#basically consider it a half hour for each one of these
Note
this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!
Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)
Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.
Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol
Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx
If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.
“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.
Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”
Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”
When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.
Unknown Number
Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…
Y/n
Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.
The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.
Unknown Number
WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?
Unknown Number
YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN
Unknown Number
If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit
Unknown Number
LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE
Unknown Number
Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder
Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.
Y/n
You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!
His response was immediate.
Unknown Number
Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?
Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.
Y/n
*Image Attached*
Y/n
I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.
The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.
Unknown Number
Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.
Unknown Number
You are very pretty tho
Y/n giggled,
Y/n
Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.
Unknown Number
Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.
Y/n
How do I know this for sure?
Unknown Number
Trust me?
Y/n
Okay, ig. What’s your name?
The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.
“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.
However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.
Unknown Number
Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?
Y/n
I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)
Y/n
Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny
🏎️
The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.
Bob!
Good morning :)
Bob!
Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?
Y/n
Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.
Bob!
GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n
Y/n
Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol
Y/n
I live in London! What about you?
Bob!
Monaco
Y/n
Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?
Bob!
NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho
Y/n
Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.
Bob!
😭
Y/n
No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces
Bob!
Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.
Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.
She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.
Y/n
Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.
Bob!
Ok! text me when you’re free?
Y/n
yesss
—
There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.
Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.
Bob!
Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!
Y/n
sry, i just got home.
Bob!
Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??
Y/n
yeah
Bob!
Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you
Y/n
that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?
Bob!
you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times
Y/n
thats love fr
Y/n
but yeah its been a long day
Bob!
oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?
Y/n
Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.
Bob!
Talk to me about it then <3
Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.
Y/n
it’s ok. Thank you tho bob
Bob!
Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?
Y/n
no one?
Bob!
you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.
Y/n
We barely know each other.
Bob!
Do i look like i care?
She laughs and types,
Y/n
Bob, I don’t even know what you look like
Bob!
We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything
Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.
Y/n
People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?
There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.
Bob!
I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.
There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.
Y/n
Thank you. That means a lot.
Bob!
Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.
Y/n
When were you experiencing it?
Bob!
A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.
Y/n
You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.
Bob!
There’s not much to tell, Y/n.
Y/n
You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?
Bob!
I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.
Y/n
VAGUE
Bob!
Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs
Her eyes twinkle,
Y/n
Haha yeah right brotha
Y/n
That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.
Bob!
Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.
Y/n
You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?
Bob!
If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha
She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.
“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.
She breathes, “Bob?”
There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.
“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”
He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”
The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”
“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”
Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.
Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.
“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.
Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”
She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”
He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”
The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.
Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.
🏎️
“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.
“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.
Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”
Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”
Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”
“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.
Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”
Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.
“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.
Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”
“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.
Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”
Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”
Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.
“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.
“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.
Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”
He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”
She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.
Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”
Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”
“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.
Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”
Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”
Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”
As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”
Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.
—
Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.
“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.
Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”
Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”
Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”
Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”
“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.
Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.
🏎️
There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.
Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.
“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?
But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.
Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.
A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.
Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.
This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.
Robert Dancing does not exist.
🏎️
Unknown
Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?
Y/n
Everything is fine.
Unknown
Can I call you now?
Y/n
I’m busy.
Unknown
It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?
Unknown
Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?
Y/n
Stop messaging me.
Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.
Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”
She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”
Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”
“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.
“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.
Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”
A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”
A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”
“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.
“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.
He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”
She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”
“Y/n, I-”
She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”
A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”
Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.
He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.
What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”
With that, she hangs up the phone.
—
Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.
No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.
“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.
A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”
Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.
“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.
Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”
Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.
Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.
—
It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.
The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.
From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.
Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.
She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.
Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”
The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”
Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”
He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.
Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.
Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.
With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.
🏎️
The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.
She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.
He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”
It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.
When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.
“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”
The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.
The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.
The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.
He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”
Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”
He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.
Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”
“Y/n Y/l/n.”
He lifts his head slowly, “What?”
At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”
A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.
He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.
“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.
She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”
Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”
“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.
Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”
She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”
He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”
Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.
At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”
He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”
Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”
He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.
Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”
Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”
🏎️
The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.
Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.
So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.
“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.
A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”
Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.
When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.
Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.
He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.
He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”
He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.
The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.
Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.
“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.
She doesn’t know who he is.
He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.
“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.
Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.
“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.
“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.
“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.
Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”
What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.
“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.
She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.
“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.
“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”
Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”
He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”
Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”
Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”
Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.
“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.
He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”
Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”
His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”
She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”
He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”
Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”
Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”
She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.
🏎️
Y/n
Can you stop blowing up my phone
Bob <3
Why????? I’m bored baby
Y/n
im at work girly
Bob <3
girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me
Y/n
I think you might be obsessed with me
Bob <3
i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?
Y/n
girl
She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.
“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.
She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”
“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.
Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”
Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”
Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”
Lando hums, “An hour?”
“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”
Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”
She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”
He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”
“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.
He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”
She’d never get tired of saying it.
#mclaren#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagines#lando norris edit#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris x you#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfiction#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fluff#ln4 x you
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start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)
pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)
synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...
word count: 8.2k
warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming
A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.
Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?
You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya
You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning
Natasha: nooooooo
You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself
Natasha: I love you and I trust you
Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move
You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do
Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want
You: let’s have it
Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS
You: absolutely not
Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!
You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no
Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours
You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything
Natasha: fair point
Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded
Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive
Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way
You: stop being logical
Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave
You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix
Natasha: is it working
Me: …
You: it’s working
Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!)
You: lol
You: ugh okay text me his number
Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number
Natasha: mkay just sent
Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other
//
Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep.
Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.
Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport.
Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.
Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed.
Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts.
“You okay in there?”
You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.
The audacity of him.
When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.
He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun.
And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give.
Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”
Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.
You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on.
But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died.
“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.
Or before your tits froze off, at least.
You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.
Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation.
A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again.
You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations).
You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower.
A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped.
You waited.
He didn’t move.
“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely.
“Are you cold?”
Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake.
“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered.
Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault.
But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something.
“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.
“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”
As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life.
You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”
The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.
But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.
Silence stretched.
You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt.
You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you.
“What is this?” you asked.
He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”
You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”
“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”
That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same.
You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends.
“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction.
You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?
You pointed to the pillow you weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly.
It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.
Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer.
“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”
You blinked.
The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them.
“Why?” you asked.
Again, that quiet chuckle.
“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”
You couldn’t have heard that right.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly.
“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”
“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”
“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”
You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow.
“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.
“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”
“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.
“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”
He deliberated, the mulish man.
But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation.
His sweatshirt was somehow still warm.
It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.
And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.
It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there.
In bed.
With you.
You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces.
“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle.
“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”
“Night,” Jake said.
You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again.
It distracted you for a moment.
Just a moment.
Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering.
You tried to be still, you did.
But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised.
“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him.
“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”
Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat.
“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”
This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing.
You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep.
“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed.
“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you.
“Can I…?” he trailed off.
“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.
His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth.
Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow.
Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.
“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity.
You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond.
Jake hummed.
A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep.
You startled awake to the sound of guns.
Not guns, fireworks.
Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten?
Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.
“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly.
The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking.
“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any.
“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said.
You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid.
You took a long breath, starting to explain.
“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”
“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”
You stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.
“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”
Jake kissed you.
You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination.
Just as quickly, he pulled back.
“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”
You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.
You wanted to ask what the hell that was.
You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that.
You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again.
Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly.
Of course he was a good kisser.
Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you.
He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline.
“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold.
“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.
To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed.
Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you.
If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting.
“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”
Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck.
“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced,
“Orgasms.”
You would never forget the expression on his face.
Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger.
“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin.
“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”
Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted.
And who were you, to decline?
Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing.
You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs.
One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him.
God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg.
When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that.
You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again.
It shouldn’t be this hot.
But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise.
“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”
Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you.
You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching.
“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”
You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head.
You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze.
Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”
You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.
“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge.
The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter.
Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…
He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs.
You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well.
“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact.
“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness.
He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something.
If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this.
“Right,” you said weakly.
His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.
He kissed your thigh.
It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.
You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught.
“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.
His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming.
“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”
Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch.
“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”
You bit your lip, nervous again.
You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different.
You were panting, anticipation making you breathless.
You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”
You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you.
“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned.
“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice.
You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion.
It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set.
You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.
He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair.
“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again.
“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.
And he pushed another finger into you.
Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more.
His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers.
“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded.
A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow.
“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”
Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening.
He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words.
You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body.
“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”
Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again.
“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter.
He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming.
You weren’t cold anymore.
In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter.
God damn, he was so hot.
He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be.
“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough.
Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again.
He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick.
Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed.
When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.
Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself.
He was so strong.
Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you.
You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct.
Fuck, he felt big.
You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head.
“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”
“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it.
You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed.
The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers.
“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent.
His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his.
“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom.
“Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out.
“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”
Jake caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back.
“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”
You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours.
You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance.
It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth.
Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him.
This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him.
Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair.
You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication.
“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”
God, you wanted that too.
You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege.
When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly.
He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too.
You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down.
“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that.
“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”
Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs.
You’d had two orgasms.
You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough.
“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt.
“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”
You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.
He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him.
“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it.
“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”
“Honey, you can’t say things like that–” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward.
You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do.
“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”
He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you.
He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.
“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed.
This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe.
“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”
Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit.
You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you.
“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you.
Then he moved.
His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–
Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound.
“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.
“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”
Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal.
“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”
You moaned as he found a rhythm.
The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it.
“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it.
“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”
Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding.
Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting.
“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”
Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come.
“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”
“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”
You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you.
You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go.
You were just as boneless.
You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.
//
tag list: @cheekymcgrath @laracrofted @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @callsignspark @lewmagoo @mxgyver @sebsxphia @daggerspare-standingby @ryebecca @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @wildbornsiren @whoeverineedtobe @clancycucumber230 @javihoney and i think a couple folks have changed their URLS, so please let me know if you still want to be tagged!
#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin fanfic#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin smut#misskielwrites
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the other woman part 2
pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader
warnings: cheating (once more, i do not condone nor endorse this🤨), bit of angst (?), and fluff
author’s note: finally 😱 sorry it took me so long to get it out lol, hope you all enjoy <33 (gave myself ptsd with the frijoles 😓)
word count: 4k
the other woman part one
You re-read the text message from Miguel over and over again until the words were basically imprinted in your brain, the constant reminder of what this relationship really was. It was just an exchange of pleasure, nothing more and nothing less. Though you'd sworn that you wouldn't engage in any of Miguel’s messages anymore, a part of you couldn't help but be curious as to why he wanted to come over now. You took a few deep breaths to calm your self down, your hands clammy as you typed out a response to his message.
You: ok. no hooking up though
Miguel: 👍🏽
About a half hour later, a loud knock was heard on your door, successfully waking you up from the tiny nap you'd taken. You rushed to clean up the empty ice cream container in front of you and wipe away some away some of the stickiness that was in the corner in your mouth. You opened up the door to see Miguel standing there with disheveled hair and his lab coat still on, probably just getting off from work. The two of you awkwardly looked at each other for a couple seconds before you motioned him to come in, opening the door.
He sat on the couch with his arms folded as he watched the tv show in front of him, not saying anything. You had half the mind to ask him what it was he came over for, but you decided just to wait it out and let him speak when he was ready. "So, Dana told me she confronted you at a coffee shop," he spoke up after a couple minutes, his eyes still focused on the tv. "She did, it was my fault though. I shouldn't have been staring at her for so long," you mumbled, still feeling that lingering embarrassment from your previous confrontation with her. He finally shifted his body to face yours, his hands crossed on his lap and he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but quickly clamped it shut.
"She and I are getting a divorce. She's known for a while now that I've been seeing you and she's been seeing someone else," he told you, your eyes widening a bit in confusion. He'd told you that they were on the path towards fixing things, that he wouldn't need your company anymore the last time he was in your bed, so this came as a complete curveball. "I'm sorry. I know you tried to keep your relationship intact," you offered, putting your hand on his arm to offer him some kind of comfort. He placed his arm on top of yours before he spoke again, "I didn't come here for your sympathy. I came here because.. I want you to be with me. No hiding and no illicit affairs."
You pulled your hand back from his, biting down on your bottom lip as you started to consider the possibility of actually being in a relationship with Miguel. You'd expected for this moment to make you feel better, that you'd be up in the air cheering from joy, but all you felt was doubt crawling up to the forefront of your mind. "Please say something," Miguel let out with a small sigh, his gaze on where his hand was holding yours.
“I don't want to be in a relationship with you, Miguel."
"Why? Is it because of Dana confronting you? We can work around that, I promise."
"No. It's just.. your daughter's just gonna see me as the person that fucked up her parents' relationship."
"Our relationship was fucked before you even came in the picture, chula. Me and Dana were planning on talking to her and explain the situation."
You nibbled on your bottom lip as you withheld the real reason that you didn't want to be involved with him, but you were snapped out of your thoughts when Miguel placed his hand on your shoulder. "Tell me what's stopping you from getting in a relationship with me and we can work it out. Or I can leave and give you some time to think about it," he told you, his eyes not breaking contact with yours as he spoke. "I don't trust you, Miguel. And that wasn't a problem when we were just sleeping together because I wasn't the one you were going home to. But now you're asking me to put trust and hope that you want to be in a relationship with me and I can't," you finally admitted, his face slightly falling as you spoke.
He stood up and brushed away some invisible wrinkles from his dress shirt, looking over at you. "I'm here asking you to be with me and you don't trust me?" He asked you, almost like you were in the wrong for even doubting him. "You cheated on Dana, who may I remind you, you were married to. So is the concept of me worrying about you cheating on me so outlandish?" You respond, standing up as you looked up at him. He let out a small sigh, placing his hand on your cheek before he dipped his head down to kiss your forehead. "I’ll gain your trust, okay?"
The next couple of months following that night, the rumors that Miguel was recently single began to surface around. Even though you'd taken the initiative to get some space away from him, your heart couldn't help but ache every time you saw one of his lab assistants throw themselves at him. You kept your head down and tried to avoid Miguel at the lab as much as possible, but you couldn't help but notice his lingering stares when you came in to check up on his work. You quickly took notice of his bare ring finger but you didn't let it get your hopes up, you felt like Miguel could easily replace you at any moment and that overpowered any feelings that you felt towards him.
You were dreading having to go to the company party this afternoon, but you decided on going regardless since it was a retirement party for one of your old mentors. The heels on your feet felt uncomfortable as soon as you put it on and the dress you were wearing felt too tight, like you couldn't breathe properly, but you eventually tried to calm down and headed to the Alchemax building. You could tell that the party was set up last minute by the way the streamers were just tossed around and the balloons had zero shape, but you found yourself enjoying the atmosphere regardless.
After congratulating Dr. Connors on his retirement, you sat down at one of the tables and drank the champagne that was being passed around by the caterers. Your eyes widened when you saw that Miguel arrived, wearing a black button down and black slacks that fit him perfectly. It was similar to his work attire, but you'd been avoiding him for so long that you forgot just how handsome he could really be. You gulped down the rest of your champagne and silently prayed to whatever entity there was above that he wouldn't approach you, you were certain that your heart couldn't handle it.
"Is this seat taken?" You looked up to see Miguel standing there, his arm on the top of the chair as he started pulling it back. "No," you responded simply, averting your gaze from him and you noticed that some of the other women at the party were staring at him. You looked through your peripheral to see that Miguel was already staring at you, one of his fingers coming to trail the lace of the dress you had on. "Why aren't you out there talking with your other co-workers? They've all been feening after they heard you were single," you turned to ask him, wanting to know his reasoning for being here with you. "Feening?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping from his lips as he looked at you. "And who told you I was single, chula? Even though we're not together, you're the one that owns my heart," he whispered, kissing your forehead before he walked away.
You felt your heartbeat in your ears after he left, completely speechless after what he said. One of the coworkers you frequented lunch with, Alison, walked over to talk to you but your mind couldn't help but race with thoughts about what Miguel had said. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Alison waved in front of your face, your eyes focusing on her once more. "Sorry about that," you muttered, rubbing the side of your neck awkwardly. "What's on your mind?" She asked, not bothering to keep up with the conversation about her research. You shared the details of what happened with Miguel without actually naming him, and you felt a sense of relief when she didn't show any judgement despite you acknowledging that you’d gotten with a married man.
"Well, obviously I don't condone cheating and I do agree with the point that you're making, that you'd be stupid to think that he wouldn't do the same thing to you. But it sounds like he's really willing to put in the work into working this out with you, and I mean you'll never really have a guarantee that he won't cheat but it's better to just try it out," she offered her bit of advice and you nodded, letting the words really sink in. You changed the subject back to her research, not wanting to think about your relationship problems with Miguel for one night, and you actually paid attention to what she was saying this time. The two of you ended up having a pleasant time talking but you couldn't help but notice that across the room, Miguel couldn't keep his eyes off you.
"Ew, dude. What the fuck?!" You exclaimed when you felt someone's saliva hit your arm while you were waiting for the valet to bring your car back. "Sorry about that," you heard the same intern from a couple weeks ago speak, a throaty laugh escaping from her lips. "Do you have a problem with me or something?" You turned around, your brows furrowing as you wiped away the residue. "My problem is that you think you're so much better than us because you got to bang Miguel, but the truth is that you're nothing but a miserable homewrecker," she scoffed, coughing into her arm afterwards. "Like you weren't throwing yourself at him just a couple weeks ago," you countered back, though a small part of you knew that she had a point. She got closer to you, her nostrils flaring and you could've sworn she had something else to say but someone came in between you two.
"That's enough, don't you think?" Miguel spoke, facing her as he blocked your body away from view. "But Mr. O’Hara, she started it. I would never stoop down to her level, I promise," she whined as you rolled your eyes, biting your tongue back. "Just so you have it clear, I will never be interested in you. Not now and not ever. And I don't want to hear you calling her a homewrecker again when you don't have all the facts," he responded, his back tense as he spoke to her. You heard her footsteps retreat and Miguel turned to look at you once she was out of sight, tilting your chin up so you'd look at him. "Don't let her get to you, okay?" He whispered, keeping eye contact with you. You nodded, feeling some butterflies in your stomach as you walked to your car.
You called in sick on Monday, waking up with a headache and fever, your body completely sore. You only got up from the bed when you heard a knock on your door, assuming that it was probably your Amazon package. "What are you doing here?" You asked, your nose sniffling a bit as you looked over at Miguel. "I heard about what happened. I came to bring you some stuff," he told you, holding up a Walgreens bag. You opened the door to let him in, grabbing a couple tissues on the way back to the couch. You grabbed some lysol from a kitchen drawer and began to spray the couch along with the area around you so you wouldn't infect Miguel.
"Vaporub?" You mumbled, holding up the small container as you looked up at him. “Look, say what you want but that thing seriously has some healing abilities," he responded seriously and you simply nodded, rubbing some on your chest. "I wasn't sure if you ate already or not so I brought you some chicken soup. There's also a couple cough syrups in there, I wasn't sure which one to get," he added, sitting down on the couch next to you. You looked over at him, noticing how nervous he looked to be around you once more. "How was work?" You asked, facing away from him as you coughed into your arm.
The two of you ended up watching the second season of Narcos on your couch, talking about work or talking about the show itself. "I��m sorry for trying to pressure you into being in a relationship with me right after I asked for a divorce from my ex-wife. I know why you have your doubts and I'm sorry that I didn't take those things into account," he told you, rubbing small circles on your thigh as the second season ended. You leaned your head against his shoulder, finding comfort in the embrace. Truth was, no matter how much you tried to deny your feelings for Miguel, you always found yourself coming back to feel the comfort that he could provide you with. "It's okay. I just wasn't expecting that after you told me that we'd be ending things."
Miguel’s movements on your thighs suddenly ceased and he turned to look at you, holding your chin up. "I know you're not exactly ready to be in a relationship with me and I can't really blame you for that. but I've been wondering, what if we take this slow? Like I'll take you out once you feel better and we can start getting to know more about each other than what we look like naked," he offered and you had to bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from smiling too hard. "I'd like that a lot," you responded, leaning into kiss his cheek before pulling away, remembering that you had a cold.
About a week later, your cold had completely faded away and you got a text from Miguel, telling you to keep your schedule open today. You couldn't help the large grin that appeared on your face at the prospect of finally going on a date with Miguel, at finally being able to be seen in public with him without any repercussions. Nothing could bring down your mood today, not even your bitchy coworkers spreading rumors or the dirty looks you received when you walked down the hall. You did your best to finish your work as soon as possible so you'd have enough time to shower and get ready.
You'd chosen to wear a simple black dress with some flats since you weren't completely sure where Miguel was taking you, not wanting to look too casual or too fancy. You practically ran over to the door when you heard a knock on your door, your eyes widening when you saw miguel and his daughter standing there. "Hola!" Gabriella told you and you could've sworn it was like looking at a replica of Miguel. "Hola chiquitina, how are you?" You smiled, opening the door and stepping back so they'd come in. Gabriella began to talk about her day at school and soccer practice, a small smile forming on your face at just how energetic she seemed to be.
