMG, that chin grab! @bl-bam-beyond pretty please gif that chin grab.

That chin grab with the "No." Ugh, how all my lovely subs doing? Are you still here? Have you been able to finish the show? Or are you stuck here on rewind?

Yoh actually questions Segasaki as to why not. Anybody still thinking Yoh a slave? Cause not to be rude, I can't fix stupid. This boy, a brat. Fuck, this whole scene is really showcasing their dynamic. "But we made a promise." "Tell her that you can't go anymore. Do it. Do you even know why you are in this house." And once again, we're back at the misunderstanding stage.

A fangirl, I see. OMG, this is adorable. Yoh is like, sure. Let's look at the tie of my Dom, bestie.

Yoh calling with Segasaki standing over him. This episode is killing me in the best possible way. Don't revive me! (No! I have not taken my ADHD meds, don't judge me!) "I was ordered to stay home." Hahahaha! Then the ahhhh, after he tells her that he will make it up to her. Letting you know he was likely just punished by Segasaki. Yes, my mind went here.

Then the reward of the head pat, "you did good."

youtube

She showed up to check on him! Woot! Haha, she is about to find out who is boyfriend is. Hahaha. I'm dying. Meanwhile, his boyfriend is like, "guess it's time for a face off." Ya'll I'm not okay. I'm laughing so hard.

And Yoho stepped over a line and got put in his place. But he is too busy having a crisis to care! 🤣🤣🤣 Her face is my favorite.

That effortless lie. He wasn't feeling well. Uh huh. I love these two dumbass friends. I need sake too!!! I'm dying. Shit, I can't breathe through the laughter.

Now it's Yoh's turn to be jealous. Ahh, he got drunk and fell asleep on the floor. The places we find comfortable when we are drunk.

Nope, he doesn't want to go to the bed. I love the outer dialogue we are getting. I really enjoy that we get Yoh's side of things and from his perspective, but this rounds it out a bit for me.

And look at that beautiful smile when Segasaki finds out she's married. "Are you in your rebellious phase." Does this sound familiar to certain people whom I will not mention by name!?! Hmmm! Brats! Stop breaking my heart! Make him stop Segasaki, make him stop!

Fuck, I love these two so much. Everything he is describing is very much a Brat Tamer. Bossy but gentle. Controlling but caring. Charming and unreasonable. Brat Tamer.

The way his squishes Yoh's face! Ahhh, these two are gonna kill me!

"It would be nice if you stayed drunk forever." Because of the honesty. Segasaki likes Yoh's quirks, but he also wants the honesty and the connection.

I need the curry story now! But apparently, I must wait. Heavy sigh.

Hope you guys enjoyed this! Let me know in the tags if you did. 💜💜💜 See you next time.

#my personal weatherman #taikan yoho #segasaki x yoh #luta talks my personal weatherman #luta talks kink #coconuts mafia #Youtube

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seapiglet · 9 months

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I've seen a LOT of shaming going round at the moment, both here and on twitter, of people who are seeking out good omens spoilers, mostly by those who have watched the new episodes in advance. despite what neil and david and michael may have said on the subject, it's rubbing me the wrong way! so I feel the need to make a potentially unpopular post about

✨SPOILERS AND NEURODIVERSITY✨

(and accessibility) 🤚🏼

now I cannot speak for everybody here but as an autistic person with ocd I actually !prefer! being spoiled ahead of time and will frequently read the entire wiki article for a show I'm about to watch (though weirdly CANNOT skip ahead with books?) in order to alleviate anxiety around the unexpected. trust me when I say that knowing what will happen in advance *enhances* the experience for me and I have yet to regret being deliberately spoiled, even when it comes to my absolute favourite things on earth, things I may have been waiting months and months (or in this case years) for. in fact, the longer I've had to wait, the more the feeling of gut-twisting anxiety and uncertainty beds down in my system and makes itself a very unwelcome house guest.

it's all very well insisting that everybody just be patient and ~wait and see~ but for a lot of neurodiverse folks this can be a very unsettling prospect. personally, I don't like surprises! I don't crave the sensation of being shocked by an unforeseen twist! it makes me do a panic! even the thought of it makes me feel deeply uncomfortable.

we're not simply throwing our toys out the pram because we WANT something and we WANT IT NOW (shout out to verruca salt). there is a soothing comfort and stability to predictability that is difficult to explain to somebody who doesn't experience this.

at this point I should mention that OBVIOUSLY not all neurodiverse/autistic/diagnosed-ocd people feel this way but that doesn't negate the fact that a lot of us do and there's not much we can do about it.

I'm aware that everybody's currently moralising about the rightness/wrongness of illicitly distributing and trading nuggets of forbidden information like crack-laced pokemon cards* (surely in this fandom everything should exist in a grey area?) but please don't jump on this as an opportunity to prove who's the most terribly righteous and which of us gets to wear the Super Duper Bestest Fan Neil's Favourite prefect badge for the day. devolving into needless factions and one-upmanship so near to the official airdate does nobody any good.

on another personal note (this is the 👂🏼♿accessibility♿👂🏼bit) I was due to attend one of the screenings and now can't due to the apparent lack of subtitles. pleeeeeaase think of accessibility, amazon. please? some of us have severely messed up ears and/or auditory processing disorders - it's not hurting anybody to have the words up on the screen but it excludes many of us if you don't.

again, if you think it's terrible and wrong to want to be spoiled or to share spoilers you are well within your rights to think that, and of course I encourage anybody who is participating in a bit of blackmarket spoiler dealing to utilise ALL the tags you can think of to keep it secret (keep it safe), or simply leave it to the DMs, but I really don't see the good in shaming others who feel differently.

uhh thank you and good day 🎩

(*hopefully that still scans - my references are as ancient and ephemeral as my knee cartilage)

#good omens #gos2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #good omens 2 #gos2 #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #personal #neurodiversity #ocd #did i put enough tags on this one?#i also have adhd and ptsd btw lmao #and an autoimmune disease which causes cognitive impairment #got allllll the high quality genes up in this bad boy [slaps thigh which immediately dislocates]

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littlest-dark-age · 2 years

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He's so pretty when he goes down on me

Headcannons for eddie with a thembo!partner

Listen to while reading : shiny by lil mariko

tagging @eddiemvnsongf

Warnings : unedited, cream pie, penetrational sex, slight degradation, underwear thief eddie, eddie touching you in public, slight public sex, sexual pictures, cum eating, spit, cockwarming, mentions of love bites, mentions of being fed, mentions of spanking and bruising

Eddie saw you around school, always admiring from afar. Thinking you wouldn't give him the time of day if he were to approach you. Especially with the way everybody else treated you. Which, is as if you're royalty. And you might as well be.

He notices how you seem to drift between the "groups", always offering your sweet smile to anybody even if the people you're with roll their eyes at it. How you seem to be a much kinder person than most of the people in hawkins, even if he thinks that just for the simple fact that you don't look at him funny when the two of you are sat next to one another during the few classes he actually attends

While thinking the fact that all of your school supplies are pretty shades of pink and most of them covered in glitter is pretty cute.

It's not until one day, when you walk up to the hellfire table, does he fully recognize how ethereal you are. You completely ignore him and the others, in favor of asking Dustin and Mike something. Causing his brows to shoot up, since when did you know them?

He stands up at the end of the table, with his usual dramatic flair. The shift catches your eyes and you look up at him from your bent over position at the opposite end, before offering him your candy sweet smile he's seen flashed around the halls

"What brings such a lovely creature over to our very own corner?"

Dustin chimes in with a soft "they're my babysitter"

"And I was just checking about something. Sorry to bother you! Nice hair though!" You tell him before going back to your own table without a second thought

You helping dustin calm eddie down when he has the bottle to steves neck, causing a look of confusion to flash over his face. Wondering why you're with the group and why you were even looking for him

A few moments later, after he's done explaining what happened with chrissy, you explain your involvement with dustin and the others. Telling him how you helped steve protect the kids from the demodogs, the way you made sure El was safe and that you were there at the starcourt mall when every thing went to hell.

"I've always babysat dustin and it just turned into....this. But steve, nancy and robin don't make me feel dumb for anything. Same with little dude, he always just explained it. Kids too smart for his own good if you ask me."

Thinks you look cute offering suggestions to help with vecna, even if some of them don't quite make sense. Like when you asked if you could try to politely ask him to leave hawkins alone before trying to attack him

Made sure to zip up your jacket and double knot your shoes for you before going into the upside down because he knew probably won't think about it

Once the two of you started dating, eddie started carrying whatever you usually forgot in his metal lunchbox. A extra tube of the glittery lip balm that he loves to kiss off between classes, a couple of your pink pencils for class, the specific brand of gum you always seem to chew, anything he noticed that you've forgotten a couple of times and pouted over it.

Constantly opens things for you, but at the price of a kiss. All you have to do is hold it out with puppy dog eyes and he'll grab it with an eye roll. But he does it every time, and even when he grabs something from the store for you, he automatically opens it before handing it to you. Tapping his cheek with a grin just waiting for you to lean up and give him a soft kiss.

Always calling you sweetheart, honey or bunny. usually dripping with sickeningly sweet tone.

Thinks it's cute when you look at him as if he hung the stars in the sky when he explains things to you. Eddie always makes sure you're listening and asks if you have any questions as you're going over something. Like when he was explaining d&d to you, his heart melted(and he got hard) everytime you turned to him to make sure you were doing everything correctly. Even with the small things like designing your character. Which you still had him help you with.

Whenever you but new clothes, he always expects a fashion show after. Full of twirls showing off every inch of the new outfits, complete with your happy laughter. He tells you how pretty you look in everything even if its not his personal style. Eddie couldn't dream of his pretty fairy dressing like he does, he thinks you look perfect in the pinks and the crop tops that show off your soft skin.

Eddie will crumble if you whine and pout about something, and if you break out the tears? He will do anything physically possible to solve it. Always softly shushing you and wiping them off of your face with his big hands, telling you that you don't wanna ruin your pretty mascara now do you?

He instantly puts his hands in front of you whenever you sit by him, so you can fiddle with his hands and rings. After noticing how you always stare at them whenever you zone out and constantly play with them whenever the two of you hold hands. Teases you for it all the time, asking if you like how big his hands are and how shiny the rings can be.

Bought you a stuffed animal one day and was shocked that it sat separate from all your others that litter your bedroom. Even more shocked to find out that you sleep with it every night.

He buys you a set of die and customizes them to be baby pink with white glitter numbers.

Always pats your head when you look over at him confused about something before trying to explain it, doesn't always work out but he at least tries.

Started carrying an extra jacket or hoodie in his van for when your outfits get too cold you can have something if he's not wearing his battle jacket or leather jacket

Loves when you get so excited over the smallest things, like when the store had a cute sticker pack and you had enough change to get it. Some ended up on his metal lunchbox.

Always holds out his fork or spoon whenever he's eating, offering you some. Gently reminding you to stay hydrated, holding the bottle or cup to your mouth to make sure you actually take a drink.

Doesn't mind if you leave lipstick marks on him, especially not when you giggle about how it stands out against his pale skin.

Eddie will sometimes spend far too much money on movie nights just so you can everything you want. So what if he has to skimp a little on food? The way your eyes light up when you see everything set up, as nice as he can offer.

He feels bad when you spend money on him but realizes later on you don't care as long as it makes him happy, the same way he is with you. The way you look at him with soft doe eyes, waiting for his reaction to the newest ozzy cassette or the deluxe version of the mettalica album he doesn't have yet.

Constantly kissing your forehead and telling you not to worry your pretty little head over things, that he'll take care of it for his lil baby

Nsfw

Guides your hips when you're on top most of the time, usually leading to him flipping the two of you over so he can thrust into you. Asks if you're gonna take it like he knows you can and laughs when all you can do is nod and whine while bucking your hips into his

Introduces you to cockwarming, knowing you'll want more before five minutes go by. Ready to tease you and call you his greedy crybaby while starting to bounce you on his cock

Drools over you in white panties, especially if you make a wet spot in them. Immediately reaching out to touch it and ask if you got messy like that just for him? Grinning when you tell him that its always just for him, you're his pretty baby and nobody else's

Tries (and does) to convince you to have sex in the hellfire club room.

Regularly steals your underwear and lotion so he can jerk off with it later, wanting to smell you as much as he can.

Could have stock in polaroid film with the amount that the two of you use. He keeps his current favorite ones tucked into his wallet, the rest are in his bedside table drawer as well as the camera.

Says you look so pretty already but even prettier when he marks you up with lovebites all over. Loves when they peak out of the collar of your shirt at school the next day

Cums in you and cleans it up with his fingers before sucking it off and giving you a sweet kiss

"God you feel so good wrapped around me baby, like you were made for this. Were you? Made just for me to fuck even dumber?"

Would rather die than tell you the amount of times he's dreamt about you in the cutest skirts and he woke up with cum in his boxers

Constantly has his hands in your bottoms, gently playing with you. He can't keep his hands to himself in general and loves see you squirm and send him questioning looks while making your underwear messy

Loves when you drool and it makes him want to lick it up before spitting it back into your mouth and making you swallow it

Doesn't usually get frustrated when you brat unless you push it too far, then you end up with bruises and indentions from his rings on your ass and on the tops of your thighs.

