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writingouthere · 3 months

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bestfriendsbrother!Sukuna x pregnant!reader one-shot

summary: you're excited to finally share with all your friends that your pregnant when the party is interrupted by your best friend's older brother, who you didn't invite, but who you did have unprotected sex with less than two months ago.

cw: reader is pregnant, Sukuna is a bad dude, possessive behavior, minor smut, still as usual nicer than it sounds because I can't help it.

**************

"I'm pregnant!"

Your news is met with a period of silence before your friends look at each other, uncertain as to how to react.

Nobara finally breaks the silence, an eyebrow raised. "And we feel...."

"We're happy about it," you say and your friends are then quick to congratulate you. You hear some sort of scuffling happening behind you and you turn around to see Yuuji unfolding a "We're having a Baby!" banner which makes Megumi nearly jump out of his chair.

"Holy shit, did you two-"

"No!"

"Ew, no!"

Yuuji frowns at you. "The 'ew' wasn't necessary."

You and Nobara scoff. "It was," you tell him. "And I say that with all my love."

"Okay, so if this idiot didn't knock you up-"

"Hey!"

"-then who did?"

You'd been expecting the question and had prepared for it. "It was just a one night stand, he's not really father material." Everyone looks like they want to ask more questions so you smile at them, genuinely happy they all look ready to commit a crime for you. "It's okay, I have a good job and this is something I've wanted for a long time. This baby will be really loved because it will have me and, I hope, all of you."

Your friends are quick to agree and there's some lighter questions about potential names, nurseries and Nobara and Todo are looking at her phone debating baby onesies, when the door to you and Yuuji's apartment opens and someone you had definitely not invited comes in.

"Sukuna! You're late, you missed the big news," Yuuji calls out as he walks over and claps his brother on the back. A few people call out greetings as Yuuji's older brother looks around the apartment. His eyes linger on you for a second, a smirk tugging up on his lip before he notices the sign hanging crooked over the kitchen doorway and he laughs without an ounce of humor.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me, you knocked someone up? You irresponsible piece of shit-"

"It's not his and don't kill him, you asshole," Megumi says from where he has now joined the onesies discussion and points over at you. "It's the other person who lives here."

Sukuna pauses from where he was about to murder his brother, to look back over at you. You wonder if his brain is doing the same cursed math that you had done when you were hyperventilating, holding a stick covered in your own pee, but before he could ask anything, Maki ended the silent stand off.

"And we're happy about it, so get happy you piece of shit."

With that, the party continues on, people breaking off until little groups and snacks being placed strategically throughout the apartment.

You're feeling thirsty, and a little exhausted from the burning stare that's been directed at you for the past hour when you excuse yourself from where Miwa and Mechamaru had been talking about their own future plans for children, who you're sure would be socially inept but gorgeous enough to make up for it, and made your way to the kitchen.

You were pulling out some water, no alcohol for you even though you really needed it, when you felt someone's presence behind you.

"So when were you going to tell me we were having a baby?"

"Never, because it's not yours," you answered firmly, slamming the door to the fridge for good measure. Sukuna leaned against the cabinet next to you but you'd known him long enough to see the pose for what it was. A ruse, a performance of casualness. The fingers on his hand tapped against his arm like he was playing the piano, one of the few tics he had that showed when he was feeling, well just feeling anything in general.

"Oh please, you're not fucking anyone else."

"You don't know that and we're not fucking, we fucked once. Singular, past tense."

He laughed and looked down at you, the same predatory look he'd had the night he'd helped you make this child.

"And once was all it took huh? Fucked you so good, you're going to have my baby," he says, voice mocking and he stands up to his full height which puts him over you. He takes the glass of water you're really regretting now, and places it on the counter opposite the two of you.

"It-it's not your baby," but you don't sound sure and he knows it and he presses up against you until your back is to the counter. Nowhere for you to run.

"It's mine, just like you're mine. I don't know who you think you're kidding with this denial of me but it's done now, sweetheart."

