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#(and I don’t think coffee theory is real)
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Wait. Hold on. I just finished my second watch of season two and I have a theory…
I think Aziraphale knew he fucked up before he ever got on that elevator.
HEAR ME OUT!
I think the moment that he heard that his big project would be the Second Coming, he instantly realized Crowley was right. As soon as the Metatron mentions the Second Coming, Aziraphale looks directly to Crowley with what I think is very-well-concealed panic. I don’t think that was a wistful gaze at what-might’ve-been. I think that was an instinctive entreaty for help from the person he trusts most in the world, followed by the immediate realization that he can’t ask for Crowley for help without letting the Metatron know something’s wrong.
Because Aziraphale KNOWS that the Second Coming is just a different flavor of Armageddon, it’s literally the rapture. There’s no planet where our boy has changed so much that he’d be willing to bring about the end of humanity, and the fact that he didn’t object to the idea instantly is important. To me, it means that Aziraphale must’ve made a split-second decision to play along. He didn’t have time to tell Crowley what was wrong, and even if he could’ve, he didn’t have enough information to put a stop to it.
Basically, I think that in the moments after the Metatron mentioned the Second Coming Aziraphale realized several things in quick succession
Crowley was right.
He and Crowley were going to have to save the world again.
If they were going to stop another apocalypse, they needed to know what they were up against.
The only way to know was to have a man on the inside.
There wasn’t time to tell Crowley any of it.
Now the question is, how does Aziraphale let Crowley know what’s going on?? Because he can’t stop Armageddon 2 (Electric Bugaloo) by himself.
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bruciemilf · 2 months
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Okay but Duke can canonically see ghosts—or at least them to a certain extent. So imagine that as he ages so does his powers, and that includes this ability.
Duke, walking into the kitchen early in the morning one day:
Thomas and Martha Wayne, who both look very real and very see through, having a heated debate about family recipes:
Duke, immediately turning around to go back to bed:
I actually adore the theory of murdered ghosts having to roam around their resting ground until their killer is brought to justice, so, Thomas and Martha being one with Wayne manor? With Gotham in general?
Uhh, YES PLEASE.
Patron saints of protection and guidance for the Waynes. Even if they could cross, they wouldn’t do it.
Have you seen this little family their son built? They need all the help they can get.
Duke genuinely thought they were 2 am hallucinations. When Thomas gives him pointers with Anna during lunch, he’s no longer certain it’s the case.
“C’mon, you’re my nephew! You gotta have more game than THAT. Buy her somethin’ nice. Dinner, jewelry, Russian battle axe. Y’know, lady things.”
“Uhh. I don’t think that’d work, Gramps.”
“What kinda woman doesn’t want an axe? Fine, get her a museum then. I know where Bruce keeps his credit cards, c’mon.” Yeah, everyone knows where. Bruce basically hands them out like coffee.
Martha heavily disproves of Bruce’s and Tim’s sleeping patterns and ‘encourages’ (strongarms) Duke into telling them to sleep.
Have you tried sending Batman, the Dark Knight, Vengeance himself, to nap before? It’s terrifying. Somehow? Tim is a bit scarier.
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silversodas · 4 months
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Interesting Alastor Insights
I think I may have figured out what was up Alastor’s ass in Dead Beat Dad. On one hand it may be a deeper issue that I am missing some context for, but I actually think it’s a little simpler then we think.
Even before Lucifer arrived, Alastor was clearly not happy about him coming over, and yes Alastor was 100% full of shit in the dad off song, BUT! Something note worthy is that he was not only being possessive of the Hotel (claiming to be its host and even greeting Lucifer as the master of the house does) but is also weirdly possessive of Charlie
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And right down to the “fuck you” to Lucifer’s face it was projecting “get your feet off of my damn coffee table and get outta my house” energy. At first I was wondering what crawled up Alastor’s ass and died, and then Hell’s greatest Dad starts playing and..
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“Who’s been faithful as a Nun? Who’s been here since day one?”
And it dawned on me and I was like “Alastor, why are you acting like your being replaced?” And Charlie is just as confused at Alastor’s behavior, like this came out of nowhere. Apparently Alastor was determined to show Lucifer who the Genie of this bottle is. But I didn’t believe it at first, I was like “nah it has to be something else” but then Mimzy gave some VARY interesting insight
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When Mimzy first arrived, Alastor has a look that says (oh this is all I need right now) but he still seems happy to see her
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Like holy shit, he happily reciprocates the hug, but that’s not to surprising if you know who Mimzy is if you have been fallowing Viv for a while
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When she mentioned that he frequented the club (speakeasy)that she preformed in I was like “oh! They are drinking buddies!” Drinking Buddies are someone you generally only know the fun side of because you only hang out together at the bar, but Mimzy highlights a different side to their relationship
“Put on some Jazz, and pour a few fingers of Rye, and he becomes a kitten”
This gives me insight that while they were alive, she wasn’t just his drinking buddy and dance partner, she was his comfort zone. The way she phrased this sentence, made it sound like this was something she used to do for Alastor when they were alive, maybe she was a soothing presence as well as an entertaining one in Alastor’s life. But bar friends can sometimes be pretty high maintenance friends outside the bar, actually I think a lot of us have had something close to a friend like Mimzy in our lives. Apparently she is so bad that even Husk is concerned enough about Alastor to try and talk to him about her
“You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something. That bitch is trouble, and who knows what demon she fucked with to come running to you this time”
Alastor’s response threw me for a loop
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“It’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t worry Husker, who would cross me?”
So Alastor is not immune to having toxic friends? I always assumed he would just drop anyone who became to much trouble, this is an interesting surprise. And on top of that he’s…an enabler!? Huh…that is super interesting to know. Putting a pin in the rest of this interaction for another post because there is a lot to unpack with husk and alastor. Except for the being on a leash thing because it made me realize something.
What if the reason he felt upstaged by Lucifer was not because Lilith told him to keep him away (yeah I am subscribing to the Lilith theory, it’s to much to Be a coincidence) but because he is legitimately afraid of no longer being needed by Charlie? What if, if he isn’t needed by Charlie then he has to go back to wherever he was the last 7 years? Everyone assumes he is free because he acts as such, but is he? Like real question, what if he was a straight up gift to Charlie in a way? Even if it was a “look after my daughter” command I would still call that sending a gift.
And oh man, what if he was suppose to tell the whole truth to Charlie but gave the whole, “I am here for entertainment” speech instead.
And your probably thinking, Charlie wouldn’t tell him to leave. Yeah but does Alastor know that? And he probably thinks Lilith might call him back anyway if he is not needed but just hanging out. But as we have seen, he cant even except his own situation
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I will unpack this whole encounter later, but for real I don’t even think he is that mad at husk, he was mad at the reminder that his soul doesn’t belong to him any more. Like look at his face, it’s the most upset we have ever seen him, and it’s so detailed. He looks enraged, but also hurt at the same time. He and Charlie are not friends, yet, but I think he does feel some what safe at the hotel and maybe that’s enough for now
I also think there is some stock in Alastor hating that Lucifer is a bad dad theory, because that contempt was so raw and he did calm the fuck down a little bit during the “more then anything” song
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But those are my random insights of Alastor, there were more but this is already to long I just hope it’s coherent
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stupidlittlespirit · 3 months
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Just For Tonight (Valentines Special)
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Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform Tags: Fake dating, no use of pronouns for reader, messy kissing, pretending to be in a relationship, making out, Reigen being a cheapskate, flirting, riding, fingering, PIV sex, glasses!reigen Word count: 9630 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!
There's a nice new sushi place in town. It's a shame they're only offering discounts for couples....
“Valentine's day is a total scam,” declares Reigen, feet kicked up on his desk and lounging in his desk chair. “It’s so lame.”
It’s 5PM on a Wednesday afternoon and work is drawing steadily to a close. You’re filing the last few pieces of paperwork for today, tidying up your things before you head home for the evening, and all you’ve done is ask if any of your colleagues are doing something nice tonight for the lauded day.
In his typical fashion, however, Reigen has seized the opportunity to launch into a pointless spiel about his one-sided beef with made-up events and how much he doesn’t buy into them.
“It’s a capitalistic concept invented to sell cheap, poor quality products marked up by like, five hundred percent, to dumb idiots that are so blinded by love that they’ll part with cash hand over fist just to prove how much they allegedly care about someone,” Reigen yaps away. “Don’t people care about the integrity of love? People should show how they feel every day, not just when society tells them they have to. It’s a dumb holiday. It’s stupid. Totally ridiculous.”
“I heard that fancy new sushi place is doing half off for couples,” says Ekubo, floating aimlessly past your head.
“Half off?” says Reigen without missing a beat. “For real?”
You roll your eyes from behind your laptop and click it shut. Trust him to only care when he can save a few Yen.
“Yeah,” Ekubo yawns. “I was gonna go down there and haunt a few couples. Y’know, spoil their day or whatever.”
“Nice,” you snort, wafting the spirit away from your face. “That doesn’t scream bitter at all.”
Ekubo grins. “Gotta make entertainment somehow, honey. You have no idea how boring it is to be dead.”
It’s hard to look disapproving when you’re laughing but you shoot him a look anyway.
Reigen snatches his feet off of the desk and sits up straight, his chair creaking with the abrupt motion. He taps away on his PC, lightning fast, and makes a sound of interest. “Holy shit,” he says. “Looks like you’re right. Half off food and drink.”
Ekubo ignores him and turns his attention to you. “Any plans?”
You shake your head. While you’d rather not give him the satisfaction, you partly agree with Reigen. The holiday is a made up scam; almost every restaurant and bar in the city ups its prices under the guise of special dinners and intimate drinks, filling their windows with hearts and flowers and corny banners about love.
Being single on Valentine’s is even worse. No one wants to go out alone and the commiseration prize for being so is a condescending offering of dating events and pathetic ‘self love’ bullshit. It's unbearably sad and you'd rather drink a bottle of wine alone in the bath than be seen to engage in any of that shit.
Still, the thought of spending it with someone you have feelings for is, in theory, very attractive. It's just a shame the only person you want is sat two meters away and very much not interested in doing anything of the sort.
Bottle of wine in the bath it is, you think.
Once everything is packed up, you wish them both good nights and make your excuses to leave. Reigen lets you go without even looking up from his laptop and you decide that tonight, more than one bottle might be needed.
At six thirty, just as you pour your first glass, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. You pick it up and flip it open, hoping this isn't going to be a late night call to come in to work even earlier tomorrow morning.
[Reigen] - are you free?
You stare at the message and another one comes in straight afterwards.
[Reigen] - obviously you are.
That’s a little hurtful but it’s not like he’s wrong. Why? you message back.
Three dots show up as he types, then they disappear, then return, and after a few minutes another message buzzes through.
[Reigen] - Emergency, meet me ASAP.
He pings through an address in the City and briefly, you're worried that he might be in trouble. The office diary hadn't listed any out of hours clients for tonight and it would be unlike Reigen to take a job that he couldn't handle alone; Serizawa is at night school this week to cram for exams and Mob is busy with his friends, so nothing is due to come up.
Another text comes through.
[Reigen] - and wear something nice.
You have absolutely no idea what he means by that, however if Reigen says it's an emergency then you'll never forgive yourself if you leave him high and dry. The last thing you want is for him to get hurt.
Must be a posh client, you think. Last minute demands for your presence are usually related to a high paying job, so it isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he needs you to butter up a stuffy customer and show off some leg to make a sale. It wouldn’t be the first time and you usually get a good commission for your troubles. It’s easy money.
Sighing, you screw the cap back on your wine bottle and down the half-full glass in record speed.
It’s better than moping about alone.
You make it there in thirty minutes, give or take. The short notice gives you just enough time to make yourself presentable, pick out an outfit and make it into the city, yet by some stroke of luck you manage to catch the last train into central.
The address isn’t far from the office and with a brisk pace, you make it in good time. It’s busy out here tonight. It’s hardly unexpected. You’re in the food district on a major holiday, throngs of people are wandering through here at the best of times.
What is, however, is the sight that greets you when you arrive at the map’s marked location.
Reigen is standing outside a dimly lit restaurant, browsing his phone in one hand and clutching a lush looking bouquet of roses in the other. You almost walk right past him, he's unrecognisable without his usual suit and tie; he's dressed in navy slacks and a perfectly white dress shirt, silver glasses on the end of his nose and hair styled nicely. He looks good.
“Reigen?” You ask, approaching him warily.
At the sound of his name, he glances up from his phone briefly to see who’s asking and double takes. He looks a little surprised to see you and you have to admit that you feel similarly.
“Oh,” he says, looking you up and down. “You made it.”
“Where’s the emergency?” You frown, looking past him to search for awaiting clients.
Reigen clears his throat and jerks his thumb over his shoulder, towards the restaurant. “Here.”
There are no concerned looking people waiting around behind him. In fact, the entire place looks to be filled with couples who are anything but. You glance between him and the shop front again, and wait for him to expand on why you’re here.
Reigen stares back at you for a moment and then proffers the bouquet. “Here,” he says, a little flushed in the face. “You like flowers, right?”
You stare at him, clearly confused, but you take them from him all the same. They’re roses, deep red and freshly cut, tied together in layers of pink paper that rival the colour on his cheeks. You have to admit, they're lovely.
“What are these for?” You ask, laughing. “Where are the clients? You said there was an emergency.”
Reigen looks slightly guilty and you realise, after a moment, that there isn’t any client. No one needs your help and there doesn't appear to be any spirit floating around to cause bother. Now that you think about it, the front of this place seems vaguely familiar and when you look again, you realise he’s totally played you.
“This is that fucking sushi place, isn’t it?” you sigh, shifting the flowers into the crook of your arm. If what Ekubo had said is true, it’s not like you’re going to get to take advantage of the discount he so desperately wants. “Reigen, we're not exactly….” You gesture between you both and the words that go unsaid are obvious: ‘a couple’.
“Look, they’re doing fifty percent off the whole menu!” Reigen launches into his reasoning and you can tell he’s practised it. “It’s just for tonight, and we don’t have to do anything except look like we are, right? They won't know any different!” He pouts slightly for good measure and you hate that it works so well on you. It always does. “Plus, they sell that swanky shrimp shit and I really wanna try it…. Please?”
The flowers suddenly make sense.
“Are you asking me to date you for the night?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. The concept is hardly unappealing. Reigen is cute and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. Well, thinking about it and dreaming about it are two very different things and the little candle you hold for him has only been getting bigger over time.
You’ve kept it quiet for the most part; the only person in the office that has any vague idea is Ekubo. He’s perceptive enough to have caught you looking when no one else is and although he's sworn to keep it a secret, you suppose if he isn't around then you can get away with playing things off as pretending.
He shrugs, unabashed in his request.
“Ugh,” is all you say and it's the vague confirmation he needs.
Reigen grins.
He drags you into the restaurant, hand wrapped around your wrist, and announces to the waiter that's taking stock of the visitors that he's booked a table for two. The waiter looks from Reigen, to you, to where he's holding you tightly by your arm.
“Tonight's dinner is for couple's, sir….” He says, looking unconvinced.
Reigen wilts slightly, letting go out of you and gesturing towards the flowers in your arms. “Uh,” he clears his throat. “We are.”
The waiter regards you both with suspicion and Reigen visibly prepares himself to argue with the guy. If you're honest, you'd really rather not cause a scene in an establishment like this by allowing him to fight with the first member of staff he comes into contact with.
The restaurant is clearly not made for people like the two of you: it's modern and luxurious, filled with mahogany and crystalline chandeliers, and all the staff look like they've smelled something unsavoury. It's clearly an upper-class joint.
Still, you think it might be nice to take advantage of an opportunity like this and you don't really want to spend tonight by yourself. Besides, you'll never hear the end of it if this gets screwed up and frankly, pretending to be on a date with him is probably as close to the real thing as you're going to get.
Reigen opens his mouth and you take his hand before he can get himself in trouble, slipping his arm around your waist and leaning into his side. He stiffens, looking at you in surprise, but you ignore him in favour of giving the waiter your best loving smile and lean into him.
Reigen smells like musky aftershave and something that’s distinctly him, and it makes your mouth water. “He's just shy,” you laugh, laying it on thick. “Of course we're a couple.”
It's important that you sell the idea first, Reigen had told you after you'd floundered a sales pitch once. Convince them even a little bit and the rest of it sells itself.
The advice is sound enough and you decide that the situation calls for a little more manipulation in order to close the sale and get the fucking stupid shrimp your boss wants. If nothing else, this'll teach him a lesson for tricking you into things. You press a chaste, but decent, kiss to the corner of his mouth and shoot the waiter a look that you hope conveys how much a couple in love would definitely do something like that.
You can feel your body warm up and you will yourself to stay relaxed, hoping your face doesn’t show how silly you really feel.
Reigen isn’t doing as good a job at running with things and he laughs, a little manic and high pitched. He mumbles something about you being right and gingerly squeezes your waist.
The waiter sighs and gestures for you to follow, apparently adequately persuaded.
When you risk a glance at Reigen, he's alarmingly red and slightly sweaty. All of the argumentative energy has left his sails and he seems rooted to the spot, unable to meet your eyes.
It's more than a little entertaining. You slip out of his half embrace and take his hand, having to drag him along in the wake of the waiter when it becomes clear that he’s forgotten how to move independently. “This better be the best fucking sushi I've ever had,” you warn him, but it's hard not to smile when he almost trips over his own feet on the way to the table.
The meal is otherworldly.
It's a testament to how the other half live. You've never had seafood like this before and knowing you probably won't have it again seems to make it all the sweeter. Everything is ten times better than the usual places you go.
Reigen lets you order whatever you want, provided it’s on the discount menu, obviously, and he even shares some of his fancy shrimp with you. Not much, but some.
The atmosphere is nice, too. Admittedly it's very romantic, candle lit and dark, and you suppose that is rather the point of it all. The lights stay low, the music is soft, and even the sushi arrives arranged into cute little hearts.
Your company is even better. Reigen has taken you out to eat before but usually he drags you to a cheap ramen place on the way home from work, and he always makes for entertaining companionship. This, though, is new. You've never actually gone out with him for a proper dinner and the entire time you sit across from him, you can't stop the way your stomach flutters at the thought of spending time like this together. It's silly, really.
It's not like this is a real date, after all. You don’t want to push the boat too far. There’s no sign that he actually feels any way about you beyond needing your compliance for his plan and you don’t want to make an idiot of yourself by getting too into it all.
You're halfway through sharing a round of nigiri when you realise Reigen is holding your hand. You're not sure how you missed him do it to begin with. After you'd sat down to eat, Reigen had been quick to keep himself to himself. The rosy tint to his face had stayed for a long time after your little over the top display and you had assumed he’d been too embarrassed to try something similar again.
Except halfway through dinner, you realise that his fingers are laced with yours as he laughs about a comment Mob had made the day before and he seems completely oblivious to the way his thumb is stroking over your knuckles.
You don't intend to mention it. It feels nice and you can't deny how enjoyable it is to play pretend like this with him, except he must catch your line of sight because he hums into his water glass, starting like it's also the first time he's noticed it, and starts to untangle himself.
“Shit,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I didn't-”
“I don't mind,” you say immediately. You're not sure what makes you blurt it out, but you tighten your grip to prevent him from backing off and surprisingly he gives in with no resistance.
He glances up at you, taken aback, and you try to clarify your meaning with only the tiniest of white lies. “The waiter already thinks we're making it up,” you say hurriedly. “We should probably keep it up until we leave, right? I’m not getting stuck with the full bill.”
Reigen raises his brows, seemingly astounded that you're not horrified by the concept of holding his hand, and he nods quickly to hide the expression. “Good idea,” he says, tangling his fingers with yours again. “Just for a bit longer.”
The hand holding lasts for more than just a bit. Even when you eat, neither of you let go of one another and no one mentions it. Sushi is easy to eat with one hand anyway, so it’s unobtrusive and easily forgotten. In fact, it’s oddly natural.
As the evening ticks on, you both relax enough that you start to forget that you’re supposed to be acting like you’re totally in love. It’s easy to get on with Reigen. You’ve always played off of each other well and this doesn’t feel any different to how you always behave around each other.
Beyond the handholding and the way his knees bump against yours under the table, you could be anywhere with him right now and you’re not sure you’d notice the change.
You’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse about the situation.
The menu extends to several good wines and some specialty cocktails too, and in spite of the fact that you’re both scheduled to work tomorrow, you’re not shy about indulging. A single glass for you becomes another and even Reigen takes a risk on a second cocktail once he realises they’re serving something with citrus and fizz in it.
By the end of dinner you’re both getting on for being tipsy. Reigen begs off halfway through, a lightweight as usual, and relinquishes his for you to finish instead. It's probably for the best. His face is turning a pretty pink as he leans forward on the table, the alcohol bleeding into his system nicely, and dinner has been far too nice to puke up on the way home.
The alcohol settles in quickly and as mixing drinks tends to do, it goes to your head. You're not quite drunk, but you're not stone cold sober either. You think it might be why you stop paying attention to whatever Reigen is saying and start to let your thoughts wander a bit.
He's busy explaining a job from a few weeks ago, one that according to Mob had been fairly dicey, yet as you polish off the remainder of your glass, you’re not really listening to him brag about how he’d definitely been the one to save the day anymore.
You’re far too busy admiring the view to care about his stories. The fine wine feels like it cushions your mind in velvet, warming you up from the inside out and blurring everything around you except from him.
The chatter of the restaurant has faded away and the intimate lighting makes it feel like it’s just the two of you in here, trading stories and laughing with each other.
Reigen talks with his hands a lot, especially when he's had a drink, and while he expresses how close he’d come to death for the fifth time that day, he rocks your joined hands back and forth in time with his free one.
Reigen has nice hands: they’re wide and square, strong from all of his massages, with thick, long fingers you can’t help but imagine in places entirely unsuited to a public restaurant.
You’re enjoying a mental movie of said fingers on your body when he waves his hand in front of your face. Obviously you’re not doing a good enough job at showing him the attention he so craves.
“You're drunk,” he says, amused at your embarrassed look.
“No, I'm not,” you protest weakly. The stupid smile on your face belays your dishonesty and Reigen is clearly entertained. He blatantly doesn't believe you and you hide a laugh behind your hand. “Anyway, if I am, it's your fault.”
Reigen pretends to look aghast at the suggestion. “I'm your boss, I'd never get my employee drunk,” he scoffs.
