#and those green tones on the face? *chefs kiss* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quinloki · 11 months

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Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: Dealer's Choice (afab!reader) Character: Thatch Kink: #2 Praise Kink Prompt: Dealer's Choice (I winged it and oh... oh my gods.) Gift Giver: @khadoxofthemlems

Summary: Is it possible to have a praise-war between you and your new beau? Most certainly.

Content Notes: I... I don't know. Incorrect use of icing. implied smut. It's really sweet and also like, WHEW.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

“Your icing work is so pretty!” You had beamed a few weeks ago, watching Thatch decorate the birthday cake for the month. He’d squeezed the tube too hard, red in the face and completely off-guard, and it had been how the two of you ended up getting closer together.

Thatch wooed you like an old man, and you teased him for it, but the intent was adorable. He’d bring you flowers from the islands, or make icing flowers around the edges of your food. You’d tug his scarf when no one else was nearby and steal a kiss, causing his face to go red again.

Everyone teased Thatch more than you, but the chef seemed to revel in it. The sea dog was a romantic at heart, and he loved all the praises you lavished on him.

After your first night together, a quiet evening of searching hands and soft kisses and hours of worship between the two of you, Thatch asked if he could do something self-indulgent. You agreed, and agreed a second time when he said it would have to happen in the galley.

Now you’re sitting on wax paper laid out over a table, naked and smiling as Thatch is making icing-flowers around you. His ears are red as you’ve already started praising his work.

“At least now I understand why your hands were so steady on our first night.” You muse softly as you watch him work. “And so… precise.” You say pointedly and watch Thatch’s fingers twitch.

This time he manages to keep his cool and not squeeze half the icing onto the flower, but you can see his ears flush red. He clears his throat a little, looking up at you with a smirk.

“What I would give, so that everything in my life was as sweet as you,” he replies, standing up enough to kiss you. You can feel the heat rush through you, your heart fluttering at the sweet words and warm kiss, struggling to keep your breath and yourself steady.

“How’re your legs?”

“Fine, nothing is uncomfortable.” You assure him. “I told you, I can sit like this for hours. My flexing hasn’t disrupted your flowers, I hope?”

Thatch looks around and then shakes his head. “Not even a little.” There’s a devious grin on his face as he nuzzles into your neck, goatee teasing your skin before his lips do. “I wonder if those little flexes will disrupt the decorations I put on you.”

“O-on me?”

Thatch smiles at you and you feel your heart thump heavy in your chest. He picks up a different piping bag and begins to wind thin green “vines” up from the flowers around you. The thin lines of frosting are a little cold, but they were very thin, and thus very light, sitting atop the fine hairs on your thighs and sending odd shivers into your skin from what was an impossibly light touch.

“Stay still, my sweet.” Thatch admonishes lightly, focused on his work. “I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

Something in his tone warms your core, and the confidence you had a few moments ago is slipping away. You were certain you had the chef wrapped around your finger – a little praise, a shy look, and Thatch melted to your will. You weren’t leading him on, it was pleasant for both of you, but now you felt a little like a thief caught by their own trap.

“Th-Thatch.” You whisper softly as the vine twists and turns up your thighs toward your hips.

“Yes, mein törtchen?” He answers, not looking up from his work.

“Y-You’re not… making any more… flowers?” You’re struggling to not shiver from the sound of his voice.

Thatch stops, swirling a vine just inside your thigh. So close, he’s so close and you’re so wet, he has to know, you’re certain of it. He straightens, hand gently caressing the side of your face as he gives you a soft smile.

“But you, are the flower.” He says softly, slowly closing the distance between your lips and his. “No baker would make a flower on top of one that’s already perfect.”

Thatch’s hand is on your thigh as his lips capture yours, devouring your surprised squeak as icing smears against your skin. A deep kiss and needy hands were the start of your evening, and hardly any of the flowers survived the night without some sign of the passion shared between the two of you.

Not even you.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

#birthday request event #one piece drabble #reader insert #x reader #Look #Look I know I'm the one that wrote it #but I gotta... I gotta sit for just... just a second.#Thatch #by the seas.#Where did this come from?#Khadox I hope you enjoy this half as much as I did.#Happy birthday to me holy shit.

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hungrydogs-if · 2 years

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so... faces. portraits. i can hear lizzo telling me it's about damn time.

i realized that i never made artbreeder images of the cast here. there's a very good reason for that (as in artbreeder makes me go absolutely ballistic) but i still want to share with you how i see my characters as i write them.

face claims if you will! i'll probably tackle the ai again some day, but i actually wanted to share this first lol.

ready to face the fabulous? let's go. i'll also post singular images under the cut for those who don't want to click endless links haha.

dane is very much levi stocke. this image is the one that made me pause and do that leonardo dicaprio pointing at my screen. i mean, come on, even the poses? my heart. just gotta remove the tattoos and shave the sides of the hair and there he be. ofc this man is like the ultimate face for wattpad mafia/gang stories but still fits as our little himbo.

mona has always looked like kehlani in my head, although her body shape is very different, the face is still very much alike. especially in this image (that still makes my heart go pitter patter), and this one as well. while mona's skin tone is several shades darker and tattoos are all black and white, it's still my go-to look when thinking of her.

since angel is gender selectable, they get two face claims. for m!angel, it used to be can yaman, but it switched to michele morrone when i was on my endless pinterest scroll the other day. it all changed with this image, which quickly found me this and this. just add a bit of gray in the hair and some depth to the skin tone that's m!angel for sure.

f!angel has been monica raymund for as long as i remember. i don't know where i first caught a pic of her but since the very beginning, she's been the face for f!angel. i think this picture is the one is most associated with her now, but this and this? chef's kiss, absolute perfection. switch the eye color to more prominently hazel and add those stray gray hairs and deeper skin tone again and you got yourself f!angel.

sam was a bit trickier to put a face to since they're so particular in my mind's eye, but i'm certain rain dove gets so very close, especially if they had red hair and more freckles. this picture for example, it has the perfect facial details (minus the eyes that should be green, and the hair that should be naturally red). there's also this image, and that's as close as i've gotten to finding a suitable face claim for sam, sadly. that face with this hair (although lighter in shade) and a slew of freckles all over and they would be perfect ngl.

and thirteen... well, i can't share their face before their helmet comes off in-game lmao. would ruin the mystique! just know they're on par with the rest of the squad.

i hope this hasn't ruined anyone's conception of them!! they aren't a 100% accurate of course, since the crew has scars, freckles, tattoos, moles, all that, but now you have something to add to the names <3

images under cut!!!

dane -> mona -> m!angel / f!angel -> sam

#character portraits.#phew this took a while.#wish i could edit these to be perfect but i am beat #anyway i hope you enjoy #also sorry for long post haha

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rossalotus · 1 year

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Bokuto “The Owl chef” Koutarou and his Christmas recipes - #3 Christmas cookies

As he watches the ad of a private jet, Keiji starts to question if the people who code these algorithms are as good as the media claims them to be. Sure, him and Koutarou are doing great, thank you

They have a nice and spacious house (with a hidden sex room for Keiji’s undisclosed desires) but they could never afford to buy a private jet. Keiji just laughs at the ad - and pities the intern who coded this - before pressing “skip to video”

Again, Koutarou wears his cute apron and Santa hat. Kuroo and Kenma’s kitchen is shiny as ever and with an even brighter smile, Koutarou starts talking

“Hey Hey Hey everyone! Welcome back to the Owl Chef! Today we’ll be making the most delicious and infallible Christmas cookies! I’m Koutarou Bokuto and today we’ll have a very special guest here, one who traveled all the way from France just to make sure we don’t screw up this recipe…”

The screen suddenly gets invaded by the chest of someone wearing a dark green t-shirt. Though he can’t see the face, Keiji recognizes the serious voice and cold tone right away.

“That is not correct. Satori came back home to spend Christmas with me and the kids.”

"Just step a little back, Ushijima-san", Kenma says and he does as he’s told, his beautiful features now on screen along with his version of a smile as he waves to the camera

Behind him, Koutarou looks incredulous, rolls his eyes and shakes his head before continuing.

“So our special guest has traveled all the way from France to visit his husband and kids as well as make sure we get the recipe right. Please welcome Satori Ushijima!”

From behind the camera, Satori makes his way into the scene. He first gives his husband a kiss on the cheek and motions his hands for him to set back to the back scene. Satisfied, Wakatoshi walks back to somewhere behind the camera

Then, Satori walks to Koutarou and hugs him before turning to the camera

“Hello! I’m Satori Ushijima, I’ve been a chocolatier for more than five years now and I’m happy to be here! Hopefully I can help you out in making sure you have delicious cookies for your loved ones this Christmas!”

“Satori please be more confident here, if you can’t help us with cookies I think there’s no one on this Earth who can” Koutarou replied and Satori chuckled

“Well then, I’ll do my best. There are thousands of cookie recipes out there but this one I have developed for my kids and I’m happy to share it with you all. Bo, do you have the ingredient list?”

Koutarou nodded and started listing them as Kuroo brought them to the kitchen counter. When it was over, Kuroo came back to the scene with a small notebook and a pen. Both Koutarou and Satori started staring at him, who just shrugged

“Don’t mind me, I want to take notes because I happen to have a very cute baby at home who loves cookies since he was a kid.” Kuroo turned to the camera. “Right, Kyanma?”

“Get the f*ck away from the scene Kuro. You can take notes from here.”

Kenma’s used a tone colder than usual and Kuroo walked back pouting. Keiji chuckled, those two never changed

The recipe was simple and Satori explained it very well. Keiji knew he was teaching back in France but watching how good he was at it got him by surprise. Koutarou paid attention and followed every instruction, even cutting the chocolate without cutting himself

“This part is important. You can always use chocolate chips if you want but I prefer to cut a bar of chocolate myself. It makes it more delicious and more special.”

Koutarou mixed the cookie dough with his firm hands but Keiji knew better. He had seen this scene unfold thousands of times. Koutarou wasn’t holding the bowl and that bowl was destined to fall to the ground and break in many pieces

Soon, the video turned black and white and Keiji watched Koutarou’s desperate face as the bowl slipped from the counter to the ground. Ready to see his husband clean it all up and watch a speed-run video of him remaking the cookies, it shocked Keiji to see the colors coming back to the video

Satori had crouched fast and catched the bowl before it fell, placing it back on the counter with the content intact

“Wow! Careful there, Bo! You have to always use one hand to mix and one to steady the bowl, otherwise it'll fall.” Koutarou watched his friend with his mouth open, unable to say a single word. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that! I’m the father of two and married to Waka-chan. My hazard radar is sharp.”

From behind the camera, Kenma chuckled and Wakatoshi spoke again

“My husband is incredible, isn’t he?”

Keiji immediately grabbed his phone and texted Satori, begging for a hazard radar class. It’d make his life so much easier

Eventless, the video ended with all of them savoring what looked like the most gorgeous cookies Keiji had ever seen. The different sizes of chocolate in them did make it look even more delicious and Keiji hoped Koutarou would bring him some

“This was it for today! Thank you so much for being here, Satori-kun! I bet my Keiji will love these. I’ll see you guys in the next video where we’re not making a recipe but rather decorating one with some very special guests!”

#bokuto koutaro #haikyuu fanfiction #my writing

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miekasa · 3 years

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positions

+ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: modern au, explicit smut (18+ only), eren is annoying but he’s also hot so it makes up for it i guess 🙄

+ word count: 3k

+ notes: i don’t want to talk about this actually, so if you see it, no you didn’t </2 i kind of got carried away with number three. sorry.

+ summary: eren just likes it with you—will take you however you want him to; but he does have a few favorite positions.

i. missionary — (i’m trying to meet your mama on a sunday, then make a lotta love on a monday).

Eren always did like looking at you. He thinks you’re gorgeous, sexy, and so, so, pretty; all the time, but especially like this.

Because there isn’t anything he likes more than watching you squirm because of him; breath unsteady and voice whiny because of him.

“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” Eren asks, but question is rhetorical; and you’re barely coherent enough to answer him—like he’s fucked you stupid.

“Course you are,” he answers for you, reaching his right hand up to slip his pointer and middle finger past your lips.

You moan around him, warm, wet heat compassing his digits as you let Eren’s fingers fuck your mouth in sync with him thrust into your pussy. It’s only when he feels your spit pooling on your tongue that he pulls them out, immediately using the soaked fingers to further abuse your sensitive clit.

“My pretty, pretty girl,” Eren sings, tapping at your clit in sync with his repeated words.

Eren smirks through his pants as he drinks in your fucked-out state. He likes the way your eyes are screwed shut, high-pitched moans barely squeaking out as you grip at the sheets. Your back arches when he snaps his hips harder, deeper, and—oh, no, that won’t do.

“No, no, baby be good,” he coos, reaching his hand to press over your tummy and flatten your back to the mattress.

“Eren, please,” you barely choke out, head writhing against the pillow, “Just wanna come, please.”

“Just wanna come?” he repeats, but his tone is taunting, almost fiendish at this point, “‘M not stopping you baby, all you have to do is be good for me.”

“I am good,” you insist, words rushed, desperate, “I’m good for you—your good girl, Eren.”

Eren hums at your words, and bends his knee onto the bed, groaning after you as he hits a spot deeper inside of you. He moves his left hand off of your stomach to support himself on the mattress, and reaches his right hand up, crawling up the column of your throat.

He pinches his pointer finger and thumb at your jaw, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes against yours, “Open.”

He barely waits until there’s a gap between your lips before he pries your mouth open himself with his thumb, the pad of his finger pushing against your tongue. He flashes you a sadistic smirk before spitting into your mouth, the tip of his tongue grazing against yours before retreating back into his mouth, “Swallow.”

Your breath is unsteady as your do as you’re told, opening your mouth again to show him just how good you listened; how good you are. A smile washes over his face for a second before he leans forward to kiss you—the kind of kiss he gives before he’s about to fuck you silly, “Good girl.”

ii. against the wall — (cookin’ in the kitchen, and i’m in the bedroom)

Eren isn’t a good cook and he knows it. He’s not terrible—he won’t starve if he ever lived on his own, but he’s no master chef.

It’s probably why he likes watching you cook so much. He would say he likes to help, too, but that would be a lie; he just likes being your taste tester, and distracting you a little bit while he’s at it.

“Did you set the oven to 400?” you ask him, back turned as you pick a wooden spoon from the drawer and bring it to the bowl.

Eren hums, eyes flickering to the oven to ensure that he did, indeed, set it to the right temperature, before taking the few steps necessary to close the distance between you two. Slowly, he wraps his arms around your waist, lightly draping his body over yours as he watches you stir the batter.

“Smells like lemons,” he notes, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Probably because we’re making lemon cake,” you chuckle, bringing your stirring to a stop.

You dip your pointer finger carefully into the batter before bringing it to your lips. You crinkle your nose a bit, before dipping you finger back into the batter, this time hovering it in front of Eren’s lips, “Here, taste. Do you think it needs more sugar? Or maybe vanilla?”

