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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

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Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Monday)

Summary | Day One of your trip to the lake house with Joel and you can't keep your hands off each other. It's all about making up for lost time.

Warnings | Fluff, 2(3?) lovesick fools, mentions of food and alcohol, explicit smut, breeding kink, oral sex (F & M Receiving), unprotected PiV sex (We can't all have a sexy Joel Miller to make us pregnant, please wrap it up), talk of UTI's (Honestly, not worth it, PEE AFTER SEX PLEASE), as always, Tommy kinda getting cucked and Joel just being Joel.

Word Count | 5.1K

Authors Note | The love that this series has received already, without me even posting a chapter has been overwhelming and I am so grateful to you all for being so enthusiastic about this. This little trio means more to me than you can ever imagine and I'm so incredibly happy to be able to bring them back to you. I would love to know what you think about this first instalment, so please leave your comments, reblogs and my ask box is always open if you want to scream about this with me. If you enjoyed this then please consider leaving me a tip on my Ko-Fi here.

SEASON TWO OF TRIAL & ERROR. Read the first instalment here (This probably won't make sense without it.)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You press a kiss to Joshua’s forehead as he keeps his hands around Tommy’s leg. He’s four now, toddling about, like a perfect little human, and still, whenever you see him, your chest swells with happiness and love in a way you didn’t think would still be possible.

“You be good for daddy, okay?” You smile, ruffling the hair on top of his head, before bending down to his height, opening your arms for him to fall into as he hugs you, “I’ll be back soon, I promise, and I’ll call every day.”

A whole week away from your baby boy was daunting. You don’t think you’ve ever spent longer than twenty-four hours without him, but you know he’s in good hands. His dad knows what he’s doing, you’re not worried.

Tommy has picked Joshua up into his arms, the little boy clutching onto the collar of his shirt as he leans down to lock his lips with yours. You smile into his kiss, letting your hands drop to his waist to pull him a little closer to you.

“You make sure you give the old man a run for his money, okay?” He smirks when he pulls away, hand running over your hair.

“He’ll wish he hadn’t come up with idea.” You whisper back, one last chaste kiss to Tommy’s lips and Joshua’s head.

“You ready?” Joel asks from across the truck, sliding into the driver’s side.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Joel is nervous. He very rarely feels like this in his older age, especially when it comes to speaking to Tommy. They’ve grown up together, he basically helped raise him, had countless awkward conversations with him, including the one that got him here in the first place, waiting patiently for his birthday so he can steal away his girl and have one night with her all to himself, but he’s still nervous.

It's the end of summer, Sarah will be leaving for college in the next few days, dead set on becoming a doctor, so Joel’s decided the only way to celebrate his little girl going off and doing what neither he nor his brother could do, and to ease the impending loneliness he’s going to feel at having this big house all to himself, is a cookout. He’s fed everyone, spent time keeping Joshua amused so you and Tommy can eat in peace, and now, a few beers in, he thinks he’s ready.

He walks down to Tommy, who is cleaning the grill off, listening to the sounds of you and Sarah chasing Joshua around his garden, trying to tire him out. He puts his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and squeezes and they share a smile between them.

“You alright, brother?” Tommy asks, brushing down the last of the grill.

“I’m good,” Joel replies simply, “But I have something to ask you, a favour.”

“Anythin’ for you brother.” He smiles, setting down his cleaning tools and picking up his beer.

“I know we never discussed it, between us, but what happens between me and her, it makes me happy, y’know?”

Tommy’s smile gets bigger, and Joel knows that because it’s all his brother has ever wanted for him, to be happy, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so grateful for the man in front of him.

“I know second time around it’s takin’ longer than we’d all like,” Joel sighs, you’d all been trying for months for the second baby – people had told you second time around was easier, but whoever decided that was a damn liar, “I just wondered, y’know, ‘cause she’s stressed and all, whether I could take her away?”

“Take her away?” Tommy asks, eyebrow cocked with his lips on the bottle of beer.

“Not from you,” Joel stutters, “Just for a week, somewhere quiet, I don’t know, the lake or somethin’, just see if her relaxin’ might help things.”

“Where were you thinkin’?” Tommy asks.

“I’ve been lookin’ and there are some nice places up in Colorado,” He rubs the back of his neck, not wanting to admit to his brother that he’s trawled the internet late at night trying to find somewhere he can afford, that in his mind he has it all planned out, “Close enough that we can get back if anything happens with Josh.”

“I don’t know that she’ll get the time from work, Joel,” Tommy sighs, “It ain’t that I don’t want her to go, I know she’d love the time away, but she’s pressed.”

Joel turns around and follows Tommy’s eyeline, you’re sitting on the grass with your back against the veranda, watching as Sarah plays with Joshua a little further away. Your head is leant back against the wood and Joel can tell you’re exhausted. A full time job, plus being a mother, whilst Joel’s got Tommy working longer and longer hours so they can finally get their business off the ground properly.

“When was the last time she was anythin’ but a mother?” Joel asks, turning back to his brother, “Come on brother,” He pleads, “We can give her a break, give her the chance to be just her again,” Then he decides to sweeten the deal, “I’ll even give you the week off work.”

“You really don’t have to beg me Joel,” Tommy insists with a smile, “If she can get the time off work, then you can have her.”

You’re three hours into the drive. Joel has insisted he can make it in one go, with a few comfort breaks on the way, despite it being a twelve-hour drive, but you’re not going to argue with him. He’s well and truly in charge this week and you’re more than happy to relinquish control to him. It’s nice, having someone else worry about you, whether you’ve got enough snacks to keep you going, whether you need to stop to use the bathroom, whether you need to close your eyes and take a nap, as opposed to you worrying about doing that for your son.

Joel is tapping his hands on the steering wheel. Sarah had made him a mixtape before she left, supposedly full of the songs they used to listen to in the car together, though you can’t imagine Joel had allowed much Taylor Swift judging by how fast he was to press skip when the familiar sounds of Teardrops On My Guitar started playing through the truck. He’s just finished singing along to Bon Jovi, a smile on his face as he looks at you.

“I love your voice,” You smile, running your fingers lightly up the arm that is resting near you, his warm palm on your thigh as he drives, “It’s not too late y’know, to make it big with your guitar.”

He snorts but with a smile on his face, “I was never any good at bein’ on stage, always got choked up and froze,” He turns his head to you a little, “I’m happy to just save my singin’ for you.”

The CD he’s got playing skips to the next song and the sounds of Destiny’s Child’s Survivor start filling the car. Joel is already moving to press skip so you grip hold of his wrist.

“Don’t you dare,” You warn, “This is such a good song.”

“Sweetheart, come on, you don’t really wanna listen to it.”

You chuckle at him, “You’ve listened to everything you wanted, just give me this one song.”

“If I’m lettin’ you listen to this,” He growls, “Then you’re gonna owe me.”

“Is that right?” You play coy, “And what do you deem suitable payment for a single Destiny’s Child song?”

You watch his face, still trained straight ahead on the highway, but with that smirk that you always love to see from him. It means he’s thinking something filthy and filthy Joel is something you simply cannot get enough of. You watch as his eyes meet yours momentarily and then drop to his lap. If you hadn’t been so focused on his face, you’d have missed it, but your eyes trail down his body where you can already see him growing in his jeans.

You lean back in your seat, nodding to yourself, “Joel Miller, grown man, wants me to suck his cock whilst he drives, just like a horny teenager.”

He brings a hand to the back of your neck and squeezes, trying to gently drag you forward, “I’ve waited a fuckin’ year to have you to myself, pretty girl,” He speaks lowly, “Didn’t think I was gonna wait for a bed, did you?”

You chuckle but move to undo your seatbelt. He keeps his hand resting on the back of your neck, but it’s gentle. He doesn’t pull you towards him, just waits for you to set your own pace. You reach across the console of the truck with your hand, palming him through his jeans, reveling in the way his head tips back and he lets a long sigh fall from his lips.

“You missed me, huh?” You tease, bringing your fingers up to the button on his jeans, you should have known he had something planned when he turned up without his belt on.

“You seriously askin’ me if I missed you?” He asks as you pop the button and drag his zipper down slowly.

You lean over, lips pressing a chaste kiss to the scruff on his jaw, “Boost my ego, Joel Miller,” You whisper into his ear as your hand sneaks underneath the waistband of his underwear, “Tell me how much you missed me.”

He lifts his hips for you a little so you can shuck his jeans down just enough to pull his cock out. You lean over, Joel’s wide palm still resting at the nape of your neck as you fist him, running your hand up and down his length. If you were a stronger woman you’d tease him, but you’re as desperate for him as he is for you, so you bring your mouth right to him, swirling your tongue over his tip, lapping up the drops of pre-cum that are waiting for you.

Your wrap your lips around him and swallow him down as far as you can take him without him hitting the back of your throat, using your hand to pump the length your mouth doesn’t reach, swirling your tongue around him as you pull your mouth back up.

“God fuckin’ damn, babygirl,” Joel groans above you, hand tangling in your hair as you continue to bob your head up and down on him, “You’ve done this before.”

It strikes you in this moment that in the four or so years you and Joel have been together like this, he’s never once let you put your mouth on him like this. Before Joshua, he had always been hyper focused on your pleasure, whether you felt good, and in the years since, in those few short hours you had together, he’d never once asked for it, had stopped you when you tried, he’d only ever come for you when he was fucking you.

You sneak your hand lower, cupping his heavy balls in the palm of your hand as you take him further down your throat. The added sensation of your hand has him bucking his hips up into your mouth enough that you have to pull away from him, coughing and spluttering.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He worries, taking his hand from your head, “Are you okay?”

“Focus on the road, Miller,” You demand, moving to get right back down to business, “If I choke to death on your cock that’s my business.”

“Kinda hard to focus on the road when I’m seconds away from filling your mouth, pretty girl.” You can hear the strain in his voice as you start working his cock again, pulling off only long enough to reply.

“That’s what I want,” You whisper, “You gonna come down my throat Joel?”

“That what you want?” He grunts from above you.

“Wanna taste you.”

“Well pretty girl, you just keep goin’ and I’ll give you what you want.”

He stays true to his word, and after a few short minutes, he’s gripping a fistful of your hair, breathing your name out, as his cum spreads across your tongue. Salty, masculine, musky, but distinctly Joel, and you think from this moment on you might be hooked on the taste of him.

You pull back up, sitting back in your seat, Joel turning his head to watch you as you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out just enough to show him what he’s given you. Then, you close your mouth and swallow every last drop, wiping the small amount that had gathered in the corner of your lips back into your mouth.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes, “You’re somethin’ else, baby.”

It’s late evening by the time you and Joel arrive at the lake house. It’s dark so you can’t properly take in your surroundings, but it’s peaceful and quiet, and when you step out of the truck, it smells different. The smell of pine and fresh water fills your senses and it’s at this moment you realise you really needed this – a break away from the suburbs and the city you’re so used to.

You make a simple dinner of chicken and roasted vegetables, washed down with lukewarm beer that hadn’t had a chance to properly chill. Joel insists on doing the dishes, silently cursing he didn’t pick a cabin with a dishwasher. The more time he has to spend washing up, the less time he can spend buried deep inside you, which is what he wants most right now. He’s hungrier for you than he’s ever been, you having refused his offer to pull off the highway so he could return the favour earlier.

You’ve taken two fresh beers from the fridge outside with you. He can see you sitting on the small swing seat on the porch, taking small sips of your drink as you wait for him. You’re on the phone to Tommy, letting him know you arrived safely and then he can hear your voice change as you speak to Joshua – more high-pitched than normal. The conversation doesn’t last long, Tommy clearly needing to put Joshua down to sleep, so you’re hanging up the phone in no time. He notices you shiver through the window, so he digs out one of his flannels from his bag that hasn’t made it to the bedroom and takes it out with him, draping it across your shoulders. He takes a seat next to you, his thigh touching yours, as you hand him his beer.

“I bet this view will be beautiful tomorrow.” You muse, taking another sip of your drink.

“I don’t know,” He speaks back softly, looking at you, “It’s pretty perfect to me already.”

You can feel your face grow hot at the compliment, but you smile. Joel drapes his arm across the back of the bench, and you automatically shuffle in closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as his hand trails up and down your arm.

“So, how have you really been in that house without Sarah these past few weeks?” You ask, hand coming to rest on his thigh.

“It’s been strange,” He answers honestly, “But I’m so proud of her, my little girl training to be a doctor.”

Your heart swells because you’re pretty fucking proud of her as well. She’d worked so hard to get into medical school the past few years, finally settling on what it was that she wanted to do, and you have no doubt that she’s going to find some incredible medical breakthrough during her career.

“Still don’t know where she got her brains from,” He grumbles, “Sure as hell ain’t from the side me and Tommy got ours.”

You swat your hand to his thigh, “What have I told you about being kind to yourself?” You chastise, earning a low laugh from him, “Don’t sell yourself short, you started your own business Joel, not everyone can do that.”

He nods, but you think it’s more to placate you than understanding his worth, but you decide to let it lie, “You know, she’s not far from here,” You offer, “If you wanted, you could go and see her.”

“I’d like that,” He smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll call her tomorrow, gonna have to think of a white lie as to why I’m all the way out here though.”

“I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can think of something.”

It’s silent for a while between you. Listening to the wind rustle the leaves on the trees is soothing. Pair that with Joel’s gentle tracing up and down your arm, and the way he’s slowly rocking the swing with his foot on the ground, and you’re almost ready to fall asleep.

“Hey Joel,” You whisper, leaning your head up towards him, he answers with a hum of acknowledgement, “You wanna take me to bed?”

He leans down, pressing his lips softly to your own, “I thought you’d never ask.”

You stand, extending your hand to his, which he takes, letting you lead him back inside. Because he’s used to it, the routine of checking the locks at home, he makes sure he double checks all the doors are locked before letting you take hold of his hand again and lead him down the small hallway, into the master bedroom at the end.

The bed is huge, white sheets resting on top, with plump pillows at the end. If it wasn’t for Joel’s hands on your hips and his lips on your neck, you’d be focused on falling into it and going straight to sleep. He’s walking you forward, trailing wet kisses down the expanse of your neck, then he turns you once your knees hit the foot of the bed.

He brings his palms to your face, cradling it in his hands as he leans down, pressing those soft, plush lips to your own. You bring your arms to wrap around his shoulders, pressing yourself up on your tiptoes as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body flush to his broad frame as he opens his mouth, tongue licking into your own mouth as he deepens your kiss. It’s the first time he’s kissed you since last year, both of you having some form of silent agreement with each other that Tommy doesn’t need to see that. He see’s everything else you do when you’re together, when he’s watching his brother fill you up, this here, when Joel kisses the very breath from your lungs, this is just for the two of you.

With his mouth still latched to yours, he uses his hands to push his flannel from your shoulders, before he reaches down and tugs your own shirt from where it was tucked into your jeans. He takes his time, unbuttoning it one notch at a time, until that too is pushed from your shoulders. You don’t even realise he’s undone the button on your jeans until he’s pushing them down your hips – too focused on the way his mouth tastes.

“Sit down, pretty girl,” He whispers, dropping to his knees, “Been drivin’ me wild all day,” His hands trail up your legs, parting them in front of his face when you perch on the edge of the bed, “Thinkin’ about you all wet down here, after you sucked my cock.”

He runs his thumb over the front of your panties, tracing the seam of your pussy, which has indeed been completely soaked for him since you sucked him off. He presses his mouth, wet and hot, against the delicate skin of your thigh as you let your head drop back and a sigh to escape your mouth. His mouth comes to rest between the crook of your thigh, where the seam of your underwear is, and you think he might just pull them to the side and give you what you want, but instead, he starts a trail of kisses from the opposite knee, moving slowly up your other thigh until you’re squirming for him.

“Don’t tease me,” You beg, running a hand through the curls on his head, “Make me feel good, Joel.”

“This what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them off you when you lift yourself off the bed a little, “Want my mouth here?”

His thumb runs up the seam of your pussy, the friction without the barrier of your panties delicious now. You spread your legs for him, heels resting on the bottom of the bed, baring your spread, aching cunt for him. His palms are resting on the inner part of your thighs now as he leans in, lips pressing a single chaste kiss to your clit.

“Fuck,” You breathe out, chasing the feel of his lips as he pulls away, you almost whine until you feel him push one of his delightfully thick fingers straight into your weeping pussy, “Fuck Joel, holy shit.”

He’s grinning up at you like the devil when you look down, pulling his finger out all the way before slipping it into his mouth to clean it off, “You been this wet all day?” He asks, thumb moving to gather the slick at your entrance to drag to your clit, moving in featherlight movements.

“Y-yes,” You manage to choke out, “This is what you do to me.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he puts his face right back where you want it, tongue licking a firm, wide strip from your weeping hole and up to your clit, using the tip of his tongue to place precise flicks on your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s so fucking good with his mouth it actually hurts. He’s managed to learn exactly how you like it, what combination of moves with his mouth and the addition of his fingers bring you over the edge the fastest and that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. He slips two of his fingers back inside you, curling them straight up into that spot within you that makes you cry, lips sucking your clit into his mouth whilst his tongue still moves perfectly across you.