“You don't remember having to scrape me off the floor of that bar at the Christmas party last year?” That one had been a particularly messy night out, even for you. You’re still all banned from the place for being idiots.
He smirks and you can see he's recalling it in real time. “That was your fault, not mine.”
“No way, you practically plied me with alcohol,” you say, laughing. “Very irresponsible of you.”
“Shut up,” Reigen grins and nods to the bouquet that’s propped up on the chair beside you. “I’m a great boss! I got you flowers, didn’t I?”
“Only so I’d date you under duress!” You say.
“I mean, sure, but also because you never get anything for Valentine’s.”
You stare at him, totally caught off guard by the confession. For what it's worth, Reigen looks even more surprised that he's said it. “I…. How did you-”
“Uh,” Reigen rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I… heard you talking to Serizawa about it last week.”
You can barely remember the conversation yourself. Serizawa had been talking about seeing flower arranging classes at his school and you'd made a comment whilst Reigen had been in the other room making tea, off the cuff and totally meaningless, about how you'd never gotten them before, not even for Valentine's day. It hadn't been said for any reason other than conversation, but it had been true. Up until now, anyway.
“Reigen, I-” You don't know if you should be over the moon that he cares so much or humiliated that the object of your affection knows about your shitty dating history. “Thank you.” You say finally, giving his hand a squeeze. “I think that's the nicest thing someone has done for me for a long time.”
Reigen shrugs it off like it's nothing and you're reminded of how much you really, really fucking like this guy. He's so sweet and kind and thoughtful, and no matter how frustrating he can be, he makes up for it so easily that you can never hold it against him.
Your head swims and ridiculously, your eyes start to burn a little.
You’d really rather not cry in front of him and very graciously, Reigen pretends not to notice. Instead, he reaches for the desert menu and this time, he tells you to pick whatever you like.
For the last stretch of the night, the two of you share mochi and a couple more cocktails. The wine is a little heavy for dessert and Reigen talks you into splitting drinks so neither of you get completely wasted.
You're using them and his accidental confession over your flowers as an excuse to show a little more affection than you ought to, and he doesn't give the impression that it's a problem for him. He does start a little when you press your ankle to his under the table at one point, but at your apology and attempt to move it back, he catches your foot between his and holds it there without comment.
The casual touch becomes a subtle form of footsie without either of you consciously meaning it to and by the time dinner is done, you're sitting with your legs slotted together. Despite the fact you've let go of each other's hands to eat, everything feels much more intimate than it had at the start of tonight.
On the last few pieces of mochi, Reigen pauses his chewing. “You've got-” He gestures to his lower lip and you realise he's signifying that there's something on your mouth. “S'not much.”
Your hand flies up to seek out whatever he's talking about and you're mortified momentarily, expecting something obvious and gross clinging to your teeth, but your fingers come away clean with only a little powdered sugar on the tips.
“Oh,” you say, with a relieved laugh. “I guess I've had worse on them.” It isn't supposed to sound suggestive and the hidden meaning bypasses you until Reigen opens his smart mouth.
“Yeah,” he mutters, smirking to himself. “I bet.”
His comment comes out of nowhere and you almost choke on air, blindsided by the double entendre.
Reigen realises you've heard him and he turns so red you're sure he could light the entire way home. He panics a little, holding his hands up and starting to stammer out an apology until he realises you're laughing.
It's more than a little funny and you really don't don't mind. In fact, you suddenly wonder how far you can get him to take things. If he's making jokes like that, you're intrigued to see if you can coax out a different side to him. Just because he's your boss, that doesn't mean you both have to be uptight and on your best behaviour all of the time.
And anyway, it's all in good fun tonight. Couples are supposed to flirt, aren't they?
“Are you trying to push my buttons?” You ask, sucking the sugar from your fingertips and smiling over at him.
Reigen's eyes follow the motion and he clears his throat. “No, I-” He glances up at you, eyes searching yours, and you can almost hear the bell go off in his head when he realises he's safe to mess around a little.
A slow grin begins to bloom on his face and, slipping comfortably back into a playful attitude that you always enjoy being around, he shrugs. Reigen sits forward to lean on the table and props his chin up on his fist. “What are you gonna do if I am?” he asks, smirking. “Report me?”
You mirror him, leaning on the table too, and feint innocence. “No idea,” you say, layering on the helplessness. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll have to call HR and tell them my superior is bullying me….”
“Oh yeah?” Reigen's grin grows, cocky and lopsided. “Unfortunately,” he says, taking your hand again without acknowledging it. “I run that department too.”
Biting your lip to hold back a laugh, you duck your head and take the bait he's so clearly dangling in front of you. “Then I have a complaint to make about my boss….”
“Your boss?” Reigen says, tilting his head and pretending to recall who you might mean. He's extraordinarily good at committing to the bit. “Oh, you mean that really good looking, powerful psychic guy?”
“Uh huh,” you laugh softly and you run your toes up his ankle under the table. “Super powerful, very handsome.”
Reigen's eyes dart down toward where you're touching him, unseen, and he clears his throat again. “Handsome, huh?” He says, playing it as cool as he can. “How handsome are we talking?”
“Oh,” You smirk, shrugging one shoulder. It's hard not to break into giggles, not least because he's so cute when he thinks he's being subtle about fishing for compliments. “Enough that I don't mind him pushing a few of those buttons, I suppose.”
You know you're supposed to be joking around. All of this is a joke, a game, and yet…. The way he's allowing your touch, letting you do it back to him, it's impossible not to keep pushing.
Reigen's brow twitches and he grins. “And what if he pushed them harder?”
“I don't think I'd say no,” you sigh happily. “I like my buttons pushed pretty hard.”
“Careful,” Reigen warns playfully. “I heard he's bad news.”
You laugh under your breath. “He's not that bad once you get to know him.”
“You think so?” Reigen asks, eyes searching yours. Nonchalant, he takes your hand again and turns it over until your palm is facing upwards so he can draw slow circles on the soft skin
The sensation makes you shiver. Distractedly, you chew on your lower lip and nod. “Don't tell him, but I think he secretly likes being nicer than he gives himself credit for….”
Transfixed by your mouth, Reigen bites down on a grin. “How do you know what he likes in secret?” he says quietly. “I bet you've never even asked….”
“D'you think he'd tell me?” You say, toeing off your shoe to push your foot past his trouser leg and curl it around his calf. It's risky and stupid, and you can't even play it off as part of tonight's front, but Reigen doesn't seem to mind at all. “If I did.”
Something has changed in his gaze and all of a sudden, it doesn't feel like you're acting the part anymore. The two of you are very, very close together now and the air feels charged, like it's full of static that's pulling you towards him. He's only a few inches away from your face and you can smell the sweet scent of lemon on his breath.
Reigen is still trying to play it cool, working hard to maintain his composure as though he isn't sweating nervously. “Maybe if you show him yours, he'll show you his.”
“Yeah?” The din of the restaurant is distant and muted, like your head is full of cotton wool, and all you can concentrate on is the way he keeps licking his lips.
Reigen meets your eyes again and there's a tiny glimmer of hopeful interest in them. He doesn't appear to be joking anymore. “Go ahead,” he mutters. “Run it by me first.”
You're practically touching noses by now, leant across the table in each other's space, and if you were to tilt your head only a tiny bit, to pull on his hand, to drag him down onto you, you think you might be able to finally get the real kiss you've been dreaming of since you-
“Are you ready for the bill?”
A voice cuts through the woolly atmosphere, loud and abrasive, and both of you almost fall off of your chairs in sheer surprise, jerking away and righting yourselves in your chairs. You whip your foot back, Reigen stops touching your hand, and the intimate air abruptly feels broken and ruined.
“Apologies,” says the waiter, not looking very sorry at all. “But we do need the table.”
You can barely look up at the guy, face burning hot. It feels like you’ve been caught in the broom closet with your boss, doing something far worse than winding each other up, and Reigen seems just as embarrassed. Awkwardly, he takes the small, folded piece of paper from the waiter and reaches into his back pocket for his card.
Reigen pays the whole bill and when you attempt to offer your half, he looks at you like you're insane. Typically, you split the bill with him whenever you go out to eat. He's a cheap bastard and you know better than to expect anything less, but he refuses your offer the second you hold out your own card.
He doesn't even complain about it, either, apparently just happy to have achieved his goal of qualifying for the discount he's been aiming for all night.
Once everything is settled, Reigen calls a cab for you both to share and the whole time you wait for it, you stand arm in arm with him, grinning like idiots and laughing together about cheating the system.
The taxi arrives quickly and in it, you sit closer to him than necessary, warm and toasty against his side.
The journey is quiet to begin with. You're sated and full, and still a little tipsy, so the silence isn't unpleasant. Slumped down in your seat, hiding your face from him, you can't stop turning over the memories of the dinner. He'd been so close to you, so within kissing distance, and you're too nervous to say anything about it in case he laughs you off.
What if he was just playing along? you think silently. What if I'm reading into it? The thought is nauseating. Perhaps you've sold the idea of dating him a bit too hard….
At your side, Reigen clears his throat softly and you shift so that you can see him properly. He’s sitting so close to you that your head is practically on his shoulder, and he looks down at you with a small, soft smile.
“Thanks,” he says quietly. “For coming. And for, y'know, going along with it. I hope it wasn't too weird.”
“I had a lot of fun, Reigen.” You laugh quietly. “Thank you. It was totally worth it.”
Reigen snorts. “I think we sold it pretty well, too,” he says. “Especially, y’know, on the way in.”
Oh, you think. The kiss.
“Sorry,” you duck your head and laugh, awkward. “I didn’t think he was gonna let us in and, well, you told me to make it work, so….”
He doesn't say anything and risking a look back up, you see that Reigen is watching you closely again, just as he had in the restaurant. Reigen smiles slightly, so warm and soft that your stomach feels like it might climb up your throat, and he looks down at your mouth again.
“Maybe I need to call HR,” he says with a half-laugh. “Kissing a subordinate is probably against some kinda law or something.”
There’s a playfulness in tone, like he's joking and simultaneously trying to see what your reaction to such a comment will be.
You decide to test the water. “Depends on whether the subordinate is into it, I guess….”
Reigen smirks, teasing, and a little bit relieved that you're not backing off. “I dunno, they didn’t get the chance to tell me.”
You realise he’s talking about the conversation you’d had before you had been so rudely interrupted, and your nerves flutter. Tonight has been full of flirting and teasing, and if you're still playing stupid games, you suppose you might as well go all in and see what happens.
You're both tipsy enough that you can play it off if he doesn't go for it. “Well,” you say, biting your lip. “I guess I'm pretty partial to a redhead. Especially if they’re in charge of me.”
“Yeah?” he says quietly, smile growing.
“And men with big mouths that they can't keep shut, too,” you smirk, glancing down at his.
“Noted,” he chuckles, his breath ghosting over your face. “Anything else you like?”
You look back up at his smug expression and decide you can't let him get too ahead of himself. “And swallowing.”
Reigen makes a funny noise, strangled and hoarse, and closes his eyes for a moment. “Fuck,” he murmurs. You can see his throat bob up and down as he tries to compose himself, and when he finally opens them again, he looks like he's struggling to keep it together. A blush crawls up his throat and the look in his eyes is so hungry it makes your knees go weak.
“Fuck HR,” Reigen says, and then sways forward slightly with the motion of the car and, leaning the rest of the way into your space, he ducks his head and kisses you.
Your eyes flutter shut and he cradles the side of your face, turning your head so he can get you exactly where he wants you.
It’s soft and nervous at first, like he's still not sure if he's making the right move and he pulls away almost as soon as he makes contact, only to return without hesitation for a second and a third at your insistent sounds. The chaste kisses become deeper as he lingers, slow and unhurried, and you can taste the sweetness from your desserts and drinks.
It’s so unbelievably fucking perfect.
You press your tongue against his and he gives a low groan, his hand finding your thigh to pull you closer. The kisses keep coming, his fingers trail upwards, crawling closer and closer to your lap, and you drag your teeth over his lower lip when he pulls away to breathe.
Reigen looks like he's had more than just a couple of cocktails to drink now; his face is redder than ever, his gaze glassy, and he's panting against your mouth like he's run a mile. You press another kiss to the corner of his lips and you shift in your seat, encouraging his hand to explore even higher.
He does as he’s asked, thick fingers slipping up between your legs and he leans down again to keep kissing you while he teases you through the fabric of your clothes.
You sigh into his mouth. His touch doesn’t feel like it’s anywhere near enough, the sensation dulled by your stupid fucking outfit, and you try to press up into him to seek out more.
Reigen laughs at your desperation, mumbling a stupid comment about being needy, and you bite his lip again in warning. “Careful,” You whisper, reaching over to palm him through his slacks with a smirk. “Don’t get smart.”
Reigen chokes out a grunt and his hips buck up of their own accord. He’s already hard, tenting his slacks, and you're not about to let him think he's in charge of the show. “HR won’t be happy if they find out I didn’t get my way,” you tut, rubbing his cock up and down slowly. “Then you will be in trouble.... And we don't want that, do we?”
Reigen hisses, eyes dark and pupils blown wide. He stares you down, challenging your gaze, and he smirks at your unwillingness to let him get away with being an asshole. He goes to kiss you again, surging forward, and then the taxi driver clears his throat very loudly.
You're yanked back into your surroundings. The car is parked up outside your apartment, engine running, and the driver is watching you in the mirror. He doesn't look very impressed. “You kids mind taking this somewhere else?”
You cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing and grab your bouquet of flowers, flinging open the door while Reigen grabs whatever cash he has in pocket and flings it into the driver's tray.
He scrambles out of the car, darts around the back and grabs you by the hand, dragging you away and ignoring the guy's shouts of how much he's overpaid.
You only live on the first floor. Your apartment is small and simple, so much so that it hardly qualifies as much more than a shoebox with a kitchen attached, and you have to shuffle around in the hallway in order to let Reigen get inside.
He passes down the hall and makes his way into the main room, and once you’ve locked the front door you go after him. He's hovering about in the tiny living area, hands in his pockets as he inspects your room, and you drop the flowers on your coffee table whilst he’s busy.
This is the first time he’s been in here. On a proper night out, you tend to crash at his if you can’t make it home; it’s marginally bigger than yours and the cab is cheaper, which means his place always wins out. It’s a new experience to have him in your space like this.
“This is nice,” Reigen says awkwardly, gesturing to the apartment at large. “Cozy.” He seems a little stiff, unsure what to do now that he’s here.
You snort, coming to stand in front of him. “What are you, an estate agent?” You put your hands on his chest and guide him backwards until his legs hit the edge of your bed, and he falls back with a soft thump!
Willing and able, Reigen makes room for you between his legs. He pushes himself up on his elbows and looks on as you begin to undress. Your movements are slow and deliberate, never once looking away from him, and you can see his breathing pick up in pace.
He’s hypnotised by every move you make. You shed your clothes until you're in just your underwear, exposed to him, and climb carefully into his lap. You take off his glasses and lean over to deposit them on the bedside table before going back to him.
Reigen's hands come up to hold your waist and he boosts himself upward to restart his feverish kisses. He's ungainly and needy, licking and biting his way back into your mouth while you start to strip him of his dress shirt. You make quick work of the buttons, slipping them out with deft fingers and peeling the fabric away.
You tug at the back of his shirt until it slips free of his slacks, hands wandering over his lower back as you explore his soft skin. Much to your delight, the muddy freckles on his face continue down his shoulders, cascading onto his upper arms and spattering the pale skin like paintbrush flecks.
Reigen's body is slight. Narrow and slim, yet soft at the edges. He isn't very muscular; you know he runs on the weekends and you suppose he stays reasonably fit in order to chase after the others at work, so there's a subtle hint of strength hidden underneath the puppy fat of his stomach.
It's more attractive than it has any right to be.
Without breaking away from his kisses, you slip your hands down his chest and work your fingers under his belt until you reach the buckle, blindly undoing it with practiced skill.
The metal gives way and you slide the leather from the pin quickly to give yourself easier access. You're about to do the same to the buttons when he pulls away from you panting hard and clinging to your hips.
You try to chase his mouth, still pressing open mouthed kisses there while he tries to speak.
“Wait, wait,” Reigen says, voice hoarse. “Hang on.”
“Are you alright?” You ask, leaning back to make sure he's okay.
Reigen looks bashful, eyes searching yours. He goes to say something and then stops himself, visibly nervous about whatever he intends to say. "I…" He sighs, closing his eyes to steel himself. Whatever is wrong, it’s enough for him to reconsider what he's doing.
He doesn't move you off of him, but he suddenly looks like he wants to hide away somewhere. His flirty confidence from earlier is gone, replaced with the same shyness he'd shown when you had kissed him at the restaurant.
You take his face in his hands and force him to look up at you again. “Reigen, what is it? If you're uncomfortable, we can-”
“No!” He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around your middle to keep you still. “It's not that, I just…. I'm-” Reigen groans, not out of pleasure but embarrassment, and he buries his face in your shoulder. “I haven't really…. Done this. Before”
“What, fuck an employee?” you say, laughing quietly. “It's alright, I was just kidding about making a complaint, I-”
“No, I mean this,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “Sex.”
You push at his chest until he has to sit up, revealing his cherry red face. He's uncharacteristically out of his depth and you're confused as to what he's saying . “You mean, like, it's been a while?” You ask.
Reigen grimaces, shaking his head. “Like, ever.”
“What?” You don't mean for the shock to show so obviously. He’s clearly already struggling and you gaping down at him like he’s mad won’t help the situation, however the idea that he’s never had sex before is utterly insane to you.
“I’m sorry,” Reigen apologises, avoiding meeting your eyes. He shuffles like he means to get up, jostling you about. “I didn’t wanna say anything, I know it’s stupid I can just go-”
“Reigen, stop,“ you put your hands on his shoulders and he stills, nervously glancing up at you through his lashes. He looks like he expects you to laugh at him, to kick him out now that you know his secret. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think it’d be a good topic over dinner,” Reigen huffs, rolling his eyes. “It’s embarrassing, obviously.” He’s very obviously humiliated by his admission and it makes your chest ache to see him so uncharacteristically vulnerable.
His point is valid enough; tonight was supposed to be fake, it’s not like there had been any need for him to tell you anything of the sort. Still, you feel a little bad for pushing him so much now. Admittedly it’s a surprise. He always seems to know what to say and being able to talk the talk usually gets you pretty far when it comes to sex, but the more you think about it, the more it starts to make sense.
All throughout dinner, he’d been happy to shoot the shit with you when he’d thought it was just a game, however the moment you’d done anything that even bordered on actual affection, he’d been decidedly less confident. Even in the car, his touches were hesitant and his kisses were unskilled.
You run a hand up his chest to soothe him, watching his tense shoulders relax. “Idiot,” you say, fond. “I don’t care.”
Reigen raises his eyebrows. “You don’t?”
“Not even a little bit,” you smile, leaning down to kiss him again.
Reigen doesn’t stop you. He breathes out heavily through his nose, gradually beginning to calm down, and you decide that things will have to go a little differently than you’d originally intended. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You murmur.
He nods quickly and you trail kisses from the side of his mouth down to his jaw line, open mouthed and hot, and he tips his head back with a groan. His skin tastes slightly salty, probably from sweating so much around you, and you drag your teeth over his pulse point.
Reigen sighs happily. He squeezes your hips, grabbing them gently and digging his blunt nails into the skin.
You slip out of your bra and toss it across the room. You stop bothering his neck in order to sit up, and you guide his hands up from your hips to caress your chest.
His big hands grope at you, squeezing experimentally as he explores the new sights, enjoying himself immensely. It makes you keen under his touch and he grins, his bravery growing at your enjoyment.
You unbutton his slacks whilst he's busy touching you up and slip a hand into them to palm at him through his underwear. Reigen grunts and presses his hips up into you, seeking friction to rut against, and you push down to meet him.
He gasps at the contact, his hold on your hips tightening, and before he can get carried away with dry humping you, you tug at his slacks and force him to stop. “Take these off,” you instruct, climbing off of his lap to give him room.
Reigen scrambles to shove off his trousers, kicking them away with his underwear and shuffling back into place, lightning fast. His eagerness is horribly endearing and it makes you grin. You slip out of your underwear and push him back against the pillows. “Lay back,” you smile.
Reigen does as he's told and with him flat on his back, you can finally see him as exactly as you've imagined. A trail of deep red hair leads down to a small patch that surrounds his thick cock, well kept and neat.
His thighs are curved nicely, long legs stretching down to hang off of your bed, and they show far more evidence of his exercise than his upper body. Regardless, he's gorgeous from head to toe. It drives you insane and you drink in the view for a second.
Reigen begins to look a little self-conscious at your attention. He squirms under your scrutiny and you're quick to settle his fear, straddling his waist and kissing him again until he forgets all about his worry.
You trade touches with him, hands roaming over one another as you make out for a while and Reigen's bravery begins to grow. He's encouraged by your soft sighs and casual exploration of his own body, and quite bravely he walks his fingers down from your hip to your bare pussy.
Your breath catches and you look down to him, giving him the silent go ahead.
Reigen bites his lower lip. He looks excited and shy all at the same time. Very carefully, he runs his fingers along the soft folds of you and studies your face to see how you react to his touches.
You gasp and tilt your body towards him, opening your legs to give him better access to you. His fingertips meet wetness and he makes a soft sound, both interested and surprised, and he trails them through your arousal.
Reigen is so busy investigating the feeling that he seems to forget that you're attached to the other end. He toys with your pussy, listening to you gasp and moan, grinning to himself greedily.
“Reigen,” you whine, reaching down to cover his hand with your own. “Put your fucking fingers in me before I-!”
He does as you ask, pushing one into your cunt and silencing your command. You moan loudly and push down onto his hand, desperately seeking more.
“Should I just….” Reigen looks a little awkward, unsure how to proceed, and with your hand that holds his wrist, you guide his finger in and out slowly.
“Keep doing that,” you sigh. “That's perfect.” The motion makes you shudder and you grab at his shoulder with your other hand. Reigen works his hand up and down, slow and steady as though he has all the time in the world.
You’re so wet that he hardly has to wait to add a second finger and you encourage him along to keep him calm.
Reigen appears to be enjoying the praise you give. His cock is hard against your hip, precum smearing against the skin when you shift, and he rocks into you in time with his fingers.
As he moves his digits within you, you lean back to take hold of his cock, squeezing him gently. Reigen practically mewls when you do so, cock twitching in your grip.