Rolls a d20 to decide what your reward for being good will be, the list of possuble rewards is tucked away with the pictures and camera in the drawer.

Bites. Just bites you where ever he feels like it. On your neck, your chest, your thighs, your hips, etc. Eddie grins whenever you yelp when you're not expecting the bite.

Thinks its cute when you watch his guitar pick necklace swing in your face when He's on top of you, letting you catch it in your mouth some times so you have something to suck on while his hands are supporting his weight.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things x y/n #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson x bimbo!reader #eddie munson x thembo!reader #bimbo reader #thembo reader

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sunshinediaz · 6 months

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snippet sunday ⛈

this is WAY more than seven sentences but sometimes i just can't be bothered to count, especially after the day i had okay

but please enjoy hoa eddie being an absolute fuckin menace

“Actually, Mr. Diaz,” Henry starts, and it’s the tone of his voice, snarky and superior and fuck, Eddie’s encountered enough people in his life with this attitude to know he’s not the one, spent enough time in detention at school to know he’s not the one, but he spins around, anyway, because he’s a glutton, “you have to pay ten dollars for every person that spends the night.” “Huh?” “Yes,” Henry plows on, as if he’s clarified something. Eddie’s just as lost now as he was two seconds ago. “Your friend—Buck, I think. You have to pay ten dollars for every guest that stays over.” That’s stupid. Like, his son is a popular kid, right, and he’s got loads of friends—more than Eddie ever had at that age but hey, his kid is fucking amazing—and now that he has a larger house with an even larger backyard, he knows there’s going to be weekends where his place is full of teenagers. He’s not paying ten dollars a head for Christopher’s friends. Besides, Buck has his own room at the house. That has to count for something. “He’s not a guest. My home is his home, too.” Henry shrugs. “I don’t make the rules,” he says, and Eddie’s pretty sure that’s a lie since his photo is hanging up on the wall behind his chair. “Unless they’re part of the household or a partner, you have—” “He is.” “Excuse me?” An idea forms in the front of Eddie’s brain, one his sister’s would be laughing over since they’ve always had a way of reading his mind, and says, “He is. Buck, I mean. He’s my partner.” “Romantic?” Eddie makes a noise. “Does it matter?” He snorts a laugh, one that hurts his throat, and shoves his hand through his hair because he has got to get himself under control. What the fuck is he doing? “He’s my—my Buck. He’s mine.” “Oh.” Henry taps his fingers against the desk. “I didn’t know that.” “Yeah, well, it’s none of your business,” Eddie bites, a little meaner than he ought to be, but he can’t be blamed. Buck and Chris are waiting at home for him with dinner and dessert, and he’s here, haggling with a stranger over the special place Buck holds in his heart, and Buck’s worth ten dollars, worth ten gazillion dollars, more, yeah, but it’s the principle of the thing. “Now, I’m going home to him and my son. I’ll see you later, Harley.” He snatches a pamphlet off the desk, turns around, again, and makes his way out of the office, ignoring the flustered call of, “My name’s Henry, actually!” because he’s tired, worked a 12 hour shift without his normal team because he owed a favor to the rookie on B shift, and he wants to go home, needs to go home to relax and decompress and eat some fucking cake, and this little club isn’t going to ruin another one of his nights.

i was tagged by @hippolotamus, @jesuisici33, @callaplums, @honestlydarkprincess, @wikiangela, and @daffi-990

and i'm gonna no pressure tag @callmenewbie, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiediaztho, @exhuastedpigeon, @try-set-me-on-fire, @ladydorian05, and anybody else mwah

#eddie is once again proving that he is a goofy son of a bitch #like. he just keeps getting into shenanigans here and it's SO funny.#my guy you've got other things to worry about besides the hoa #now you've accidentally started fake dating your best friend and you don't even know you're in love with him #goofy bitch i love you so much #tag games

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fireflysummers · 9 months

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Final Thoughts on GO S2

I'm probably gonna pull back on discussing S2, at least publicly, after this. I did actually like a lot of the season, but it's triggering some of my religious trauma and also the fandom is already stressing me out. So here, let's have some final thoughts.

First and foremost: I am not a Gaiman simp. I've read a decent amount of his work: comics, short stories, essays, and novels. Aside from Good Omens, I've liked Coraline and The Graveyard Book the best by far, whereas American Gods just. Did Not Connect with me, even though it's should have, given the stuff I tend to enjoy.

However. Regardless of whether I like a given work (or even like how he adapted it, a la parts of The Sandman TV series), he is a veteran writer who has proven that he does, actually, know how to write a story with consistent characters.

Beyond that, I do actually believe that he's trying to do right by Pratchett, and loves and respects the story and characters they created together. He's generally shown up as an ally to a variety of social causes, and directly and respectfully responds to fans on Tumblr. While no saint, I feel that there is cause to give the benefit of the doubt that things will resolve satisfyingly in S3, and that there is Intention about some of the things in S2.

This, of course, does not absolve it of being "bad," but even here I think we need to articulate better the different types of "bad" that people are reacting to. There seems to roughly be three camps here: 1) People who thought it was "bad" because of how it ended, with the breakup and a lot of unresolved plot threads; 2) People who thought it was "bad" because it struggled on a technical level with its set, lighting, directorial choices, editing, etc; 3) People who thought it was "bad" because they felt the characterization was significantly off and that the internal logic of the series had been violated.

With regards to Point One, the only solution is to Wait and See. Judgement should be reserved until the story is properly finished--easier said than done, especially considering the current media landscape, and the number of series or franchises that fail to live up to their promises.

Point Two isn't something I understand well enough to contribute meaningfully, except that I suspect the pandemic affected this aspect the most and am willing to give it a bit more mercy. That aside, I for the most part I don't find it bad so much as not as good as S1. Except for the parts with epilepsy warnings, surely there could've been a better way to do that.

Point Three... that's the stumbling block for me, and I find it interesting that most of the folks who struggle with this point in particular are long time fans of the book.

I trust that instinct.

There are two different directions to go from here. The first is the assumption that these problems are a result of ego, carelessness, or lack of skill from the showrunners/writers/director. It's cynical but not unjustified. The second is the belief that the breaks in lore or characterization were intentional, building towards a much grander conspiracy. Of course, even in this case I don't think it forgives the lack of signposting that would indicate that this is a choice rather than an accident. It just makes it feel clumsy and poorly constructed, a major risk on a show that hasn't had its third season confirmed.*

However, regardless, it still feels salvageable. I've enjoyed reading a lot of meta on all this, and I've pulled some things from others (particularly That Theory by @ariaste), but I don't really want to put forth a single, defined theory myself. Instead, here's some questions I've got, why those questions are important (to me, at least). Actual theorizing comes after, and anybody who snidely mentions Sherlock in the comments or tags is going to get auto-blocked. Like seriously, I'm aware that some stuff is a stretch, but it's fun??? To theorize????? And I'm here for me and my peace of mind rather than trying to argue a point.

*I have some suspicions here, particularly with Gaiman stating that the decision from Amazon would come much faster than The Sandman's second season (which was four months). I don't know enough though to say if that's actually significant.

Questions

Who the fuck is telling this story?

This is the most important piece, in my opinion. There's this assumption when reading books (or research papers, newspapers, etc...) that the narrator who is writing the words is a non-presence, Neutral and objective. That's not the case, and an important part of literature critique is figuring out who the narrator is, and what their goals are. Oftentimes, the narrator and the author are the same person, but with Pratchett's work, particularly on Good Omens and Discworld, the Narrator was its own unique character.

This is why people struggle adapting Discworld to live action--that medium requires a Reason for having a Narrator, and especially in the age of method acting that's often considered immersion-breaking. Good Omens worked so well because they not only kept the Narrator, but they made Her God.

This added some really interesting new dimensions, such as the scene where Crowley speaks to God about his fall and the destruction of humanity. He doesn't receive an answer, but we're watching from God's perspective, so we as the audience know that She's listening.

Another advantage of making God the Narrator is that it justifies all the goofy little asides we get into the lives of minor characters (i.e. Leslie the Mailman), without losing focus. It helps the world feel like it’s full of people, rather than characters and plot contrivances, and the theme that individual people and their choices are important. The Narrator is such a central character of Good Omens that without it, the story struggles to stay focused.

It also highlights a key difference in the writing styles of the two authors. Pratchett’s work tends to introduce four or five totally unique plot threads that feel completely disjointed until the last act (if not even later), when it turns into a Chekhov’s Firing Squad. Plot twists around secret identities and backstabbing and schemes are relatively rare, as the omniscient Narrator doesn’t lie about the intentions of people or their actions.

Gaiman’s writing is typically not like that, to my knowledge. He buries characters in misdirection and hints, and you never know the true identity or motives until all the chips are down. It’s a perfectly valid way to approach storytelling, but it makes it jarring to see it in S2. The lack of a Narrator is a huge reason why S2 doesn’t feel like Good Omens to some folks.

My gut feeling is that the decision to shift from the original Narrator was highly intentional. It helps to obscure the thoughts and intentions of people, and it also muddles the insights that we’re supposed to take away. (I would have loved hearing God monologue about what’s going on in Jim’s head. I think it’d do a lot to make him seem less.... obnoxiously stupid.)

More than that, it brings up a reasonable potential plot point of: Where did God go? Why isn’t She present in the story? Even in her early appearance in the Job flashback, she doesn’t sound like the narrator for last season. After the first part of her speech (which Gabriel later quotes), her tone turns casual and condescending, which might line up with her being a bit of an asshole, it doesn’t line up with the whole “dealer of a mysterious card game who is always smiling”).

Also, I don’t think it’s safe to assume that nobody is telling the story either. Just because they’re not making their presence known doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and in a story like Good Omens, that’s concerning.

Wait, where's Satan?

Another person I saw while scrolling the tags pointed out that Satan is nowhere to be seen this season. He's really only mentioned in reference to a bet God made in Job, but then Crowley is the one on the ground causing mischief. There's no Hail Satan among demons (like Hastur and Ligur did at the start of S1).

That's might be because the writers didn't want us to think it was important (a la Hastur), but that feels off. Given that Satan speaks directly through the radio to Crowley in S1, complimenting him on his work, it's safe to say that he was at least aware of and involved in the goings-on in Hell. The fact that he wasn't even an worry for Beelzebub in abandoning their post? Feels weird.

(Also if you know where that post is, I'll happy credit + link)

What is Maggie?

Look, I love cute lesbians in love as much as the next queer, but I don't like Maggie. I don’t think she’s a person. Contextually, she’s a plot device, but I agree with That Essay that she might be an actual Plot Device.

Her characterization is simple and relatively shallow—a bit of an airhead, ray of sunshine that’s supposed to remind you of Aziraphale. When she describes her past to Nina, it’s almost robotic (also, her story implies it was Mr. Fell who first rented to her ancestor, not Mr. Fell’s great-grandfather like Nina implied). Her emotions are over-dramatic and seem to be turned on and off at random (scenes with her crying to Aziraphale about her woes had my “manipulator” senses going off for some reason).

When asked about a song, she not only IDs the song, its singer, and its year, but how and on what it was distributed. (Honestly thought this would’ve been something interesting, because she’s been pretty ditzy so far, it’d be interesting if she had like... an insane memory for music history.) And then she’s the one that sets Aziraphale on his little investigation by giving him the transformed records, while also planting the seed about her love troubles with Nina. Later, her advice to Crowley is... not awful, but feels insincere and a bit too forward, given her own self-proclaimed lack of relationship experience.

I don’t know what she is (a demon, hastur with amnesia in disguise, a literal plot device inserted by the current storyteller, etc...), but there’s something not right with her.

(Also the joke of “who listens to records anymore, it’s so old fashioned” just doesn’t land, lots of people buy records, and I’m saying this as somebody who has worked at a record store before.)

What's going on with Aziraphale?

There’s something Off about Aziraphale, and it’s not his choices at the end of the season. That makes total sense if you read him as somebody with severe religious trauma getting dragged back into the abusive system because other people need him and he’s been promised the ability to change things.

But I do think something is happening to his memory. Nearly all the flashbacks are from Aziraphale’s point of view and retelling, which means that they’re less reliable than God’s version of events in the previous season. Many of them don’t make logistical sense (post-church scene in 1941), depict Crowley as meaner or more sinister than we know he is, or frame events... weirdly. The scene with him trying food for the first time feels Really Bad, especially when the series has previously established that he’s a) prim and proper and b) his interest in food is one of the beautiful things that connect him to humanity, not some kind of gluttonous sin. Also he turns down alcohol.

Their meet-cute at the start of the universe also doesn’t line up with their reactions to each other in Eden, or the fact that knowing each other Before has never come up or been hinted at anywhere ever. I don’t know what’s causing this to happen, only that Aziraphale repeatedly looks pensive when coming out of flashbacks, and Crowley is never there afterwards to corroborate said memories.

His actions also seem pretty inconsistent with what we know of him—i.e. I refuse to believe he would ever mistreat his books, even if they’re just old encyclopedias. Also, he feels a bit too...forceful in trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love? I mean, he didn’t exert that much direct influence on even Warlock, when he was actively hoping that the boy would turn out angelic rather than neutral.