Miguel tapped you on the shoulder, handing you a bouquet of flowers with a small smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind that I brought Gabi over. Her babysitter wasn't available and i thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you to get to know her," he told you, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek. "No worries, she seems like a lovely kid anyways," you responded, bringing the flowers up to your nose as a smile crossed your face. You went over to the kitchen to put them in a vase, setting them on the kitchen table when you felt a tug on your dress.
"Are you gonna be my new mami?" Gabriella asked, a toothy grin on her face as she looked up at you expectantly. You kneeled down to her level, holding her small hands in yours. "I'm not gonna be your new mommy, because you already have a mommy that loves you and cares for you very much. I have no intentions of replacing your mom, but I do have every intention of taking care of you and loving you," you responded honestly, brushing a loose strand of her hair back. The answer seemed to satisfy her since she pulled you into a tight hug, burying her face into you. "Thank you for being nice! A lot of the kids at school complain about their step-mommies being mean."
Miguel ended up taking you two to an arcade so you and Gabriella could have some fun together and have an opportunity to bond. "Papi! Can we have wings, please?" Gabriella asked when you all stepped inside, automatically running to the food court. "Tenemos frijoles en la casa, chiquitina," he protested but he didn't really sound like he meant it. (we have beans at home) "Papi, we've been eating frijoles for two days now. Let's take a break, pleaseee?" She asked him, putting on her best puppy eyes for him. "Yeah Miguel, pleaseee?" You asked, joining Gabriella and making puppy eyes. He let out a small groan, rubbing his temples before he let himself be taken to the food court. "You two combined is gonna be the death of me, I swear."
Though Miguel had been the one to protest the most against buying food, he'd been the one who ordered twelve wings and a large order of fries. "¿No que no querías?" Gabriella teased him, taking a large sip from her milkshake. (thought you didn’t want any) "Well, I couldn't leave you two eating alone, would be very rude of me," he responded as he took a bite from his fries, making Gabriella giggle. “Should've brought your frijoles in a tupperware," you added in as a joke, though his brows furrowed as he considered it. "Might have to do that for the movie theater next time. I swear, those prices are a scam," he muttered before he went back to eating.
The rest of the meal was spent between Gabriella sharing stories about her friends and how she made five goals at practice today and you trying to keep up with what she was telling you, hoping to score some brownie points with her. Miguel had a small smile on his face as he watched you interact with Gabriella, staying silent for most of the meal. "Is something wrong?" You asked Miguel when Gabriella ran off to get the tickets for the games you'd all be playing. "No, the opposite actually. It's so nice seeing you interact well with Gabriella. I was worried that she wouldn't like you but I think she felt reassured when you told her you weren't trying to replace Dana," he responded, holding your hand as he walked with you to where Gabriella was.
You groaned as you struggled to knock the bottles down, but you didn't want to give up out of your want for the huge Spider-Man plushie. Miguel placed a hand on your shoulder, telling you to step to the side before he handed his tickets to the man at the stand. He threw the balls at the bottles, his forearms flexing with every movement and you could've sworn you felt a bit of drool collecting at the side of your mouth. "Which one do you want?" He asked you after he effectively knocked down the bottles, the man at the stand practically seething at how easy it'd been for him. You pointed to the Spider-Man plushie, a big smile on your face as you held it close to your chest once he’d handed it over.
"Thank you," you told Miguel, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. "Anything to see you smile that way," he remarked, his words always having the ability to make you get flustered. The two of you headed to where Gabriella was at, joining her in the basketball game that she was playing. She let out a scoff after Miguel won, clearly pissed off. "It's not fair! You're basically a giant, papi!" She whined, looking up at him. "Don't be bitter, chiquita. I'll even let you keep the plushie if you behave," he responded, letting out a small chuckle. "Kid has a point, y'know?" You respond, letting out a laugh of your own. Miguel playfully rolled his eyes and bent down to tickle Gabriella, her giggles filling up the mostly empty arcade room.
The three of you went to try out a couple games and you teamed up with Gabriella after she'd asked you to. the two of you had lost against Miguel in the hockey game and he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as he saw the frowns on your faces. "What was unfair about this game, Gabi?" He asked her, his voice taking on a slightly teasing tone. "You're the only unfair part, papi. You're just too good," she grumbled, running off to go play whack a mole. You and Miguel headed towards the car games and even though he could hardly fit on the motorcycle, it was still an enjoyable activity for the both of you.
Miguel handed her the My Little Pony plushie that he'd claimed to get for himself after he won the basketball game, a bright smile on Gabriella’s face as you all walked out of the arcade. "Did you enjoy yourself, nena?" Miguel asked Gabriella, the kid practically beaming as she held the Pinkie Pie plushie. "I did, thank you for letting me meet your girlfriend papi," she replied, and you didn't have the heart to tell her that you weren't Miguel’s girlfriend yet so you stayed quiet. "Thanks for not telling her that we're not dating. She's been really understanding about the divorce but she doesn't quite grasp the concept of the talking stage," he spoke up after gabi fell asleep in the back seat, your eyes drifting from the window to him. "You don't have to thank me for doing the bare minimum, Miguel. I like your kid and i don't wanna see her upset," you assured him, holding his hand that wasn't on the steering wheel.
For the first time since you and Miguel had been intertwined with each other, he brought you over to his place. he carried a sleeping Gabriella inside, taking her with such ease to her room and you couldn't help but look around at the decorations. At the scattered books on the shelves, a combination of some peer-reviewed science journals and kid's stories. You felt like for the first time you'd caught a glimpse of who Miguel was behind that exterior that he put on and you wanted to learn as much as you could. He came back to the living room, wrapping his around your waist as he leaned his head in the crook of your neck. "Ready for bed, chula?"
Miguel didn't try to initiate anything sexual and neither did you, but that didn't stop the two of you from clashing tongues after you guys changed into your pajamas. You'd missed the way he tasted on your tongue, the way he kissed you like he was dying of thirst and you were the only source of water. The two of you eventually came to a stop when a knock was heard on the door, Gabriella standing there with her pinkie pie plushie. "Can I sleep with you guys?" She asked, rubbing her eyes since she was still half asleep. Miguel nodded, making some space in between you two to let her lay down. As you fell asleep that night with your arms wrapped around Gabriella, you couldn't help but feel grateful that Miguel and his little girl had welcomed you to be a part of their family.
@m4dyy @ginnysculture
#muchosbesitos#miguel spider man 2099#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara fluff#miguel o’hara angst#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel ohara#miguel ohara fluff#miguel ohara angst#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel ohara fic#miguel ohara spiderman#miguel ohara imagine#spiderman 2099 fluff#spiderman 2099#atsv miguel#miguel atsv#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel o’hara across the spider verse#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel x y/n#miguel x you#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel o’hara x you
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I. Daggers to the Heart🗡
Cheater!Gojo X Reader
Angst, Lust & Violence
The reason why this fanfic exist.
Ps. I stopped coloring half way
𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓆸
You and Gojo have been in a relationship ever since you guys were 15. He met you at Jujutsu High being one of the Grade 1 Sorcerers who uses blood manipulation to copy a sorcerer's ability once you've intake their blood. You are very skilled in close combat using just a small but sharp jade dagger and Gojo just couldn't beat you at it. His only way of defense is his infinity that creates a shield like ability which is something you tease him being weak about.
But since Gojo was a special grade sorcerer with the Limitless, Six Eyes curse. It takes a lot of curse energy to use such power which is why Yaga never allows you to intake his blood and use the ability because it could kill you given your limited curse energy so Gojo teases you being weak for that.
Yaga decided to let the both of you practice physical combat alone in the field so Gojo could improve in close combat but the usual always happens where you dodge down his upper attacks, stretch a leg out swipping his legs off the ground causing Gojo falls on his back. You then sit on his stomach with the dagger on his neck.
"Weak. Ass. Legs."
You exhaled feeling tired after having to do combat with this guy for hours. Meanwhile Gojo enjoys losing because he started to grow a liking towards you throughout your practices together. He doesn't know if it's the sarcastic attitude that taunts him during practice or the killer instinct that kicks in when youre in combat mode or the sensual flow of your body when dodging his attacks but whatever it is, he couldn't supress his feelings anymore. He grabbed on your wrist close to his neck pulling the dagger to the side and leaned in to meet your lips.
But it wasn't a one sided crush though. You too were secretly flirting with him during your combats together. The moment you saw Satoru Gojo around the campus, you just couldn't keep your heart steady. The handsome smug special grade sorcerer of the Gojo clan was just super cute.
"and...What is this?"
The two of you broke the kiss hearing Memei's voice and got off each other. You both stand side by side looking at Mei Mei. And that's how everyone in Jujutsu High knew you guys were going to be in a relationship. Basically Mei Mei couldn't keep it to herself and kept gushing about you and Gojo's romantic teenage relationship to other students and teachers that ended up spreading through out the school.
Even the elders knew about it and we're very much against it but didn't have a say in the matter since it was the student's private lives.
Everything was going well with you and Gojo. You were each other's first love. It was Delicate, Protected and Sweet. Gojo would call you up to his missions with his team so he could flex how strong he was fighting off one bad guy while Geto handles the rest. Shoko would sometimes send you messages about girls staring at Gojo and approaching him that led to you feeling jealous and would have a sulky fight with your boyfriend. But your Gojo was too smug, sweet and honest that you couldn't stay mad at him for long.
But then tragedy struck, Geto decided to turn against being a sorcerer and left Jujutsu High which meant Gojo was losing his best friend. It was your boyfriend's depressing era where he couldn't smile anymore and cries in his sleep murmuring his best friends name.
Of course you understood what he was going through. You witnessed how deep and connected their relationship was and it didn't bother you the slightest because Geto always aimed for Gojo to be more humble and considering which is the exact opposite of what Geto turned out. This is also one of this times where you felt desperate to help your boyfriend that you had offered yourself to cheer him up. Even though you weren't ready to lose your purity, you did anyway. Anything for him to feel loved and happy again, and it worked.
Gojo was back on his feet, excited about this new path of your relationship and wanted to do it more than once in a day. He was happy again, he even gave you a promise ring where he said he'll marry you when he retires. He was also trying really hard to control his ability and expand his knowledge.
You were so happy and proud of your decision. You even let him have alone time so he could do his missions and even if it felt lonely, you had your team of three to hang out with. You even met another sorcerer out of that team who shift shapes into different animals. Her name was Yoko and she became the closest friend to you because of her fun personality and sense of humour. Everything was seemed to heal back to the way it was.
Until one day, Gojo comes back to the dorm in that familiar depressing mood. You asked him about what happened and he told you about Geto being labeled for execution after taking over the shaman role and forming an army against the humans. It surprised you and couldn't help but feel sad hearing that Geto is to be killed.
It was hard seeing Gojo back to his old depressing self. Even though this time he wasn't that depressed but seemed to be more in thought of what he was going to do about it and you tried your best to console and support him. As a long time girlfriend who had tried numerous ways to cheer him up but the methods doesn't seem to work anymore so you tried other things that makes you happy that might make him happy.
You introduced him to Yoko and the three of you would hang out going on arcades, malls and travel around Japan. Having Yoko around was the greatest idea ever because ever since she was here Gojo kept smiling and laughing a lot. He even told you that Yoko had a similar perosnality to Geto which made you feel very happy to hear because that means he can heal from that part of him as well. There would be times where the conversation wasn't relatable to you but you didn't mind it as long as Gojo was smiling again.
You sighed feeling tired from coming back to the convinience store. You plan on surprising Gojo with a couple of movies you brought from the DVD store and thought about having a movie date with just the two of you. Yoko is fun to have around but sometimes you crave for the intimacy of just the two of you.
You walked into the male dorm's and found that Gojo's room was open. Your brows furrowed wondering if he was home or forgot to lock it somehow. You felt more in favor for the surprise and quietly went in just to check if he really was out. And just as you entered a sound of whimper and something banging against the wall reached your ear. It sounded familiar like you've heard it before and it wasn't a good feeling to hearing it.
"Satoru~"
A familiar voice moaned and instantly your heart started racing. You could see the bed room door just at the side, it was slightly open. You peeked in seeing the movement of your boyfriend naked and pounding against something...or someone else judging by the leg over his arm. Your breathing started to rapid as you start hearing the both of them exchange moans.
"...yes...yes...cum to me."
Hearing that was the last straw and with your shaky hands you manage to push the door wid open and the scene had you drop everything you were holding.
Instantly Gojo stopped his activity and Yoko gasped pulling in the covers of the bed to cove her to naked body. You were staring at Gojo as tears started forming in your eyes not knowing how to react and was just full of hurt and pain...and you just couldn't describe how you felt by this betrayal. It felt so deep like your own dagger was stabbed against you. You remained standing their just...waiting for some miracle to happen not knowing what miracle it should be but...you wanted something to happen. Maybe an explanation? maybe have Gojo apologize? say he loves you and it's a mistake?
But no. You heard him scoff like he had no remorse. The bed creaked as he stood up from it and walked towards the door. Gojo stared at you waiting for a few curses or two but you were bleeding too much inside that you couldn't speak. Gojo without a word closes the door slowly. Your eyes moved from the last view inside the room seeing Yoko look back at you behind the blankets.
The door shuts feeling a bit of wind from it. You heard the bed creak once more and it just stirred your guts up feeling like you were gonna puke and had you run out the building. You instantly puke once you reach outside and started to quietly cry.
After a while the emotions started to subside but the memory remained. You were walking around the empty campus for hours not knowing where you were heading. You were too deep in thought about what your next move should be that you couldn't feel your legs hurting. Until you felt the need to stop and looking at your right was the building of the female dorms, an idea hits you.
Yoko was just heading back to the dorm feeling regretful yet satisfied that she finally got the chance to sleep with Gojo Satoru. She's been eyeing him for a while but you were always around so she didn't get the chance to show him how she felt until that afternoon. She also confirmed through Gojo's action that he also felt some sort of way for her and was glad that she got the courage to do it even if she was caught.
A bit distracted from her own thoughts Yoko heads into her room closing the door behind her with a small smile on her lips. While she was removing some of her clothing she suddenly felt like she was being watched.
Yoko looked around her room seeing nothing suspicious and that's when she looked behind her to see a form blending in the shadows and it lunges towards her slicing a part of her cheek.
Yoko gasped holding her wounded cheek as she moved back into the living room area where the light had shown the figure in her room.
"Y/N..."
At the mention of your name, it irritated you and rushed towards her wanting to wound her more. Yoko was small and quick to transform into anything just to avoid your attacks. But you, built with the rage you felt were stronger than before and was able to scratch her and stab her in different areas of her body causing blood to splatter over you.
"Y/N! Stop!"
She cried out but the sound of her voice just reminds you of her in Gojo's bedroom and continued to lunge at her feeling no remorse. Yoko in fear for her life, transforms into a rat desperately reaching for the door but you were quick to grab her disgusting rat body tossing her back into the room as she transform back into a human.
Yoko looked at you in fear. She knew she was no match for you. She was only Grade 4 and her body already felt weak using all her curse energy to dodge your attacks. She met your eyes who gave no emotion and was just full of anger.
You looked down at her like she was some practice dummy you're gonna stab through. To think you trusted this woman to be by your side and be part of your relationship. You scoffed remembering all the good ideas you claimed and aggressively pulled her hair back exposing her neck. You placed your sharp dagger on her skin while you placed your lips near her ear.
"I'm going to enjoy this..."
You whispered scraping the edge of your dagger on her neck when suddenly the window breaks and you felt a strong force pushing you to the wall. It was Gojo using his infinity to push you back from Yoko's body.
"That's enough Y/N..."
His presence irritated the fuck out of you and you carefully stood up scoffing.
"I guess prince charming's come in cheaters too."
Gojo made a protective stance over Yoko after noticing the dead look in your eyes. They were empty and soulless. He was to blame, he was at fault, he knows that he messed up and have hurt you deeply but he still couldn't understand why you became this cold blooded. To the point that you'd kill someone for your pain.
Seeing how your supposed boyfriend was protecting Yoko's wounded body behind his infinity just made you feel really ridiculous. You grinned whisking your dagger to the side removing the some of the blood that was on it and thinking of stabbing Gojo in the heart.
"Are you gonna fight me like a man or you're just gonna hide behind that little shield of yours?"
"I didn't come here to fight. I came here to stop you from violating the rules further. The elders will have you killed if you continue this."
You scoffed in annoyance. He was still thinking about the rules over the whole reason why you're doing this. You lifted your dagger near your face looking at a reflection of yourself seeing the bloody mess on your face.
"I'm gonna be punished anyway. After all the effort and sacrifices I made..." You smiled biting your lower lip as it slowly slips off from being bitten. "I'm still the one who got punished. The one who got hurt." You shifted your soulless eyes to Gojo. "The one who was betrayed...by the person who I did everything for."
Gojo's heart dropped but he couldn't apologize at the moment. He couldn't let his guard down because anytime you would strike Yoko and that would make everything worst for you. Soon footsteps can be heard running down the hallway and Gojo heard it too. He was relieved that help was coming, all he had to do now is to encourage you to put the your weapon down. He just knows he could save you out of the fault he had done. He was just so confident that he could encourage you.
"Y/N...we can fix this. Trust me, I won't let them hurt you. I just need you to put the dagger down."
You stared at him for a moment not even contemplating about the words he said and decided to walk towards him. Gojo took a few steps back feeling the unsurredering bloodlust character you were giving and tries to cover Yoko's wounded body getting ready for your blows.
"You couldn't fix anything. I...did everything."
You spat and headed to the broken window, jumping out.
"Y/N!!!"
Gojo calls out after you jumped out of a five story building.
You survived the fall under a couple of trees wounded in the process but you were okay and hid into the woods. You were able to escaped Jujutsu High and was now resting up on a large tree branch. You don't know where you were going and it would be dangerous to go to the city since people will report you for how bloody you looked plus, some sorcerers are civilians. And then an idea hits you.
"I hope he has room for one more."
You mumbled jumping off the tree branch and headed to Well Spring cult. It was just near the mountains and wasn't guarded by sorcerers but by shaman people. You barged in the entrance asking calmly for Suguru Geto but the people felt panicked in the sight of you and started running around like the monkeys the are so you decided to grab one of them.
"h-his in the main hall."
Says the shaman shaking in fear as he felt your dagger up his skin.
"Great, lead me to him."
You ordered pushing the knife into him and he immidiately starts walking.
Geto was casually sitting in a meditating position with a smile on his face. Once the large doors in front of him opened aggressively he instantly knew who it was by the presence of your curse energy. But he was still surprised after seeing your bloody get up.
"What a pleasure having you in my building , Y/N."
He still smiled giving off a welcoming aura but you can tell he was very alert judging by the sharpness of his eyes.
"It's a pleasure seeing you too."
You smiled and shooed the shaman you held captive.
"The place looks really great by the way, although the uniform is not working for me."
You teased walking in the hall and stopping at the middle. Geto chuckled as he carefully watch taking a few steps while worrying who's blood is at your hands.
"Everyone does think it is ridiculous but I personally like it. So what is your true purpose of being here? Have you come to kill me?"
He asked with his tone changed into something serious.
"Why would I do that?"
You smiled lifting up your dagger. Geto felt slightly threatened because he too was aware about your advance close combat. He prepares himself by summoning a couple of curse spirits behind him and around you.
You chuckled finding it humorous for a special grade to be afraid of you. You lifted up both of your hands and bowed like a ballet performer. Geto felt confused and glanced at the dagger you held. You noticed this and threw the dagger to the wall piercing a few of his cursed spirit in the process before it hits the wall and falling on the ground.
"What is it that you want?"
He asked sounding very serious.
"I was wondering if you have a spare room for a girl like me?"
You said with your head bowed facing the red carpet on the floor. Geto smirked at your request.
"And who said I would take you in just like that?"
You hummed standing up and made a thinking pose tapping your lips.
"I figured you could use a more useful body guard. Better than the once you have bleeding in your hallway."
You chuckled. Geto scoffs finding your psychotic behavior unsual. You were very much sane when he left so what caused you to be like this?
"Are those the only blood you spill?"
He asked feeling interested with what happened to you.
"Uhh no. I was aiming for a bitch today but some asshole decided to save her life."
You shrugged making Geto hum in interest.
"I'd like to hear more of this story if you plan on staying here."
You smiled widely while nodding.
"and a sprinkle of Jujutsu High updates would surely fill your cup of tea."
𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓇢 𓆸
Mi Note ⚘
I wrote this one early because the feeling is fresh.
Update 2024: No mo part II. I'll let your imagination fly.
Credits to the Artist!
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu sorcerer#jjk#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#jjk fluff#geto suguru#satosugu#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo x reader#geto x oc#geto x reader#geto x y/n#geto x you
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hi there! (ok FIRST AND FOREMOST i need to tell you that i am obsessed with your writing. you are by far my favorite jamie tartt writer, you characterize him perfectly and nail his speech mannerisms! not an easy feat! so thank u for writing what you do and for sharing it with us!!!! <333333 ok now that i've gotten that off my chest) if you're taking requests right now i'd love to see your take on a (slowburn?) enemies to lovers fic with jamie!!