“God fucking damn it, Joel,” You cry, fingers tugging at his hair as you push your pussy closer to his face, “Gonna make me come.”

He doesn’t bother to pull his mouth away from you to tell you it’s okay like he usually does, just continues the movements just as they are until your crying his name out, the rope that was pulled taught inside you snapping as your pussy clenches around Joel’s fingers and you come so hard your vision blacks out for a moment.

You collapse down onto the bed, arms no longer able to hold you up as Joel takes his mouth from your clit, gently pulling his fingers from you. Without needing to be asked, you scoot up the bed, letting air fill your lungs. Your eyes are trained on Joel as he starts to undress in front of you, smirking at you when he drags his shirt over his head.

“You should charge people for this,” You mumble, “Sure a lot of ladies would pay good money to watch you strip.”

“Like this?” He chuckles, slowly undoing the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down painfully slow as you start humming, encouraging him to really put on a show, “Zip it.” He laughs, pushing his jeans down his legs, his cock hard and pressing against the thin material of his boxers.

He shucks them off his body as well and you watch, captivated as he fists his cock, he is, next to his brother, one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Joel Miller,” You breathe out as he clambers onto the bed, pulling you up slightly so he can take your bra off, “Do you know that?”

His mouth is pressing kisses between your breasts, letting his teeth nibble small marks across your chest before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. You can feel his cock pressing between your folds, running up and down your pussy as he settles properly between your thighs. You run your hand through his hair as he trails his lips up to your face, peppering your jaw with kisses.

“Can’t say I’ve been told much,” He whispers into your ear, “But I’ll take it.”

You can feel him reach between you, base of his cock in his hand as he brings the tip to your slick cunt. He thrusts forward just a touch, giving you the tip, lips settling onto your own so he can swallow the small moans you let out as he inches deeper and deeper into you until he bottoms out. You shift your hips underneath him, legs hitching around his waist.

“Baby please,” He pleads, “You gotta give me a second,” His head dropping to the crook of your neck, “Fuck, how does it always feel like I’m fucking you for the first time?”

You want to give him all the time in the world but you’re just as bad as he is. He needs to move, and he needs to move now otherwise you think you might actually die.

“Please Joel,” You moan, rolling your hips up into his, hand still firmly tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, “You need to move.”

“I ain’t gonna last, babygirl.” He groans as he pulls himself out and slams back into you.

“Don’t care,” You moan as his lips attach themselves to your throat, “Just need to feel you.”

He moves, placing his hands on either side of your head, pushing himself up, as he drags his cock from your tight heat and starts thrusting properly. You’ve had this man more times than you can count, two or three times a month for the past six months whilst you try for your second baby, but the way he feels inside of you never fails to set your body on fire.

He’s always so big, and you feel so fucking full of him. You close your eyes and tilt your head back further into the mattress as he drives himself deeper into you, head of his cock brushing against your cervix. It’s pain and pleasure, it’s too much and not enough all at the same time. He makes you stupid when he fucks you like this. Focused on one thing, and one thing only.

One of his hands clutches your chin, his voice hoarse with pleasure, “Look at me,” He demands, “Give me those beautiful eyes when I fuck you.”

You do as you’re told, eyes opening and staring into his own chocolate orbs that are dark with lust. God, you love him. You know you shouldn’t love him this much, it’s dangerous, but he’s so fucking good to you, you can’t help yourself.

“Good girl,” He praises, making your pussy clench around him, “Doin’ what you’re told, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

“So good Joel,” You moan, fingers gripping the meat of his biceps as you hold onto him, hips rolling up to meet his with every thrust, “Want you to come for me.”

“Yeah, want me to fill you up, pretty girl?”

“Yes Joel!” You cry, “Fill me up baby, please.”

His hips start to falter from their precise thrusts of before, he’s so fucking close, you can see it on his face, hear it in his growls. He dips his head back to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping along your collarbones as he pounds into you. He lets out one long moan of your name as he stills inside you, and you can feel the familiar warmth of his cum filling you up. He brings one of his hands down to cup your ass, lifting you up a little, as if he thinks the angle of your pelvis makes much of a difference when it comes to getting you pregnant.

He groans into your neck as he slips out of you, letting your hips finally drop to the bed as he rolls off you, collapsing in a heap beside you as he catches his breath. You lean over, kiss pressed to his cheek with a mumble that you’ll be back in a minute once you’ve cleaned up, the pain of last month’s UTI still fresh in your mind after you fell asleep without going to the bathroom.

When you return, two glasses of water in hand, he’s already pulled back the sheets and has settled himself back against the pillows. You hand him his glass, setting yours on the nightstand as you climb into bed, settling your aching bones against your own pillow when you realise this is uncharted territory with you and Joel. When you spend your one night with him, neither of you sleep – you spend as much time as you can connected, making each other feel good, and when he’s with you outside of that, with Tommy watching, or joining in, whichever he feels like doing that night, he’s always gone in a flash. You’ve never settled down to sleep next to him, you don’t know if he snores, you don’t know if he wants you to cuddle into his side and drift off to sleep together.

“Stop thinkin’,” He sighs, “And c’mere.”

You smile, crawling over the space between you as he moves his body down to lie flat on his back. You drape one of your arms over his tummy as his wraps around your shoulder, the other resting on your arm wrapped around him. You bring your leg up to wrap between his and let out a sigh.

“You have no idea how much I’ve always wanted this,” He whispers quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Somethin’ so simple as fallin’ asleep with you.”

You hum against his warm skin, letting the thumb that’s resting on his tummy start rubbing small circles on his skin, “It’s nice,” You speak, punctuating it with a yawn, “Hope you don’t snore though.”

His chest rising with a chuckle as he pulls you tighter to his body, “Go to sleep, babygirl,” He speaks quietly, “I’m gonna wear you out tomorrow.”

You don’t know whether he’s referring to the hike he wanted to take you on through the mountains, or the fact that you both know what you’re really here for. Is he going to keep you right here on this mattress all day, filling you up until you can’t take it anymore? Either way, being here with Joel has already been the ointment you needed for your stress. Your shoulders are more relaxed, and you don’t have the headache you usually do at the end of the day from gritting your teeth. Whatever he’s got planned, you’re going to take it, and for now, you’re going to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach that this time, though longer than you ever get, is still fleeting. You can worry about that another day.

Taglist: @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @kaitangatatacos @paleidiot

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bythepen98 · 8 months

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Doodles || Tomarry || Childhood friends/Growing Up Together au

(Ignore the not-so-time-period-accurate outfits)

Think of this as a timetravel au where Harry accidentally gets sent back to the past in Wool's orphanage at a young enough age where he barely notices the changes caused by the time displacement and thus grows up nonethewiser to his destiny as the Chosen One. Even when, objectively, his life at the orphanage could be considered worse considering the growing lack of food, his environment's state of decay and overall unrest happening outside the orphanage's walls, something about his situation felt right(?).

He'd always felt disconnected and out of place based on the few memories he still had from living with the Dursleys but now, it felt like he was home in a way. Like something finally clicked in his brain, his soul.

His instant connection to Tom helped cement that fact. It wasn't easy at first because the pull they felt when they first met was so strong that it scared Harry shtless and Tom, already half-full of resentment by this point, was horrified feeling anything to anyone that wasn't disgust. In the end, it didn't take long for them to meet halfway since they were still children and curiosity at the connection lured them in like candy; Harry wanted a special friend of his own and Tom convinced himself that Harry was worth his time because there was no way anyone ordinary could elicit such a soul deep response from him.

Tom has a mean streak and is more bloodthirsty than his charming facade would show but is honest about it with Harry. Although he doesn't have much to his name, Tom is serious about his self-imposed role as Harry's provider, giving him gifts (from the money he steals) during his birthdays and keeping him as warm and well fed as possible (by bullying the other kids into surrendering their share).

Sometimes, Tom....worries.....that his methods would eventually drive Harry - who has such an inherent goodness in him, so often kind to people who don't deserve it - away but what he fails to understand is that Harry's love and loyalty to the first friend he's ever made trumps any kindness he has for others. He'll never like needless violence and won't react if he was being targeted but all bets are off if he even a catches a whiff of plots against Tom. If he has to help hide a body or two in the future so that they won't be separated by something as inconvenient as jail or the law, then that's nobody's business but his own.

P.S. This Harry will probably go to Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin like in other fics. It just feels right. Probably should've drawn him wearing a yellow tie but only just got the idea as I'm typing this. Tom would rather eat slugs than go to the Hufflepuff common room but he's more than willing to entertain Harry at the Slytherin common room at every available chance. They have their own seat there and everything.

P.P.S. They also co adopt a tiny(??) baby snake when they realize they can both speak parseltongue and bring him along to hogwarts. Imagine being parents at the big old age of 10 to a possibly magical snake that may or may not grow past nagini-level size.

P.P.P.S. Future power couple in the making. Didn't think that far ahead whether I wanted Tom to go the political route or Dark Lord Voldemort style minus the horcruxes. Don't ask for me the details, just know that with Harry's help, Tom finds a way to prolong their lives without the consequences that come with using horcruxes. They may or may not discover that Harry is in fact a horcrux of Tom already but will never get the answer as to how it happened. Harry worries but Tom just chocks it up as the universe's way of paying him back for his shtty pre-Harry childhood. Ironically the type to believe in soulmates and destiny while Harry is a bit more skeptical on that front.

Alternatively, they could also decide not to do anything too significant -politically- at all and instead retire to the country side while doing research on as many branches of magic as they can. A bit laughable because of Tom's world altering ambitions and Harry's indulgent, enabling behavior but at the same time, anything's possible.

#doodles #tomarry #tomarry fanart #tom riddle x harry potter #tom riddle fanart #harry james potter #harry potter fanart #hpfanart #fanart #childhood friends au #growing up together au #actual soulmates #harry never realizes he got sent back in time #though he does find the resemblence to one James Potter just a tad bit surprising #and the green in Lily Evans eyes making Tom stumble the first time they meet #Tom NEVER stumbles #but seeing his beloved's eyes in someone else's face is jarring #overall though they dont pay much attention to it #just think it's another of life's coincidences #power couple in the making #implied hufflepuff Harry #bc his loyalty to tom trumps his morals #sane Tom #but still has psychopathic tendencies #dumbledore loves Harry but hates Tom #insert interesting worldbuilding here bc I cant write to save my life

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aesthetic-bbyg · 7 months

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BEACON OF HOPE ~ Sanji

LA!sanji x fem!reader

Warnings ! : being yelled at, daddy issues bc it’s the best fanfic seasoning, angst, fluff, abuse from parental figure, double standards, misogyny (or sexism?)

Nattie speaks: a lil something to y’all fed + I need a man like Sanji to comfort me and my daddy issues🙏

ZEFF WAS IN SOME SORT OF MOOD that day. The harsh trudging of his footsteps as he exited and entered the kitchen while bellowing orders was more then enough evidence to prove your point. Nobody in the kitchen even dared to breath the wrong way, afraid of the ex-pirates response. Even Sanji had managed to bite his tongue and hold back any snide remarks to keep the Zeff’s anger at bay.

You avoided any trouble all day, not causing a disturbance when a costumer was being particularly rude. You simply did you’re job was a waitress, took down orders and dropped them off at the kitchen, later coming back to collect the food and give them to the diners. You’d refused to even think about slacking off just a bit, not going over to Sanji for a couple flirtatious exchanges like usual. The Baratie was flooded in a thick tension but all was well, for the most part.

The business was booming with people, that certain point of the day where all the seats were filled with snobby, rich people. You’d been rushing between tables, taking down orders as quick as possible since these people didn’t recognize patience. It was overwhelming and overstimulating, making your temple throb in pain as you dragged you feet into the kitchen. You called out the order in a loud voice, sticking the scribbled notes onto the overhead where Carne cooked up a steak.

“Table 8 says they’ve been waiting for their drink for twenty minutes, y/n, hurry it up!” Zeff’s voice sudden boomed as he marched into the kitchen, you nearly flinched at the sound of his voice, swallowing down a remark about how those twenty minutes was actually a dramatized two minutes. Nonetheless you collected a few cups and took them straight out to table 8, some rich couple and their equally rich kids.

You gave them a kind smile, despite wanting to desperately slap their cocky smirks off their faces. “And are you ready to order?” You questioned in a chirpy tone, reaching for the notepad in your pocket and the pen tucked behind your ear.

“My, we just got our drinks, give us a minute to look over the menu.” The woman scoffed, you sucked you teeth in, blinking slowly and offering another wide grin.

“My apologies, I’ll be back in a bit.” You shoved the notepad back in its place, walking to a booth that was empty, though the table crowded in a mess of dishes. You reached for the sliver platter that held the receipt and a pitiful amount of berry left as a tip. “Assholes.” You mumbled, taking the money and collecting a few plates and cups.

The brewing storm in your head had begun to cloud your vision, sometimes you just wanted to quit and make a dramatic exit out of the shitty restaurant but you never had the balls to. The whole service you’d been good, held your shit together despite wanting to break down on the inside, bit your tongue, but the one moment you got vulnerable ended in tragedy.

In a fit of cursing out some of the customers out in your head, you didn’t take notice of the waiter coming out the kitchen at the exact same time you were entering. The collision led to the shatter of two plates, one cup and a mess of silverware clanking on the floor.

“Fuck.” You mumbled, watching as the waiter scurried away nervously, leaving you at the scene to deal with the approaching man.

“What the hell are you doing!” Zeff shouted, tone practically rumbling the whole restaurant as you stared up at him in utter shock. You felt like a kid again, having to guiltily stand there while an adult went on off on you. The man threw insults that he’d probably regret the next day, humiliating you over a few broken plates. You just stared down at the dirty floor, feeling tiny compared to him. “Clean this up and get out of sight!”

He walked past you, leaving the judging eyes of the kitchen crew to watch as you bent down, slowly picking up the larger chunks. You didn’t even realize that Sanji was approaching till the shadow of his figure loomed over you. You jumped, backing away in fear as you wide eyes met his. The boy frowned, taking notice at the tears pooling in your eyes and you’re quivering lip. You looked like a kicked puppy, that was enough for him to toss the shards of porcelain and help you up.

He took you out the back door, away from the staring eyes as he heard small whimpers escape your mouth. “It’s okay, darling, it’s okay.” He whispered, arms wrapped around your figure, his hand coming up to brush your hair. “The old man is just giving a hard time because he has a stick up his arse.”

You let out silent cries, tears dripping down your face and onto Sanji’s apron, his soothing tone helping ease the tightness in your chest. You felt stupid, and weak, crying over getting reprimanded for something that was your fault. Now your were taking valuable time away from both you and Sanji’s jobs, that’s all you thought about and it made you cry harder.

Funny enough, Sanji was thinking the opposite. He didn’t care about his job, or the broken pieces still laying on the kitchen floor, or even the fact that Zeff could come out any minute and yell at the two for slacking. All he cared about in that moment was you, making sure you cried all the tears you had, making sure that your trembling hands stilled. He placed chaste kisses on your head, standing there until your sobbing quieted down.

He slowly pulled away, hands still placed on your shoulder with a cautious look. “You look lovely, darling.” He chuckled at the sight of the black mascara that began to run down your cheek.

“Piss off.” You muttered humorously, taking the clean rag he offered and wiping away any evidence of your breakdown. “I hate today.”

“I know you do.” He whispered back, taking the cloth and gently swiping away the parts that you missed. “Beautiful as always.”

“Why are old people such assholes.” You shoved your head into his chest, words muffling as you did.

“Because they can’t get it up anymore without breaking a hip.”

You let out a chuckle, smiling against the material of his shirt, his chest vibrating with his own laugh and it calmed you down even more. You took in a deep breath, hands reaching down low, making the cook tense. You grabbed the pack of cigarettes he always had in his pockets, lifting the box with a sly smile.

“Get your head out the gutter.” He laughed quietly, reaching for the lighter in his other pocket as you shoved a cigarette into your mouth.

“Ready to go back in?” He questioned, watching as you puffed out a cloud of smoke.

“Yeah.” You replied quietly, taking a long drag while Sanji opened the door, allowing you to step in first. Gentleman, as always. “If Zeff smells this thing, I’m blaming you.”

The older man hated the stench of burnt out cigarettes that lingered in the air because Sanji had bad habit of lightening one every few hours. The ash tray on the extra table shoved in the corner of the kitchen was full, and Zeff always lectured the blonde on it, Sanji typically never cared enough to stop.

“Blame me all you want, darling, I’ll take the fall each time.” He winked at you, grabbing a dust pan and broom. He lazily swept up the mess, dumping it into the nearby garbage bin, something he knew Zeff would also yell at him about.

“He’s gonna kill you.”

“I’d like to that old man try.” Sanji smirked, giving you that classic flirty look that made the butteries flutter in your stomach. “Now, get back to work.”