You bring your hand back to spit in it and gently, you coat his cock until it's wet enough to glide your hand along smoothly, starting to stroke him.
Reigen gasps and bucks upward into your hold, desperate for more as he grips the sheets with his free hand. He adds another finger into you carefully, watching your face with barely concealed awe. His fingers inside you burn in the best way, and Reigen's digits curl perfectly to hit your sweetest spot, making you cry out.
He pauses for a second, frightened he might have done something wrong, and you shake your head at his silent query. “Don’t stop,” you say, breathless.
Reigen nods and moves in time with you for a minute, unable to look away from where you sit above him. His hand speeds up as yours does and within minutes, Reigen is falling apart under your touch.
Worried he'll get carried away, you lift up off of his hand and guide his fingers out. At first, he protests with an annoyed grunt, trying to snatch you back down, and you shove him back by his chest, grinning.
Reigen looks confused until you shift backward to hover over his cock and he catches on quickly.
“Ready?” You ask, making sure he's okay.
Reigen nods quickly and takes hold of your waist. “Fuck, yes, please.”
You can't help but tease him a little, rubbing the head of his erection over your cunt for a moment and watching how easily he works himself up with unrestrained glee.
He goes to say something smart and you seize the chance to catch him off guard. You ease your weight down onto him until finally, you're completely filled by him. It feels so good you cry out and pitch forward, bracing your hands on his chest.
Reigen chokes out a moan, grip on your waist tightening, and he screws his eyes shut. He tenses for a moment, trying to calm himself before he can manage to go on. As much as you'd like to let loose, you force yourself to be patient. If he's never done this before then you can't ride him too hard to begin with. He'll come in five seconds flat and you're desperate to feel him for as long as possible.
“Relax,” you coo, covering his hands with your own. “Look at me.”
Reigen manages to open his eyes and you smile, reassuring. “Take a deep breath, don't panic.” You say, running your thumbs over his hands. “You're doing so well.”
Reigen blushes and manages a sheepish smile, breathing in and out slowly.
After a long minute, Reigen nods for you to go on, and you lift yourself up and down slowly, thighs straining as you move. He watches you in disbelief for a second, like he's committing the sight of you to memory, and a big grin crawls onto his face. “Fuck,” he gasps. “You're so fucking hot.”
The compliment is unexpected and you feel your face warm up. Having his fingers in you feels like nothing in comparison to the way he's looking at you right now, hungry for more and leering at the sight of you on his cock.
You can't stop yourself from smiling and you roll your hips forward, slow to begin with. Each move has you both moaning and sighing, encouraging each other to give more and more until you're not sure who's fucking who anymore.
Reigen's eyes roll back when you speed up, eyes fluttering to stay open. His fingers are digging into your skin and the thrill of being bruised by him runs straight to your pussy.
The room fills with only tiny moans and sounds of fucking; No smart come backs, no more faking, just pure pleasure and excitement.
With a good pace set, you run your fingers over your clit, sighing happily as you circle your touch. It feels so good that you can't even focus on keeping rhythm, your hips stuttering a little.
Reigen seizes the moment to take charge of the moment instead of letting you control the movements, and he fucks up into you. His confidence is unexpected so you barely have time to process what happens, falling forward and leaning on his chest for support. His gaze moves from your face to where your tits bounce, and back up again. He meets your eyes and the sight of one another is enough to make both of you laugh.
He sits up a bit and presses your foreheads together, kissing you over and over, messy and uncoordinated as he gets closer. You both make soft little sounds, panting into each others space like you're desperate for air, and as your fingers work furiously over your clit, you begin to feel a coil build in your stomach; you're so close you feel like you might explode, and you cry out when Reigen snaps his hips particularly hard.
It's enough to force you over the edge and you tighten around him, body shuddering as your climax hits you. You moan his name loudly as the waves wash over you and the sensation is obviously too much for Reigen, because he buries his face in your neck and makes the most obscene noise you've ever heard.
It's somewhere between a sob and a moan, but his voice breaks halfway through and he bites down hard on your neck to stifle himself.
You can feel him cum inside you, cock twitching, and you collapse forward onto him the second he's done. Both of you go limp, lying pressed up against each other as you try to catch your breath again. Neither of you move for a while and it isn’t until you feel your thighs begin to cramp that you decide you’re going to have to get off. You lift up off of him carefully and you both groan at the loss as he slips out from you, cum trailing after his soft cock, and you flop beside him on the bed.
Reigen looks thoroughly fucked. His hair is astray and his mouth is red, lips bitten and slightly swollen from all the attention you’ve given them throughout tonight. You know you probably don’t look much better, but you’re so exhausted you can’t bring yourself to care.
You shuffle up into his side and Reigen tucks an arm under you, pulling you in close. Your eyes are growing heavy against your will and Reigen drags your leg up over his hips to make you more comfortable.
He draws circles on your skin with his thumb, breathing slowing to a normal pace. The silence is comfortable and calming, and you’re almost drifting off by the time you manage to speak again.
“You okay?" you whisper, peering up at him.
Reigen hums, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Yeah,” he says, sounding entertained. “Very.”
You laugh quietly to yourself at his smug face and snuggle closer to his side. He squeezes your upper arm gently and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
"Are you?” He asks.
“Definitely,” you sigh happily and close your eyes. “I think we went above and beyond to convince that place tonight, don’t you?”
Reigen smiles into your hair. “Eh, maybe we should go out a few more times. Just to make sure.”
You grin into the crook of his neck. “Sure, if you’re paying.”
Reigen chuckles and gives your ass a gentle slap. “Only if you show me how much you really like swallowing.”
“Deal.”
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heart4gyu · 10 days
Text
the sundress theory || 02z x reader
note: once again i got this idea off tiktok so if it’s familiar that’s why lol… i was gonna do a full story for one member but then i couldn’t choose (they’ve been bias wrecking me so bad recently TT) so i’ll write this in celebration of 02z subunit coming soon!! pls leave comments it rly encourages me hope u enjoyyy ^_^
warnings: mdni, very suggestive, jake gets a lil jealous [sunghoon’s part is coming soon but i rly rly wanted to get this posted today TT so enjoy this for now :3]
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park jongseong
“baby, can you come in here for a second,” you called out from your bedroom. you and jay had plans to go out and spend the day together, but while choosing your outfit you decided it would be a great opportunity to test out your little theory.
the moment he steps past the door, he stops dead in his tracks. you watch his eyes look you up and down, with his mouth gaped open.
“can you zip me up, please?” you ask, politely, acting oblivious to his reaction. he blinks a couple times before swallowing dryly and walking up to you.
“… this dress new?” he says, clearing his throat, which is unexplainably dry. his palms sweaty as he reaches for the zipper and trying to not stare so shamelessly at the view of your side boob.
“yeah, i wanted to wear it for you today since we’re going out,” you say as he finishes zipping you up. you turn to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, smiling innocently. his cheeks are a faint shade of red and he hesitates to touch you but it’s so cute since you’ve never seen him act this way. but the second his hands are on your waist, gripping the material of the dress, his whole demeanor changes.
“why don’t we stay in today instead?” he asks, turning your body to face your full length mirror, hands caressing your waist.
“but i thought you said you wanted to go try that new steak house?” you say, watching the way he’s looking at you through the mirror. he shakes his head, making eye contact with you in the mirror. he trails a couple kisses from your shoulder up to right behind your ear.
“i’m not really hungry for that anymore,” he says, his hand reaching around to grab your chin and turn your face towards him. your heart racing when you see how dark his eyes look now and he gives a small smirk to your reaction before leaning in to kiss you passionately. “there’s something else that i want…”
“hmm…” you pretend to think it over, turning to face him again and walking him back to the bed. “as long as you promise to make me a real good dinner afterwards,” you say, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
“of course, darling, we’ll both have something to enjoy tonight,” he says, a satisfied smile on his face. you reach for the zipper but he stops you. he quickly switches your positions and lays you down on the bed. “you can leave it on.”
sim jaeyun
jake was fine. he was holding it together just fine. when you showed him the dress at home, he swore his heart stopped beating for a second, but he was fine.
“what do you think?” you said, stepping out into the living room, where he was waiting for you on the couch. his jaw dropped slightly as he looked up at you from his phone.
“what do i think?!” he said, his undivided attention on you now. he approached you, very gently placed his hands on your shoulders and dragging them down your arms, taking in the full image of you. “you look gorgeous, angel.”
and he complimented you the whole rest of the morning. he complimented you in the car on the way to your usual coffee shop. even when he was sitting at the table watching you order the drinks at the counter, he was thinking of all the compliments he’d give you when you came back.
though, it wasn’t until he noticed the barista that he realized everyone else could see how beautiful you looked too. jake watched him point down towards your dress and say something, then, saw you place a hand on your chest and reply something back, a shy smile on your face. this unsettled jake but he didn’t want to make it obvious.
“what was that about?” he asked as you sat down next to him with your drinks.
“what?” you replied, having let the conversation with the barista completely slip your mind.
“the guy… what did he say to you?” he pressed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to him by your hip. his face was only a couple inches away from yours when you looked over at him. he was watching you so intently, you couldn’t help but giggle a bit at how cute he was.
“jaeyun,” you laughed, cupping his cheek and maintaining eye contact with him. “he just said my dress was pretty, it didn’t mean anything from him.”
that and a lil peck to his cheek was enough to get jake to drop the issue. you finished your drinks and headed back to car, where he was still a little pouty.
“jakey… his compliment meant nothing after all the nice things you’ve said to me today, you know that right?” you said, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips. he nodded, leaning in for more and who were you to reject him now.
“i know i believe you, but can we just go home now?” he said, with his eyes closed and lips still touching with yours. then you felt his cold hand come in contact with your upper thigh making you gasp.
“why do you want to go home? we were supposed to go shopping…” you said, observing the way his chest rose and fell, heavily.
“can i be honest?” he asked, opening his eyes now to see your response. you simply nodded and he sat up a bit, sliding his hand under your dress now making you press your thighs together. “i really wanna clear off the back seat and take you right here.”
you did, in fact, let him take you back home… and yes, he made it up to you by taking you on a shopping spree the next day.
park sunghoon
coming soon !!
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confused-wanderer · 1 year
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After several posts and headcanons and theories, I have come to a conclusion: Dick and Jason have a more or less similar relationship to Steve and Bucky. Think about it.
The “Golden boy” and “sweetheart” who is constantly praised and looked upto, yet only the other one truly knows how feral the other is cuz they knew them long before shit hit the fan and they KNOW that chaotic gremlin hasn’t gone- it’s just been better at not getting caught.
IMAGINE:
Jason coming back from the dead just to hear everyone talking about Dick as if he’s a God, and stopping himself from dragging his brother down there cuz only ONE of them has put people in hospitals, left every criminal with PTSD and Jason aint it. Sure, he’s making up for it but Dicks got a fucking head start.
Jason being the only one who can see right thru Dicks bullshit and is full aware of chaotic-feral-no-self-preservation-don’t-believe-me-then-WATCH Dick fucking Grayson. It’s why during operations he loves pairing up with Dick cuz the guy has sheer unconventionality and Jason is HERE for it.
Some new hero: Oh my god Nightwing’s so calm and always knows what he’s doing!
Jason *flashbacks to last night when Dick tried to cook pasta and ended up blasting his bathtub and frantically calling Jason over while the pasta kept exploding in the background and he didn’t want to piss off Alfred*
Justice league: Nightwing always knows the right things to do, and knows how to act in every situation.
Jason *thanking god his mask was on so no one could see him dying cuz before he died Dick had literally stolen the Batmobile and allowed Jason to joyride; was also the same person who taught Jason how to hit clean cuts and decimate any opponent by any, and I mean ANY means necessary*
New teen titans: Gah Nightwing is so professional!!
Jason *remembers when Dick yelled “want some GROUND for your coffee DIRTBAG?!” Before throwing sand in their faces and absolutely demolishing them by fighting dirtier than Jason had seen anyone*
And Dicks grateful cuz Jason’s the person all his guard crumbles in front of. One who knows what he’s thinking, knows the real him. Someone he doesn’t have to pretend in front of, and would help him no matter what happens, even if he gets a earful later.
Jason’s the mother hen, and Dicks the idiot who would throw himself in danger every chance he gets.
It’s also why all the OG teen titans and Jason both meet up for tea just to talk about Dicks shit and silently agree to form an alliance. It’s their bonding point and now they hang out a lot too.
Dick has a feeling something’s going on, but he’s too afraid to ask.
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katelynnwrites · 4 months
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One Single Thread Of Gold (Tied Me To You) | Laura Freigang x Sydney Lohmann
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warnings: not proof read oopsie
word count: 4151
summary: the invisible string theory is the idea that those who are destined to meet will meet, regardless of time, place or circumstance. sydney and laura are two such people.
a/n: no i don't ship them together in real life, i just wanted to write this <3
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Contrary to what most people think, Laura and Sydney have not known each other for that long.
Really, they’d only met in 2019.
Sydney had been trying to lock down her position on the senior team for a year when Laura got called up for the first time.
Of course, they had both heard about each other before that.
Laura had heard all about the younger midfielder who’s already becoming known as somewhat of a generational talent and the Bayern Munich player had heard all about the striker who is working her way up the Frauen Bundesliga’s top scorers list.
Like the sun orbiting the Earth, the Eintracht Frankfurt player and Sydney have been orbiting each other.
The two year age difference had kept them from meeting while on the youth teams, with Laura always being one age group ahead.
As fate would have it, one of them had always been out injured with one thing or another when their clubs played each other.
So it’s with nothing but knowledge of each other’s reputations that they meet.
And right away Sydney is sure that Laura is and will forever be the prettiest girl she has ever seen.
There was just something about her nervous energy and shy demeanor that pulled Syd in.
She was standing hesitantly to the side of the group, not really knowing anyone and not really being brave enough to approach just yet.
Ever the social butterfly, Syd separates from her Bayern teammates and walks up to Laura right away.
‘Hallo’ She greets.
The forward jumps slightly, having been startled by Sydney’s sudden presence.
‘Sorry h-hi. Hello.’ Laura stammers.
She holds out her hand and the midfielder grins, sticking out her own hand to shake Laura’s.
Laura who gets so lost in the Bayern player’s hazel eyes and brilliant smile that she doesn’t let go of Sydney’s hand.
It takes her at least a full minute to realise her mistake and when she does, she hurriedly drops Syd’s hand.
‘Fuck I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought about giving you a hug but I didn’t want to seem too forward and so I decided on a handshake but I think that’s too German of me? Doesn’t matter though, I made it awkward and now you must think I’m the weirdest person ever.’ Laura rambles, her cheeks rapidly growing redder and redder.
Sydney laughs, a bright melodic sound.
‘Not at all but we can start over if you’d like?’
‘T-That would be nice.’
The midfielder giggles again, ‘Hi I’m Syd and it’s really nice to meet you.’
‘Hey I’m Laura. It’s lovely to meet you too.’ The older player softly says.
A smile tugs on her lips and then Sydney unexpectedly pulls Laura into a tight hug, whispering in her ear, ‘And it’s not too much to hug.’
As the Eintracht Frankfurt player melts into the taller woman’s embrace, she notes that Sydney smells like a smell she had long forgotten existed.
She can’t even describe what the smell is like, all she knows is that at some point in her childhood she had smelt it and remembered feeling safe.
One could say that Sydney smells kinda like home to her.
******
The younger blonde doesn’t know what it is about striker but she just clicks with her.
They get along so well that after their first few camps together, anyone would think they have known each other for a lifetime.
Syd is aware that she’s been smitten with Laura from the very first moment they met.
She’s accepted that.
What she is finding completely out of her depth is the way the Eintracht Frankfurt player pays attention to her.
Laura is always watching, always listening and she catalogues her knowledge of Sydney like it’s her favourite thing to do.
She remembers the Munich native’s coffee order, her habits and what comforts her.
The striker focuses particularly on what makes Sydney happy.
Favourite flower, favourite books, favourite type of food. Laura knows it all.
And when Sydney questions it, the older woman simply replies, ‘Isn’t that what friends do?’
She says it so confidently and so easily that the blonde midfielder believes it.
She lets herself believe it for a long time.
Days turn into weeks, then months and eventually years.
Time is a curious thing. It gave no compasses and no signs as to when things would change between Sydney and Laura.
It is really not till the Euros in England that Sydney picks up on a clue that Laura may view her as more than just a friend.
Losing the final to the Lionesses is a hard blow but their team is determined to celebrate their own success.
So they throw a party in their hotel and the younger blonde is entirely surprised when the striker turns up in her jersey.
She’d not thought much of it when Laura had asked for one of her jerseys, simply thinking that the Eintracht Frankfurt player wanted it for her collection. She knows that Laura likes to swap jerseys.
But for all of their teammates and family members to be dressed up nicely and the forward to be aware of the fact and still make the decision to rep her name?
Well Sydney is starstruck by it.
She cannot stop looking at Laura who is dancing and bopping around to the loud music. She’s the life of the party.
She might have been shy when they initially met but now that she’s comfortable around the team, her outgoing personality is really shining through.
Some part she didn’t know existed inside of her loves her last name on the former Penn State player’s back.
Laura had paired the home jersey with light washed jeans and done her hair up in a messy bun. The midfielder appreciates the sliver of exposed skin on the taller woman’s stomach, courtesy of the way she has the top tucked up.
Her Olympus film camera is on its lanyard around her body.
That film camera had gone everywhere with the forward during their Euros journey and as Sydney continues being mesmerised by Laura, she comes to the startling realisation that she has been the main subject of Laura’s viewfinder.
She’d not thought about it before but now, she can’t help but think about every instance where Laura had taken a photo of her.
Casual photos of her in her street clothes, candid ones of her after games and simple ones where it was just her being herself in their hotel room.
Were there other clues that she didn’t see? And if so, how many?
Still, Laura doesn’t say anything or make a move so neither does Sydney. Even if Laura’s smile gives her butterflies and lights up her day.
******
The slightly older of the pair thinks time is mystical.
She’s known Sydney for four years now and it seems like no time has passed.
The time they spend at camp, joined at the hip just like they were at eighteen and twenty still never feels like enough.
They make the most of it but leaving back to their respective clubs have always been hard.
Laura misses Sydney like she’s missing some part of herself when they are apart. She can pinpoint the exact moment in time that she thinks the Bayern Munich player might feel the same way.
It’s not long after things have begun to go back to normal after Covid when Sydney takes full advantage and shows up to one of Laura’s games in Frankfurt.
The older blonde will never forget how warm her heart had felt when she spotted the midfielder in the crowd, just before halftime.
Sydney had shot her a wide grin as she noticed and Laura had played the rest of the match with a unique lightness.
She’d also gone all out to impress, scoring two more goals in the second half to complete her hattrick.
‘For you.’ The striker had murmured as she presented the match ball to Sydney.
Sydney who blushes a light pink and accepts it, before pointing out that it’s not yet signed.
Laura giggles before finding a Sharpie and signing it.
Then after a brief moment of consideration, she adds a heart.
The midfielder carefully brushes her finger over it, a soft smile growing on her face.
She tucks the ball under her arm protectively, ‘Thank you Lau. You played amazingly today.’
Now it’s Laura’s turn to have her cheeks flush.
’Did my best to put on a show cause I had a special someone watching today. Speaking of said someone, what are you doing here?’
Sydney laughs, tucking a few strands of loose hair behind her ear.
‘I had a couple days off and I thought I would surprise you. Seeing you at camp just isn’t enough.’
Laura swallows the rising emotion in her throat.
‘I missed you too.’
******
Sydney and Laura dance around their feelings for years.
After the Euros, they are both somewhat aware that the feelings they individually harbour are reciprocated.
But it is not till their Morocco trip, more than a year later that things actually change.
They’ve been shifting a bit with the two growing even closer than before in the lead up to the World Cup.
Germany is not doing too well and the anxiety, pressure and stress that builds draw them together, more than ever before.
They even lose their things in the airport together, Sydney her phone and headphones, Laura her passport for the ten most stressful minutes of her life.
They’re made for each other and yet they choose to mutually pine after one other.
When the younger German woman gets injured in the last training session before their first match of the tournament, Laura worries herself sick.
She’s physically ill with nerves and throws up as she waits for the Bayern Munich midfielder to get back from her MRI scan.
The striker couldn’t accompany Sydney to her scans because she had to finish up the training session with the rest of the team, so she is left to anxiously pace her and Lina’s shared apartment.
She keeps her phone close but as hard as she’s willing it to happen, does not receive any messages or calls from the younger blonde.
Laura is fearing that she might vomit again when there’s a knock on her door.
She flies to open it and nearly pulls Sydney into her arms when she sees her standing there.
The Eintracht Frankfurt player only doesn’t because of Sydney’s heavily bandaged knee and gently places her arms around the taller woman instead.
‘Just a slight sprain. Martina isn’t sending me home so I'll be available for selection after the first game.’ Sydney murmurs.
‘Syd…’ She sighs in relief.
‘I was so scared.’ The midfielder confesses shakily.
‘Me too. Me too.’
Laura holds Sydney closer and firmer, the two of them simply standing in the doorway for a long moment.
******
The way their World Cup run ends devastates them both but the midfielder more so.
Her sobs echo long into the night, Laura’s arms tightly wrapped around her waist, providing some semblance of comfort.
She cries and cries, the forward doing everything she can to assure Sydney that she did not let anyone down.
‘You were not selfish. You are not selfish. You had the courage to fail and that makes you the bravest person I know.’ Laura promises.
The shorter blonde tries to make her see that her two solo attempts on goal, in her only forty three minutes of World Cup playing time is an impressive feat. One that she should be proud of, given the pressure she had been under.
Sydney’s body shakes with the force of her emotions but she manages to turn her face into the side of Laura’s neck, burying it there.
The Eintracht Frankfurt player feels the drops of salty tears against her skin and eventually in the material of her shirt as they soak through.
Her own tears drip down the sides of her face and onto the pillow but she’s got the younger German woman in her arms so she is sure she is going to be alright. She puts her faith in the Bayern midfielder.
The woman in question is completely shattered but she knows that she will be okay because Laura’s got her.
Laura has never let her down before and Sydney has no reason to doubt her now.
******
It’s shortly after Christmas when Sydney finds out that Laura has a girlfriend.
Well she sorta finds out from social media.
She’s hanging out with a few of her club teammates at a dive bar and aimlessly scrolling through Twitter as she waits for Lina to come back with the drinks.