I don’t know why I take simple little prompts and turn them into angsty monstrosities. This one makes up for the lack of plot in my other fics, and I’d like to apologize in advance😬
Oh also I am the queen of commas, in case you didn’t know 😇😇
flipped the script
It cannot be considered murder if you’re provoked. It would be considered doing the world a favor.
And by god, you are going to fucking murder Jamie Tartt.
He does absolutely fucking nothing but make your life fucking miserable and you’re fucking losing it.
The only thing you’d agree on is when it started. It was 4am and he was yelling at someone called Roy and you had to be awake in two hours for a fucking conference, and you’d only just fallen asleep at 1am.
So you marched out of your house to the sidewalk where your prick neighbor was arguing with his prick coach and told him to shut the fuck up or I’m calling the police.
He opened his mouth to retort, changed his mind, then made a snide comment about your choice of outfit while you glared at him. His prick coach had the decency to apologize and smack Jamie on the head, so you said, “You’re fine, Roy, I’ll see you at work next week,” and Roy said, “Ah shit, you have that fucking conference, yeah?” and you said yeah then flipped off Jamie as you walked away.
You really hadn’t had many interactions with Jamie before, but you knew him before you started your job as an administrative assistant for AFC Richmond since you were, after all, living right next to each other.
Your last job had paid incredibly well; you were basically the go-to girl for your last company for two and half years. You compiled all relevant information from the day and presented to your boss so he would be caught up on the company’s inner workings. You were observant when it came to valuable (or toxic) employees, and had gained a reputation for being an invaluable asset.
But your old boss was retiring and you were ready for something new, so you began looking around. You found a job at AFC Richmond, assisting a Mr. Higgins and just generally making sure his job ran smoothly so the club could run smoothly.
It was mostly paperwork, but you enjoyed it. You collected data from all different departments and then ran it by Higgins and Ms. Welton. You weren’t above coffee runs; it was nice to get out sometimes and Ms. Welton would put your coffee on her bill. You got to take your lunch breaks with them and talk and laugh, and be appreciated, which is something you didn’t often get.
The nature of your job demands a certain level of… professionalism, shall we say, which can be misconstrued as coldness. You’re not. You’re just young and trying to be taken seriously, which is why it’s nice to be known both in a personal and professional capacity by Higgins and Ms. Welton. Higgins has even invited you over for family dinner and you’d invited his family over to yours. His boys had absolutely lost their minds at the amount of nerf guns you had stashed in each room, courtesy of your brother who often liked to drop by unannounced when he knew you were home and get you in the back of the head. Sometimes you regretted giving him a key, but not enough to take it back.
All that to say, it was a relatively seamless transition to AFC Richmond. You and Jamie would exchange a neighborly nod if you saw each other, but that was absolutely it.
—
The next incident is, uh, kind of your fault.
Remember the brother-and-nerf-guns thing?
Yeah.
Your brother had sneaked over on a Sunday (parked around the corner so his car wouldn’t be seen on your security cameras) and you were chasing each other around the house. Your sister-in-law had warned you he was coming over (he asked her to drive him), so you were prepared and hiding in the bushes. He was nonchalantly walking on the sidewalk, hands in his hoodie, when you popped out and got him right in the chest then booked it into your house, which led to a solid fifteen minutes of running and yelling, with the occasional, “Ow, you jerk!” that siblings are always saying but never really mean.
The incident occurs when you’re once again in your front yard running from your brother. You look back to assess how far away he is when smack, you run into someone and feel their beverage go flying.
It’s Jamie, and his bright pink drink is now all over his clean white hoodie.
You both stop and glare at each other.
You had stopped feigning civility after the 4am thing, so the glare is standard procedure.
Jamie says, “What the fuck?” as your brother comes careening to an abrupt halt.
You’re still glaring. “Why are asking me ‘what the fuck?’ You’re the one walking around here with that fucking awful drink that’s probably going to kill your internal organs. I mean seriously, it cannot be safe to consume something that bright.”
“Says the girl who’s addicted to diet soda.”
“Says the girl who’s fucking pissed that her sidewalk is stained fucking bright pink. How the fuck am I supposed to clean this?”
Jamie’s face is red now, and yours is too.
“A), it’s a fucking public sidewalk and b), what about my fucking sweatshirt? This cost more than your shitty car!” he shoots back, and that’s the moment a line is crossed.
“We live in the same goddamn neighborhood,” you hiss, “so shut the fuck up with your stupid elitist footballer bullshit.”
“Oi, at least I’m not a fucking stuck-up, self-righteous big-shot with no friends!”
You’re not sure what would have happened next because your brother grabs you by the arm and hauls you back inside, waving apologetically to Jamie. All the fight goes out of you as soon as the door shuts.
“What the ever-loving hell was that?” he asks. He never did like using the word “fuck.”
—
What the ever-loving hell was that? Well, it’s actually quite simple. In the seven months you’ve been at Richmond, you haven’t really made any friends.
Yes, you have Ms. Welton and Higgins, but that’s not the same as having people the same age as you to go out with and watch movies and drink and dance and just be stupid and unwind with.
You’re not even necessarily looking for friends at Nelson Road, just friends somewhere. The problem is, you’re not even sure how to go about it. You’ve spent the last decade of your life (yes, decade) working your ass off to get where you are now. Fourteen year-old knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. You had hustled through school, made connections, grew your resume, and saved every fucking penny until you landed a job that you were definitely under qualified for, but you had nailed the interview. You weren’t sure why your boss decided to take a chance on you, until he told you later he saw the same spark his daughter had in your eyes.
His daughter, who had become a multi-millionaire on her own by the time she was twenty-seven.
So, because someone saw the grit in your eyes of all places, you had a chance to make a fuck ton of money and have a fuck ton of benefits.
You made more connections, including a realtor who set you up with your current home at a price that was insane to normal people, but a steal to the rich. You were signing papers before it was even officially on the market.
It had been labelled as a “fixer-upper,” but that meant a little bit of scuffed paint and slightly outdated utilities.
And it was yours.
It all came at a price though, didn’t it?
That price was not seeing your family often, sleeping poorly, and no real friends.
That’s why your brother makes it a point to come around. He knows that your lack of contact does not equate a lack of love.
Not everyone saw it that way. You’d lost all your friends at this point, labeled a bitch and a workaholic. So, you though, why the hell not just lean into it. You could be a bitch and a workaholic if it got things done. It was easier to harden the shell around your heart than let people in again.
—
Ok, maybe taking out all that anger on Jamie isn’t healthy, but hey, he’s the one fighting back so hard.
Things keep happening. His foot is stuck out just enough to make you stumble as you pass each other in the hallway, your car is parked on the street just enough so he can’t get into his garage, ferocious glares are exchanged. Any conversation you are forced to have is laced with sarcastic, biting remarks that only serve make you close off even more.
The worst part? You’re both fucking brilliant at hiding it.
You’d have to be, especially at AFC Richmond under Ted Lasso’s command. If he got wind of this, he’d be all over it trying to fix it and neither of you want that.
You see, Jamie’s a little bit fucked up too.
—
You’ve been at AFC Richmond for a year, and you’ve hated Jamie Tartt for eleven months.
Yet somehow, you’re in fucking Paris.
Not with just Jamie, of course, but the whole team.
Rebecca’s basically given you a paid vacation because there isn’t much for you to do here. It’s great, the city of lights or something, but you can’t enjoy it.
You’re in your room on the floor, becoming slowly dehydrated from crying.
Everything is all fuzzy and you’re incredibly disoriented, so you think you might be hallucinating when you hear a knock on the door.
It happens again, more insistently, and you think it’s probably Rebecca so you drag yourself up off the floor, wipe your eyes, and open it to find Jamie Tartt standing in front of you, clearly wishing to be anywhere else.
He’s staring at the top of the doorframe as he says, “Coach sent me to see if you want to go out with the lads tonight,” looking down only when you’ve left his statement unanswered for far too long.
His look of annoyance changes as he clocks your puffy eyes and red nose.
“You alright?” he asks and you don’t even have the heart to say, obviously, don’t I look it? so you just nod and move to shut the door.
Jamie blocks it with his hand and pushes it back open, then past you into the room.
It’s pristine, all marble and gold; and far too big for you. You would have preferred something smaller, something less empty. Something less cold.
All you can do is stand there mutely in your t-shirt and sweatpants, watching your worst enemy clatter around in the room’s fridge looking for a water bottle.
He retrieves one and hands it to you, cap unscrewed.
You don’t ask if he’s spit in it, just take a sip and look at him with dead eyes.
“You look like shit,” he observes, breaking the silence.
It’s not a dig. You’ve heard enough condescension from his lips to know when he’s fighting.
You shrug.
“You gonna say something?” Jamie asks, and that’s enough to get you going.
“You’re the one who’s in my room,” you say and instead of firing back, Jamie grins.
“We can go to mine if you want, love,” he winks and in a terrible, awful, panic-inducing moment, you are thrown completely off your guard.
How the fuck are you supposed to reconcile this Jamie Tartt with the awful neighbor you hate? And is he- flirting? Surely not.
He registers your face going through a million expressions in an instant and sobers.
“Go sit,” he says, and you comply without thinking. You’re cross-legged on the couch and he thumps down next to you. He’s not close enough that you’re touching, but you can feel the heat radiating off his body. It’s funny, because you feel so cold. You wonder for a moment if your heart has actually turned to stone and that’s why you’re shivering.
You hear someone say, “My ex is here,” and are horrified to realize that you’re the one talking, and not only that, but you’re continuing.
“He fucking… knew I’d be here. I saw him in the lobby. He acted like it was some great coincidence, but he was never a great liar. And… he’s here with his girlfriend. Fiancée, I guess. Because he’s proposing to her tonight. They’ve known each other less than a year, and he’s proposing to her. I saw him in the lobby looking like this while he’s in a fucking suit and all I can think about is the fact that he broke up with me because I wouldn’t put out because I wasn’t ready. And how he said he wasn’t the marrying type.” You pause.
“I broke my back making time for him. Everyone thinks I’m a workaholic and maybe I am, but I make time for the people I love. I made time for him. It sounds funny to say, especially how I am now, but he’s why I don’t anymore. Make time, I mean. Nobody notices I’m gone anyway. Or when I’m around. Or anything I do unless I’m doing something for them.”
You risk a look at Jamie. He’s studying your face with an intensity you’ve never seen and you look down to find his hand in yours, and you wonder how that happened. Your knuckles are white from gripping it but he’s holding it back and it gives you just enough of a boost to keep going.
“I don’t even want the money for myself. Like, I’m able to buy expensive shit and that’s cool, but the only reason I have a house that big is because my brother and his wife have a shit-ton of kids, and sometimes they need a break. So they can come over to mine and run around and have space and be wild for a week and I don’t care. They won’t let me give them money, so I have to think of creative ways to help them out. I only have nephews- they each have their own trust fund. It’s not that big right now, but it’s growing. It’ll be a lot by the time they’re each eighteen. And my parents… They died when I was fourteen. It was a stupid car accident, this freak thing with the brakes even though they’d just had the car serviced a week before. My brother was twenty one and newly married because he’s an idiot and he was in love. He and his wife let me live with them.”
You shake your head. “No, that’s not right, they didn’t just let me live with them, they took care of me. Bought me clothes and fed me and let me have my own room even though I said I could sleep on the couch. They could barely afford things for themselves, but they made sure I had what I needed. That’s why I threw myself into work and pushed people away. It’s for them, because I know I can never repay them. But I want to, even if they won’t let me.”
You’re done speaking, finally, and your face is bright red. It normally is when speaking to Jamie, but that’s from the sheer anger you usually feel from having to deal with him. This time it’s different. It’s from the embarrassment of being vulnerable in front of someone.
Jamie hasn’t said anything the whole time, just let you hold his hand. Your knees are touching now, and you realize that one of you must have shifted to make that happen.
You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Why are you here, Jamie?” you ask softly. “You hate me. I don’t even know why I told you all that.”
He looks straight into your eyes. “I don’t hate you,” he says simply.
That’s enough to fully shatter the shell around your heart, and you’re shaking with silent sobs again as Jamie pulls you closer, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.
—
You fall asleep like that, and you’re not sure at which point Jamie left. But when you wake up, you’re in your bed under a blanket. You think maybe you dreamed the whole thing until you see the note on your nightstand in messy handwriting.
I meant what I said.
—
Neither you nor Jamie comment on it, but something has changed. You don’t hate him anymore. He sits next to you on the plane back and cracks jokes, and you have a weird opportunity to apologize. He tells you he’s sorry too, explains about his dad, and you form a strange bond of repressed anger as a way to deal with hurt.
Ted is right, forgiveness is the way to go.
—
Jamie Tartt makes it a point to ask you to go out with the lads every time they do group activities. You meet Rebecca’s friend Keeley, basically the only other girl, and pretty soon she’s invited herself over for girl’s nights. Jamie recognizes Keeley’s car the second time it happens and walks over to say hey. She invites him in, and suddenly he’s a fixture at girl’s night. His movie recommendations are shit, but his skincare products are not.
Since things at AFC Richmond aren’t as hectic as you’re used to, you start to pick up some of your old hobbies. Cooking, for example. You get your hands on a copy of Jamie’s diet plan and start experimenting with ways to make it more interesting. So now he’s at yours for dinner more often than not.
He pops his head over the fence one Saturday afternoon, hearing young voices all morning. Your nephews are over and playing football in the backyard while your brother and sister-in-law deep clean their house. You’re sitting under an umbrella with the baby in your arms and a pitcher of water, when you hear Isaiah, the oldest, say, “Whoa! Is that Jamie Tartt?”
You look up from Daniel’s tiny giggly face to see Jamie hanging over your fence and waving. You roll your eyes and grin back.
“Wanna come over?” you call, and the words are barely our of your mouth before he’s hopped over and starting to steal the ball from your four walking nephews.
They’re at it for a good thirty minutes before he calls time-out and is jogging over to you, all sweaty and grinning.
“Didn’t know you were good with kids,” he says.
“Could say the same thing about you,” you shoot back.
He grabs water then makes a silly face at Daniel, who giggles and waves his arms. You laugh and kiss the baby on the top of his head, which makes him gurgle. You look up to see Jamie watching you strangely, so you wrinkle your nose at him. “What?” you say, but before he can open his mouth to respond, Jesse is pulling on Jamie’s hand, telling him the time-out is over.
—
Your next interaction of note happens after your third consecutive Richmond match. You don’t usually go to them, as it’s not required and you didn’t really care. But since you’ve been hanging out with the team, you find yourself taking Rebecca up on her offer to sit in the owner’s box. It’s three days until the next match and you’re looking for Jamie so you can eat lunch together. You find him in the locker room of all places and hand him his bag of food, yet another one of your experiments.
You’re starting to get really good revitalizing Jamie’s meal plan.
His eyes light up when he sees you, and you both miss the looks exchanged between Ted and Beard in their office.
Jamie puts down the lunch and says, “Oi, I got you something.” He reaches into his locker and pulls out a Richmond jersey.
“It’s new, it ain’t one of mine, but now you can wear it to matches.”
You shake it open to see it’s a Jamie Tartt jersey, and this makes you unreasonably happy.
Jamie’s grinning too, and it’s the rare kind of grin where his teeth look sharper and his eyes flash.
You hug it to your chest and say, “I’ll be sure to wear it Saturday,” before you and Jamie head to the café to eat.
—
Keeley, of course, has comments about the jersey. You pretend not to understand what she’s saying.
—
It’s girls night again, and you and Jamie are pulling snacks out of his cabinets when your phones ding at the same time. It’s Keeley on your groupchat.
Can’t make it babes, something’s come up.
You make a comment involving the words “Roy Kent,” and riffing on her excuse, which makes Jamie laugh.
“I guess I’ll head back to mine,” you say, but Jamie tilts his head and says, “Or you could just… stay,” so you do.
You’re on his couch again, like the night you stopped hating him: your back agains his chest as you rub your thumb absentmindedly on his tattooed forearm.
You’re midway through the movie and explaining to Jamie the limited plausibility of it happening in real life, when he says a soft, oh shit as you pause to take a breath.
“What?” you say, sitting up. “Is everything alright?”
Jamie rubs a hand across his face. “You’re gonna fucking hate me again.”
You squint. “Not sure that’s possible. You’ve got too much dirt on me.”
Jamie just groans. “Nah, you’ll hate me. But I’m gonna tell you anyway.”
He grabs your hand and looks you straight in your eyes, giving you goosebumps.
“I’m fucking in love with you,” he says, and your brain still functions just enough to crash your lips into his.
You’re on top of him and his fingers are tangled in your hair, but as your fingers ghost his waistband, he stills and grabs your hand.
You freeze too, afraid you’ve crossed a line, but Jamie says, “I’m not fucking you for the first time on my couch. We’re going to do this proper,” and then he’s whisking you off your feet and up the stairs.
—
You know that fucking someone you work with is a line you said you’d never cross. But he was your neighbor first, and you’re in love, so it doesn’t count. You’re lying on Jamie’s bed gasping for air after god knows how long and all you can say is, “fuck me.”
Jamie smirks. “Thought I just did, babe, but I’ll go again,” and you’re seeing stars for the third time that night.
He’s sucking a line across your collarbone when you say, “Wait!”
Jamie is off of you in a moment, and you feel strangely empty.
“You alright?” he asks, all concern.
“I never said it back,” you explain. Jamie’s still confused.
“I love you too. You said you’re fucking in love with me. I’m in love with you too. Just thought I should make it clear.”
Jamie’s looking at you all strange again, eyes dark, so you roll him back on top and let him devour you.
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#jamie tartt imagine
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Question: I enjoyed s1 OF OFMD, but for various reasons I never actually got around to watching s2 (pick up most of the plot from tumblr tho). What exactly went wrong in s2 that got so many people upset?
Oh, boy. Very long rant incoming.
So, for context, S2 had a significantly smaller budget, which necessitated moving the filming location to union-unfriendly New Zealand, reducing the number of actors/number of appearances of established actors, and cutting down the number of episodes from 10 to 8. In a show where each episode is only about half an hour long, that last one alone was enough to seriously hamper any character development or plot. I am very comfortable putting the vast majority of the blame on HBO because of these financial decisions.
The short version is that Jenkins et. al. needed to address and build on the problems left hanging in S1 while also getting the characters to the end of their character trajectories in case there was no S3 while also leaving room for additional episodes in case there was a S3, in a grand total of four hours, and failed.
The long version is that there were a bunch of what I'd consider small problems in isolation that came together and exploded in the S2 finale.
The reduced cast necessitated breaking up the crew (ex: having Swede marry Jackie and stay on land with her, so they don't need to pay Nat Faxon for all eight episodes) and not spending as much time on their relationships as S1 did.
The reduced time meant that the entire season was rushed (in contrast to S1, which takes place over at least several weeks if not months, most of S2 takes place in roughly five days), leading both to a lot of telling rather than showing (because they don't have time to show you), including vital character and relationship development.
This includes:
Having the Kraken half of the crew beat Ed to death after months of being abused by him – abuse that is clearly shown to have given them PTSD and a well-justified fear and hatred of him – only for them to be okay with him two in-universe days later;
On that note, having Stede dismiss the crew's concerns about Ed because he loves him and also we only have three more episodes left to fit in everything so we need to get over it really fast, even though Stede is supposed to be well-meaning and caring (even if he's not good at it all the time);
Resolving the issue of Stede abandoning Ed in one day, then having them "go slowly" in their relationship for two days and then have some spur-of-the-moment sex, and then the next afternoon have them break up over their diverging career aspirations, and then the day after that resolve that problem and retire on land while the rest of the crew sails off into the sunset;
Stede becoming a fantastic pirate captain over the course of one day, becoming wildly popular in the piracy world two days later, and then deciding the day after that to never be a captain again because he is retiring with Ed;
Having Ed and Stede decide to retire together as what is implied to be the end point of their relationship arc, when none of Stede's issues from S1, like his poor self-esteem, have been so much as mentioned by anyone, implying that he's either magically gotten over them or they don't matter all that much, actually, even though they were the catalyst for basically everything he did in S1;
Ed having two separate character crises – "I am an unlovable person" and "I want to do something with my life other than piracy" – not spending a lot of time on either one, having moments that clearly indicate he is still working on both problems and they have not been resolved, and then apparently having them both be resolved in the final episode despite nothing occurring to actually make that happen, and in regards to the latter, despite the story actively undermining it by repeatedly showing he can't do anything other than piracy;
Related to the above, Ed ending the series as allegedly being loved by the crew as a family (thus solving Crisis #1) despite this never actually being shown, demonstrated, or even fucking alluded to onscreen. If anything, it shows the exact opposite.
This last point is especially galling to me because of what is probably the most divisive issue in the fandom right now: killing off Izzy Hands after giving him seven episodes of character development.