I don’t think this removes his agency in that last decision, so much as explains how he was in such a vulnerable place at all. He still needs to apologize and fix things, because he messed up, and even if he hadn’t he still seriously hurt Crowley.

What's going on with Crowley?

There’s something Off about Crowley. The most obvious thing, of course, is his memories. At multiple points in the present day, characters state that they remember him or have met him before, only to be met with confusion. This is especially concerning given that he has a nigh photographic memory for faces (something mentioned in the book when he immediately IDs Mary Loquacious, 11 years after a 30 second conversation).

Overall, he seems to be better known by other supernatural entities this season, in ways that often tie him back to his angelic identity (i.e. saying they fought together in the war, Aziraphale stating he knew the angel he used to be, etc...). This doesn’t feel right, because S1 we see that Hell is largely apathetic towards his schemes, and definitely does not defer to him at any point in any capacity.

Then there’s the issue of his power level. It’s always been speculated that Crowley was a powerful angel prior to falling, when he mentions in S1 his involvement with star making, his seemingly unique ability to freeze time, and creating a pocket universe for Adam before the confrontation with Satan. He also has a tendency of breathing life into inanimate objects, like his plants or car. He also has the regular demonic skillset: miracles that can adjust physical appearance; the ability to change inanimate objects (like paintball guns into real guns); the ability to manifest clothing and similar items; and summon hellfire to his fingertips. This, plus the way he monologues to God with a degree of familiarity rather than reverence seems to indicate that he was Somebody Powerful and Important Before.

But in S2, his skills are significantly expanded upon. The miracle he and Aziraphale summon sets off alarms in heaven and hell, and it’s powerful enough to mask Gabriel from the Archangels. He summons a miniature sun to rain fire on Job, which is way bigger and flashier than anything we’ve seen him summon in S1. (If he needs fire, he alters the course of a dropping bomb, without creating one himself.)

Yet he’s able to cloak his presence so well he goes wholly unnoticed in heaven, or in front of heavenly agents on earth (i.e. the Job flashback). Muriel can’t clock him as a demon, or even as another supernatural being, despite their auras usually being pretty significant, such Aziraphale immediately sensing the archangels when they arrive. He’s able to interfere with files that Muriel claimed required clearance (although I feel like that might just be a snark about Obeying Without Thinking? I would really need a Narrator to know.)

I might be misremembering, but I don’t think we’ve seen angels or demons transmogrify living beings before either. In the book, Crowley brings Aziraphale’s dove back to life after the failed magic show, and occasionally sinks ducks, but he doesn’t alter them? Not even Adam demonstrates that skill in S1. But he has no trouble turning Job’s children into lizards, however temporarily. Boy that would’ve been convenient during the flood. Or when the guard stopped then from getting to the air strip.

I don’t have any real issues with his characterization in the present day parts of S2, but there’s something weird happening with Crowley.

Where's all the people?

I really like a lot of the new characters, but how were there only like, 2.5 new humans named in the present day? Flashbacks don’t count bc the humans are all dead and can’t affect the story.

As much as I like Nina, she and Maggie don’t drive the story beyond being an occasional and awkwardly inserted plot contrivance? Both are actively robbed of their agency at several points, forced into situations that they could not have avoided or escaped. I’m not really sure what growth they’re expected to experience other than deciding not to date each other after everything. I literally can’t tell you anything about Nina other than that she remembers her regular’s orders, runs a coffee shop, and has a textbook abusive partner we never see. The only meaningful interactions they have are between those two, or in conversation with Aziraphale and Crowley.

Compare that to S1, where Anathema gets hit by Aziraphale and Crowley, but her primary relationships are with Newt, Adam, and Agnes Nutter (I think that counts as a relationship). We know that she’s got a wealthy family back in Puerto Rico, and that she was literally raised to save the world, and that she isn’t happy under all that pressure. Newt on the other hand is connected to not just Anathema, but Shadwell and Madame Tracy. He never even directly interacts with Aziraphale and Crowley. We know about his hobbies, his struggle to hold down a job, and his almost supernatural ability to destroy any electronics he touches. I don’t necessarily like how their relationship came together, but they were both very, very well fleshed out characters with unique backstories and goals. They weren’t just... waiting around to give Aziraphale and Crowley a new questline.

And while there’s no requirement to include a large cast of human characters that are exerting influence over the story, the lack of it is another aspect that makes this season feel not like Good Omens.

Also, it's just. Really weird to me that the events of S1 aren't really referenced at all? Like, Adam isn't mentioned, nor is Warlock. I don't expect them to keep track of the humans they met on the airfield for 20 minutes, but none of it is ever specifically referenced as far as I can tell, beyond Crowley threatening Gabriel. Like, I get that it's been a few years, but the pair caused a big enough disturbance that you'd expect some kind of ripples in their supernatural communities.

Promised by the Narrative (Obvious Chekhov's guns that I will be legitimately upset over if they do not go off)

A sincere apology from Aziraphale to Crowley that doesn't come with the expectation that Crowley will come back to him, but because he deserves an apology, even if the choices Aziraphale made were done with good intentions. Aziraphale does not expect forgiveness, and is shocked when Crowley grants it without hesitation.

A clear declaration of love from Aziraphale, which can't be rationalized away by either of them.

An "I'm Sorry" dance between Aziraphale and Crowley, but with greater sincerity and gravity. The most important piece is that they end up dancing together, which signifies a mutual apology and dedication to come together.

Since kissing is on the table, I expect an actual joyful, mutual kiss between these two assholes.

A shared cottage in South Downs.

Predictions/Theories (just some fun thoughts I've had)

When Adam declared that Satan was not his father, he didn't make himself not the antichrist, but accidentally crowned his human dad the King of Hell. Nobody knows this, because Adam doesn't have a good measure for "normal" supernatural situations, and Mr. Young because he's so "normal" that he explains away all the magical bullshit that's started going down.

When Adam declared that Satan was not his father, he erased Satan altogether. However, this left a vacuum in both power and reality. The defection of both Gabriel and Beelzebub only widens that crack. In an attempt to Fix things, reality is warping the story. Crowley has become leagues more powerful between S1 and S2, as the narrative is trying to force him into the role of his previous boss. Aziraphale is unknowingly being pulled into a similar version on the Other Side, perhaps to replace Gabriel or perhaps to replace God herself, who has been fairly absent in all this. The alterations to their memories or past have come about to keep the narrative running smoothly.

When the Metatron asks Nina whether anybody has ever asked for death, he was actually referring to Death, the sole remaining rider of the apocalypse.

If Maggie is indeed a Plot Device, it would be a fascinating exploration of Free Will to see her become aware of this (cue existential crisis), and then fall in love with Nina on her own terms, rather than because she was written that way.

Hastur will be back. Somehow.

The reason why S2 focuses so much on the supernatural characters is because S3 will be about how the events in S1 have changed the political landscape of heaven and hell. Angels are questioning their roles, demons are yearning for something more. It's scaring upper administration, and then the two most reliable folks in employment run away to alpha centauri. Recruiting Aziraphale and getting him back in line prevents him from becoming a martyr, control the range of his influence. The series reasserts its theme of choice and agency by highlighting that Aziraphale and Crowley aren't that special, they've just had the chance to live and grow, and that the others have free will too, if they want it.

The reason why they wanted to separate Aziraphale and Crowley, is not to get Aziraphale on his own, but to get Crowley on his own. He literally stopped time and made a pocket universe in front of Satan last season. He's powerful and dangerous and somebody wants to see that reigned in.

Wishlist (stuff I desperately want to see)

Crowley getting an audience with God and an opportunity to ask his questions, only to refuse to do so because he's found his own Answers and he no longer needs hers

Aziraphale and Crowley growing more into their book incarnations. Aziraphale becomes confident in his sense of morality, which he developed the hard way through millennia on earth besides humanity. He slowly learns what it means to be loved, unconditionally, but also is better at asserting and maintaining his boundaries. Crowley, still anxious and unwinding, works through his fear of abandonment, providing him opportunities to be kind and gentle and nurturing--all traits that he's aggressively hid since being a demon.

Hand holding. I know that Gaiman was referring to Ineffable Bureaucracy, but I still feel like we'd benefit from meaningful hand holding, especially since that got cut from the adaptation of the book.

Shifted focus away from the supernatural shenanigans, and back onto the humans that actually drive the story.

Cameos from S1 characters (if not a more substantial appearance).

The Four Other Riders of the Apocalypse.

Cursed Thoughts (why I shouldn't be allowed a social platform)

Ineffable Bureaucracy turns up in season 3 because Beelzebub got Gabriel pregnant somehow.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #good omens meta #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens 2 theory #good omens 2 analysis #long post #text

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dreadsuitsamus · 7 months

Text

5 Times You Meet Kensei +1 Time He Gets Your Number | Kensei Muguruma x Reader |

author's note: this structure is horribly outdated but i give no fucks!! thank you to @yeowangies for the help and support on this!

pairing: kensei muguruma x fem!reader

warnings: buncha meet cutes, alcohol mentions, lotsa flustering kensei

Speed dating.

What in the fuck is he doing here.

Kensei pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits at a table, waiting for the event to start just so it can end that much sooner. Mashiro forced this damn thing on him, that little shit. She knows just how to annoy him and get her way: why does he keep her around??

"I guess this isn't really your thing, huh?"

Kensei's brown eyes flick up; dammit, he zoned out and made a fool of himself on the very first 'date'. His silver brow twitches involuntarily as he responds. "You got me."

Your laugh twinkles as you slide into the seat across from him, a fruity cocktail in hand. Kensei's struck immediately by your beauty, for sure, and he's suddenly feeling underdressed in his black Henley and jeans while he's up against your, emphasis on little, black dress and golden accessories. "I've done a few of these before; it's not really anybody's thing, honestly. You're not as out of place as you feel."

"Oh, yes the hell I am." An odd laugh accompanies his shaky assertion— and he hates that he's nervous!

"You should have a drink, calm your nerves a little." The black straw from your brightly colored drink settles in the center of your gorgeously painted lips, demonstrating how you can possibly bear such an event without so much as batting an eye while your gaze flicks to the name tag stuck onto his chest.

Kensei rubs the back of his neck, his muscles deliciously hugged by that too-small Henley. "Good idea. But I don't know if I should be taking advice from someone with more sugar than alcohol in her drink."

Your laugh does more to calm his nerves than a drink would, that's for sure.

You continue to chuckle to yourself as he goes to the bar, watching him order his scotch on the rocks from the rather busy bar. The red numbers tick down on the clock, and he's not likely to return before the time is up. It is speed dating after all. Fishing out a pen from your purse, you scribble a little note on the cocktail napkin before moving onto the next table.

Kensei is rather relieved when he returns to an empty table— but only briefly, since your seat is taken damn near immediately by a new stranger. He has a pull from the drink, smirking into the tumbler as he reads your note and tunes out the new 'date' introducing themselves.

Get it with a twist next time, you wimp!

"This shouldn't have been so controversial." Kensei's arms are crossed and the vein that's famously seen amongst his infuriating friend group is throbbing so hard that they may as well pay for an entire extra seat just for it.

Shinji and Hiyori, as per fucking usual, cannot decide what movie to watch. The group is split entirely, and it's up to his tie breaking vote to get the evening moving along. They're arguing harshly, the two factions, and he has not a care in the world to the actual film. He just wants his popcorn and peanut M&M's that'll cost him a solid thirty dollars and to take a nap.

"Shut up!" He stands tall, brown eyes furious and just a tad crazy as he fishes a coin from his pocket. "Heads or tails, you jackasses!"

He flips the coin easily, not even sure who called what side as he catches it and flips it into the back of his hand. "Tails. I'm getting a snack now."

Hiyori's taunting Shinji as they purchase the tickets, and Kensei tucks his box of candy into one of his pockets (he told Mashiro his cargo shorts are useful!!) so he can better hold his popcorn bucket out of Hiyori's reach as they stand in line to have their tickets scanned. "Hey, you little rat! Knock it off!"

The giggle behind him is familiar, and his eyes widen rather comically upon sight of you and what he presumes is your gaggle of friends. He never saw you again during that disaster of a night, and it was definitely for the best— he was hammered by the end of it and had to be, literally, picked up by Hachi just to make it home.

"Nice to see you again, Ken." You tease, laughing at Hiyori's ability to snatch a handful of his popcorn during his stunned daze.

"K-Ken?" He stumbles on the word— nobody has ever called him that.

"What movie are you seeing?" You breeze on by his confusion, though the gears in his head have come to a complete standstill. Listen closely enough and you'll hear the internet dial up tone.

"Ah…" He shows his ticket to you, ignoring the snickers of his friends behind him. He'll never live this down. Kensei, their resident, stone-faced asshole, is flustered??

"Oh, we saw that last weekend! Not a bad movie; I think you'll like it." You smile and the line moves up, Kensei's group getting their tickets scanned next.

"Not sure if I trust the opinion of someone who agrees with Hiyori's tastes." Kensei grumbles, worried that the heat on his cheeks is visible to you; or worse, his friends.

"Hey!" Hiyori kicks at Kensei's shin, though it hurts her far more than Kensei himself. You scan your ticket, the teen at the stand pointing your theater in the opposite direction of Kensei's movie.