Eren’s gazes flicks from your batter-coated finger, then to your eyes, like a magnet; green growing cloudy with arousal. Carefully, slowly, he pushes forward until his lips wrap around your finger, teeth grazing your digit when he pulls back.

“No,” he answers, voice raspy, “It’s perfect.”

“You sure?” you question, words genuine and innocent; oblivious to the angle he’s playing at.

Eren unwraps his arms from your waist, steps back far enough to allow him to spin you around, you lower back pressed into the counter, and eyes wide. He smiles, reaches his hand into the bowl, but instead of waiting for you to taste it, he brushes it against your mouth, before forcing his finger past your lips, just far enough to clean the remaining batter against your tongue.

“Positive,” Eren says, before bruising his lips against yours in a kiss. Quickly, his tongue flashes to swipe against your bottom lip, bringing sticky, sweet cake batter into your mouth.

Then, he lifts you, skillfully moving the bowl aside to make room for you on the counter; knocking over measuring cups and utensils in his path that are sure to leave a mess, but right now you don’t care. Eren always did like things messy, after all.

Eren’s hands paw at the hem of your shirt, clumsily pulling it over your head. He hisses when you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down into a searing kiss, and biting at his lower lip in revenge.

A yelp of surprise leaves yours lips as he grips under your thighs and picks you up from the counter. Eren groans when your tangle your hands into his hair, using it as both leverage and support.

“Fuck,” he mutters when you accidentally press yourself against his bulge in an attempt to tighten your legs around his waist. You pull away slightly, breath tickling his face as your eyes jump from his to his lips.

Carefully you comb your fingers through his hair again, elbows resting on his shoulders as you catch your breath.

“Question,” you pose, breathing heavily through your syllables, “How long do you think you can hold me up for?”

“Like this? A while, probably.” Eren replies moving his hands up from under your thighs to your ass.

“But like this,” Eren takes a few steps forwards until your back is pushing against the wall. He smirks when he sees the small gape at your mouth, and squeezes at your ass to exaggerate your expression, before leaning into to whisper in your ear, “A whole lot longer.”

iii. double date — (this some shit that I usually don’t do, but for you I kinda want to)

Armin’s fingers are, surprisingly, rough. More calloused than you would think; for the rest of him is all soft edges and round features; all smooth and nice and kind and good.

But, not like this. The Armin whose eyes gaze up at you from your legs is hardly anything like that. He’s not the Armin you know; this one is teasing, relentless, almost manic; he’s mean and he knows it.

You can see it in his eyes, that the Armin you know and love is nowhere in sight. Because when Eren pushes his finger inside of you next to Armin’s, you swear those clear, blue eyes that are usually so bright become icy with intent.

“She’s so pretty, Eren,” Armin says to his friend, but his gaze is on you as he twists his finger inside, knuckles bumping against Eren’s. You throw your head back with a grunted moan, and barely have the strength to hold it up again to see Armin’s smirk, “So pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Eren coos, green eyes smiling at you.

It’s almost too much, the both of them looking at you from between your legs. You’re not sure which one to focus on—if you have the strength to meet either of their gazes for more an a second before screwing your eyes shut, overwhelmed by it. The attention, the feeling, the shared lust is all too much.

“Armin, hold on, let me—” Eren grunts, twisting his finger inside of you, so that it intertwines with Armin’s, “There we go.”

The sensation drives you crazy, the feeling of their fingers brushing against each other—brushing against your walls makes your head spin, and you curl your own fingers into a ball at your sides. It’s only two fingers—but it feels foreign, new, too much; it makes you thrash, they way they pump their digits inside of you, perfectly in sync, perfectly full every time.

It’s new to you, but Eren and Armin have always been best friends; it’s not abnormal for them to share. And they do it so well.

“Eren, Armin, I—” you call, almost wail at you feel someone’s fingertips brush past your weak spot, “Please.”

Your hips rise as you groan with the feeling, and as if rehearsed, the both of their free hands are quick to snap you back against the mattress. When you look down at them, Eren has a dirty look in his eyes, but Armin’s is dirtier—as if you let you know that that he did that; that he planned it, too.

“Don’t be rude,” Eren tuts, “Armin’s being so nice to you, so be good for him. Be good for us.”

You almost want to cry—if this is his nice, you’ve severely underestimated the Armin Arlert you know.

“You wanna come, yeah?” Armin asks you, with a tone so light and genuine, you would never think he’s capable of anything he’s currently doing.

You nod your head embarrassingly quickly, a stuttered moan slipping out as both boys tighten their told on each other’s fingers; and Armin smirks with glassy eyes before lowering his head closer to your center, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you.”

Armin’s eyes flicker to Eren’s only for a moment, a ghost of a nod shared before the two boys before Armin’s tongue is flat against your slit. You hiss, incoherent moans escaping your throat; Armin is merciless, licking, and sucking until it hurts to breathe.

Your eyes flutter shut when Armin pushes the tip of his tongue against your clit, both his and Eren’s fingers slowing in time with his movement, before speeding up just as he sucks at the bud again. Eren bites a kiss into your thigh, hand squeezing at your hips again.

“I said be good,” he reminds you, sucking at your skin again with warning, “Look at him.”

You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, that the second you make eye contact with the blonde again, he sucks on your clit; not ceasing his actions until you come with hot, white flashes resonating through your body.

You can hear them laugh at your collapse, Eren gently kissing your shaking thigh as your body goes limp. Eren shimmies his body up slightly, pulling both his and Armin’s fingers from your pussy and guiding them to your lips.

“Taste,” is his simple command, ordering you to open your mouth wide enough to take both of their fingers.

Eren hums through a laugh, before turning his head to Armin. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, brings his hand to the back of his friend’s head, grabbing tufts of blonde hair in his grip, and angling his head for a perfect kiss, “Share.”

You can barely register their mouths moving together, lewd sounds and flashes of tongue in their kissing, before your head falls back against your pillow again. They’ll be the end of you someday, you’re certain of it.

Your reaction makes Armin chuckle—almost innocently, but you know now you’ve been using that word far too liberally with him. He crawls up to lay next you, gently cradling your cheek with one hand to pull your face to his.

“Good right?” he asks gently, a light kiss placed on your bruised lips.

“Hm,” you can just barely nod, eyes flickering to stay open, “Eren was right.”

Eren finds himself at your other side, pressing feather-light kisses into your neck and jaw, “Told you so, baby.”

“Eren would know,” Armin smiles, and those blue eyes are coated with a layer of mischief once again, “He speaks from personal experience, after all.”

iv. the throne — (you’re down for me, and i’m down, too)

“You have to be careful,” you warn him, “It won’t be very sexy if I fall over into the tub.”

Eren hums, with the intonation that tells you he heard you, but he’s not really listening. He peppers kisses along your thigh, hands greedy; grabbing and pinching at your skin. He uses one hand to pry your legs open wider; one knee bent, foot resting against the side of your bathtub, while the other is grounded against the tiles, and Eren on his knees below you.

You don’t know why this is a fantasy of his—and why he wants to do it now, in the bathroom of all places, but you admit you give into him more than you should.

He wraps his forearms under your thighs, reaching so that the palm of his hands pull at your skin; and pull you closer to his face. Nervous, you grip at the sink for extra support.

Eren smirks below you, peppering an apologetic kiss dangerously close to your center. You growl, using your free hand to grab at his hair, crane his neck back to make him look at you.

“Eren, listen to me,” you tell him. He knows your voice has annoyance laced in it, but it’s also heavy with authority, and makes blood rush to his pants.

Raised eyebrows lower slowly, his pupils wide and blown out at your sudden command; before his surprise morphs into lust. “Of course, baby,” he concedes, licking at your clit too quickly, “Tell me what you want. I’ll listen.”

You squint with disbelief. Nothing is ever that straightforward with Eren; even when he’s on his knees about to give, he’s asking something of you, too. Nevertheless, you loosen your hold on his hair in favor of cradling his head more gently.

“Just,” you start, a shaky breath escaping through your words when Eren’s tongue prods at your clit, “Just make sure I don’t fall.”

Eren hums, vibrations resonating throughout your body, a hissed curse slipping past your lips. “Of course,” he repeats, “I wouldn’t want to hurt my baby.”

You nod, breath growing increasing unsteady when Eren circles your clit with his tongue. He gets greedy, alternating between licking, and kissing, and sucking; and relishing in your body growing heavy in his hands.

“Though,” he says, words spoken muffled against your sensitive skin, but those green eyes are bright and bold when they look at you, “If you’re afraid of falling, you could always sit on my face instead.”

v. love on top — (my love’s infinite, nothing I wouldn’t do, won’t do, for you)

You’re pretty like this, too. Pretty all the time—but if there’s one thing Eren likes more than you under him, it’s you on top of him.

“You’re so hot like this,” he says, voice thick with lust, as he reaches out to rest his hands against your hips.

Eren likes the way you bounce on top of him, thighs shaking against his. He’s surprised when you move your hands to take his off of you—quick to question your motives, before you lace your hands with his, a weak, but sweet smile when your fingers are intertwined.

He smiles back, using your connected hands to pull you forward, elbows bent, the back of his hands plush against the sheets, while your palms hold them down. You’re bent over now, tummy pressed against his, and Eren can feel you breathing into the crook of his neck.

He bends his knee to give him some leverage, adding his own thrusts while you desperately bounce back on his cock.

“B—babe… ‘M gonna come,” he moans, and it’s not long before he’s cumming inside of you. He unlaces one of his hands from yours, using it to rest against the small of your back as you shake through your own orgasm, open mouthed kisses pressed into his collar.

You lay like that for a bit, before Eren pulls out. He has to move you off of him to throw away the condom; but is quick to find his way back to the bed, rolling onto the mattress unceremoniously. He lays facing you, and reaches a hand out, palm open and waiting.

You roll your eyes, but lazily meet him halfway as he daps you up; a stupid smile on his face. He shuffles onto his back, and pulls you on top of him, this time using both hands to wrap around your waist.

“That was so hot,” he muses, love-drunk on you and tracing random patterns into your skin, “You should—should do that more often.”

You curl your hands up to circle his head, lazy fingers playing with his hair, as you nuzzle your head into his chest, eyes fluttering shut, as sleep takes over your body, “Maybe.”

(Definitely).

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren smut #eren fluff #levi x reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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All Yours - Harry Styles

a/n: idk if you saw those pics of the house that’s supposedly Harry’s, maybe it’s not his but that shower gave me... thoughts 👀 . and these are those thoughts lmao enjoy!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Harry has been mad at you all day. Well, not mad in the sense where he hates your guts, that could never happen because the two of you are ridiculously in love, but he thought you let a guy flirt with you earlier in the grocery shop and his dominant, jealous side came out right away.

“I was just answering his question nicely, H,” you sighed when he confronted you in the car on the way home.

“Yeah, nicely let him flirt with you and basically fuck you with his eyes,” he scoffed, still clearly upset by it.

“Harry, I don’t have control over what others think. How am I supposed to change what goes on in his mind?” you asked with a confused chuckle. You could feel the man’s stare, but he didn’t do anything disrespectful, he didn’t touch you or say something inappropriate, just asked you a simple question, you answered and then you parted ways. Easy as it is.

“You could have just not answer him,” he shrugged, but you could tell he knew you would have never done that.

“What happened to treat people with kindness, babe?” you teased him, but he just rolled his eyes mumbling under his breath.

“No kindness when someone is trying to fuck my girlfriend.”

You find it amusing when he turns into some kind of cave man whenever he is jealous. It has a manly charm that just riles you up. Knowing how territorial he is, how he wants everyone to know that you’re his, it’s just doing things to you only Harry can achieve.

Now he is lying in bed, scrolling through his phone and he still seems a little distant following the little jealousy scene from earlier. You’ve tried to lighten him up, but for some reason he is trying to convince him that you really were flirting with that man. So now you are eager to show him that he is the only man in your life and you’re not planning to change that anytime soon.

“Gonna take a shower,” you tell him walking out of your closet in only your silky bathrobe. Harry doesn’t look up, just hums in response. Reaching to your stomach you untie the knot on the robe and let it slide open, revealing your fully naked body, making his eyes finally flicker up. “You are welcome to join,” you tell him with a sly smirk before walking into the bathroom joined to the bedroom you’ve been sharing with him this past year.

You don’t close the door behind you, and just as you take the robe off you hear him shuffling outside, walking into the bathroom just when you step into the giant walk-in shower. Biting into your lip you start the water that rains down on you from the showerheads hanging from the ceiling while Harry is eager to free himself from his sweatpants and shirt.

He kicks his boxers down, his eyes widening slightly as he watches you stand under the water, running your hands through your wet hair, making sure the light coming from the window on the other side gives out the silhouette of your curves perfectly. Dropping your hands you turn to him, tilting your head to the side, enjoying the attention you are getting from your man.

“Are you gonna stay there watching or you plan on getting inside?” you ask teasingly and he doesn’t need more. He joins you under the water in a heartbeat, the droplets running down his firm chest and broad shoulders so perfectly, you already want to lick them off with your hungry mouth. It’s always funny to you how Harry still can think you’d leave him for someone else when the entire male population starts and ends with him for you, there’s just no man that could ever make you feel the things he can, intentionally or not on purpose as well.

You grab the shower gel and squeeze some into the palm of your hand before starting to soap your upper body, eyes never leaving his as his green, greedy eyes burn down on your naked body.

“Would you mind doing my back?” you ask with faked innocence as you turn around and show him your back. He hums in response, reaching around you so his hands meet yours, stealing some of the gel from them before moving them to your back and gently massaging it into your wet skin. His finger start working on your shoulders and neck, rubbing your muscles perfectly as you feel yourself relax under his touch. When you accidentally take a tiny step backwards you can’t help the smirk that tugs on your lips when you feel his already hardening cock poking at your bum.

Harry pushes his chest against your back, his hands moving down to your breasts as he kneads them, making you moan, your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Feels good, baby?” he murmurs pressing his lips to your jawline as you reach back with your hands, lacing your fingers through his wet locks.

“Yes,” you breathe out, pushing your bum against him even more so his cock presses into you, making him groan in pleasure. Turning around in his arms you attack his lips, not able to keep yourself controlled any longer. He kisses you back with just as much passion and vigor, his hands gripping your waist so hard his fingers dig into your flesh. You move your hands down his back, nails scratching his soft skin until you reach his ass, squeezing each cheeks in a hand shamelessly that just makes him moan into your mouth.

“What do you want to do with me, Harry?” you ask him seductively, bringing a hand up to his hair so you can tug on his locks just the way he loves. “I’m all yours. Always have been, always will be.”

“Sit on the bench, baby. I want to taste you,” he groans, kissing you hard one last time before he lets go of you so you can move.