The show begins with the Kraken crew clearly trying to use the skills they learned as part of Stede's crew to cope with their incredibly shitty situation and care for each other, which includes Izzy. Izzy, on his end, tries to protect the crew and speak up for them, which results in him being repeatedly hurt (both implicitly, as Ed at one point says "that's another toe" in response to Izzy advocating for the crew and we later see he's missing more than one toe already, and explicitly, as Ed shoots him in the fucking leg in front of the crew when he stands up for them).
This camaraderie is shown again and again and again. Frenchie, Jim, and Archie take care of Izzy while his leg is infected, at risk to their own lives. Izzy's misery over losing his leg is what unites the PTSD-ridden Kraken crew and the well-meaning-but-ignorant-of-PTSD marooned crew, who are initially at odds, to make him a new prosthetic leg. Izzy gives Lucius advice about forgiving Ed. Izzy is introduced to drag and opens up enough to sing at a crew party, and the whole crew is having fun together while Ed and Stede are in their cabin having sex for the first time. Izzy gives Stede pirate captain lessons and bonds with him when Ed leaves him. Izzy provokes the season's villain into focusing on him and then gives a big speech about how piracy is about belonging to something, giving the rest of the crew time to try to escape.
Recall that Season 1 had some pretty well-established universe rules, one of which was that it runs on Muppet physics/magical realism. People can jump off yardarms, hit the side on the way down, and be perfectly fine. People can get stabbed in the liver and it's totally okay because it's probably not that important, and even can stay pinned to a mast all night that way with only mild discomfort. Buttons can talk to birds and see long distances without a spyglass and put hexes on people. Good people can be hurt (Stede is stabbed repeatedly), bad people can die (the Badmintons, Geraldo), but no one we care about is ever killed.
This is repeated in Season 2: Ed is beaten into a coma with a cannonball and wakes up like Sleeping Beauty after a spirit journey, with no injuries to his face or body. Buttons turns into a seagull after spending an episode doing a magic ritual and is never seen again (because they couldn't keep paying Ewen Bremner due to the budget cuts). Jackie microdoses her husbands with poison to build up their immunity, so that she can later pull a Dread Pirate Westley and poison the British with shared drinks.
So: in the finale, the villain of the season is taken hostage by the pirates (for reasons? unclear how that fits in the plan), happens to have a gun on him (no one checked??), shoots Izzy on the right side and then leaves with no repercussions. The entire crew stands around silently doing nothing while Ed cries over Izzy and tells him that he's his only family.
And Izzy fucking Hands, the guy who just spent eight episodes bonding with and protecting everyone, uses his last words to reassure Ed that him becoming Blackbeard/the Kraken was Izzy's fault and that the crew is Ed's family and they all love him. No one else says anything to Izzy or tries to comfort him or help him in any way.
I repeat: in a show predicated on the idea that bullies and bigots die stupid deaths while queer people and POC are basically magic, a show that was praised for being kind to queer people by not making them worry about their faves suffering or dying, a show founded on the strength of the relationships between the characters, the guy who went through a season-long arc of learning to embrace his pirate found family and his own queerness is shot for stupid reasons on the side we're told isn't important and dies while everyone just stands there. His last words are about the whole crew loving Ed when the only person that the whole crew has loved all season is him.
Anyway, never mind all that, let's cut to Lucius and Pete getting married and Stede and Ed retiring!
Complicating all this is that people who liked Izzy (or even said anything insufficiently mean about Izzy) were harassed for months in between seasons with insults, slurs, and actual fucking death threats. Izzy's growth was kind of a vindication for liking him: it meant that, despite all the harassment, we were right to like him and care about him as a character. Even people who didn't like him initially started to like him during Season 2.
And then he dies, and now there's a bunch of people saying that Izzy fans are big whiny babies who can't handle fictional death, and actually his death was so meaningful and beautiful and the only logical end to his arc, and it can't be bad writing because people die in real life all the time, and also he admitted he fed Ed's darkness so actually he was a terrible person all along anyway and they were right to hate him (and his fans)!
So, yeah, there are a lot of reasons why it's so hated, and I'm probably only addressing the problems of the pro-Izzy people (from what I can tell, BlackBonnet shippers who don't like Izzy think Ed and Stede's relationship is fine and dandy, but I'm sure that there are other criticisms they have that I have not addressed). I'm not even addressing the issues with Jim and Oluwande's relationship this season (and whooo boy are there issues).
It wasn't a universally bad season. There were episodes I really loved and still do. But the finale was a train wreck, and because it was a train wreck, a lot of people are looking back at what happened before the wreck and realizing that, oh, the train lost its brakes and steering because of the budget cuts and the engineers kept throwing fuel in the engine to make it go faster, and huh, now that I think of it, that part earlier in the trip was really wobbly but I didn't pay much attention to it at the time because I was sure the engineers had everything covered.
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Read between the lines
Theodore Nott x reader
Warnings: limited swearing, kissing
Description: The reader comes to terms with their feelings for Theo through the narrator and the narrator's subconscious.
The Slytherin dormitories were by far the best out of all the houses and that wasn’t something you thought just out of bias or pride for your own house, it was the objective truth. While the other houses shared their dormitories with anywhere from one to four roommates (to foster teamwork or cooperation, you presumed), the Slytherin dormitories were one to a room (likely to foster individuality and self-dependence). Gryffindor had some system to stop the boys from entering the girls’ dormitories apparently, a shame for them, really, because Slytherin trusted its students enough that no such system was implemented for you. Sure, there was the occasional pregnancy scare but no more than the amount that came out of the girls sneaking into the boys rooms in Gryffindor. And, as if that wasn’t enough, each room had its own private en suite bathroom to add that extra level of superiority over the other houses.
Everyone in Slytherin liked to boast that their room was the best. Between the designer decorations their parents bought them and the hours they spent rearranging furniture, it could occasionally get a little competitive. Your own room was nice but nothing too fancy. Of course, your parents were well off (that was basically a prerequisite of Slytherin), but they weren’t the kind to show that off. Only your father had gone to Hogwarts and, unlike you, he was a Hufflepuff, so he was always a firm believer in having a more modest amount of belongings. Your room definitely had his influence, with sketches of his favourite dragons, cuts of plants from his garden, and an old mirror of his.
Of all your friends’ rooms, it was Theo’s that you found to be “the best.” That’s why you were headed there to study with him in the comfort of his sheep’s wool blanket (and occasionally his arms if you were too tired to bother). It was a study nook rather than a bedroom, with enough books to fill a library and a collection of antique pens. Truly, the best place to study, the best place to be and the best of the Slytherin bedrooms.
“Excuse me, Y/n L/n?” You turned at the sound of your name to see a tall, olive-skinned girl with blue lining in her robes standing awkwardly amongst a small group of girls.
Not all of them were from your year but the one who called your name certainly was. Last year you had… What was it? Oh yes, you had Care of Magical Creatures with her. She had her bow stolen straight from her black hair by a pixie and Draco, ever the kind boy, had teased her relentlessly about it for the rest of the week. Quite hypocritical of him, considering his own track record with magical creatures, but it wasn’t any of your concern. Her name was something like, Ann or Sam or… Sue! Sue Li (you were never good with names).
“How can I help you, Li?” You said politely, unsure whether she’d prefer you call her by her first or last name, “There isn’t anything wrong, is there?”
“No, no, everything’s fine, um,” she barely made eye-contact with you, her head tilted to the left to hide her gaze, “You’re friends with Theodore Nott, right?”
A half-laugh escaped your lips at the coincidence that she was asking after the very person you were on your way to see. It took her aback, her face lighting up with offence before you quickly apologised, explaining that you hadn’t meant to laugh at her, rather, at the coincidence you found yourself in. She nodded and her shoulders relaxed, like a weight had been taken off them by your openness to chat.
“I was just wondering, you know, Valentine’s is next week, and, well…” Li danced around the point of the conversation for a while, stalling with enough ‘uh’s and ‘erm’s to last you a lifetime, “I was wondering if he — Nott, that is — had a date?”
Valentine’s day. You’d forgotten about that. Never in all your years had you celebrated Valentine’s day (not that you hadn’t wanted to). Neither had Theo as far as you knew (not that he hadn’t wanted to). He wasn’t really the romantic type, to be honest, he’d never so much as mentioned a crush or told you he found someone attractive, let alone talked to you about a Valentine’s date. Theo was the private type, he didn’t like parties or team sports or group projects, Merlin’s beard, he didn’t even like it when people went in his room (other than you, of course). To think he would agree to a date with someone without talking to you and having an entire identity crisis first was out of the question. So, you supposed the short answer was no.
“I don’t believe so,” you told Li.
“Oh! Good! Well, then, would you give him this?” She asked and handed you an envelope sealed with a little blue and silver spot of wax.
Before you even had the time to answer she had waved a ‘thank you’ and skipped off in the other direction, giggling with her friends. You blinked twice and pocketed the envelope, turning on your heel to continue your journey to Theo’s room. On your walk through the halls you found your fingers blindly playing with the wax seal in your pocket. As if of their own accord they were picking it off. Letters are a confidential thing, and you knew for sure (well, you were pretty sure) Theo would be (maybe slightly) upset if you opened his letter without permission. You already knew what was inside, it was obviously a declaration of love.
Would Theo like a love letter? Truthfully, he presented as the kind of guy that would hate the complexity of a love letter. If, say, you were to confess your love to Theo (not that you were in love with him or whatever, but just for argument’s sake), what would you do? He’d like for you to tell him casually, you thought, as if it was just another everyday conversation. Grand gestures weren’t his thing, he was a quiet guy, a reserved guy, again: a private guy. The intimacy of the moment would be enough for him; your arms slightly grazing each other as you sat side-by-side in his bed, your faces so close that you’d be breathing the same air, your legs interlocked under the sheets (because if no one else saw it, it wasn’t happening, right?). You didn’t love Theo, but you knew how you would love him (liar, you wanted him). What? (You had ripped the envelope in your hand by the time you got to the entrance to the Slytherin common room).
“Password?” The portrait of Elizabeth Burke, an ancestor of yours, asked as if you didn’t see her every day.
“Slytherins are supreme,” you replied and she swung forward to let you in.
“Pass, poppet,” she said fondly, “Remember to make our family proud.”
The response you gave her every day escaped your mouth robotically — something like ‘always do’ or whatever it was — and you stepped into the common room. Almost home. ‘Home’ wasn’t your room, no, despite the multitudes of furniture and decorations that were from your actual house in rural England, you didn’t feel as at home in your own room as you did in Theo’s (I wonder why). Shut up. (Theo’s room was nice and all, but it was just another room. The same bricks that built yours had built his. They were identical down to the centimetre, apart from the odd extra piece of furniture and a few of your own personal touches—) Merlin’s beard, who’s story is this? (— The only real difference between your room and his was that yours didn’t have him.) Pansy interrupted you on your way, her hair in two braids. Over the years it had grown rather long, from just under her chin when you were all first years to her shoulders. (Some of your other friends had grown too, a particular Theodore Nott comes to mind. Where once was a short, meagre little boy, was now a man who towered over you with just the right amount of muscle to attract you). Stop it, please.
“Are you going up there to snog him?” Pansy teased (she gets it), “You guys never get your homework finished and, quite frankly, it’s a little suspicious.”
“We’re just friends who have too much to talk about,” you laughed (but it was laced with a sense of pride. Did other people think you were snogging him? Did the two of you appear like a couple?).
Pansy scoffed, not believing a word you said (as she shouldn’t) but too exhausted from double Defence Against the Dark Arts to argue with you. At the door to Theo’s room, you paused and let your fist hover above the deep brown wood. Nerves? You were just going to study, like you always did. Why on earth would you be nervous? (Maybe because you liked him and it was finally dawning on you that, by Salazar, you’d torn up a love letter that was surely going to get chased up. How did you plan to lie your way out of, or even justify that decision?) The door opened before you got the chance to knock and your eyes were blessed with the sight of Theodore Nott, who looked down at you with furrowed brows.
“Why are you just standing here?” He asked.
“Sue Li gave me a letter for you,” you said, refusing to acknowledge his question.
“That Ravenclaw girl who got her bow stolen last year in CoMC?”
The nod you gave him shook a loose eyelash from your eyelid and you watched it fall down onto your cheek then pushed straight past him and made yourself comfortable in his bed (and he was alright with this despite all these claims of being a “private person” because anything for you, Y/n, dear). It was only Autumn but already the Winter chill was starting to settle into the centuries-old uninsulated castle that was Hogwarts. Professor Flitwick cast a heating spell every year at the beginning of December but sometimes Autumn got nippy enough that students would go beg for it to be cast a bit earlier. Hopefully, that would be the case this year. The sheep’s wool blanket was a blessing on your legs that were previously covered only by your crappiest thin stockings.
“Can I see the letter?” Theo pushed.
You looked up at him through mascara clad eyelashes, one lash less thick than minutes prior, and silently prayed that your tongue would fall out so you’d never have to embarrass yourself by telling the truth. (You couldn’t lie to him, not to Theo). Would you like to take over? (I really, truly would.) Fine. Go for it. (Much appreciated. Theo could see through you, that was something you really admired about him. Transparency came easy when the other party already seemed to know everything.
“I threw it away,” you said.
Were you ashamed? Of course you were. There was always the chance that Theo may have liked Li or wanted to get to know her and you had taken it upon yourself to, quite literally, throw that chance away. Theo didn’t mind, though. He elbowed you until you slid over to the other side of his bed to make room for him under the covers and he sat down next to you. It was perfect. Exactly how you’d imagined it. Your arms were like atoms, so close but never daring to touch. Your faces had closed in and the air you breathed was hot and moist. It was his air. Under the blanket his legs sought yours out like an explorer wandering through uncharted land. When they found yours they locked, knowing they were where they wanted to be.
He took a breath in, inhaling you, “Why did you throw it away, Y/n/n, dear?”
“She wanted to be your Valentine’s.” He breathed out and you inhaled him in return.
He inched closer to let the tips of your noses touch, obscuring your vision and blurring his face, “I don’t even know her.”
He knew you. Theo had known you since the first time he saw you on the Hogwarts Express in your colourless robes with an excited but airy aura about you. Theo had known you since third year when he watched you verbally assault Draco so severely that you were handing his ass to him, stick and all. Theo had known you since fifth year when you slapped that Hermione Granger girl right across the face for insulting your family’s line of work. Although, perhaps, ‘knew’ wasn’t the right word.
“I don’t love her,” he said.
“Good,” you said with a smile, “Who do you love?”
“Let’s save it for Valentine’s day, eh?”
Right there in his face, you scoffed at him. Neither of you had ever celebrated Valentine’s day, there wasn’t a chance in all that is holy that you were going to start then. So, you leaned your chin in and captured his mouth in yours.
You pulled away, “Who do you love?”
“You, Y/n/n, you, you,” he rushed, stumbling over his words, “I love you.”
“I love you.”)
#theodore nott#theo nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter x reader#hp fandom#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#pansy parkinson#blaise zabini#draco malfoy imagine#theo nott x reader#theo nott x you#theo nott x y/n#slytherin#slytherin x reader#slytherin x slytherin
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Aita for not making any of my characters, that I have to crank out daily, pansexual/polysexual/omnisexual specifically and only making them bi?
🏳️🌈👶🏼 so i can recognize this later lmao also I'm not panphobic or anything, this isn't about the validity of the label, pan is fine.
So i (20snb bi) have a project I'm working on where I take all the characters from a specifc media I'm into and pair them up with each other to make every possible ship kid from every possible ship(excluding characters who are kids themselves or are related or something, that shit is gross). Basically taking every character and pairing them up with another and creating a kid I think they'd have. Its a big project with lots of characters and I'm easily over 400 at this point. I really enjoy this, even if I'm not even 25% complete.
However I set a schedule for myself that at least one ship kid needs to come out each day which, considering I draw them, color them and give them some development and some even have siblings, (The refs themselves easily take me an hour to an hour and a half) I have to make lots of them quickly to keep up with my daily grind. I've been doing this project for over a year and although it's stressful, I can get them out quickly with breaks for myself.
Their character sheets all have some pretty basic info like their name, gender, pronouns, personality and more but it also includes their sexuality/orientation. I have a pretty basic list of options for what their sexuality will be: straight, lesbian, gay, Enbian, bi, Aro, ace and aroace with a few random things like polyam, WLW and a good amount of the something-loving-something/juvelic terms. I did this because, well, there's not many entirely unique orientations outside of them and although I love mogai/xenogenders and complex identities, I dont want to potentially drag up discourse or bring problems to my budding art blog over it. Its just not worth it to me to turn something I really care about on its head, even if I like microlabels.
In this case, I'm using bi as an umbrella term as most of the other terms share the same definition with slight variations in wording or action but not much difference in practice. We all like everyone, it's basic stuff. However, apparently this is a problem.
I've gotten one or two anons asking me questions about my guides asking some kind stuff like is this lesbian ship kid a butch or femme or Is this picture of them now or just at the age you put on the ref and other harmless stuff. Then things got rude with some Nbphobia but thrice now I've gotten asks:
1. Asking snarkily if im a panphobe
2. insulting me for not specifically writing pan or Omni and just writing bi.
3. Saying that I "clearly dont care about pansexual representation." Then brought up how my primary oc is native american so i clearly care about representation but that oc used to be a sona and I'm native?? Its confusing. (And Lowkey racist shit to just assume any native character is a "diversity quota" character instead of just a person existing but I digress-)
Im not pan, im bi so ig these people assume I'm not cool with pan people which isnt true? I have nothing aginest them, they are just pretty similar and I dont feel like it matters if they are specfically bi or pan or poly or any other label. I don't go into details like that for any other sub-group, not even pronouns and I included combinations and some common Neopronouns. I understand the importance of representation but my project has less than 50 people looking at it every day, Im not netflix or something. I'm one guy on the most LGBT blogging site with a big project and very little audience, I'm not showing people who wouldn't already know what pan is that pansexuality exists.
This project isn't that deep considering the characters in question aren't human/dont have human characteristics.(no it's not hazbin/helluva) Also ive never spoken about lgbt discourse or stated anything remotely close to it beyond the guides just passively having characters who are an LGBT identity. I've not even mentioned all the potentional orientations they could have so I'm not sure where/why this came up in the first place. The most politcial things ive said are calling out a creator in my fandom who outed themselves as a transphobe and mentioning im pro-palestine. That's it.
I mean this is pretty low stakes, I can just block these people and be done with it and this some seriously online shit but I just wanna check.
Am I being an asshole for just writing bi instead of specifying their mspec label because I have to produce characters quickly and I don't see enough of a difference to warrant a change/specification that would ultimately slow and clog an already stressful and complex project?
I dont think I am but idk lol
What are these acronyms?
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Double-Sided
John Price x Fem! “Peach” Reader
Tags: Angst. Momma Peach and Poppa Price fight in front of the “kids.”
Word Count: 4.8k
“I would’ve if you had let me.”
She had been at it for hours.
She had a side stitch from standing for so long and the splitting pain in her head was only getting worse with each passing moment. The stress and tension of the room didn’t help, but there was no way she was giving in.
She could do this all day, but it was beginning to take a toll on her.
Her brain felt like it was swimming in circles. The same movements repeated in her hand gestures and leg motions, and the same threats and words of venom spit from her mouth as she tried to break the man sitting in the middle of the room.
Apparently, he had the same kind of patience that she did. Besides, it wasn’t like he could go anywhere.
He had stopped trying to fight the restraints of his chair long ago. He wasn’t getting up from where he sat without some outside help, which he most surely wouldn’t be getting. Ghost and Soap had been the ones to wrestle and tie him down, so the odds of him getting loose were slim to none.
It was well into the night. Darkness and stars had painted the sky hours ago. Too bad she and the rest of the Force were stuck inside trying to get answers out of this scumbag, who didn’t show any signs of giving up the information she wanted from him.
Notorious criminal was a basic definition of his character. He and his posse of “colleagues” had been tied to four different chemical warfare incidents in the last several months. “Colleagues” was a term that he so leisurely used, but she hardly considered them to be friendly co-workers.
He and his crew had designed and created a chemical weapon that had been used in these chemical attacks over the course of the last several months. They had only just now caught up to him, because he was just as good as staying under the radar as he was making his mark.
Word was that they had sent a “special shipment” of this lab-made weapon to an official location, but the destination was unknown – hence why Peach had been grilling him for half the night at this point. They needed to find the shipment and intercept it before it reached where it was intended to go. A mass exposure to this chemical weapon could mean a lot of damage and fatalities.
Time wasn’t on her side, and he was stalling and wasting as much of it as he could.
She was the best interrogator of the team. Each member had their own strengths when it came to squeezing answers out of a person of interest.
Soap had a certain way with words that could cause the subject to unintentionally give up information. Gaz was cool and convincing, and Price had a temper on him that could shake up pretty much anyone. Ghost was just plain scary – he could merely walk in the room and some people would fold immediately.
But Peach had a little bit of it all. She was convincing and smooth, but could also turn angry and loud. She had it down to a science, but this was her hardest attempt yet.