"You'll trust me enough after you see it." You wink and start to head to your movie, glancing over your shoulder to smile at Kensei once more before disappearing into the theater. Ignoring the snickers of his friends, Kensei growls and heads into their own designated theater.

I should've fucking flipped heads.

The chill of the air is rather inconsequential to Kensei as he runs security at the door of the nightclub, his nice suit and gloves keeping him as warm as he is stylish. He's never been one to say no to extra cash, and though his days as a doorman are far behind him, he's still got it, evidently. He's stopped several fake IDs, weapons, drugs and more, all while making his much-higher hourly rate than he did back when this was his living.

Just after busting a teen with the worst fake ID he's ever seen, Kensei's line finally starts fizzling out. The club is booming, half of the city must be inside by this point, with the other half having been kicked swiftly to the curb. He checks the expensive watch on his wrist; just a few more hours and he's all done, his favor to the club owner fulfilled and his next monthly car note paid off. Huffing out a breath, the cold air lingers for a moment, and as it dissipates, he's met with his next crowd of people.

So much for a moment of peace.

The group is split between himself and the other doorman, and it's the routine pat downs and ID checks as usual. He's gotten through a third of the group before you're before him, smirking with twinkly eyes as you present your ID to him— it's only now that he actually gets your name.

"Funny how we keep meeting." You tease, tucking the ID card back into your wallet and stepping aside for his pat down, rather eager for those strong-looking hands to get a touch of you.

Kensei's brown eyes flick to meet your gaze, and his face warms just at the sight of you. You truly are a stunning woman. "Careful; I might just think you're stalking me."

"You think I like you that much, Ken? Interesting…" Your teeth graze your lower lip, just a little, as you spread your arms and legs.

"Don't call me Ken." He grumbles, appreciating the way your perfume masks the cigarettes those in line have been smoking all night.

"It's cute." You shrug and Kensei pats you down without another word, perking a pierced brow as he snags a small bottle of whiskey concealed in your waistband.

"I don't think you know what 'cute' is if you're talking about me in the same sentence. Better luck next time, princess."

"Guess you're good at your job, huh?" You murmur, gazing up and over your shoulder to better see his handsome face. He's got a pet name for you now, hm? Interesting.

"Shoulda got in the other guy's line." Kensei mutters, tossing and subsequently shattering the glass on the cold sidewalk.

"I like this line." Slowly, your fingertip drags along the length of his sharp jaw and it's then that Kensei's aware of his other hand still holding your hip— how in the hell do you have the ability to make him forget himself so easily? "But since you took my whiskey… Can I go inside now? I could use a drink."

The taller man's Adam's apple bobs and he releases you, practically pushing you into the doors of the booming club and the arms of your giggling friends. His face is pink, and at least he can try to pass it off on the cold temperatures if anyone asks.

He should've saved that damn whiskey for later.

Kensei's sweating like a whore in church as he finishes his workout, his body glistening with sweat as he pulls off his tank top for a taste of refreshing air. Cardio was a particular killer for him today, though it made the weight training a little bit easier too. He'd been slacking off for a few weeks, and the moment he had just a little difficulty yeeting Mashiro and Lisa (simultaneously, and while dealing with Hiyori doing her best to knock him over) into that pit of foam at the trampoline place was a reminder to get back to the gym.

He's more of a primadonna than he admits.

He takes a long pull from his water bottle, pouring the remainder over his heated face and shoulders and scans the room. It's habit to him, partially as a former special forces commander and also due to the number of times he's caught others incorrectly using equipment and aided them for better workouts. The gym is the only place he's remotely social in, oddly enough.

His brown eyes narrow at the sight of a woman (that can't be who he thinks it is) on a stair stepper. There's a man beside her, one that he noticed following her around before. They could be friends, though Kensei doubts it greatly as the loser continues to stand beside you, talking about gains while you remain the only one actually working out.

The guy's talking with his hands, and Kensei's witnessed this brand of harassment enough to tell where this is going. Wasting a breath no more, he's walking over with a meaner face than usual. It is you, and that makes him just a little more angry at this harassment than he'd normally be. You turn your head away from the man that's been annoying you, eyes lighting up at your savior. "Ken!"

Kensei places himself between you and the strange man, his impressive size and build enough to make the other guy nervous. "You like harassing women at the gym?" He crosses those deliciously thick arms, and you're frankly more concerned with viewing his toned back than dealing with the situation at hand.

"I told you I had a boyfriend." You tease, peeking over Kensei's shoulder at the now very intimidated mark.

Kensei frowns just a tad deeper after that— so many things are wrong with that statement. Namely, you thinking you had to have a boyfriend, real or not, for this guy to leave you alone. Unbeknownst to him, the back of his neck flushes a light, rosy color that makes you snicker.

"If I ever see you harassing a woman again, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. Understood?"

Kensei doesn't waste time hearing any lame excuses or apologies before turning to face you, who smirks proudly in his wake. "I'm here most days a week around this time. If anyone bothers you again, just come find me and I'll take care of it. And don't call me Ken."

"You're more bothered by me calling you Ken than my boyfriend?" You raise a brow, an entertained smirk on your face.

"Like I'd date someone who wears a pink bodysuit to the gym." Kensei grumbles lamely, blushing from the tips of his ears to the center of his chest.

"That's a lot of talk coming from someone that's blushing pinker than a Barbie dream house." You laugh, poking one of his pectorals.

He's red now as he looks away from you, his jaw tight as you tease him. "Stop bothering me and finish your workout." He retreats before you can manage to get under his skin again, though his plan doesn't pan out like he hoped as your voice follows him.

"Nice tattoo, by the way!"

"Get your mind outta the gutter!" He hollers back, practically running to hide in the locker room, all while you grin and wonder if that was the hint of a Long Island accent slipping through.

"Come on, let's go!" Kensei claps his hands harshly, ushering his friends (and those they brought along that he merely tolerates) towards the stadium. The baseball game is due to start shortly and goddammit he's not gonna miss a thing because of these unorganized fucks. He's still got a hot dog to get!

"Relax, friend." Shinji shakes his head at Kensei's impatience, not that it was unexpected of the hothead.

"No! They might actually win this one!" Kensei's excitement is hard to contain, and he actually smiles at the idea of his favorite team not being losers!

"Oh yeah? Confident enough to put your money on it?"

Kensei snorts, leading the charge into the stadium amongst the throngs of people. "Not a chance."

Half of the group is sent to their seats while the other takes on the responsibility of securing food and drink, Kensei at the ready with the entire order memorized. The lines are dense, the entire area packed and noisy. Under normal circumstances he'd be overstimulated quickly and heavily irritated, but even those ticks of his can be overlooked for a ballgame.

He's next in line and fires off the order with precision, handing off the drinks to Shinji and Ichigo to run to deliver them to the rest of the group, Kensei more than capable of carrying all the food himself. His thick arms full, he steps away and makes for the stands just as the person in the line beside him exits at the same time.

"Woah there!" You steady yourself against Kensei's strong build, gripping his sleeveless jersey tightly to keep yourself standing as the hot dogs and nachos in his arms crash onto the floor.

"Jesus!" He grumbles, grasping your hip with a strong hand now that the food is gone.

"Oh, Kensei, I'm sorry." You glance at the floor before looking back up at the not-so-strange stranger.

""s just food, no worries." He mutters. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." You wave off his concern easily. "Here, let me buy you your food again."

Kensei snorts, tugging at your own jersey that's for the rival team. "I don't need a Bears fan buying me a hot dog. That's how people choke."

"Ha!" You smile despite your offended scoff. "As if a Panthers fan could do anything but! They learned from the best!"

"You take that back!" Kensei pokes your shoulder.

"You gonna make me?" You smirk in the face of the handsome man, and he smirks right back at you.

"You will by the end of the game, princess."

"Guess we'll see, Ken. That is, if you make it to your seat by the end." Winking slyly, you saunter off and Kensei's left to realize just how much longer the line is now.

"Don't… Don't call me Ken." He grumbles out, heading for the back of the line.

Hell has frozen over: his friends all have plans on a Friday night, between dates and familial commitments and whatnot, and he's left to do whatever the hell he likes in peace. It's been years since he's had such an opportunity, and there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be than here at his favorite dive, enjoying a basket of fish and chips with a mug of ice cold beer.

That was the plan, anyhow. And it started off that way easily enough.

But then you walked in with someone else.

Ever since he met you, you've popped up at the most random times and he's never expected not one of them, this time being the absolute furthest from expecting it he could be. Seeing you was one thing… Seeing you with another guy, in Kensei's favorite bar, was… So fucking rage-inducing that he's still contemplating throwing the guy through the window even an hour after seeing you come in.

Lookin' so pretty… For a fuckin' schmuck that took her to the shittiest dive in town.

Who the hell does the guy think he is? With the prettiest woman for miles on his arm, he's at a dive bar for a first date. The disrespect is insane, the lack of thought or care simply ludicrous. Kensei doesn't date anymore because it's just so stupid but damn if he wouldn't do better than this, by a lot.

"Awfully pouty tonight, Ken."

Kensei blinks out of his salty stupor, turning his head. "Don't call me Ken."

You laugh at his offense to the nickname and order two drinks from the bartender before looking back at him. "What's got you so worked up?"

Kensei feels like his brows will forever be stuck frowning, the vein at his temple about to burst. "Did you just order that grown man a drink?"

"Mhm. Is that an issue?"

He snorts, shaking his head at the bitter laugh he can't control. "No, if you like bums who can't show a pretty woman a good time."

Your teeth sink into your lip, tugging while enjoying how this big, tough guy seems to be jealous that you're with someone else. "Well, when you put it like that, I can't help but wanna see how you'd do it better."

And fuck, there it is. Kensei can't turn down such a golden opportunity; he's already a sucker for being challenged, add a beautiful woman into the mix, one that's mischievous and crafty like you, and he's got no choice but to jump in headfirst. "Then I'll show you. You'd do well to learn what a good date is."

Your grin is bright and you dive into your purse for a pen. "Call me anytime."

Kensei holds the napkin with your number carefully as you retreat to your horrible excuse for a date with the drinks, his heart pumping quicker than normal. Now he can access you intentionally, with ease.

A slow smirk spreads on his lips as he types the number into his phone, nearly wearing a shit-eating grin as he holds it to his ear and watches you politely step away from your sleazy date to answer the call.

"I'm ready to show you a better time."

Your laugh echoes across the room, and for once he's not embarrassed to laugh with you.

#kensei muguruma x you #kensei muguruma x reader #kensei imagine #kensei x reader #kensei x you #kensei bleach #bleach x reader #bleach imagine

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arianatheangel-girl · 1 year

Text

Letting Go

Author’s note: This is for @wanderingelvis, as it was inspired by their innocent!reader stories and the story about E slightly manipulating the reader to drop into littlespace so he can become their caregiver. I can’t wait to see more from you!

Tagging: @mooodyblue @kiankiwi

Warning: this does deal with bodily functions, though nothing too graphic. Don’t like don’t read and all of that.

****

You’d been with Elvis for some time now. He took care of your every need, especially when you were feeling a little confused or “fuzzy” as he put it. He’d become your protector, your everything. Even though you were a grown adult woman, you always needed him nearby, just like a father. You only felt truly safe when you were with him, and as a result, you’d become a lot more sensitive (even with as innocent and naive as you already were). You knew you could trust him to take care of you.

But this had caused another problem. You’d started wetting the bed.

You’d mentioned to Elvis that you’d had a bedwetting problem in the past (due to an underdeveloped bladder and other factors) and you had wet the bed until you were almost 10 years old, at which point it had stopped.

You couldn’t figure out what was causing it now. All you knew was, you’d have a nightmare about your past (or just being separated from Elvis), and the next thing you knew, he’d be shaking you awake, holding you as you cried in his arms and felt the familiar warm dampness between your legs. Once you calmed down, he had no problem giving you a bath and changing out the sheets. It was becoming rare that you woke up dry now. You were embarrassed, but you had no clue what else to do.

Then you started having accidents in the daytime too. At first, they were just little ones; when you were feeling floaty or fuzzy, you’d be playing or watching Sesame Street, then start to dribble a little in your panties before quickly realizing you needed to go and rushing to the potty. Elvis never minded this; he just tried to remind you to pay attention to your body and that he had no problems pausing whatever you were doing when you needed to go.

But then they’d gotten worse.

You remembered one particularly mortifying incident. It was one of the few times Elvis took you out of the house to go walk around, and it had gone about as well as one would expect; it didn’t take long for the fans and press to start mobbing you both. You’d gotten scared and clung onto Elvis’s arm, wanting him to take you back up to the house, and that’s when it happened.

You didn’t even feel it at first, but then suddenly people started laughing and pointing at you, and you looked down to see a little yellow puddle forming between your feet as your pee flooded your panties and trickled down your legs. You immediately burst into tears as Elvis roared at the journalists to back off, telling them he’d sue if anybody dared make fun of you for this.

As he carried you back up to the house, mess and all, he’d whispered in your ear “Oh, little, why didn’t you tell me you needed to go potty? I’d have found you a bathroom right away.”