You sit to the marble bench under the window, the water not hitting you any longer and as Harry sinks to his knees in front of you, your legs open up for him out of instinct. Harry’s hands grab onto the insides of your thighs, exposing you to him even more and he stares down at your throbbing core like it’s his favorite meal in the entire world, made just for him by a chef.

Dipping his head down he kisses both your thighs up until his lips brush against your sensitive bud, teasing you a little as he is barely touching you.

“Harry!” you whine, a hand coming into his hair while you try to support you with the other one so you don’t fall back. “I need you!”

“M’right here, baby,” he smirks before he finally places and openmouthed kiss to your clit, swirling his tongue, sucking on your skin relentlessly.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp, your chest heaving from the pleasure that crashes down on you suddenly.

Harry has a magical mouth and you’ve known this since your third date years ago when the two of you were so hungry for each other that you didn’t even make it into your place, he ate you out in the backseat of his car before he fucked you good. Right then and there you knew you found the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

He is making you see stars as he licks and sucks on your sex, two fingers coming to your hole, teasing you slightly, not thrusting into you just yet.

“Harry! Don’t fucking tease me!” you groan in frustration, desperate to feel more. You can feel his smirk against you before he finally pushes two fingers into you, making you moan his name over and over again.

“I fucking love your pussy, it’s so sweet and warm,” he hums, pumping into you without skipping a beat as he looks up to see the pleasure he is giving you on your face. He is satisfied with the work he is doing, watching you fall apart under his touch, weak for him and only for him.

He edges you until you’re screaming his name, almost reaching your climax but then he pulls back, leaving you feeling empty and unfinished. You don’t have the chance to speak up before he gets up to his feet and orders you around again.

“Get up, I’m gonna fuck you against the wall,” he tells you and your whole body lights on fire. You love it when he bosses you around, when he takes control but not too much. He knows your limits and knows that you fancy him being a little dominant, but he also knows how much you need the freedom of doing whatever you want during sex. You’re not completely submissive and he is not trying to make you either, just accepts your boundaries and play within the rules, making you extremely grateful that he is all about pleasuring you.

You stand up, but your knees weaken for a moment, threatening to collapse, but Harry grabs you just in time, holding you against his firm chest as he kisses your forehead.

“You good, baby?” he asks in a much softer tone.

“Yeah, just… a bit shaken,” you chuckle as you hold onto his shoulders. “I’m fine,” you assure him before pulling down to kiss him, your tongue meeting his in the middle.

He walks you until your back hits the wall and you hiss at the sudden coldness of it, making you arch against him, your breasts pushing against his tattooed chest. His lips never leave yours, he is tugging on your bottom lip, biting and licking into your mouth as his hands find the back of your thighs and he hoists you up until your legs wrap around his waist, holding you without a mishap.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, baby,” he mumbles into the kiss as he reaches down and grabbing the base of his fully erected cock, lining himself up with you, the tip teasing your core already.

“Go deep and hard, want to feel you everywhere,” you breathe out, grabbing a handful of his hair before he pushes into you without warning, filling you up entirely.

You gasp at the sudden feeling and he stops when he is all the way inside you, giving you some time to adjust to him. He kisses your lips, your nose and cheeks before you give his hair another tug, signaling that he can start moving. He picks up a steady pace, moving in and out of you easily since you are dripping wet for him at this point. Curling your arms around his shoulders you pant against the side of his face, kissing his temple, ear and the soft skin below it as he keeps thrusting into you, building your orgasm up once again.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, moving faster as his fingers dig into your thighs locked around his waist.

“Are you close, baby?” you ask out of breath.

“Yeah, I’m close, are you?”

“Yes, want you to cum with me, want to do it together,” you pant as you pull his head back so you can look into his eyes. He just nods and makes his thrusts shorter but harder, pushing you towards the edge.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns you, his eyes shutting close for a few moments.

“Cum, I’m close too. Cum for me, Harry!” you ask him and he whines at your words.

A few more thrusts later you feel him jerk inside you as he falls out of his rhythm, coming hard inside you as he keeps moaning your name over and over again. When his head falls forward and his teeth dig into your shoulder you burst too, the pleaser washing over you in waves.

“Oh fuck! Harry!” He keeps moving, even when he has already ridden down his high, just to make sure you’re fully satisfied. He pushes into you a few more times before he stops, putting you down gently, making sure your legs don’t collapse under you again. He kisses your face wherever he can until his lips meet yours, dragging this kiss a little longer and softer than the once you shared before.

He pulls you under the water and grabs a washcloth from the side, he wets it and gently cleans you up, peppering featherlike kisses to your skin everywhere he goes.

“I hope the way I just screamed your name proves that you’re the only man I want,” you smile at him sheepishly, running your hands up his chest until they rest at the base of his neck.

“M’sorry for being a pain in the ass, I’m just so fucking in love with you, I selfishly want to be the only man that can have the privilege to feel this way for you.”

“And you are,” you chuckle softly, cupping his face in your hands. “Others might find me hot or have a thing for me, but you are the only one who knows me, who sees me like this… who makes me feel like this. I’m all yours, H.”

Breathing out through his nose he captures your lips in another kiss as he pulls you tight against him.

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. Now let’s actually shower,” you chuckle, reaching for your shampoo.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry syles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot

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unholyhelbig · 2 years

Note

Omg hear me out, Kate having a huge crush on the reader, and in one of those fancy parties the reader kisses her, but she was drunk and doesn't really remember after. And now Kate is lost because she's definitely in love and doesn't want it to be just some drunken mistake. Deliver us the feels? Your writing is just *chef's kiss*

A/N: Happy New Year Guys! I hope this is enough to hold you over for now. It's a dynamic I might expand on soon. Thank you so much for the request!

Send me more Kate x Reader prompts here

Read Part One Here

The Bishop Girl Pt.2 | Kate Bishop x Reader

You were late. You were also drunk, but that didn't mean that you couldn’t’ be on time for the dinner party. The world was pulsing around its edges, and you missed the first train, then the second one rumbled so fiercely that you got off a stop ahead of plan and threw up. It was going to be a good night, you figured as you walked towards the venue. You could get it together.

You went through the freight door of the fancy hotel, barely wading through your mind for the code that your aunt had texted you. But the door opened, and you were out of the New York Cold. The kitchen was working hard, grease popping and bubbling just as much as your stomach did. You took a moment to breathe, to swallow down the bourbon.

“Y/N oh my god, there you are”

“America! Hey buddy.” You smiled lazily at her. She was so strong, so toned, and so annoyed. You could tell by the terse look on her face. Someone was calling out orders through the headset that was in her ear. She steadied you. “Whoa, muscles.”

“Cariño, are you drunk?”

The scent of your breath could have told her that. She grimaced as you sighed, knowing the answer nearly instantaneously. You had lost track of time after failing your Chemistry final, figured that two shots would give you a slight buzz and you could make it in time for work. You were a few more shots in now and honestly, truly, probably should have called out instead of making your way here.

“Si tu tía estuviera aquí, te mataría.” She growled under her breath “You’re lucky it’s me running the floor tonight. It’s a Bishop party.”

That wasn’t good. Even in your half-drunken state, you knew that these were important, but you had scanned the schedule between finals and didn’t put much stock into it. The last time you were near any of the Bishop’s you had knocked a guy unconscious. Since then, you had gotten out of two events, one with the stomach flu and the other with traffic. Maybe you were subconsciously avoiding something or someone.

America frowned, her eyes narrowing as she pressed the headset closer to her eardrum “She’s what?”

You heard a mumbled response but couldn’t’ pin it and didn’t’ care to. Then there was the echoing sound of heels against the bone-colored floor. It vibrated all around you. There was no way to tell where it was coming from and if you glanced both ways again you would go through round two of losing your lunch.

“Oh, I am so dead.” America sighed, pulling you up to a straight position with one tug of your jacket’s lapel. “Look alive, please. And don’t say anything. Don’t even blink Cariño”

Right, you could do that. You could do that if it wasn’t Kate's mother fucking Bishop walking with so much purpose. She wore a suit this time, emerald, green in its color, and pressed with a subtle print. It reflected so vibrantly against her grey stare.

Her eyes flashed from America to you, and you didn't feel yourself slipping but your friends' tight grip on the fabric you wore assured you that you had almost gone down. You cleared your throat and tucked your hands behind you, trying to stay steady.

“Is everything alright, Miss Bishop?” America smiled tightly.

“Everything is perfect, I appreciate you guys.” She stopped in front of you both “My mother, on the other hand, wants to push dinner up by fifteen minutes. I’m not sure if that’s possible.”

“That’s possible, absolutely. I’ll just,” America hesitated and glanced at you with pleading eyes. She had to go to the kitchen, inform the head chef of the slight time change, but there was clear worry etched into her features. “Let Tommy know.”

Kate thanked her with a smile before you felt the hand move from the small of your back. You held yourself strong, throat still slightly burned from the alcohol you had swallowed strong. Kate was scrutinizing you.

“You alright, y/n?” She asked, “You’re looking a little green.”

She knew your name. Of course, she did your aunt has worked for the family for years, nearly a decade but you had never crossed her radar until recently when you had effectively insulted her by calling her a princess, and you’d be damned if it wasn’t dancing at the tip of your tongue now, but you bit it back.

“You look green,” You shot back, “I… I mean, I like your suit dress thing, it’s very nice. You look nice.”

She smiled at you. Maybe it was the liquor, but that in itself was intoxicating. You don’t remember falling forward, but you do remember the walls matching with your heartbeat and a sudden warmth as Kate steadied you.

You breathed her in deep, the mint and clove scent she brandished like a fancy broach. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You don’t smell fine.”

Her voice rumbled in through her chest and vibrated against your skin. There was a strange type of confidence that came with your intoxication. She was taller than you, dipping her chin to get a better look at the glazed overlook in your eyes. There may have been some crying later, but that was after you had closed your laptop, not now. You hoped your stare wasn’t rimmed in red.

It was another thing that you didn't think through, your thoughts a mix of molasses and honey not warmed. But you stood on your toes, connecting your lips with hers. She breathed in sharp, frozen for just a moment before she pressed into you, running a hand against the edge of your jaw, destabilizing you even more than usual. You whimpered into her throat, suddenly sobered for just a moment.

There was a rush of cold air that pulled the two of you apart. Kate’s cheeks were red, her lips slightly parted and a starry look in her stare. It quickly hardened as she steadied you, clearing her throat and looking towards the intrusion.

“Uh, dinner is pushed up, Miss Bishop,” America said, her own voice sharp.

“Perfect, I uh, thank you.” Kate swallowed “Get her some coffee please and a taxi home. It’s on me.”

A headache slammed against the side of your temple as you stirred the next morning. The blinds had been pulled back with a sharp screech, pulling you from sleep. Your whole body hummed with discomfort and the remainder of a hangover clung to your clothes. You had fallen asleep in your work uniform, rumpled now, with sleep.

You blinked a few times before focusing your attention on America. Her expression was hard, arms crossed over her favorite pajama top, a blue shirt with a neon white star on it. It had faded to yellow now, something she had owned since the two of you had first been assigned as roommates freshman year, sharing a small, cold space.

“How bad was I?” you groaned.

“A literal nightmare.” She pulled back the second curtain, you winced at the sound “The bane of my existence. Dare I say the worst I have ever seen you.”

You didn’t’ drink often, you paced yourself through two glasses of wine most nights that you were obligated to attend. But you had found the hard stuff and it was your last final. It wasn’t cause for celebration but the liquor you had bought for that purpose called your name more than your shift did.

You pulled the cool pillow over your face, words muffled “I’m so sorry Mer.”

She huffed back but lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, basking in the warm light that moved through the windowpane. You reached blindly for your phone, feeling nothing but cool wood under your fingertips.

“If you’re looking for your phone it’s not here. I think you dropped it somewhere between tipsy and blackout, but I don’t want you to worry because Kate Bishop has it.”

You sat up, fast. There was an instant lurch in your stomach as you let out a dizzying breath, the pillow falling into your lap. “She what?”

“She called the catering company this morning. You’re lucky your Tia didn’t pick up the phone. Tommy beat her to it, kids fast.” America spoke with an amused tone in her voice. “Don’t worry though, Kate said you can stop by Bishop Security anytime today and pick it up.”

Okay, alright… this was fine. You wouldn’t have to dip into your savings to replace the phone. But at this point, that seemed easier than facing the girl. There was a blurry reminder of her from last night, a memory flickering against static. There was her sweet scent, and something else, something you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Shower before you go. You stink.” America crinkled her nose and left you to your own devices. You could taste regret against your lips, or was it peppermint Chapstick?

Bishop Security was in downtown Manhattan. It stretched towards the winter sky. When you attempted to look up the world spun into a hangover that you thought you had curbed with a long hot shower and some coffee. Maybe it was just your own nerves hitting every single base.

The inside was pristine and white, the floors a reflective marble, two workers in sharp grey jumpsuits were quietly taking down the Christmas trees and the string lights. The dull scent of pine told you that they were real. A receptionist with honey green eyes glanced up at you before taking your name. She narrowed her eyes before giving you a visitor badge and giving you directions to the top floor.

She went too fast, but you got into the elevator all the same. Your palms were sweaty, so you shoved them into your pockets. Kate Bishop was going to fire you. Not you, really, but your Aunt. Her whole catering business with America, and Tommy, and Billy, and Eli was going to crash and burn. You would have to move to Kansas and get real skilled at farm work.

You felt severely out of place in the hub of Bishop Security. But Kate’s office door was clear glass and her stare found yours the second you stepped off the elevator. She was talking to a man, blueprints and documents suddenly piled together and handed to him. He nodded and exited the office with stride before the girl waved you in.

She was dressed in something a little more casual than you had ever seen her in before. A t-shirt that was as pitch as her hair, pulled into an expert bun. Her arms rested against the glass desk. You tried not to let your stare linger, but it was hard, her muscles straining against her position.

“Y/N,” She said, words soft “Thanks for stopping by. You can sit if you want.”

You didn’t’ want to sit but did anyway. If not, your legs might have given out. You watched her carefully as she moved to the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out your phone. There was a small fracture against the center of the screen, and it had died during the night, but other than that, it seemed unscathed.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. This is a lifeline.” You pocketed it, the device cold against your skin.

She smiled and the expression was intoxicating. She was alluring, and totally out of an element that you had grown used to seeing her in. She sat against the edge of the desk; knee close enough to you that you could feel the heat radiating off her.

“It’s no problem.” She said, lilting her head to the side “Are you okay?”

“Am I?” You stuttered out, not expecting the question. “Yeah, I think I got it all out of my system. I swear on my own grave I won’t show up to one of your parties wasted again.”

She laughed, a sweet sound “It happens, y/n. We all have our nights.”

You stood, the tension leaving your shoulders at this point, throat tight with anxiety. She smelled like the pine trees downstairs and the soap from the bathroom. “Thank you again, Kate.”

“Are we, uh,” She swallows hard. Suddenly she looked nervous, which made you nervous. Her hands were sweating too while yours had let up the slightest bit. “I think we should talk about last night. About what happened.”