You mocked a salut, rolling you’re eyes as you made your way to the kitchen doors, “Yes, chef.”

THE REST OF THE DAY HAD GONE smoothly, the sun hid itself behind the horizon as the dinning area emptied. Most of the guest had migrated to the bar, the party boomed at the other end of the restaurant.

You and Sanji were the only two in the kitchen, he was showing off some new dish he came up with, claiming it was the best thing on the VIP menu.

“We have a VIP menu?”

“Yeah, but it’s so secret that none of the guest know about it, not even the old man.” Sanji grinned, hand off the plate to you. “Now, the food critic decides.”

You rolled your eyes with a playful smile, picking up the fork and scooping up a bite into your mouth. The mixtures of taste were perfectly balance, unique flavors creating a wonderful sensation. There something about Sanji’s cooking that made you feel so safe and warm, you always teased that he was like a granny. He was able to create that familiarity in his food, something you eat every once in a while that reminds you of home.

You placed the fork down, dramatically folding your hands on your lap as you chewed down the food, “This dish, its…absolute shit.” You held back a smile, looking up at the cook.

Sanji glared at you, hands placed firmly on his hips. “You’re starting to sound like Zeff.”

“Ugh,” You groaned, “Don’t remind me.”

“I can’t believe he made you cry.” Sanji slid off into the seat right next to you, watching as the memory of his yelling flickered in your head, lips dipping into a soft frown. “Fuckin’ arse.”

“It really was my fault.” You mumbled back quietly, “But it was the fact that he yelled at me, you shoulda’ seen that look in his eyes.”

“I see it every day, darling.”

You didn’t like to reminisce on the past, especially since it was such a pain to even think about, both physically and emotionally. You didn’t open up about your family, or the crew you use to be a part of before running into the open arms of the Baratie. You were truly a mystery, you’re past locked up in a box and buried deep in the sand. Though sometimes, it escapes, poisoning you’re mind and breaking you down.

Zeff’s blow up triggered that poison, it spread like a virus, clouding you’re head for the rest of the day. Even now, you’d begun to dig up memories you didn’t want to remember. It was enough to make a fresh wave of tears build up, but you refused to cry this time, not allowing a single droplet to escape as you blinked them away. Though the quiet sniffle gave you away as Sanji glanced over at you, taking notice of the redness under your eyes, a silent confession that told him you were upset.

“You all right, darling?” He asked quietly, brows creased with worry, “Zeff isn’t here, he can’t make you feel like shit anymore.”

“It’s not that.” You whispered back, inhaling a shaky deep breath, “I’m just..thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” He asked, a comforting hand coming to hold yours. “If you need to talk about something you can talk to me.”

Silence filled the room as you struggled with making a decision, the truth was you’d probably start crying your eyes out if you opened your mouth. But the longer you held in these memories, the more toxic the venom became, it was tug-of-war between yourself and your conscious. Then again, the same trauma of the memories is what makes it such a hard task to open up.

You licked your lips, squeezing his hand gently and looking down. “I came from a pirate crew, but this pirate crew in specific was my family. Everyone on the ship was made up of all my relatives, mom, dad, siblings, cousins.” You saw the man nod from the corner of your eye, silently confirming his attendance. “My dad was the captain of the crew, and god he was a fuckin’ pain in the ass.” You voice cracked, words beginning to distort as you sucked in a deep breath. “My job on the crew was to basically be a maid, to pick up after the messes he made. Scrub the bird shit off the ledge, mop the deck, shine his shoes, serve him food, serve him drinks, anything a basic human can do I had to do for him.” You’re sadness had slowly began to turn to anger, your eyes lifting to finally meet his. “I got nothing in return, not even a few berry for the trouble.”

Sanji frowned deeply, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “Why would your father do this to you?”

His questioned made you scoff, because it was the same thing you asked the eighteen years your spent on the torturous ship. It wasn’t until you grew out of the naivety that you realized the answer. “Because I was a woman, and as a woman it was my job, my place, to provide service for the men. I was treated like shit all my life, and no one dared to say a thing.” You stood up, hand pulling away from his as you ran it through your hair frustratedly, moving to pace the kitchen. “The men believed that it was the job of a good wife to give and give, while they just take. I seemed to be the only one who didn’t believe this. But no one could ever speak up to the man, the captain himself, god forbid you disobeyed that asshole because he was never wrong, no matter the situation.” You finally sat back down, picking at your nails. “For years I was treated like nothing more then a slave, yelled at for being to slow, never praised for my work, only picked on what was wrong. It changed my way in seeing people, and it permanently left a scar on my everyday life. Hearing Zeff yell at me that way, it’s just..”

“I know, darling, I know.” Sanji cooed, for soft and tender, “That day, when you first arrived at The Baratie, you had a mark on your left cheek.” The cook swallowed thickly, recalling the day you’re feeble body came to the doors of the restaurant and begged for help. “Was that from him?”

The day before you escaped the ship you’d been refused food, as a punishment for not finishing your chores in time. When you spoke up about being hungry and the unfairness of it all, you received a harsh slap across the face. That was it, that was the last bit of disrespect you’d take. So you set off to steal a life boat and run away from the horrible treatment. “Yes, it was.”

“Bloody hell.” Sanji muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What was the name of your families crew?”

“The Calavera pirates.” You replied, Sanji leaned in closed, placing a finger on your chin to lift your gaze towards him.

“I’ll remember that name until the end of my life, and the day I find them, know that your same pain will be brought upon them.” His tone was so serious and low. His threat sent a chill down your spine, and not because you were scared of it, but because you knew he meant it. “You deserved so much better, darling.” He whispered, bringing you into his arms and planting a kiss on your hairline.

Sanji so desperately wanted to open his mouth and say that he’d treat you like a queen if you’d just give him a chance. But the man’s feelings were shoved down before they could tumble out his mouth. He chose to remain silent, allowing his actions to speak for him. With this new confession he made it his mission to take the extra step in making sure you were treated right. He would be your shoulder to cry on or someone to love, whatever you wanted. It was painful, the amount of love he held in his heart and he was unable to fully show you it.

But if he must wait all his life, he will.

sobbing but wanting to smash at the same time

lord pls send help.

#vinsmoke sanji #Sanji #blackleg sanji #Sanji opla #Sanji one piece #Sanji x reader #vinsmoke Sanji x reader #Sanji x you #sanji imagine #sanji live action #opla #one piece #one piece live action #one piece show #one piece fics #one piece imagine

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lazycats-stuff · 3 months

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Ok this one is mainly for Alfred but u could add batbros and batdad if u want, anyways i was wondering what would alfred (or any of the fam) do to stop BatToddler reader tantrum? Like i imagine the setting would be grocery shopping and Alfred's only getting healthy food including boring plain cereal and BatToddler is not having it and only wants sugar loaded cereal and starts whining and tearing up right there in the middle of the store, would alfred give in to those tears or find an alternative? I imagine batdad would give in and the brothers might even encourage it giving that they probably eat the same junk food

Oh my God yes! Anon, thank you for sending me this, this sounds so fun. Alfred needs love so this is Alfred centered, but I will put this in batfam since I'm to lazy to create a new page for the masterlist. It's a bit short, but my arm hurts.

Summary: Alfred has to make a deal with his grandson

Warnings: nothing really, (Y/N) crying, but it's short...

Alfred Pennyworth is a man of many talents. He may look like an ordinary butler to the public, but without him, the Wayne family wouldn't even function. He is the person who makes sure everyone eats, sleeps and somehow functions like a human being. Somewhat.

Some may find it tiring, but Alfred wouldn't have it any other way. He really wouldn't have it any other way at all. Of course, his grandkids so to speak were independent and didn't need anyone looking over them 24/7. That was until (Y/N) came as a baby.

Alfred nearly passed out when they got the call. (Y/N)'s mom abandoned him and just signed off her parental rights and Bruce had realized he had a kid. A baby, defenseless little creature who is untouched by the world. Untouched.

That's something that scared him.

But he knew that Bruce and him had to step up when it came to this little child. They really had to step up as caregivers. Of course, another problem was the press, pushing and prodding. Bruce hated it and told them that there were going to be consequences if they think about photographing his son.

If they did go out, (Y/N)'s face was covered by Bruce and or one of the boys who went with Bruce that day. Gotham citizens, the ones not included in the press, loved the little baby and were happy to him in public. Of course, that may sound weird, but the Wayne family is loved in Gotham and everyone just loves every single member.

In fact, the news of a new member, a baby member, broke the internet and Gotham in general.

Even Metropolis wrote about it.

And there was one thing that Bruce promised to himself. He would be present and he would try to balance everything. Batman, Bruce and the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Alfred and the rest of the boys were more than happy to babysit and (Y/N) was never going to be at fault for love or affection. Never.

And Alfred made sure he is well fed. And also, Alfred made sure it was healthy. His grandson needed to be healthy. Of course, there could some sugar here and there, but not all the time. Sugar from fruits is more than welcome, but sugar like in cereal? Alfred had put a restriction on it.

At least for now. (Y/N) didn't need a sugar boost just yet. Only natural sugars while he is so young. Bruce agreed. They would introduce him to the sugars gradually. Bruce relayed that to his sons and every son agreed.

No processed sugar while he is so young.

3 years have passed since (Y/N) came to live them and life was going great. (Y/N) has started kindergarten and was happy. He loved his brothers a lot and his father, but he loved his grandpa the most. Bruce's working theory was the fact that Alfred cooked the most and often made tasty foods for (Y/N).

None the less, (Y/N) loved the others very much and that was undeniable.

One thing that Alfred loved doing was taking (Y/N) to the store whenever he could. (Y/N) was just in love with the activity. It was fun seeing new things and bright colors. Alfred enjoyed since (Y/N) held the list while shopping and he didn't have to worry about it.

Although there is one single issue. (Y/N) has a sweet tooth. A really big one, especially for a child his age. So Alfred often had to bypass the cereal aisle and aisles that contained candy.

It would not be a pleasant sight. But Jason and the others want cereal and they will lose their minds if they don't get it. So what does Alfred do?

He goes to the aisle, preparing himself mentally.

This could turn into a battle.

Alfred took a right and started looking through the cereal. He looked at some healthy cereal and (Y/N) was reaching for Coco Puffs. Alfred saw it and moved (Y/N) away.

(Y/N) didn't like that.

" Alfred. " (Y/N) whined and Alfred raised his brow.

" Yes, master (Y/N)? " Alfred asked as he put the healthy version inside the cart.

" Coco Puffs. " (Y/N) said pointing at the cereal. Alfred smiled and shook his head.

" I'm afraid that I can't get you that master (Y/N). " Alfred said and he sighed when he saw tears in (Y/N)'s eyes.

He picked his grandson up into his arms from the cart. " Master (Y/N), don't cry. " Alfred said as he rocked him.

" But I want Coco Puffs. " (Y/N) whined and some tears fell down his cheeks.

" Oh darling... " Alfred whispered and kissed his cheek, trying to comfort him.

" How about we make a deal? " Alfred suggested and (Y/N) calmed down a little bit and looked at him in curiosity.

" You will have to eat the vegetables I give you. "

(Y/N) opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. Did he like vegetables? No. But he did like his Coco Puffs.

" All of them? " (Y/N) asked quietly.

" Yes. I know you are not a fan of vegetables, but I need you to be healthy. " Alfred said as he kissed his cheek once again.

" And then I'll get my cereal? " (Y/N) asked and Alfred nodded.

" We got a deal. " (Y/N) said and Alfred smile, kissing his cheek again.

" Good. " Alfred says and puts the box into the cart. " You can have one bowl a day. " Alfred said as he put (Y/N) down in the cart's seat for children.

" Cross off cereal master (Y/N) please. " Alfred said and pointed at the word. (Y/N) crossed it off and smiled happily.

" Now, let me see what else I have. " Alfred said and saw what else is on the list.

" We have one more thing left and then we can go home. " Alfred said and patted (Y/N)'s head.

(Y/N) just nodded and kicked his little legs happily. Alfred saw that (Y/N) often glanced at the Coco Puffs and made sure that they were in the cart.

" They won't be going anywhere master (Y/N). "

(Y/N) let out a little humph and smiled none the less.

" I have to make sure. "

Alfred laughed at the response he got as he moved the cart through the aisles. " The box won't walk away anywhere. " Alfred explained as he put the last thing in the cart.

" Cross off this word please. " Alfred said as he pointed at the last word on the list.

(Y/N) nodded and crossed it out. " Good job. " Alfred praised his grandson and made his way to the cash register. This was not so bad like Alfred thought it would be.

And the deal was nice.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #alfred pennyworth x male reader #alfred pennyworth

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inhonoredglory · 7 months

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Good Omens Season 3: Heaven and Hell dividing humanity; humanity as Leviathan; and Aziraphale locking the doors of Heaven and throwing away the key [A Meta]

(This meta is long, but I swear there's some good stuff in here. It took me 2 months to get it together for these two longsuffering Anons. Thank you so much for asking me these very important questions.)

In preparation for answering two Asks above (and to aid my own predictions of Good Omens 3), I read and reviewed the Book of Revelation, W.B. Yeat’s iconic poem “The Second Coming,” Terry Pratchett’s Small Gods, Neil Gaiman’s deleted scene from American Gods (Shadow meeting Jesus in America), and Doctor Who showrunner Russell T Davies’ 2003 miniseries The Second Coming (starring Christopher Eccleston!). The first two are definitely going to be referenced in season 3, Davies’ show is one of the few stories dealing head-on with the coming of Christ, and Terry and Neil’s bibliographies are probably the biggest resources for how Season 3 will shake out thematically.

🕊 How Aziraphale Will Change Heaven

I think GO s3 is the season we see Aziraphale really come into his own, when we see him implement the moral vision he’s taken this long to coalesce, when all the pieces he and Crowley have put together are finally put on stage in a terrifying, beautiful display (all that righteous anger and conviction, merged with his kindness and empathy is going to be Something Else).

There’s an angel in the Book of Revelation who stands between the Earth and the Sea. This angel wears a rainbow halo and speaks with the voice of seven thunders, and yet John (the writer of Revelation) is told not to write down what this angel speaks. (Sounds like someone has hit on the Ineffable Plan?) If Neil and Terry were going to pick up an image from Revelation for Aziraphale, I really like this one, because it feels like an intermediary role (between two Sides), one that god dare not make public because it speaks an uncomfortable truth. And it’s about speaking and revealing knowledge, instead of fighting or destroying something.

Because even though we know Azi and Crowley will fight to stop the second End Times, fighting itself is not a theme Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett really champion. Instead of war, Aziraphale will oppose Heaven in all the little ways he and Crowley opposed it before: By enjoying human comforts (Azi will definitely bring food and trinkets to Heaven and send scrivener angels and seraphim alike to tour earth). By asking questions (Heaven’s new suggestion box). By telling stories about humanity and why it’s important to know who these humans are before anyone kills anybody (Azi was, after all, brought on board because of his human expertise).

Aziraphale will become what Crowley wanted to be before the Fall, but Azi’s got the benefit of thousands of years of knowledge, cunning, and intelligence about how both Heaven and humanity work. He knows Heaven’s weaknesses, he knows humanity’s strengths, he knows his own capabilities, and he knows where Heaven will turn a blind eye. He’s going to be such a bastard the likes of which we’ve never seen. And he’s going to drop truth bombs like there’s no tomorrow.

Season 2 brought back the book banter about “the lower you start, the more opportunities you have.”

Season 3 will bring back Aziraphale’s most badass book moment. This scene takes place after Azi possesses an American televangelist talking about the fire and brimstone of the End Times and the Rapture (the mass teleporting of all worthy believers to Heaven). Says Aziraphale,

youtube

Aziraphale is fed up with Heaven’s hypocrisy and he's scathing in his condemnation of both Heaven and Hell. Everyone will die and become collateral damage, no matter which side is doing the killing.

Sound familiar?

That's the arc Aziraphale is heading towards: that blazing conviction of Crowley's, spoken out loud and fearless and in spite of his eons of trauma. And Season 3 will see Aziraphale get to that place, where he gets to tell off Heaven, but not just in the privacy of the bookshop or the bandstand, but to their faces in Heaven's hallowed halls.

The demons and angels in Season 2 were much less icky and ethereal (respectively) from their appearances in Season 1. Because it's working towards a further humanization of both sides in Season 3. Because one of the biggest themes in s3 will be Aziraphale humanizing Heaven in all the little quaint ways he loves humanity. All in preparation for the endgame of Heaven and Hell not existing at all.

(Season 3 deep dive continues under the cut...)

Because angels and demons won’t be fought, but changed. Maybe not by much, but just enough to break the loyalty they have to a Great Plan no one understands. This is how both Neil’s American Gods and Terry’s Small Gods conclude, with the build-up to an incredible battle, and then for the human hero to step in and talk down the gods and armies into seeing sense and reason.