You didn’t even respond, just shoved your thumb into your mouth and started sucking as you cried into his shoulder; you kept crying even as he cleaned you up and gave you a bath.

Unbeknownst to you, Elvis was actually secretly a little thrilled by this; he loved having you depend on him when you were little, and now he felt this was just another way he could keep you under his care.

A few days after the incident, Elvis came home from one of his meetings carrying a large bag in his hand, before sitting down in front of you.

“Little? I think we need to talk.”

You looked up at him, tears starting to form in your eyes. “What did I do?” You asked.

Immediately, Elvis began to comfort you, wiping your tears away.

“Shh, little. Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything. Daddy’s not mad at you. But…well, baby, you’ve been having more and more accidents lately. Now Daddy’s not mad at you for that; I know it ain’t your fault. But Daddy sees how upset you get whenever you wet the bed or when you’ve wet your panties.

So, honey…I think it might be best if we put you back in diapers for a little while.”

Diapers?! You were shocked. “But I’m not a baby!” You protested.

Elvis shook his head.

“No, little, Daddy knows you’re not a baby. But Daddy just thinks this’d be much easier for you. This way, we don’t have to change your clothes or the sheets whenever you have an accident, and you won’t be worried about embarrassing yourself when we go out. And don’t worry; if you do feel the need to go potty, I’ll still let you go to the bathroom normally. But if you don’t, and you do have an accident, Daddy will change you whenever you need it. There’s no shame in needing protection, little. Lots of people do.”

Well...when he put it that way, it did seem reasonable. After all, you didn’t want to embarrass either Elvis or yourself the few times you left the house. And it would be nice to not worry about wetting the bed or having an accident in your pants. So finally, you agreed.

Elvis smiled. “That’s a good girl, little. Now come on, lay down for Daddy.”

You obeyed, sniffling a little as Daddy removed your jeans and your panties. Much to your embarrassment, a little pee had already leaked into them without you knowing. You didn’t seem to be able to feel when you needed to go anymore when you were fuzzy like this.

Elvis then reached into the bag and pulled out a tub of baby wipes, before he gently began to wipe your bottom and crotch clean, making sure there were no traces of an accident there. He then took out a small bottle of baby powder and sprinkled some onto your crotch and rear (“to make sure you didn’t get any rashes”), before pulling a thick, white disposable diaper out of the package.

“Okay, little, can you lift your hips for me?” Elvis asked. Blushing, you obediently lifted your hips as he slid the disposable diaper under you, gently pushing you back down onto the fluffy garment once he did. He then carefully pulled the diaper up between your legs and securely fastened the tapes, tickling your tummy a little once he was done.

“There you go, little. All snug and padded up for Daddy. Now, who wants to watch a movie?”

You giggled. “I do, I do!” Smiling as Daddy lifted you up into his arms as he went to find something for you to watch. You laid your head against his shoulder, feeling more safe and comfortable than ever.

#cg!elvis #little!reader #elvis presley #elvis imagine

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ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

the power of love pt six | stranger things ; s.harrington

AUTHORS NOTES; If you think this post looks a wee different than when you last saw it, it does. Trying out a new format, but I digress. This chapter came to me on a whim and honestly, I love how it turned out. I hope nobody minds me adding background characters to these because I'm originally an original character writer and writing y/n or reader format is new to me. Kind of challenging sometimes, but I'm enjoying the ride.

You guys have me mind blown, oh my god. I didn't think anybody would actually read anything I posted on here, let alone interact with it. The fact that you guys have been doing that just. I'm in my feelings, ugh, I love you all so so so fucking much and I hope that just one thing I write makes even just one person's day better because then it will definitely be worth it.

-Ashes

SUMMARY; you, the reader, are the older sister of Dustin Henderson. and until Steve Harrington came along, you were pretty much just doing your own thing. an unlikely friendship forms, but will it lead to more?

--- the chapter where reader and steve do a little grocery shopping, have a little moment or two and reader reveals her car has a name.

PAIRING; Steve Harrington x Henderson!Fem reader.

WARNINGS; mentions of the devils lettuce, awkward conversations, swearing, Steve Harrington is a warning all in himself, angst + mutual pining, eventual feelth -tis spelled this way for a reason babes, and thas it.

TAGLIST;

The names above are the only ones present on my taglist for Stranger Things. If you'd like to be on my taglist for anything, including Stranger Things please go check this out and add yourself

OTHER STUFF;

I do not consent to having my work copied/pasted and reposted here or elsewhere. You don’t own this. I do. Don’t steal my shit.

tags doc, bby || rules/fandoms || requests;open - headcanon asks + nsfw or sfw alphabet letters || got a request?

“Y’know, tutoring usually ends with books and notebooks. Not a grocery trip..” Dustin’s statement has you reaching out to lower the volume on the radio and you reach across the seat to playfully tweak his cap. “Aw, don’t worry.. I won’t forget your stupid pudding cups. Mom needed food anyway and all I’m buying with the rest of my check is art supplies.”

“And weed.” Dustin snorts out, laughing.

“Hey!”

“You don’t have to hide it from me. I know what you’re doing when you’re sitting on the big limb outside your bedroom window late at night. Surprised you haven’t fallen out of the damn tree yet, clumsy as you are.”

“Watch it, little fucker.” you warn, laughing. But your brother’s got that solemn little old man look, like he wants to say something but he’s not sure he should. You reach out and lower the radio again. “Okay, kid. Out with it.”

“I just dunno about him, okay? I mean Mike’s always saying he’s kind of a slut..”

“Again, I remind you.. You are the little brother. But continue?” you nod, waiting for Dustin to finish whatever he’s working up to saying.

“I just want you to be careful, alright?”

“Dustin, oh my god… I swear, if you give me a lecture, kid.. I’m gonna hug you in front of everybody at the arcade when I drop you. Do you really want Gia to see that?”

Dustin shrugs. “I think she’s pissed at me anyway.”

You rub the bridge of your nose. “Okay, what’d you do?”

“It’s more what she did. She uh.. Tried to kiss me, I panicked and bolted out of the AV room.”

You’re snorting because you’re laughing because this is peak Dustin, truly. This is your adorable little brother. You place a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to kiss her back, y’know. If you don’t wanna. If she’s mad, so be it. It’s your body, your choice.”

Dustin seems relieved. He hates people getting mad at him. Always has.

You pull to a stop in front of the arcade. “I’ll be back at six, tops.” you promise. As Dustin goes to get out, you catch hold of his hand and place some badly wadded bills into it and you smile. “Play a few extra rounds. Or go across to the diner and get something to eat with your friends.”

“Thank you.” he smiles and leans in for a hug. Those are getting a little rare since he’s hit middle school. You miss it, you really do. The hug lingers and as he pulls away, he smirks. “No funny business with Steve.”

“We’re just going to study, damn it. Why the hell does everyone insist that he likes me or I like him?”

“Because I know you. I know you like him. Besides, that’s why you went on a whole three page tangent about him in your diary the last time you wrote in it. You don’t devote three pages to someone you don’t care about a little, I mean.. C’mon.”

Dustin rushes inside and you pull away, turning around to go back towards the side of town Steve lives on. The whole drive over, you want to kick yourself because the last thing your little brother said to you before he got out of the car won’t leave you alone.

No amount of trying to shove it out of your head helps. At all.

By the time you’re parking in Steve’s driveway behind Steve’s BMW, you’ve managed to convince yourself that he’s definitely not wrong and you definitely feel something but you’re also better off keeping it buried, keeping it locked inside of you because you know there’s no possible way telling him would end in anything besides disaster.

Steve’s leaning in the doorway and when your car pulls to a stop behind his, he can feel his heart flutter a little. He grins to himself and starts to walk down to your car. You take a deep breath, push everything in your head out of it and roll down your window.

“I’m driving. You drive like a bat out of hell, woman.”

“As if!” you answer, pouting a little.

“C’mon.” Steve insists calmly. You grumble, but you get out. You’re forehead to chest with him and you’re giggling to yourself about it while also wanting to kick yourself because you just giggled. Again.

You pull yourself together and look up at him, head tilted. A hand against his chest and he wonders if you’ve realized yet that whenever you do this, you always seem to place your hand in the exact same spot, without fail, every time. Right over his heart. You bite your lip and his eyes fix on the little movement, soft lips.

He wonders what it would be like to kiss them and it’s only the thousandth time today.

“Steeve, c’mon. Grocery store closes in like.. An hour.” you tap your foot and clutch at his shirt a little. “And you’re getting real food. Not the processed shit.”

“Alright, alright. Y’know, I’m doing just fine with this processed shit.”

“Mhm.. Talk to me in fifteen years when you’re in my emergency room with artery problems. Nope, not havin it, sir.” you laugh softly.

“You’re going into medicine?” Steve asks as he adjusts the seat.

Somehow, this didn’t surprise him.

You shrug. “Toyed with it. I mean my mom is a nurse. And it doesn’t take that long to get a license and take the training. I don’t know about doing it though because she’s always working and like… That just doesn’t fit with what I want?”

Steve studies you intently. “What’s that?”

You’re flustered. One, you don’t know how to answer it without sounding like a sap or coming across as weak and dependent, neither of which you happen to believe you are. Two, you’re pretty sure he’ll laugh his ass off at you.

“It’s dumb, alright? Just.. trust me.” you laugh softly.

“It’s probably not that bad.” Steve mumbles, glancing at you as he stops at the sign on the end of his street to look for oncoming traffic. “C’mon.”

“Steve, I’m telling you. It’s dumb.”

“Just say it.” he insists.

“Ugh, fine. Fuck it. One day, I wanna have a family. And nursing is kind of counterintuitive to that. Because I’m not gonna put myself through what my mother has to do to support Dustin and I. There are days when she works back to back and has to miss something either of us has going and I hear her crying at night..” you go quiet and stare out the window, watching houses pass by. You’re waiting on him to laugh, or react in some way, but he doesn’t, at first.

Steve’s watching you out of the corner of his eyes as he drives into town. You’re doing that little thing again where your hands are in your lap and you’re playing with your fingers and the sleeve of your shirt. You’re practically squirming, he can tell that what you’ve just admitted was hard to say, but he can’t think of anything to say because he just keeps hearing what you’ve said over and over in his head. And then there’s all the stuff Tommy and Carol, even Billy, they keep insisting there’s something there and deep down, he knows there is.

The fact that somehow, you want the same thing as he does, he doesn’t know whether to take that as a sign and hold tight now, do whatever it takes to never let go or keep insisting that they’re all wrong and go on the way he is now.

,, you don’t have to have an answer right away, idiot. You’re probably not enough anyway. Your own parents barely come home but what two? Three? Times a year because they can’t be around you?” the thought is sombering but this time… this time, there’s this little sliver of hope that just won’t die like it usually does after his latest round of pessimism and overthinking.

The grocery store parking lot comes into view and he pulls into an empty spot in the back row. By now, you’re pretty sure that your stupid little confession was just too much because something in the air has shifted, the tension is back again and God, it’s thicker, it’s choking almost.

He kills the engine to your car and clears his throat. “Y’know… you don’t have t’ do one or the other.”

“Yeah.” you mumble quietly. “I told you it was dumb.” you’re faking a grin, shrugging as you reach for the door handle on the passenger side. Steve reaches out to grab your wrist, stopping you because he could look at you and tell you were about to bolt and you’d probably never bring up anything personal around him ever again.

You glance back over your shoulder at him. Your eyes dart down to the way that hand of his is wrapped around your wrist gingerly. “Steve, c’mon.”

“It’s not stupid. If that’s what you want, that’s what you want. I-I.. I mean it, okay? It’s not dumb at all.” Steve says it in this quiet and calm tone, almost as if somehow he’s picking up on your embarrassment and he’s trying to fix it when you’re the one who made things embarrassing to start with. You swallow hard and shrug. “Doesn’t matter anyway, right? We’ve gotta wade through the bullshit that is high school first.” you take a deep breath and plaster on a grin that you hope is convincing enough to get him to change the topic and get into the store.

Steve nods. He’s got that calm feeling again. The one he always seems to feel lately whenever he’s around you. He even laughs quietly in agreement while his mind spins out of control over the simple fact that you didn’t say I’ve just gotta wade through the bullshit that is high school but we’ve.

What’s scary as hell and absolutely perfect is just how easily he can sit back and imagine things, a few years down the road… If he can just get himself to do something. Anything.

And then it hits him. Tommy and Carol are right. Billy’s right. Everyone who has been telling him for a while now that there is something there and sooner or later, he won’t be able to fight it anymore, the way they’re always asking him wouldn’t it be worth the risk to at least try..

He’s gotta do something.

And this makes up his mind.

He has to at least try again.

He lets go of your wrist and gets out of the car, locking it before making his way around to where you’re standing, a cart in front of you. Rather than just walk beside you like he probably would have a few minutes before the conversation, he stands behind you, his arms encasing yours, his chest against your back. “I still say the processed shit isn’t that bad because I’m a nightmare in the kitchen.”

You gulp because his cologne is in your nose, his chest is against your back and he’s propped his chin so that his mouth is right next to your ear because of course, he’s slouching… Again. You manage to pull yourself together enough to glance over your shoulder at him and you smile. “We’ll stick to the easy stuff, I promise.” you reach out for a bag of grapes in produce and you’re popping one into your mouth. Steve snickers to himself and mumbles quietly against your ear, “You’re not supposed t’ eat them now.”