She doesn’t usually spend much of her time on social media but every now and then she does look through the various platforms.
A particular post catches her eye, her stomach dropping when she sees that it’s speculation on Laura’s love life.
The hazel eyed woman knows that fans can sometimes get carried away but when she clicks on the post, she realises it’s part of a thread.
The more she looks at the sequence of posts, the more uncertain she feels.
Laura would tell her if she were seeing someone right?
Sydney feels like her world is tilting off balance.
The striker means so much more to her then she lets on and now she can’t help but regret that decision.
She’s too late. The Eintracht Frankfurt player has moved on.
A weak exhale leaves her and she takes several deep breaths rapidly in a desperate attempt to steady herself.
It must not be working because there’s a hand on her shoulder, tapping her frantically.
‘W-What?’ She chokes out.
‘Sydney are you okay?’
‘Yeah why wouldn’t I be?’
Her voice sounds flat even to her own ears and Giulia clearly doesn’t buy it.
‘Syd are you sure? You look really pale.’
The midfielder does her best to feign coughing and stands up, saying, ‘I’m sorry but I actually think I’m coming down with something. I’ll take a rain check for our night out okay?’
‘Sure, feel better soon Syd. Do you want one of us to drop you home?’
Giulia, Lea and Maxi all offer to but Sydney shakes her head.
‘I’m okay to get home on my own. It’s not far anyway.’
‘Send me a text when you get home so that I know you are safe.’ Lea calls out as the German midfielder begins to leave.
Sydney gives a half hearted wave and quickly makes her way to her car.
As soon as she’s in the vehicle, she begins to cry.
She should have said something earlier, should have told Laura even a fraction of what she feels for her.
A fraction would have been better than nothing at all.
She thought she and Laura had been growing closer and she’s been working up the courage to say something for a while.
She should have worked faster because the older blonde has obviously gotten tired of waiting. She just thought that Laura was content with the way things were between them.
The forward never said anything so Sydney never thought otherwise.
Maybe she should have.
It’s perfectly bad timing on the former Penn State player’s part to call then.
The younger of the pair hesitates, staring at the ringing phone in her hand.
Laura’s contact is a familiar one and Sydney vividly remembers taking the photo for it.
She had sneakily snapped it with the shorter blonde’s own camera while she had been sleeping on the long plane ride to Australia.
Her hair is adorably mussed up in it and if one squinted, they can see drool in the corner of Laura’s open mouth.
Waru is featured too, the knitted koala having been loosely tucked into the striker’s arms as she slept.
The Bayern midfielder had never told Laura that she had been the one to take the photo but the older woman had known immediately.
She’d sent the photo, along with a rolled eyes emoji to Sydney as soon as she received the developed film photos back.
Sydney has never hesitated when it comes to the forward, except when it came to sharing her feelings for her.
Now as her finger hovers over the accept call button, she is terribly afraid that she is going to be responsible for her own heartbreak.
Biting her lip hard, she swipes to pick up the call.
‘Hey Syd!’ Laura excitedly greets.
‘Hi.’ The hazel eyed woman softly answers.
She tilts her head upwards, trying to keep a fresh wave of tears from falling.
‘Sydney? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I’m okay Laura.’
There’s a brief moment of silence on the other end and then the striker gently says, ‘Syd you don’t sound okay…you sound like you’ve been crying…’
‘Haven’t been.’ Sydney tries to insist.
‘Sydney whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here for you no matter what.’
Laura’s tone is earnest and the younger blonde can no longer choke down the lump in her throat.
Gripping her phone tightly, she covers her mouth in a failed effort to stifle the broken sob that escapes.
‘Sydney? Syd please, what's wrong?’ The Eintracht Frankfurt player begs.
The midfielder doesn’t know it but Laura is pacing her apartment, close to tears herself because of how helpless she feels.
Sydney sounds so sad and in pain and she can’t help her because she doesn’t know why.
In her car, the Munich native lets out a trembling whimper.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?’
Her sentence is filled with a hurt so raw that Laura feels it all the way over in her different city.
‘I-I’m happy for you but I just…I just-’
The midfielder can’t continue, too focused on trying to breathe through her tears.
‘Syd I don’t have a girlfriend. Where did you hear that?’
At her words, Sydney feels her heart ease.
It’s like the tight band constricting it disappears. All of a sudden, her heart is beating properly again.
‘Y-You don’t?’ The hazel eyed woman tentatively stammers.
‘I don’t.’ Laura confirms.
‘I’m sorry. I saw a post on Twitter and I clicked on it and then it was a whole thread and I couldn’t stop looking at it. I’m sorry I lost my mind a little. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Sydney rambles.
‘Syd it’s okay. Really it’s okay. Social media can get to you sometimes.’ The striker reassures her.
Sydney lets out a relieved breath and whispers a small, ‘I’m sorry. I’m okay now I promise.’
It’s quiet on Laura’s end for a moment before she softly says, ‘Hey Syd? You never have to worry about me getting a girlfriend because you would be the first one to know if I did. I only have eyes for one person.’
’You do?’
If the midfielder’s voice was barely audible before, it’s tiny now.
‘Yeah.’
Laura’s own voice is minute too but she has never meant anything more.
******
It’s a week later at New Year’s that Sydney and Laura reunite.
The hazel eyed woman doesn’t say a word, simply walking into Laura’s arms as she stands waiting by the check in counter.
She fits perfectly into them, tucking her face into the side of the shorter blonde’s neck.
Her arms instinctively go around Laura’s waist and she presses a short kiss onto the striker’s sensitive skin.
Laura gasps faintly, staring at Sydney with wide eyes when she steps back.
‘What was that for?’
The midfielder simply smiles gently, ‘You aren’t the only one with eyes for only one person.’
******
Gold was the colour of the leaves on the tree in front of their rented villa.
It’s by the beach and Laura squeezes Sydney’s hand in hers as they pull their respective suitcases into the door.
There’s four bedrooms but the Bayern midfielder refuses to let go of the forward’s hand so with a bright grin, Laura tugs her into the closest bedroom.
Sam and Klara watch them go with a shared glance and rolled eyes.
Klara in particular knows that it’s been a long time coming. She’s seen the longing glances and noticed their growing affection towards each other.
Inside the bedroom, Sydney tosses her backpack on the floor and turns around to face the older German woman.
Laura’s about four centimeters shorter than her so she has to tilt her head upwards to meet the midfielder’s eyes.
‘Syd.’ She breathes.
‘Lau.’ Sydney whispers back.
She’s known for years that Laura is beautiful. She has had the colour of the striker’s eyes memorised and has dreamt of kissing her ever since they met.
The taller blonde is completely lost in Laura’s gaze, so much so that she misses the Eintracht Frankfurt player lunging for the stack of pillows on the bed until it’s too late.
‘Laura!’ Sydney cries out, reaching backwards for her own pillow.
The forward giggles, swinging her pillow at the Munich native.
Sydney eagerly makes up for lost time, joining in the pillow fight that Laura’s started.
‘I hope you know what you’ve begun.’ The midfielder teases.
Laura only smirks confidently in response and the two of them trade swats with the pillows until they physically can’t, laughing too hard to continue.
******
Time, wondrous time, gives Sydney and Laura the blues and then purple pink skies.
Morocco’s sunset is the most gorgeous that they’ve ever seen.
They’re sitting on the beach in front of their rented villa, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon on their final night before they fly back to Germany.
Sydney’s settled between the forward’s legs, contently leaning back against her chest.
Laura slips her hand into the midfielder’s, her heart warming when the younger blonde raises their joined hands and places a kiss onto the back of her hand.
It’s the latest in a series of kisses that Sydney has gifted the Eintracht Frankfurt player with over the duration of their trip. She’s placed them on the back of her shoulders, the inside of her wrists, cheeks, hands and forehead.
The past few days have been heaven for the both of them. They have learnt to surf, fooled around and soaked in the Moroccan sun with their friends.
They’ve also shared a bedroom and gone to sleep cuddled in each other’s arms every night.
It’s given the midfielder a kind of peace she has never experienced before.
‘Laura?’
Sydney’s murmur of her fellow blonde’s name is soft and tender.
The very sound of it gives Laura butterflies inside.
‘Yes Syd?’
‘I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve never felt what I feel for you for anyone else.’
Laura smiles and she lightly pulls Sydney closer to her.
‘I’ve never met anyone like you either. What I feel for you is beyond what I feel for anyone else.’
Sydney turns around, running her thumb across the striker’s cheekbone.
The action is immeasurably adoring and Laura instinctively leans into her touch.
‘Isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? Because there is no other way to explain how strong of a connection we have. I know that you’re it for me. You’re my person Lau.’ Sydney confesses.
Laura’s gray eyes shine.
‘You’re the only one for me too, Syd.’
The Bayern player gently cups the forward’s face, ‘What I’m trying to say is that I love you. I love you Laura.’
‘I love you too Sydney. Incredibly, ardently and with everything that I am.’
There is no hesitation in Laura’s answer. Why would there be when she’s known for years?
Sydney lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.
‘Can I kiss you? Please Lau-’
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, the blonde striker pressing her lips onto Sydney’s and cutting her off.
Sydney gasps into Laura’s mouth, right away realising that she’s never going to have enough.
The taste of Laura is everything and more, the midfielder slipping her hands into the Eintracht Frankfurt player’s hair fervently.
She leans back after a minute, reluctantly breaking the kiss just to look at Laura and desperately try to memorise the moment.
Then she pulls her right back in.
With Sydney’s lips on hers, Laura is certain beyond belief that every other kiss she’s had in her life has been wrong.
There’s solely Sydney. Sydney is the only thing that matters.
******
Later as she curls up to sleep, tucked into her girlfriend’s side, she’ll tell her that she is so very grateful for their invisible string. The one that’s brought them together.
Sydney will agree and then kiss her again. And her kiss will take the very air out of Laura’s body and give it back. It will not matter that her girlfriend’s lips are already on hers.
All that she’ll want is Sydney, closer and closer and closer.
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German Translation:
hallo - hello
122 notes · View notes
rubyreduji · 1 year
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The Valentine's Day Date — hvc
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summary: the guys are determined to find vernon a date for valentine’s day
tags: fluff, college!au, gn!reader wc: 2.8k an: i don’t personally have a v-day date so i get to write abt kpop boys instead lol. this whole story is just brain vomit so it probably doesn’t make sense or anything and that’s okay lol i hope you still like it
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“So Vernon, what are your plans in two weeks?”
“Two weeks?” Vernon looks up from his spot on the couch to his roommate who is staring at him expectantly. 
“Valentine’s Day? It’s in a few days. Do you have plans?” Jeonghan continues to press.
“No? Why would I have plans?”
“Because I have plans and need you out of the apartment,” Jeonghan says and Vernon finally gets it. “Preferably until morning.”
“Until morning? What am I supposed to do?” Vernon finally turns his full attention to Jeonghan. It’s a well known fact in their friend group that Vernon is the “Single One” out of them and on top of that he likes to spend time with at home rather than going out. 
“I don’t know, maybe go on a date? It is going to be Valentine’s Day.” Jeonghan just shrugs and walks away, his business settled. Vernon just huffs and sinks further into the couch. Some roommate he has.
“I heard you were on the lookout for a date for Valentine’s Day,” Seungkwan opens with as he sits down next to his best friend in the dining hall.
“Jeonghan wants me to find a date so I can get out of the apartment for him. I’m probably just going to spend the night in the studio or the library or something.”
“The studio? The library? Since when have you turned into Jihoon and Wonwoo? Let me help you find a date. It will be fun,” Seungkwan says.
“I don’t know Kwan…”
“It will be perfect I promise!” With that Seungkwan jumps up and runs off, despite just sitting down moments before. Vernon shakes his head.
He loves his friends, he really does, but he doesn’t see what the big deal is. Valentine’s Day is a day for people who are already dating, not for single guys like him. It’s been years since Vernon has even gone on a real date. He’s not sure what to do or say or wear or if he even wants to date anyone.
He can’t remember the last crush he even had. He’s been busy with classes and work and music. No one had caught his eye recently either. Sure he thinks people are cute, like the guy who serves him coffee on Tuesday mornings, or the girl who sits behind him in Music Theory, but that’s just aesthetic attraction. He’s fine with Jeonghan wanting the apartment alone, but he doesn’t get why everyone is now so determined to get him a date as well.
What happens if he doesn’t like them? Or the date goes terrible? He doesn’t want to ruin some poor person’s night.
“Hey Hansol.” Vernon turns to see you taking the seat next to his.
“Oh hey Y/N.” You two share a couple classes. Your majors overlap quite a few courses. You’re one of the only people who call him Hansol, just because that’s how he introduced himself freshman year before he started to go by his middle name.
“Are you okay?” You ask and Vernon gives you a strange look back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You just look a bit…troubled? Sorry, I don’t know if that’s rude to say.” Vernon likes you. You’re quick to the point but still considerate of others. You have good ideas but still make sure to consider Vernon’s less good ideas. Vernon wouldn’t call you his friend, but probably just the step below.
“Oh, no, I’m fine. My friends are just prying into my life.” Vernon lets out a huff. “They want me to find a date for Valentine’s.”
“Oh. Do you not want a date?”
“Not really? I’m just not big on going out. It’s also been a while since I’ve been on a date so I wouldn’t even know what to do. I mean Valentine’s Day is just another day when you’re single,” Vernon tells you.
“I don’t think so. Anyone can enjoy Valentine’s Day, because well, everyone deserves love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Platonic love and self life are just as important,” you explain. “I make my friends treats for Valentine’s Day and then usually do something for me in the evening.”
Vernon’s never really thought of it that way. Maybe that’s why he likes you. You just bring a pleasant energy everywhere you go.
“Anyways,” you start again. “I sat down to ask you if you were in class yesterday. I had to miss and was wondering what we went over.”
Now that Vernon thinks about it, yeah you weren’t in class. “Oh yeah. The professor basically just rambled on for the whole class.” Vernon spends the rest of his lunch catching you up in class and letting himself forget about the date.
“I think I’ve found you a date!” Vernon’s not sure how all of his friends have heard about this date thing but they have and now all twelve of them are in the search for him. Whether he wants them to or not.
This is the fourth option that they’ve brought up in the past two days. Vernon just stares at Mingyu, waiting for him to continue his nonsense.
“There’s this person in my marketing class. They’re real pretty, has fluffy brown hair and smooth looking skin.”
“Anything else?” Vernon is getting tired of these vague descriptions of people who he’s never met. You’d think his friends could at least talk about their personalities or something that would interest Vernon.
“Guys, the search is over!” Jeonghan says as he walks into the room. “Vernon I bagged you a date with the most wanted bachelorette on campus. Eight o’clock you’re going to go pick her up and take her out for dinner, and after that maybe she’ll invite you back to her place if you know what I mean. I get laid, you get laid, all is well.”
“The most wanted bachelorette?” Vernon doesn’t even want to touch on the fact that Jeonghan made the date without even consulting with Vernon first.
“Yep! You know Haerin? That’s your date.” Jeonghan looks proud of himself as he looks over at Vernon. Vernon doesn’t feel as excited.
He knows who Haerin is. Nothing against her, she’s just not particularly his type. She’s pretty but her personality isn’t as much and in the few interactions they’ve had, it seems they have nothing to talk about. Vernon can’t cancel the date now that it’s made though. Especially not on Valentine’s Day. Vernon doesn’t say anything to Jeonghan as he gets up to go to class.
When he walks in he notices that you’re here today, sitting where you normally do with two of your friends. Or at least Vernon thinks you guys are friends, you always sit next to each other in class and talk.
Vernon kind of wants to tell you about the date. He’s not sure why. To complain to someone who’s not in his friend group? Because you two were discussing it the other day? Maybe Vernon just wants a reason to talk to you. He wouldn’t mind becoming actual friends with you.
Class starts though and Vernon has to take his seat. He forgets he even wanted to speak with you until it’s almost the end of class and the professor is telling everyone to get into pairs of two. Vernon’s eyes scan the class. He’s not really friends with anyone here, but then he glances towards you. Your eyes meet his just at the right moment and you smile at him and he nods.
You grab your things before moving to where he’s sitting. “Thanks. Those two wanted to be partners so I was hoping I’d find someone else I can tolerate.”
“Well I’m glad I’m tolerable,” Vernon chuckles. “Speaking of tolerable, you know that uh, Valentine’s Day date I was talking about the other day?” You nod. “My roommate set me up with someone. Haerin.”
“Cho Haerin?” You look a bit surprised.
“Yeah. I’m honestly still not that excited about it, I was kind of expecting to spend the night in the library, but I still want to give her a good night. Have some fun at least,” Vernon says.
“That’s nice of you,” you hum. “Now how do you want to split up this project?” 
It turns out that you also share a couple classes with Jihoon as well so Vernon finds himself sitting in the studio with both of you as you and Jihoon go over classwork you were given. You’re discussing lyric analysis about some love songs your professor gave you.
“These songs are so cheesy,” Jihoon complains.
“I think it’s cute,” you reply back as you jot something down in your notebook. “What do you think Hansol?”
“About what?”
“Love songs.”
“Oh. I don’t know, it depends on the song. They’re not really the genre I listen to though,” Vernon replies.
“If things go well with Haerin, who knows,” Jihoon teases. “Maybe you’ll become an everyday love song fanatic.”
Vernon rolls his eyes. He’s honestly tired hearing about his Valentine’s Day plans with Haerin. Jeonghan made all of the preparations, all he actually has to do is show up. 
“Y/N what are your plans for Valentine’s Day?” Jihoon turns to you.
“Me? Oh I don’t have any plans. I’m probably just going to watch a movie in my apartment or something,” you say with a shrug. “I’ll go get discount candies the day after.”
“Maybe we’ll have to set you up with a date too,” Jihoon says.
You snort. “Yeah I think I’m good. Anyways what are your plans Jihoon? Sitting your studio all day?”
“Haha,” Jihoon deadpans. “For your information I have a date.”
That starts a conversation with you and Jihoon (mostly you teasing him) and Vernon sits and watches. Recently he’s been spending more time with you and he wonders why you two haven’t been closer before. You’re easy to be around and you flow well with all of his friends. Vernon’s not a very social person so he doesn’t make many friends outside of the ones he has, but he’s glad you two are getting closer. It’s also nice to be around people who aren’t his normal twelve friends who are more bothersome than anything.
It’s been a while since Vernon’s clicked so quickly with someone but you two just make sense. Vernon thinks about how you mentioned friendships are also an important factor in people’s lives and it makes him grateful to have you.
So all that friendship Vernon was thinking about the other day? Bullshit.
Vernon has a fat fucking crush on you and now it’s Valentine’s Day and he has a date with someone else.
It really hit him out of nowhere. You two were in your apartment, watching a movie, when you started to hum along with the soundtrack and Vernon realized he…really enjoyed it. Not just your humming but just you in general. He gets that it’s cheesy and ridiculous and that he’s everything but a romantic but he’s somehow fallen for you in the matter of two weeks and it’s driving him crazy.
“Hansol.” Vernon looks up to see you staring at him from across the table. “I asked you a question.” You two are working on your project together in one of the music buildings on campus.
“Sorry, what was it?”
“You’re distracted,” you say, instead of repeating your question. “Is it about your date tonight?”
“Uhm, yeah.” Technically he’s not lying. “Sorry, I know I should be working on the project.”
“No it’s okay, I get your mind is somewhere else. So what are the plans for your date tonight? You haven’t talked about it much.”
“I’m supposed to take her out for dinner and then afterward we’ll probably go see a late night movie or something.” Vernon doesn’t feel very comfortable sharing this information with you but he doesn’t want to be rude either.
“That sounds fun. Are you excited? Nervous?”
“Uhm…I’m not sure. I’m kind of just doing this for Jeonghan but I still want to let Haerin have a good night, you know.”
“You’re a good guy Hansol. What you’re doing is very sweet,” you smile at him.
Vernon doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you can be so sweet and perfect and supportive but not see how miserable he is on the inside. He has half the mind to just tell you now and cancel the date with Haerin. The only hold back is…you’re right. He’s too good of a guy to do that to her.
“We should get back to work,” Vernon says to you and you drop the subject, happy to get back on task. 
It’s not until a few hours later when you two have taken your third break of the day and are now talking about PopTart flavors when you look down at your phone.
“I think you have somewhere to be,” you tell him before turns your phone to show it’s 6:00.
Vernon sighs. He knows. There’s no chance he can stand up the Cho Haerin, but a part of him also doesn’t want to part with you. He wishes he could just spend the whole night with you.
“I’ll finish this up later, don’t worry about me,” you continue. Vernon’s not worried about you, rather himself.
Vernon slowly packs up himself with the hopes he can stall a bit longer, maybe even walk out with you. You on the other hand are quickly packing up your things. “Hey Y/N-”
“Have a good night Hansol,” you cut him off, not hearing him. You give Vernon’s arm a quick squeeze before leaving the room.
Vernon huffs and continues packing up his things so he can rush home and get ready, trying his best not to think about you as he does.
Haerin is…nice. She’s nice, but she’s also very much not his type. He’s not sure why she agreed to go out with him because ever since he picked her up she seems to be uninterested. She’s polite but not much engagement beyond that.
“So, what are you thinking about getting?” Vernon asks her as they look over the menu.
“I’m not sure,” she mutters. She shifts in her seat and looks down at her phone for maybe the fifth time since they’ve sat down.
Vernon sighs. “You know, you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be.”
“Could you really tell?” Haerin asks, guilt written all over her face.
“A little bit. It’s okay I also don’t exactly want to be here either. No offense.”
“No, none taken at all. Jeonghan and I are friends and he asked me to go out on this date when really all I wanted to do was go out with my friends and I felt bad saying no so-”
“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Vernon chuckles lightly. “You’re free to go, don’t worry about me at all.”
Haerin just smiles at him and they quickly tell the waiter they don’t need to order and leave. Vernon drops Haerin off at the club where his friends are. When she’s out of the car Vernon sighs. He can’t go back to his apartment, so what should he do?
He’s tempted to just call you up and ask if you are free, but he decides against it. Instead he drives to the campus and pulls up to the library. Thankfully their library has 24 hour study rooms that he can hide in until morning. 
Vernon parks his car and grabs his backpack from his back seat before heading in and settling down at a table. He pulls up the project you two were working on only to find you finished it earlier. Of course you did, you’re said you would.