Usually she slapped them around a little bit. It sped up the process and you wouldn’t believe the people that caved just because they didn’t want to be beat up by such a sweet-looking woman. Other times though, it slowed everything down. It was a risk that usually had to be weighed once she was in the middle of things and had scoped it out.
But Price had given her once simple command before she began her interrogation.
“Whatever you do, don’t lay a finger on him.”
She had whined and protested, begging her Captain to give her the freedom to get her hands bloody if she needed it. It wasn’t like she ever really hurt anybody that bad. She could control herself much more than if Price went in there and put his hands on the guy.
Still, John feared that if she used her knuckles instead of her head, then they’d never get anything out of him.
Right now she was trying the convincing approach, although she wasn’t getting anywhere. In the last several hours, she had probably asked him what felt like about 100 questions, and he hadn’t answered a single one. He dodged every question and demand and brushed off every insult, threat, and comment.
She circled him for what had to have been the millionth time. She was sick of looking at his face, and she could only imagine he was tired of seeing her too.
“That shipment must be goin’ somewhere real important if you’re this tight lipped about it,” She persuaded, her hands shoving into the pockets of her cargo pants. “Must be headed for someone mighty special.”
There had been a few times where she was positive that he was about to give something up, but then he’d catch himself and change the subject completely.
“That accent…” He rumbled, and she didn’t even bother resisting to roll her eyes. “You’re a long way from home, huh?”
She could only describe his voice as snakelike. It had a certain pitch to it, and all of his “S” sounds were drawn out like a hiss.
A few times, she entertained his counter questions. If it brought her closer to getting something out of him, then she didn’t mind giving up some personal information of her own. It was a fair trade off, if you will.
“Haven’t been home in a long time,” She answered. “I can’t seem to ditch the accent.”
“I’d say it suits you.” He shrugged.
This had been the cycle the entire time. She would ask a question and he would change the subject. She was beyond frustrated because nothing was working.
The room that they were in was stuffy. The air was warm, thick, and it felt like she was breathing soup with every inhale she took. Beads of sweat lined her forehead and dripped down the middle of her back, despite the fact that she had stripped down to a tank and her most comfortable set of pants.
The room was straight out of a movie. Concrete floors, cinder block walls, and there was hardly any real light coming from the singular LED overhead. Based on how it flickered and flashed, it was clear that it had been quite some time since the bulb had been changed.
There was a singular window that offered observation inside, and it connected the adjacent room. The glass was tinted from the inside, so the eyes that were inside, couldn’t see outside.
Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap had been watching this whole time from the opposite side, and they were growing more discouraged by the minute.
“She’s not getting anywhere, Captain. He’s barely said anything useful.” Ghost remarked, who was saying what everyone else was thinking.
Price sighed. They could only do this for so long before they would just be wasting precious time on a dead end. Price didn’t want to pull her out because that was giving up in her mind. But he couldn’t stand to watch her keep doing this.
While she was hiding it well, he knew she was as distressed as could be on the inside. He had seen her in her more visible moments of stress and anxiety, and he knew she was close to the beginning of a breakdown.
“Let’s give her another half hour,” Price advised. “Maybe she can turn this around.”
They were all tired. It had been a long day and now they were already well into an even longer night. They needed as much rest as they could possibly get before coming up with a new plan and starting over. They didn’t have enough time to try and do this again.
It turned out that Price’s extra thirty minutes had dwindled down to about two minutes.
“This is gonna go a whole lot easier if you just tell me now,” Her voice lowered, her tone smooth and dark. “Where’s the shipment bein’ sent to?”
Of course, he wasn’t going to answer that. She was mean and she was tough, but he had spent years perfecting keeping his cool under this kind of pressure.
“That Captain of yours has it bad for you, doesn’t he?”
A thunderclap of dread cracked in Price’s chest and vibrated to the rest of his body. If there was one way to set her off, it was to bring him into it. She didn’t totally lose it right away, but he could tell just by looking at her that she was close by that comment alone.
John knew better than to look at Soap, Ghost or Gaz, but he knew they were watching him like a hawk. They were waiting for a reaction, but they surely weren’t going to get one.
“Not a word.” Price instructed, still staring ahead through the dirty glass.
They all jumped, quickly looking in different directions as if they hadn’t been waiting for some kind of tell that this guy was getting under his skin.
It wasn’t necessarily a secret that Peach and Price had been seeing each other. They weren’t really trying to hide it, but they also weren’t going out of their way to share it publicly. Ghost, Gaz, and Soap were curious, but too afraid to ask. They were entitled to privacy, but it didn’t stop them from being nosy.
“What makes you say that?” She dared to ask through almost bared teeth.
“It’s in his eyes. He doesn’t look at his men the way he looks at you,” He said. “How long has that been going on?”
“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.” She growled, and her pupils were expanded the way they were every time she was heated.
This wasn’t going anywhere good. The second she laid hands on him, this entire thing was going to be blown.
“She’s gettin’ angry, Captain.” Soap advised, which was more of a warning than anything.
“Not yet.” Price held up a hand, giving her up until the last possible second to get something.
She remembered John’s words. It was imperative to find out where the chemical weapon was going. There was no telling what they were planning to do with it and what kind of mass effect it would have. She couldn’t be the one to jeopardize that. She knew that entertaining his nagging questions would only make things worse.
“Where’s the shipment going?” She asked one final time.
He leaned forward as much as the restraints would allow, his words rolling off in his most sinister tone.
“Fuck you.”
Shit.
Price saw the fire explode in her eyes, and he knew to react before she had a chance to.
“Ghost. Get her.” Price ordered immediately.
Ghost was swift on his feet, entering the room and snatching Peach up before she even had a chance to do or say anything else. He hoisted her off the ground, ignoring her wriggling and shrills of protest. A blast of cold air hit her when he carried her back into the next room, which was barely helpful to her boiling blood.
Ghost wrestled to set her back on her feet, but kept a strong arm around her to fight her attempts to get back in the other room. She shrieked and pleaded for Ghost to let her go, and the good Captain only stepped in when Soap and Gaz had to assist Ghost in holding her down.
“That’s enough,” Price barked. “We’re done here.”
She ripped herself from Ghost’s hold at the sound of John’s voice, giving him a look so cold that it sent a shudder down his spine. Her anger was now laser focused on Captain Price, who wasn’t looking forward to the argument that was undoubtedly about to unfold.
“Let me at him, John, he’s gotta give in sometime.” She hissed, strands of her hair sticking to her damp forehead and the back of her neck.
He didn’t want to fight. He hated fighting with her. He especially didn’t want to get into a squabble with her in front of the rest of the team. But right now, he needed to be her captain first. This was her captain speaking, not her lover.
This was one of those moments where it was unexplainably hard to be both.
He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her that she was doing everything that she could. He could praise her for her determination and hard work. At the same time, he couldn’t just sit and watch her work herself to death, especially for no reward. There was much more at stake, and her pride getting a little damaged was better than wasting all of her time trying to crack this nut.
He grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the door in case she tried to force her way back inside.
“You’re done for the night,” John commanded. “You’re not getting anywhere with him.”
Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were standing aside, watching and listening without saying a word. It wasn’t often that Peach and Price got into it like this. But when they did, they knew not to interject or intervene.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” She stood in front of him, her eyes squinted and jaw clenched as her accent drew thicker.
Fire was burning in her eyes. The outline of the vein in her forehead was showing under her skin as her cheeks grew hotter with each passing second.
He knew that she would take that the wrong way. He wasn’t insulting her attempt or her work, but she surely took it that way. She was tired from being up so long, irritated by the suspect’s behavior, and disappointed that all of this was for nothing.
But at the moment, that wasn’t Price’s understanding of the situation. All he knew was that she was angry and questioning his judgment in front of his team, and he had to match her tone.
“It means that this is a waste of time,” His voice grew louder, cheeks burning red. “We can’t afford any more dead ends.”
“And what do you suppose that I do in the meantime?” She challenged him, something she rarely ever did.
“You need to take a break. Get some rest. We’ll reconvene in the morning,” John barked. “That’s an order.”
She didn’t like that at all. She was determined to keep at this until she physically couldn’t anymore. This was just too important to give up on now. She shook her head in disbelief, a mixture of fury and disappointment causing her to be so vicious.
She could stand here and argue with him for the rest of the night, but if there was anything that she knew would be a waste of time, it was arguing with John Price.
“Yes, Captain.” She hissed, those two simple words dripping with venom as she pushed past him.
He sighed as she stalked out of the room, no doubt going to find the furthest place to get some sleep. Price knew better than that though. She would be up the rest of the night stewing over this, prematurely blaming herself for something that hadn’t happened yet.
He was already feeling guilty for his reaction. He knew better than to blow up at anyone like that…especially her. He was tired, she was tired, everybody was tired. His emotions in a state of exhaustion and irritability had gotten the best of him.
He knew what he needed to do – cool off and go fix this.
Ghost was the first one to speak up when he realized they really were finished for the night.
“What about him?” Ghost asked, tilting his head to reference the terrorist that was still tied down.
“Leave him. He’s not going anywhere.”
That was Price’s way of telling him that he wasn’t in the mood to deal with a criminal right now. That was also Price’s way of telling the three of them that they could do whatever they pleased with him at this point. Price didn’t ask any questions about what they intended to do with him. He didn’t need to know, and he trusted that they would leave him intact enough so he would see his day in the clink.
Price had other matters to tend to. A clammed up suspect wasn’t worth his time. Everybody needed to regroup and come up with a new strategy when the new day came around.
Rest, reconcile, and regroup. That was his to-do list. He emphasized the second one, but cooling off needed to come first.
He left Ghost, Soap, and Gaz to their own devices, trudging off to find a quiet place to collect himself.
***
If there was one place that Price always knew where to look for her, it was the infirmary.
She was the only one of the team that was trained and qualified enough to effectively utilize the space. Most people avoided it, considering the times that they were there were usually because they were injured or coming down with something. Needless to say that, other than her, it wasn’t likely to catch anybody hanging around there for fun.
She excelled there. It was her main place of work and where her skills were most useful and appreciated. She was talented in many other ways, but her medical knowledge was just so precious and priceless. The force could scrape by without having someone who was perfectly trained in combat or computer hacking. But without a medic? Success was highly unlikely.
The infirmary was where she felt the most useful. She felt almost…safe there.
He knew that’s where she would be. She was probably standing at one of the cabinets, taking all of its contents out and organizing them back inside again.
It was a meaningless task, just something to occupy her hands while her brain circled around itself. She would do this over and over until every corner of every box was flawlessly lined up and every label on every bottle was centered with the front of the cabinet. It was just to distract herself, and an attempt to keep her real feelings at bay.
Not to mention, she was unbelievably angry with her captain.
John knew that she wasn’t going to be thrilled to see him. He prepared himself for another fight as he navigated his way to the infirmary. She would never yell or scream at him, but her voice always turned ice cold and stern when she was upset. He found that to be worse. He’d rather her scream in his face – that way he’d have no question about how she was feeling.
She also wasn’t one to talk about things right away. She liked time to simmer on it and at least cool off a little before talking it out. He had waited around 45 minutes before seeking her out. 45 minutes was all he could stand. The anxiety and anticipation of knowing she was alone and seething to herself was unbearable for him.
While he was desperate to get this resolved, he also had to stand firm in his decision to pull her out of the interrogation. It might’ve upset her as his girlfriend, but it was the right move as her captain. He could acknowledge her disapproval while also defending his decision.
He turned a corner and immediately noticed a glow of light coming from the open doorway of the infirmary. He could feel the energy from here. She certainly wasn’t in the best mood.
Nonetheless, he would rather have a conversation than move on without discussing it.
Sure enough, there she was – facing the cabinet on the back wall, lining up boxes of gauze pads and organizing bottles of disinfectant. He could practically see the steam hissing out of her ears, like her head would blow off of her shoulders at any moment.
He leaned against the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets and his feet crossed over one another. She was oblivious to him standing there, another sign that her focus was elsewhere. He took a calming breath to recenter himself before he made himself known.
“Hey, Peach.” He kept a neutral tone.
Her shoulders squared and straightened at the sound of his voice. She wasn’t expecting to see him again tonight, not after that little fallout they just had.
Her hands had paused on the box of gauze in her hands, her eyes trained on the print on the cardboard cover.
“Captain.” She said.
He ignored the sting in his chest and the annoyance that came from her not using his name. This was one of those times where he was here both as a boss and as a boyfriend. Those moments were pretty rare, and he very much preferred being one or the other.
“I thought I told you to take a break.” He said coolly, more as small talk than anything.
“Not tired,” She half-lied. She was tired, but wouldn’t have been able to sleep though. “Where are the boys?”
He couldn’t help but grin to himself. She always referred to Ghost, Soap, and Gaz as “the boys” like they were her kids. It was ironic because she was younger than both Soap and Ghost, but somehow all of them saw her as motherly at certain times.
“Soap and Gaz hit the sack,” He said. “I think Ghost is dealing with our perpetrator.”
Price reached into the inside of his jacket, locating the pack of cigarettes that he stashed there. After today, he needed something to take the edge off. He slid a cigarette from the pack, settling it between his lips while he fished around in his pants pocket for his lighter.
“Guess he was better for the job then?” She grumbled, her back still towards him. “And don’t you dare light that cigarette.”
Price’s thumb had just set on the spark wheel with not even enough time to push it down to ignite the butane inside. She was always on him about his smoking habit. He knew all the health risks and concerns that came from smoking (she had explained them to him many times), but never were they enough to motivate him to kick his habit completely.
Nonetheless, he placed the cigarette back into the pack and stored them with his lighter for safekeeping.
“It had nothing to do with that. You were just as suited and prepared for it.” He answered.
I guess we’re getting right into it then. He thought to himself.
“Then why’d you pull me out?” She set the box in the cabinet and closed the door.
Her tone wasn’t as firm now, but it still had a certain chill to it.
“It was all part of his plan. He was going to wear you out until we were out of time.” He remarked.
She shook her head, an incredulous smile spreading across her features. She finally turned to him, her eyes meeting his from across the room. He had calmed down much more than she had, but she didn’t look like she was close to combusting anymore.
“You have absolutely zero faith in me.” She said.
His stance changed, his legs straightening out as he fully entered the room.
“Come on, Peaches. You know it isn’t that,” He pleaded. “We’re running out of time. I couldn’t risk using it all on a dead end suspect.”
He was closer to her now. He could read her better if he was close.
“If it had been Soap, you wouldn’t have pulled him out.” She grumbled.
“That’s not true,” He became more determined, but his voice remained normal. “I was looking out for you and for the best interest of this team.”
Her pupils dilated, a quick surge of vexation flashing over her irises.
“I’m not soft, John. I don’t need you takin’ care of me.” She huffed.
At least we’re back to first names.
“I know that. I’ve never thought of you as anything other than independent and perfectly capable. And I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise,” He defended. “But I’m your captain. It’s my job to keep this team safe and in line. That includes you.”
She almost rolled her eyes. How could he act like she didn’t already know that? She had a response ready, but he went on before she could say it.
“I made a judgment call because I was worried about you, and I saw that what he was doing was sabotaging what we’re trying to do,” He proclaimed. “You have the right to be upset over it, but it was the best call. I would’ve made the same choice no matter what. It just so happened that there was a little more emotion involved.”
It wasn’t always easy being both her captain and her lover. As he had said before, it presented some unique challenges that could only be dealt with as they happened. It was only when the two sides blended that things could get tricky.
It wasn’t always easy for her either. Over time, she had learned to know when to treat him as a respected captain and when to love up on him as her romantic partner. She just had to understand that there were going to be times where his care for her was going to overlap with how he treated her professionally.
And in all honesty, she knew deep down that he hadn’t dragged her out because he didn’t think she could do it. If he thought that she wasn’t capable, he never would’ve let her do it in the first place.
“It’s just…” She sighed, a much more serene look glossing over her eyes. “He got the best of me.”
She didn’t lose her temper often. If anything, it was more likely for John to flip his lid. But the stakes were high, the pressure was on, and time was running out…it made sense that an uncooperative criminal pushed her over the edge.
“I know. It’s alright,” He pushed a set of stray hairs from her eyes. “I didn’t want you getting all worked up over it. I need you to have a clear head so we can get this figured out.”
She felt ashamed for lashing out. She was better than losing her composure and confidence over some low life criminal.
She felt remorse for getting in John’s face and nearly cursing him out in front of his team. Her reaction had been uncalled for, and she felt guilty.
“I’m sorry, Captain.” She apologized, the last of the flames in her eyes smothering out completely.
“Oh, come on now, darling,” He took her chin gently between his thumb and index finger, tilting her head forward to press his lips to her forehead. “I’m just glad you didn’t try to kill him.”
“I would’ve if you had let me.” She gave a small smile.
He chuckled at that, wrapping one of his arms around her waist.
“I know,” He pressed another kiss to her head. “I find the thought of you killing an international terrorist rather sexy.”
“Is that so?” Her smile grew wider. “Only problem with that is I’ll lose my job if I get caught killin’ him without probable cause. And I like my job.”
“You would never get caught,” He scoffed. “You’re stealthy.”
His arm unwrapped from her waist, his hands coming to gently grip her biceps. He kissed her properly then, his facial hair tickling her skin as she hummed into the kiss. All was well between them. This was hardly any real bump in the road for them. A minor hiccup, at most.
Price could forgive and forget a little outburst on a terrorist. He would be more concerned if she hadn’t cared so much about this mission.
“How about you get some sleep?” He said when she broke the kiss. “We need to get started as soon as the sun comes up.”
Price’s eyes suddenly started scanning the room, as if he were looking for something.
“Sure. I’ll finish packin’ the cabinet and I’ll hit the hay,” She smirked, following his eyes. “My medic bag is in that closet. Suckers are in the front pocket. I just restocked the cherry ones.”
A grin spread on his face when he dashed towards the closet that she pointed to. He had a theory that she kept lollipops around not only for people after being treated, but also to keep him from smoking so much. It didn’t really work, but he still appreciated the gesture.
He stuck around until she was finished, escorting her out of the infirmary and to a decent place to get some rest. He made sure she was comfortable before he turned in for the night as well, but not before finishing his candy treat.
Although, the lollipop was nothing compared to the relief he felt from making things right.
He felt confident that the answers the team was looking for would be found. And her confidence would return when this was all over and dealt with. She would be successful once more.
And he believed that both as her captain and her lover.
#john price#john price x reader#john price x fem! reader#john price x female reader#john price x 'peach'#john price x you#john price x y/n#john price angst#john price oneshot#john price one shot#john price oneshots#john price one shots#john price imagine#john price imagines#john price fanfiction#cod mw2#MW2#mw2 fanfiction#ghostandsoap
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Spidersonas are the perfect exercise and I recommend everyone try -
Quick-Spidersona Exercises
How I use new Spidersonas as Artistic Practice
[A MEDIUM length post where I share ideas and exercises to create Spidersonas quicker and easier, while practicing your writing/art]
Spidersonas can be a great tool for any artist!
If you're a writer looking for a way to get better at character creation, research, and world-building - Or an artist looking for a way to get better at character design:
Consider trying out Quick Spidersona exercises as a fun way to do that! I use them all the time, because seriously, who says you can only have ONE Spidersona?
(I think I have at least 15-20 now - counting the eight named kids I gave Miguel & Moche)
I usual end up making at least one a week - and I find they're amazing for learning how to make characters quickly and in a really fun way.
Everything can be canon in the Spider-verse, including a sentient piece of Lego-Plastic and a Pre-historic Spider-saur.
Plus, with the Spider-Society being full formed, and canon events at your choosing, you have a loose template for a background - making it easier to throw them into the story.
I use a couple different exercises on making Fast-Sonas, and I thought I'd share some.
Here's a couple of my favorites! If you find this helpful, let me know!
1 - Hour Sona Challenge
Ever have a half-baked Spidersona Idea or come up with a funny crack Spider?
Give yourself an hour (or two) and go at it.
[This challenge is good for quick practice, Character Creation & Design]
Design them a suit as quick as you can, coming up with abilities and a rough personality.
You don't need to go into backstory if you don't feel like it, and it's a great way to get started
This is something you can do routinely - I do, I usually do this once or twice a week; And soon you'll have a full cast of sonas that can interact with each other!
It's great practice, and the more you do it, the easier it gets.
When you're doing it on the fly, or know it's just one hour - it can produce characters that are more natural, because you don't have time to second guess. Plus, since it's only an hour, you can get as silly as you want!
Stoner-Spider is an example of a 2-hour Sona Challenge.
Adapt-A-Spider
This challenge is good for Character Design
Make your own cross over!
For something a bit easier - Take a Non-Spider character and make them a Spider-person.
This could be anyone, from other Marvel characters, to Disney Princesses, Celebrities, and characters from your other fandoms. You can even make some of your old OCs into Spider-people!
For Artists - this can be a real fun challenge - try and blend the characters original outfit and design into a suit suitable for swinging.
For Writers - try to adapt their current background, and shift it around so they have 'canon events'. If the character you like has lost someone, the person they lost could stand in for their Uncle Ben or Aunt May.