“But that’s the fun part.” you pout a little and laughing softly, you hold one up to him. He opens his mouth and you pop the grape into it. “That’s actually not so bad. Haven’t eaten grapes since we were in elementary school.”

When his parents hired the nanny to look after him. The only amount of time he had packed lunches every single day.

His hands just won’t be still. As you push the cart, he stays behind you, but his hands are on your hip when they’re not on the handle of the cart. You’re barely able to focus because of course you’re not and you’re wondering whether maybe, just once, Valerie maybe doesn’t have a point every single time she tells you lately that you and Steve Harrington are so much more than ‘just friends’.

You round the corner after grabbing a few things and you’re wandering down the pasta and sauces aisle, gathering boxes and bottles. After a few more aisles, you realize that it’s nearing when you promised you’d pick your brother up from the arcade and you palm your face. “Shit..”

“What’s up?” and if that husky voice, the warmth of his breath against your ear don’t have you clenching your legs all over again… You laugh softly. “I gotta make a detour on the way back to your house. Told my brother I’d pick him up from the arcade again.” you admit, sheepish. Steve smiles and nods. “He doesn’t like me a lot, does he?”

“Dustin just has to like.. Get used to you.” your sentence trails off and you’re wondering if you’ve just said it all wrong or if it sounded the way it did in your head upon hearing the words leave your mouth -to him. “People, I mean. He has to get used to new people.”

Steve chuckles quietly. That stupid little sliver of hope he keeps battling down grows just a little more. It’s probably the sole reason he feels brave enough to mumble next, “You were fine before. Do I make you nervous or somethin?”

“Nope.” you’re lying, of course. Well, not really. It’s not so much him as what you’re fast starting to come to terms with as far as the way you feel about him. But he doesn’t need to know that, not now, not ever. Because why would he, King of Hawkins High, settle for you when he could probably have anybody he wanted with zero effort involved.

“Liar.” Steve mutters against your ear as you wheel the cart to an open checkout line and start to pile the food onto the conveyor belt to get rung up as best as you can. You laugh softly, meeting his gaze when he holds out a brick of cheese to you. You take it and stick out your tongue. “I’m not.”

“Mhm. Your entire face is as red as the tomatoes you just put up.” pretty brown eyes dance over you as he stands just a little taller and you tilt your head to stare up at him while gulping down yet another lump in your throat.

“Okay, fine. Maybe a little, but it’s not in a bad way or anything, alright? It’s just… Me. I’m a little awkward if you haven’t noticed, Steve. It’s not so much you as it is me.” you go quiet because you were rambling and now, oh god.. Now you’re blushing so much worse and your shoes have suddenly become the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Until he reaches out, tilting your chin so you have to look at him. You laugh, sheepish.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Steve chuckles to himself quietly because this whole thing is making him realize that yes, he really does need to do something.

The sooner the better.

– ( picking Dustin up from the arcade )

“Your sister is here. Steve is driving her car, too.” Mike informs Dustin and Dustin shakes his head and laughs. “Nobody drives her car but her.”

“Mike’s not wrong.” Will turns away from the door of the arcade, “Steve Harrington is driving her car.”

Dustin grumbles to himself. Mike nudges him. “That’s one of the signs, man. I’m telling you, she likes him.”

“So? Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I mean, he seemed okay when he was talking to us outside that afternoon.”

Mike rolls his eyes.

Dustin rolls his eyes. Mike takes forever to warm up to new people and so far, the only exception to that rule is standing to the right of him and her name is Eleven. Lucas speaks up with a laugh. “If he’s always around when she’s doing clumsy stuff, maybe it’s a good thing. He’s not that bad, Mike.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I need to get Eleven home now. I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow, right?” Mike asks as he and Eleven start to walk over to the door, stopping halfway to look back.

“Same place we always meet up.” Lucas answers. Will nods in agreement. Will spots Jonathan and Nancy sitting in Jonathan’s car, waiting to pick him up. “Jonathan is here. Just a heads up, Nance is with him..” Will goes quiet, gazing out the door in mild concern because he really doesn’t want any problems.

He’s relieved when he sees that his brother and Nancy are still in his brother’s car and you and Steve are still in your Trans Am two cars in front of it. “I’ll probably be late in the morning, I think Jonathan is picking up Nancy too.” he tells them before saying a final goodbye and as he’s going out the door, Dustin sees Gia catch up to him.

“The hell is she up to?” Dustin wonders to himself as Lucas nudges him. “Whatever it is, Will’s got some serious deer in the headlight eyes right now. Just don’t worry about it, man. Y’know how Gia is. She’ll be mad and pout for a while but she always starts talking to you again.”

“I can’t believe my first impulse when she was going to kiss me was to squeak and run like an idiot.” Dustin grumbles, shaking his head. “I panicked, you know how she is! One minute we’re talking and I’m showing her that new ham radio and the next, she’s leaning against me and looking up at me funny.”

Lucas snickers and Max shakes her head. “She likes you, idiot.”

“Yeah, alright, okay. I get that but she could be a little more.. Subtle.” but then Dustin stops to think. Subtlety is not Gia’s forte, the same is it isn’t her older sister’s forte.

Will rushes out the door and Lucas glances at Max. “You should go see if Billys’ waitin.”

“I really don’t want to.” Max grumbles, pouting up at him. Lucas laughs. “C’mon, I’ll walk to the door too, okay?”

Max nods.

Dustin grabs his leftover tickets and he’s about to pocket them when he happens to look up on the top shelf and see a leopard.

Gia likes leopard anything.

Loves it.

Has a leopard print jacket that’s real soft. Big leopard print hoops she wears all the time. Dustin clears his throat and gets Keith’s attention. “Hey, that leopard. It’s really 100 points, right?”

Keith takes down the stuffed animal and looks, scoffing. “Try adding another zero, kid.”

A throat clears from behind him. Dustin turns to find Steve standing there, chuckling. “No way in hell that leopard is 1000 points, Keith. Just give it to the kid. C’mon, man. It’s probably for his sister or some girl. Do you really want to stand in the way of him giving a gift?”

“1000 tickets.”

“How about 100 tickets and,” Steve digs around in his pocket. “Fifty bucks?”

Keith grumbles and shoves the leopard at Dustin and Dustin gives Steve Harrington a grateful smile. Steve chuckles and shrugs it off.

“Who were you giving it to?” Steve asks, waiting on an answer. Dustin spots Gia over by the dartboard and nudges Steve to get his attention. “Her. I kind of messed up earlier this week…” Dustin trailed off. Steve gazed at the little brunette in bell bottoms, a fuzzy leopard jacket and a Led Zeppelin shirt as she suck popped a gum bubble and he laughed quietly. “Go on and give it to her. We’ve gotta get going.”

Dustin shuffles over and taps Gia on her shoulder. But she’s got the headphones to her Walkman on, so he slips one off of her ear. “Hey.”

Gia turns to look at him and she is pouting, but then he pulls the leopard from behind his back. “T-there. I gotta go. I’m sorry, okay?”

“It’s okay, Dusty.” she wanted to say it to his face but as habit, he’s bolted before she can even get the words out. She grins and giggles, holding the stuffed leopard against her tight.

“We’ll name you Dusty.”

Outside in the car, you’re flipping through the radio, until you hear a Metallica song playing faintly and you stop on the station. You’ve just started to drum your hand against the dash and bang your head a little when Steve and Dustin appear out of nowhere, both of them snickering at you. You frown at both of them and get out so Dustin can climb into the backseat.

“What were you doing, Dustin?”

“I uh.. Tried to win Gia something, okay?”

You laughed and reached back, fluffing his hair. “Hey. Knock it off.” he grumbles. Then he nods to Steve. “He’s driving diablo. You never let anyone drive Diablo.”

Your mouth opens and closes with your cheeks burning hot. “Untrue! Mom did!”

“Yeah and immediately said she was never going to again. Your car is like the one in that Stephen King book, sis.”

“Yeah? Well he’s behaved just fine for Steve.”

“You named your car?” Steve is trying not to die laughing as he pulls away from the arcade. “And why diablo, huh?”

“Because… I helped rebuild the motor this summer and when it was finished finally, I took it out for a drive and immediately had to fix the transmission too.. I was pissed, it was two am when my uncle and I finished that and I was high as shit. It seemed like a good idea at the time… Tell me your BMW isn’t named, Steve…”

“Well no..” Steve scoffs.

“Bullshit.” Dustin insists.

“Okay, alright. Baby girl.”

“Seriously? Baby girl? And you’re giving me shit about choosing to name my car diablo, Harrington?” you sull up and cross your arms, shaking your head as you laugh it off.

“Diablo.” Steve snorts, shaking his head as he turns at the corner. “Are we taking you home or do you wanna come to my place, kid?”

Dustin mulls it over.

You glance back at him, waiting. “It’s completely fine, Dustin. I mean, Mom is going to be gone most of the night again, kid… I can make something for you to eat.”

“We went across to the diner. If you don’t mind..” Dustin trails off and grins. “Screw it. I’ll come with you guys.”

You smile and seeing you smile makes Steve smile to himself when he glances over to see you.

“So you lose your reading glasses and name vehicles when you’re high. What else do you do?” Steve asks, mostly in teasing. Dustin laughs. “She sits outside in that big tree next to her window. I keep sayin it’s a miracle she hasn’t got the giggles and fallen out yet. Oh and one time, she made macaroni at three in the morning and fucking dragged me out of bed to eat it.”

“It was good though!”

“I mean, it was still three am, gremlin.”

“Ah fuck you both.” you stick your tongue out and pretend to pout about them making fun of you.

“You got my pudding cups, right?” Dustin asks.

“Duh.” you grin. “I promised, did I not?”

“Well yeah, but I thought you’d be preoccupied and forget.”

You flip him off.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x henderson!fem reader #steve harrington x reader imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader imagine

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syneilesis · 4 months

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[fic] 10:47 PM

10:47 PM

The Boy Next Door | Eun Jeongwan x Main Character (Reader) | Explicit | 3.3k words | ao3 link

Eun Jeongwan spends the night in your place. What happens then is hardly surprising.

Content tags: kissing, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, hand jobs, gratuitous use of the word noona, one Notting Hill (1999) reference

A/N: I don't know what possessed me to write this. At the time my thought process was: I like this webtoon, then Oh, 1st-person POV MC, where the reader is the MC, I like it, then Eun Jeongwan is so cute, I want him, then finally, I want to write smut of Eun Jeongwan. I'm sorry I have sinned.

This fic is based on the webtoon, The Boy Next Door. It's about a college student who reunited with her childhood neighbor, Eun Jeongwan, who's carried a torch for her the entire time despite immigrating abroad. The one-shot just portrays their spending time together, until the end when Eun Jeongwan asks her out. It's cute, Jeongwan's cute, I need more webtoons (1st-person POV) like this. You can read the raws here. The series is actually an anthology, so make sure to click the chapter titles with this text: [일] 정완과 as this is Eun Jeongwan's chapters.

Well, I don't what else to say. I don't think anybody would read this lmao. But if you're reading this, thank you 😂

For quick reference, this is what Eun Jeongwan looks like:

It's been a couple of months since you accepted Eun Jeongwan's confession. His sincerity touched your heart, and that little flutter inside your ribcage had not gone unnoticed when he intimated that he had never forgotten you—not even when he was in another country, living his own life there. That train ride home, with his large hand on yours, and his whispers of affection, his You were in my mind every day, noona. He was all so cute, but also charming, and even just to yourself, you admit that you're swept away.

And now, he's right in front of you, your boyfriend. Jeongwan. That button-nosed little kid who lived next to you, replaced by this tall, well-built, beautiful specimen of a man. Still cute, though.

And still calls you noona.

Not that it bothers you. It's actually cute, like him. And every time that deep voice shapes the word—noo-na—something tingles inside you, from the base of your spine, slithering upwards, rests upon your ears, where they gather heat, and something else.

“Are you even listening to me, noona?”

You snap out of it, and finally focus on Jeongwan, who's bent over, peering up at you in a way that you want to squish his cheeks and ruffle his hair. His eyes are set wide like a cat begging for scrumptious food, and you can't deny him for it. So you smile at him and say, “I'm sorry, what were you saying?”

He pouts, cute little thing. “I was saying—” He casts his gaze down, coy all of a sudden, before flicking it back to you. “Can I spend the night at your place?”

All your organ systems shut down, frozen immobile at his request. His expectant expression wrinkles as if you'd turn him down—and would you? Does he know what he's asking of you? What the implications of his words are?

The only thing you can say in return is, “Why?”

There's a sweep of redness across his face, dusty yet vivid. He brings both his forefingers together. “Well … Since we're already dating, I just want to spend more and more time with my noona.”

My noona. Heavens above, there's only so much self-control you can manage.

“I … see.” You're inwardly grateful that your voice doesn't sound strangled. “Okay. Okay. Do we have to stop by yours to bring something?”

He thinks about it. “Or we could meet here in two hours? I'll cook you omelette rice again tonight.”

“All right. See you then.”