I don’t think Aziraphale himself will be that person. It might be a very human Jesus. Or (more likely) a random human being caught up in this craziness (maybe someone in Tadfield, per the working title of the second GO book: 668: The Neighbor of the Beast). But Aziraphale will be fundamental in changing the atmosphere of Heaven in the little ways Earth changed him.

🗝 Season 3 Themes: Morality and God

In the Job minisode, Aziraphale casually but boldly assumed that god didn’t want the goats and children to be killed. Because Aziraphale has a firm and dogged idea about what god should be. It’s his own personal morality, but he calls it god’s because he doesn’t want to imagine the symbol of ultimate goodness being anything other than what he Aziraphale himself feels to be true.

And I don’t think that’s a theme that Good Omens will deny for Aziraphale. Because it’s not really about how evil or good god is. It doesn’t matter what god thinks or is. god doesn’t answer questions, doesn’t deliver messages we can understand, doesn’t show up when needed. god is inscrutable, shifty, absent, “a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.”

What’s important is what humanity has done with god, what humanity has said about god, what they do in god’s name, what they interpret god to be. That’s the real danger.

And Aziraphale, in his profound goodness, will become the person he wants god to be. Because that’s the injunction we all have. To live up to the ideal we have made for ourselves: In many ways, that’s what god is.

Aziraphale is now in a privileged place that allows him to affect basically the entirety of Creation with that driving idealism. He will level the playing field in Heaven. I firmly believe Aziraphale will be the one to close the doors to the pearly gates and throw away the key.

So, like you asked Anon, will Aziraphale try to make Heaven better or stop the Second Coming? I think those are the same goal. Changing Heaven will fundamentally change how the Second Coming happens, because just like the End Times in Season 1, Heaven and Hell’s scheme will be turned on its head because the Chosen One refuses to follow the script.

The Second Coming will end, not with a bang, but a whimper, because everyone decides to turn in their guns and forget the whole thing.

⚔️ Heaven and Hell v. Humanity

But before that ending happens, I think there will be another threat the world has to face: the individuals who are so sure of their own righteousness that no amount of sense could stop them from destroying anyone who thinks differently. This is an important theme in both Neil and Terry’s works (see Vorbis, the Exquisitor in Small Gods, who tortured unbelievers for the Church), and I believe it will show up in the new season.

There's never been a true war that wasn't fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous. –Neil Gaiman, American Gods

Because it’s humanity who takes Faith and shapes it into Religion. We are the ones who created the Heaven we see in GO: cold, unfeeling, strict, judgmental. And I think Season 3 is going to address this fundamental belief of both Neil and Terry: that humans are just so damnably human (fundamentally innocent and stupid and wonderful) and yet there’s a few of us who will take things too far and think that Someone wants them to destroy everything in the Name of God. And in these changing contemporary political times (the passage of an old generation, still clinging to their old ways and growing more extreme by the minute *cough*Trump*cough*), the dangerous people become even more vocal and violent, like the frightening, monstrous creature in WB Yeats’ poem “The Second Coming,” a devastating scourge on the world born in the name of God:

Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. […] A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, […] And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? –WB Yeats, "The Second Coming"

That’s who I think the Metatron will team up with in the end, someone like Vorbis. Because we’ve already seen how petty and small Heaven and Hell is, especially in Season 2. Only the Metatron really carries some heft and foreboding. I believe he’ll team up with some extremist faction of humanity who wants to see the End of Days and divide the world into Yours and Mine, with Heaven taking a portion and Hell taking a third and calling it a day. Not a War, but a divvying out of souls. With no consent or permission on the part of humanity.

That’s what I think the zombie reference is all about. Like Gabriel said in 2x03:

Yes, we’re going to get zombies. And it’s going to be insane and funny and horrifying (and I think we’ll get to know one or two historical figures who pop back up to earth). But the thematic and fundamental metaphor of zombies is how they have no free will. They’re not alive, they have no souls, they have no choices. That’s what Heaven and Hell want humanity to be: To do away with the dance of choice and free will and divide humanity once and for all between both sides. That’s how Heaven and Hell team up against the human race.

🐳 Leviathan (Job 41:19) as Humanity

And that’s how I believe the Leviathan fits in, who is the subject of the quote from Muriel’s matchbox:

The Leviathan is a magnificent creature, and this passage goes on and on about how fearsome this being is:

Who can penetrate its double coat of armor? Who dares open the doors of its mouth, ringed about with fearsome teeth?… Nothing on earth is its equal—a creature without fear. It looks down on all that are haughty; it is king over all that are proud –Job 41:13b, 33-34

And yet why does god want to explain how amazing the Leviathan is? To show how god has control of it. God says,

Can you pull in Leviathan with a fishhook… Can you make a pet of it like a bird or put it on a leash for the young women in your house?… Can you fill its hide with harpoons… No one is fierce enough to rouse it. Who then is able to stand against me? –Job 41:1, 5, 7, 10

The reasoning is that because god created this dangerous and terrifying being, then god must be even more dangerous and terrifying. And if god can so easily abuse and humiliate this beautiful monster, then god must be worshipped and respected. (Yes, it’s as messed-up as it sounds.)

I can’t help but think of this Leviathan as a metaphor for humanity. A beautiful, ferocious being whose ownership and control is the focus of god’s attention and qualification for worship? Of the Leviathan, Job says: “Will traders barter for it? Will they divide it up among the merchants?” (Job 41:6). That’s how humanity is going to be treated in Season 3.

Because both God and Satan want to control humanity. They want to put their thumb on human souls and claim them for each side. But humanity doesn’t have to be so easily fooled, because we are more powerful than we realize. Our hearts and imaginations can forge a path of purpose and goodness without the entrapment of organized religion and fundamentalism. We, like Leviathan, are ferocious and angry and fed up with being treated like this. We can and will fight back.

🌟 Becoming Gods

Ultimately, we will shuffle off the need for Heaven and Hell (symbolized by the shutting down of both at the end of Season 3). We will lose the need to unquestionably defer to a Being who plays dice with our lives. I’m reminded of the opening passage to Terry’s Small Gods:

The lowly tortoise will learn to be the eagle; humanity will learn to be like god. Because we are as powerful as god, since we created god. Adam Young pointed out that having a god figure to solve all our problems doesn’t make humanity any more responsible for the evil things we’ve done. We need to learn that we are all we’ve got, and we have to answer for the shit we’ve done to each other and to the world.

I like how Russell T Davies put it in his show The Second Coming, where Jesus comes down again in the body of ordinary human Steven Baxter and tells humanity:

You are becoming gods. There's a new master of creation, and it's you! Unraveled DNA, and at the same time you're cultivating bacteria strong enough to kill every living thing! Do you think you are ready for that much power? You lot? You lot? Cheeky bastards. You're running around science like kids with guns, creating a new world, while the world you've got is stinking…. If you want the position of god then take the responsibility. –Russell T Davies, The Second Coming

youtube

I legitimately think that’s how Jesus in Good Omens 3 will come down. In the body of a regular 30-something off-the-streets guy, who thinks the pomp and circumstance made about him is insane. And Aziraphale will be his minder, trying to tell him how the whole scheme is supposed to play out and giving him wise asides on how warped Heaven’s standards are and trying to tell him how to go about changing things for the better. (Jesus will be terribly confused, meanwhile; he just wants to go out for a pint and get on with his human life, none of this god business.)

🐍 Crowley’s Growth

There will be some big things at play in Season 3. I think Aziraphale will change how Heaven operates and close Heaven for good. I think Aziraphale will initially try to get Jesus on board with Azi’s own private mission of Goodness. I actually think Crowley will end up becoming Aziraphale’s “back channels” to Earth, and they’d exchange trite, bantering messages about the state of affairs from secret rendezvous points in America. (There was a whole thing about Jesus getting lost in Times Square, according to Neil Gaiman.)

I think Crowley will learn how to trust Aziraphale and learn that doing the right thing means being brave and selfless. He’ll realize that humanity is worth saving, even if it means dying. In fact, his depression at the start of Season 2 will probably only get worse after the loss of Aziraphale, and his altruism might get colored by the taint of suicidal recklessness, because he might as well go out for what he believes in, if what he wanted most in the world chose being selfless over being with him. (If Crowley’s character takes a suicidal turn like the Tenth Doctor after losing Rose, I’m gonna scream.)

This is how Aziraphale helps Crowley be brave in the finale of the Good Omens book. That’s what I think will happen in Good Omens 3:

Aziraphale here displays a gentleness and kindness that comes from a place of grounded knowledge and responsibility. He knows how much he and Crowley have in their own ways fucked up humanity too, and he knows that no matter what their own personal feelings, they each need to do something to defend the human species they've come to love so much.

Crowley is scared of risking everything to help save humanity, but with Aziraphale's encouragement and wisdom, he realizes that doing the right thing is the only option he can choose, no matter the risk to his own happiness and safety.

So I believe Crowley will learn to understand why Aziraphale chose to return to Heaven and fight in the trenches. Crowley will see it as a choice made to save, not just each other, but the world they love so much.

Ultimately, I think Crowley on earth will take on Aziraphale’s strongest qualities: being selfless and bold to protect humanity at costs, and connecting to humanity on a personal, individual level.

While Aziraphale in Heaven will become like Crowley: asking questions, sabotaging the System, and condemning Heaven with all the uncomfortable truths they need to hear.

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pppeachyyys · 1 year

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✩ nagi as a bf >>

✩ relationships with nagi seishiro would be very laidback. he's known to be lazy, so you're in luck if you're introverted just like him.

✩ most dates are at home; he loves watching movies, cooking together, having at-home spa days, and just generally staying home with you all day long.

✩ nagi secretly LOVES when you pamper him or just decorate him with cute accessories. (never admits to it though) he loves the way you squeal at how cute he is with his painted nails and bows in his hair.

✩ he's obsessed whenever you do skincare on him, your hands on his face, thighs wrapped around his waist, and the way you're so close that he could just kiss you right then and there.

✩ i like to believe that nagis big on physical touch and words of affirmation. he's never not touching you and loves to ramble about how much he loves you.

✩ since he lives alone, you spend a lot of your time at his place.

✩ it's become so often that parts of you would remain in his house. an extra toothbrush, a small set of makeup in the corner of his restroom, a pillow right next to his own, and your shirts are neatly placed in it's own spot in his closet.

✩ never shuts up about you. ESPECIALLY to reo and he's tired of it 😭

✩ "oh y/n would love this. speaking of y/n, they actually came over yesterday and cooked some really good food for me. they even fed me cause eating's such a hassle."

✩ "nagi respectfully shut up because everyone on the team is going to strangle you."

✩ also never shuts up about you in interviews for soccer. if your relationship is public, he gladly let's everyone know you're his. if it's private, he'll give off signs that you already took his heart.

✩ "what are your plans for the future nagi ? you're already such an amazing player and the crowd is wondering what your next step is to become the worlds best striker."

✩ "well, i plan on marrying y/n which sounds like a good start to me."

✩ "nagi, they're asking about soccer."

✩ the BIGGEST BABY OHKYGOD. he loves pouting to you cause he knows you can't resist when he's touching you everywhere with the cutest eyes.

✩ super needy 24/7. follows you around everywhere too.

✩ going to the restroom ? nagis already in there waiting for you. oh you're going to check the mail ? he's following you like a puppy. going to bed ? it's his bedtime too.

✩ his affection can be a bit too overwhelming sometimes, especially when you aren't in the mood for his hugs and kisses.

✩ it's hard to communicate with him at first since he's so lazy and has a reluctant mindset, so the first few months of the relationship is a bit rocky.

✩ as you progress though, dating him is generally something you love and becomes something extremely special to both you and him.

✩ he loves giving you his clothing. it let's him know that you truly do belong to him. (and he likes how it smells like you after)

✩ speaking of smell, i think nagi has a distinct scent of laundry that is also unique to him. he smells comforting and light.

✩ you get him anything that is matching and he's keeping it with him forever. that keychain you gave him is now permanently part of his school bag. the bracelet made of strings is literally rotting but it's still tight on his wrist. regularly stares at your matching phone cases because it gets him all giddy.

✩ doesn't use petnames too often but when he does, it's usually angel or pretty. he loves calling you things that are related to beauty since he thinks you're the most gorgeous being alive.

✩ ugh i just want him so bad

#bllk imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #blue lock hcs #bllk hc #bllk headcanons #nagi #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #bllk x you #blue lock x you #gn reader

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luvyeni · 9 months

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CONSEQUENCES OF A ONE NIGHT STAND. ( chapter. 14)

— CHAPTER FOURTEEN: telling the parents (fail) ...

— 𖦹 warnings?

previous - next - masterlist

"jungwon , stop complaining." his mother rolled her eyes , sitting the food down on the table. "im just saying i can't believe i had to sleep on the air mattress." you laughed at your bestfriend , all these years later and he still whined to his parents.

"because she's pregnant jungwon , she can't sleep on the air mattress." you smiled cheekily , of course you could've slept on the air mattress , you planned on doing so , giving your bestfriend his bed back — you just wanted to piss him off. "my name isn't jake , he's the one that got her pregnant , not me."

"jungwon enough, eat your breakfast " you stuck your tongue out , your phone rang , you picked it up , reading the daily good morning text and check up from jake. you smiled , texting him back. "speaking of the devil." jungwon said. "look at that smile , for someone who claims they're just in it for the baby , you surely are cheesing hella hard." you rolled your eyes. "hush up , it was only a good morning text."

"i just can't believe you're with child , jakes none the less." jungwons mom fed you more food. "he is a wild one , i was surpised when wonie brung him home during spring break."

"well as long as he helps out with the baby , he's free to do whatever he wants , date whoever he wants." you said , something in the back of your head saying you didn't really mean that , but you pushed it down. "now that i think about it." jungwon started. "i don't think i've seen or heard him talk about another girl , for the month it's been all about you and the baby in the group chat , i almost kicked him out because of it."

"you're a professional hater , you know that right?" he smiled. "like it's a full time job."

"you're gonna tell your parents today right?" his mom spoke up , you sighed nodded. "how do you think they'll take it." you shrugged. "horrible if my predictions are correct." you never got along with your parents , being the oldest sibling , your parents always set the standards at a unreachable level , and would get mad when you would fail.

your younger sister on the other hand — being the baby and all , was treated with love and care , given everything she wanted , even if her grade were horrible. when she turned 18 for her graduation present wanted to travel to europe for a year with her friends , your parents funded the whole trip. when you were 18 you asked them to help you with your books for college , they said they were already paying for half your tuition and they couldn't do it.

when your sister said she didn't want to go to college like they pressured you into doing , but instead she wanted to be a youtuber , they bought her an entire set up that cost thousands of dollars , but when you asked could they help you with the down payment for your cafe , they refused , if it wasn't for jungwons parents you would've probably be in debt.

it's safe to say you've pretty much cut contact with them , and now you have a successful cafe , and they're still financially supporting your sister who is now an adult.

"well you are always welcomed here , that baby will always have a home here." you smiled , standing up to hug the woman who was more like your mother than your actually mother. "thank you , so much for that."

"we don't have to be at your parents house for dinner until 8 , so we have time." jungwon said. "wonie , how about you let ( name ) handle this on her own." mrs. yang spoke , washing the dishes. "what the hell am i supposed to do then?" he said. "uh spend time with your mother."

you grabbed his hand reassuringly. "she's right , i can do it on my own , spend time for your mom , it's not every day you visit her." he nodded. "if that's what you want bubs , then i guess i can stay here and wait , text karina and make sure sunoo is doing his job." you hugged him. "i'll be fine i swear."

after helping with the chores , you decides to finally suck it up and get dressed — thinking of multiple ways you could tell your parents , each resulting in them being horrible as the next. "where are my car keys?" you paced back and forth. "you mean the ones in your hand?" you looked down , sighing. "you don't have to do this alone." he said. "i do , i just need to get it over with." you slipped your shoes on.

"okay." you huffed , finally ready to leave. "i'm gonna go now." you took one of his sweaters. "make sure they aren't burning my store down." he reassured you , pushing you out the door "okay , okay go , you're late." he said. "good luck honey." mrs.yang yelled , you thanked her knowing you'll definitely need it.

after 25 minute drive to your house , and 15 wait outside your door , you finally worked up the courage to get out of the car , walking to the door , knocking on the door. you heard the old family dog barking , before silence , the unlocking of the locks nerve wracking , the door swinging open. "you're late."

you and your sister stared each other down. "you look fat." she turned , letting you walk into the house. "take your shoes off , the mother just cleaned." you complied , deciding not to argue. "i did live here at one point."

you bent down , petting the old dog , who jumped at your side. "hi girl , it's been a while." you let her lick your palm. "everyone is in the dining area."

you let out a inhale , exhaling before walking into the dining area. "next time call when you're gonna be late." your sister sat down , you could tell this was not gonna be easy. "me and jungwon got caught up." you sat down. "of course , you spend more time with that boy than you do your own family." your mom passed out the dishes.

"well im surprised you even noticed." you said. "are you talking back?" you shook your head. "no mother."

the dinner went by just as you suspected , your family saying sly comments about you and your life , and you praying to god to escape — almost calling it quits and leaving many times. "can we just stop beating around the bush." your sister said.