“You’re not going to give me a card for AA, are you? Because it’s not like I’m a frequent flyer for this type of thing.”

Kate stood and shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants, a little loose and printed with a plaid grey design. She was close to you, breathing in deep to the point where her shoulders tightened. “You don’t… remember?”

You scratched the back of your neck “Truthfully I stepped off the subway and the rest is fuzzy. God, please don’t tell me I called you Princess again. I am so sorry about that. I was really taken aback by you, you know.”

You made a gesture with your hand that mimicked the motion of swinging a tray through the air. She blew a puff of air from her nose and shook her head. There was heat growing against your cheeks that you simply attributed to the full-on fear that lurked just below the surface.

“Yeah, you did.” She finally conceded “Don’t worry though, I’ll let it slip this time on account of the bourbon.”

“Ugh, I’m the worst. I’ll make it up to you.” You frowned remember the total of seven cents that you had in your bank account at the moment. Certainly not enough to fix your phone screen, but maybe enough for something else. “I owe you a coffee. I would say a drink but I think I’m a little tapped out in that department right now.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Kate said.

You thanked her again, forever grateful that she didn’t fire the whole catering company, nor did she rip your throat out with her teeth because of the name slip-up. There was an odd goofy side to Kate Bishop that you didn’t’ notice as she slammed her knuckles into a guy's face.

There was one more sparing glance as you waited for the elevator. Her grey stare was focused on the floor, she had returned to her sitting position at the corner of the desk. You could have sworn you saw her fingers ghost against her own lips as if there was a memory there, something you couldn’t pull out of the memories of the night before.

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #kate bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #kate bishop imagine #Hawkeye #hawkeye series #hawkeye show #hawkeye disney plus #america chavez #tommy maximoff

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pinkuberii · 2 years

Note

but on a different note, the zhongli brainrot is strong rn so have some of my incessant ideas…

imagine zhongli being a plant lover and buying a new plant for your home every week. like, you just come home from work to see yet another small potted plant on the kitchen windowsill. said man’s face is glowing with a proud and excited grin.

“welcome home, dearest. you’ve arrived just in time. i’ve placed your dinner on the table but before we share our meal, might i introduce you to-”

you cut him off with a tired yet amused huff before he could continue. “another addition to your green family?”

the proud-turned-sheepish smile he now wears warms your heart, and you find that you don’t have it in you to be mad at him for spending more of your hard-earned mora on more plants.

“apologies, my dearest, but i couldn’t have left this little one behind… it was on the brink of drying out, and so the florist kindly sold it to me for less than half the price. with enough care and attention it will surely flourish once more. you’re not upset with me, are you…?” he fumbles. it was clear that he was trying to appease you, possibly worried that you’d scold him for another silly purchase.

a quick glance at the aforementioned baby succulent on the windowsill and your partner’s hopeful expression is enough to give you an answer. honestly, this man had you wrapped around his finger and it was, bluntly put, rather shameful.

you shake your head softly. “no, zhongli, it’s okay. it’s actually kinda cute. have you found a name for it already?”

he visibly relaxes at your calm tone and smiles excitedly once again. taking a step towards you, he gently reaches out for your hand and clasps it with his warm one. “i was actually hoping to name it with you, dearest. why don’t we have this discussion over our meal? i’ve made your favourite.”

with a growing smile matching his own you followed him as he guided you to the dining room. the pair of you shared your day with each other in the presence of your newest family addition. however, the act of naming this newest member proved to be quite difficult and the rest of the night was spent arguing over the perfect name.

after carrying you up to your shared bed he tucked you under the blanket and shuffled himself snug by your side, sliding a heavy and warm arm comfortably around your waist.

————

“oh! how about ‘deez’?”

“‘deez’?”

“yeah, ‘deez nutz’!” you wheezed.

“dearest…”

you were promptly smothered to his chest.

WOWOWOWOWOWOW-

WOW-

AYO UR MAKING ME BLUSH THIS MORNING THATS TOO ADORABLE WHAT

Thank you for sharing your Zhongli brainrot with me because this man is living in both of our minds… rent free 😔😔

Feel free to send ur future brainrots to me because they’re *chef kiss* 🤌✨

But your home would look so good with all those plants… and the fact you’re naming every plant with him… I’m so soft 🥺🥺🥺

It would be such a great activity to water them together- 😼

Like there’s a plant that’s placed too high??? No worries he’s on his way to pick you up like the strong man he is <33

—————————

Also you sent me two requests,, do you mind if I did both?? 👉👈

#esu talks—🎀#esu’s inbox—💌#THE DEEZ NUTS AT THE END #LOVED IT BWAGHAGAHA #but wow ur brain is big #✨✨✨#genshin #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #also ur support and kind words mean a lot to me #you reread my fics and I reread your comments oop

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

#john shelby fluff #john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby reader insert #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders

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fandom-monium · 3 years

Note

i finished for the holidays and i just *chefs kiss* beautiful talented amazing sajkgdkj no words i love that romance wasnt even the main point 🥺💘 anyway i love how you write reader and i wondered between her and spencer who gets jealous???

Unrivaled

Summary: In which you seem pretty close with the new intern, and Spencer is not happy about it. (ft. one of my fave white bois) “Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

WC: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, Jealous!Spencer bc id like to see that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, the lightest implication of smut ever, points to yall who can guess who the intern is before reading the end or the tags 😉

—

Spencer is not jealous. He’s not.

Why would he be?

He has no reason to be jealous, Spencer chants to himself as he sits at his desk. Even from across the bullpen he still manages to hear your voice, and while normally it’s music to his ears, even better than Mozart, now it just feels like nails against a chalkboard. Grating his eardrums, making him wince.

Because you’re laughing. Not with Spencer though. Not at his obscure references or lame jokes.

With the new intern.

Why did Emily have to put you in charge of him? She could’ve chosen anyone on the team to have him shadow, but it had to be you! Not that you’re incapable or unqualified; you’re experienced, talented, and the best person he knows.

… Okay, he can see why she picked you.

Why do they even have interns? Unnecessary, really, when the BAU has you and him and he guesses the other teams too (it’s weird, he’s never actually interacted with them but whatever). Maybe it’s time to start making budget cuts. He’ll discuss this with Emily when he gets the chance. He’s got some influence, working at the BAU as long as he has.

But he’s not jealous.

Logically, jealousy (like an intern) is unnecessary. The green-eyed monster (like an intern) is ugly and contributes nothing productive, and if Spencer’s being honest, the world (like an intern) would be much better off without it.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself as he downs his coffee like a shot of whiskey, trying to quell the squirming beast in him. Despite 90% of it being sugar, it still tastes bitter. He sets his mug down with a thud, and it’s loud enough to make Luke, Garcia, and JJ turn their heads, exchanging concerned glances when he slumps back in his chair.

Spencer doesn’t care. The world’s ending; you’re apparently into younger guys, with neat dark hair and forearms that can probably snap someone’s neck, and he can’t do anything about it. What does it matter if his best friends catch him in a sour mood, right?

“Hey, Spence,” JJ's tone is soft as they slink over, Garcia and Luke leaning against the edge of his desk and JJ flanking the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer gazes past them, his eyes never leaving you. He deflates; your stance is relaxed, completely open as you nod at whatever Intern is saying, his hands gesturing spastically. It must be interesting, the way you listen with rapt attention and respond just as enthusiastic.

Spencer scoffs. Not like that’s anything special. You do the same for him. And the rest of the team.

...What the hell are you guys talking about?

“Well, you look like you’re about to throw your mug across the room. Or at an intern.”

Spencer blinks, finally breaking away from you long enough to eye the ceramic octopus. “That’s a good idea actually.”

“Don’t,” Garcia and JJ both shoot him a warning and he huffs, resting his chin in his hand. Garcia looks horrified, betrayed even while JJ has that expression on, the one she gives when she scolds Henry and Michael.

Whatever. It’s not like he’d ever sacrifice Mildred. Garcia entrusted her to him, after all.

Unless...?

No, he couldn’t… Maybe.

“You know, Reid, if you’re jealous—”

Spencer snaps his head to Garcia, eyes wide and darting to you like you have super-hearing, “Jealous? Who’s jealous? Not me.” He cringes, his voice octaves higher and cracking like a prepubescent boy.

Garcia snorts, “Okay, sure. But if you are jealous, I was going to say you have no reason to be. You wanna know why?” Spencer raises an eyebrow at her and she continues, “Sure the guy’s smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship at GWU, and he’s top of his class at the academy—”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

"And he’s one of the most good looking guys I've ever met—”

"How is that relevant—"

Luke frowns at her. "And have you met me?"

“My point is,” Garcia’s red lipstick curls into the most reassuring smile, “that you have nothing to worry about because (Your Name) loves you. A lot.”

Spencer perks up. “You really think so?”

“I know so. I see the way they look at you, and if that’s not love I don’t know what is," She shrugs, "And just because they’re talking doesn’t mean they’re into him.”

There's a collective nod of agreement and Spencer sags in relief. Of course they're right. He knows they are.

If you think about it, technically, he's got the advantage. You've known each other longer, bonded and shared experiences together good and bad, and you’re emotionally and even physically intimate with each other (something he's especially proud of, considering how long it takes you both to warm up to others).

And who knows? This is probably temporary! Whatever this is, the connection you seem to instantly make with Intern (faster than when you two had met, he realizes with a needle to his heart) is short-term at best. It'll peter out eventually, like most friendships do.

It’s sad, but a cruel fact of life.

(Is this selfish, wishful thinking? Nah.)

They’re right, there is no need to worry, Spencer thinks as a weight lifts off his chest, finally able to breathe. You love him and he loves you and eventually, everything will go back to normal.

There’s nothing to worry about.

—

The world’s ending.

“It’s really not.”

Yes, it is.

“Doc, come on.”

“Do not ‘Doc’ me,” Spencer grumbles, lifting his head from the comfort of his arms. He grimaces at Luke. “You didn’t see the way they looked at him. The way they talk about him.”

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since you’ve taken Intern under your wing, and he’s had enough. If Hell is real, this is it. For days, he’s tried to resume some form of normalcy, and he was never one to be bold but desperate times call for desperate measures as he asks you out for lunch or invites you out on dates, even stuff he wouldn’t normally do because they’re more your thing. Something, anything to get you away from Intern. But...

At work: “Hey Spence, I'm teaching Intern (menial task that a 4 year old could do). Would you like to help—”

During break: “I’m taking Intern out for lunch. He’s still new to town, and I thought he could use a tour—”

In bed: “Did you know Intern’s a huge fan of Star Wars—”

Snap, and there went his patience.

Intern this, Intern that.

Spencer could tolerate this at work. At least he’s saving lives, being productive, getting paid. But under his roof? In his bed?

That was the last straw.

Spencer's not one to wish ill on another, he's not like that. But if something happened to the guy, say, get injured in the field, perhaps from a "stray" bullet, he'd be intern-ally grateful. Heh.

"Hey, you good?"

Spencer sighs, swiping a hand over his face and turning back to Luke. "Yeah, why?"

Luke waves a hand at his face, eyebrow raised, "For a second there, you kind of had a scary look on your face."

"Did I? Weird."

"Right," Clearly unconvinced, Luke brushes it off, deciding to get to the root of the matter. "As I was saying, I still think you have nothing to worry about. Although, I do think it's a little weird that (Your Name) is talking about Intern as much as you say they are." He offers Spencer a little smile, his hand falling heavy on his shoulder. It's the most comforting touch he's had in two weeks. "I'm not one to talk, but I suggest you speak to them. I'd also be uncomfortable if my partner were talking up someone else."

Spencer blinks, squints at Luke, before gripping his hand and standing up. "Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

"You can stand to mention it more often," Luke shrugs, eyes crinkling with amusement as Spencer lets go and heads for the door.

"Noted."

—

Spencer nearly goes feral when he finds you.

Of course you're with him.

He searched the floor like a bloodhound, discovering you've been on your feet almost the entire day, running around the office, up and down the elevators, finishing your work and helping around. You must be exhausted. It's because of this he tracks you to your favorite break room, mostly quiet save for the buzzing drip of the old coffeemaker. He knows you need to be alone sometimes, recharge those social batteries.

So when he bursts into the room like he would hunting an unsub, eyes quickly scanning the immediate space, he expects nothing less but you. What he did not anticipate was to find you, just as soft and pretty as ever under the fluorescent lighting, leaning against the counter and sipping daintily at your favorite mug.

With Intern standing a little too close to his liking.

“Hey, Spencer,” You chirp as you lower your coffee mug, lips glossy from your drink. Spencer's quick to shake his stupor―he can’t afford to be distracted, but it’s difficult when you’re beaming at him, clearly excited. You nod at the home-wrecker, “Me and Intern here were just talking about demonology and he’s got this interesting theory on werewolves―" Lycanthropy? Are you fucking kidding him right now?

Just when he thought he couldn't hate the guy any more.

"CanItalktoyou?" It comes out rushed as Spencer gasps between breaths, leaving no room to second guess himself.

"Sure," You blink at his urgent tone.

For a second, you watch him expectantly, and Spencer's gaze darts between you and Intern. "Alone?"

"Oh! Okay. Be gone," You wave Intern off, and when you place a hand on his shoulder, Spencer sees red. Or green in this case.

Intern doesn't resist, but the noise Spencer releases is animalistic because the guy can’t seem to read the room, questioning you as you gently shove him towards the door. "What about the thing―"

"We'll talk about that later."

"But you still need to show me how to―"

"Don't worry, Intern. Just wait for me, I'll show you once the adults are done talking."

"You know at some point you're gonna have to call me by my name."

"Nah. If we get to call Luke a newbie, we get to call you Intern. Also I do not know how to say your first name."

"You could just call me St―"

Enough of this. Spencer closes the last stretch of distance, batting your hand away from Intern’s shoulders as he kicks him out himself, slamming the door in his face. Spencer turns on his heel to face you, caging you both. “You―” He pants, chest heaving for air.

“Me?”

“You-him-we―”

You’re unfazed, simply nodding at him and his odd behavior. If anything, you’re enjoying this as your lips twitch in a poor attempt to withhold your amusement, trying to cover it with a slurp of your cup. Then again, it’s not everyday you get to see Spencer, face flushed from exertion, speechless as he gasps for breath.

(At least not at work… In the break room specifically.)

It takes a minute as Spencer swallows a few times, but his heart’s erratic and it’s not just from running through the entire building. When he’s got enough air, he blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Your brow shoots up. “What?”

“Did I forget something important? Upset you in some way?”

“No? I don’t think so?” You frown at him, your answers more like questions.

It only spurs him on, and though his tone is frantic and his eyes just as wild as his hair, you’re more intrigued than frightened. Definitely confused.

“Okay, but you know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you too but Spence, what’s this about?" Setting down your mug, you look at him like he's grown another head.