You go to answer him and Sukuna covers your mouth with his hand like the rude fuck he is and then leans down, his mouth next to your ear. You look around, worried someone might see you but the gap between the fridge and the counter conceals you both and the room next to you keeps getting louder and louder. The sun had set and there were maybe some lamps in the living room, but here in the kitchen it was dark.

"I let you have your space and your time, two months of it actually. I let you have your little moral crisis about fucking a criminal and it being the best dick you've ever had wah wah, but I was impatient before I knew you were having my baby, and now," he leans back so his eyes, and they're on fire his eyes, are level with yours. "I'm done waiting."

You tug on Sukuna's hand and he rolls his eyes before removing it from your mouth and places it on your hip which doesn't seem like a good trade-off but at least you can speak again.

"What does that even mean?" You ask him, your voice showing the incredulity you're feeling but if Sukuna had anything, it was audacity.

"I mean I'll give you a week to tell your friends you're having our baby and that we're getting married." He says it so seriously that you can't help but laugh which seems to be the wrong response when his other hand moves to your hip as well and squeezes, tight.

"We are not getting married, are you out of your mind?"

"Why not, we're already having a baby, are you going to deny me the ability to live with my own child."

"Still not your kid, and we can't get married Sukuna. We never even dated! We fucked one time, that doesn't mean we should just be together forever."

"We fucked for one night, it was more than one time-"

"Not the argument you think it is," you interrupt him but you still let him pick you up and place you on the counter. You sit there while he runs his hands up and down your thighs, the sounds of the party washing over the two of you as you stay in your little bubble.

"We'd be good together," he finally says. "Not just because I knocked you up on the first try." You hit him but he just smirks and moves his hands more purposefully on your legs. You let him pull them apart and step between them even though warning bells are going off in your head, telling you these are moves you'd seen before and they had led to you being in the predicament the two of you were debating in the first place.

"It's inevitable, the two of us. You can say you hate me, or that I'm not a good man, and that's true. But there's a reason why you've never stayed with any of those nice boys," he says and his hands slips up the skirt you're wearing to get at your bare thighs underneath. "Because you don't want a nice guy, you don't want a good man, you want me and I'm too selfish to let you keep torturing both of us by doing this pretending shit."

The fingers on his right hand press against your cunt through your panties while his other hand squeezes your thigh and he moans sinfully into the quiet air.

"God, I knew I didn't make up this warm, wet cunt. Been fucking my fist until I chafed the past two months just thinking about it."

You whimper as he moves your underwear aside and slips one finger up and down your slit, not touching your clit or going where you want him, but doing enough that you move against his hand.

"This does not mean that we should get married," you protest and he teases a finger against your opening, pulling it back when your hips tilt up in an attempt to get him where you want.

"Why not? I heard pregnant women get super horny, what are you going to do without me around to make sure this filthy pussy gets stuffed just the way she needs." He finally slips one finger in, his thumb moving to tease against your clit, just the way you like it and your head smacks back against the cabinet. He moves the hand that had been on your thigh up so he can cradle your head.

"I'm sure I could find someone willing to help me out," you say scoffing and his hand freezes which makes you whine a little and try to get him to move again but his legs limit your range of motion.

"You ever try to fuck someone else ever again and the coroner is going to have to get dental records to figure out who the dumb fuck with no fingers, no eyes and no cock is, you got it?"

He's not joking, you know he's not joking but it doesn't stop you from leaning forward until you finally get your lips on his. He hums into your kiss, cupping your cheek in his free hand while the other one goes back to opening you up. You're so wet that the kitchen fills with the sounds of his him finger fucking your cunt but you can't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. He's not wrong that pregnancy has made you more sensitive, or maybe it's just you not having gotten laid since the two of you had slept together.

He's got three fingers in you when you come and he swallows your moans greedily with mouth while his fingers slow inside of you, curving just right to make you think you could probably come again soon, oversensitive or not.

Before you can test that out, he pulls away from you. He licks the fingers he pulled out of you clean and you you're reminded of how the last time he'd made you come twice just with his mouth.

"Where are you going?" you ask him, a little more breathless than you like.

"We are going home," he tells you, grabbing your hands and helping you down off the counter. Giving you a kiss on your forehead that you would tease him for if you were anyone else.