"it's been 4 years since you left , you've block everyone on social media , we have to hear from mrs.yang about you , so why are you here?" you guess it was time , sitting down your utensils , sighing. "well i came because i have something to tell you."

"is it about your business? because we've already told you we're not- i didn't come here because i need something , my god can you just listen for a second." you snapped , making them go silent , you huffed , before speaking.

"well." you gulped , i just wanted to tell you guys that , i am pregnant." you watched their eyes widen , before your mom sat her utensils down. "pregnant?" she questioned. "yes."

it was so silent , you thought that they could hear your heart beating out of your chest. "can't say im surprised." your mom said. "what does that mean?" you scoffed. "you've always been know to make stupid decisions." she said. "it was only a matter of time before you gotten yourself pregnant." "do you know the baby's daddy? is he your boyfriend? why isn't he here?" your sister spoke.

"of course i know him , and no jake isn't my boyfriend." you said. "you're having a baby with someone you're not even with." your sister shook her head. "so it was a mistake?" you were growing annoyed. "does that matter, the baby is coming regardless."

"you didn't think to get rid of it?" you scoffed at your mother. "are you serious right now?" you said. "i should've come here." you stood up. "what are you gonna do now?" your dad said. "gonna come crawling back to us for money , much like before with the cafe , you can't keep asking the yangs for money , they'll eventually get tired of you."

you scoffed , more liked laughed. "that's what you think?" you nodded. "my shop is doing way better." you said. "i didn't come here for money , i just came to check something." you said. "guess i was right." you walked out of the kitchen.

"i won't be back again." was all you said before you grabbed your shoes , walking out the house to your car. you climbed into the car , driving off , and you just kept driving , straight past the yangs house , you couldn't stay in your home town any longer.

— ( taglist. CLOSED ) @j-wyoung @whoslai @cha0thicpisces @sunsunl0ver @wonyoungsvirus @omgtintarr @en-dazed @kwiwin @httpsrinrin @igotkpoops @enhaz1 @ahnneyong @electrobutterfly @nes-caf @beomgyusonlywife @jup1t3r-y30n @gyulune @mixtape-racha @ddazed-lhs @shuichi-sama @chaelinhhwang @stariszn @rikisly @ilikekpop-c @jenjnk @ilovehimyourhonour @peachyun02 @primroselover @sxurgrapes

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smau #jake x reader #jake sim fanfic #jake sim x reader #jake sim smau #enhypen x female reader #jake smau

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gucciwins · 1 year

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worth the risk

Y/N attends the Golden Globes and has lots of questions to answer

word count: 2738

a/n: hola amores!!!!! this series has been so much fun to write! happy reading. let me know what you want to see next :D

part one // part two

“You know what to say when they ask,” Bee reminds you as you sit in your makeup chair, letting the glam team do their job. You’re going for an elegant but simple look that the cameras will be able to capture. You loved wearing bold red lipstick, but for tonight you were doing a pink shade, a touch darker than your natural lip color, to allow the jewelry you are wearing tonight to speak for you on the carpet.

“Yup,” you frown at the mirror where you can see Bee taping away on her iPhone. “I will tell them I let him take me to his house and have his way with me.”

“Y/N!” Bee hisses. “Be serious.”

You’re fed up with all this information for one meeting with Harry. It started as a date, but you doubt anything more will come of it now due to all this unnecessary drama. There hasn’t been a chance for you or Harry to talk about what you’re both looking for in a relationship or if you were interested in seeing each other again.

“Yes, I know.” You take a sip of your chamomile tea, trying to relax. “I’ll say we had coffee, and he’s even nicer in person.”

Bee sets her phone down, able to pick up on your bitterness. “If you had let me know you were going to meet him, we could have prevented this.”

You don’t regret meeting Harry because you got to spend a carefree afternoon with him. It did lead to unprecedented changes in your plans. You think back to sitting in an office instead of Harry’s house for dinner like you had planned.

The office was cold, and the tension in the room was high. Harry sat to your left, and Bee and Jeff, your managers in front of you, stern looks on both their faces. It reminded you of when your parents sat you down and gave you an hour lecture about sneaking out. The talk was so boring you never snuck out again.

“There are pap pics of you everywhere,” Jeff informs you.

It is evident to you where this conversation is headed.

You feel yourself shrink into your chair. This is not something you had planned. Neither did Harry. After your “date,” you planned to meet the following day at five pm, where Harry would have food waiting, and you’d arrive with store-bought wine. You were driving to his house when you got the call. Harry was quick to inform you he had an urgent meeting to attend, and you shared that you did as well. The dots clicked much faster than you liked.

Bee explained that there was no way to stop the photos from going out. This was simply a warning to them to prepare statements if necessary.

“We’ll cut Y/N’s trip short, get her back to America,” Bee tells Jeff as if you weren’t even there able to make a choice for yourself.

“Hey, I’m supposed to visit my sister and my nephew,” you argue.

Bee sighs, knowing you’re right. You haven’t been able to visit them, and it’s all you talked about on your flight. “Call her and ask her to see you tomorrow. You’re coming back in February.”

Bee dismissed your concerns, but you were thankful for the extra day. Jeff pulled out a tablet to show you the photos. There is nothing scandalous. It’s you and Harry facing each other with similar smiles. The last photo is the one that you know is the one that caused all this ruckus. Harry is photographed kissing your cheek. It’s friendly. Nothing to signify more happened or that it was a date. It was simply two friends getting coffee.

“Are you putting out a statement?” Harry asks.

“No, Harry. What for?” Jeff deadpans.

You see Harry frown, but he doesn’t fight his manager because this is Harry’s MO, ignore and move on. You’re not used to this. Sure, you’ve had articles written about you, but you have always been the sole focus, not you being linked to Harry Styles.

“Does Harry have anything to announce? Take away the focus from the photos when they drop.” Bee is always ten steps ahead, and here is another time.

“We have yet to announce his LA opening act,” Jeff offers. He looks towards Harry, who sits there pensive. Harry looks like he would rather be anywhere else than here.

“Wet Leg would be a good distraction,” Harry tells Jeff shrugging as if he’s used to all this fuss.

Distraction.

You were taking this too personally. Harry didn't owe you anything. He didn’t have to say he was simply having coffee with a friend. You were not allowed to say a word because you were insignificant compared to Harry’s world and fame.

It did not feel nice, and you were ready to return to your hotel.

“Y/N has the Golden Globes press in a few days. We’ll officially blacklist his name.”

You sit there, letting Bee take control of your life. You had forgotten this part of fame. You knew it was too soon for you and Harry to be protecting each other. You went on one date. There was not enough time for feelings to grow, but you did wish things were different because you’re certain after today’s fiascos, you’d no longer be hearing from Harry.

Bee bid her goodbyes as she took a phone call, and you took that as your cue to leave. You wished both men well and hurried into the elevator, eager to get out of the building and hopefully never return.

“Y/N, wait.” A body slips through the elevator doors, and you’re startled to see Harry.

He has a shy look, and you know this is awful for both of you. You had been lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t see how this affected him or how often he must do this with his team to protect his image but mostly his privacy.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. You shake your head to stop him, but he keeps going. “You’re getting the brunt of everything being in interviews and red carpets while I can hide at home.”

He has a point.

“It’ll be fine,” you brush him off, pressing the first floor of the elevator. “Well, I hope,” you joke.

Harry clears his throat, “I was looking forward to this evening.”

You feel your face flush, not having expected to hear him say that. “Really?”

“Mhm…I-I really enjoy your company,’ he whispers in a low voice, careful to keep his focus on you.

You nod, “ditto.”

Harry hears the ding of the elevator, and as he waits for the doors to open, he does something that could get both of them into deeper water, but he doesn’t seem to care. “W-would you still want to come over?”

You turn to look at him, “didn’t we just get told not to see or speak about each other.”

Harry shrugs, “I was never one for following the rules.”

You sigh in disbelief.

“Plus,” he adds on. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them?”

At that moment, you decided that Harry was worth the risk.

Red carpets were overwhelming, and you were looking forward to reaching the end and allowing yourself to have endless drinks of champagne, but before all of that, there were interviews to get through. You were dressed in a glamorous black and white gown by Carolina Herrera with Tiffany & Co. jewels with Christian Louboutin heels. You were going for an old Hollywood look, and your team helped you deliver. Dani, your stylist, knew it would be a stunner on the carpet.

The carpet was full of artists you loved and admired. Your co-stars would stop you for a chat and have you pose for a few photos. It was the most fun complimenting others on their look of the night, but it was mostly amazing to talk about the shows and movies that were being honored tonight.

The first interview went smoothly. It was simple questions of who you were wearing and what was in your bag kind of interview. You knew if the others continued like this, you would be fine.

Maeve, your wonderful assistant, you’d go as far as to call her a close friend now led you to the next interviewer. Reece was someone you immediately felt at ease with for some reason. You had heard about how they began their career on social media and grew it to what it was today, being able to interview on red carpets and work behind the scenes of different productions. He was courteous in greeting you and complimenting your outfit, and you did the same in return.

Reece smiled at the camera before turning his attention back to you. “Alright, I’m going to ask you Globe related questions.”

“Sounds perfect,” you place your hands over your stomach, making sure your shoulders are pushed back and that you’re camera ready even though you know the camera has been recording from the moment you made it to his side.

“Are there any shows or movies from this past year that were your favorites?” Reece asks.

“Besides my two shows,” you tease. “Abbot Elementary and The Bear were my standouts. For movies, it’s clearly Everything Everywhere All At Once and The Fabelmans,” you gush. The answer was one you did not have to think about. You’ve been doing your best to keep up with all the new movies and shows released last year.

“You have amazing taste,” Reece tells you. He continues on to the following questions. “Any world that has been in movies or shows in the past year that you would actually live to live in?”

You laugh, “too easy I would love to be neighbors with Selena Gomez, also known as Mabel in New York. I’d be such a big fan of the podcast.”

“That would be fun, even with all the murders,” he comments.

It’s easy to settle your nerves in front of a camera, but you’re itching to answer the last few questions. “Is there a favorite line reading you've loved?”

This one comes to you quickly. “Ah, it has to be Angela Bassett “I am Queen of the most powerful nation in the world! And my entire family is gone! Have I not given everything?””

Reece places a hand over his heart. “Hits too close to home. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course, Reece. Have a nice evening.”

He shakes your hand but holds it for a second. “Sorry, one last question, please.”

You decided to indulge him and gesture for him to go on.

“One last question then, favorite spiderman?”

You fake a gasp. “Stop, how dare you. I love all three of them. All are so special.” You mean honestly. “But Andrew holds a special place in my heart. He’s my best friend. Sorry to Tommy and Tobie.” Andrew is someone you met during a film festival, and you instantly clicked. He’s that older brother you always wanted, and now he’s someone you go to when you need support when the industry can get too much.

“Well, Y/N have a wonderful evening,” Reece bids you goodbye, and off you go.

“You too, Reece.” You mean it genuinely. “It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

Maeve assures you it went well and gestures for you to keep walking. You stop for more photos and are on your way to your next interview when you run into Jennifer Coolidge. She wraps you in a big hug and poses with you for everyone screaming her name. She sends you off with a kiss and a promise to see you inside. Tyler James William is someone you approach because you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t. You stand in the middle of the carpet, gushing over each other, and it isn’t until you’re both being ushered away that he promises to get in touch soon.

Jean Smart, your co-star in Hacks screams as soon as she sees you. Jean is your favorite person, and you’re quick to let her sweep you away. It’s easy to get lost in conversation, forgetting where you are, and she promises to see you inside soon, seeing as you’re seatmates. It’s an honor to be nominated for such a prestigious award, but you already know there is no award going home with you today, and that’s okay because your time will come.

You’re guided to one final interview with the one and only Amelia Dimz.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” She greets with a red carpet smile.

“Good, thank you very much.” You take a second to look her over, and you know you have to say something because she looks absolutely smashing. “Can I say you look stunning?”

Amelia laughs, slapping you, lighting with her cards. “Stop, or I’m going to have you take me on a date.”

You shrug, “I would not mind at all.”

“I have invited you to eat some chicken with me,” she tells you accusingly.

“Have received no such news. We’ll be in touch,” you promise, making sure to give Maeve a look to look into the chicken shop date for when you’re in London in February.

“Alright, alright. What’s your dating advice for me?” Amelia asks, patiently waiting for your response.

You think it over for a second, look at the camera, then back to Amelia. “Date me,” you say with a smile.

“Oh,” Amelia blushes, losing her train of thought for a second.

“Back to your question,” you tell her, giving her a minute to compose herself. “Put yourself first. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

She thanked you, her cheeks flushed but continued on. “Do you have any fashion advice?”

You rock on your heels and shrug. “Be comfortable.”

“Right, thank you, Y/N.” She leans in to give you a hug. “One final question,” she whispers. She is giving you the option to say no.

You know what she wants to ask and fuck it, you find yourself nodding yes. Bee has always said she loves a good headline on nights like tonight.

“You were seen out getting coffee recently with a certain English man,” Amelia is careful not to mention his name, but everyone will be able to connect the dots rather quickly. “Do you consider coffee with someone a date, or is that too casual?”

You can answer this one of two ways. There is Bee’s answer where you’re vague, or you can do it your way and create a bit of fun for fans at home and yourself.

“Depends on the company, absolutely.” You share, you’re biting back a grin making sure not to look over at Maeve, who looks ready to drag you away. “If it’s an English man asking you for coffee, it’s absolutely a date.”

Amelia turns to the camera and shakes her head laughing. “Well, there you have it.”

You flash the camera with a big smile and wink. “Bye, Amelia, hope to see you soon.”

You breeze through the last bit of the carpet, waving at the final cameras as you reach the safe space where your every move is no longer being followed. Maeve grumbles how Bee will have both your heads, but you’re having too much fun to care. Maeve hands you your phone, telling you it has been buzzing for a while.

You ignore messages from Bee and your sister and go straight to the newest message from your contact, Harry, with a purple heart. He thought you should give him a fake name, but you’d never because you know your phone's privacy is entirely yours.

Harry 💜

You look gorgeous.

I’m really jealous of everyone seeing you in that dress in person.

I hope you enjoy your night.

I know you must be getting date offers left and right please reject them.

I’ll be in LA in a few weeks.

Dinner and wine at my house when I arrive?

You laugh because Harry is smooth. After dinner at his house, you both decided to take back a bit of control in your life and would continue to see each other behind closed doors. This was just Harry confirming the plans you had set in London.

Y/N

It’s a date.

Not all secrets were bad, especially ones that were as pretty as Harry.

#harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry fluff #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fic rec #angst

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ladytesla · 3 months

Text

Cowboy Halsin

I saw @aerynwrites musing about how Halsin would be as a cowboy or rancher. I thought I'd throw in my two cents, since I live on a farm myself.

There's more to it than just seeing Halsin speaking softly to horses, as awesome a sight as that would be. There's more to living out in the country than horses, believe me. This kind of morphed into Country Halsin and not Cowboy Halsin, but I hope y'all like it anyway. Let's go through a day in the life, shall we?

Halsin would probably be up before dawn, kissing your cheek before getting out of bed as carefully as possible, trying not to wake you. You have your own goals to accomplish today, he wants to let you wake up on your own.

Besides, he loves the stillness just before the sun rises. The nocturnal creatures are seeking their nests and burrows, the diurnal ones have yet to wake. This solitary commune with nature is one of the highlights of his day, listening to the wind in the leaves, the crickets and the frogs. It is a very referent time of morning that seems to stretch for ages and at the same time end far too soon.

As he reaches the barn, the day officially begins. Animals need to be fed. Mostly they graze in the pasture, but some need special treatment. An old swaybacked mare needs a little something extra to keep her weight up. Maybe there's a colt who managed to hurt himself somehow, and the wound needs to be tended to. Maybe it's cold outside, so he throws out alfalfa with the hay. Alfalfa is also called 'hot hay' because it raises an animal's body temperature, which is a great trick for winter.

He speaks to the horses as he works, maybe fondly berating the colt for being so clumsy in his excitement, or encouraging the mare to eat everything he's set out for her, smoothing a large hand down her side and smiling to himself when he feels her ribs much more faintly than he used to. One of the horses who is usually waiting in the mornings isn't there... that's a bit odd. He'll turn up eventually. The chickens milling around outside have heard his voice and know The One Who Feeds Them has arrived, so they peek around and wander into the barn themselves, waiting very impatiently. The goats in another small paddock nearby are just as impatient. They start yelling and bleating as if they're starving to death and He Is A Cruel And Unjust Father And They Are Going To Scream.