Vernon’s wracking his brain on what he can do to pass time when he hears someone approaching. When he looks up his heart flutters a bit.
“Hi.” There you are, standing in front of him with a bag of food in one hand and your backpack slung over your shoulder. 
“Uhm, hi.”
You move so you can set the food and your bag down before taking the open seat across from Vernon. “I was hoping you’d be here. Not that I was hoping your date with Haerin would go bad but…well I kind of did.”
“You did?”
“I like you Hansol. I have for a while honestly so I was super happy when we started to get close but then you were going on your date with Haerin but you didn’t seem excited so when you said that you were originally planning on being in the library all night I was hoping you’d just call off the date and come and well I didn’t want you to be alone on Valentine’s Day so-”
“Y/N,” Vernon cuts off your rambling, “You brought this food for me?”
“Yeah. I was hoping we could just…have a date here. That is if you don’t mind me being your date tonight.”
“No, of course not, I don’t mind at all.” Vernon reaches across the table and grabs your hand in his. “I’m actually very happy it’s you,” he assures you, and he swears the smile you shoot him lights up the whole room. Maybe Jeonghan was right about finding a Valentine’s Day date.
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cha0ticspacebi · 1 year
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Like 91% of the population, you were now and would always be a beta. Except when your roommate moves out suddenly and fate connects you with Alpha Eddie Munson. After that, things start to change.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (Coming Soon)
Pairing: Alpha Eddie Munson x Female Omega Reader
Word Count: 10.4 k
Tags: Omegaverse and everything that goes with it (knotting, nesting, scenting, heats, ruts, breeding kink, biting, you get the idea), college student reader, mechanic Eddie, panty sniffing but not from who you probably think, reader is a little freak but it's just her new instincts, a few instances were reader expresses body insecurities, talks of infertility, minor Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham, and they were roommates! ⚠️ 21+ MDNI ⚠️
divider by firefly-graphics
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All through public school sex education classes, you were told that if you didn’t experience signs of presenting during a certain time period, you never would. Most people don’t. That was certainly the case for you. Puberty came and went without the slightest hint of a secondary gender.
Even as society around you exists in the midst of a massive fertility crisis, more than 91% of the population is classified as beta. Experts in the field predicted that with the rapidly declining birth rates that we might see a rise in alpha and omega pairings but so far that has not been the case. No viable differences were seen until last year when the number of known alphas increased by a meager .2%.
Still, many beta couples continue to seek assistance with conceiving a child, which is part of the reason why you decided that would be your field of study. Currently a third year med student at a university, whose promising research in the field is making headlines all over the world, you hoped one day to become a fertility consultant. Helping all those who wish to start a family achieve their dream. 
Ever since you could remember you’ve wanted to help people. In grade school you helped the new student find their way around. You helped the teacher with everyday classroom tasks. Everywhere you went, if you saw someone in need of a helping hand, you provided. Reaching a box of cereal from the top shelf at the grocery store and placing it with a smile in the elderly man’s basket. Helping a lost little girl in the park, you saw on your morning jog, find her mother. Offering to spend your first weekend off in a month helping your roommate move into her new place. Even though that meant you were now a one income dwelling, who wouldn’t be sustained for long on your meager university coffee house earnings.
After helping her, you arrived back to your suddenly empty two bedroom apartment. The immediate urgency for you to find a replacement roommate became very real, very fast. 
The next day you posted fliers all over campus, including the coffee shop, the library, even at the athletic center! You asked your friend Robin to stick some up on the bulletin board at her job as well.
“I actually might know someone,” her eyes flashed quickly from the flier to you, “Someone who could, in theory, move in before next weekend if that's cool with you.”
You practically leaped at her offer, “Absolutely! What’s her name?”
“His name is Eddie and he’s a—“
“Oh,” you’d never had a male roommate before. You considered this new development until glancing at the clock on the wall. You were going to be late for class! While voicing your thoughts about her proposal, you were already headed towards the door, “I guess as long as he’s not a total slob and pays his part of the rent on time that’s all that matters. Give him my number and tell him to call me, I gotta go!”
“Wait! There’s one more thing,” Robin tries to scream after you but you're already running out the front door of the Family Video. 
She watches your car pull away and shakes her head as she forwards your contact info, “Oh well, she’ll figure it out on her own pretty quickly.”
Tuesday was always your longest day. First the opening shift with the morning rush of tired college kids desperate for their caffeine fix. Working what felt like nonstop until noon, followed by classes until after 8:00 at night. By the time you trudged your tired ass back to your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep. Days like today were why you started leaving a pillow and blanket on the couch because sometimes taking those few extra steps to the bedroom were simply out of the question. 
Collapsing into the cushions, you felt your eyes get heavy and all your muscles finally relaxed. Sleep would come easy tonight.
Until the buzzing of your phone brought you back from the edge of sleepy bliss. You had a text from an unknown number.
Hey, this is Eddie. Robin’s friend. She said you needed a roommate! That’s such a coincidence because I’m a mate who needs a room. 
You couldn’t help the little bud of a smile that grew as you looked at the laughing emoji he added to the end of the text. Is it allowed to make first impressions from a single text? Oh well, your initial impression, he’s a goofball. Playful sort of boy next door, childhood friends in another life maybe. Meeting him in person couldn’t hurt right? Robin wouldn’t have suggested it to you if she didn’t think the two of you would get along.
Hi Eddie, I’m free tomorrow after 5 if you want to stop by and take a look. Try it before you buy it right?
You found yourself holding your phone waiting for his response. Eyes suddenly a little less heavy than before. He didn’t keep you waiting long.
It has four walls, a door, and comes with a sweetheart like you? Consider it sold!
Sweetheart? Sure Robin probably told him you're a nice person and all but that’s a little, buzz. Your thoughts were interrupted as he messaged again.
Sorry, I hope that didn't come across as pushy. I don’t want you to think I’m some stereotype. I try not to act like an entitled jerk all the time. It’s just, Robin showed me a picture of the two of you at the lake last summer and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think you were pretty.
The thought that he knew what you looked like and was still sending you cheeky messages made you happier than you’d like to admit. You remembered that trip and knew exactly what picture she must have shown him. It was one of the few where you actually felt good about yourself. With another yawn, you typed a response.
You could make it up to me by leveling the playing field? I should know who I’m expecting to meet tomorrow and possibly share a place with. 
Within just a few minutes an image appeared on the screen. He was straddling a vintage motorcycle with a helmet in his hands. Oh. 
You weren’t sure what caught your eye more, his soft looking curly hair, his dark chocolate eyes, or those dimples in his cheeks from the smile he was flashing the camera. He followed the picture up with another message.
Rob told me you were in class all day so I’ll leave you alone since you’re probably tired. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow around 5 roomie!
You should be annoyed. First he calls you sweetheart. Then he has the nerve to tell you to go to sleep, like you’re a child who was up past their bedtime. Then to top it all off, this man has the audacity to assume that just because you exchanged a few texts that he can move right in? Who does he think he is? You should be annoyed– but you’re not. Quite the opposite actually, you just got a little more excited for tomorrow. You fell asleep on the couch with that spout of a smile still growing slowly on your lips. 
Heading home after class the next day felt different. Instead of going home stressing about an exam or worrying about how you are going to pay next month's rent, you feel a touch of nervousness mingling with the excitement for a first meeting. You secretly hoped that Eddie was as cute in person as his picture.
Fate was smiling on you today because class had gotten out a little early giving you just enough time to straighten up the apartment before Eddie arrived. 
You hung a clean hand towel up in the bathroom, put fresh sheets on the bed that your old roommate left behind and smiled when you lit the pine scented candle that sat on the coffee table. Happy that you could get one more light out of it before it would need to be replaced. You fluffed the decorative throw pillows on the couch and finally closed the door to your own room before waiting to hear the knock on the door.
When that noise finally echoed through the quiet air you felt your body shiver with anticipation. You let out a reassuring breath, hoping it would calm your nerves and opened the door.
“Hey!” he smiled as brightly as the picture he’d sent you while he greeted you by name, “So? Am I as cute as my picture? Because you certainly are.”
Add big flirt to your first impressions. He was definitely laying on the charm but you were also falling for it hook line and sinker, “Hi Eddie, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in!”
You offered your arm in a welcoming gesture. He stepped inside and brushed past you ever so slightly. He must be wearing a strong cologne. Just that quick pass had your senses overwhelmed with the earthy, woodsy smell.
“So this is the common area,” you pointed out all the usual necessities, “Here’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen. Off to the side there is a little dining table but I’ll be honest I think I’ve used it once. I usually end up eating on the couch.” He commented on how it was a nice place and that it was so close to his work he could walk when the weather got nice again. 
“Where do you work?”
He closed the kitchen cabinet he’d been snooping in and turned to you, “I’m a mechanic over at Murray’s Auto Repair. Rob said you work at the coffee shop on campus, what’s your field of study, young scholar?” 
“Medical. I’m studying to be a fertility specialist,” you made small talk with him as you walked over to show him where his room is… would be! Where his room would be, if you think he’d be a good fit, “Here’s the other room. My old roommate said I could keep the bed and the dresser but if you already have those we can donate these since they’re in pretty good shape.”
He nodded, “Nah they look alright to me. I’m currently crashing on a friend's couch so this would be a huge upgrade.” He inspected the door handle, “Does this door not have a lock?”
“No, mine doesn’t lock either. I always figured it was because they are interior doors?” you shrugged and joined him as he inspected the boring metal doorknob, “They make portable locks you could always use.”
“Yeah, those things aren’t very strong though and when I’m in rut I can get pretty–” you cut him off.
“I’m sorry, when you're in what?”
The complete shock in your eyes and slack jaw had him pulling back a bit from you. A dejected huff through his nose, accompanied by a shake of the head told you he wasn’t too pleased with your question, “I thought Rob told you?”
“She didn’t tell me anything besides your name and the fact you were looking for a place,” you swallowed hard. You were in your third year of med school, you knew damn well what a rut was but the problem here was that only alphas experience them so if he… the wheels clicked in your head and you suddenly felt small standing beside him, “You’re an alpha?”
He crossed his arms, “Is that a problem? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable so you just say the word and I’m gone.”
His messages last night suddenly made a little more sense. He didn’t want to come across as a stereotypical hotheaded, asshole alpha. Truthfully though, he had been nothing but respectful so far. He had a steady job and already offered to pay your half of the rent for the first month! He even promised to do half the household chores. Honestly, he seemed like a great candidate for a roommate. Why should his status change any of that?
You shook your head, “No it’s alright.” You rocked on your heels with your hands held behind your back, trying to restore the conversation to its former comfort level, “So, when can you move in?”
His smile reappeared, but he didn’t answer your question. He instead turned and belly flopped onto the bed, you heard a deep sigh escape his mouth, “Shit, can I stay here tonight? I really don’t want to sleep on that couch again.” He turned on his hip and looked at you from the bed, “You know Rob’s friend Steve?” You shook your head, you’d only known Robin since the spring semester and hadn’t met any of her friends yet, “Well Harrington’s a great guy but he’s a family man now and can’t have a lonely alpha crashing on his couch anymore.”
You stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure if you should intrude on the space he just claimed, “Is Steve also an alpha?”
“Yeah. He and I had been living together for years before he met that sweet Chrissy of his,” he collapsed on his back and stared at the ceiling, “They had a kid, cute little boy, a few months ago and I lost my room.”
“Is Chrissy an omega?” you were mentally taking notes. Before Eddie came waltzing through your door, you’d never gotten the chance to talk to someone with a secondary gender at length before. There were some alphas you knew of in your classes throughout the years, mostly because all of them were loud and obnoxious about it. But none that you ever felt compelled to converse with. If they were cool with it, maybe they could answer some questions for the paper your gender sciences professor just assigned. Having some first hand alpha/omega pairbond experience would be great for your research. 
“Nah,” well nevermind, considering the low omega presentation rates you’d have been shocked if that was the case. You could always talk to Eddie about what it’s like to be an unmated alpha. He continued, “Never actually had the pleasure of meeting one. I hear they are crazy sweet though.”
You asked Eddie if he needed to go get anything from Steve’s place tonight, to which he just insisted he’d go tomorrow while you were in class. You had been so anxious for his arrival that you forgot to eat so you offered to cook dinner for him. 
“You really don’t have to,” he tried to stop you but then his stomach growled loud enough that it was probably heard from the hallway by a passing neighbor. 
You both looked at each other and you tried not to laugh at his embarrassed expression, but it wasn’t working, “So is ramen ok? If you’re going to live with a starving college student you’re going to have to eat like one. Not that you aren’t welcome to bring in your own food or whatever. I can clear a shelf off for you.” With that you got distracted reorganizing the sparse contents of the fridge, “There. We can put shared items in the middle, I’ll put the things I buy on the bottom and you can have the top shelf.”
You opened the door wider with a smile as he admired your work. You decided after dinner you’d do the same thing with the cabinets and clear a space just for him, “Ok now I’ve definitely worked up an appetite,” reaching up into the cupboard you presented him with two options, “Do you want spicy or regular?”
He gave in. Already, barely an hour in the apartment, and he knew he was no match for you, “Spicy. Thanks, sweetheart.”
You turned on whatever movie was already in the machine while you cooked and then just a few minutes later you were placing a simple bowl of noodles in front of him. He inhaled them, “That was delicious. I’m doing the dishes!” you were about to protest, “No, don’t even try to argue with me. You've already done enough and I’ve only lived here about 2 hours! I can’t have you doing everything for me. I need to pull my weight.”
“Fine, but sit down and finish the movie first.”
He sat on the opposite end of the couch from you. You chose to ignore the little tug that wished he sat closer to you. 
“Is that candle what I’m smelling?” he asked abruptly.
“Probably,” you leaned towards the coffee table and read him the label, “Evergreen Forest?”
His brows furrow, “No, this is sweeter.” He laughed, “When I first stepped in here I thought you were baking cookies, it was so sweet. I still haven’t been able to figure out where it's coming from.”
“Maybe one of the neighbors is baking something?” You weren’t really sure how to respond because you also had no idea what he could be smelling. You weren’t one for perfume and none of your soaps, shampoos, or body wash smelled sweet. At least he didn’t say the apartment smelled bad.
“Sorry, I’m being weird,” he brought you out of your daydream, “Alpha nose,” he poked himself in the tip of his nose, “I’m really sensitive to scent.”
“It’s ok! I find secondary genders fascinating. It’s part of the reason I chose to study fertility.”
He laughed and twisted himself to face you more from his spot on the couch, “Ah, I see. That’s why you let me move in so fast. Using my body for science hm?”
You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not so you deflated a little, “No of course not. I just think the phenomenon is interesting. Growing up I always hoped one day I would present, especially after I was told I can’t have kids.”
His laughing faded. The familiar sad, almost pitying look appeared that everyone gives you when you tell them. You’re not shy about it and you don’t care who knows. Despite having been focused entirely on building your career since you turned 18 and got that news, you do get asked by outsiders quite often when you’re going to settle down and have kids. 
Here comes the inevitable follow up question. He asks you if you want kids, “I’d love to start a family someday.” You shrug and anxiously rub your knees, “I’m painfully single though, so, one step at a time I guess.”
His laughter was quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world, “Me too! Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”
“I’m 26,” you smiled, “What about you?”
“27. I presented when I was 17 and after I finally managed to graduate high school I went to a trade school to become a mechanic.” He laughed again to himself, “Not that I needed any of it. Already learned all there was to learn from my uncle.”
The title screen of the movie playing in the background and the thought of your 6 AM shift were shoved aside as you spent hours talking with him on the couch. You learned where he grew up, that he played in a band for fun with his friends, and that he was a giant nerd. Everything from Dungeons and Dragons, to Lord of the Rings, to Star Wars. He loved all of it. 
You told him about your hobbies outside of school as well. He asked you questions about what kind of music you like, what your favorite color is, and listened to you talk about the things that interested you. It was kind of alarming how comfortable you already felt with him. He was incredibly easy to talk to. Finally, your body knew you’d regret staying up any later than you already had. You yawned.
“Alright pretty girl I’ve bothered you long enough. Go get some sleep,” he raised an arm and rubbed the back of his neck, “Are you sure it’s ok if I stay here tonight? I know it’s short notice and I wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to let me stay. I can move in officially this weekend if that works better.” 
You surrendered. Standing right up and following his order, “It’s fine Eddie. I offered you the room didn’t I? Besides,” you yawned again, “Since you’re covering rent next month you might as well get your money's worth. Although I don’t have any extra blankets,” another yawn became the final nail in your coffin, “All I had was that sheet. I might have some pillows in the linen closet,” you went to check but he stopped you with his words.
“You’re too kind, fair maiden. I don’t need much when I sleep anyways,” he gestured to himself, “Alpha’s usually run pretty hot.” You snorted and shook your head. As different as he is, you can definitely tell he’s still an alpha. He rose from the couch with a deep bow, “I look forward to our adventures together as roommates,” he flicked his hair back up and flashed you a great view of those dimples, “Good night sweetheart.”
Eddie moved in his stuff little by little, the whole process took nearly a week. When you returned home each day you would notice a few new additions here and there. He stuck his shampoo in the bathroom, there was a six pack of beer on his shelf in the refrigerator, and you could typically hear music playing from his room at night. Finally the last item, a second guitar amp, landed in his now fully lived in room. 
It had officially been a week since he moved the last of his stuff in and the two of you fell into a routine. Eddie’s shifts at the shop were usually the same time you were in class. If he got home before you and made some food, he left you a container on your shelf in the fridge. The last few times he’d started leaving a note on the container labeled “Roomie!” a little heart with bat wings drawn with markers that he definitely swiped from your backpack.  Tonight you were getting home first and decided to surprise him for being the world's best roommate. 
Your mind thought back to yesterday as you got started. You had just gotten out of the shower when he mentioned that sweet smell again. You figured he might have a sweet tooth so you decided to make cookies for him.
You tied your hair back and put on the apron you’d found on clearance after Valentine’s Day. It was pink with little conversation hearts scattered everywhere. A picture of a ladybug and the caption Love Bug written across the chest. After completing the scene with some of your favorite music playing softly in the background, you started to work.
After grabbing the flour and sugar, your cheeks felt warm. You had to check the clock to confirm, you’d only been working for a few minutes and you already felt flushed. As though you had been working in the summer heat for hours. You opened the small window that was situated beside your dining table and the cold winter air wafted into the warm kitchen.  It helped a bit. 
Setting the heat in your cheeks aside, you forgot about it after a while. You didn’t even realize how focused on your task you’d become. You felt relaxed. Every care of the outside world was gone. After mixing the last ingredient, the chocolate chips, into the dough and scooping them onto the baking sheet, you put them in the oven. 
“Hm,” you mused to yourself while looking through the cabinet. Wondering if you had the ingredients to make an icing to write #1 roomie on one of the cookies. 
Your mission was successful and while the cookies baked you whipped up a small amount. Giving you just enough time to do the dishes before pulling the cookies out to cool. You checked the time again. It was just after 5:00 and you knew Eddie would be back soon. Scooping the icing into a small ziplock baggie, you tried your best to write on the uneven surface. He walked in just after you finished the last letter.
“Hi Eddie!” You smiled brightly, proud of your work. Then you held out a small plate to him with the cookie, “I made this for you!”
He froze. His body went rigid there in the door frame. For the first time since you met, there was an uncomfortable silence. He just stared at you for a moment. Then, without a word, walked over, grabbed the plate from your hand and went into his room. Leaving you standing there in the kitchen dazed, confused, and if you were honest with yourself, a little sad.
You didn’t see him again that night. He stayed in his room. Replaying that event in your mind you cleaned up, left the rest of the cookies in a tupperware container on the counter, and headed to bed. 
You tried to sleep but the more you pondered, your sadness turned to annoyance. You needed to complain about him so you called Robin. 
“Hey! What’s up?” she sounded cheerful, “Isn’t it way past your bedtime?”
You offered a curt pity laugh, “Haha, very funny. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, I’m assuming based on your tone there’s trouble in roommate heaven?” She nailed it and your frustrations poured out like a waterfall.
“I made him cookies and he acted like I committed a crime. He gave me this look, didn’t say anything, snatched the cookie I offered him, and has been hiding in his room ever since. Is he allergic to chocolate? He might as well be with how upset he looked,” you mocked his non existence words, “Oh, I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, making me cookies, letting me move in with her on such short notice! Alpha Jerk.”
Once your rant was over she hummed, “Eddie’s always had a sweet tooth, that doesn’t make any sense. I need more details. What were you wearing?” 
“Just my normal clothes I wore to class today. I did have an apron on to keep my shirt clean, but why should any of that matter?”
She laughed, “Sounds to me like you might’ve broken him. Let me guess you went full domestic goddess?”
“Well I wouldn’t describe it like that but—“
She interrupted you, “Eddie’s a simple alpha babe. An alpha who, by the way, has never been with an omega. You cooking things just for him? Classic omega behavior, you should know that Ms. Smarty-Science-Pants. On top of that, looking like absolute wife material probably had his brain sizzling like a piece of bacon.”
You listened to her but it didn’t matter, “I’m not an omega though.” Your words were more sad than you’d like to think about.
You could hear her exasperated sigh, “His brain doesn’t know that. I’m telling you that’s all it was. He’s probably hiding because he’s got a huge hard on!”
“Robin!” You yelled and immediately listened for any signs that he might’ve heard your yell. You tiptoed to the door and listened. Nothing. You waited until back in the safety of your bed before talking again, “I’ll admit, you might be right about the first part. But,” you heart sank a little, “I doubt he’s in there with a hard on. There’s no way he feels that way about me.”
“Why not?” Robin combated, “You’re fucking adorable! And If he doesn’t, he’s clearly not using those heightened alpha senses of his because anyone would be lucky to have you.”
You bloomed again, “Thanks Robin. I feel a little better. I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”
The next morning you went about your normal routine. If you hadn’t decided to grab some rations from the kitchen to stuff in your backpack in perpetration for a day full of learning, you’d have missed it. There on the counter where you left the container, now a lot more empty than before, sat a little note. Thanks sweetheart. He left his signature bat heart. You smiled to yourself and flashed your eyes to his door. As if it could’ve been anyone else who wrote the note for you. 
A few days after the cookie incident, you and Eddie had resumed your normal interactions. Although, you hadn’t really stopped thinking about what Robin said. You were on the couch watching some random show on TV when he came in from work.