"Home?" you ask, confused because you are currently standing in your apartment unless his orgasms suddenly give one the power to teleport.

"Yeah, our home, not the shitty apartment you share with my brother. I mean we'll have to get somewhere bigger soon, for our baby."

For the first time since you found out you were pregnant, someone who was not you laid out their palm on your still just the same stomach. There was no change from how it always looked but Sukuna looked smug just the same and you felt like you were still missing a few things.

"What-"

"I mean I can fuck you here, I just thought your sensibilities and the fact your friends were all out there would make you uncomfortable."

Your post orgasm flush finally leaves you and you look up at him in panic. "Oh my god, do you think someone saw-"

"It's okay, Fushiguro kept them out I'm sure."

You don't want to know but ask anyway. "Why?"

"Because he walked in earlier and looked like he'd seen a ghost. Tell me, is the kid still a virgin? He's pretty but I can't imagine he has a lot of good options in your crowd."

When you leave to go to Sukuna's, the only people who don't look confused(or horrified in Yuuji's case) at your departure are Maki and Megumi.

If the confusion hadn't been cleared up by the time the baby came, the pink hair probably answered any follow up questions.

dealing with some writer's block and had this idea. didn't feel like writing a whole smut scene, my b but saving that energy for the next(?) neighborsukuna x singlemom one.

side note: Megumi is scarred for life, for sure. Yuuji gets over his horror once he's an uncle.

#jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months

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Batmom Cass : enter Barbara

Part one of 2

“You did good work,” Barbara said, in a casual tone. Proud.

Timmybird nodded and gave a flash of teeth in a smile. Didn't believe. It's nothing, look away. “Glad you think they'll pass.” He rolled his neck. “I don't want anyone to be able to prove he's Danny F.”

Cass watched their interplay casually, hair damp from the post-patrol shower and comfortably swimming in an oversized sweatshirt. She played with the ends of the sleeve as they talked.

“They can suspect it all they like, but it'd be hard to disprove this is a separate kid.” Barbara ran her palms over her wheelchair handles in an unconscious tic that meant she wanted to go, go, go. “Still, I like the idea of keeping him out of the public eye until we nail down what's going on in Illinois. This GIW group is bad news.”

Cass bit her lip and flexed her toes, uncertain. Danny was getting restless. And he was a teenager: he needed to be in school. He needed to learn, stretch his wings, grow.

But safe. He needed to be safe, first.

The trouble was she didn't know how to make him fully safe. She'd had him for four days now. Judging by the report of his death, Danny baby had been homeless and on the run for more than a month. He was hiding. Even when she was in the room, he was looking for attacks. Who was he looking for? Dad and mom Fenton? GIW group?

“-gonna hit the showers,” said her little brother.” Cash barely registered him heading to the batcave bathrooms. She was internally weighing her bat nosiness sense against her worry about pushing Danny for answers too soon.

“Am I good to meet him, Mamabird?”

Cass blinked back to awareness. “Mama bat,” she corrected. “Yes.” She cracked her lower back. Mm. Too much standing after patrol. She needed to move a little. “Breakfast. Baby wakes up soon.”

Barbara snorted. “I'll go to bed after,” she said wryly, because they had been flying and solving into the morning light. Riddler was out on the streets. “Did someone check with Alfred about adding me to the breakfast table?”

She didn't know. Cass hummed and flipped over to walk on her hands up the stairs. It sent a pleasant ache through her upper back. Stabilizing her core and legs was just the right amount of casual challenge to make her body feel better.

“Christ,” Barbara said quietly, and huffed out a laugh. The elevator dinged. “I'll see you upstairs.”

Barbara Batgirl beat Cass to the top. Cass huffed in displeasure at the loss and flipped back to her feet. She ducked into the first bathroom they passed to wash her hands.

Alfie was in the kitchen in his morning waistcoat and a thin, comfortable button up shirt. Casual day!

“Good morning, Miss Cassandra,” he said. The kitchen smelled like yeasty bread. Cass sneezed happily and peered around to see meats, cheeses, and fruits.