He likes hearing the chickens chatter as he scatters out feed for them. They don't have anything of real importance to say, but they never stop talking. Mostly it's "Food! Food! Food! Bug? Food! Scratch. Peck. Scratch. Bug!" in a dozen warbling little voices. He brought a bag of veggie scraps from last night's dinner with him to throw to the goats, which stops them yelling. "I don't think the neighbors heard you yet," he would say dryly as he throws hay to them as well. Sometimes they headbutt each other for access to the best morsels, and while he wants to prevent this to keep anyone from getting injured, he knows it's in their nature. He keeps an eye on the smallest and oldest, however, making sure they get their fair share. The twin kids born last week toddle after their mother like baby ducks. It seems like she has enough milk for both of them, though he still has powdered formula and bottles from the last kidding season, just in case they're needed once more.

Now that everyone's been fed, it's time to walk the fences, looking for that missing horse in the process. A lesser known but very important job when it comes to country life. Any breaks could not only let animals out, but predators in. He'd keep an eye out for signs of predators nearby. He hasn't seen any today, but he heard coyotes crying out in the darkness the night before. By this time of morning, though, he has company. You've made your appearance, bleary-eyed and handing him an insulated cup of coffee. You're already on your second.

The fog from earlier hasn't been burned off completely by the sun yet. It's a quiet time for the two of you to walk the property lines together. Halsin is a bit concerned about that horse. He hasn't shown up yet. Soon, though, he sees a silhouette in the last bits of fog, and sighs with relief. The horse isn't lying down from illness, he's just... trapped. The two of you look at this big strong chestnut gelding, eyes rolling and sides heaving, barricaded in the corner of the pasture because... there's a rabbit in the way. A fat little gray-brown bunny, nibbling delicately at the grass without a care in the world. Truly a terrifying sight to behold.

"Arthur we've spoken about this," Halsin sighs as he walks closer to the horse. "Rabbits can't hurt you. They eat plants, and they're tiny. Look!"

Still, Arthur isn't convinced. Halsin soothes him, stroking his nose and smiling to himself at the absurdity of it.

"My heart," he glances to you, "please convince our visitor to release Arthur."

You smile as you shuffle closer to the rabbit, gently shooing it back through the fence. Now that Arthur is out of mortal peril, he happily walks off towards the barn.

"They're majestic creatures," Halsin admits, "but sometimes..." He shakes his head, then keeps walking the fence. "Come on, my love... we're only halfway."

~~~

A round bale is delivered around lunchtime. The thing is as tall as you and just as wide and weighs an ungodly amount. But it needs to go out into the pasture somehow. Moving a round bale is a two-person job. Your job is to hold the gate open and keep the curious horses at bay... and to watch as Halsin, sleeves rolled up and muscles bulging, easily rolls it into the paddock as though it weighs nothing. He barely has time to set the feeder ring around it before the horses are nosing greedily at the fresh hay.

"I wish I could help more," you say as you close the gate.

"You help plenty," he replies, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Besides..." There's a faint glint of mischief in his eyes. "I've flattered myself into thinking you like to watch."

You grin and say he's being ridiculous, but you both know the truth.