He's waving goodbye as he jogs backwards. There's a coffee shop near the corner where you can spend the rest of your free time waiting for him. While you're giving your order to the barista, your mind drifts to Jeongwan and the night that will come later, and you hope that things go smoothly, for your sake.

Jeongwan does make you omelette rice, and it's as delicious, if not more, as the first time you tasted his cooking. He beams like he's won the lottery when you tell him this. Afterwards, you watch a movie in the living room. You've given him free rein of the film choice, content with sitting beside him and going along for the ride. As he scrolls through the list of options, Jeongwan's eyes keep flicking over to you, as though waiting for your feedback. But you don't react; you just let him decide for the both of you.

In the end, he settles for a romantic comedy, which earns a pleasantly surprised hum from you. “I didn't expect you to pick this one out, but all right,” you say.

“I was also thinking of you while I'd been deciding,” he replies, and you resist the urge to hug him. “Do you like what I chose, noona?”

“Of course! Now let's relax and enjoy the movie.”

The film Jeongwan played is about an unassuming bookshop owner and a world-famous actress falling in love. Before you know it, you're invested in the story. The male and female leads have chemistry, and the dramatic moments are gripping, yet still entertaining. You almost don't notice the weight of Jeongwan's head flopping onto the base of your neck.

“Hmm?” You tilt your head a bit, aiming for a glance at his face. It's obscured by his hair, but the downward direction of his long eyelashes hint of sleepiness. You smile to yourself and raise a hand to guide his head into a more comfortable position, taking care not to disturb him too much. He sighs, and his puff of breath is warm on your exposed skin.

With that kind of response from you, Jeongwan interprets it as a green light to become bolder. Not even a few minutes have passed and he shifts, wrapping his arms around your waist. His face buries itself further into your neck, his lashes, nose, and lips brushing against you.

“Jeongwan?”

He only groans in reply, nuzzling, then releases a contented sigh.

You let him, thinking that he's probably more tired than expected. And he's behaved himself afterwards. But as the film's climax unfolds, you feel a soft, ticklish sensation on your neck—one that raises goosebumps along your skin.

He's placing butterfly kisses along the column of your neck, up and down, up and down, and then he stops just below your ear. Inhales once, then nips at the skin there. A prickly yet pleasant sensation blooms, and a low sound escapes from your throat.

“Jeongwan?”

He hums. He nibbles at your earlobe, warm, moist exhales heating the side of your face, and it tingles your ear, causing you to flinch away. His arms around you tighten, trapping you. He moans, and something in you cracks.

“What are you doing, Jeongwan?” Your voice is breathy, but at least you've managed to speak without stammering.

“Noona,” he says—no, whines. He's talking against your skin, so you can also feel the words reverberate across your heating body. “Noona,” he repeats, “I want to be closer to you.”

From this lack of distance, you can smell his shampoo. Surprisingly enough, it's floral-scented, and the cologne he's using has woody notes with a hint of lavender. All unexpected, but not unwelcome. It makes you wonder, sometimes, whether Jeongwan does this to entice you further to him. You don't want to tell him he's succeeding.

“We're already close though?”

“But I want more. Closer. More.” Jeongwan makes a show of inhaling your skin. Then he tilts his face so you can see the sparkle in his mischievous eyes. “You smell so good, noona.”

The credits start to roll, and you miss the ending. But that's hardly your immediate concern right now. In fact, your gaze has never left Jeongwan since he's stolen your attention from the film. The movie's ending song has become background noise, and Jeongwan's increasingly heavy breaths occupy your hearing as every second ticks by.

“Do you …” You hesitate, biting your lip, and Jeongwan's eyes fall to your mouth. He's so obvious with his desires, his wants; has always been. You still remember the playful bite he gave your finger when you two spent the night at a hotel. He was never secretive of his attraction to you.

And it's because of his boldness that you shed your worries and go for it.

“Jeongwan, what do you want to do tonight?”

He jolts at that, caught off-guard by the question. He's probably used to your digressions whenever he articulates his attachment to you, but now that you're addressing it, he flounders, a momentary shock to his system.

Regardless, you still want everything to be clear and certain, because after this there's no going back.

“I want to—” he begins. Swallows. Tries again. “I want to … touch … you, noona. I want to touch noona.”

You exhale, mustering strength. “Okay. Okay. I want to touch you too, Jeongwan. I'm going to touch you.”

He shoots up from his slouched position, suddenly awake. Very awake. He nods vigorously at your response. “Yes, yes, please touch me, noona. Go ahead.”

He's blushing all over. Red as if he's been out under the sun for too long. When you lean forward, to him, and caress your knuckles down his cheek, his whole body shivers, his sand-colored eyes wide and locked onto your own.

You press into him. Shoulder to shoulder. Chest to chest. Groin to groin. You feel him harden against you, and you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth.

Your face is centimeters away from him. This close, you can count the lashes on his eyes. They're so pretty, just like everything about him. “I'll kiss you now, Jeongwan.”

His entire body shakes with anticipation. He reclines on the couch, taking you with him, and breathes, “Okay,” and you waste no time to align your lips with his.

He makes a sound when you come into contact. Like a thirsty man offered water for the first time in a long while. His lips are full, plump, and soft, the sort that feel good to nibble and toy with. So you do: tug his lower lip with your teeth. Gentle, tentative. The hitching moan that slips out of him ignites your blood, and you tug his lip harder before you press again, then try to pry open his mouth.

“Noo—” he tries to say in between the kiss, but the opportunity presents itself: you slip your tongue in, one of your hands capturing his jaw, cradling it for control.

Jeongwan gasps, shuddering at every moment your tongue touches his. At one point you suck it, and unbidden his hips buck, his cock straining prominently in his jeans.

“Noona, wait—” he tries again, hands clinging to your shoulders. A trickle of saliva lines down his chin, and you give in to your crazy thought: lean down and lick the drool back up, kissing him again, open-mouthed and wanton in your movements. Jeongwan sighs loudly—almost a whine; you moan in response. He sounds like music to your ears: innocent yet eager, wanting to please. Unrestrained with his reactions—just the thing that you like. “Noona, please.”

You pull back to study him: chest heaving, lips kiss-bitten and swollen, red red red like a blush. Face aflame. Your scrutiny proceeds downward and stops at the impressive bulge between his legs. You're straddling Jeongwan, and it occurs to you that it's so easy to move just a tiny bit and feel that thing against you. Sneaking a glance at his face and finding his half-mast gaze on your own, mouth parted, gulping lungfuls of air—the epitome of sublime debauchery.

Another crazy thought: you hold his gaze as you scoot back, lowering your head to his crotch. You can see in his widening eyes the dawning thought of your next move.

“Noona, wait wait wait—”

You bring your wet, hungry, parted lips to the head of his clothed cock.

His body jerks as if electrocuted, a sob emerging deep within him. His left hand shoots to grab the back of your head, and your own hand responds by gripping his wrist, ready to control the limb in case he does something that might derail your plan. You continue to mouth his erection, pulsing underneath the layers of fabric in between. Above you, Jeongwan whines and sobs in alternating fashion; gasps your name so loudly you're thankful that you live alone in the apartment. He's yanking at your hair—not too strongly, but the dull ache registers into pleasure, so you let him do it a little more.

Jeongwan calls your name again, the crack in his voice deliciously crisp that you groan around his length—which elicits another broken whine from him.

“If you keep this up, noona,” he pants, “I'm not going to last long.”

That makes you pause, retreating slightly—which also drags a groan out of him, hips chasing your heat.

“Do you—” you begin, voice husky and wet. “Do you not like it?”

Jeongwan straightens up at that. Gasps a little when the movement jostles his aching cock. “I do like it! I love it! I just …” His expression crumples in distress. “I want to make you feel good too …”

“Oh,” you say eloquently, mouth hung open. You glance down at yourself. So focused on Jeongwan's pleasure that you fail to realize that you're aching and dripping. And to think, you're both still fully clothed. The fact makes you laugh a little.

“Noona?”

You smile at him, so fond, so very fond. “Jeongwan. Jeongwan. Seeing you feel good makes me feel good, too. Come here, feel it.”

You bring the hand you're still latching onto, underneath your skirt, between your legs, and the moment Jeongwan's hand comes into contact with your soaked panties, you both jerk—a moan flying out of your lips.

“Noona, you're …” He tests a touch: slides a finger across your panties, right over your slit. You shut your eyes and shudder, sighs spilling out of you. The hand on his wrist tightens. “Oh …” he breathes.

“S-See?” you say, forcing your eyes open and meeting his gaze full of wonder.

“I …” He stumbles, takes a steadying breath, starts again. “Noona, I like you so much.” And he kisses you, tongue pushing and thrusting and he kisses like he's wanted to kiss you all his life, all thirst and hunger, the boiling point of his years-long-kept want.

His finger keeps stroking your slit, and you're already a mess: trembling legs and hips, sloppy kisses, weakening resolve. It comes to a head when Jeongwan's fingernail catches the swell of your clit, and you cry out against the corner of his mouth. He does it again, and again, and again, rubbing the hard nub until your face is wet with tears and drool. Jeongwan watches you unravel, his shallow breaths tickling your already-sensitive skin.

“You're so pretty, noona. So beautiful, so pretty … My pretty noona.”

Without warning, a finger tugs aside your panties and unfurls its narrow length across your cunt, dipping shallowly inside, and the direct contact sparks fireworks all over.

“Jeong—wan…!”

Not wanting to lose—even though this isn't a competition—you push past the overwhelming pleasure to unzip his jeans. You ignore his stuttering gasp, grabbing the band of his boxers and wrenching down, freeing his aching, leaking cock.

Red and huge and pretty and desperately in need of your touch, his cock is. You waste no time indulging it, indulging him, and his answering quiver and cry feed into your own pleasure. You give his erection a couple of pumps before pouring attention to the head, your thumb pressing into his slit.

“A-ahh, haa, noona, noona—”

In retaliation, Jeongwan presses his own thumb against your clit and slips his middle finger inside you.

“You're—tight—”

“Jeongwan,” you sigh, keeping your strokes rhythmic, and soon enough, Jeongwan's hips meet your movements.

Then he pushes another finger.

Your parted mouth on his skin crawls upward, to his ear, where you nip and nibble and suck. You lick the hole on his lobe, then bite at the flesh. When it leaves an indent, you move slightly downward and suck a hickey behind the ear. Jeongwan reflexively winces, and it's followed with a groan, and the fingers inside you curl and heat bursts at your core, spreading outwards like oil, viscous and thick.

Earlier, when he asked you to let him spend the night in your apartment, you had an inkling that something like this would happen. But the expectation is a little different from reality, the now. In your head, the scenario progresses more gently: you and Jeongwan on your bed, he reclined and you straddling him, guiding him patiently to your pleasure and his wide-eyed innocence slipping shut, your name tumbling out of his mouth in profuse sighs. But here, this: you and Jeongwan on your couch, he sat upright and you astride him, partially clothed, touching each other in frantic strokes, wet and drooling and burning desire all over, loud in your need for each other. It's baser, but in truth that's what you prefer—the uncontrollable overflowing, a waterfall, making a mess of each other.

After passing an invisible threshold, both your paces speed up, and Jeongwan increasingly gasps your name like a mantra. He's babbling, sprinkling phrases like so good and the best and my noona and yes, there, more in between. His cock pulses like it's ready to spill, pre-come smearing at your inner forearm.

“I'm going to come,” he slurs, catching you in another open-mouthed kiss. The hand between your legs is working harder as well, and you gasp in answer:

“Me too. Let's—ah—come together.”

“Y-Yeah … Oh, noona—”

You shift the angle of your caress and at the same time, using your free hand, slip under his shirt and drag your nails across his nipple. He cries out in response, a full-body jerk that derails the pace of his touch inside you. As a result his fingers hook something that makes you bowl over, and the thumb on your clit presses enough pressure to tip you over the edge, and you wail as white-hot waves crash over you, unstoppable in its intensity. Jeongwan keeps touching you, rubbing and pumping until your orgasm tides over. His eyes never leave your wracked-out form, absorbed by the bliss-out look on your face. He almost forgets that he's near the edge himself.

When you remember yourself, Jeongwan kisses you, cradles your body, lowers you in his lap, uncaring of the mess that's dripping between your legs.

“Oh,” you mumble, “sorry. Let me finish you—”

You resume stroking him, and gradually the pleasure takes over Jeongwan's face and whole body. Soon enough he's shaking and trembling and it's such a sight to see. You lightly scratch at his chest, and when he groans at that, you pinch one of his nipples.

His euphoria fills you with such satisfaction.

You don't stop your ministrations, and in mere seconds, Jeongwan repeatedly chants, “I'm coming. Noona, I'm coming. I'm going to come. I'm going to—”

He comes with a long, drawn-out cry, broken in places, loud in others. His spill reaches across your chest, soaking your damp shirt even further. His head falls onto the junction between your neck and shoulder, energy sapped by his climax.

You retrieve your hand and study the come splattered across your forearm—and mindlessly take a lick. Eyes following your movements, Jeongwan sees the moment your tongue sweeps the fluid off your skin and he groans, presses further into the crook of your neck.

“Noona,” he whines, glaring at you. “Don't do that! You're going to make me hard again!”