“Morning!” She chirped. “Barbara wants to stay for breakfast,” Cass said. Barbara wheeled in a moment later, sheepish.

“Good morning, Alfred,” she said. “If it's not too much trouble-”

“It's no trouble at all,” he reassured. “Miss Cassandra, would you add an extra place setting?”

Cass hopped to it, mimicking the placement Alfred had made. It was a nearly full table today. Timbird, Batdad, Dickbird, Cass, Danny baby, Damibat. And now Barbara bat.

She heard a jaw-cracking yawn before Danny swung open the door. “Good morning,” Danny baby yawned through his hand. His eyes were bleary. She watches with amusement as he shuffled in, face down. “Have a good ni-”

He stopped. Eyes on Barbara bat.

New adult, he was scared?

No. Cass rapidly calculated and shifted his shifting body language into emotions. Surprise, joy, love-love-lo-wrong! Not love! Sad. Wistful.

“This is my baby,” Cass said, pretending she didn't notice the reaction. “Danny. This is Barbara.”

Barbara must have noticed Danny's reaction to her. She didn't move closer, lifting a friendly hand from across the countertop.

Danny looked haunted. Danny looked small. “It's nice to meet you, Barbara,” he said. Weak smile.

She had to talk to him, Cass realized. She had to talk with him today. No more delaying. After breakfast, she would talk.

#red mama bat #dp x dc #dc x dp #cassandra cain #dc fanfic

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starrystevie · 1 year

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eddie figures out that he likes steve all because of nancy fucking wheeler.

it isn't often that they find themselves hanging out just the two of them, quite the opposite. this is the first time they've ever done it and the only reason nancy is even stepping foot inside the munson's new government-provided trailer is because she's having a crisis.

"but what does it mean," she asks, voice muffled as her lips wrap around the opening of her beer bottle before taking a swig. her cheeks hollow and her eyes shut against the feeling of the carbonation bubbling up before she fixes eddie with a glare that he doesn't think is for him. "it didn't... feel this way with barb."

and eddie's just sitting there on the couch, rolling a much needed joint for both of them, trying to follow along with what nancy is saying. she's pacing a hole in the carpet and her hands are flying around in a way that eddie himself does when the wheels in his brain are spinning too fast.

"... what didn't feel what way?"

nancy glares at him again and he gets the feeling that it's directed at him this time. he feels himself shrink under her eyes and wants to raise his hands up in surrender (he gives in and does indeed raise his hands in surrender).

"i think i'm in love with robin, please try and keep up."

eddie stills, his hands in the air and mouth open in shock. nancy's still muttering about something but his brain is stuck on the being-in-love-with-robin part of her tirade. it's not an issue, not in the slightest, and sure he's heard of people who... but he's never met someone who actually-

"are you even listening?" nancy asks, her tone firm. she has a hand on her hip while the other is clenched tightly around the neck of her beer. "what am i supposed to do?! am i just supposed to kiss her and tell her that her eyes are my favorite color and that i miss her when she leaves a room even for just a minute?"

"how should i know?! i'm not in love with robin!" eddie responds and he knows it's the wrong answer by how nancy's whole face falls in the span of .02 seconds. she looks like she's on the brink of tears, frustrated or hopeless or sad, and eddie doesn't know what to do with that either.

"but... you know. what about steve?" nancy's voice is soft now, and paired with her puppy dog eyes, eddie almost doesn't process what she says. "how'd you know with him?"

and if eddie thought he was stunned before, this takes the cake. a nervous laugh bubbles out of him, his face hot and heart pounding. his arms feel a bit like liquid and he doesn't know if he's even breathing anymore.

"nancy, i'm sorry but i think we're on two different wave lengths here." he needs to do something with his hands so he starts to fiddle with his lighter, flicking the zippo open and shut until the clink of the metal sounds too loud in the quiet room. "i don't.... love steve."

tears start to roll down her cheeks and yeah, eddie definitely messed up somewhere. she's wiping the drops away furiously like she's surprised they even dared to show up and she's biting her lip in a way that looks like it hurts.