“Hey,” he sounded tired.
“Hey,” you checked the time, “Thought you got off at 5? I was surprised when I beat you home.”
He went, as he always does, to the bathroom and washed his hands. But this time he made a pit stop to set a small sparkly red bag on the coffee table in front of you, “I was supposed to, had to stay and finish fixing this stupid truck. Damn thing is just going to need to be fixed again in three months anyways.” He stood in the bathroom doorway and looked between you and the bag, “That’s for you.”
You felt the color appear on your face, “Me? Why?”
He replaced the towel he’d been wiping his hands on and walked back to the living room, “Dunno, I felt bad I guess about the other day and when I stopped at the store on my way home I saw that little guy and thought of you.” He spoke in a rushed manner like he was trying to get the words out without making a big deal out of it.
You looked inside the bag and found a small brown teddy bear with a red bow tied around its neck. It was so sweet. You held him in your hands and felt the softness of his fur beneath your fingers. 
“I just wanted to say sorry. Not trying to you know, I don’t know. You can just throw it away when I’m not looking or whatever,” Eddie was rambling and it was absolutely adorable.
“No it’s fine. I like him,” you loved him. He was the same color as Eddie’s eyes.
He went to his room after that and must have gone right to sleep because you saw the light from under the door turn off and didn’t hear any music tonight. You sat there on the couch with your new friend for a bit longer and realized something. He only came in with this. If he just happened to see this while already at the store, what did he go to the store for in the first place?
It was one of your rare days off and you were catching up on some laundry. You knew he might view what you were about to ask similarly to the cookies but hey doing laundry in an apartment building is a pain in the ass. If you're going down you might as well bring some of his clothes too. 
You texted him. Hey, I'm doing some laundry. You need anything washed?
He was at work but usually responded pretty quickly if they weren’t busy. They must not be busy. 
Yeah uh sure. That’s cool. Thanks. There’s a little pile in the corner by my guitar.
You were usually really good about respecting the roommate code. You knocked if you needed to get his attention but hadn’t actually been in the second bedroom since he moved in. Only catching quick glimpses when he would enter or exit. 
As soon as you entered, you thought to yourself, My period must be coming. The wall of musky, woodsy scent hit you like a ton of bricks. It was spicy and warm and distinctively Eddie. You stood in the door frame almost trying to catch your breath, Damn it’s probably going to be a rough one, I'm not usually this sensitive.
Once you regained your balance, you learned that Eddie had not one but two guitars. There was a red and black electric one hanging on the wall and a black acoustic one sitting on a stand beside his dresser. He didn’t specify in his message which one you should look by and both of them had piles of wadded up clothing near them. 
Trying not to inhale too deeply for fear of passing out, you pulled the collar of your shirt up over your nose and grabbed the first pile under the electric guitar. A few shirts and what looked to be pants that he might wear under his coveralls at work.
With still a little room in your basket, you made your way to the second pile. Opting to just pick all of it up at once and drop it in with the other clothes. You instantly knew this probably wasn’t the one he wanted you to wash. Sitting on top of your now shared laundry were several pairs of crusty looking socks and balled up boxers that had been hiding under a shirt. 
You knew you should put them back. Recreate the scene and walk away like you never touched them in the first place. Maybe he wouldn’t notice you had disturbed them. That's what you should do. You knew that. But something stirred inside you. You acted almost on instinct and before you could think too hard about it, you were picking up a pair of his green plaid boxer shorts and bringing them up to your nose.
When you inhaled the scent quite literally knocked you down. You fell backwards onto your ass. A euphoric feeling consumed you, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Suddenly your cheeks were flushed, your heartbeat quickened, and you knew you needed more. You smelled them again.
The room smelled like Eddie of course, it was his room. All his belongings were in here. He spent a good portion of his time here. But this, this was more somehow. More Eddie. Like someone had taken his scent and bottled it into a cologne. Then accidentally spilled an entire bottle onto this single pair of underwear. 
Coming down from your high you knew you had to leave them here, he’d notice if the pile was completely missing. Thus knowing you touched his underwear like a weird pervert. But he might not notice one pair mysteriously going missing. 
With the green pair still clutched in your dirty fingers, you replaced each soiled item one by one and covered them back up with the shirt. Then stood back on your feet, picked up the laundry basket, and continued your task as though the last few minutes didn’t happen. 
He came home from work that night to a small pile of neatly folded shirts and pants placed carefully on his bed. There was also a small container of take out with his name on it waiting for him in the fridge. You didn’t have the courage to face him that night after what you had done. So you hid away in your room. Leaving him completely unaware of the thievery that had taken place or the hidden treasure that now sat tucked away in your nightstand. 
It was officially one month that you’d been living with Eddie. If he noticed something missing from his wardrobe, he never mentioned it. 
Tonight you were having your first movie night with friends that you hoped to make a weekly occurrence. Robin was already here and tonight you got to meet their mutual friend Steve for the first time when he came over with his partner Chrissy. 
“I poured the popcorn into a few different bowls since it didn’t fit in just one,” Robin said with a smile as she held up two mismatched things of popcorn.
You feigned despair, “Oh no! What’re we gonna do? We can’t let people know that we live like this!” You turned to Eddie and held your cheeks, “What will the neighbors think?”
He laughed, “Your reputation as a good neighbor was probably lost the moment I moved in sweetheart.” His nickname for you became common tongue. You knew it didn’t hold any meaning, just Eddie being, well Eddie.
Robin didn’t approve of your shenanigans, she set the bowls down on the coffee table, “I never should have introduced you two. You're both menaces.” 
“Au contraire!” Eddie defended, “It’s actually a crime that you didn’t introduce us sooner!”
Your heart swelled hearing that, “Aww, you really do care Eddie. Here I was thinking you just used me for my extra room. Is the big bad alpha going soft? 
He smirked, “Nothing soft about me sweetheart.”
“Oh my god can you not make dick jokes for like 5 minutes please?” Robin threw up her hands, “Are we really about to bring another thick headed alpha in here? Seriously, how did you and Steve not kill each other?” 
Your eyes tracked between them as they bickered. Eddie sat in his usual spot on the couch and Robin was about two seconds away from walking back into the kitchen. 
Eddie laughed, “Relax! Steve and I have more sense than that. Besides, he’s got a girlfriend which calmed him down a little.”
“Good, this apartment can only handle one hot alpha,” You blurted out without thinking and instantly regretted it.
Robin, who was no secret to your massive crush on your friend and roommate, covered her laugh and retreated back to the kitchen. Shooting you a look that says you are so on your own with this one.
Eddie just looked at you, for a brief second there was some unreadable emotion there but it quickly turned to a smug grin. His arm swinging over the back of the couch, opening his legs as he crossed one over the other. “Aww you really think I’m hot sweetheart?”
You didn’t answer him. You’d be forever grateful to whoever just knocked on the door. 
On the other side stood a man with fluffy, perfectly placed brown hair and a big smile. Even without the knowledge this man was an alpha, you’d know right away. From the protective arm around this girlfriend’s shoulders and the oozing confidence, this must be none other than Steve Harrington.
Which meant the cute redhead beside him must be Chrissy. She greeted you with a surprise, though not unwelcome, hug, “It’s so great to finally meet you. Eddie’s told us so much about you.”
“Really?” You looked back to Eddie who was uncharacteristically quiet. You decided to just file that in the back of your mind for now, “Come on in! We made popcorn and pizza should be here soon.” Robin had returned and gave Steve a hug. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease her once more, “I hope you don’t mind the mismatched bowls.”
The movie provided an anchor as you got better acquainted with these new friends. You learned that they met through work. Steve is a personal trainer and Chrissy teaches yoga at the community center. Steve was telling you the story of how his jaw literally dropped when Chrissy walked into his gym to inquire about offering classes there. 
Your body language had naturally leaned in while listening to his story. You sat up a little straighter. Your arms braced against your knees as you gave Steve your full attention. Or at least tried to. The frequent twitches you caught from the corner of your eye kept distracting you. Finally you looked over and saw Eddie clenching his fists against his thighs.
You waited until Steve had finished to say something, “Eddie? Are you ok?”  
His eyes were blown wide as he looked in your direction, “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” The white knuckles now braced against his chin and the point of his elbow digging into his leg said otherwise.
Steve spoke up before you could, “You sure man? You look like you’re ready to rip somebody’s head off.”
“I said I'm fine!” He snapped. 
In an instant, the once friendly atmosphere turned sour and tense. No one really knew what to do. Everyone looked concerned. Searching for the cause of what had upset him. You however were feeling something very different. All you could think about was touching him. No, not touching, your brain supplied. Scenting. 
You wanted nothing more right now than to nuzzle into his hair and neck. Somehow reassuring him that everything was ok.
Now your eyes were blown wide. Your brain all at once processed this intrusive thought. You knew it was nonsense. It must have come from your lessons during class today. Yeah that’s it. You were still just thinking about today's lecture during gender sciences because you shouldn’t be scenting. That’s something only done by alphas or—
“Who wants dessert?” You jumped up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. You heard footsteps behind you. Someone was following you. You didn’t need to turn and look thought. The sound of the footsteps, his smell, everything about him swirling around inside your very confused mind. 
You opened the freezer and didn’t realize how much you needed the relief of a cool breeze. Standing there with the door open for a moment after grabbing the tub of ice cream felt incredible.  
“Hey,” Eddie’s voice melted your insides. It sounded so soft and comforting, “Are you alright?”
You didn’t want to look at him for fear that just by making eye contact he would somehow know what you had wanted to do. Instead, you chuckled awkwardly and played it off, “Guess I’m just more tired than I thought.”
“No,” Eddie saw right through you, “I’ve seen you tired after a long day. That’s not what this is. Come here.”
Your mind and body were incapable of disobeying him. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, you turned on his command. Closing the freezer door and keeping your eyes locked with his feet. 
He touched your forehead. Eddie had never touched you before. All the nights you spent wondering what the tips of his fingers felt like finally answered. They were calloused from playing guitar, the palm of his hand rough, most likely from his job. But nothing had ever felt more natural. It was fleeting thought because he pulled back already. 
“Jesus Christ you’re burning up,” He went to the bathroom and returned the thermometer, “Holy shit 102?” He called for Robin. 
She came running and you vaguely heard him telling her to go get medicine from the bathroom. He lifted your chin, “You are taking medicine and going right to bed. Do you understand me? No work or class tomorrow for you either.”
“But–”
“I think you should listen to him,” Robin said as she returned followed by Chrissy and Steve to check on you. 
Standing became a labor. You braced yourself against the counter but Eddie caught you and lifted you into his arms. Robin opened the door for him as he carried you to your bed. Everything was starting to blur together. Somehow they made you take the medicine. You’re pretty sure Robin helped you change into some pajamas before you passed out on top of the comforter. That night you had your first dream of Eddie.
The next morning… afternoon? You weren’t sure until you blinked your eyes open. You felt awful. Your skin felt like it was on fire. If you were still running a fever that was not a sign. As soon as you summoned enough strength you ripped all your clothes off only to be horrified by what you felt on the bed beneath you. Your underwear, shorts and the top of the comforter were soaked. You brought your wet hand up to your face to inspect the source.
“Is that?” you spoke to the emptiness, “Slick?”
It should have been impossible. Everything you knew about biology was being thrown out the window and discarded to the wayside. Nothing made sense anymore. You had been and would always be a beta. And yet– your new and now ever present instincts told you otherwise. You were in heat. 
Grasping at the shred of rationality that you regained, you tried to remember everything you’ve ever learned about heats. You knew a few things for certain. One, it was only a matter of time because you were lost to your desires and unable to think about anything except mating. Two, you needed food so that you didn’t have to leave your room again until it subsided. Last? Only omegas experience heats which means that only an alpha would truly make you feel better. 
Tossing your wet clothing to the ground you wobbled naked like a newborn fawn towards your bedroom door. Dripping slick against your bare inner thighs as you tried to walk. You made it to the kitchen where, with fervent desperation, you dug through the cabinets for anything you could bring back with you. Then you went to Eddie’s room and without a second of hesitation opened the door. That was a horrible idea.
Where only the night before was just the scent of Eddie, now your brain was able to recognize it for what it was. Alpha.
Your knees buckled. It’s a miracle you didn’t fall over. Another rush of slick dripped from your aching hole. You didn’t have the luxury of considering whether he’d be upset that you were borrowing his clothes. You grabbed his leather jacket that he always wore outside of work from the bed and the few shirts that littered the floor. You could feel the fever returning. You needed to get back to your room. 
Eddie didn’t want to leave you that morning. He peeked inside your bedroom before heading to work and you were sound asleep.
Robin had taken care of your obligations for you. She called your work and emailed your professors saying you’d be out for a few days with a fever.
Eddie knew he should just go back home because he wasn’t much use here today anyways. He’d already made a ton of mistakes thanks to his distracted brain.
“Munson!” Murray called to him from the office, “Come here boy!”
“Shit,” he tossed the rag in his hand and readied himself for an ass chewing.
Murray looked up from the desk, “What’s wrong with you today? You handed me an order form for the wrong part. You charged someone triple for a simple oil change and now I just watched you checking the engine on a car that was brought in for headlight repair.”
“Sorry sir, my roommate’s pretty sick right now and I guess I’m just a little worried about her,” a little worried was an understatement. Eddie was panicking that you, the absolute divine love and light of his life, were going to die in his absence.
He sighed, “Just go. Before I change my mind.”
Eddie tore at the buttons on his coveralls and nearly tripped trying to walk and take them off at the same time, “Thanks Murray!”
“You owe me!” was the last thing Eddie heard before he ran out.
He kicked the stand up on his motorcycle and got quite a few stares from people on the street and he hauled ass back to the apartment. 
Normally he’d take the elevator up to your fourth floor apartment but in his mind his feet were faster and they’d carry him to you sooner. He was so focused on checking that you were still ok that he didn’t even feel winded after running up four flights of stairs. 
He fumbled with his keys as he walked down the hallway. Then it hit him. He dropped the keys. They clattered loudly to his feet. He was still several doors down from yours and he could already smell it. He scrambled to pick them up and ran down the hallway. 
His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he turned the key. That same sweetness that had greeted him everyday since the first time he opened that door to your smiling face, suffocated him. Though now it was a little different. It was sweeter. More you. Something he’d only ever dreamed of. An omega.
It got stronger with every step he took towards your room. He swallowed and failed to will away the hardness growing in his pants. All his hopes and dreams were answered when he pushed his way into your room. There on the bed in a very haphazardly constructed nest, naked, clinging to his jacket, surrounded by his clothes, and your brown stuffed bear, was you.
He inhaled deeply and could practically feel his pupils dilate with lust. You smelled so fucking good. He took another step and spoke quietly trying not to startle you, “Hey sweetheart.” 
It hurt so bad. The ache between your thighs only worsened as you curled into the small nest you’d surrounded yourself with. The underwear you’d stolen from Eddie lost its scent long ago but you still pulled it out and threw it in the pile. The few items you were able to grab from his room were a mere wooden board in the dam against the rushing river that threatened to drown you at any moment.
You didn’t hear the front door open.
Your senses became more clouded with each passing minute. You clung for dear life to Eddie’s leather jacket but it betrayed you as it started to cling back now that it was damp with your sweat.
The click of your bedroom door knob alerted you and brought you back. Maybe it wasn’t the door. Maybe it was the smell or the sound of his voice as he spoke to you. You lifted your head and couldn’t stop the tears when you saw Eddie standing there at the foot of your bed.
“A-alpha? It hurts,” 
Something awoke within Eddie. The deepest part of himself he’d never been able to fully satisfy. All those ruts spent uselessly humping into his hand or a pillow. “Again,” He growled, “Say it again little one!”
Your eyes pleaded with him as you whined, “A-alpha?” You pressed the jacked to your chest. How was he here? He was supposed to be working. Your fever must have taken over you and you were starting to hallucinate, “F-fuck, alpha, need you. Are you really here?”
The bed shifted, “I know, I know. I’m here now, sweet omega. I’m here.” He laid behind you and wrapped his long arms around you. “‘m so sorry I left sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere now.”
His presence eased the ache a bit. He rubbed your neck with his hand and whispered in your ear, “You smell so good, could smell you from the hallway.”
He felt you shudder with panic, “R-really?”
“Shh! No, don't worry. I locked the door and only other alphas or omegas would be able to smell it,” he leaned in closer, “Can I kiss you? It might help you feel better.”
You nodded but didn’t feel anything on your lips. He kissed your neck. Sparks of pure pleasure shot through your body. You whimpered helpless against the feeling, “Fuck more Eddie! More! Kiss me more, please!”
He couldn’t deny that his heart had wanted to hear those words since he first laid eyes on you but he knew it was just the heat talking. He also knew if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop, “I want to more than you know princess but, I don’t want you to hate me when you're more lucid.”
His kiss had breathed new life into you and gave you the energy to turn to face him, “I’d never hate you Eddie.” You reached into the piled up fabric that you had built up around you and pulled out the green plaid boxers, “D’you lose something?” you could feel your speech slurring.
“D-did you take my underwear?” his fingers curled and tickled against you lightly drawing out little giggles.
You grinned up at him with glassy eyes, “Sure did. Sniffed ‘em too.”
His palm came to rest on your hip and he ran his fingers up the curve of your waist. Then back down again. Savoring every dip, ridge, and shape your body created as it lay before him, “Did they help you feel better?”
“Nuh uh,” he was misunderstanding, “I took these a while ago. So see? Wouldn’t hate you. Want you.”
He kissed you again, on the lips this time, “I want you too. Shit, you taste so good. I wonder how you taste other places.”
He pressed his elbow up, giving him leverage to sit up and tear his shirt off. Next he was up hovering over you on his knees. You watched him, taking in every single one of his movements. He unzipped his pants and slid them down his hips. His thick length was barely contained by the fabric of his boxers. He was less than graceful as he shook them off. 
He straddled your legs and lowered himself towards your neck again, so close to your skin that his chest grazed your exposed nipples as he turned you to rest on your back beneath him. His mouth was in your ear whispering, “I can see it in your eyes sweetheart, the heat is getting worse. Can you tell me what you need before that smart ass brain of yours is just mush, begging for my knot?”
“F-fuck me Eddie,” you looked up at him and knew even in your current state that your words had affected him. “P-please.”
“That’s all I needed to hear sweetheart,” he kissed you again. First on the lips. Devouring your moans, wet noises growing as you felt yourself drooling into him because of how good he tasted. Your slick lips gliding against his. He moved lower onto your neck and kissed the crook just above your shoulder, “This might be a little sensitive here but I promise it’ll feel good.” He sucked on your skin and in that instant you were writhing.
“Ah! A-alpha,” somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind you knew that he was sucking on the spot that both of your latent instincts told you was where he should bite down and bond himself to you. Where if he gave into his desires and bit down just a little harder you’d forever be his and only his. Bearing his mating mark for the world to see. As he continued sucking with just his lips and licking with his tongue that was suddenly all you ever wanted, “Mate me alpha! All yours, please!” 
He puffed out his chest. His shoulders flexed. The muscles in his back tightened as he growled again into your neck. Straining to fight off every instinct that told him to give you what you wanted. His hand gripped the wooden frame of your bed so tightly you heard the wood begin to splinter and crack. “Maybe after your heat sweetheart. Such a good girl, my sweet little omega, all these big new feelings. Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Throwing your head back you let the dam break, “N-need your knot alpha, Hurts. Make it stop.”
“You’re not quite ready for my knot yet baby. Gotta make sure I don’t hurt you.”
But you were an omega? That’s literally what your body was made for, why couldn’t you take him? First he wouldn’t mate you and now he won’t knot you? Were you a bad omega? He sensed your distress in the subtle change in your scent. He buried his face into your neck again, surrounding you with himself. 
“You’re not bad! No no,” you didn’t even realize you’d said that out loud. He continued to soothe you, “It's just…I’ve never knotted anyone before and I don’t want to hurt you.”
You brought your hands up to his chest and touched him everywhere your fingers could reach, “Won’t hurt me. I know. Too gentle.” 
You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you. The weight of his body pressing into nearly every surface of your skin was intoxicating. Grounding you with his scent and his very presence. You’d pulled him into the perfect position to nuzzle into his neck and hair, kissing the same spot that he has just assaulted on you with his tongue. A warm feeling bubbled in your gut. This was different from the warmth of the heat. Then a sound hit both of your ears.
A sound that gave both of you delighted pause. The little noise that escaped your throat was somewhere between a whimper and a moan but something so uniquely omega. Eddie had never heard a more beautiful sound. You were purring. 
He let you keep going but whispered into your ear, “You’re fucking perfect you know that?” you purred louder, “I’m going to make you come with my fingers and then I’ll give you my knot, ok?”
“Yes alpha! Thank you,” you whined as he pulled away but his hands never stopped touching you. He made his way down to the drenched area between your thighs.
“You look so beautiful for me sweetheart, you’re fucking soaked,” he moaned as his fingers began toying with your wetness and dipping in between the folds of your pussy. You encouraged him with all the moans and whines he could ever hope to hear. As soon as he deemed you thoroughly worked up, he finally slipped a finger in, quickly followed by another. They worked together pumping in and out fluidly, curling inside you, pressing all the right buttons. You wanted to thank him but all that would come out was broken bits and pieces of alpha and his name. 
His hair brushed lightly against your inner thighs, sending shivers through your core as he lowered his head down. He spoke with a low hum right into your entrance, “You’re close. I can feel it. Let go for me sweet omega. I’ll take good care of you.”
One more curl of his fingers hitting that delicious soft spongy spot inside you had you screaming and convulsing as slick rushed out into his hand and surely getting some on his face. His fingers pulled out and were replaced with something wet and soft. You could feel his nose nudging at your aching clit as he licked up all your wetness with his tongue. It slid up from the hole and flicked your clit over and over again causing the muscles in your calf to twitch.
“K-knot alpha! Knot please, ‘m ready. So empty, hurts!”
He sucked on your clit before pulling away and lifted to release his throbbing cock from his boxers. You looked up at it, marveling at how impressive his length looked. The tip swollen and aching for you just as you ached for him. The shaft veins pulsed as he pumped himself with his wet hand, covering it in your scent and juices. The base just barely began to flare out as his knot already started to swell. He lined up the tip with your begging cunt and teased you as much as his self control would allow before slowly and carefully pressing all the way inside.
You cried out for him, “So good! More, more, more! Move alpha please!”