Example: If you're looking to adapt Ellie from The Last of Us, losing Joel could be her Uncle Ben canon event.
This works for every character (basically). What if Black Widow ACTUALLY got bit by a black widow? Now Nat Romanoff is on campus. (Every Peter thinks she's an MJ cause the red hair at first).
No matter how ridiculous, you can stretch it. In Spiderverse, everyone is Canon.
If they can write a SpiderCar - you can write ANYTHING.
Some ideas are:
Celebrities, Animals (like SpiderCat or the Dinosaur), Princesses, Greek Gods, Historical Figures, Fandom Characters,
Mundane Spider
This challenge is good for: Character Building & Design
Not everyone is extraordinary. SOMEONE has to flip those McMiguel burgers goddamn it.
If making a huge story and traumatic canon events send daunting - just... Don't do it. Challenge yourself to make a Spidersona that's literally just a person.
Like a Target employee who got bit by a spider that came out a shipment. And now they have to work at the Society AND target. They wear the Target polo over their suit.
Pick a normal type of person, and challenge yourself to make them super.
Maybe a stay at home mom that got bit by a house spider, or a college student that got bit at the library. Any one could be a Spider-person! So don't worry that they're 'boring'.
Ideas for this:
A person based on your town/city, Random Professions, Teachers, Therapists, People based on hobbies you like to do (ex: Margo is eSports. SpiderCanada is hockey based),
History Spider
[This is good for Research]
History Buffs WHERE U AT?????
If you love a period of history - GO ALL IN.
Take the SpiderNoir and Hobie route.
If your Spidersona was from Ancient Egypt, what would they wear? If you really like the Medieval Era, would their city want to burn them at the stake?
For Artists - What would they wear? And how would the fashion trends of their time period effect their suits?
For Writers - What would be their real name, if it were time period accurate? How would they act and speak? Consider how they would adjust to things like 2099, and how their time period would effect their fighting style.
Culture Spider
If you're from a interesting culture or place, make a Sona for that!
[This is another great one for Research, as well as Character Design too]
I've seen it all, from my own IncaSpider, to Korean Spider-people and Romanian Spider-people.
For Artists - It's REALLY fun adapting traditional dress and colors into a Spider-suit, and you may even find yourself falling down a research hole.
For Writers - This can go DEEP. You can pick any time period of your culture and home. Things like their accent, their behaviors and traditions, and their backstory can all be reflections of your culture.
With HUNDREDS of years is material to pull from, using Culture as a back drop for a Spider can help them seem deep and natural. Plus, you can just Google clothing and use that as suit inspo
Ben Reilly - Mary Sue Spider
Arguably my FAVORITE. Not for the faint of heart.
[This is the best for everything - Literal SELF CARE I MEAN THAT]
BE CRINGE. DO IT ON PURPOSE.
Write a character that's super strong and effortless about it. Pavi is. And he's still a great character.
Write a character who ALWAYS looks kick ass and rides a cool motorcycle or plays a rad guitar - Jess and Hobie are literally THAT.
Want your character to be big and super smart with deep trauma that haunts them? - Ben Reilly and Miguel. The three of them can be a trio.
Challenge yourself to make the COOLEST MOST FLAWLESS DRAMATIC SONA YOU CAN.
Every time you draw something or write something that makes you cringe, or feels to OP or too much.
Good. Leave it in. Turn it up to 11.
Go all out. Draw your Instagram dream outfit. If you want your Sona in 12 inch heels - have at it!
'Oh but that's impractical and stup-'
They're literally a Super-Human. If Gwen can catch a helicopter like that, I think a Spidersona can manage stripper heels or Final Fantasy Hair.
What's the worst that can happen? You're doing it on purpose.
At the best, you'll make someone REALLY REALLY rad - like Hobie.
At the least, you'll make someone REALLY REALLY funny - like Ben Reilly.
Disco-Spider Diane is an example of this. She was probably supposed to be a completely self-indulgent, unhinged Sona.
So much so that she thinks she's perfect, even though she's a little bit naive, lazy, and in her own world. But because she doesn't care.. it's all good :)
No Logic Whatsoever Spider
[This one is just funny. Great one for Character Design and getting out of your comfort zone.]
Spider-Ham, Spider-Car, Spider Cat, LegoSpider, Spiderplush and SpiderPopsicle all have a club. The No Logic Whatsoever Club.
Challenge yourself to make a new member.
Break all the laws of logic. If something can be Spiderman, then it is or duty to make it so.
What's your favorite animal? Make that.
Can they put on the suit themselves? No? Who cares they're a Spiderperson-thing now.
Is there a funny art style you like - make a Bendy's style 1930's black and white silent cartoon.
For Artists - This is a great one. It can be as simple as drawing Spider-man merch and making it sentient. Or as bizarre as drawing a Dinosaur in a Spider-man costume.
For Writers - HARD MODE. For pure crack fanatics. Enjoy trying to make logic of this. Or don't. They are what they are.
----------------------------
So here are just some exercises and ideas for those looking to strengthen their writing/art skills with Spidersonas.
They can be really quick to make, and you can always build on them over time, do a '1hr Sona Update' Challenge, run them through canon events and see them change.
Having multiple spidersonas can be fun, make writing easier, and it's great practice that translates everywhere - into world building, character design, research, and a lot of other creative skills.
Literally theres no need for just one! The Spiderverse is open to any Sona, no matter how bizarre, mundane, or self-indulgent!!
If this gave you and ideas or inspiration, let me know. If you try a challenge, I'd love to see too!
And as per usual if you've read this far: Here take this as a token of my gratitude
Go forth, create, and kill cringe with your bare hands. Smash it into a moving train. That usually does the trick.
Bye.
#got a couple asks about writing advice lately so I wanted to start here first hi hello :)#nooo proofread lol#spiderman#spider man#atsv#across the spiderverse#spidersonas#spidersona#ocs#spiderman oc#writing practice#marvel#across the spider verse#spider society#spiderman atsv
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Jungkook
𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Hide Me
Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything. And yet, maybe it's not as bad as you thought.
Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, injury, medical things such as needles, mentions of potential murder
Length: ~2k words
A/N: T H E R E I S N O T A G L I S T-
-> Masterlist
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
Okay, your plan might not work the way you'd hoped after all.
You'd wanted to just get away from earth for a while now- with the intergalactic union basically punishing the whole human race for ruining planet earth, by taking away any humans from leading positions in the government, and by entirely changing the law system across the globe.
But down the line, money seems to be enticing even for people from outer space- and so the humans with the most of it had stayed in their roles, corrupting the system even more these days.
You don't want to be here to watch everything inevitably crumble.
What you didn't really plan for had been the drunk guy robbing you just half an hour before you were supposed to go to the port where the interstellar cargo ships would soon get ready to fly out to other planets to trade produce and other food products. But really, you can't pay much attention to your own injury, because otherwise you'll miss your chance entirely.
And considering they only fly out once every two to three months, you really don't wanna miss this.
So you go through with your plan despite your blurry mind- hunger and your injury by now having definitely made things more and more difficult to handle. You mostly trust into your instincts at the moment, unsure if you could really pay attention to anything out of the ordinary in order to check your plan- but maybe you should've.
Because now that the heavy steel doors close, and the ship starts to rumble, engines starting, you realize that your environment isn't what you'd expected to find as you lift the heavy tarp from over your head a little.
It doesn't make sense.
The interior, now that you look at it, looks nothing like the cargo ship from Heza that you had been supposed to be boarding. There's also been almost no security, no other staff around, no guards or even workers seen anywhere.
Everything is metal, a bit bent and busted here and there but still good and well taken care of. The model of the ship must be the same as the one from Heza -
But this is absolutely not the ship you thought you were sneaking into.
This is bad.
It's the worst, in fact, considering your still throbbing and probably bleeding wound, which had also not been part of the plan. The shaking of the ship finally subsides, a calm buzz and steady vibrations instead filling the space, your ears feeling strangely pressurized, something that subsides after moving your jaw a little. You know what this must mean.
You're no longer on earth.
Well, this is a problem now. You don't know where the hell this person is traveling to, let alone who owns the ship in the first place. For all you know, it could have no pilot at all, flying on pure autopilot which would at least make you feel a bit easier knowing that only actual cargo ships fly predetermined routes like that.
You feel like you're gonna throw up. Your stomach is so empty that your throat is closing up, or at least that's what it feels like. And considering this isn't a Heza ship, there will probably be nothing edible here at all.
And suddenly, there's a rumbling noise, metal scraping on the floor as the pressurized doors open, causing you to hide under the thick plastic coverings again, hoping, praying no one finds you. Boots click on the floor, and you hear chains hitting each other in high pitched noises, leather squeaking a bit and then-
You hear plastic being lifted. Whoever is currently here is aware that you're not supposed to be here. That something's off, not quite right. They're searching for something.
Someone.
You hold your breath as if that's gonna help you at all, but you know it won't. The steps echo closer, closer, closer, plastic tarp being lifted and placed back over and over again around you. And suddenly, the tarp you're underneath lifts as well, and you're sure you're visibly shaking, especially when something cold hits the back of your head.
A gun, for sure.
"You got one try." A male voice states, the click of the gun heard and felt against your scalp and oh God, you're gonna pass out, either from blood loss, hunger, or the fact that there's someone pointing a fucking gun at you-
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you through the airlock right now."
Well, fuck.
You think hard, unsure what to really tell him- you don't even know if he's human or not, can't catch a glimpse of him considering he'll probably shoot you right away if you were to try, so you can't adjust your answer according to his race either. So, really, what do you have to lose now?
You're probably going to die either way- so why not just throw out your honest intentions.
"I'm trying to escape earth." You simply say, voice trembling as it's hardly loud enough to reach him properly.
"Why?" He presses on, leather moving again with distinctive noise as he squats down, gun still against the back of your head. "Are you a criminal?" He asks, and you shake your head.
"No." You answer. "Just.. over it." You shrug, tumbling forwards a little as you lose your balance for a second, brain becoming dizzy.
"Give me your name." He demands. "I will try and verify your information myself." The man says, and you laugh to yourself.
"Well, too bad." You chuckle. "I don't have a name. Got a number though, if you want it?" You slur by now, growing increasingly nauseous as your body seems to be hot one second and icy cold another. It seems as if he's noticing your state by now as well, hands moving your arm upwards as he inspects the blood staining your shirt by now.
"How did that happen?" He asks, and you try and explain- but there's no thought properly formed anymore. "Hah..., weak things." He mumbles to himself as he lets you fall forward onto your side, unable to sit upright any longer. He isn't very gentle as he lifts you up, over his shoulder to carry you out the cargo area of his ship and down several hallways like nothing but a sack of potatoes, into a room that looks awfully sterile and small. You're barely conscious, really, as you only somewhat feel him lay you down somewhere.
Everything between that, and now, as you wake up with a feeling of sudden panic, is just not there.
Your wrist is bound to the metal frame of the simple bedframe in the sterile, small room, machines beeping and occasionally making other noises as a voice rings out through a speaker, a sound echoing to signal an announcement. "Don't think your weak body will make me overlook the fact that you're a stowaway that illegally entered my ship." His voice echoes through the room. "You've broken human laws, and I'm required by the intergalactic union to report your crimes." He says, and you flop down onto the bed at that, a hand on your face desperately trying to hide your tears. That's even worse than getting shot through the airlock.
So you act out of panic, sitting up to rip out the IV line from your arm. "Hey- stop that!" He barks through the intercom, but you don't listen, as you try to squeeze and wiggle your hand out of the handcuffs bound to the bed, tugging on other sensors connected to your body, uncaring of the harsh sting and slight blood you're drawing.
It's when the only door of the room opens, and the man walks in, boots heavy on the floor as he leans one knee on the bed, grabbing your wrists that you're forced to stop your little panic attack. "Stop that." He growls, looking at you with both annoyance and anger as he watches you. "What in canis major is fucking wrong with you?" He scoffs, a low, clicking like sound in the back of his throat as his eyes glow an angry red.
"Throw me out the airlock then." You ask, frustrated tears brimming in your eyes as you look at him. "Shoot me in the head, I don't care." You tell him.
"Death won't lift your crimes, human." He tells you lowly. "You should've considered the consequences prior to your actions." The young man says.
"Hah, as if I didn't do that!" You bark at his face, and he leans back at that, eyes shifting slowly from their deep red to a more orange hue. "I'm not going back to earth. At least not alive." You say with a final tone to your voice, and at that he gets up, sighs, his eyes a pale yellow-ish brown as he opens them again to move around, and pick up the IV you'd tugged out from your arm, discarding the used needle before he moves to get a new, packaged one.
"How did you loose your name?" He asks, as he walks around, prepares the IV again it seems like, while you sit on the bed, legs tucked in closely. "I've looked up the number inked on your wrist. What you said about your identity seems to be true- but there's always a reason why humans loose their names, and yet there was no criminal record attached to you." He explains, and you shrug.
"Just.." You shrug again, glaring at him a bit as he rather roughly tugs your hand away from your knees, turning your forearm to locate a vein again. "Not worth it, I guess. I'm not trained in any field that's considered valuable, and I'm also not very smart- so I lost my name when I turned twenty-one because I'm not valuable enough." You say.
"That doesn't make any sense." He furrows his brows as he places the IV back in with not much regard to you hissing when he pishes the needle into your skin, securing it with medical tape before he adjusts the machines and sensors again.
"Yeah well, a lot of things don't make sense on earth." You mumble as you watch him, hissing a bit when he tugs on your skin too roughly as he checks the large plaster covering your stab wound.
"Stay here now, and stop being ungrateful for my care while I go over some things." He says, and you tug on the handcuffs a bit, as if to remind him. "What?" He asks.
"Are you.. not taking those off?" You wonder, and he seems almost amused as he looks at you with a slightly pinkish undertone in his eyes.
"No." He simply answers, door opening with a hiss of the hydraulics. "Wouldn't want you to get too comfortable here, after all."
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#bts jeon jungkook x reader#bts jeon jungkook imagine#bts jungkook x reader#bts jungkook fanfic#bts jungkook imagine
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omg jade!! this just popped into my head but do u think u could write smth ab roan gettin a tinyyyy bit jealous when reader gives attention to another kid? pls feel free to ignore if u dont like it hehe j smth i thought ab! ily!!
this request is from october I'm so sorry it took this long, thank you for requesting, ily ♥︎ fem!reader
Eddie’s friend Gareth has two kids.
Twin boys, they hang off of him one to each arm and might be the cutest kids you’ve ever seen that aren’t Roan. One is much, much cuddlier than the other, and when he climbs into your lap you really, honestly can’t say no. He’s practically a baby still, two and half years old and chatty without real words.
When he strokes your face with your hand, you look over his little head at Eddie where he’s sitting at the same picnic table and pout at him.
“You want one?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
You rub the back of the baby’s head, hand stroking over fine, sandy brown hair. “Stop it.”
It’s a very cheeky joke considering you and Eddie haven’t been together that long. And besides, you think he might have his work cut out for him with his own baby girl, he doesn’t need another right now.
Said baby girl has taken to holding your hand basically everywhere you go. You adore Roan and if she wants to hold your hand whenever she sees you, it’s an improvement from her wanting to always be carried. She’d been holding your hand five minutes ago before she proclaimed her need to pee.
She emerges from the house and into the garden with her little hands dripping and Eddie beckons her over. You can hear their hushed conversation as he wipes her hands dry with his t-shirt.
“Did you flush?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah, daddy.”
“Did you wipe the right way?”
She looks a little embarrassed, and then that embarrassment gets eaten by Munson rage. “Yeah, dad.”
Eddie only laughs. “Okay, alright. Thanks, mini me. Kiss for a job well done?”
Roan gives him a quick kiss and then throws her gaze to you. You watch what looks to be excitement shrivel up and dissolve into dust, her eyes widened and then pinched with hurt.
“What’s the matter, baby?” you ask, hand splayed over the small back of your newfound charge.
She doesn’t talk to you. Roan turns on her heel and climbs straight into Eddie’s lap, small thighs either side of his waist and face falling into his t-shirt. He’s as confused as you are, dropping his face down closer to hers and murmuring something too quiet to hear. Her tiny black bunches bounce as she shakes her head.
He tucks a loose curl behind her ear. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he says gently.
Roan pushes her face deeper into his chest and sighs.
You’re at that stage of knowing and loving Roan where all of her upsets still feel huge to you. Eddie, having experienced her change in emotion every single day of her life, is much less affected. Not any less loving, or any less caring, but he doesn’t get so stressed. He pats her little back for what’s left of his friends garden party, and you say goodbye to your clinger when it’s time for their nap.
“Let’s go home, should we?” Eddie asks gently, forehead tapped against Roan’s.
She grumbles irritably and Eddie picks her up, her face quickly hidden in his neck. When all the goodbyes have been exchanged you follow him back to his car, nibbling your lip intermittently. Roan isn’t prone to being quiet like this unless she’s sick or tired, and it’s hours from bedtime, so she has to be sick.
"She's not warm," Eddie tells you.
"Do you feel sick?" you ask her anyways, not because you don't believe Eddie's capabilities as a dad, but for your own peace of mind — you don't like worrying about Roan. It gnaws at you.
She doesn't speak to you. In fact, she doesn't speak to you for hours. Not when you get home, not at the dinner table, and not during cartoons before bed. She doesn't hug you goodnight, and that's when Eddie gives a knowing, amused snort.
"What?" you ask, pulling your gaze from her retreating back to him. "What's funny? Your baby doesn't like me anymore, this is the opposite of funny."
"She's just jealous." You scoot away from him. He pulls you back in with an eye roll. "Not of me, dork. Of Henry."
You blink. "Gareth's kid?"
"Yes." His head lolls lazily to the side, and his smile is more a smirk than anything else. "Come on, sweet thing. Use your brain."
You would glare at him if the cogs weren't turning in your head. "Well, what do I do?" You stand up. "I gotta say sorry."
Eddie catches your hand. When you look at him, he shakes his head. You love and hate how smug he is as a dad, how he simultaneously knows all the answers but has to call Wayne at least once a week with some whacky question.
"What?"
"You don't have to say sorry to her for hugging another kid, just… explain that she's your favourite."
"She is my favourite."
"I know."
You look down the hall and then back to your boyfriend. "Will you come with me?"
"Always." Eddie gets up, and you hold hands all the way to Roan's bedroom, though the slim hallway makes it difficult.
He knocks on Roan's door. "Babe?"
"Daddy?"
He pushes open the door. Roan isn't sleeping, she usually doesn't until Eddie comes in to tuck her into bed and kiss her goodnight. She's sitting by the bottom of the bed with her big paper sketchbook and a crayon in hand, but she hasn't drawn anything yet. She drops the crayon and looks up at you both suspiciously.
"Y/N wants to talk to you. Do you wanna sit in the bed together?" he asks her.
She nods. Too soon, Eddie's pulling his hand out of yours and scooping Roan up deftly, and he climbs into her tiny princess bed with little hesitation. She looks small in his lap.
You sit gingerly opposite.
Eddie gives you an encouraging smile, worming his thumb into the palm of her hand.
"Roan," you start, awkward because Eddie's listening, hesitant because you don't wanna mess this up. You decide to go for the straightforward approach. "You know you're my favourite girl, yeah?"
She glares at you.
Not what you'd been expecting.
You try again. "I… I love you very much. Like, so much it squeezes out of me when you hug me, and you gotta push it all back in for me."
An inkling of a smile appears. She loves that game, and she's stronger than she looks. It really does feel like she's squeezing all the air from your lungs sometimes.
"And-" You continue, prompted by Eddie's voracious nodding. "And even though sometimes other boys and girls want to give me a hug, none of them ever give me hugs as good as yours. I just want you to know that your hugs are my favourite."
Roan leans back heavy into Eddie's chest. He kisses the top of her head unthinking, lips hidden by her dark brown curls.
Then, his lips move down to her ear, and he says, in his professional parenting voice that's all soft and warm, "I know you were unhappy when Y/N gave baby Henry a cuddle, but just 'cause she gave him a hug doesn't mean she can't give you one too. And ignoring people isn't something we like to do, is it?"
Roan frowns at him. "But she was holding my hand first."
"I know. You gotta share her, though. Like right now, you're in my lap, and Y/N isn't complaining. Maybe she wants to be in my lap, or maybe she wants you in hers."
You take the queue. "I miss my goodnight hug," you say, hands moving forward. You pout at her. "Please, Roan."
You wouldn't force Roan into a hug if you didn't think she wanted one. You're right, thankfully, and Roan stands up, wobbling across the mattress in her pink pyjamas and straight into your chest.
You curl your arms around her too tight and send Eddie your most thankful, loving look as Roan snuggles your neck.
"Missed you, princess," you murmur, hand creeping up her back to play in the soft ends of her hair.
You hug. Roan turns to mush, boneless, limp, every word for it, putty in your hands. Eddie had told you once that he thinks she likes your hugs because you're so soft.
He wiggles his eyebrows. "Think about it," he whispers. "You could have two of her. Three."
You close your eyes so you don't have to look at him, flustered but so happy you end up laughing.