"what are you talking about? of course you do." her eyebrows furrow which makes her look even angrier or disgusted and eddie feels like they're on a tightrope in his living room that's about to snap away from underneath them.

"well yeah, i... love him," he stutters over the words, "like i love you and rob and everyone. but not like... love love."

nancy's laugh sounds way too harsh for it to have come out of her. "are you sure? you stare at his ass more than i stare at robin's." she takes a deep breath, ignores the gasp of indignation that her statement gets out of eddie, and tilts her chin up like she's taking the high ground.

"i do not!"

"do too! and you're always looking for him when you walk into a room, like it doesn't matter if we're there, you only look for him. and you sit right next to him even if there's an open seat that's more comfortable. and you have this little, i don't know, tic when he smiles that makes you wiggle your fingers and you-"

"wheeler, you gotta stop."

"-always listen to him and he does all of that back for you and it's so obvious. i can't believe you didn't know you were in love with steve! you do everything that i do for robin and i'm in love with her so it must mean you're in love with steve and- holy shit i'm in love with robin."

the silence after nancy stops rings loud in his ears. honestly, he hadn't really given it any thought before but it makes sense.

the very idea of steve has his heart feeling a way it hasn't since he was nine and tracy nichols gave him a shiny rock on valentine's day. he does always look for steve when he enters a room, his very presence calming and dependable. he does sit next to him no matter what, their sides pressed together, heat radiating between them like a blanket. and god, when steve smiles, he does have to move his fingers, something to get out these jolts of energy that he feels licking through his veins.

steve is good and steve is a bit of an asshole but eddie likes that and suddenly the line between platonic and romantic seems to have vanished because holy shit, how did he live for the past year without spending every day loving steve harrington?

eddie reaches for the half rolled joint, licks at the paper to close it and lights up quickly. he holds the smoke in his lungs for probably too long but couldn't care less because he's now having a crisis of his own thanks to nancy.

"goddamnit," eddie hisses out as he exhales. "i'm in love with steve."

nancy looks smug, her arm extended as she waits for eddie to pass the joint to her before taking a hit. "that's what i'm saying."

"but i'm not... you know."

nancy rolls her eyes. "it's not going to bite you if you say it, eddie."

"i'm not gay."

the silence seems louder now as the paper on the joint sizzles. there's a dog somewhere in the park barking and he can hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"neither am i." nancy responds quietly with a shrug of her shoulders. "but i am for robin. and you are for steve."

she passes the joint back over to eddie and stands up from the couch, wipes off imaginary crumbs from her pants like she didn't just turn eddie's world upside down.

"i think i'm gonna go. i have a lady to woo." nancy looks happy. it's a good look on her, one he doesn't see all that often what with everything that's happened to them in the past year. she deserves it, he thinks, happiness.

"let me know how it goes," he calls to her as she stops at the trailer door.

"i will." with a tilt of her head and a with a gleam in her eye, she gives eddie yet another look that he doesn't know if he wants to try and decipher. "you should call him."

eddie snorts and takes a hit, rolling his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to look at nancy's all knowing eyes. it isn't that he's scared to call steve, it's that he's terrified. petrified. what would he say? what would steve say? he just figured out that he loves him, he hasn't had time to prepare a whole speech to declare it and-

"eddie." nancy's voice is sharp but certain and part of him thinks that robin is a lucky woman to have nancy wheeler falling in love with her. "trust me. call him."

after she's gone, he finishes the joint. he sits in the silence of his trailer and pulls hit after hit of sticky smoke until it's down the end and burning his fingertips. he stares at the ceiling some more, contemplates what to say, how to say it, how to do anything without throwing up.

he wonders if wayne knows, if he saw what nancy saw, what he thinks of eddie falling in with a guy. he wonders if this will change everything. wonders if it'll change for better or worse. wonders if he'll have to skip town and change his name like he imagined doing after he was cleared of murder.

picking up the phone is easy, dialing is easier when he has steve's number memorized like the back of his hand.

"hello?" steve mutters like he's been roused out of sleep. his voice is scruffy and somehow soft and eddie knows he's going to throw up.