~~~

As active a man as he is, Halsin isn't content to spend the heat of the day indoors. There are still so many things to be done. Bird feeders to fill. Eggs to collect from the chickens. The vegetable garden to water and weed. Water troughs to top up. Finally, there's a little time to take a break. Sometimes you have other things on your schedule, but today you decide to join him. The two of you find a shady spot under a tree and settle in with a book, some whittling, perhaps a snack, and you let yourselves get lost in nature. The afternoon sounds are different from the early morning ones. There are no crickets or frogs, no reverent stillness. Now there are raucous little songbirds fighting over birdseed, the chatter of a squirrel, the crow of the rooster, maybe even the far-off braying of a neighbor's donkey a quarter mile away. The windchimes you hung from the back porch. And underneath it all, the wind humming in the trees. Halsin leans back against the rough bark of the tree, closes his eyes, and feels the undercurrent of life running through all things. You can't help but admire the sheer expression of peace and happiness on his face, and set your little diversions aside to lean your head on his shoulder. His arm instictively wraps around you to pull you closer against him, and you enjoy simply existing as part of nature for a while.

~~~

The sun is about to set, casting mile-long shadows and lighting up the fields like gold. It's nearing time to go inside and help make dinner. But first the old mare and the colt need to be tended to once more. Another helping of special feed for the mare, sequestering her in her stall so that she can eat in peace without a certain someone (whose name may or may not be Arthur} attempting to share. The colt's wound is healing nicely, and Halsin digs in his pocket for a cookie in exchange for the colt standing still enough to be treated. He tosses another cookie to Arthur who protests that he too needs special food because he is a special boy.

He comes inside to clean up and help with dinner. He'll need to go back out in an hour or so to let the mare out of her stall, but in the meantime he's happy to be in your company as you maneuver around each other in the kitchen. If you're cooking, it may be a bit difficult with those big arms around you from behind. The two of you have been busy all day, and now that you're done with your work, he has decided to make things a little difficult.

"Love, please, I need to get to the spice cabinet." "I can reach it just fine. Tell me what you need."

"Halsin, I can't work with you right behind me like this!" "I fail to see how this is a problem, my heart. I'm having a wonderful time."

Halsin is normally a mild-mannered type, but his sense of humor sneaks out in sly ways from time to time. At least he hasn't broken out the horrible puns yet. And you have to admit, it's nice to be able to feel his deep voice resonate against your back.

Halsin is ready to sleep when it's time for bed (as long as you are too, of course. He's always up for 'extracurricular activities' if the mood is right). "We did well today, my heart," he says quietly in the darkness, pulling you close. "Pleasant dreams." He can hear the faint sounds of frogs and crickets outside your window, and that coupled with your soft breathing is enough to lull him into a deep sleep.

Was it a long day full of hard work? Yes.

Would he trade away any of it? Never.

#aerynwrites I hope you like it #I'm sick today so I'm writing when I should be sleeping #I like to live dangerously #never thought living on a farm would help me write fanfiction #no ducks on this farm because he thinks ducks belong in the rivers and ponds #so don't come at me with 'but where are the ducks'#they're in the lake not on the farm #no cows either because I don't know much about caring for them so.#halsin silverbough #my writing #bg3 fanfiction #halsin bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #baldurs gate halsin

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souperbloom · 7 months

Text

sweet tooth. [A.I.]

had this one floating around in the noggin for a bit. shoutout to @ipreferthedrummer for making it happen. ;)

🍫 fwb!ash

a night in with Ashton never tasted so sweet.

a/n: just wanted to get a little somethin’ out before my next project :3 keeping ash lanes fed is my only job.

CONTENT WARNINGS: !smut (kinda just drops ya right in, whoops.), fingering (f!receiving), insinuates unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, the use of food in an unholy scenario (lolz).

WORDCOUNT: 2k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Can we try something?"

Ashton pops his head up from the crook of your neck, his hands still feeling you up as he hovered over you, your bodies splayed haphazardly across his living room couch.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about this something since the moment you stepped through Ashton’s front door.

Originally, the plan for the evening was to make ice cream sundaes, watch a movie, and leave before the clock struck midnight.

You stopped at the grocery store on your way over, grabbing any and every ice cream related thing on the shelves, per Ashton’s request. Whipped cream, hot fudge, toasted peanuts, sprinkles; and about four different flavors of ice cream.

When you brought up the idea, Ashton didn’t hesitate. An impromptu hangout to make ice cream sundaes? Who could say no to that?

But now, your mind was clouded— and after an unsuccessful 15 minutes of trying to assemble these monstrous sundae creations, you and Ashton had gotten a bit distracted. The only thing left of your clothes now were a pair of lacy panties and the oversized t-shirt on your back.

"What is it?" Ashton asks breathlessly, a rogue black curl falling over his forehead. He was already half-naked, which you found amusing, speaking on the fact that you had only been at his house for an hour.

"Here," You start to lift yourself from beneath him, bringing him to flop backwards on the couch as you rise to your feet, "I’ll just… show you."

You weren’t exactly sure how to bring up what you wanted. Would it have been weird to ask for such a thing? God, you hoped not. You knew Ashton was down for just about anything you asked for— you guys worked well in that way.

Across the living room were the contents of an unmade ice cream sundae, sitting out on the counter and taunting you with their presence. The whipped cream can on its side, the chocolate syrup, a plastic container of sprinkles; untouched. It was like a sweet crime scene.

You walk to them with your hands on your hips, as Ashton just sits there quietly.

"You hungry? I know we didn’t really get to the sundaes but— you could’ve just said somethin’."

"No, no— I’m not hungry…" Covering up your newfound nervousness with a chuckle, you reach for the bottle of chocolate syrup.

"Oh."

You glance over your shoulder at Ashton, who was clearly trying to get a read on what you were doing.

"Can we try something with this?"

Ashton’s eyes widen at the bottle in your hand, a sneaky smile spreading across his face that made you just want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

"You want me to lick it off of you, don’t you?"

The condescension in his voice was more prominent than ever.

"You don’t have to—"

"Y/N, you know I’ll do anything once…" The way he responds so calmly makes your stomach turn.

"…Just tell me whatcha’ need."

You bite back a smile, walking back over to the couch with more confidence than before. Ashton shifts in his seat, spreading his legs comfortably and inviting you to straddle his lap.

All of your actions are unspoken, the only thing occupying the room around you were the sounds of a jazzy, blues guitar. You return to him, and he holds out his hand to you.

"M’lady," he jokes, reinstating that charm of his as you use his hand as leverage to straddle him.

"You’re so dumb."

He scrunches his nose. "You love it."

With the bottle in one hand, and his hand in the other, you get comfortable on his lap. His hands find your waist again instantly, index fingers toying at the hemline of your t-shirt.

Well, his t-shirt.

Unsure of how to resume what you had started, you crash your lips into his, and drop the syrup bottle at your side, in hopes he’d get the memo.

And, of course, he did. He knew you a lot better than you thought.

"Let’s get you out of this, hm?" He mumbles into your lips, not long before pulling the shirt over your head. You lift your arms to aid him in undressing you.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for that shirt, by the way," He chuckles, but doesn’t waste any time finding his blistered hands on your waist.

You just smile at him, running your tongue across your bottom lip. "Found it."

As your lips reconnect, you can already feel the wetness pooling in your panties, grinding down into the hardened length held captive by his briefs. His tongue explores your mouth, while your hands wrap around the nape of his neck.

You start a rhythm of swiveling your hips; his hands traveling down your waist to cup your ass, taking it in a handful.

"Fuck this grinding shit… ‘Need to fuckin’ feel you…" He speaks sloppily through bated breaths, but you nod in agreement. An hour spent teasing was an hour too long.

Your hand moves to his hair, pulling back his head so you could leave a trail of sultry kisses down his exposed neck and chest. He whines at the contact of your lips on his skin.

"Wanna ride me, baby?"

Your head pops up, taking your bottom lip between your teeth with a nod. "Yes please."

He wastes no time lifting your hips off of his to free his cock from the button on his briefs. You do the same, taking your hand between your bodies and pushing your panties to the side.

Moving with such haste was typical for you and Ashton; since half of the times you’ve fucked have either been rushed, or at a place where you really shouldn’t have been so needy for each other.

"Fuck yes, baby— always so ready f’me…" He palms his cock, brushing the tip against your wet folds. All you could do was whine, already fuck-drunk by the slightest feeling of him.

But before you were able to lower yourself onto him, he stops you in your tracks with a grab at your sides.

"Eager now, are we? Aren’t we missing something here?"

You were already so dazed by the thought of riding him that you had completely forgotten what you had asked for.

"Mmm, shit, you’re right." You nod, closing your eyes and settling yourself onto his thighs.

He reaches beside you for the chocolate syrup bottle, holding it between your bodies. A wave of excitement rolls down your spine, watching eagerly as he pops the lid.

"Where do you want me?" He asks, his eyes flicking between the bottle and your chest.

"Everywhere."

With a shake of his head and a bite of his lip, he tips the bottle. You take in a deep breath, watching the chocolatey mixture pour out and trickle down your bare chest.

You weren’t sure how much he’d let drip down the front of your body, how far he’d actually go with your request. But the only thing you could do was watch with a slack jaw as he continued to pour it onto you.

His eyes flicker with lust as he watches the gooey trail lead down towards your bellybutton, practically salivating at the sight of you covered in something edible. Something so sweet.

"Y’look fuckin’ delicious, Y/N. Wonder how good you taste—" he mumbles, satisfied with his artwork as he pops the lid closed.

"’Guess there’s only one way to find out."

Your head was reeling. Spinning at a mile per minute. You didn’t think you’d enjoy this as much as you were about to, and you’d only realized it the moment his tongue licked a slow stripe up your chest.

"Shit—"

You whine and writhe, arching your back to allow better access to the chocolate that had gone too low to reach.

Ashton hums in delight at the taste of you on his tongue, those bright green eyes popping up only upon hearing your voice.

He seemed to enjoy watching how he ruined you, almost as much as you enjoyed letting him.

Expletives and more moans croak out of you as he starts another pass up to your chest, this time starting just above your belly button.

You wanted to scream in ecstasy, but couldn’t find it in you to make a sound louder than the satisfied groans coming from him. His tongue moved intricately across your body, collecting every last bit of that sweet nectar on his tongue.

Ashton then swallows, and gives one last pass of his tongue between the valley of your tits before stopping up to your eye level.

"Wanna taste?" He asks, licking at the left over chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

"Thought you’d never ask."

In a second, his lips are hungrily slotting against yours. Your tongues swirl together; the rich, earthy flavor meshing into something even sweeter than before.

Just as you thought you couldn’t get enough of him, he reaches down between your bodies, attaching his index finger to your clit.

"That’s it, baby—" says Ashton, messily attempting to keep your lips interlocked as his motions cause you to jump out of your skin, "— bein’ so good. So sweet. Gonna’ cum for me, sweet girl?"

"Yes, Ash— Please—" You beg, an empty plea, as his fingers continue to chip away at your decorum and any part of you that was left on this Earth.

His middle finger was now brushing against your slit, but you were feeling far too greedy.

"Please, Ash— Need t’feel you, oh—"

Your forehead knocks against his, hips gyrating with force and practically begging for release. He listens to the signs, as always, now with one finger inside of you and the other still playing with your clit.

"That’s it, darlin’. Just like that—"

He coaches you through every single fleeting moan that rips through your throat, nodding at you. Giving you all of the conformation you needed to completely let go.

"Give it to me, Y/N. Fuckin’ give it t’ me."

"Fuck, Ash!"

Your heart rate doubles, triples; it’s climbing and climbing with each curl of his fingers. You watch his face contort as he takes his time pleasuring you, noticing his teeth sunk into his bottom lip so deeply that he was close to drawing blood.

"Ash, I’m close—"

You gasp for air, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you begin to hurdle towards the brink of your orgasm. But all he does is peer at you with that familiar, sultry smile.

"Kiss me."

Following his eager instruction, you slam your lips onto his. The both of you let out a collective sigh as your tongues entwine once again, singing sweet nothings into each other’s mouths while his fingers fuck up into you.

You could still taste the remnants of chocolate, the syrupy flavor ghosting around in your mind right before stars are fogging your vision. You completely let go, releasing yourself onto his fingertips with a loud cry.

"Yes, fuck— give it t’ me."

Ashton coaches you one last time as your orgasm rips through your limbs, rendering every single organ of yours absolutely useless. The butterflies once encaged in your stomach had set finally set free, and fluttered along your insides.

As your orgasm fades out into a shaky pair of legs and a heightened heart rate, you think about what Ashton had said right before he was spilling chocolate sauce onto your bare chest. How willing, how eager he was to try this with you.

To taste you.

You pinch your eyes closed, before collapsing onto the front of his chest with a long sigh.

"Fuckin’ hell, Ashton," You mean to sound stern, but it comes out as more of a giggle as your thoughts bounce around in your brain, "And to think I thought you were gonna say no…"

As his hand reaches up to comb through your hair, his head leans down to whisper in your ear. You could tell he was smiling.

It was always so obvious.

"Well, Y/N— when it comes to you, I’ve got a fuckin’ sweet tooth."

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#ashton irwin #5sos #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton 5sos

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akumicchi · 10 months

Text

It takes two to love

[Tamaki x fem reader] tw: food.

Just fluff and domesticity

— Do you think we have it all already?— Tamaki had asked, checking the red plastic basket full of groceries — We have the tapioca starch, fruits, milk...

— Yup, but guess what? —she turned to him with a playful twist of her head— You just won a coupon for a free meal cooked by yours truly. And I need some ingredients. The other day you said you were craving some pasta, right?

He swayed his head from side to side, barely containing a smile. Tamaki let himself be pulled further into the supermarket by their intertwined pinkies.

It was late in the afternoon when the weekly errands were finished and they settled back home for the night. It was an odd pretty thing, this routine both had built for their matching days off, whenever it was. It wasn't normally disrupted by a trip to the supermarket, but in Tamaki's book, quality time doesn't need a specific place to occur. The bought goods sat on the counter, while he rearranged them on their rightful places in the cabinet or the fridge. He had taken a pair of tomatoes from the bag, when she shamelessly stole them from his hands.

— Thanks, Tama, you're always such a gentleman —she teased and kissed his cheek before turning to the chopping board, light on her feet.

It wasn't out of the ordinary, but it was peculiar and funny to see her all...bubbly, like clear water from a stream. He laughed at her.

— You really are excited about making that pasta, wonder were that's coming from? —he got close to the sink, rolling up his sleeves.

— Nope, you're not working on this today, Hun —her hand went to his arm, stopping him from filling the pot with water.— This is my way to say thank you for all your hard work, it won't make sense if you're cooking too! This is your coupon, remember?

Tamaki could feel the heat on his face and the pickup of his heart rate.

— I-um... Okay. But at least let me prepare the boba tea. I want to thank you for your hard work too and —he spoke softly in a classic Tamaki fashion, looking at her right in her round eyes. He had become good at holding eye contact with other people. He thought it may have been due to her influence —, for putting up with me all this time.

She sat the knife on the chopping board, and her arms went to hang loosely around his neck— You know I'm not putting up with you, right? I'm here with you because I love you. I wouldn't be who I am now if it weren't for you, and believe me, I like who I am right now. Do you want me to remind you? —her voice was softer, lower like a whispered secret, as her fingertips rubbed his nape.

Tamaki shuddered under her touch and gaze. His nod was short, almost imperceptible under the weight of his shame. She hugged him tight, scratching his scalp and rubbing his nape. He felt himself go warmer after getting a few kisses on his cheek, heart pounding even faster when she whispered:

— You know I've never really had a favorite hero when I was a kid, right? None of them actually made me feel that sense of... admiration, so to speak. But after my time in UA, the internships and all that, I changed my mind. You are my favorite hero, Tamaki. You are my hero.

Tamaki sighed, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt petty, needing to be reassured of something he already knew.

They stood there for a few minutes, holding each other tight, swaying slowly from side to side. Then the urgency to eat came over, and both returned to their tasks: Tamaki prepared the boba tea, she cooked the pasta. The mood picked up fast, with her bumping his hips and vice versa. She hand fed him some sauce and he hummed in satisfaction. Soon enough the food was plated and they sat next to each other at the table.

— Hmm! This is good! —Tamaki said, eyes closed in bliss as he chewed his portion.

— Right? Just the best for my baby.

— What? —he laughed— How come I'm your baby when I'm older than you?

— Shush it, silly, you are my baby.

He just laughed at her goofiness again. Then he waited, relying on his hero instincts, calculating the best time for a swift attack, and stole a spoonful of her own pasta, and stuffed it right into his mouth.

— Hey, that was mine!

He snorted.

•••

The dishes were washed and she sat at a small table on the balcony. She was surrounded by plants and had a clear view of the city lights. It was as peaceful as the busy metropolis could be. In moments like this, she wished the days off were everlasting.

Tamaki arrived shortly, holding two glass cups of the boba tea he had made earlier. He hadn't even fully entered the balcony when a fit of giggles bubbled out of his mouth.

— What is it? —she raised a brow.

Her boyfriend didn't answer. Instead, he put both glasses on the table and left the room, only to return with a napkin, which he used to wipe away some remnants of sauce from her lips.

— There, all better. —he found it very endearing, how her cheeks lit up with color and her eyes averted his gaze, visibly embarrassed. Even the way she tried to play it off was adorable, his silly girl.

— Oh, clumsy me... Haha...

— Even if you're clumsy, I'll always be by your side to clean up your little messes —Tamaki smiled softly, crouched in front of her—. It's the least I can do for you.

She hid her face behind her hands, voice tight in a whine— But I don't want you cleaning my messes though? I'm not a kid!

She had always had an ability to fluster him with sincere compliments and cheesy remarks. One of her favorite things to say was that her job was to show him how loved he was, and if it had to be done by flustering him, then the better. His job, on the other hand, on his own words, was to make her feel safe, so safe that not even her own demons could do her any harm. But it was nice to turn the tables from time to time.

Tamaki pryed her hands out, placing them on her chest— This is where I want your hands to be. It's just me here, so don't hide. Besides —he smiled—, you may not be a kid, but you're still my baby.

— Tamaki! That's my line!

He laughed.

197 notes · View notes

alwaysbethewest · 1 year

Text

Triple Frontier fic: A Pilot for Christmas

It's @pedrostories Secret Santa day!! My assignment was for @frannyzooey, who requested domesticity, roommates-to-lovers, and fluff or smut 🥰 I had some of the most fun EVER writing this fic, so I hope it will make you smile, too, Kelli. Merry Christmas!! 🎄 Thank you to @mourningbirds1 and @fleetwoodmactshirt, both of whom I—not to be dramatic but—basically can't live without at this point, and at the very least couldn't have written this fic. And she's not a Pedro fan so I can't imagine she wants to be tagged in this, but thank you to my friend Alyssa for kindly helping me with one of the very few pieces of actual research I did for it.

Title: A Pilot for Christmas Pairing: Frankie Morales/f!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 4.8k Content/warnings: roommates to lovers, hot single dad Frankie, pining, yearning, lusting, questionable romance novel smut, compromising positions, sexual content, fade to black, food, domesticity. Unbetaed, so please let me know if you spot any typos/errors!

There’s a note for you on the kitchen table, written in Frankie’s even, boxy print: Mac + cheese + trees in fridge if you want some.

Your schedules never align on Wednesdays; your boss’s mandatory mid-week team meetings inevitably keep you late and Frankie is always on his way to Laura’s place by the time you get home. You haven’t met his ex-wife, but you think she must be nice enough since he’s usually in a good mood when he gets home from their weekly family dinners. They’re co-parenting, as he’d explained when you first moved in, and along with providing dinner on Wednesdays he does his part by taking their daughter on the weekends. He’s given you a break in the rent to make up for sharing your apartment with a three-year-old two days a week.

This is technically a sublet, and it’s technically temporary, but you get along well enough with Frankie that sometimes it feels a little like kismet. His old roommate had landed a contract overseas for a year just as you were moving to town, and a mutual friend had connected you. There are four months left on the contract, but you’d heard from the roommate recently that he was expecting the position to be renewed, so most likely you’ll get to stay longer if you want to. Nothing is official yet either way, and you’ve decided to give yourself another month before you start to worry about it.

Having the apartment to yourself once a week is the perfect opportunity to watch your favorite guilty pleasure TV shows without fear of male judgment—not that Frankie gets really rude about it but his silent raised eyebrow speaks volumes—and you happily warm up a bowl of macaroni and cheese and “trees” (broccoli; it turns out toddlers lose interest when you use the B-word) and settle in on the couch.

Living with Frankie has gone better than you’d feared it might. Knowing he was the friend of a friend of a friend had alleviated some of your anxiety about moving in with a stranger, and he’s turned out to be a mostly quiet, respectful roommate. After maintaining clear-cut boundaries for the first couple of weeks, you had both relaxed a little bit and settled into something of a shared routine. He likes to cook but doesn’t enjoy grocery shopping, so you often take his list along with your own to the store—and reap the rewards on nights like this when he keeps you well-fed. You both like to keep a tidy home, and neither of you minds the other person throwing in a few items when you’re doing a load of laundry. You’ve even mostly gotten over the embarrassment of the time Frankie had delicately handed you a pair of thong underwear he’d found trapped in the sleeve of one of his clean shirts. The barely-contained amusement on his face had haunted you for a full week.

When you’ve finished your dinner you pause the TV to go wash your bowl, and while you’re in the kitchen you take a few minutes to put away the dishes Frankie had left drying in the dish rack. It’s an easy symbiosis, you muse, a give-and-take that seems to suit you both. Underneath his note, you write back: Delicious!! Thank you, and sign it with a heart.

Most of the time your editing job allows you to maintain a reasonable work-life balance, but this month you’ve found yourself scrambling to get everything done before the upcoming holiday break. Your co-worker Deandra is off on an unexpected leave, and after taking on a share of her work on top of your own, the projects have started to form an intimidating pile. One Monday, two weeks before Christmas, you compromise your typical boundaries by logging back onto your laptop after dinner to work on a manuscript. Frankie is watching a game with the volume on low and it makes for comfortable background noise while you work from the opposite end of the couch.

Deandra’s specialty is romance, and while you’ve had to get used to covering a new genre, having some variety has been interesting. But a detail in this book is bothering you. You glance at Frankie, whose expression is quietly focused. His team is leading the scoreboard by a healthy margin. You don’t think he’ll mind a brief distraction.

“Hey. I could use your piloting expertise. Can I ask you a weird question?”

Frankie raises an eyebrow and shrugs his assent. “Go ahead.”

“Okay, so—is it logistically possible to have sex in a cockpit?”

You have his attention. He slowly turns his head to give you a long, wide-eyed look. After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes, contemplating. “What kind of aircraft are we talking?”

“Like a regular… A commercial passenger plane?”

He nods, pursing his mouth and tilting his head up so he can gaze off into space, like he’s visualizing it. He glances at you again.

“Two people?” he checks.

“Two—yes, it’s—” he’s surprised you a little, and you fumble for words. “It’s not a cockpit orgy,” you tell him.

He laughs. “Pilots like to party,” he says opaquely, and now you’re the one narrowing your eyes at him, but he’s ignoring your questioning look. “Okay, is it possible? Theoretically, sure. Especially if the other person is short. Is it comfortable, though?” He pulls a face. “It wouldn’t be my choice. It’s a cramped space. Someone’s gonna end up hitting their head, or accidentally kicking the instrument panel, or…” he trails off, shaking his head in disapproval. “It’s… inadvisable.”

“Got it. Thank you.” You make some notes in the Word document on your screen, still internally recovering from his follow-up question, and Frankie turns his attention back to the TV, where the opposing team is starting to close the lead.

You’re no prude, but the genre you usually work in fades to black more often than not, and this author’s penchant for smutty detail has you feeling slightly in over your head. You’ve made it past the cockpit quickie but four chapters later Frankie’s team is on the cusp of winning their game and your protagonist is finally about to have her tall, dark, and handsome pilot love interest in a real bed.

“This love scene is… really something,” you comment. Frankie looks over in interest.

“Read it to me.”

“It’s dirty,” you warn him.

Frankie smirks. “I think I can handle it.”