"Kiss?" you ask Roan.
She nods. You cover her in kisses, every inch of her perfect face.
#eddie and roan#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#dad!eddie munson x reader#dad!eddie munson#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x reader blurb#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction
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Experience (S.R.)
Summary: Spencer wants to make sure Reader’s first time is perfect.
Request: Same as Part One (Inexperienced)
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Kissing, make out, loss of virginity, penetrative sex
Word Count: 3k
MASTERLIST
I’d always imagined that it would be difficult to date a profiler, even as a person who hated to lie. There were still some secrets I’d rather keep to myself.
Then again, I’d also thought I would hate dating anyone but a profiler, because, as a profiler myself, I would catch them in every lie. I would know their every secret.
After a few months of dating Spencer Reid, I’d realized the flaw in my logic. I had never considered the reality that the person I chose would never feel the need to lie to me.
When Spencer told me I was beautiful, he never had to lie. When he said he was happy, the truth of it was written all over his face. I felt each hint of excitement and insecurity through the way his hands shook when he touched me in a way he never had before.
It had been both a shock and a relief when he told me that he’d only slept with a couple women before me, and only once with each woman. From his perspective, he was nearly as innocent as I had been. In a strange way, it was comforting.
But the day he shared that information with me had also been the day I caught him in his first lie by omission.
“I appreciate you so much,” I’d said.
“I like you, too,” he’d answered, but he’d actually wanted to say, “I love you.”
(I‘d forgiven him for the half-truth when he’d proceeded to confess within the hour.)
Overall, dating Spencer had been effortless. If there was one negative thing I had discovered, it was that he made it basically impossible for me to catch up on recent movie releases.
Because every time around the thirty minute mark, without fail, Spencer’s hands would begin to roam. They would sneak under whatever fabric would accommodate him.
Of course, I say it’s a negative, but I didn’t really mind. I’d sacrifice a million poorly written scripts for him any day.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to tease him about it, though.
“Are you even watching the movie?” I asked.
Spencer hummed against my neck. Without answering, he gave another long kiss against the sensitive skin before he’d decided that the couch was better suited for horizontal activities. He helped guide me to lay on the couch beneath him; the both of us abandoning the movie screen for something far more enticing.
Again, he kissed me. This time just a chaste peck on the lips. I’d decided it wasn’t enough, however, so I pulled him back for the type of kiss that left lingering tingles from the loss of pressure when it ended.
“I take that as a no?” I giggled.
“You’re way more interesting,” he slurred.
I ran my hands through his mussed, mousy brown hair and pushed the few strands away until I had an unobstructed view. His pupils had grown so much in the dim light of the living room that I could hardly see a halo of amber honey irises.
I released a soft sigh at the sight because I knew it wouldn’t last nearly long enough. I had been right, too, because it didn’t take Spencer long to push against my hands and capture my lips with his once more.
I wasn’t going to complain. Especially not when he used his knee to push my legs apart. He replaced the empty space with thigh, which he politely offered to me for a more exciting seat than the couch beneath us.
My back arched on instinct as I ground down against the strong muscles. A gentle mewl escaped from between our lips. The sound only encouraged him more, and Spencer became even more insistent in his adoration. His hands held me closer, and I was happily crushed within his embrace.
“You’re so soft and so warm,” he groaned.
He hadn’t been wrong. It felt like every inch of me was on fire and I was helpless to stymy the embers. It was so hard to find my thoughts among the haze of lust, but I managed somehow.
“Do you want me to use my mouth again?” I offered with a giggle.
I watched the memories replay through his mind. Then, for the first time since our educational experimentation had begun, Spencer seemed almost disappointed in the prospect of being worshipped by me.
Instead of accepting, his wandering hand came to a stop at my hips. He slowed my movements until there was nothing but the sound of hot, heavy breath.
With the back of his free hand, he brushed his knuckles over my cheek. His eyes burned into mine, igniting an even deeper fire than I felt in my chest and between my legs.
“I want…” he whispered, his voice wavering so badly he had to try again. I could sense the restraint in his shaking hands and hard swallow.
But then he said it.
“I want to take you to bed.”
My heart stopped in my chest—not for too long, though—it had to find him again. It forced me to pull him closer, to share in the metaphorical and literal warmth of his embrace. I felt the lithe but strong musculature of him hold me as tightly as he could without hurting.
I looked into those darkened eyes and saw a soul overflowing with love. I saw myself in the oceans of his lust. I felt it, the soft rocking of our bodies that had begun moving again.
I wondered when it had stopped being scary. Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.
“Take me,” I whispered under my breath.
Spencer had prepared to accept rejection. So much so that he seemed genuinely shocked at the softly spoken words.
“Wait, really?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but giggle at the way his voice cracked.
“Really,” I promised.
The poor man practically tumbled to the ground in his haste to move from the couch. With absolutely no grace and an almost juvenile amount of excitement, he jumped up and helped pull me from my still horizontal position on the couch.
I could hear myself laughing. My chest was somehow both completely devoid of air and also full of it. The joy pouring out of us felt never ending. Even when we found each other again, I’d chosen his lips over breathing.
We disrobed each other with an equal amount of laughter and just as little grace. His hands didn’t feel foreign on my bare skin; he had held me fervently several times since the first movie night. But they still felt exciting.
There was a renewed vigor in the way he loved me. Not that anything had been missing before. It was just different. It was a comfortable chaos.
When we were finally bared before each other, however, the frenzy subsided. We stood together, with our hands interlocked despite so many other places we could hold one another. Spencer tried to keep his eyes on mine, but he must’ve found other sight too inviting. His eyes flickered over my naked body like a page from his favorite novel.
Part of me felt like we could spend an eternity there, basking in the vulnerability and trust we offered one another. But the rest of me was far too excited by the prospect of finally learning what all the fuss was about.
It was my decision to pull him forward, but it was his decision to kiss me. Somehow, despite his insistence to pay full attention to my lips, I managed to maneuver him onto the bed.
At first, I climbed on top of him. I perched myself on his lap like it was the most natural thing. I settled my hips so that his erection rested against my stomach.
Spencer took a moment to enjoy the sight of his girlfriend feeling at home with him. His eyes, still swallowed by the abyss of blown pupils, seemed to shine brighter. His fingers barely touched me. The tips dragged along my thighs like any pressure might cause me to shatter.
It felt that way, too. My heart was so full that each beat knocked the breath from my lungs.
I placed a gentle hand on the silken skin of him. I pressed him against my stomach and tried to imagine, one last time before I knew for sure, what it would be like to welcome him inside of myself in a physical way.
Spencer whimpered at the contact. His hands that had been gentle turned needy. He pawed at my thighs and dug blunt nails into the malleable skin. He didn’t stop me, though. He waited patiently until my palm slid over the tip. Once my hands were free, even just for a second, he grabbed hold of me and tossed me beside him on the bed.
The sudden movement made my lungs empty with laughter. Spencer joined in, rolling onto his side and mounting me before the momentum was lost.
He paused again. His eyes continued to scan heated skin between us. I realized that he was having his own moment, his own treasured memory of anticipation before the first had come and gone.
Things wouldn’t be the same, but he assured me they wouldn’t be different. He had told me early and often that he loved me. He had never given me any reason to doubt the veracity of the statement.
I’d gotten better at knowing when he was lying ever since I’d seen him naked.
So when he finally spoke, I knew that it was the truth.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered with a roughness of a dried throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his hips lowered enough that he could once again feel the heat radiating between my legs.
“I want you so badly,” he whined.
His arms were shaking with restraint. Even when he pressed his length against me, his movements were unbearably slow. He slid himself back and forth through the wetness dripping from my folds.
I could hardly breathe. The tension from the waiting felt the same as the few seconds before the euphoria.
The next time that he pulled away, I issued my own beg.
“Take me, Spencer.”
His resolve stumbled. He rutted harder against me, but managed to maintain my purity for a few seconds longer.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “it sounds so good when you say that.”
I forced my eyes to stay even half-open as the torturous teasing continued. I looked up at Spencer and gently brought him back to me. His eyes were equally strained, glossy and fogged by the lust we shared.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked.
“I just…” he started just to stop.
He swallowed again. That time, he swallowed whatever lie he had concocted that he thought might sound more appealing to me than the truth.
But ultimately, he knew that I would have never accepted a lie. So, he told me the truth.
“I want it to be perfect.”
I fought the urge to laugh because I knew he wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t realize that I was laughing because it was absurd to think that he could ever be wrong.
I’d imagined this moment a million times over and he was the only thing that had never changed.
Instead of laughing, I kissed him through a smile. Each time he pulled away to gasp for air, I kissed him again. I continued until he seemed drunk from it all. I ran my hands through thick brown curls and didn’t stop the giggle this time.
“It’s already perfect,” I explained, “because it’s with you.”
Spencer laughed. His eyes seemed clearer as tears gathered in the corners.
“Don’t be nervous,” I assured him.
“I can’t help it!” he squeaked, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and now you’re letting me touch you, and I am just—!”
Before he could wind himself up anymore, I kissed him again. He kept trying to speak his insecurities to life but I dismissed them each with a quick kiss to impossibly soft lips.
“You are perfect,” I sighed. “That’s what you are.”
And for once, my boyfriend was willing to accept the praise. He reveled in the pride and safety that he found in his lover’s arms. I felt it, too. Any fear or hesitation that remained dissipated when he kissed me one more time.
Then, I knew that it was time. Taking one of his hands in mine, I guided both between us until we reached the slick, lily-soft skin. Our breaths hitched in tandem as we prepared for the bliss of togetherness.
“Let’s do it together,” I whispered as I abandoned his hand to grab hold of his dick. It felt warm and firm and more than I could ever ask for.
Heat blossomed throughout my stomach like butterflies. My lungs and heart pumped harder when his hand wrapped around mine.
Together, we positioned the head against dripping folds. Spencer pressed forward, filling the emptiness of me with himself. Inch by inch, he coaxed tight, resistant muscles into a new kind of tension. My body clung to him the same way sweat beaded on my skin. Each second that passed, I became more and more aware of how empty my life had been without him.
When I finally felt the base of him rest against my inner thighs, I let out a shaky breath. I breathed in again, reinvigorated. New, but still innocent to the full force of his passion.
“I love you,” he whispered against my lips.
“I love you, too,” I answered. I’d hardly even recognized my voice.
The dreamy, otherworldly quality of it had been honest. Just as I’d started to transcend the ninth cloud, Spencer began pulling out of me just as slowly as he’d entered. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the heat of him dragging against sensitive muscles.
Then, when I’d least expected it, Spencer thrust forward. With one swift motion, he forced himself to the hilt inside of me.
“Ah!” I yelped.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, not understanding that it had been caused by the furthest thing from pain.
“No, no, it feels so, so good,” I said between heavy breaths. Unable to express exactly how it felt, I explained, “You feel so good.”
“You have no idea how good I feel right now,” he chuckled back.
The joke, however silly, served as another reminder to my body that I was safe there. Even when Spencer started to thrust into me with less restraint, my body started to relax and allow him to take what he wanted.
My thighs rippled from the contact. My whole body writhed underneath him, rocking in tandem with his movements. We were simultaneously together and off-rhythm, but it didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was the soft sounds of pleasure pouring from our mouths and between our legs.
“I love you so much,” he pleaded, “Thank you for loving me.”
“I love you so much, Spencer,” I returned because it was true.
Spencer’s movements faltered simultaneously. He stopped at the deepest point of me and gasped. He steadied himself, trying to not lose himself completely.
Despite wanting it to last longer, I also needed him to come closer. So, I kissed him even though I knew it couldn’t last nearly long enough at his pace.
Still, Spencer’s lips lingered on mine. Each time he drove into me, his lips would brush against mine enough to satisfy my longing.
Punctuating every thought with our bodies crashing together, he whispered sweet nothings in the air between us.
“Your body is the closest thing to sanctity,” he groaned, “you are the only evidence of cosmic creation I will ever need.”
My stomach started to tense with the power of his words. They worked their way into the most intimate part of me the same way our bodies melded together.
My eyes, barely open, stayed fixed on his in the darkness. He served as my light, the fire burning between my hip bones. I felt myself becoming consumed so quickly that it made me hold him harder, closer, longer.
Spencer’s soul reached into mine and my words flowed from his lips.
“Fate exists and it brought me here to you. I was made for this,” he said between heavy whimpers, “I was made for you.”
There were no words left to be said. Every nerve in my body was firing, every beautiful word I’d ever heard was battling its way to my tongue. Only the most meaningful managed to be made.
“Spencer…” I whined.
He heard the desperation in my voice and he knew I wouldn’t last much longer.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered in earnest, “Take me. I’m yours.”
The sweet sound of my submission took him over the edge. Just as we’d started, we plummeted into the ecstasy together. With our bodies wound around one another and our hearts just as hopelessly enmeshed, we found our release. As my walls fluttered around him, I felt his heartbeat from inside of myself. Warmth unlike the rest filled where I was once empty.
When his body collapsed onto me, he still made sure that our lips met first. A chaste kiss devolved into a flurry of tongues and whimpers the way it always had.
It had been different, but it had been the same. Exactly as he’d promised.
Spencer eventually paused his worship to let his lungs catch up to our now gently beating hearts.
But he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Was it worth the wait?”
I laughed at his impatience and never ending desire to please. Relief washed over me when I realized that I hadn’t needed to lie.
“Yes,” I hummed before flashing a cheeky grin. “But I don’t think I want to wait that long for next time. Is that alright with you?”
And although it would take at least a few moments to fully enjoy each other to that extent, I still felt him twitch with excitement inside me.
Then, with a deeper, darker voice to foreshadow a future of exciting adventures, he rasped, “That sounds great.”
(And it was. It really, really was.)
(Tell me what you thought about this piece here!) NO PART 2 REQUESTS.
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Mother
I would like to request for a Noah x reader where they’re both friends who are pining for each other.
At one point they were talking about Noah’s hand tattoos and one thing led to another, they both realised the size difference between their hands and they both went 👀👀👀👀😳😳😳😳
MY CHILD!
"Honestly, I really want the next album to progress but I'm really glad the meeting was canceled this morning" Nick sighs as he leans back in his chair. They were currently visiting LA again after traveling. You had asked Noah if he was free to catch up for an hour or two like you all used to before their recent tour.
You had Known Nick for basically you're entire life and you were then introduced to Noah around your teen years. Of course you stuck around for their success, new members and their latest hit album and tour. You had even went on the first half of their tour with them.
“ oh yeah, did I tell you that Y/N is coming to visit after so long?” he informed his friend. “ she should be here pretty soon actually.”
“ oh, so are you gonna finally make your move?” Nicks Eyebrows danced at him,
“ come on, it’s just a meet up. We’re just gonna catch up.” Noah couldn’t help but play with his hands at his friend poking fun at him. Truth was you and him kind of had a little thing going on. A lot of people thought that you would’ve ended up together, but no one ever made a move. There were times where one of you was going to confess to the other, but chickened out last minute. Eventually, you both had kind of ignored it, and just kept being friends.
Oh, and he thought you would’ve felt too overwhelmed with his lifestyle and everything that was going on. You wouldn’t want to settle for someone who is always traveling doing work and writing, and thought it would scare you away. You were one of the most beautiful girls ever eyes and he thought You guys were dying to be with you and you would not settle for him.
You thought that you weren’t enough Noah was an uprising artist, along with the rest of the band, and you thought you were gonna just weigh them down. It didn’t help that Noah was very handsome and it honestly intimidated you into feeling as if you were not pretty enough for him.
Everyone else around you thought you would’ve made a great couple. They found both funny and annoying how long it’s taking you both to realize that you have feelings for one another.
“ I’m telling you you guys guys are running in circles. She clearly likes you and you definitely like her just make your move.”
“ we’ve been over this. I’ve already said it if it-“
“-was meant to happen you wouldn’t feel a certain way when you try to talk to her. I know you say that every time how about you just make a move I promise you dude it is going to work.”
Just before Noah could answer his doorbell ring
“ speaking of the devil herself, there she” side, feeling more anxious than he was before, since the conversation was brought up
“ make your move. This might be your last chance.” And Nick hung up the call, and Noah was face with his fears on his own. He feels his ears, lungs as he pushes himself from his desk and goes to answer the door.
Why am I nervous? She’s just a friend…. It’s not like she would want to be more than that….. even if I wanted it to be
He thought himself as he started to unlock the door. They did you who he would consider one of his best friends but also his secret love. He just wish that he could tell you that.
“ long time no see” you smile up at him just like you used to. How he missed that smile. The way your eyes would slightly squint and how your smile can brighten up any dark day. Oh, how he wished you were his so he could hold you and kiss you and stare at you all day long. Was that weird for him to think about?
“ the same to you look at you really covered in tattoos now” he teased you only seeing about three of them on your arm
“ says the one covered from neck to toe and tattoos all you’re missing or some face tattoos and you’d be complete “ you both give a giggle before he steps aside, and let you .
He watched you as you walked in. The way your hair gently flowed in the wind. Your hips swing with each step that you took.. and that ass . Noah was an extremely respectful person, especially towards women, but he couldn’t deny that you had a great ass on you, and it was one of the features that he really liked on you physically
“ so anything new going on? Aside from resting, of course.” You asked as you popped down on the sofa, making yourself at home as you would usually do
“ oh you know just working on the new album, all that junk. But we got the day off today, so just another day for me to center myself” he sat down close to you
"That sounds really productive and honestly relaxing” you kick your shoes off and fold them underneath your weight
“But tell me about you, you’re the one who’s been traveling and gotten some new ink” he said looking to your new inked skin. Out of all of the friends you were the only odd one out with no tattoos. You had finally gotten one with Nick, and once you left you had gotten one from each state you visited.
“Well, New York was obviously amazing and fluent a great artist for this one,” you pointed to the one on your shoulder “then after went to Virginia, visited some old friends of course and got this one. And finally stopped at Vegas and got this lil cutie” you pointed to a delicate design that wrapped around your wrist and went just about half way into the back of your hand.
Without thinking twice, Noah takes your hands in his and observes the tattoos. Face. You could feel your palms starting to sweat and your heart rate begin to race. You really hope you couldn’t feel how sweaty your hands were getting. You really hope you couldn’t hear how heavy you were breathing all the sudden. You had tried to convince yourself that those feelings were simply just teenage hormones, but now that you say here, again, with him in his living room. Your hands in his as he looked over your tattoos you had realize that those feelings truly did not go away…. However, you didn’t want them to go away either. Something with you hoping he would also reciprocate those feelings.
Then looked up from being much closer to your face than he had thought he was, and he giggled. He struggled to make eye contact with you know that if he did, he would say he’d regret. So, instead, he simply sat there in silence, while you looked at each other.
“They’re um….really pretty..” he said staring at your orbs. Mentally he meant your eyes, but verbally he said. “The tattoos…you found some great artists huh?”
Damn it! That was your chance! Artist? Come on!
“Y-yeah they were great, but compared to yours these are nothing” you blush trying to change the focus of the conversation
"which one is your favorite?" he asks
"I mean it would be hard to chose there are so many..." you chuckle trying not to sound nervous
"well take your pick" he said displaying his arms. You instantly look to his arm covered in a beautiful scarlet from wrist to shoulder. It was your honest favorite. You take his hand in yours as your other hand glides up his arm and trace along the beautiful design. You thought it was one of his best pieces
"this one.." you said softly. You hadn't even noticed he was now holding your hand in his. Your eyes fall down to them as you notice the size difference between you and him. How his hand encaged yours in warmth and comfort. Both your hands lining up finger by finger in front of your faces as your fingers slowly come to intertwine together. His hand lacing with yours nearly perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece finally put together.
"Y/N..." he called you and you finally snap out of your mind. Realizing the position you were in
"O-Oh Noah I'm sorry I didn't mean to do th-"
"I really like you." he blurts out
"....."
"I think..I've alwasy thought of what an amazing, smart and funny girl…I uh…lost my chance when you left to travel but I want…to want know..if you would- if you! If you feel the same way?” He asked cautiously
“…” you remain silent making Josh very nervous
“…if you don’t that totally fi-“ the poor boy was then shut up by your lips on his. It was 100%, defiantly a yes from you. His hand lets go of your as his arms wrap around your waist and brings you closer to him. You both pull back slowly and rest your foreheads on each others
“…well that took long enough” you giggle whisper
“Yeah…just pissed I didn’t do it sooner” he sighs as he rests you in his lap, feeling at home and comfortable with your weight in him
“Well we’re where now,” you smile “and you can make it up to me of course”
“And how’s that?”
“With some more kisses Mr,Sebastian”
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#bad omens#noah sebastian#noah sebastian x reader#star’s anons✨#bad omens cult#noahsebastian#badomens#bad omens fanfiction
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Can I ask for a translation on what happened in Vegas?
what didnt happen in vegas!
-carlos sainz ran over a drain cover that was not welded down 9 minutes into the first practice session. it ripped a hole through his car basically (he narrowly avoided getting royally and permanently fucked up by it) and he got a 10 place grid penalty for fixing said car
-toto wolff, the mercedes team principle, said very emphatically that carlos deserved this penalty. carlos did not in fact deserve this penalty because it was not remotely his fault.