Spencer sighs, "I just… you…" He frowns, glancing between you, the floor, and the empty space between you.

Spencer Reid is a man of words. Many, many words, according to all his friends and his coworkers. Mainly knowledge―he's never been great with feelings―but as you gaze at him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts, he wants to melt into the floor. There's not a hint of annoyance on your features, your eyes warm and inviting.

He's so in love with you.

Then like scripture the words come, natural without much stuttering or hesitancy. He recounts the last two weeks. The internship so far, the times you've left Spencer behind for him, the times you just talked about him, like the guy (practically a stranger) is your new best friend. Usually, pretty people make him tongue-tied and you do―god, you do―but at the same time only you make it so easy. Talking, expressing without fear of―

"Pfft―"

―Judgement. Pausing mid-sentence, Spencer gawks as your nose twitches and your blink rate increases. You purse your lips, a hand slapped over your mouth as it threatens to break out into a grin.

"Are you-are you laughing right now?" When he just poured his feelings out to you?

That does it. You keel over, peels of laughter coming like a tsunami, crashing into him and Spencer loves your laugh but not when it's at him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," you wheeze, gripping your stomach. Spencer pouts. There's even tears in your eyes. "But you're telling me this is all because you're jealous?"

He stutters, "Well-I-no-It’s just…" He wants to say ‘you're mine’, but as your eyes crinkle he knows there’s no need.

"That's kinda hot."

"Wha-really?" Wide-eyed, Spencer squeaks as you step closer to him, backing him into the door. His hands come up to his chest in a kitten-like manner yet at the same time protective―you'd never hurt him and you both know that―but you admit your initial reaction was poor when he laid his feelings bare.

“Ahhhh Babe, you know there’s no one else for me but you.” Spencer blushes and you chuckle, taking his hands in yours. He let's you. “Also, as adorable as Intern is, one, I think I’d be able to tell if he was hitting on me, and two, he’s not really my type.”

Spencer swallows, “And what exactly is your type?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Looking him up and down, you step closer, enough that your breath puffs against his chin. You smell like cheap coffee. “Tall, handsome doctors with messy, brown hair―” You lightly tug at one of his stray curls and he bites back a smile.

“―and a cute nose―” Your hand moves to cup his cheek, bringing him down to peck the tip of his nose. It scrunches as Spencer breaks out into giggles.

“―Who can recite classic literature. Who can bake like he belongs on The Great British Baking Show but can’t cook for shi―”

“Okay! Thank you, I get it,” Spencer says, almost completely relaxed now.

“Good,” You nod with finality. “And for your information, I wasn’t trying to make you jealous."

He raises an eyebrow. "So you just abandoned me and talked about another guy for the hell of it?"

Spencer's tone is casual, joking even but you know better. There's underlying bitterness and hurt and your heart squeezes because you did that. "No, of course not. There is a reason behind all that.“

“What could possibly excuse you going above and beyond your job as a mentor―”

“I was trying to set you guys up.”

Spencer deadpans. “Set me up? With him?” Oh god, he knows you’re weird, but he’s never considered you to be outright insane (is it weird he still loves you?).

As if reading his thoughts, you roll your eyes, “Spencer, how many friends do you have outside the team?”

“Not a lot.” No hesitation, but he accepted the fact a long time ago.

“Yeah and that’s okay. But if you’d talk to Intern, you’ll find you two have a lot in common. I know he’s younger than us, but he’s a good kid, real smart,” You give him a meaningful look and shrug, “Not like IQ 187 smart but he could definitely hold a conversation with you.”

Spencer murmurs, pulling you in so you're chest to chest, “This entire time, you were really trying to make us friends?”

You nod, your expression a mix of giddiness and hope that makes whatever feelings he felt before, the confusion and―yes, fine―the jealousy, dissolve like sugar in water. Spencer sinks into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your soap. Of course you had good intentions. Of course you wanted to do something nice for him.

Fuck, he loves you.

“So… we good?”

Spencer huffs, “I hope you realize how much I suffered the past few weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then yes, we’re good,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”

“And?”

His brow furrows and he pulls back, meeting your eyes. “And what?”

“Will you try to be friends?” You look at him expectantly.

Spencer opens his mouth to answer, a definitive no on his tongue, but then you’re giving him puppy-dog eyes and before he realizes it, “Okay.”

Wait, no. That is not what he meant to say.

“Yeah!” You throw your arms around him, and Spencer can’t stop you, grunting as you basically swing him around like a rag doll. But he finds he doesn’t care when you set him back down because you’re happy, happy for him, grinning ear to ear as you babble, “I can already tell you two are gonna be the best of friends! You guys have so much to talk about, all that nerdy stuff. Maybe even debate! And we could play chess and―”

There’s a knock and you both turn, a voice muffled by the door, “Hey, guys? I don’t want to interrupt in case you’re boning, but you didn’t exactly tell me where to wait for you? God, I hope you guys aren’t boning. Please tell me you’re not boning right now.”

You groan, “No Intern, we’re not boning! Right-uh-go ahead and meet me back at the office, I’ll be right with you.” You turn back to Spencer, sending him an apologetic look. “I will see you later, okay? And since you’ve been such a patient and understanding partner,” You plant him one last kiss before patting his cheek, and his eyes widen as your voice lowers in the way you know drives him crazy, your eyes glinting with mischief, “I’ll make it up to once we get home. Bye, love you!”

Before Spencer can fully register your words, you're out the door, cackling as you leave him to compose himself, his face beet red from running the possibilities. By the time he emerges from the break room, you’re long gone.

“Hi, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer almost snarls, cursing under his breath. Just when he thought the day was getting better. He turns back.

Intern stands tall, relaxed and shoulders back, black tie loose and cheap white-collar button up slightly wrinkled. No doubt from working hard and following your instructions throughout the day. Spencer respects the work ethic at least. Meanwhile, the younger man eyes him, and he’s certain it’s not from intimidation but with curiosity.

Spencer doesn’t linger on that. He’s used to it, not being intimidating to others.

He continues, “It’s nice to finally talk to you, one on one I mean. I’m a fan of your work. Seven degrees, huh?”

“Yeah,” Spencer says curtly. Recalling the earlier conversation with you, he stamps down his irritation and tries to extend an olive branch. “How did you know?”

“It’s the internet, sir,” Intern raises an eyebrow, offering an innocent smile.

“Right,” Spencer returns it with an awkward one of his own, “Hey, sorry for... literally kicking you out before. That was completely unprofessional.”

Intern waves him off, “No, it’s cool. I totally get it. I’m flattered, by the way.”

Spencer frowns. “Flattered?”

“Well, it’s not everyday you find out your superior’s jealous of you.”

Spencer blinks, and it takes all his experience as a profiler to mask his embarrassment. “You heard that.”

“The FBI’s got thin walls,” Intern shrugs and steps towards him. “Although I have to say, Agent (Your Last Name) is wrong about one thing.” Stopping short in front of him, for the first time Spencer is close enough to note the moles dotting his face. “They can’t tell that I’m flirting with them.”

He starts down the hall after you, and Spencer’s eyes trail after him as his brow furrows, until realization slams into him and his jaw drops. “Wait, you...”

“Oh and since (Your Last Name) wants us to be friends, I think we could be on a first-name basis,” He pauses to look back at Spencer, watching with a crooked smile as the older man sputters.

“So, you can call me Stiles, sir.”

Then once again, Spencer is left behind, frozen in the hallway as he processes what just happened.

And the next time he finds you and Special Agent Stilinski in the same room, whether it’s crowded or not, Spencer does not hesitate to cling to your side, putting as much distance between the intern and you as he can. Spencer’s grateful you don’t question it.

There may not be anyone else for you, but that doesn’t mean no one will try.

―

AN: ahhhhh thanks anon!! There was a similar request then i saw this tiktok (and listened to this tiktok the entire time) and i combined them. Id also like to emphasize that my version of reader is neutral across the board, race, gender, etc.

Yes, i have a type. No, i will not be taking criticism.

Been hella overwhelmed with classes and work so here’s my way of destressing. Also suggest checking those tiktoks if you wanna understand me :))) also you mean to tell me i have to write the threesome myself?? Bs tbh 😔

watched 15x4 and i was so sad when Spencer addressed Luke as his coworker like no bitch hes your new bro stfu

and i have no doubt that stiles and spencer would be one of the best crossover duos given the chance

#spencer reid x reader #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg x y/n #matthew gray gubler x oc #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg fic #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

Note

oh beloved writer can you please write a christmas date imagine for will poulter (even though it’s still summer) just pure fluff, where the reader and will go out to like a diner and then go buy a tree for their apartment (it’s their first christmas living together) and set it up and dance to christmas music and it’s super domestic and soft and fluffy thank you bff

Of course, my love! And hey, if Christmas in July can be a thing, so can Christmas in August. And oh boy, I made this one so sweet you might get cavities, so just, beware of that.

~~~~~~~~~~

You were excited, to put it lightly. This was the first Christmas you and you partner, Will, would be having while living together. You knew it was cheesy, but you wanted it to feel special.

You made reservations at this really fancy restaurant in the fanciest part of town. A bit over the top on your part, but you wanted to make this Christmas one to remember fondly.

You still haven't gotten a tree yet, so that was on your to-do list as well. You hoped there would be some nice trees to choose from.

Some people would've probably thought you were going mad with how much you wanted everything to be perfect, and yeah, you kind of were. But you completely ignored your logic and reasoning.

You bought a really nice outfit for yourself to wear to the restaurant, Christmassy but not too Christmassy, you weren't wearing reindeer antlers or red and green bells. It was simple, may or may not to somewhat match Will's outfit that he was going to wear.

With Will's hand in yours, you walked to your car and headed to the restaurant and got there a few minutes early, which was historical for you. You smiled along with Will as you entered the warm building, a pleasant contrast from the winter cold outside. "Hi! Reservation for L/n?" You asked bubbly, the evening already going so well that you were sure nothing could dampen your spirits.

It took a minute for the hostess to check, as the place was fairly busy due to the holidays. "Um, I'm sorry, I don't see your name here."

You immediately tensed, a half a second of anger bolting through you before you simply smiled understandingly. "Can you double check, please? I'm certain it's there, I called this in a week ago." You chuckled nervously.

"I'm sorry, but there is no reservation under L/n."

Your smiled dropped, your eye involuntarily twitching a couple times before your cleared your throat. "That...that can't be right."

Will turned to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. It happens. We can just go somewhere else." He smiled softly. You frowned in response, turning back to the hostess with pleading eyes, only to get a tight lipped smile as another apology.

You hung your head for a second, before walking out of the building at a quick pace, dead silent as you sat back in your car. Will cautiously got into the car, anxiously anticipating your eventual release of your frustration.

"What the fuck?!" You yelled into your steering wheel, causing Will to jump at the sudden outburst, even when he was expecting it. "I booked that table a week ago! Will, you were right next to me when I called the place!" You pleaded to no one, feeling defeated and pissed off. "Ugh..." You drawled out, collapsing against your seat.

Will couldn't help but chuckle at your cute pouting face, reaching over to gently massage your thigh. "It's okay, darling! This is just a minor setback. I'm sure there are other places we can go."

Yes, there were other places you could go, none of them fancy restaurants. You felt even more defeated when you had to settle for some fast food place. This is absolutely not how you wanted this evening to go.

You stared down at your burger and fries with distain. "This should be an overpriced steak at an overpriced fancy restaurant with live music, arrogant chefs and overly nice waiters who wear really fancy suits and ties." You mumbled.

Will raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound quite as nice as being in an almost empty fast food place with no one to bother us. And I quite like my food, I haven't found a single hair in it, so it's practically 5-star."

You rolled your eyes as you chuckled at his silliness. "At least we still get to pick out a Christmas tree, that should be fun."

"Hopefully we won't get hypothermia out in this weather. So, what type of tree are you thinking we get?"

You smiled dreamily. "I've always wanted a full, thick Frasier fir."

"Ambitious. A Frasier fir it is."

It might've been a bit too ambitious, because when you got to one of the only places in town that sold Christmas trees, there were no such trees in sight. They had all been sold out apparently. No worry, there would probably be one at another place. Nope, none there. So, you drove to the last place in town and lo and behold, no thick firs in sight.

"I think the world's against me."

Will trapped you in a hug from behind as you stood dumbfounded at the selection of trees available. Some of them could give Charlie Brown's Christmas tree a run for its money.

"What about that one?" Will pointed towards the corner of the small field you two stood in.

You laughed when you finally saw what he was looking at. The tree was a fir, but it looked so bare that you could call it a Charlie Brown tree. "You can't be serious."

"I'm deadly serious." He smirked, letting you go to jog eagerly to the pitiful looking tree. You chuckled sadly as he held onto it, the thing wasn't even as tall as Will, and even skinnier. "Ain't it a beauty?" He said in a slightly Australian accent, almost cringing at himself.

No.

"I guess."

The look of pure childlike joy on Will's face, you couldn't deny him that stupid tree. It was so small, you could probably fit it in your car, but you didn't want to clean up all the needles it would shed. It fastened to the roof of your car easily, too easily.

By the time you had set it up in your living room with Will, the tree kind of grew on you; it was like an ugly dog, so ugly it was cute, you supposed. Once it had all the decorations on, it didn't look too bad, but it still wasn't what you hoped for. It seemed this whole day you planned out to the T, nothing went the way you wanted it to, and that was a bit disheartening. What annoyed you, surprisingly, was Will's overwhelming optimism. Usually, it was endearing, but today was not one of those days where you needed optimism.

"You okay, Y/n?" Will asked intuitively.

"It's just...this day went to shit. How can you be so...perfect?"

Will blushed at your phrasing, but he knew what you meant. "I was annoyed with certain things today, the restaurant issues, for sure. But, it wasn't enough to put me in a bad mood all day. I chose to let it go so that we could have a good time, that's all."

You frowned, suddenly feeling really guilty. "I was in such a bad mood all day." You huffed, taking a seat on your couch. "I ruined this whole day..."

"No!" Will rushed over to you. "I didn't mean it like that, I-"

"I know, but you're right. I shouldn't have acted like such a child. I'm sorry."

Will smiled sadly. "Darling, you certainly did not ruin anything. None of this was your fault and you behaved how any normal person would. But even after all that happened, I still had an amazing time. We had a nice, quiet dinner. And we got our own little Charlie Brown tree." He chuckled. "Didn't you have a nice time too?"

You smiled sheepishly. "I did."

"We don't have to go to the fanciest restaurant or buy the nicest Christmas tree to have a nice time together. We could've stayed inside all day and I wouldn't have cared, just being here with you is what makes me the happiest."

You couldn't help but lean forwards to kiss him, so incredibly grateful that he was in your life. "Well, I'd say our first Christmas will be one to remember."

"Oh, it's not over yet." He added, causing you to furrow your brows in curiosity. He only winked as he walked to the other side of the room, fiddling with the record player.

"No..." You groaned playfully as Last Christmas by Wham! echoed through your apartment.

Will nodded, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. "Oh yeah, come on." He held out his hand to you, motioning for you to take it. You giggled as he started to lip sync the lyrics, shimmying his shoulders as he still waiting for you to take his hand.

"Oh my god." You blushed, finally taking his hand and him instantly pulling you up and grabbing you by the waist to pull you into a hug, violently swaying to the music. "Will!" You laughed uncontrollably.

"What? You don't like my dance moves?" He grinned.

"You're gonna break me if you keep doing that." You grinned back.

Will shook his head, toning down the fast swaying and settled into a relaxing sway, looking into your eyes fondly. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You blushed, resting your head and hiding your face on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat much better music than any Christmas song you've ever listened to.