You glance at him, sly. “And that's a bad thing because…?”

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then it clicks. He reddens all over again, disbelief and embarrassment brightening his expression.

“At least let me catch my breath first!” He pouts, and you're overcome with the urge to bite at his lower lip again. “And savor the feeling, you know? I made my noona feel good, I'm so proud of myself.”

And now it's you who's embarrassed. Looking away, you clear your throat to move on from the topic. “Well, let's clean up first before continuing in the bedroom.”

Jeongwan shoots up at that, excited all of a sudden. “Got it, noona!” He stands, and you admire the speed with which he moves as if he hadn't just nutted furiously seconds ago. “Stay there, I'll get a washcloth.” Midway through, he pauses and throws you a coy look. “Later, I want you to be on top of me, noona. I like that, I love watching you enjoy me.”

And he walks on as though he hasn't upended your entire world from a few words alone.

#nsft #i just need an eun jeongwan of my own lmao #the boy next door webtoon #webtoon fanfic #webtoon fic #eun jeongwan x reader #eun jeongwan x mc #fic #my fic

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booksandabeer · 11 months

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Thank you for tagging me, @somanywords. I love doing these! 💛😘💛

last song: Christine and the Queens - Tears can be so soft

last show: Transatlantic - finally finished it last week and really enjoyed it. (Fictionalized versions of) Max Ernst, Hannah Arendt, Marc Chagall, et al., and a bunch of sexy queer spies/diplomats/resistance fighters hanging out at a dilapidated French Château in 1940, while they're waiting to get out of Europe? It's like someone made a show just for me!

last movie: Air. It’s an entertaining, very competently made movie with a great soundtrack (seriously, what kind of music budget did they have for this?). But in the end, it's a movie about a shoe. At the climax, Matt Damon gives a big rousing speech, and every second of it I could tell I’m supposed to be very moved and inspired by it, but, honestly, I had to laugh. Because, again, it’s about a corporation, it's about a shoe, it's about rich people getting even richer (the actual interesting part, how the Air Jordan deal opened up a whole new business model for student athletes is treated as an afterthought). So. The production design and set decoration are fantastic, Ben Affleck is very funny (and wears great costumes) and Viola Davis—as always—transcends the material she's given. Still. It's a movie about a shoe.

currently watching: Yellowjackets. Haven't seen the latest episode yet, but I'm very much looking forward to watching it tonight.

currently reading: Sadly, not much. I have like 10 books on my nightstand but…yeah. Bit of fic here and there (mostly re-reads or shorter works), but I haven’t really had the time for anything longer, which is also why haven't posted any rec lists lately. 😿 Hey, but did read 90 pages of a study called "Google vs the Library" for work today. Does that count?😬

current obsession: Steve, Bucky, SteveandBucky, as always. Also, the works of William Eggleston, for reasons...

I'm always so late with these things, so I have no idea who's already done it. So please anybody who wants to, I love hearing about the things you enjoy! Also, no pressure-tagging: @burninblood, @tessabennet, @elliquinn, @thisonesatellite, and @voylitscope.

#about me #ask game

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seasurfacefullofclouds1 · 2 years

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tumblr suggests me larry/harry stuff because of "based on your louis tomlinson likes" lol and I came across this posted talking about harry being a victim of the greedy eyes of the industry since the begging based on the interview that kid guy that writes with harry did for RS recently, I think you mentioned it here a few times. I went to read because there were some mixed posts about it and like the dude is really obcessed with the success surrounding harry, he says it in every sentence and some other weird stuff like "harry's album has a feminine energy" wtf does that means??? (food for the crazy ones call him womarry) he basically says it's all "an inspiration" when it's just copies lol it's crazy how everyone around him is so shallow and bland but cary themselves like the chosen ones, it's hollywood juice, just big egos. So I got the context and went to read the posts under his (kid's) tag here and let me tell you, at this point I don't know who's more delusional harries or larries, but the point that got my attention is how this kid talked about "stunts" multiple times and larries that almost crucified louis said things like "he said some annoying things in the past but it's a good article" people like that twopoppies (?) there was never a talk about sabotage when it's harry, they genuinely care about his music career and that he's a poor soul or does what he has to because it's a business world. They know he was in talks to get out of one direction since day one almost lol but they don't care and it makes me so angry not because I care about this dude but because they never treat louis like this, they sabotage his career even when they don't explicit plan to, they're hard on him, cruel with his family and friends but they don't let go of him, every year they treat him worst but never let go, I want them to finally let louis be free from this freak show because he's the only one being hurt, even with shitty promo I genuinely believe louis would be in a better place on every aspect if these people just forget about him

Me as your ask, anon.

Louis’ fanbase is so fucking callous and cruel with Louis, despite knowing every single tragedy he’s been through, and despite knowing how long he has waited to come into his own.

Some Larries make it all about THEM?? Which is not only egotistical and selfish, but borderline narcissistic— and they have “fans”?? Like there are actually Larries who like certain Big Larries more than they like Louis, which is absolutely fucking crazy to me.

But look around, and it’s not only one or two Larries, it’s a bunch of them chasing clout and posting Louis ONLY for Larry and ONLY to keep their status.

Yes, they absolutely paint Harry as a dumb victim unable to free himself, and yes, they absolutely support every aspect of his career, from investments to dynamic pricing to datamining to Kardashian friendships etc etc. Every means to an end.

And yes! They absolutely go to Louis concerts ONLY to prove their theories.

But as soon as anybody argues with them, they scream “Anti!” and “Rad!” like liars backed against a wall of logic.

My magic wish is that Larries all experience a love exactly like they think Harry and Louis have right now, in their personal lives; they all want so badly to self-insert as Louis in their fics— I hope their real lives are exactly like that.

#larries

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cerriddwenluna · 1 year

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I’ve been reading your fic reviews. You seem very positive. Are there any trope you don’t like? Or any things in fic that you don’t like reading? Got any specific thing that would put you off reading?

First of, thank you for reading the reviews! The main point of @the-lima-bean's Theme Days is to rec the fics that people send in, but I like to write my own little (or not so little) reviews to go with them on Tuesdays and Fridays for as long as I have the time to do so. I won't always be able to do that, but for now I'm having fun with it :)

I'm always happy to talk about my interests, so this is became a very long post, and most of the answers are under the cut ;)

I do always try to find the positivity in everything I do, including reading and reviewing fic. That is not to say that there are never things I dislike or that bother me in what I read, but with all the negativity that is already out in the world, I don't want to contribute to that if I can help it.

That being said, yes. There are definitely things that I don't like reading. Mpreg, for one is a trope that I just can't wrap my mind around. Dystopian or hybrid fics are also things that I tried, but just can't get into. Anything to do with non con between the (main) characters (human or otherwise) is a no for me as well, but I can sometimes stomach it if it is part of the plot that something like that happens in someone's story arc (non-graphic).

Incest of any kind will never get more than a cursory glance. Slavery fics are usually fairly dark and have a high measure of non/dub con, so those are often a hit and miss, and something that I have been debating on recently actually.

Also, zombies. I can tolerate almost every supernatural creature, and I quite enjoy a good vampire fic every now and then, but zombies freak me out. Same with anything that could classify as (supernatural) horror. If it's too scary for Scooby Doo, it's too scary for me.

Another thing that seriously bums me out is if a fic is tagged with my OTP (Klaine for Glee, obviously, but I also read in other fandoms), and the fic then does not have them as endgame.

I also refuse to read Real Person Fiction where real people are the main (romantic) focus. I don't judge anybody who reads or writes it, but I simply don't feel comfortable with it, so I avoid it.

There are squicks I filter out when dealing with sexually explicit fics, but I won't go into detail about those lol.

Now, as for the technical stuff, WIPs are a thing I struggle with. I want to be able to support writers during their writing process, but the suspense is not something I'm good with and I tend to mostly read completed fics as a result. If I find a WIP I like the look of, sometimes I'll subscribe to it and wait until it's finished and read it then.

I am far less picky with completed fics, however. There are, of course, always fics that are so badly written that I just can't make it through, but in general I try to give everything that catches my eye a fair chance even if it would never win a Pulitzer Prize . I also always leave kudos when I have read at least half a fic, even if something happens later on that makes me nope out.

I've always seen kudos as a message to the author that I acknowledge and appreciate the time and effort they put into writing the fic even if it wasn't my thing or if I have to nope out for personal reasons, whereas bookmarks are for the things I want to keep track of having read (which are most fics I finish).

I've only recently been able to get over parts of my social anxiety and found my voice for commenting, so there are many, many fics that I have read and not commented on, but I am trying to rectify that with the fics I (re)read now.

My mood is a very important factor in what I read and when. If I feel good and strong, I can deal with an angsty fic much easier, and if my depression is lurking again (or if I just want to keep feeling happy and light-hearted), I will search out the fluffier fics.

So, to conclude: Yes, there are many things I can or will not read, but I try to give almost everything fair consideration, and it is mostly dependent on my mood what I read at any given moment.

#ask and ye shall be answered #tl;dr Positivity = Yes. Zombies = No.#about me #long post #Thanks for the ask Nonny!#♡

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thel0v3hashira143 · 1 year

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I posted 1,248 times in 2022

That's 680 more posts than 2021!

164 posts created (13%)

1,084 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@harriyanna

@naoseven

@sukibenders

@canis-licro1ce

I tagged 922 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#words of the love hashira 💗 - 228 posts

#sage..txt♥ - 108 posts

#demon slayer x reader - 43 posts

#this!!! - 41 posts

#100 follower special ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ - 40 posts

#appearance matchups - 38 posts

#jjk x reader - 33 posts

#aot x reader - 31 posts

#haikyuu x reader - 28 posts

#tokyo revengers x reader - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 113 characters

#lowkey ymir since we have the same sense of humor and i dress how i feel like how modern au! historia would dress

My Top Posts in 2022:

First Heartbreak

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕄𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕌𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕙𝕒 𝕩 𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕦!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟝𝟚𝟟 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕒𝕟𝕕 [ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖] 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜.

𝔸/𝕟: 𝔸𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 @sleepysnk #𝕊𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕊𝕠𝕝𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕖𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥! 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟'𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕒 <𝟛 𝕀 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕗 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕪 𝕒𝕤𝕤 😀. 𝕀𝕗 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕀'𝕞 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 😭💀 𝕊𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕘𝕖.

See the full post

108 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

i am 🤏🏽🤏🏽🤏🏽🤏🏽 this fucking close to making my own insta blurbs w/ a black faceclaim because i’m tired of not seeing people who look like me

lemme know if y’all want something like this for harry styles or any other celebs

121 notes - Posted August 17, 2022

Hashira as things me and my friends have said: Part 2!!!

Read Part 1 Here!: https://thel0v3hashira143.tumblr.com/post/679102928297050112/hashira-as-things-me-and-my-friends-have-said

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tengen: *Standing in front of Iguro*

Iguro: Why does it look like he has a butt tumor?

Sanemi: For real- why does it look lumpy?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mitsuri: Me, delusional? How am I delusional?

Shinobu: You're delusional because you think you can actually believe that Iguro will like you back.

Mitsuri: I- *cries*

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanemi: *Walks up behind Gyomei* Sup

Gyomei: Don't scare me like that.

Sanemi: Why'd you clench up?

Gyomei: I wasn't tryna get stolen from. Always stay alert.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mitsuri: *tying giyuu's hair into pigtails*

Rengoku: Bitches can't even spell inches. It's givin bOooOOoody ✨✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obanai: Mitsuri is so hot omfg

Ubuyashiki: *standing behind him* ...

Obanai: *fucking dies*

Tengen: Personally if that were me, I'd never let my teacher catch me lacking like that

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gyomei: Look how many snacks I had to bag for the kids

Muchiro: SNAK 👹

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giyuu: Does anybody know when the history homework is due?

Shinobu: Shut the fuck up you abortion

~~~~~~~~~~~~

See the full post

171 notes - Posted May 22, 2022

Hashira as things me and my friends have said

Mitsuri: Why are you wearing that chain? Is it for the aesthetic?

Sanemi: My dog died. That was his leash

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Muchiro: *draws a picture of him and giyuu*

Giyuu: Why am I sad?

Muchiro: You're always sad, I was just trying to capture that

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mitsuri: Obanai tho 👀

Shinobu: His head is literally lopsided

Mitsuri: wtf

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyojuro: You've got a dead people fetish

Tengen: It's not a fetish. They're just so hot they had to die

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanemi: I got a piece of gum for valentines day, what'd you get?

Kyojuro: I got a cake and balloons!

Sanemi: How fun

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giyuu: *Shakes his head*

Mitsuri: The bob is bobbin 💁🏽‍♀️

Shinobu: What's your name B.o.B so they callin you Bob, bob, bob 💁🏽‍♀️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gyomei: My moustache is bigger than yours, Sanemi

Muchiro: Yeah, it is- Wait. You have a moustache?

Gyomei: I've had it for years

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyojuro: Hey Obanai!

Obanai: Hey!

Obanai: I fucking hate that bitch

See the full post

356 notes - Posted March 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

to all the black writers that have been writing eddie munson/steve harrington x black!reader (and feeding my obsession for the past week) y'all are doing the lord's work thank y'all 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

417 notes - Posted June 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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scuttling · 3 years

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(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

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