-probably out of spite, carlos managed to finish the race above both mercedes cars
-back to practice 1, it was redflagged 9 minutes in after he crashed and it took nearly 7.5 hours for them to fix the track because they had to check all the other drain covers
-practice was already late to begin with and reportedly at 1am ish they kicked all the fans out who had bought tickets because it was "too late"
-tickets btw were over 1k USD
-practice two started sometime around 2am and didnt finish until nearly 4am
-yes, people were driving cars at over 200mph at 2 in the morning, jetlagged to hell and back. idc if you're a professional, that sounds dangerous
-the announcers were descending into madness the whole time and during practice two i think tried to talk about oceans 11 but fucked it up
-there was also the sphere. the sphere was relatively unhinged.
-the drivers didnt get back to their hotels until after the sun rose that day. and they had to race again that night
-oh also it was fucking freezing and when its freezing the cars don't work cause the tires don't warm up and the brakes don't warm up
-tires also warm up best on corners, high speed ones. the vegas track had mostly all low speed corners and really long straights. not ideal
-the pit lane exit was also smack in the middle of a really tight turn. which they would be exiting onto on cold tires with cold brakes.
-also the track looked like an upside down pig
-practice three was normal until the very end when alex albon crashed into the wall. no one was allowed to do practice starts because the session was red flagged and not resumed.
-the most notable thing to happen at qualifying was that both williams cars (which are basically tractors) managed to place p5 and p6 on the grid. especially interesting considering that logan sergeant has placed dead last in qualifying for the last several races.
-also both mclarens were at the bottom. this is not super relevant or particularly interesting but i was upset about it.
-ferrari went p1 (charles leclerc) and p2 (carlos sainz), but sainz had a 10 place grid penalty for fixing his car that had a literal hole through the bottom, so he started p12.
-weirdly, sir lewis hamilton and checo perez also started pretty far down the grid.
-anyway onto the race.
-there were so many safety cars. literally on the first lap the whole back half of the grid rammed into each other.
-then! terrifyingly! lando norris ran over a bump in the track on lap 3 or 4 i don't remember and spun several times before ramming into the wall. he sounded not ok on his radio but he got out of the car. eventually they ended up taking him to the hospital, he is quite fine but it was still a terrible crash
-his teammate, oscar piastri, seemly got possessed by someone or something, possibly lando himself, because he had a very impressive race until mclaren decided to use the worst tire strategy possible (as in, pit him in the last 10 laps to change his tires when this was largely avoidable by all accounts). he could have ended on the podium potentially if they hadn't fucked him up. still, he ended 10th and got the fastest lap and as a result the track record.
-there was also another episode of French Civil War at alpine when they told esteban ocon to stay behind his teammate, pierre gasley, and he said no !! and passed him for funzies
-charles leclerc also got possessed by something, possibly his own bad luck, because he managed to finish p2 after overtaking checo perez on the last lap.
-the same checo perez whos f1 career has been basically dead for half the season
-also lance stroll weirdly slayed
-despite starting high on the grid, both williams managed to finish out of the points
-surprisingly there were only 3 DNFs and 0 red flags
-this is surprising because of all the tire and brake issues that people thought there would be
-unsurprisingly max verstappen won. what was surprising was that he sang viva las vegas over his radio afterwards, especially surprising considering that he spent the whole weekend shitting on the race, saying that the track was terrible, he hated it, and that the fans should burn the place down for getting kicked out on practice 1 day and only getting a voucher in response
-related to that, the fans sued f1 over getting kicked out
-someone thought it was a good idea to put max charles and checo in the back of a rolls and film them driving to the podium. it was incredibly memey.
-there was definitely more that happened but this is all i can remember right now
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Lost cause? 2: she knows me?
Previous chapter
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook× Female!Reader
Genre: Established relationship/ marriage, angst, heartbreak, INFIDELITY. Panic attacks(TRIGGER WARNING). Pregnancy (do not read if this content triggers you) also, 18+,
Summary: You always wondered, how would your life turn out to be if you and Jungkook had a baby? So, when you finally conceive and decide to tell your husband, that you are pregnant, you didn't expect him to drop this bomb on you. You never would've thought that the surprise you planned would end up in agonized tears because of the shock your husband brings you.
Words: 3.8k
Please read the authors note at the end of the chapter. hehe~
••••••
It was all very awkward and heart-breaking, the explanations to both your parents, seeing your parents cry in front of you, seeing his dad bow his head out of shame, his mom hugging your sobbing body with tears in her eyes, no one could change anything so nobody tried to change the decision you both took.
No divorce. That is what you both decided on the balcony that morning, but it's easier said than done. A series of drunken calls by him, panic calls by you, and crying sessions that included you both tiredly sleeping. Not forgetting the almost deadly morning sickness and cramps.
The love and need you felt for Jungkook was not going anywhere, no matter how hard you tried, becoming so frustrating that you started thinking of divorce. But the idea was immediately turned down by your therapist considering the pregnancy.
Yes, therapist. Never did you think you would visit one of these anytime soon. You lived separately, away from his physical self, but every little detail of the baby's growth was a part of his daily routine. You texted him about what the doctor told you in your appointments, and he told you to take care, and you always hung up asking him to do the same.
It was his baby, too, so you thought he should know every detail about the growth of his blood, too, not realizing how you just needed some way to check on him. You didn't want to but you couldn't help it.
It was like a routine for every 2 weeks, a call every 14 days, and a text from him 5 to 6 times in the 24 hours to check up on your health. When he received the first ultrasound, he spent the whole evening making a bunch of hard and soft copies of the picture of his baby. So small, like a bean, making his heart ache with love.
He wanted to be there. See it himself. Feel your belly. Kiss it. But he couldn't.
The agony of not seeing each other continued for three and a half months when suddenly you felt a pain in your lower abdomen, making you panic.
The therapist warned you of the consequences of the stress and the tears on the baby, the doctor did said that too but you couldn't physically control yourself from crying or giving in to the need to hear his voice whenever you cried, thinking not doing so might turn your health worse hence doing the same to the baby.
Your mom stirred in her sleep at your yelp, alarming her, immediately getting up she took a look at you, seeing the tears in your eyes she ran up to your father and told him to take you to the hospital. Your father rushed from the guestroom he had been sleeping in since your mom insisted you sleep with her.
Rushing to the hospital, your pain didn't grow but didn't stop either. When the doctor started to diagnose the reason for the pain, you only prayed that the baby was fine. Tears in your eyes, you wished the circumstances were different, with your husband holding your hand while the doctor diagnosed you.
But you were alone even with your mother standing beside you with concerned eyes.
Soon, you got to know that it was because of the sleeping posture and the ligament pain, which was basically your body making space for the baby. With the advice of sleeping in a better posture with a pillow to tuck under your leg and some prescriptions, you open the door to exit the room.
Thats when you see him.
After three and a half months which felt like years, you lost your composure, especially when he came your way sprinting with long legs, fuzzy hair, bags under his eyes, mismatched clothing, you guess he was in a rush so he must have picked a random shirt over the joggers considering he sleeps shirtless.
Also, were those different slippers?
You saw how his eyes take you in and gloss up, making your vision blurry with tears, too. The hurt and anger of him cheating was still there, but the hormones of the pregnancy were messing with your mind, and you wanted to kick yourself for being happy at seeing him.
"You okay? What did the doctor say? Is everything okay? Is she okay?"
He always wanted a girl. The she in her sentence makes your heart squeeze, and you look at your mother with a clenched jaw.
She replies the questions that Jungkook asked, him still looking at you with concern while your mom explained everything.
"Y/N I-"
"Please go, Jungkook. Thank you so much for coming here, but I need you to go." You say sniffing.
The silence between you, Jungkook, and your parents was defeaning, broken by you moving past him, wiping the tears that flowed automatically on seeing him after so long.
Happy or sad, you have no idea. Relieved to be around him? For a second, maybe. You got mad at your father that he told Jungkook about your abdominal pain, but then he said he just couldn't see you in so much agony, and he just called him.
You never wanted to see your father cry, but he did, and you felt helpless.
The next two months went terribly since you stopped contacting him, stopped replying to his texts, occasionally texting him not more than three words. The fact that you got some kind of assurity through the texts was somewhere in the back of your head, but you didn't want to admit. No matter what. You can't. Thus, your anxiety is rising.
When he reread the text, you last sent him four days ago. 'The baby is okay.' he felt his heart squeeze up, the thought of you assuming him texting for only the baby hurt him. He wanted to know about you too. He felt disgusted by the fact that he did this to you, the love of his life.
The last time you saw him made you realize that seeing him in person would not change the fact that he cheated on you, broke your heart even though you loved him, and you still love him. Fuck why do you still love him. Your heart and mind aches from all the heart break and your back aches feom lying down so much and the hormones making you mad makes you wanna punch Jungkook and then hug him, feel his warmth all around you.
The sudden urge to take a walk in the garden downstairs to clear your head washes over you. Even though the doctor told you that you're not supposed to move much. You still try to get up when-
"Ow! Fuck, fine I won't! I am much more responsible than you, little one."
You tell your baby as you feel the cramp in your back that makes your head fall back in frustration. The pain and the mood swings make you make an impulsive decision that involves you, your anger, and your phone.
Finding the name in your contacts you click on it and hear the ringer do its job but at the second ring you realize what a big fucking mistake this might turn out to be, so you immediately turn the screen on to hang up but drop the phone on the mattress in the middle of the rushed action.
"Hello?" A deep voice resounds on the mattress, making you freeze. Shit.
You get up slightly to pick up your phone while he tries to get a reply from your side. The contact image smiling at you mocks your irritated face. Making you much more infuriated.
"Y/N?" a whisper.
"Yes, it's me, Jungkook!" You speak up a bit rudely, answering his question, the other side falling silent with a hint of traffic in the background. He must be getting back from work.
"Are you oka-"
"Why? Why did you do this? I loved you. I never did anything bad, so why do I have so many heartbreaks. It hurts! My heart and my head hurt!"
Silence.
"Answer me! You have no clue how much I wanna hate you, Jungkook. You dont know how is it to have all these fucking mood swings killing me, I dont have you. I cant expect these hormones to calm themselves on their own cause you're not around me?!"
By the end of the rant, you start sobbing, your body shaking with the number of hiccups you're having. Jungkook always helped you with your moody episodes and cramps during your periods. He was always there.
You just hope you dont wake up your sleeping dad, who took his blood pressure pills. You told him to sleep, but now you dont know if he could, considering your wails. Your mom out for maternity clothes shopping since moving and working in these normal ones was a pain in the ass.
"I could be there, I wanna be there. I want you to know how much I regret my mistake just please...baby, let me in. Please." He whispers in the phone, clearly on the verge of crying.
You sniff on your side, eyes shut tightly, giving him the cue to go on.
"I would never, ever force you to t-take me back or f-feel something for me. Just let me be there when you need me. I won't talk or anything just please.."
Taking the device off speaker you furiously bring the phone to your ears. "You really think its easy, huh? Well I dont think it would be if- ah!"
You suddenly feel a tiny pulse like sensation on your tummy, and you freeze, dropping your phone. You think it's one of the pains you felt earlier, but this doesn't hurt. it's like a flutter. You gasp again as you feel it again, eyes widening with joy as you absentmindedly pick your phone up to tell your husband that your baby just kicked!
The feeling of the baby moving inside you made your heart swell double in size, and you call out his name in the device, but your smile falls, seeing that he hung up.
He must've reached home.
Home. The visual of the shared apartment makes you sigh, reality hitting hard. Oh, how you wish you could be in your house, with him, without the suffocating memories of you crying in the kitchen.
Your dad rushes in the bedroom, making you flinch as he slams the door open.
"Y/N! Are you okay? Why are you crying? Did something happen? Did Jungkook say something? Did you call? Why are you-"
"The baby kicked dad-"
You gasp as it kicked once again, and your father laughs with surprised-teary eyes along with you.
"Oh my god, I don't know what it is that makes the little one kick, but I am gonna try finding it out. Help me figure it out, dad!" You say giggling as your eyes widen with happiness as the baby kicks again, but then you realize that the kick it gives you again is at the term dad. Fuck.
Okay, the kid is genuinely testing your patience and emotional waters.
"It's dad." You hear a whisper, and your heart stops beating for a second. When you turn your head towards the door when you see Jungkook and your mom.
"It's me. She knows me. She knows who I am." He keeps whispering talking about the baby as he enters the room and slowly crouches down at the edge of your bed, staring at you, baby bump with tears in his eyes,
Hearing you sniff he looks up and sees his wife, the mother of his child, the love of his life, not even facing towards him during this moment and Jungkook couldnt help but grab the white duvet covering you, his hands itching to wipe your tears.
Y/N. Look at me, please."
You clench your jaw, tears slipping out of your eyes. When he whispers your name again, you shut your eyes frustrated. This is what you both wanted, right? This is what you've been trying for 1 year, right? Then why does it have to be so painful when you finally get it?
"Y/N?"
You snap your head, looking at him. Eyes glossy, face red and dark circles, a description suitable for the both of you. His face softens at your questioning stare, and he whsipers a barely audible answer,
"You didn't answer when I called your name numerous times, so I thought you were in pain. I was near Taehyung's apartment when you stopped responding, so I came here straightaway.."
"Taehyung's?" You ask.
At your question, he wipes the sweat over his upper lip, diverting his gaze towards his lap. "Yea, he found out about- what I-I did, when I went to his place, all the hyungs know." He sniffs. Maybe that's the reason why Namjoon Jin and Yoongi tried calling you at least 6 times the week after you found out. Maybe that was the reason hobi visited your workplace, thinking you would be there. Maybe that's why the soulmates sent flowers to your workplace.
You thought they just knew about your pregnancy, hence the flowers, calls, and visits.
"I've been crashing there, in his guest bedroom. I just dont want to go to our place. it's not a home without you." He whispers.
You look at him in silence, how he doesnt make eye contact, staring at his lap, as he fiddles with his fingers, you look up at your parents who have been there listening to the full interaction with worry in their eyes.
They were mad at Jungkook at first but knowing you needed him during this time the most, they couldnt tell you to seperate or move on and since he wronged you they couldn't call him over to comfort you. It was very painful and confusing for both families.
Looking at your parents, you motion with your eyes to give you a moment of privacy.
You give them a small sad smile before they turn to leave the room.
"Jungkook?"
He looks up, responding to your voice with a sniff. His nose was red, and his cheeks were all wet.
"This is getting insufferable. To be honest, I wish all this never happened, but it did. You or me, we cant change that, but the fact that I cant leave you, cant get a divorce, cant control my emotions, cant eat the pancakes you made when I crave them at 4 in the morning so much!" Your voice starts quivering due to the tears and anger inside you.
"It's killing me." You shake your head frustrated.
"Also, why can't I stop thinking about my therapist giving me hope about us? Why did it make me feel relief? Why do I want to give in?!" You look at him again, his eyes already on you.
"Why did you have to ruin everything, Jungkook? This was our dream. Our dream! I want to forget you so bad, wanna forget how you broke my heart and oh! how I wanna change the things in which they are, but I can't Jungkook! I can't! I'm stuck with you, your memories, your smell, the comfort you gave me, everything! Fuck I dont want to give in to the hope. I cant do that to myself!"
You clutch your head, and he hesitantly gets up after a moment of heavy silence, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed. You look up at him, still clutching your head with one hand while the other drops in your lap, brushing slightly against your baby bump.
He takes his hand and places it on top of your resting one. He thought you would push him away, but you didn't. He looks up and removes your other hand from your head and puts it over the already interlocked hands in your lap.
You feel weird thinking how you should pull your hand back, get away from him but at this moment nothing felt better, you needed him as your comfort and he understood that.
He looks into your glassy eyes and sniffs, his nose scrunching. You now notice how chapped his lips are and how his eyes are red, a little bit of stubble on his face, piercings gone, and a dull skin tone.
Your heart beats with anxiety, wanting to give in the hope but also wanting to create boundaries for yourself at the same time. Your heart was betraying you at the moment you wanted it to be strong.
You should be strong, you owed yourself that! But why does this comfort make you want to live in it, swim in it, so that it can wash away all your problems?
"I-I will always be there, Y/N. Whatever you decide. I will leave immediately if you want a divorce, I swear I will never show you my face, ever again, if that makes you move on and forget me. But if you want, even for a second to try again? I will do anything to make things right. I won't come close. I won't touch you. I will stay somewhere else. You can be here with your mom and dad. Whatever you want, but if even for a moment, e-even as a forbidden thought, you think of trying? Please tell me?" He pleads, holding your hand, without moving his eyes from yours, as if afraid of losing the hope for the both of you.
You inhale and exhale as an exercise your first therapist told you to do when anxious. His hands feel so warm you can't help but grab it, nails digging in his skin to make yourself make a decision. His face softens at your gesture.
"Y/N I am very-"
"Wait."
You hold his hand and put it gently on your slightly 5 month swollen baby belly. He widens his eyes as after two seconds, you feel the baby kick again. This time without someone saying the word 'dad'.
After five months, your baby felt the touch of the only person you could ever dream of having a family with. Jungkook, your husband, the love of your life. When you both stare at your belly, smiling, for a moment, you let go, you stop your compulsive mind to stop thinking of the consequences. You let yourself feel his hands. The warmth. The comfort, all seeping in.
When you look up at him, you see that his eyes are wide, his chin quivering and his nose getting redder by the second, a sob leaving his mouth as you start crying too. The distance and the problems between you both getting overpowered by the feeling of fullness. The betrayal is not a part of your thoughts for the first time, only for a moment, but your mind felt happy.
The situation and the hand on your belly makes your mind feel a sad Déjà vu of the night he told you about what he did.
"She knows me. She knows her dad!" his voice gets you out of the memory you went in, and you see his face brightening up.
He sobs, and you feel your heart clench at this sight. Can things ever get better? Do you even see a future without tears along with Jungkook? Is your therapist right? Do you really think you could work this out? What if this is all due to hormones and you regret it later? But didn't the doctor and the therapist both say that you need the most loved person in your life to give you comfort and calm you down in anxious episodes? But what if he himself is the reason for the anxiety?
These emotions are fucking with your head and you need to talk to the therapist yourself. Maybe with him this time.
"Y/N?"
He pats the back of your hand with his, hesitating for a second, afraid of your reaction to him holding your hand. Seeing that you didnt flinch, he continued,
"You zoned out."
You look at him blankly, his confused expressions mirroring your emotions. You feel your throat close up at the thought of saying you wanna try. Try again. You feel like you are betraying yourself. Letting your past depressed self down, but why dont you feel your heart clogging? Why are his red yet warm, familiar eyes so comforting?
You certainly can not forget what he did. But would trying again be bad? Would it turn out to be disastrous? Do you really think that the cliché about couples therapy might be true? Can the issues between two people be solved by a stranger? Would you even be able to talk openly about your relationship?
Looking at your dazed and blurry eyes, he takes one of his hands and pets your hair, slightly stroking it, understanding that you need him right now. He caresses your hair and untangles the knots you created while clutching your head.
"I'm here. I'm always here with you. No matter what you choose, hm?"
Your mind finally focuses on what you want, and you slightly sit up, tightening your hold on his hand. He knows it's now or never. You're gonna choose, and he is gonna have to make peace with whatever your choice is. If it means never showing you his face again, he will take it. But if you choose him? Choose to give him another chance? He will do whatever it takes to make things right.
You open your mouth to close it once again, his eyes wide with hope and concern when he sees you squeezing your eyes as if to rip the bandage off.
"Should we give us another chance?" You whispered with a tight grip on his palm as if scared of letting yourself hear the words. Looking up, you ask him again,
"Could we ever be us again?" You asked in a hushed whisper with a tear falling out of your eye. He felt his heart beat faster at you, giving him another chance. This time, he will make sure you dont regret this decision. He wanted to hug you so bad, wanted to kiss your tears away, and hold you while promising the second chance would be a decision he would make you happy that you did.
Instead, respecting your boundaries, he just squeezes your hand and says with a small-teary smile.
"We would be better than before at this, Y/N. I promise."
Authors note: hie! I am back with another chapter, and I know it's been a long time since I updated, but I've been going through a lot of changes in my life right now and I really wanted to upload this last week, but I was busy with my internship interview preperation and assignments and exams.
••••••••••
Next chapter series masterlist main masterlist
Also, it's fiction, so let's just be calm because I love every BTS member, too, just like the readers of this series. Anyone who wishes to be a part of Lost Cause taglist, please message me or send me an ask! I love you all! Hehe~ plea
#jungkook scenarios#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x you#jungkook drabble#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook fic#jungkook imagine#jungkook series#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x yn#jungkook x you#bts angst#bts fic rec#bts one shot#bts fic#bts drabble#bts fanfction#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fic recs#bts ff#jungkook angst#bangtan sonyeondan#bts imagine#bts masterlist#jeon jungguk
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