He couldn’t hold back anymore. Feeling his cock sheathed inside his omega’s pussy was too much. He began fucking into you with reckless abandon, each thrust hitting deep within your body, catching ever so slightly as his knot continued to swell. He grunted loudly, “Fuck! “M’gonna fill you up so good little omega. Gonna breed this beautiful pussy,” his instincts were now fully in control. His mind became almost as clouded as yours with nothing but want and desire to fulfill the purpose of your heat, “You’ll look so good knocked up sweetheart. Tits all big and heavy. My omega, mine!” 
You echoed him, “Yours alpha! All yours! Breed me, wanna carry your baby! Please, please please,” you cries became so desperate and emotional as you begged and pleaded for him to give you something you’d wanted as long as you could remember. Tears fell from your tired eyes, “Make me a mommy alpha!”
“Yeah?” he looked down at you. Beads of sweat from his constant thrusting formed on his forehead. His bangs curled and swooshed out in every direction, “Beg for my knot again omega, tell me how much you want it!”
Your body was jostling up and down from his thick cock fucking into you harder and harder. Your senses became overwhelmed with the feeling of your alpha’s cock, his scent, his words, his love all around you. You could feel how much bigger his knot had gotten, your voice was wrecked, “Knot alpha, need it, knot me!”
Eddie came with a loud growl. You’d never felt so full. Your walls pulsated around him as you came again. He slammed his knot deep inside you, locking you together with him, forming a connection that as you floated down from your orgasm fully took shape in your mind.
“Eddie?” you looked into his warm brown eyes, “Th-thank–”
“Shh, we can talk later baby. Rest while you can,” he held a finger to your lips, “Once my knot goes down I’ll get you some water and something to eat. You’ll need it again soon so we both need to rest.”
Being locked together with him felt so right but it limited your movement. Twisting your torso you looked around the nest for the box of granola bars you’d grabbed earlier, “I,” words were still hard and your breath was labored, “box here somewhere.”
He looked around and spotted the corner of the box on the floor. He pictured what you must have done when you realized what was happening to you, knowing what you’d need, “You did such a good job. Now it’s my turn, we’ve got a long few days ahead of us. My first rut lasted three days.”
You chuckled, eyes closed, a blissful fucked out smile on your lips, “W-we might need more food.”
“I’m not leaving you again, I’ll have Rob drop some stuff off.”
You didn’t talk anymore after that. In fact you fell asleep with his knot still inside you. He kissed your forehead before pulling out when it finally went down, “Sleep my little omega.” He left the nest just long enough to text Robin and his boss, updating them and then curled up behind you, rubbing his face into your neck again. Picturing how good your throat would look with his mating mark on it before falling asleep beside you.
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imababblekat · 1 year
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Not A Webs Chance
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Prompt: The boys are at it again in guessing who the mysterious, friendly neighborhood Spider Hero of New York could be. With a joking comment, the minds of each ninja begin to wonder if it is perhaps you under the mask!”
Notes:
(s/p) = spider persona name)
~xXx~ “All I’m saying is it’s kind of nice to have some of the heat off our shells for once.”, Leo defended, raising his arms from the back of the couch. The leader terrapin and his brothers sat in April’s and yours shared living room, the small old square tv in the center casting the news of events from a few hours prior. The headline “Super Market Robbery Put To A Quick Halt” streamed across the bottom of a recorded video of New Yorkers friendly (s/p) swinging off screen. “I miss kicking bad guy butt, but you do have a point bro.”, Mikey agreed, finishing off another pizza slice. “When’s the last time we got to finish a whole pizza in one sitting?!” “You mean all of us or just you? Cuz I can tell ya the answer to that real quick.”, Raph jested, his younger brother ignoring him in favor of grabbing another slice. Shaking off a slice offered by Donnie, Leo cheekily smirked at Raph. “You’re still just mad at the fact they totally whipped your behind when we first met.” Raph, grumbling, jabbed a digit towards the his brother. “Yeah, well I didn’t exactly see ya win the fight either. In fact, if I remember correctly they had ya danglin’ by Mikey’s nun-chucks.” With a dreamy sigh, ignoring the heat rising between both brothers, Mikey spoke through a mouth full of cheese. “That was so hot how they did it, too~.” Finishing his own slice and returning to a gadget in hand, Donnie let out a light chuckle. “You say that but you don’t even know them.” “Don’t you know actions speak louder than words?!”, Mikey swooned across Leo’s lap, the later shoving him of with an eye roll. “Besides, I already know who they are anyways.” At this, all turtles stopped what they were doing, sharply turning to the youngest with curiosity brimming in their eyes. Was this it? Were the boys finally going to find out who the mystery person behind the mask was after all this time of fighting crime side by side? “You saw their face?!”, all boys shouted in unison, leaning in towards the orange bandanna turtle. With a big smile, and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, Mikey replied. “Nope!” All brothers deadpanned, but before any could retort back, Mikey continued. “Don’t need to. I finally figured out who they are.” Leo chuckled incredulously, sitting back once more. “We already went over this Mikey. It’s not April.” “Or Master Shredder.”, came Donnie’s chime in. “Or that one guy runnin around’n a rat costume.”, added Raph. Mikey shook his head with a mildly irritated groan at his brothers mentions of his past theories to (s/p)’s true identity. “Just hear me out! I know I’ve got it this time!” Each ninja turtle listened doubtfully but motioned for Mikey to go on. “It’s clearly the cute delivery person. Why else would they leave me an extra slice of triple cheese, deluxe pepperoni?”, he smiled wide, making a mind blowing motion with his hands. “Uhm, because they didn’t want to waste any food at the end of the night? You’d be surprised how much humans throw out at closing.”, Donnie expressed knowledgeably. Falling back defeatedly into the sofa with crossed arms, Mikey huffed. “Well since you’re such a genius, who do you think it is, Don?” Donnie thought for a moment, adjusting his glasses. “The odds of us guessing who it is, or if we even know the person in such a heavily populated city is statistically extremely low.” Mikey rolled his head back with a loud groan and Leo laughed. “Come on, Don. You gotta guess someone. Anyone.” Donnie’s face scrunched up as he truly tried, Leo and Mikey throwing out more theories on who they thought the mystery person could be. Slightly frustrated, the leaner brother nodded his head towards Raphael. “Why don’t you guys ask Raph? He always seems to have something smart to say.” Playing with the toothpick between his teeth, Raph chuckled before throwing a thumb back to the kitchen. “Obviously, it’s that dork.” All eyes turned towards the human in the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon rolls in the oven wafting around them. Even though Raphael had been 100% joking around, the cogs in each of the four brothers brains began to turn as they gazed at none other than you. You, who stood in the kitchen with disheveled hair and wrinkly pajamas after waking from what was supposed to be a thirty minute nap turned six, were the only person neither of the ninja brothers had ever thought to consider. However, now watching as you carefully studied an oven mitt, they started to notice things they hadn’t before. You were about the right height and size as (s/p). Thinking back to certain moments, the brothers also realized how some of the things you both would say sounded similar. Heck, in some sense, even your voices sounded somewhat the same. It also seemed to be quite the coincidence that whenever their spidery friend swung off after defeating some baddies, you would show up moments later. Could it be? Could you truly be the person that occupied the ninja turtles minds with your spectacular crime fighting powers and personality?! Just as lightbulbs in the brothers minds were about to go off, they had all witnessed you toss the oven mitt in the air and try to, very unsuccessfully, karate jab your hand into said mitt, only for it to fall splat to the tiled floor. “Eeeyeeeeah, scratch that. I like Mikey’s rat costume guy betta.”, Raph spoke turning back around with his brothers. “Oh come on! You’re never gonna let that go, huh?!”, Mikey exasperated as another round of argumentative theories sprung up between the four. Too lost in each others reasonings for why or why not (s/p) could be this or that person, the four brothers missed you accidentally webbing your oven mitt to the ceiling in a re-attempt at earliers action, a panicked look quickly finding place on your face as you rushed to get it free.
~xXx~
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queer-reader-07 · 7 months
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coffee theory and the disparaging of aziraphale’s character
ok y’all buckle up, we’re finally talking about why coffee theory not only disparages aziraphale’s character but would cheapen the story.
this is a meta i’ve been trying to write for ages now because i know i have Thoughts but trying to communicate them in a coherent and not passive aggressive way is… difficult to say the least.
i have a few main points i’m gonna touch on in this post:
1) why coffee theory disparages aziraphale’s character and removes him of his agency
2) why it would cheapen the story
3) how it underestimates neil’s talent as a writer
4) why the implications of it irk me
ok. let’s get into this.
firstly, a run down of coffee theory for anyone who’s managed to miss it. coffee theory basically states that the metatron drugged/manipulated the coffee he gave aziraphale such that the coffee was what led to aziraphale making the decision to go to heaven. (i.e. he wasn’t himself, he was under the influence and that’s why he did what he did)
why coffee theory disparages aziraphale’s character and removes him of his agency
look. i understand that aziraphale’s decision to go to heaven and take up the position of supreme archangel hurt. i understand that a lot of y’all were angry at him, and many of y’all still are angry with his decision. that is so totally valid and i’m not saying you’re wrong for being upset.
but what i do have to say is this: you can be angry at him while simultaneously acknowledging that his decision makes sense in the context of his character. those two truths can coexist without contradiction.
i think that a lot of people (myself included) have this unconscious tendency to view characters through our own warped perceptions of them rather than their actual character. like we all have our own headcanons about the characters and media we enjoy, but sometimes they get away from us and we start projecting complete headcanon onto real actual canon plot.
so let’s talk canon for a minute. the show has shown us time and time again that aziraphale fundamentally believes Heaven is good. he knows the angels are mean or bad sometimes but he thinks that capital H Heaven is good. that God’s plan is good. he believes that being an angel makes you good.
“i know the angel you were.” “you’re a demon you lied.” “you’re the bad guys.” “we’re hereditary enemies” “there is no our side”. aziraphale believes that being an angel and being on the side of Heaven is what makes you good. yes he knows crowley is good but aziraphale thinks it’s because of his past status as an angel. that it’s in spite of his demonic nature.
aziraphale believes that with the help of someone good (properly good, not pretend-y good) Heaven can be perfect and good and share that goodness with humanity. and he’s been given the opportunity to do that, alongside crowley no less!
aziraphale doesn’t fully understand how corrupt Heaven truly is. and nobody can get that across to him. not even crowley. miscommunication is an issue between them, yes. but it’s not the only issue. aziraphale fundamentally believes in Heaven, and crowley does not.
so of course aziraphale chose going to Heaven and being in charge because now he can truly enact change. his decision makes so. much. sense.
and coffee theory? coffee theory would strip aziraphale of all his depth and complexity as a character. it would say “yeah he has this long history of being hurt by this institution but his faith in it is so strong that he was willing to leave the one being he loved most in the universe behind if it meant fixing the institution and creating a safe future for him and his lover. but actually he just got drugged lol.” like. how utterly disappointing would that be? it strips him of his agency, it strips him of his complexity, it makes him boring. and boring is one of the worst things a character can be.
aziraphale is allowed to be a complex character. he’s allowed to make decisions you don’t like. in fact i think he should. that’s what happens in stories. especially in good ones. characters make decisions you don’t like all the time but what matters is if the decision makes sense. and aziraphale’s decision makes all the sense. no matter how upset it made you, it checks out.
why it would cheapen the story
look me in the eyes when i say this: most of y’all would probably hate coffee theory in practice because it is such a cop out plot twist.
coffee theory fundamentally disallows complexity to aziraphale’s decision to leave earth. it makes it a “oh no he was drugged!” situation instead of a “he has a lot of shit to work through and he’s hurting and the being he loves is hurting and the world is gonna end and he needs to work on himself before he can save the world properly.” situation.
coffee theory is bred out of the knee jerk instinct to say aziraphale was completely wrong and crowley was right and “i need to explain away aziraphale’s decision because he would never hurt crowley!!!”
y’all. i love aziraphale, do not get me wrong. but have we been watching the same show? aziraphale has hurt crowley, multiple times. he’s said many hurtful things. and it all comes back to the same reason: he believes Heaven and angels are good, and demons and Hell are bad.
it’s all connected. and i want to see the show acknowledge all of that. push it to the surface and let them confront it all. not brush away the hurt with some cheap “he was drugged!” plot twist. it’s boring and disappointing.
how it underestimates neil’s talent as a writer
neil is a good writer. i’m not gonna entertain arguments about this, if you like good omens you like neil’s writing. (and i highly suggest you read his other novels). and if there’s one thing i’ve found in my time reading neil’s books it’s that everything is intentional.
how much time does this fandom spend dissecting every single frame of the show because we know nothing is accidental? that is not a good omens specific thing, it’s in all of neil’s works (at least the ones i’ve read). neil is incredibly intentional in what he does, and in my experience he doesn’t rely on cheap plot twists.
he can plot twist the ever living daylights out of you but it will never be a cheap cop out like “he was drugged!” and acting like coffee theory is actually plausible is frankly an underestimation of what neil is capable of as a writer.
why the implications of it irk me
can we all just agree that the fandom likes crowley more? and that whenever aziraphale does anything slightly complex it’s often times either met with “oh nonono here’s this reason that doesn’t allow him any complexity” or “i hate him!!!! (also doesn’t allow complexity)”
you can adore crowley. i adore him too, i relate to him very deeply. but i love aziraphale too and i’m kind of tired of how frequent the aziraphale slander is.
and coffee theory, if i’m being honest, feels very much like y’all just can’t handle aziraphle being anything more than “silly little gay angel running the bookshop”. it feels like people just can’t handle the fact that he has his own motivations and feelings and that he truly thinks he’s doing the right thing.
and it’s to the point that you need to convince yourself he was DRUGGED so that you can accept his decisions?? y’all. did we watch the same show?
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tylered-up-in-blue · 10 months
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Response to “The Magic Trick You Didn’t See” / The Coffee Theory
I, like many people in the Good Omens fandom, have already read the big essay “The Magic Trick You Didn’t see” –which blows up the coffee theory that’s been circulating on my twitter page to greater heights and big claims. I have some thoughts.
First of all: I think that the original essay has a few details wrong, essentially because it falls into a kind of utilitarian perspective with the whole magic show metaphor. The thing is –sometimes details which are left hanging, or themes which are shown to be important, don’t always tie up somewhere. Sometimes they’re there because they’re interesting, or poking at intrigue –trying to get you to notice and note down for later, rather than evidence of one ultimate solution that’ll be revealed as a holistic great plot. Also “I didn’t think the writing was good in this moment” isn’t very convincing to me, I’m sorry.
But –I do think that they were onto something. I hesitate to make any grand claims, like “Maggie isn’t real,” or “The Metatron is editing the book of life,” because -to be honest- I don’t trust myself to put my name to something as big as that, and I don’t want to erase my favourite thing about Good Omens: its whimsicality. But I will say that there are themes and notable elements which I think will be important later and hint at some larger fuckery (if you’ll excuse the OFMD reference) going on, so consider this a kind of rejigging of the theory to be a more thematic approach that lays out things I just thought were interesting under an more open-ended (or flip-floppy, depending on how you take it) idea:
Something was going on this season which will be revealed as a Heavenly plot to split Aziraphale and Crowley up by the end. It worked. And the person to reveal the greater plot will be Muriel.
I’ll write down first of all a list of things that have been introduced to the world of Good Omens which I think are important, and highlight why one of them sticks out to me. Then I’ll work on a thematic basis of what things are shown to be worth narrative focus/presuppose S3. The first two themes are very much commentary drawing on the essay I’m responding to, and the second two are more my own ideas –certainly the fourth.
Okay, so: there are introductions to the Good Omens-verse which are clearly there to expand our world for later use. I don’t know if all of these things will come up again, but by the end of this season we know:
There are Nazi (and possibly more) zombies running around London.
There is a gun in Aziraphale’s bookshop -in case it’s needed. 
Heaven is interested in keeping things quiet, and they will fiddle with memories to do so. Erased memories can be “stored” in things/creatures.
There is a thing called “The Book of Life” that if you’re written out of, you NEVER EXISTED. (It can be edited, too, presumably.)
Crowley is possibly the most powerful being in the show. “Half a tiny miracle” ends up being enough to resurrect someone 25 times over, and his attempt to stay calm after a little tiff with aziraphale results in draining the street of electricity. Also he created the entire universe. (coming back to amend this with the fact Neil said he got going just "that tiny corner of space" -but I still feel there is significant evidence to say he is very powerful:) )
I lay these out because they’re just good to have noted down, really, and because they’re definitely GOING to be important. ALSO because the last one makes sense for the greater aim to be breaking up the ineffable husbands. Emphasis on Crowley’s power –and for their shared power– sets up a REAL threat for what we KNOW will be the basis of s2: The Second Coming. If you’re Heaven, and you want the second attempt at an apocalypse to be successful, you’d be stupid to let the two celestial beings who were meddling in the whole averted-apocalypse ordeal last time to just be AROUND for it. Especially when one has the ability to stop time!!! You’ve GOT to break them up. 
Theme 1: Investigation (Muriel!)
Investigation is a fun little theme in s2: Aziraphale goes full detective mode. He loves the clues, he’s in his little trilby investigating. All the marketing was very investigative and invites the audience to pay close attention. And there are SO many little easter eggs. From The Colour of Magic appearing to Gabriel reading the first lines of Good Omens –even as small as a Terry Prattchet impersonator speaking over the tannoy in Hell, or the film in The Resurrectionist being chosen specifically to play because there’s a scene where Jimmy Stewart talks to a fly. 
So! Investigation is fun! It’s important. And my favourite part of the essay I’m responding to is definitely that about Muriel. I think that all this build up to the detective-vibe is going to cumulate in their s3 role. Essentially: I entirely agree that they are coded as the one to blow open this whole case in S3. The police costume and giving them The Crow Road are certainly suggestive–but more than anything, leaving them in charge of the bookshop (full of Aziraphale’s diaries and books and everything) props them up perfectly to earn the promo they got for s2. Because I’m not sure about you, but my mutuals and I were shocked that the NYCC scene (“hello hello hello, I’m a human police officer!”) didn’t happen until episode three. From the way the promo was going (character profiles, trailer etc.) I thought Muriel would be in s2 WAY more.
They also make a HUGE point of how Muriel is considered “nobody.” They say it themselves, they’re called “the dull one” by Metatron.
They set them up perfectly to solve this later.
Theme 2: Memories and Stories:
Memory! Another theme! –memory that can be tampered with, contained, erased and returned.
Heaven is willing to meddle with and erase memories if necessary. They are, then, SUBTLE.
There is no God narrator.
There is a statue immortalising a very real Gabriel (somehow/for some reason –Gabriel was also involved in its making?) 
My favourite part of season 2 was definitely the minisodes. The costumes, the settings –I was so surprised to find the horses and carts in ep 3 were CGI in the X-Ray! They look so good! I loved how every single flashback was incredibly vital and interesting to expand on Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship –that convo on the rock in ep 2? WOW. Stunned. Anyway, not to go on.
I completely disagree with the conviction that these were edited. I think that, to the contrary, these memories are (IF there’s something going on with temptation/persuasion (more on that later) and The Book of Life) are ENTIRELY real. And the reason for that is highlighted in the very essay: each memory is tied to a physical record of it happening. The Book of Job; the Polaroid in ‘41, and Aziraphale’s diaries. This is not to say that there aren’t still gaps: where was the “I’m sorry” dance of ‘41? If Aziraphale wasn’t drinking in 2500 BC then when did he start? Just little things like this.
This is the thing: stories, words, are vital. The challenge that they gave the guy who did Sherlock (I can’t remember his name I’m sorry!) –it’s talked about in the X-Ray– was to have words pop out in 4 different ways across S2. This a fun stylistic choice, but it also gives words narrative attention, so ties in with all this. Without God to narrate, narratives and accounts are left to the characters within the world. It’s fun and important both. So is the spelling stuff. Maggie can’t spell, neither can the demons. (She may be a demon herself –I’m not entirely convinced it’s this simple, tbh, but Aziraphale’s miracle not working on her in ep5 is definitely a red flag.) Anyway – it’s also interesting.
With all this, my idea that Heaven/Metatron had been planning the aziracrow divorce from the beginning might mean they’re tampering with The Book of Life –it also could mean that they’re ABOUT to do something weird with Aziraphale’s memories, or all these pieces are going to become very very helpful for Muriel’s investigation.
I really do wonder what this role of records, memories and narratives will come to, but I have a feeling it’ll bleed into s3.
Theme 3: Food
Crowley was the reason Aziraphale tried food in the first place. I just wanted to put that down because of course he was, but also it is deeply INSANE that he INTRODUCED AZIRAPHALE TO THE CONCEPT OF EATING. God, David was right. They really don't exist without each other.
This is kind of the point I make with food here: it’s a HUGE theme in s2, largely just to emphasise the fact that it’s powerful.
For some reason (jokey or otherwise) eccles cakes can “calm you down.”
Aziraphale becomes significantly bonded to Crowley by eating the Ox in ep2. Later, Crowley is “as strong as an Ox." –fun little echo.)
They drink the same wine as always in ‘41 –they share no wine in s2, just the sherry and whiskey respectively. They also don’t share a meal, which seems interesting. I personally think that it’s to do with consumption being a metaphor for queer desire, and the absence of it being a sign of C/A being on “their own side” in s2. Crowley abandons temptation as Aziraphale abandons attempts to “save” Crowley. –-Or it may mean something else!
Crowley drinks laudanum and it makes him go lala. It ALSO makes him turn tiny, then giant, and he does something kind –kind enough to get him dragged off to hell and tortured so badly that he’s asking for holy water as “insurance” 40 years later.
That fucking oatmilk almond coffee. Okay. So if food is powerful, this has weight. From the colour of it being weird against the background to the fact (to quote my dear friend Jey) “nobody fucking drinks almond syrup!!” –I’m sure you’ve see all this going around. Almonds are obviously very poison-coded, and considering the above point I smell something strange. (I don’t believe it was quite a case of drugging per say, but more metaphor: Aziraphale is being tempted. He’s being manipulated, and drawn back into the culty office world of heaven.)
So what we know here is that food is powerful. An important metaphor and force (especially for aziracrow.)
Theme 4: Resurrection
OKAY: so, this is the most original of my listing in these themes. I am so interested in this resurrection thing they’ve got going.