~~~~~~~~~~

bruh...this...was so fluffy I almost died. I hope me almost dying of fluffiness was worth it to you, @poulterfilms

#will poulter #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

That last bthb piece you wrote was just *chef's kiss* perfection, magnifique, I want more!!!

Thank you for the ask, I am so glad you liked it!

One Month Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: jealousy, forced sedation mention, fear of being drugged, pills (tylenol), low-grade fever, angry character, being kicked out, wound imagery, broken bones, infection

Hero paced as he waited for Supervillain to wake up again. He was mad, angry, even to the point of ferocity. That sick, slimey bastard had been captivating his girlfriend's attention for days. Not that he consciously did it, and that was the reason Hero inwardly chastised himself for those inappropriate feelings. It wasn't Supervillain's fault, but someone had to take the blame.

So he waited impatiently for the supervillain's eyes to open, so he would be conscious of the way he was changing Civilian. Not that they were major changes, or changes in appearance or personality- she was still breathtakingly gorgeous and so full of love and compassion, deeply imbedded in that grouchy attitude. In all honesty the only way she so-called "changed" was because her undivided attention was completely and utterly focused on one being the house that was not Hero.

Was he selfish? Absolutely. Was it wrong? Was it wrong to feel this way towards someone who saved the girl he cared so much about? Definitely, but it couldn't be stopped. Anger and rage were settled, and so now it was time for revenge.

Supervillain blinked open his eyes in the middle of one of Hero's passes in front of his bed. The hero bounded over, pressed his fist into the wall, and hovered over Supervillain's awakening figure.

Slowly, the sleep-filled eyes cleared and became more aware of their surroundings as the grogginess melted away. They looked around, green irises taking in every feature of the bedroom as if they had never viewed such a place before- which they had, each and every time Supervillain pushed through unconsciousness. But of course, he never remembered, for these brief moments of loopy consciousness didn't have absorbent qualities.

Soon, those same foresty eyes met Hero's face. He smiled, imagining the fear that Supervillain was feeling. Though, it wasn't for certain, the subtle clenches of his jaw signalized those emotions.

"How are you feeling bud?" Hero asked, assuming a kind tone. Supervillain gave a wobbly smile as he gaze fell downcast. Hero's heart, the last bits of sympathy for the man, dropped.

Supervillain obviously was in pain and the fact that he was laying on his backside probably did not help.

Hero picked Supervillain up, flipped him over, and dropped him roughly on the bed. Supervillain bounced one, coughing and groaning as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Hero's arrogant smirk faded for a moment before upturning again. He traced his fingers over the festering wound and dug his fingers in.

Supervillain screamed, but Hero was quickly able to cover his mouth with his hand. He tried to ignore Supervillain's teeth and tongue as they desperately tried to remove the humanoid gag.

"This is for turning my girlfriend into your personal maid," Hero growled like he was the villain in the story, not Supervillain. Oh was this so wrong, but the unreleased rage overcame those thoughts of humane empathy.

Supervillain whimpered even louder as Hero's fingers met with the cracked bones. He kicked out with his legs, arms punching into the mattress.

"Yeah, how you like that huh?" Hero taunted, grabbing Supervillain's ear and pulling it down. Supervillain's whole head went with it and a loud crack echoed throughout the room. Supervillain quit writhing for a moment, stunned slightly.

Hero didn't care. He just kept on torturing Supervillain until a horrified voice interrupted him.

"What are you doing?!"

Hero spun around, meeting the gaze of his mortified girlfriend.

"What are you doing?!" She exclaimed again, crouching down to look in Supervillain's dull eyes. They were without any emotion as they blankly stared at Civilian.

Hero felt that anger in his chest, but it was nullified by the horrific dawning of his deeds. He kicked a man when he was already down.

Never do that. That was the first rule in the Hero's Code, even before not engaging in any villainous parties or organizations unless otherwise stated by the Agency.

He broke the code.

But didn't he before? Taking in Supervillain?

Civilian stood up abruptly, grabbing the collar of Hero's shirt and pushing him back, fire in her eyes.

"Why would you do that?" She snarled, pushing him out the door and into the hallway. Hero was practically rendered helpless by shock and the reality of his wrongdoings.

"You-you," Hero tried to defend himself in the most futile manner. "He took you away from me!"

But still, his defenses were weak.

"How?" Civilian asked, thrusting both hands against Hero's chest. "How in the world did he take me away from you? He hasn't spoken a word to me! Or even actually looked at me."

"You have been coddling him for days," Hero replied, rushed.

Civilian gaped, throwing her hands in the air. "Okay Wicked Witch of the West-"

"Hey!"

Civilian smirked. "He saved my life and now I am trying to save his. I am sorry I haven't given you your required twenty-four hours of hugs and kisses."

Hero was silent, but a sudden pull on his shirt ended the split moment of awkward silence.

"What are you doing?" He asked, digging his heals into the ground, but Civilian grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the frontdoor.

"This is my house and I can't clearly trust you with my patient. Get." She pushed Hero out the door and slammed it in his face.

Hero slid down the door, hand trailing down the smooth material. Tears spiked at his eyes as he landed on the doorstep in a sobbing heap.

《~~》

Civilian walked over to the bed and checked on the wound. It was bleeding- just a small trickle of crimson liquid. He was unconscious again, head pressed into the downy pillow.

She refrained from rubbing his head like she would do for her boyfriend. Hero's actions were unjustifiable and utterly cruel, but that did not mean that she would betray him.

But still, tender loving care was the only way for him to actually heal.

She grabbed some numbing ointment and rubbed it around the reddened, tender skin surrounding the wound. Then she lathered the interior, avoiding the exposed ribs, and placed an icebag around the whole thing.

Supervillain didn't wake, his face remaimed placid and relaxed as he slept. Civilian with hands of professional talent, gently opened his mouth and placed a thermometer under his tongue. It beeped, reading a prime number of 101.9. It wasn't too bad, but likely wasn't fun either.

"Wake up," Civilian jostled Supervillain's shoulder until his green eyes broke open lethargically. He looked around, squinting, until they fell on Civilian's face.

"Get away," he growled, hugging himself protectively. His teeth bared, jaw clenched as he angrily stared Civilian down. She looked away, sighing.

"Listen," she said. "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you even recognize me?"

Supervillain observed Civilian for a while before nodded slowly. "You're Civilian," he mumbled.

"Mhm," Civilian hummed as she put a couple pills in his hands. He looked at them skeptically before throwing them half-way across the room.

Civilian frowned, looking at the discarded, white tablets. "You need those," she said.

"You're going to drug me," the supervillain accused, fear radiant in his gaze.

"It's tylenol," Civilian sighed, giving him a couple more. He stared at them, calculating, before shoving them into his mouth- not even bothering with water.

"Just don't hurt me when I'm out again, please," he begged before closing his eyes, asleep.

Civilian smiled. The pills truly were Tylenol, but he was just so exhausted and tired that he gave up. Poor guy.

Tentatively, she pulled the covers over his bare shoulders and went to the kitchen to make some soup.

#supervillain whumpee #civilian caretaker #injured supervillain #hero whumper #heros and villains #jealous hero #supervillain x civilian #hero x civilian #angsty romance #between civilian and hero that is

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bookstantrash · 3 years

Text

A/N: Next week uni exams start and I won’t be able to write for a while, so I did my best to finish this chapter on time before I go MIA for some time.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You and Smells like petrichor and paper, part one, two and three of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

The sound of music

Cassian could not sleep. His mind kept coming back to the greenhouse.

To Nesta and her lavender and vanilla scent and how lovely she looked amidst the flowers.

He would not lie to himself and say he did not let his lips linger a little bit longer than necessary on her temple.

Or that he had not felt some resemblance of male pride on seeing her wearing his jacket.

That he had not imagined her wearing it after they had come back home from a ball or one of Gywn’s operas.

That he had not imagined Nesta tucked close to his side, his arms around her and a smile on his face as he heard her talk about her day.

His imagination, it seemed, was his worst enemy.

“You are delusional Cassian” he mumbled to himself “Delusional”

Sighing, he touched the pressed daisy chain again. He had taken it out of his drawer and left it in front of him as he worked on some papers regarding his properties, thinking the numbers, reports of complaints or requests would help tire him out enough to make sleep come.

Cassian had no such luck. He worked until the entire pile had been properly looked through, and even three glasses of his strongest brandy could not make his thoughts of Nesta go away.

Nesta, who was currently sleeping in one of Pemberley’s guest rooms after much freeting from Mrs.Potts and her friends about catching a cold. Cassian had made sure to have her room properly warmed and a glass of hot chocolate delivered to her first thing after they arrived from the greenhouse.

Her friends had been delighted to spend the night, and he had almost asked them to forego the inn completely and just stay at Pemberley for the rest of the month. But he did not want to mess their schedule and ruin their trip. He knew that Gwyn was on a short vacation, as were Emerie and Balthazar, and Nesta could not stay away from her younger sister, Elain, for too long, given that they had no male relative to look after their household and wellbeing in the meantime.

Maybe a trip to the kitchens would help him. A midnight snack was bound to make his sleep come soon, and he was sure he had heard one the maids saying that Chef Ramsay had baked chocolate cookies.

Safely putting the bookmark back in his drawer, Cassian only bothered to throw a robe on before quietly making his way down the hallways. He was not worried about being shirtless, given that most of the house was for certain sleeping.

Deciding to take the long way to the kitchen in hopes of tiring himself, he was surprised to pass by the library and see light coming from underneath the doors. Thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to check the place in their rounds, Cassian opened the oak doors to find the candle light. He could not risk a fire happening in the library out of all places.

He followed the faint glow until he found himself with a most surprising — but very welcome — sight.

Nesta was currently curled up on his favourite chair reading a book in nothing but a thin nightgown and he momentarily forgot to be annoyed at her for not covering herself after being caught in the rain if only because by the way she was seated he had a privileged view of her bare legs.

Cassian knew he should announce his presence, his conscience yelling at him how improper and scandalous it was to see her in such a private moment. But he let himself stare at her for another minute, commiting to mind every single detail, from the way the ribbons in her nightgown accentuated her waist — he recalled how small it had seemed when they had danced at Feyre’s ball, his hand spanning nearly halfway across — to how the white colour made her eyes look more grey than blue in the candlelight.

“Fancy seeing you here” Cassian said in greeting, clearing his throat.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, quickly scrambling to straighten herself up when she realised she was not alone.

“I am sorry, you had said I could come whenever I wanted and I—”

"Could not sleep?” he asked, and Nesta only nodded.

Oh dear Mother, she wanted to crawl into a hole on the ground and disappear. Why was it that she was always finding herself in embarrassing situations when it came to Cassian?

It was true she could not sleep, her mind replaying her evening with Cassian, from the moment she stepped on the library to when he kissed her temple in the greenhouse.

She had tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her creative mind conjuring images of a future with him.

Of long strolls in the garden and picnics by the lake.

Of hours spent reading quietly side by side in the library.

Of running her hands in his silky hair, coming up with new ways to style it.

Of Cassian’s coat around her shoulders and her head on his as they came back from a late evening of dancing or parties with their friends.

Why could she not stop thinking about him? Why had he not left her mind since they had first met each other and why did her heart skip a beat whenever he was nearby?

She looked at him, flushing all over when she noticed that he would have been completely naked from the waist up were it not for a robe, which had loosened up a bit, revealing a bit of his naked chest.

For Cauldron’ sake, did he not own a shirt?

“What are you reading?” he inquired, and she quickly averted her gaze from his chest.

Little did she know he was also trying very hard to not stare at her bare shoulders or her chest, cursing once again whoever had gifted her such nightgown.

He could bet his fortune it had been Emerie, recognizing the modice’s preference of off shoulders designs.

“Oh, it’s a romance” Nesta felt her ears getting even hotter “By Sellyn Drake. You have a rather large collection here. Some are even first editions”

“She was a dear friend of Pemberley’s previous Lady” Cassian said, motioning for her to take a seat as he told her the story “The Lord sponsored her, both because he saw how her writing brought joy to his wife and also Lady Drake’s talent.”

“She soon became extremely famous and still kept sending the previous Lord her books even after his wife passed away” Cassian smiled faintly “He sold Pemberley and moved, but I kept the library as it was, just adding my own books here. Lady Drake comes once a while to visit and get inspiration for new novels, although she says she is to retire soon.”

“Y-you know her?” Nesta’s voice had gotten an uncharacteristic high pitch “You know Sellyn Drake personally?!”

“She is a very annoying old lady” Cassian said rolling his eyes “Always asking me if I will not take a wife so she will have someone more interesting to discuss her books with whenever she visits.”

“I cannot believe you are friends with one of my favourite authors” Nesta said in disbelief.

“But I would not have pegged you for a romance reader” she added, arching an eyebrow.

“I could not very well leave those books here to gather dust, could I?” he answered, squirming on his seat.

“Tell me, did the scary General Commander of the British Armies shed a tear in any of them?” her voice had a teasing tone and Cassian was almost left speechless by that fact alone.

Nesta inclined her body in his direction, apparently having forgotten she was not wearing modest attire at all and that Cassian was desperately trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of her chest.

“I promise not to tell anyone if you did”

And then Nesta Archeron gave a little sideway smile that made Cassian lose his breath.

He did not know what he had done that made her take such liberties with him, but he for sure was not going to complain.

“I did not cry” he finally managed to answer, angling his body in her direction and smirking when he saw a faint blush adorning her cheeks “But I will not be heartless and say it did not move me a little.”

They were close once again. So close Nesta could see that his eyes had little green speckles on them and that the brown looked like molten chocolate.

They were eyes one could drown and all she wanted to do was to indeed drown on them.

“Next time Lady Drake plans on coming to Pemberley I will make sure to invite you too” Cassian said softly, straightening himself “It is quite late. I will accompany you to your room.”

As if on cue, Nesta yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“I only have one chapter left” she tried to argue, suppressing another yawn.

“Such a headstrong lady you are” he smiled and took the candlelight “The book will still be here tomorrow.”

Nesta followed him begrudgingly, twisting her nose in annoyance even though she was yet again holding back another yawn. Cassian thought she looked like a tiny angry kitten, laughing internally.

They walked back to her room in a comfortable silence, and sooner than he would have liked they had arrived.