You take a breath and start to read aloud from the page: “Isabella’s heart raced in excitement. Roderick was standing so close she felt as though his breath was entering her lungs with every inhalation. He took her hand and pressed her palm to himself, making her feel his turgid cock stirring in his pants—Obviously that needs to go—”

“Which part, the turgid cock?” Frankie asks. “I like it.”

“You like it?” you ask, incredulous.

“What?” he says. “A guy can’t enjoy a turgid cock now?”

“Jesus,” you laugh. Your face is starting to feel warm. “Isabella’s petite hand could barely fit around Roderick’s girthy length and it made her whimper with arousal. Roderick smirked down at her. ‘I can’t wait to be inside you,’ he rasped hungrily. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against his body. ‘Tell me you want it,’ he growled.” You glance at Frankie and see he’s got one arm slung across his chest and the other hand resting at his mouth, thumbnail running distractedly over his lips. He’s staring at the TV without really watching it, and after a moment of silence he finally blinks and meets your eyes again.

“It’s weird you get to read porn for work,” he says dryly, and you bury your face in your hands and laugh.

When the game ends, Frankie switches on an episode of Star Trek that he seems to be half watching while he does something on his phone. On your laptop screen, Roderick has you stymied.

Roderick’s muscular arms tossed Isabella onto the bed like she weighed nothing. “Ohhh,” she moaned. “Give it to me.”

“Give you what, baby?” he rasped. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Give me—” Her pale cheeks blushed prettily. How could she say it out loud? But he was looking at her with such lust in his eyes that she knew he only wanted to make sure she was ready to turn herself over to him, to let him use her any way he liked. The thought of it made her shiver with anticipation. “Give me your cock, Roderick. Make me yours.”

With a growl from deep in his chest, Roderick dragged her hips down the bed so that she was balancing on the edge, where his body loomed over hers. Turning her onto her side, he leaned down to nose under her ear, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck and making her moan. His broad hand clutched her thigh, maneuvering her leg to tuck her knee around his hips, and his other hand he ran tantalizingly down her back until he reached her other thigh. He opened her legs, like an explorer unveiling the treasure he’d been seeking, and he straightened up, lifting her ankle to rest against his shoulder, and grinding his hard member against her core.

You go over the last few lines again, whispering the words under your breath to yourself as you try to picture the position. You feel like you need a diagram.

“I’m lost,” you declare.

Frankie glances up from his phone. “Hm?”

“I don’t understand where these limbs are going,” you tell him. “I don’t know if my brain just isn’t working because it’s 9 PM or if this passage needs rewriting. Or if this sex is too advanced for me.”

He laughs and makes a grabbing motion at your laptop. “Lemme see.”

You hand it over, standing up to stretch while he reads it to himself.

“‘He opened her legs like an explorer unveiling the treasure he’d been seeking,’” Frankie reads out dramatically. “Really?”

“Don’t get caught up in the simile,” you say. “Focus on the legs. Is that position even feasible? For someone who isn’t a contortionist?”

“Maybe in the next chapter they reveal she was raised in the circus,” he suggests, but he squints at the screen again, reading through the text. “I think I get it. It’s like—” He gestures with his arms, posing them to mimic Isabella’s legs. It’s borderline incomprehensible.

Later, you’ll blame the late hour and your overworked brain for what happens next. If you’d been running on all cylinders, you would have thought through the boundary-crossing implications of this and stopped yourself, but as it is you frown down at him and say, “Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on,” you urge him, already heading down the hallway to your bedroom. He hesitates, but then follows a few paces behind, and it’s then—the moment he crosses the threshold behind you—that your brain finally catches up to your actions and you begin to realize this was a terrible, terrible idea.

But somehow, coming up with an excuse to turn back feels more mortifying than plowing forward. You sit on the edge of the bed, trying to focus on the matter at hand. Frankie is hanging back, but you give him an expectant look and he takes a step towards you. He clears his throat softly.

“On your side,” he says. It shouldn’t sound like a command—he offers it gently, a reminder of the scene you’re playing out—but something inside you can’t tell the difference and you feel a spot deep in your core go hollow and needy. You turn, obediently, and lay on your right side. He touches the knee of your right leg, urging you to pull it forward.

“This leg around me.”

He steps into the crook of your knee, between your thigh and your calf, and looks down at your other leg, tucked awkwardly between your bodies.

“This is where it gets weird,” he says, and you laugh out loud. The sound dies out when you feel his fingers firmly wrap around your ankle and slowly maneuver your left leg, straight in front of you and then pivoting towards the ceiling. You feel the stretch in your hips, your body turning to follow so you’re halfway between your back and your side. It’s awkward, and he must see your face twist in discomfort, because he stops midway through the movement and rests your foot on his left shoulder. His body is solid and warm against the back of your leg.

“I think in the book it was over here,” he says, tapping his right shoulder. “So maybe she is a contortionist.”

“Or I need to do more Pilates,” you lament. He looks amused.

“Does this position even make sense? Would this work for you?” you ask him, regretting the question as soon as it’s left your mouth. He blinks down at you and his eyes rake down the length of your body to where you’re tangled around him. His hand is still resting over your ankle.

“Your bed is too low,” he says.

It’s—You’d meant the question in a more hypothetical sense. With some other partner, in some other scenario, would this position work? The knowledge that he has taken in the question and assessed the situation—looked at your two bodies in relation to each other, here, in your room, and thought about whether he could fuck you like this—makes you lose your breath.

“Plus—” he continues. He nudges at you to roll you onto your back, carefully lowering your foot from his shoulder so he’s standing between your open legs, nothing between you but empty space and a secret, aching want. He leans in, bracing his hands flat on either side of your body, not touching you but close enough he would only have to lean in. “I like to be able to kiss someone when I make love to them,” he says softly.

He shoots you a smile that could almost be a smirk as he stands up and heads out of the room, leaving you clutching the duvet cover as the world around you tilts on its axis.

It’s not like you’ve never noticed Frankie is attractive. Anybody could see that he is. He’s boyishly cute when he’s playing around with his daughter, their matching, dimpled smiles on display; smoldering when he gets cleaned up to go out on the town with the guys, if a little less runway-ready the morning after; and confusingly, unrecognizably handsome on the occasions he goes clean-shaven. But he’s been so firmly relegated to “platonic male roommate” status since you moved in that you’ve never, even for a second, thought about pursuing anything more. Lusting after your roommate can only end in awkwardness and moving boxes.

So discovering that the man you live with isn’t just good-looking, but has the ability to leave you wet and aching with desire, without even trying, has you looking at everything through a new lens.

On Tuesday, mid-morning, your phone lights up with a text from him. It’s a picture of a small plane cockpit interior, just two seats and a display of navigational instruments.

See how tight she is? he’s written.

You blink at your phone. SHE??

…

She = the plane. Sorry, pilot speak.

Mortifying. You nearly pull up the local apartment rentals page on Craigslist right then and there. You dive into your work instead—not Deandra’s romance, but the grisly thriller in your regular docket. Roderick and Isabella need to give you some space this week. It’s not them, it’s you—and the images of Frankie and you in compromising positions that had popped into your mind when you attempted to pick back up the draft.

He’s like a specter, haunting you.

Wednesday evening is your night with the apartment to yourself, and you’ve never been happier to be alone. He’s left you dinner, again, and you almost don’t eat it on principle—you’ll have to get used to feeding yourself, after all, once he kicks you out for making it too blatantly obvious you want to jump him.

But it would be an actual crime to pass up his enchiladas. You savor the plate. Maybe he’ll give you the recipe as a parting gift, if you ask nicely.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and catch up on one of your shows, and some of the tension you’ve been holding starts to drain from your body. But underneath is a familiar, restless energy buzzing through you, desperate for a different outlet, that you can’t ignore.

You go to bed early. What you need is just a little quality time with yourself, to reconnect and remind your body that you’re perfectly capable of satisfying it on your own—or with the no-strings-attached assistance of a vibrator.

It’s a valiant, miserable attempt. Every tried and true fantasy keeps rerouting back to Frankie. You turn your toy to its highest setting and the sensation still pales in comparison to the thrill of his fingers wrapped securely around your ankle, the line of his body pressed against your legs, and his low, deadly voice telling you how to move.

You go to sleep more frustrated than when you started, only to dream of him. He’s hovering over you, pressing you into the bed, his hot mouth on your neck and sucking on your tits and working his way down to eat you out and bring an orgasm crashing through you—and you wake up at 3 AM with your cunt throbbing between your legs.

One of the things you’ll miss most about this place when you inevitably have to move out due to your incurable roommate attraction is the in-unit washer and dryer. Perhaps in solidarity with your own resolve and self-control, the dryer abruptly breaks in the middle of the week.

“Do you want me to call the landlord, or will you?” you ask Frankie, but he immediately shakes his head.

“Let me take a look at it,” he says.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek.

Two hours and one trip to a hardware store later, he’s on his knees in front of the machine, working quietly save for an occasional soft grunt of exertion when he has to fit something into place.

There’s a bare strip of skin on display where his shirt has ridden up, and a black waistband peeking out from under his jeans. Your mind drifts, imagining away the denim and picturing how the tight boxer briefs would cup his ass and grip his muscular thighs, until your own thighs are clenching and you force yourself to go clean the kitchen instead.

“I’m moving out,” you call over your shoulder as you go.

“I promise I can fix it,” he says, like he thinks you’re just fed up with one broken appliance, not your own internal breakdown.

If only.

It’s 7 AM Friday and you’re fixing your coffee when Frankie ambles into the kitchen, bare-chested and barefoot and wearing nothing more than a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms. If you allowed yourself to look, you would see the soft curve of his modest belly and the sparse line of hair trailing down to disappear enticingly under his waistband. His voice is early morning-deep when he mumbles a good morning. His hand steadies casually on your wrist when he stands next to you to grab a mug from the cupboard just to your left, and you hope he can’t feel your pulse quicken under his touch. When his coffee is ready and he takes his first sip, he lets out a satisfied groan. You want to die.

“You must be doing this on purpose,” you say, dismayed.

He blinks at you over the rim of his coffee cup. “Doing what?”

You gesture helplessly, at his naked chest and effortlessly rumpled bedhead. “Just—being all—”

He glances down at himself, then back at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being all…?”

“Just—sexy, I guess,” you finally admit.

For a moment, he looks surprised. Then an amused smile spreads slowly over his face and he takes a step towards you, clever eyes taking in how your body straightens and your breath picks up.

“I didn’t realize it bothered you,” he says. “Didn’t you say you were going to move out, anyway?”

“I am,” you say. “I can’t stand you anymore.”

He takes another step closer.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I could give you a reason to stay.”

You slump against the counter at your back, helplessly wanting him.

“Please,” you tell him.

He touches you carefully, one hand skimming your hip and the other on your arm. He cocks his head, looking skeptical.

“You really think I’m sexy?” he asks.

You nod miserably. “It’s torture.”

He laughs and you are desperately endeared by the way it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, and the hint of a dimple peeking out under his beard.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, and he leans in, and the touch of his lips to yours makes you feel like you’re floating, like your body might drift up to the sky if not for his sturdy frame anchoring you in place. Like your legs might give out, sending you sliding to the floor, except that he’s pressing close enough now that his body is touching yours, bending you back just enough to easily reach, and his hand has crept up from your arm to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you securely even as he finally pulls his mouth away, leaving you breathless and dazed.

You think you understand the overwrought prose of Deandra’s romances now.

“I can’t stand you either,” he says quietly. “You were torturing me the other night, with all the dirty talk from that book and then making me go to your room. Christ.”

“Sorry,” you say, not really meaning it. You’ve never felt this intoxicated this early in the morning. You’ve never looked into his eyes this close up. They’re a rich, deep brown that you feel halfway hypnotized by.

He glances away and must spot the microwave clock, because he pulls away with a look of regret. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Take a sick day,” you suggest.

He smiles ruefully and shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says. “But what would you do if I did?

You take a deep breath. Your eyes drop to his waist, and you touch your fingertips gingerly to the soft skin on display there. You lift your gaze to meet his own.

“I’d ask you to take me to bed,” you tell him.

He forces himself to leave. You watch his fingers clenching as he turns away, closing around the empty air as though he wishes it was you.

You go to your own room on unsteady legs and finish getting ready for work, thinking of Frankie’s mouth for your entire commute and almost missing your exit as a result. This time, opening Roderick and Isabella’s romance is a whole new kind of torture, and you end up claiming a headache by 3 o’clock to go home early, not caring if your boss can see through the lie.

Getting home early means you have plenty of time to shower and shave and moisturize with intent this time instead of your regular lazy girl morning routine. You’re soft and smooth and clean, in the kitchen making a snack of crackers and cheese to distract your anticipatory nerves, when Frankie comes home.

He gives you a small, familiar smile and sets a grocery bag on the counter between the two of you.

“You pick which comes first,” he says, nodding to the bag. He steals a cracker off your plate while you peer inside.

He’s brought you two pints of Ben & Jerry’s and one box of condoms.

“All the essentials,” you observe, and he grins. You pluck the condoms out of the bag and hand them to him meaningfully. His smile turns a little sly and he leans in and kisses you, too briefly for your liking, before pulling away again.

“I have to take a quick shower,” he says. “Wait for me?”

You let out a sigh, turning to put away the ice cream. “Don’t take too long,” you joke, gesturing to the pints. “I’ve got two other men waiting for me.”

“Ha, ha,” he says, already halfway down the hall.

Out of the shower, he comes to you with damp hair curling softly around his head, dressed simply in a navy t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants, and looking so good you think you might combust. After a moment of flirtation—your room or mine?—you finally find yourself in his bedroom. He leans in to kiss you and he takes his time this time, cupping your face in his large hand, teasing gently at your mouth, sliding his tongue along yours to deepen the kiss. When he pulls away to trace his lips down your jawline, you take a breath to steady yourself—and then squint in confusion. There’s a familiar scent in his hair.

“Is that—did you use my shampoo?”

He goes still for a moment, caught, and then laughs.

“Mine ran out,” he admits, a little sheepishly. He pulls in closer, nosing at your neck. “Yours is nicer, anyway. I always like how it smells on you.”

“We can share,” you say generously. “I’ve never been one of those roommates who labels all their shit.”

“Good,” he murmurs, mouth hot against your collarbone. “‘Cause I also ate your leftovers.”

You make a sound of exasperation and he tackles you to the bed, promising apologetically that he’ll make it up to you. And then proceeds to do so.

Very thoroughly.

You awaken to find a note on the pillow next to you, in Frankie’s familiar printed handwriting: Going to pick up Baby M. See you soon.

You give yourself a minute to luxuriate in his bed, enjoying the calm, satiated feeling in your body, and the warm scent of him in the sheets, and then you straighten up his bedding and scurry back to your own room to get dressed before he arrives home with his daughter. You’re just pulling your shirt over your head when you hear their voices in the living room, and you go out to greet them. He’s juggling a Starbucks tray in one hand along with his keys and her travel bag. She’s munching contentedly on a snack and doing her part by carrying her favorite stuffed seal plushie.

Over her head, he shoots you a warm, intimate smile. You feel a giddy thrill bubble up in your chest and you grin back at him.

“We made a coffee run,” he says, nodding to the drinks. “Someone wanted a cake pop.” The toddler tips her face up to offer a beatific, icing-smudged smile. Frankie sets her bag on the couch and leads the three of you into the kitchen.

“That one is yours,” he tells you, pointing to one of the cups. Then, to her, “You want some real breakfast, mija?”

You look at the label on the drink and your jaw drops in surprise. “How did you know London Fogs are my favorite?”

He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, but you catch a self-satisfied smile on his face as he turns away. “I notice things.”

He keeps a platonic distance while his daughter is in the kitchen but when she leaves to go put her stuffed animal away in her room, he pulls closer, nudging your hand with his. “You alright?” he murmurs.

You rub your thumb across his knuckles. “I’m really, really good.”

“I convince you not to move out?” he asks. You pretend to think about it.

“Almost. I think you could tip the balance if you make me some eggs.”

He clicks his tongue in affirmation. “Got it.”

Later, when the three of you have settled at the breakfast table with piles of fluffy scrambled eggs and buttered toast, his face changes like he’s just remembered something.

“Hey, how did that book end up, with Roderick and what’s-her-name?” he asks you, taking a sip of his coffee. “You never mentioned it after Monday night.”

You haven’t actually made it to the end yet, but you already know the answer.

“They lived happily ever after,” you tell him. “It’s a staple of the genre. The couple always has a happy ending.”

“Huh,” he says. He gives you a small, private smile, and taps his foot against yours, out of sight under the table. “That’s good to hear.”

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #my fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #triple frontier #francisco morales

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stressedemoblackbratz · 1 year

Text

pretend

pairing: shuri x singer!black reader

warnings: swearing and fading relationship between reader and her boyfriend

a/n: as you can tell, i was definitely inspired by Zay’s own writing (the title has magically excused itself from my brain (i’m thinking lemonade, but i don’t wanna fuck up) my apologies, but i’m gonna blame that on finals). i loved the chapters and it inspired me to write something after a year. those euphoria requests wore me out lol. also, i don’t mention the death of anyone in this story. it didn’t happen…okay? okay! i might do a backstory to this? I’m not really sure, but we’ll see. i hope you enjoy babes!

words: 1.4k + not proofread

let's pretend we never met. a good excuse to play forget. let's pretend you never lied, so i can give it up all night, swallow my pride, and learn to forgive. when i'm looking for love i pretend it's you. a love that never ends.

the bed was cold, your lace band was on snug, and the food you cooked for your boyfriend of 2 years was cold.

and after all that damn cooking?

he could throw away the food and clean the dish he didn’t get to eat.

2 years and this was life. you used to bask in each others presence, go on dates, write poems together, make appearances, but now?

now you barely saw him because he was rehearsing lines with his new costar and you were trying to finish your album.

he didn’t look at you the same anymore, the house was cold, and those i love you’s we’re definitely empty.

you were perfect and just like that it was gone.

pretending like you were fine was the only thing you two had in common.

you remember one morning darius got a call stating he nailed his audition and filming would start soon. that night you two attended a movie premiere then at the after party you met t’challa and he introduced you to his sister, shuri.

now it was forced smiles on the red carpets, powdering your face after cry sessions, lying for him, and him avoiding questions about you slyly.

real enough.

now shuri, your producer for your upcoming 3rd studio album, she knew better.

she watched you write the songs, cry mid recording, consoled you when you came in with puffy eyes and swollen lips, fed you when you realized it had been some time between your last meal due to the fast paced life…she picked up the pieces.

and she hated it because she’s in love with you.

“okay! okay! but sza? ctrl literally raised me…sos is gonna eat.” you proclaimed to shuri one night after recording one song and touching up two others. it was crunch time and your label and fans wanted the album soon.

laughing at your seriousness she put the pho she had ordered down. the light you got in your eyes while speaking on the popular album was so cute to her.

you loved this shit as much as she did.

you were raw. letting each emotion out in each song and showcasing your life to shuri before showing it to those who supported you and your craft. you didn’t put on a facade in front of her even after you had been pretending for awhile.

“for me uh…” shuri paused to think after her giggles died down. she licked her bottom lip before flicking her eyes to yours. “definitely ego death by the internet. they raised me and i hope that their next album isn’t their last. i’d scream out to bast.” she started giggling again with you joining in.

two beautiful women discussing a mutual love.

“hey y/n. listen baby, i’m gonna be late, but i promise i didn’t forget.” you could hear aeva, darius’s costar, giggling in the back. “see you soon, love you.” he quickly said before the recording clicked in an ending.

according to him he wasn’t with her intimately, but you knew him. he was drawing away for awhile, way before this role. you wanted the peace of not caring or wondering what he was doing. wondering if what he once felt for you was what he felt for her just times ten.

in that moment, with tears in your bottom lash line and legs criss crossed sitting in the large black satin bed, you knew him coming home in a few hours, waking you up with sex and sorry’s you’ve learned not to believe wouldn’t cut it this time.

it hurt so bad to know that you were done.

it hurt more to know you gave up, not that the love died. you had already grieved on that. you tried so hard, but it takes two.

but you were so happy because you’d be able to address those growing feelings you had for a certain wakandan producer.

those feelings you suppressed to honor what was left of your expiring relationship.

all of that was over. you decided it.

climbing out of the king sized bed, you made your way to the bathroom. after cleaning up your face and sighing at the water clumped lash extensions, you decided you needed to shower to sooth the ache you felt simmer in your heart.

while rinsing the soap off of you, you realized your bedroom would make you feel suffocated. you needed to leave.

the only place close by though? shuri’s studio.

quickly drying off, moisturizing, putting on deodorant, and changing into a light pink crochet top, panties, black shorts, and the most beat up pair of crocs you owned, it was almost time to go.

a purse and jacket on one arm with your phone and keys in the other hand led you downtown.

shuri was up playing with beats. you needed one more song on the album before your label would review it and decide on the next steps.

she didn’t want the hard work you had done to not be cleared. this final beat would put you and her in the spotlight. this album was your baby and in a way, hers too.

she hadn’t heard griot announce your presence as she nodded her head to the beat, but she acknowledged your existence when she smelt your signature scent overwhelm her nostrils.

you definitely noticed her. she smelt so good and looked even better. her curls hung in front of her face, different vibranium rings across all 10 fingers, wearing low hanging sweats, and a tight beater that helped show off her lean, but muscular frame.

“y/n?” she called turning around. by the look of your eyes her heart dropped, but she could notice a different kind of look on your face compared to what she usually saw associated with that feature.

“what’s wrong, entle? kukho into ayenzileyo?” she asked stopping the beat, queuing a different track, and grasping your hands.

you smiled at her urgency. she was always so sweet to you.

“shuri you know i’m still learning. i only caught you calling me beautiful.” you teased with a smile. her heart didn’t feel as heavy anymore with that look. it wasn’t forced, just playful.

“kukho into ayenzileyo, i asked did he do something?” shuri said with a light smile and knowing eyes. yours darkened a bit before you looked away and contemplated on the best way to tell her.

“he promised he wouldn’t miss dinner again, he did and it’s because he wants to be with her.” shuri frowned at his actions.

“i can’t take this anymore so i’ve decided when he comes home i’ll let him know we’re done. i’m going to make sure he gets a good mover for his items and i find a good locksmith so he can’t come back.” you revealed. saying it out loud made you feel lighter.

“i’m giving it all up. i choose me and my happiness.” you whispered as she brought you into her chest. the slight jolt she endured as a result of you slamming into her made her bump the play button and start the last song you recorded together.

let’s pretend that we bout to break up…to catch the feelings so we can make up…

“i’m…i’m proud of you! this whole album was you baring it all and finding yourself…this might be the end of a chapter. you’re stepping into a new book.” shuri spoke to you. she was tired of picking up the pieces he broke. she was tired of seeing you try to fix them.

let’s pretend i ain’t your friend so we can get it on again.

“ndiyakuthandana.” she whispered her love to you.

so we can get it on again. let’s pretend we never met, a good excuse to play forget.

“nam ndiyakuthanda” you whispered right back.

i pretend it’s you…that i’m in love with…

a tattooed hand gripped the side of your face before shuri questioned you.

“you mean that shit?” she lowly whispered.

you looked into her dark eyes and thought about everything. the first session, your recent session, the parties, the conversations, the outings, the meals you ate together, the secrets you told, the feelings you shared, everything you’ve experienced with her or because of her you wouldn’t trade.

you did mean it.

a thousand times you’d say yes.

with a nod from you shuri lifted your head from her chest and kissed you.

she’s been waiting for it.

that kiss was one of many that night. clothes left on the soundboard, seven mixed calls and a few texts left from darius ignored, the sun started to come up, and a new life was brewing on the horizon.

pretending led you to what you really wanted.

shuri.

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