The Resurrectionist pub: where Gabriel and Beez come to their plan. We see that The Dirty Donkey is a lift to heaven (which NOT enough people are talking about) –so what about The Resurrectionist? What power does it hold as a space? Why is the legacy of Mr Dalrymple important?
Why did (wee) Morag’s eyes glow briefly? Is she a zombie now?
Zombies exist. We know this. They’re also tied to the concept of consumption, which is cool.
Heaven measures miracles by Lazarii.
Gabriel, in one of his flashes of prophecy, says: “there will come a tempest (...) the dead will rise from their graves and wander the earth once more.”
These are all cool. Thematically, it seems that being raised from the dead is going to be something big. I’m interested in this, considering that after Gabriel said the above mentioned prophecy my good friend Jey said “hold on, is this going to be about The Rapture?”
Now: we know that “668: Neighbour of the Beast” was supposed to be set in America. Whether it actually is or not, I don’t know, but I think that if it is about a second coming on American soil, The Rapture feels VERY pertinent. The dead are the first to rise and be with God in The Rapture, but all believers join them: and they join them permanently. In some versions, there is a period in which Christ rules the earth. All very fun and interesting prospects for s3!
Where this leaves us:
S2 is the “bridge” between 1 and 3, in Neil’s words. It’s the “romantic filling” of the sandwich.
I would argue that some seriously tough bread started with “oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever,” but hey ho, that’s the very ending of the season. I just want to talk about coded language/draw on what I’ve just said to talk about how we’re set up for the structures of s3:
Heaven is a CULT. A serious cult. From the (temptation) manipulation of the coffee, to the man at the pub calling Gabriel a “mason” –which I’m assuming he means freemason– to the frankly INSANE smile on Michael Sheen’s face as the credits roll (also sickening lighting there)– they are a big threatening cult, and that is going to be important. I think it’ll just get increasingly so.
FurFur and Shax have it OUT for the ineffable husbands. Like they are NOT fans. And they seem to also be buddies now so… not great news.
In The Scene </3 Crowley stops himself short of saying he’d like to spend eternity with Aziraphale, and instead asks him to “go off together,” just like s1 –I think their language is going to develop hugely in s3. It’ll go back to being the space they “carved out for themselves,” only further.
And finally: a bet. The last time we see Crowley, he’s in a car full of plants because he’s carrying “their side” away with him. I am willing to bet –not that this is a hottake or anything– that it’ll end, as it began: in a garden. S3 will end in the garden of their South Downs Cottage !!!
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absurdthirst · 1 year
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Gone {Joel Miller x F!Reader}
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: Pre-Outbreak life, Baby Sarah, Postpartum depression, Postpartum psychosis, thoughts of self harming, thoughts of hurting a child, thought of shaking a baby, anguish.
Comments: Life isn't what you thought it would be. You have the home, the man, the baby. You find yourself struggling and believing that you don't deserve it.
A/N: PPD/PPP is a very real issue for many woman following childbirth and is often stigmatized. Many feel unable to reach out for help.
~ I felt the need to break my own heart this morning and work through some of the things that I faced with PPD through this. With the ambiguous background with Sarah's mother, I felt it was a good theory for why she left.
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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You want to cry, scream, throw things. You want to hurt her. That scares you most of all. The urge to pick her up and just shake her until she doesn’t cry anymore. How does one tiny little body make so much noise? Incessantly screaming to the point where she’s barely breathing, sucking in air just to expel it out at top volume, the sound ringing in your ears. 
Sitting in the corner, you crouch down, hands over your ears as you try to drown it out. Failing, always failing, never being able to take care of her. To do the right thing. Feeling the control that you are barely hanging onto slip with every fucking second that ticks by. Your nails digging into the side of your head are the only thing keeping you grounded. Keeping you from hurting her. From running into the room and snatching her out of the crib to make her stop. Or from hurting yourself.
It was supposed to be easy. People do it everyday. It was supposed to be natural. Maybe that’s the problem. It’s you. You’re not natural. You’re failing. 
The screams continue, making you whimper. The clock on the bedside table still reads 3:25pm. It’s only been twenty minutes since she started crying and still you can’t stand to hear it. To listen to her cry when nothing you do will help. She doesn’t want you. Another thirty minutes and he will be home. 
You’ve failed. You’re not a good mother. You’re not a good wife. You see it. You see it in the soft sighs he thinks you don’t catch. The way that his shoulders slump slightly when he comes into the military assigned housing and takes the fucking stupid little hat off his head and puts it on the rack near the door. Shucking his cammie blouse and taking over. Succeeding where you are failing. 
You were supposed to be the one he came home to after a day at work. Another day defending your country and providing for you. Giving you the chance to stay home with Sarah and bond with her. Telling you that you don’t have to go back to work until you're ready, but now you’re just another burden. Not his respite but his responsibility.
He comes home and cooks, cleans. He bathes Sarah, he feeds her and soothes her the way you can't. Changes the diapers and tuts over the diaper rash that has spread. Making you feel even more guilty because you forgot to put the butt cream on when you changed her hours before. Another thing you failed at. You can’t even change your daughter right. 
Joel doesn’t yell at you. He doesn’t call you names or even make fun of you. That hurts worst of all. He doesn’t care. All he says is that you need to make an appointment, that he will take you. He doesn’t understand. You can’t be fixed. 
No, that’s not right. He does care. He does. He tells you to go take a break, relax in a bath or run to the coffee shop that opened up down the street and take your book with you. It’s confusing why people keep saying that he doesn’t care and you feel like you’re losing your mind. 
They talk to you. All of them. All the time. Right when he is there holding Sarah. Telling you that they both hate you, and Joel never argues with them. He never corrects them or tells them to get the fuck out of his house. He pretends not to hear them when they mock or taunt you and when you start to cry, scream for them to go away, he looks hurt. Retreating with Sarah to another part of the house to leave you to talk to these people alone. 
The screaming stops. Making you pause, the tremors in your body making it hard to pull your hands away from your ears. Cautiously listening for a moment, until another squawk rings out, making you flinch and grit your teeth. 
What prompts you, you don’t know. One second you are huddling in a corner, the next you are ripping through your closet. Tearing clothes off hangers and shoving them into the gym bag you had dumped all Joel’s PT clothes out of. Crying yourself in time to the wails coming from the bedroom next door. You can’t do this. 
****
Joel sighs, his keys in his hand as he steps up to the front door. He can hear Sarah screaming, the panicked, angry howls telling him that she’s been at it for awhile. Probably spit up on herself while screaming in frustration at the inattention. 
There’s something wrong with you and he doesn’t know how to help. It hurts, it rips his fucking heart out when you seemingly shut down. Refusing to talk to him, to talk to anyone unless you are screaming at him to go away. 
Since Sarah was born, you’ve changed. He’s tried to help. He’s come home and taken over as much as he can without getting in trouble. He’s even delayed going out to the field the last two times because you need him here, Sarah needs him. 
The chaplin said that it might be time to have you brought in for care. Against your will. He’s struggled with that because he knows it will hurt you and he doesn’t want to do that. He wants you to get better, for yourself, for him, for Sarah. He knows you will hate him for it, especially if they keep you there. 
The door opens and he frowns. You aren’t downstairs and the baby is obviously crying from her room. Calling your name, he closes the door and quickly strips off his blouse and hand, boots still on his feet and quickly moves towards the stairs. 
Later, much later, he won’t be able to explain why, but he knew something was wrong. There was a feeling that had settled over the house. Making him rush up the stairs, skipping every second one in his haste. 
Bursting through the door to find the baby’s room empty except for the screaming, wriggling four month old in the crib. Her onesie is soaked and her tiny face is scrunched up and dark for screaming herself hoarse. 
“Shushhhhh, shuuuuushhh, baby girl.” Joel is all eyes on her, immediately bending down and crooning to his daughter as he picks her up and cups her to his chest. Spit and slobber, spit up and tears all soaking the army green undershirt of his uniform but he doesn’t care as he bounces her soothingly. “It’s okay, daddy’s gotcha. It’s okay, baby girl.” His hand that isn’t under her wet butt starts patting her back, the screams of anger starting to immediately soften now that she knows someone is there. 
“Baby?” Joel frowns, shaking his head as he moves out of the baby’s room. “Baby, where are you?” 
He knows things have been difficult for you, but you’ve never just left Sarah like this. Dread building in his guilt as he pushes open the half closed bedroom door. “Babe, you in here? What’s going on?” 
The covers on the bed are tossed around, but that’s not unusual. The clothes Joel had picked up were still in the basket, but there are new ones strewn out everywhere. Making him frown even more. “Babe?” 
The note sits on the dresser, beckoning him. Mocking him. Making the bare hope that you were just huddled in the bathroom, overwhelmed, plummet. Sarah hiccups against his pounding heart as he reaches for the note. Picking up the hastily ripped out notebook paper and flipping it open. 
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. 
Six words. Six words are all he gets. All the explanations he will ever get. You’re gone. 
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natashawritesstuff · 2 years
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time-skip! oikawa x reader
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“Fuckboys get married at twenty.”
“Hi… hi is also a way to start a conversation,” you say, and your best friend, Kumiko shrugs. 
She’s had this theory for as long as you’ve known her. Good guys take their time in settling down in getting married because when they find the one, what’s the rush? Fuckboys, however, are different. Fuckboys are immune to love until they’re not. So when they find the one they know it’s real and at that point, why wait?
You think it’s bullshit. And also not a proper greeting as she sat across from you, rolling her eyes still yet to say hello. 
“This is our last hangout, come on,” you say and she pouts. 
“Why do you have to go all the way to Argentina?”
“I told you. I’m sick of saying I love Miyagi just cause I’ve never been anywhere else. I wanna go places, see the world.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t forget about me.”
“I could never.”
“Or my theory.”
“Whatever,” you say, laughing brushing her notion off. 
You move to Argentina the summer after you turn nineteen. You do a year studying abroad but kept an open mind in case you wanted to stay. The country is breathtaking. The food, the atmosphere, the culture, the people. Well, a person.
“You’re kidding?” you ask, bewildered. 
“Yeah, I went to Aoba Johsai. I was a setter for the volleyball team, even made captain in my third year,” Oikawa Toru will tell you over a morning coffee, your first official date.
“That’s crazy! We lived in the same prefecture and didn’t meet until we’re both across the world.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, “I really wish I would have met you sooner,” he confesses, sending a longing look your way that makes your heart skip a beat. 
“You probably say that to every pretty face that walks in here don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” he says and with the way he pauses after the words come out, it was almost like he was just figuring that out himself. 
You smile and as he watches your lips curve upwards, he smiles too. You shy away from his gaze, turning away but he places a finger under your chin to where your eyes meet once more. “You look beautiful.”
“T-thanks.”
“Anytime,” he promises and one thing about Oikawa is that he keeps his word. 
He would call you beautiful nearly every day he would see you, and you saw the man every day. He became an addiction, something you always craved and never got enough of, and from the way he would hug you just a little bit longer before he’d go back to his place, he felt it too. The mornings he stayed over were long and lazy, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you further into his chest when you tried to get up a moment too soon. He places soft kisses on your collarbone when you sleep longer than he does and even after the alarms ring and are snoozed over five times, he won’t dare to let go first. Safe to say after not too long, you were in love. 
Unfortunately for him because you were also going back home. The school year had come and gone all too quickly and just shy of your one-year anniversary; a milestone where he wanted to ask you to move in, he was helping you move away. 
You hear a small sniffle as he tapes up the last box and you stop what you were doing, walking over to hug him. His larger frame envelops yours as he pulls you in an impossibly tight embrace and you feel him trying not to cry.
“I don’t wanna go.”
“Then stay,” he pleads, pulling away and you gaze up at his bloodshot eyes. 
“I can’t-”
“You can.”
“My lease here just expired-”
“Move in with me,” he offers.
“School-”
“Transfer.”
“My friends-”
“We’ll go back and visit as much as you want. Just please, please don’t leave me.”
You sigh and take his hands in yours as you explain, “look, I love you. So much, but I can’t take this kind of chance on a boyfriend-”
“Will you marry me?”
“What?” you whisper, voice so quiet you barely heard it yourself. 
“Marry me? I was gonna ask anyway, been thinking about it since our first date. I have a ring at my place, I’ll get you a better one eventually. And you’ll get the best seats for my games. And when I can’t wear my ring I’ll put it on a chain and you can wear it when I’m playing-”
“Toru,” you interrupt and he shakes his head with a wobbly smile. 
“Y/N, marry me. Please.”
Kumiko’s theory was right. Fuckboys get married at twenty, but she left out one crucial piece of information. She never said anything about who actually marries them.
“I…yes.”
And that it’d be you.
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10 years later pt 2
Aoba Johsai Materlist
Return to Main Masterlist
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ashirisu · 9 months
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All my love to fans of the coffee theory, but I will never be able to get behind it. It will always be better and more interesting to me to assume that Aziraphale is actually just a complex character who makes mistakes as a result of his trauma.
He’s a sweetheart and of course we don’t want to think less of him, but it’s a disservice to the story to act like warm, soft, and loving characters are incapable of making poor (if well-intentioned) decisions through the lens of their negative biases. A sneaky miracle brainwashing in the final fifteen robs him of the agency he’s spent the last six thousand years painstakingly developing—not only does it take away his ability to make his own decision in the moment, it also completely ignores the impact that millennia of indoctrination has had on his psyche.
The indoctrination (and Aziraphale’s learning to question it) is the core theme of the minisodes. In each scenario, he’s forced to question the moral code of heaven and accept that life on earth is complex, and even then, he still struggles to see the point completely. Crowley is still the only demon he doesn’t distrust on sight, and he only openly admits to there being “very light” shades of grey. He’s working on it, but he’s still got at least six more episodes of self-reflection to go.
In every conceivable way, this decision is actually a step in the right direction in terms of his personal character arc. Aziraphale doesn’t have all the information we’re working with as an audience, so we can’t expect him to see the extent to which he’s being manipulated and the full scope of Crowley’s feelings for him. From his perspective, he’s only recently come to terms with how fundamentally flawed the system is and is being given the opportunity to implement real change from the top—to let the entirety of heaven see the shades of grey he’s discovered and end the practice of eternally punishing anyone who asks questions.
Why would someone who’s finally allowed to openly love his best friend, who has just watched another angel and demon successfully find love by following his example, see that as anything but an absolute win?
Of course it hurts and of course it’s devastating, because we as the audience see the truth of what’s happening, but I promise it’ll ultimately be more rewarding to let this be part of his character development instead of a divinely-contrived backslide that leaves no more room for personal growth. Aziraphale realizing he was wrong and working to amend it (which he will, given his characterization up to this point) will make for a better story than him realizing he was magically forced to act contrary to his beliefs.
Our angel can be flawed and messily three-dimensional and we can still love him, it’s okay. I don’t think we should diminish him for the sake of an almond syrup MacGuffin.
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ctinalk · 2 months
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Season two isn’t (fully) real, it’s a peaceful, fragile existence
The more I rewatch the show and read different theories, the more convinced I get that S2 is some sort of elaborate dream sequence or a distraction or memory alteration attempt (Neil’s chaotic angsty ineffable husbands fanfic?). But not all of it.
(This gets kind of rambly so if you want my true hook, scroll down to the Michael Sheen Staged gif.)
Let me make this perfectly clear on the outset: I don’t think all of it is a dream, and I certainly don’t think the final 15/kiss is or is going to be discounted (and not only because there would be literal riots in the street, because there absolutely would be, but also I’m putting trust in Neil and the team wholeheartedly). I think that could actually be the domino that brings them out of it. I read somewhere recently something along the lines of “something loved can never be truly forgotten” and I think that fits my theory perfectly. I’m also making no claims (yet) as to what I think is real and what I think is “enhanced”.
Also I apparently am either too far deep or cannot work the tumblr search function with any modicum of usefulness, so please link me to the posts I’m alluding to if you think it’s the right one. I will edit them in and sincerely apologize to the brilliant minds that exist outside the confines of the search function.
Now, On with the show:
You can be in charge of the biscuits
Maggie and Nina: Look, I get that recasts happen, they change the actor playing the character because of scheduling conflicts, etc. But to cast the actor/actress that is immediately recognizable from a prior interaction (whether with the characters or the audience) is not something you see. FFS Maggie DIED in S1, and Nina was pivotal (maybe too strong a word, but enough to be memorable surely) to the storyline. It’s like someone said “Hey, they’ll work, bring em in, no I don’t care that they were in S1. It’ll be a test of how well our facade is working. If they (A&C) notice, then the gig is up and we’ll know it.”
Also why in the world is the owner of a coffee shop offering Eccles cakes to calm down, when camomile tea is right there? (Resists the urge to go off on a tangent on how Eccles cakes were used to celebrate the “Eccles wakes” at the feast of St. Mary (yes that Mary) and how that ties into the second coming plot.) Do Eccles cakes count as biscuits? Ugh another thought for another day I suppose.
It has come to my attention during writing that Shax is the same actress as Madame Tracy. I have less of an affront to this knowledge since I’m 2 months deep and countless rewatches in and only just noticed. But I’m going to pop it in this header anyway. Are you really trying to tell me that a show that apparently has demon entrances happening precisely on the 6s really didn’t think these choices out very deliberately? (Edit 3: https://www.tumblr.com/noneorother/735823422626709504/the-secret-timeline-inside-of-good-omens-season-2 JFC why can I never find the blogs when I want to insert them? It was a breakdown about how all of the demon entrances happen at a 00:00 that ends in a 6.)
Yours very faithfully, Maggie
Text to mail disconnect: There’s been a theory pop up (at the time one writing this at least (edit 2: https://www.tumblr.com/azariah-z-fell/743434274903048192/it-is-extra-weird-because-it-is-on-the-record) that Maggie actually texted Aziraphale her request to talk, and it was magically translated into a physical form, and the spelling error (that so many people are shouting DEMON at) was just an autocorrect typo. But, surely Maggie would know he doesn’t text if she knew him for several years at least. We’ve never seen either of our boys text, only call. Seems like someone doesn’t know how phones work, but wanted to get the message received? See also: currency, below.
You ever think, what’s the point?
Numerous people have pointed out the same obvious background people. There are theories about the guy in the Hawaiian shirt being the second coming or something similar. I wonder if it’s some sort of play on a badly executed attempt to make Wickber Street seem “normal” in an alternate reality, an elaborate distraction, but they have to keep using the same character models because their imagination is just slightly better than Shadwells’ (Oh gfdi how did I miss Mrs. sandwich right there). I’m not saying we haven’t done a “oh oops silly me I forgot something” but that isn’t usually done in the middle of a sidewalk. When Aziraphale is initially talking to Jim with the blanket, there’s a guy just chugging his arms outside the window, not walking. Another one in E3 when Shax show up outside the shop, a guy in an orange sweatshirt passes in the background, then passes again, and not close enough in time/area to just be the continuation of the walk. Especially in the early episodes, there are veritable conveyer belts of people, straight lines, no trying to pass, etc. I’m trying to look at the background in S1 and while there are still tons of people, the background is… livelier. People passing, shoving past, actually going places.
“I’m looking at the statue of Gabriel.” “Oh, good job?”
Aziraphale basically learns fuck-all when he makes the trip to Edinburgh. Granted, I do believe most of that was to make the Bentley “our car”, but so many things are out of character. The no drink, the over-the-top “investigation” (as awkward as he is, Aziraphale knows how to act more normally than that with humans), the background on the drive up there…
All the others were taken (random collective thoughts)
Somehow ALL the businesses on the street are different from Season 1?
A normal person would have moved out of the rain instead of just lolling there letting raid splatter their glasses, yeah? (As a person with glasses I can confirm).
“We have all the hosts of hell searching for him” cue Crowley looking around like then why the fuck are there still demons around me?
The cross disappearing from the Gabriel statue between shots.
“I’m a bit out of miracles” and “that’s not how miracles work” from the guy who got written up for too many frivolous miracles.
I have here a sixpence and a farthing There’s always money in the banana stand
The lack of (accurate?) paid transactions seems like whoever is pulling the strings has no concept of earthly money and how it’s supposed to work, just that it exists. Crowley and Aziraphale talk bluntly about poverty and know that money is needed and used in current society (“Give her the money, Angel”, Rome, Globe Theatre, 1941 magic shop, etc.). Could be a “let’s not get lost in the trivialities” thing but it does strike me as odd. Caveat: Aziraphale forgiving the rent doesn’t quite fit, but cost of the record is obscenely low.
But this does give me hope about the 3rd 1941 flashback, because they were using money accurately there, which hopefully means the flashbacks and memories aren’t being altered, just “present day”.
We’re real people
One of the overarching themes in Season 2 (and S1 now I think of it) is “stop interfering in the lives of other people”. Maggie and Nina, Job, Elspeth, the entire dance party, Warlock, the book of prophecy. It would be a shame if someone were to make sure I failed to be messing about in their own lives.
I had brothers, you don’t scare me
Something happened just before Maggie told them to “Come in here and say that to my face.” Another demonic turn potential here, but also kind of like someone’s saying “FFS get on with the plot”.
The book of love has music in it
This post https://www.tumblr.com/noneorother/731977308306636800/all-the-music-you-didnt-hear-the-good-omens (finally, one I can find!) popped up, and there’s another one that purports to have noticed that there’s music lines missing from the opening sequence (edit 1: Found it!: https://www.tumblr.com/dadesu/726651737165938688/anyone-noticed-the-missing-half-bar-in-good-omens ). Possibly Clueing us in that there’s something that’s missing elsewhere (I mean obviously, that’s the whole point of this season, is it not?).
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So where do we go from here?
As much as I’d love to say “Alright so the kiss breaks the spell whoever was put over them because of ✨the power of love✨, the ruse will be revealed, and they’re not talking because they don’t have to”
I don’t know, my thoughts are just the overarching patterns I’ve noticed over many, many rewatches and probably reading a few too many magic trick theories and/or fanfics. I don’t intentionally make my theory posts open-ended, but in the end that’s the fun of it. Nothing has to be mutually exclusive (yes I’m referencing my “Is Crowley already the new Supreme Archangel” post, I think I’m allowed that much). I’m happy to be proven wrong, and probably will be.
Lots of things are wrong right now
But I will leave you with one parting thought: Crowley knows. He knows there’s furniture missing. (That’s why he keeps just tossing things everywhere, because he know it doesn’t matter.)
And he. Does not. Care. For it.
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How many theories that I myself hate can I dig into?
I’m a demon, I lied:
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