“Well, then, here we are. Delivered safe and sound”

“Thank you, your grace” Nesta opened the door but did not get inside, as if she too did not want to part with him.

“Have a goodnight of sleep, my lady” he said, dropping a kiss on her hand before he could dwell too long on it.

“Goodnight, your grace” she breathlessly answered, finally getting inside and leaving Cassian standing outside her door.

Needless to say, both fell asleep quickly after that.

~•~

“For Cauldron’ sake are you incapable of sending prior notice of your arrival? And it is way too early to be drinking wine Morrigan, even for you”

Cassian had arrived to have breakfast and found Rhysand’s cousin casually seated at table, twirling her glass of wine at nine in the morning.

“I came here straight from Vivian’s. It was a long journey and I needed the wine. Besides, I am family! I knew you were going to like my surprise visit” Mor blinked at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you” Cassian answered, sitting beside her and promptly dumping a large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate “I take you introduced yourself to my other guests?”

“Of course” she snorted, making Georgiana laugh “Except for Miss Carynthian and Sir Oristian, that is. It seems they went into town early to see something in relation to their business.”

As if on cue, the dining room doors were open and Balthazar and Emerie walked in.

Emerie had opted to wear trousers today — Cassian thought it was to not be belittled by some stupid mercants and show with just who they were dealing with — and a white shirt with long sleeves with a forest green vest. Her curly brown hair was down and she had a gleam in her eyes that told him her business transaction had been a success.

She really was a sight to behold but it still startled him when Mor spat out her wine.

Mor never wasted wine.

“Sorry for our late arrival, Balthazar was being a weakling” Emerie said, sitting in front of a very much flustered Morrigan.

“I was not. You are the one who never lets the other have the upper hand” Balthazar pointed out.

“Please, you know that piece of silk was not worth that much!” she spread jam in a piece of toast, waving the knife in a rather aggressive manner.

“Maybe, but if you keep that up you will gather more enemies than business partners”

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard” she batted her eyelashes innocently, making Balthazar roll his eyes.

“You are Miss Carynthian. The Miss Carynthian?” Mor asked in awe, her coughing fit finally over.

“The one and only. I take you know my shop?” Emerie asked with a smile.

“I absolutely adore your designs!” Mor gushed, and they fell in a very excited talk about gowns and fashion trends.

“Did you have a goodnight of sleep?” Cassian whispered to Nesta, who was seated beside him.

“I did, thank you for your concern, your grace” she answered, grabbing a chocolate cookie “I hope you also had a pleasant sleep?”

“The best sleep I had in years” he winked at her, that sideway smile of hers appearing again.

“Lady Nesta, my brother has told me how brilliantly your dancing is” Georgiana butted in, and Cassian resisted the urge to throttle her.

His younger sister was lucky there were other people present or he would do just that.

“He is too kind, my dancing is not that memorable” Nesta said, a bit embarrassed.

“But my brother never lies!” Georgiana exclaimed, receiving a glare from Cassian “He told me how the whole ballroom stopped to watch you as you danced.”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment your grace”

“It was nothing but the truth” Cassian assured her, sending daggers at Georgiana, who was sweetly seated by his other side as if she had not just told Nesta how infatuated with her he was.

“I wish I had your talent” Georgie sighed “I am really shy at balls and never really want to dance even if I am asked to. I usually throw my dancing card in the trash in fear someone will write their name there.”

“But I love to watch my brothers running from the scary mammas” she added with a devilish grin, failing in a brotherly bickering with Cassian.

Nesta felt her heart break over Georgiana’s fear of dancing. Apart from reading, dancing was one of the few things that brought Nesta joy. It made her feel alive, the music allowing her to get lost on the moment and forget the pressures high society placed upon her.

Dancing made Nesta feel empowered, in control of her own destiny.

Georgiana deserved to feel like that too.

And that is why when Emerie, Gwyn and Mor went shopping together while the gentlemen went horse riding, Nesta proposed that she teach Georgiana how to dance.

“Are you sure of it?” Georgiana asked nervously, glancing around the music room as if someone was going to appear out of nowhere and laugh at her poor performance.

“Rest assured. You will be dancing flawlessly at the end of the day” Nesta gave her a reassuring smile “I am going to take the male role, so please place your hand on my shoulder.”

Georgiana did as instructed, and soon they were dancing.

“You just need to have fun and relax” Nesta said, making Georgiana twirl “Even if you do not know the steps but act like you do nobody will blink. Dancing is not something that is supposed to be suffocating, but to free you.”

“You mean like this?” the young girl asked, and did a step completely opposite of what was expected in a waltz that made Nesta laugh and follow her.

In no time they were not dancing the waltz but just messing around, their laughs and delighted screams filling the room. They were having so much fun that they were oblivious to Cassian watching them from the door.

The gentlemen had returned to Pemberley and decided to move to the game room, their initial amiable horse riding outing transformed into a racing competition whose draw made Balthazar and Azriel — who revealed themselves to be extremely competitive — propose a rematch in a billiard game.

Cassian soon grew tired of watching them betting who would win, deciding to fetch a book to help distract himself. He was called to the music room by the sound of loud laughs, his heart threatening to burst when he saw Nesta and his sister having so much fun.

“When are we to expect a proposal, my lord?” Mrs. Potts said to him, having stopped to welcome him back when she noticed just who he was watching.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” he answered, a soft smile on his face as Nesta dipped Georgiana, making her laugh even louder.

“It is clear as day to all of us how much that lovely lady means to you” the old headmaid replied “I have never seen you happier since she arrived here.”

“I assure you, there is nothing going on between us.”

“Do not let your fears stop you from being happy” Mrs.Potts motherly said, noticing his bitter tone “You more than anyone deserve to be happy and feel loved. And I noticed how she looks at you, I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“Such busybody staff that I have” was all he said, Mrs.Potts smiling and leaving him alone to continue his watch.

But it appeared their talking had warned them of his presence.

“Brother! Were you spying on us?”

“Far from it Georgie. I thought nobody was home but your laughs made me want to investigate” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him “Balthazar and Az are so competitive they were giving me a headache”

“Nesta was teaching me how to dance” Georgiana said, a bright smile on her face.

“I saw it. She is a great teacher” Cassian said, and Nesta had to look away lest he saw how much happy his words had made her.

“I have a great idea!! Why don’t I play music in the pianoforte and you two dance? That way it would be much easier to see how to dance properly”

Nesta panicked at Georgiana’s words. Last time she had danced with Cassian it had been out of spite for his comment. She would not deny that she had found him a pleasant partner or that she had had fun dancing with him, but Nesta doubted he would want to dance with her again.

However, little did she know Cassian could not have been happier than the moment his sister suggested such a thing.

“That is a wonderful idea Georgie” he said to his sister, all the while planning to write to Rhysand concerning an increase in Georgiana’s dowry.

He had already forgiven her words earlier at breakfast.

Didn’t she say she wanted a new horse? He could arrange for one to be delivered first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Georgiana clapped her hands in excitement, leaving them standing in front of each other as she sat by the piano.

“You are not dancing!” she called out, her fingers moving expertly on the piano keys.

Cassian cleared his throat, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Nesta accepted his hand, placing her other on his shoulder.

“You may”

They fell in that pleasant and calming atmosphere as Georgiana played, Cassian leading her effortlessly, but she felt he was cautious, even a little stiff.

“I do not bite, your grace” Nesta said, daring to tease him “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I would not mind if you did” he said back without thinking, his eyes widening as he realised he had said that out loud.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean—” Cassian made to release her hand and step away but Nesta gripped his shoulder harder, stopping him.

“Do not tell me the great General Commander is left without a strategy when it comes to some defenceless lady” Nesta appeared to be nonchalant on the outside, but inside she was apprehensive.

What if she had gone too far? What if he did not see her as a friend? What if he was bothered by her teasing?

But to her relief he gave her that smirk of his that made her blood boil, stepping closer to her, their chests touching.

“For you, I have no strategies.”

And they really began to dance.

The music was still there. Georgiana played beautifully and on another occasion Nesta would have wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen all day to her playing.

But the music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence.

Nesta got lost on him as they danced, the music a faraway background sound.

She got lost on his bright smile and noticed he had dimples.

She got lost on the way he moved with her, a body made for brutality which now moved with grace, keeping up with her.

She got so lost on his warm eyes — more green than brown at the moment — that she felt herself moving even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Cassian—” his name left her lips without her consent, and she almost froze when she noticed she had not used his title.

Cassian did not care, his smile only getting brighter.

“You may call me informally. We are friends, are we not Nesta?” he said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” she answered, her body tingling all over at the way he said her name, as if it was a prayer to the Mother.

Georgiana — having taken notice of the rather romantic mood — started a new song as soon as the other finished, neither of the pair paying her no mind.

Next morning, Cassian gave her a new horse, the fastest and most sought out in the market. No one had the barest ideia how he managed to get hold of it so fast, or why he was gifting it to Georgiana.

Neither explained the reason, just shaking on it as if it was a business transaction.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @d0riansgray @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @valkyriewarriors @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae @thalia-2-rose @nestaarcher0n @rowaelinismyotp @julemmaes @dontgetsalmonella @alinaleksanders @lysandra-tiara @inardour @hikari274 @fatimafares123 @angelina-figjam @castielspelvis @lanyjoy-13 @firebirdofscythia @illyrianundercover

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#nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #pride and prejudice AU #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

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purplepenntapus · 3 years

Text

Rating Versions of Harry Osborn: Updated

Wanted to redo this post with a more comprehensive and inclusive list of Harrys

616 Comics:

Just such a good and complex character. The OG Harry. His relationship with Peter just adds so much depth to every Green Goblin arc because of the inherent conflict of Peter knowing he needs to take down Norman Osborn, but not wanting to hurt or lose his best friend. (If you’ve read Kindred no you haven’t.) He’s still... ugly... I’m sorry 616 Harry... I love you so much but they did you dirty... Some artists do their best with what they have but... I’m not a big fan of western comic style in general so that doesn’t help. Has three failed marriages by the time he’s 30 because he’s gay and deeply closeted. 8/10

Spider-Man the Animated Series (1994):

The Harry plotline in this show reeeeally doesn’t feel earned, because the first time we see Harry having an active role in the show, he asks Peter to move in with him because Norman wants him to have a responsible studious roommate (a detail from the comics I was EXTREMELY excited to see play out), and Peter comments that they barely know each other. Ultimately they live together for all of one day before Peter decides to move back in with Aunt May. The next time we see Harry, MJ calls him Peter’s best friend, despite the fact that we haven’t seen Peter hanging out with—or even MENTIONING—Harry since the last episode when they were basically strangers. Really it feels like he’s just there to cause romantic drama as the guy MJ graciously settles for when she gives up on Peter. I found the whole goblin plotline kind of boring and lacking in depth. 3/10

Raimi Trilogy:

I was never interested in Raimi Harry until after I started liking and exploring other versions of Harry, because I just thought he was kinda a shit friend. He’s a pretty strong character overall, but his motivations aren’t as obvious. He’s torn between his love of Peter as his best friend, and his bitterness towards Peter for being the man his father wished he was. I don’t think Raimi Harry really wanted MJ, he just wanted to get back at Peter in a way by taking someone that HE loved. However I feel like his characterization kind of sways back and forth between sympathetic and not depending on how he’s written in the scene, and it disappoints me that the thing that gets him to stop tormenting Peter is the butler telling him out of nowhere that Norman died from his own blade, rather than any real character development on his part. 6/10

Spectacular Spider-Man:

I still haven’t watched all of this show because I... can’t STAND this version of Peter... but I’ve watched many clips with this boy and he’s just... so sweet... He only wants to be loved and keeps getting his heart broken. Deserves better. On everything. He deserves a better father, a better best friend, better love interests, everything. I do really enjoy the way they incorporated 616 Harry’s drug abuse into this show with the Globulin Green, it was a very clever way to incorporate that aspect of his character, but tone it down for younger viewers. I’ve watched the scene of him getting “unmasked” as the Green Goblin about a million times it’s very good. 8/10

Ultimate Spider-Man:

I love him. Most people fear drifting apart from those close to us, so watching Harry struggle with the new and increasing distance between him and Peter as Peter seemingly makes new, “better” friends is downright heartbreaking. Especially when he overhears Sam implying that Peter only hangs out with him for his money which is something he’s clearly experienced a lot. (Seriously Sam what the fuck.) I also love his struggle with Venom throughout the series as a metaphor for his anger and bitterness, it’s never truly gone even when they work hard to remove it. It’s always there to bubble back up under extreme amounts of stress, especially when Norman is involved. (Also this isn’t a Norman review, but USM Norman is the only version of Norman Osborn that has rights and he works hard to be the father Harry deserves.) Had an honest to God meet-cute with Peter like come on???? Its unfortunate how much they cut back Harry’s role in the third and fourth season, I really would have loved to see more of him. Threw a party specifically so he could ignore Peter to his face because he was jealous and I respect that level of pettiness. 9/10

Spider-Man: The New Animated Series

I didn’t think it was possible to create an uglier Harry than 90s Harry but this blonde, fuck-boy lookin creepass came and proved me wrong. Who the FUCK is this?? Doesn’t have any recognizable characteristics of Harry Osborn besides being rich and hating Spider-Man. Also just... look at him. I wouldn’t trust this man anywhere NEAR my drink at a party. #NotMySon -3/10

The Amazing Spider-Man:

He’s okay. I think he has some very emotional scenes and good chemistry with Peter, but it’s dampened by the fact that he wasn’t present in the first film and had to share the second with like two other main plot lines. Ultimately ends up being the least sympathetic version of Harry Osborn because he became the original Green Goblin and killed Gwen, rather than following in his father’s footsteps. That’s not to say he’s a completely unsympathetic character. He has a strong motivator in his fear of death, and I do think the choice they made for his character were interesting and could have developed really well, but they didn’t get the chance since the franchise was dropped. 5/10

PS4 Spider-Man:

ABSOLUTELY ADORE HIM. WISH WE GOT MORE OF HIM. HAVING YOUR EXPECTATIONS OF HARRY OSBORN BROKEN AS YOU SNEAK AROUND NORMAN’S PENTHOUSE AND LEARN THAT HE’S BEEN SECRETLY STRUGGLING WITH A GENETIC DISEASE HE’S BEEN HIDING FROM HIS BEST FRIENDS FOR YEARS WAS -chef’s kiss- GENIUS. PLEASE GIVE US A SECOND GAME WITH VENOM HARRY. 10/10

Marvel’s Spider-Man (2017):

Still easily my favorite version of Harry Osborn. When I first began watching the show I was startled by their decision to make Harry a science genius like Peter because it was so different from their usual dynamic, and many people who aren’t fans of the show point to this as something they dislike. But I actually ended up really loving the decision. It gives a different flavor to Harry in how he reacts to the events of the show and how we interpret his character traits, while still being very inherently Harry Osborn. Harry is jealous of Peter, he loves him dearly, but there’s always this ember of bitter envy ready to burst into anger whenever the plot creates friction between them. This is one of the defining traits of their relationship and in most versions it’s not hard to understand why. Peter has what Harry wants. He’s intelligent, he has potential, and most importantly he’s loved. Peter is the son Harry knows Norman wishes he had, and that creates a wedge between them. Marvel’s Spider-Man changes this dynamic. Harry can easily stand toe-to-toe with Peter in terms of intelligence, and in fact they often work together to create things or solutions Peter couldn’t have come up with on his own. That initial wedge between them isn’t there, creating a very endearing and loving friendship that we know is doomed to sour because it isn’t enough. MSM Harry could be the person Norman wants him to be, and that places the full weight of his father’s impossibly high expectations on his shoulders, always within reach but never quite achievable. So it makes a lot more sense why Peter initially has a low guard towards Norman (as opposed to some other series where Peter seems oddly dismissive of Harry’s justified complaints) and Harry’s own steadfast loyalty to his father. On the surface Norman seems like a perfectly loving parent, he encourages his son, he created an entire school for him when he was wrongfully accused of sabotage, it’s only when you start to dig deeper into their relationship that you see the subtle manipulations and the issues Harry has from constantly chasing his father’s approval. This creates a Harry who is desperate for validation and extremely sensitive to rejection, which colors his relationship with Peter throughout the show. I’m still mad he got nerfed in the second and third seasons because Disney is homophobic. TLDR: I may be biased ... Infinity/10

MCU:

Where is he? Who knows? Man missing in action. ?????/10

#Harry Osborn #spider-man #msm 2017 #did i rant about various Harry Osborns way longer than I intended to? Yes yes I did #if anyone reads this tell me if i missed any prominent Harrys lmao #long post

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talas-starlight · 4 years

Text

Lover - Percy Jackson x Fem!reader

SUMMARY: You’ve crushed on Percy for years, him on the other hand? It’s more of a recent development. That doesn’t mean he likes you any less.

(Older Percy & reader - they're like 21) ALSO idk perfectly what happens in trials of apollo so let’s just ✨ignore that ✨ & this isn’t sexual despite what the title may suggest

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: hi friends this is for @fromthewatertribe ‘s 1k follower event!! Im sure most of you have but if not definitely check out their work!! Its soooo good I promises and ugh their Leo fic?! *chefs kiss* anyway idk if this is any good oop I tried

PROMPTS USED: 9 & 11. (they’re bolded)

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of ptsd & anxiety, kissing stuff lol ish eh idk, mentions of percabeth breakup?? Does that count?

MASTERLIST: here!

An obnoxiously red and orange light filters into the motel room, even with the old and tattered curtains closed, the motels’ sign conquers its way through the fabric. Sighing you flop yourself on the faded, probably twenty-year-old bed. Nose scrunching as some dust raises into the air, consequently letting out a sneeze.

“Bless you.”

“Did you just bless yourself?”

You winced at the reminder someone else was in the room, exhausted after the two-day travel to a motel room in the middle of whoop. “Yeah…”

“You really are something, aren’t you?” At the calm amusement evident in his tone, your heart rate began to slow down. He didn’t think you were crazy.

You let out a breathy laugh. Wow, I wonder how those stains got on the ceiling? Lava monster perhaps? Are those even a thing? Probably.

“Yeah… well, someone has to Jackson.” You glance towards him, he’s sitting at the small, poor excuse of a dining table. Heart rate picking up again as he gives you a small smile, already having his eyes on you this entire time.

“If I don’t, who will?” you continue.

“Touché. In that case, I’ll do the blessing from now on; you deserve a break.” Shooting you a wink. Instantly feeling flustered at his action, you fight the urge to cover your face with your hands.

Oh, Percy, if only you knew you’ve already been blessing me for the past six years.

“Even say…. If we’re in a battle?” you muse.

He gets up from the table and walks towards you. Once he reaches your side of the queen bed, he kneels, grabbing the hand closest to him, while putting his other on top of his heart. “Oh, y/n l/n, even with my dying breath.”

With that, you burst into a fit of laughter. This boy and his sarcasm.

You play along. “Hmmm what a great tale that will be. The one and only, Perseus Jackson, spending his final breath on sweet old y/n l/n. How dare you burden me with such a legacy to live up to! They’ll think I’m your lover, you know. Demigods all around the world will come searching for me, just to gawk at the beauty that stole your heart.”

At this point, Percy has fallen from his kneeling position, completely lying on the ground, overcome with laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Percy! How am I supposed to live with the guilt of knowing I don’t live up to their expectations?! I’m hardly a warrior either, oh the disappointment.”

Gasping for breath, he manages to find his words, “Don’t stress it y/n, you’re plenty beautiful. I just know they’ll all be stunned by your beauty. Don’t sell yourself short… trust me, once they see you, they’ll be envious that my lover was so enraptured by me that you’ll never be able to love again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. Would that be so bad?

Gasping for breath, eventually, both of your laughs die down, leaving you both breathing heavily. “C’mon Percy, let’s get some sleep. Its going to be a long week of scouting for demigods if we’re tired.”

As Percy nods, silently getting up to go to the bathroom to change, but he can’t help but think to himself that he wouldn’t mind if he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with you. No matter how long.

It had been three days since you and Percy arrived in the town you continuously fail to remember the name of. It wasn’t the only thing you were failing at doing either, because it seemed that for some unknown reason, the school that was supposed to arrive here for their camping trip still hadn’t shown up.

“We should send an Iris message to camp. It doesn’t look like they’re showing up any time soon, and by the looks of things, we’re going to need to have them send someone for more supplies.”

Percy sighed, looking out the window. Was this the opportunity he was looking for? Maybe… he knew he’d be a stupid fool to pass it up. Swept up in his new thoughts, he never replied. “Percy?”

Without even looking at you, he nodded, turning to go to the bathroom, “Yeah sure, I’ll go into the bathroom and make the call.”

Humming in acknowledgement as he left the room, you couldn’t help but stare at the spot he was previously standing in from your position on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look too good.

For such a great hero, you wondered if this quest was doing him any good. After the first day of scouting the campsite, it was obvious he was already antsy to get home. It seemed no matter how light you tried to keep the atmosphere; it was like something was weighing on his mind. Mostly when you were both in the motel room together, you supposed it was because he barely went on quests nowadays. Understandably so, after all, who could blame him for wanting a break and spend time with his family? This made you feel immensely guilty since you could never give him words of truly understanding what he’s gone through. You’d arrived at camp a few days before him, yet over the years you were never sent onto a major quest. It upset you greatly at first, but you grew to appreciate your time at camp.

Before your mind could delve further into its guilt and self-pity, Percy re-entered the room, sitting next to you with a huff. “It’s all good. They’re going to send Leo with some extra supplies, and he’ll help us for the rest of this quest.”

Accidentally getting swept up in how pretty his eyes were, you tensed up, realising he was staring at you expectantly. Quickly nodding and clearing your throat you looked down to your lap, “ahh, okay that sounds good. I guess we’ll have time to sightsee or something…”

Sightsee? Really y/n? There’s nothing in this stupid town!

An awkward silence filled the room. Due to your previous thoughts, you were unsure how to proceed. This was the first time you were alone with him and had nothing else better to do.

Percy on the other hand, found that the obvious swooning look in your eyes was his green light. “Uhhh actually y/n?”

Oh, please don’t ask me why I basically just drooled all over you for NO FUCKING REASON. Snapping your head back up to look at him, you desperately tried to ignore the pounding in your chest that managed to find its way into your ears, “yeah?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

Holy shit he knows, doesn’t he? He knows I’ve liked him this entire time, and he’s going to reject me even though I never even said anything!

“I uhm… look I know we’re kind of on a small quest and all but technically we ARE waiting for Leo and the school to arrive before we continue… and you know we kind of have like at least a day or two until then so I was just wondering…”

“Yeah, Percy? You can just say it, you know; I really don’t mind.” I do mind, but please get this over with before I cry. With your heart rate increasing at an alarming rate and face heating up so much, you wanted Zeus to blast you right then and there.

Percy felt like he was about to puke, he’d never felt this nervous before. Yeah, he had his moments growing up with Annabeth, after all, she was his first girlfriend, but this was different. He wanted this to be different. Sure, he never regretted their relationship, and yes, he knew he’d always remember everything they went through- what he went through but… he wanted a clean slate. He desperately just wanted nothing more than to know that there was at least one person in his life that wasn’t constantly fighting for their lives—someone who didn’t have to live with as much trauma as him.

“W- would you maybe... Gods, do you want to have dinner tomorrow night? Maybe at the diner further into the town?”

HOLY FUCK.

He was interested and honestly, you were over the moon. Breathing out the breath you were holding in, you fail to hide the smile on your face, “yeah, I’d like that.”

His face instantly broke out into a wide smile matching yours. “Wait really?”

Unable to hold back a small giggle, you nodded, “yeah, Percy.”

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you admire the blue dress you found in a charity shop this morning while Percy was sleeping. I can’t believe this is happening.

If you had old even more awkward 15-year-old y/n that you were about to go on a date with the boy you admired from your table during meals (when he was there), you would’ve laughed. Mainly because at that point, he didn’t even know you existed, only having your first conversation during the battle of Manhattan when you were helping Will.

Okay… lets do this.

Walking out of the bathroom, Percy is already sitting on the bed in his usual t-shirt, jeans and converse waiting for you.

“Woah… You look uh-” Never finishing his statement, worry bubbled in your chest.

“Oh, uhm… I- I can change if you’d like?

Jumping up from his place on the bed, his head shook quickly. “NO! N-no don’t do that.”

“Ah uhm… okay? Sorry, it’s just I saw it in a store earlier and uhm… it looked nice, and I just thought that maybe it’d be cool to maybe put in a bit more effort? I mean… not that you don’t look good or anything! I love what you wear, you always look nice! but I don’t know… I don’t get to look nice much and… I just wanted it to be kinda special since we don’t get to… well our lives don’t really grant us these opportunities very often. Or at least for me anyway…”

“Hey, no, it’s okay! I totally get it… you look beautiful.” After hearing your small confession and thought to prepare for your date, his heart felt like it was melting. How could someone be so thoughtful when all he was doing was taking you to a rundown diner who probably only served mediocre burgers?

A small wave of guilt washed through him. Feeling like he would never be able to truly sweep you off your feet or give you that sweet, tooth-rotting love and affection, every day, just like you deserved. After everything, he knew he could try his best but even then, he’d never be able to hide the anxiety or PTSD he had acquired over the years.

You looked up to him with a smirk. “Glad to hear it, lover.”

Cheeks heating up at your comment, he laughed trying to play it off as cool as possible. Taking a step closer to you and flattening his shirt as if it would wipe away its wrinkles, he held out his arm. “Shall we, lover?”

Matching his level of fake sophistication, you linked your arm with his, “with pleasure.”

And with that, you both walked out of the motel, with hopeful spirits. To any onlooker, you both looked like normal young adults.

“Where the fuck are you?!” Percy’s voice boomed from his end of the phone, supposedly made without any monster risks.

You winced, slowly and cautiously walking your way out of the forest. The once clean dress was now covered in dirt and had few tears. It went perfectly with your dishevelled, twig and leaf infested hair.

“Space doesn’t really exist, so I’m nowhere. Life is built on social constructs and, since there’s no way to know if we’re really alive or if it’s just an illusion, I can’t be anywhere.”

“Y/n.”

Okay, he was concerned, and you couldn’t blame him. After all, how did you expect him to react after getting separated from you as you were chased into the woods by an Empousai after dinner?

Romance at its finest.

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up, but I’ll be there soon.”

Ending the call, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as you replayed the events that just occurred in your head. The date was amazing. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was still sweet. Which led you both to go on one of those cliché night walks. That was nice too, until two Empousai came out of the forest and decided to attack you both.

Percy being…. Well Percy, he swiftly got out riptide and didn’t hesitate to defend the two of you. You, on the other hand, were completely caught off guard only just noticing as one of them turned their focus on you while Percy was distracted.

And what did you do like the perfectly trained demigod you were?

You ran like a headless chicken into the forest.

After a few minutes of running, they tackled you into the ground. Trying and failing failed to shove them off, you suddenly remembered the dagger you strapped to your thigh under your dress and stabbed them.

Clearly not your proudest moments.

Finally making it back to the room, you unlocked the door and let out a huff of relief. “Well… that date didn’t go as expected.”

Percy, took in your current state staring at you with wide eyes… but he didn’t say anything. Is he angry at me? Fuck now he’s going to call off whatever this is, all because I’m an incompetent idiot! I knew I should have tried harder in the sparring activities at camp.

Feeling highly intimidated under his intense stare, you began to play with the hem of your dress, voice going quiet. “Look I uh- I know it probably wasn’t the date you were hoping for but I uhm-“

Before you could even finish your poor excuses, your words are soon lost entirely. Percy stalked towards you with a determined look on his face. Reaching you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your face, smashing his lips onto yours.

You let out a small, muffled squeak of surprise as your eyebrows shot up into Olympus. Yet unlike your fighting skills, this was something you managed to adapt to at a faster pace.

Eyes fluttering closed, you fisted his shirt, pulling him closer.

Please don’t let this be a dream.

Because Gods forbid if this your one chance, you weren’t letting this moment end that easily.

Moving your lips against his, the urgency he came onto you with slowly began to dissipate, feeling his soft, but slightly chapped lips move against yours. Deepening the kiss, you let go of his shirt, gliding your hands up his tense torso and along his strong arms, eventually placing your hands on his wrists that were on either side of your face. Applying a small amount of pressure to the inside of his wrists with your thumbs, his mind began to drift into a calming haze as you softly stroked them. It was almost as if you were able to brush away the worry that bubbled in him when he got back to the room, only to find you weren’t there. Yet here you were… safe.

It was intoxicating and calming having him so close to you, his entire being overcoming your senses to a point where you fought the urge to let out a small whimper when he pulled away.

Resting his forehead against yours, chest rising and falling heavily flushed against you; he continued to hold you in his warm embrace. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He whispers, breath fanning against your face.

Because as much as Percy was afraid he’d let you down, he knew no matter what you were worth every single risk.

“…but I’m going to have to teach you a few things when we get back to camp. We can’t have my lover running away in battle all the time, how will I know if you sneeze?”

Letting out a snort, you playfully hit his chest. “Anything for you, lover.”

A soft smile graces his face as he looks at you adoringly as the word takes on a whole new meaning… because you were right. He’d do anything.

A/N: whelp! i hope you all liked it :)) its not perfect but oh well?

also i dont have a percy jackson taglist but i gotta tag the holy grail of fic writers for this fandon eep @cabinofimagines 🙈 🙈

Divider credit: @biskit-rising

#percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x fem!reader #annabeth #annabeth chase #leo valdez #heros of olympus #hoo #nina's 1k event #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson angst

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