"steve."

"hey, man. is everything okay?"

and it makes eddie's heart flutter in a way that a generic question shouldn't but damn it, he's in love. he's allowed.

"yeah, yeah. everything's good i just-" eddie sighs, scrubs a hand down his face to stop from twirling the phone cord in his fingers. "do you wanna maybe come over? watch a movie or something?"

eddie can almost hear the smile in his voice when he breathes out a yes, thanking whatever higher powers there may be for nancy wheeler.

#yikes i had way too much to do at work today but didn't do anything of it until i wrote this down oops #honestly the only place i write stranger things headcanons is at work apparently #steddie #steddie headcanon #but also a mini bit of #ronance #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #my writing #the next fic i write has to be ronance because i've yet to write anything angsty for them and i NEED to #please excuse the gratuitous overuse of italics in this #1k #2k

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highttowers · 10 months

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Hello i am requesting for Carmen from the Bear!! Something sweet and heart warming about Carmen being worried about the reader and just the whole kitchen seeing how in love he is ❤️ thank you

yes to heaven.

pairing(s); carmen “carmy” berzatto x gn!reader

fandom; the bear (fx on hulu)

w/c; 758 words

trigger/content warnings; brief sexual implications, brief mention of past injuries, language, richie (he’s a warning all by himself), tina n richie being mean to carmy lol, tina and reader chisme together, is this another fic with an ldr song title????, brief touches on carmy’s trauma (not in-depth cuz this is a fluff fic), not-proof read, lmk if i missed anything.

stella speaks! i need him biblically. at first, i was like “mmm, jeremy allen white” as a joke. but bro. i don’t think it’s a joke anymore…

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto who’s always watching you. Who has his eye on you, if you will ;)

Carmy, whose eyes are trailing your figure when you first meet. Not in a sexual way, just taking in every detail. The way you stand, the way you move your hands when you talk. Any time you wear a shirt more than once, the nervous tics you have while he tries your food, if you have any visible tattoos, freckles, or birthmark. His eyes snag on every little thing you do for a split second.

Carmy, whose gaze is locked in your hands while you demonstrate your abilities. He’s taking in every scar, every cut, every tear, every burn that was once fresh in the skin of your hands and committing it to memory. He doesn’t know why, he just is.

Carmy, whose eyes will flicker to your face every so often as you cook, lingering in the scrunch of your brow, the purse of your lip, the muttering under you breath, every curve and divet on your cheeks.

Carmy, whose brain short-circuits the first time he sees you in anything other than your lose white tee, black pants and blue apron. Logically, he knows your body has always been shaped that way, so why is heat crawling up his neck in the biting Chicago air?

Carmy, whose new favorite thing is watching you cook. Especially the recipes you know by heart, when every lovely movement your body makes is muscle memory. Seamless and smooth.

Carmy who appreciates the habit you have of cleaning your station as you cook. Those pale blue eyes locked in you as he exits his office, watching you dumping veggies in a crock pot before scooping up the cutting board, knife, and any food waste and making short work of it.

Carmy who is personally offended by Richie watching you cook. Richie and his Richie-esque comments making him roll his eyes, or warning a scoff. “Makes you wanna know what other moves they can do, eh?” “Shut the fuck up, cousin.”

Carmy, whose habit of paying microscopically close attention to you has whispers from Marcus to Tina to Sydney to you. He appreciates the way you wave them off, using the new kid excuse.

Carmy, who’s been reduced to a stuttering mess when you confront him privately about it. He’s spilling out excuses, until you quietly ask him if he wants to grab coffee with you sometime.

Carmy who, the more and more he arrives to work either with you or with a dumb smile on his face, is getting endless teasing from Richie and Tina. Sydney quietly smiles at him, but mainly sticks to talking about the nature of y’all’s relationship with you.

Carmy, who admittedly fears anytime you let sitting with Tina, exchanging words that have her yelling curses or exclamations in Spanish.

Carmy, who has a retort ready for Richie when he asks you if that means he has a chance now, only to clamp his mouth shut when you wordlessly flip Richie off, bringing another soft look into Carmy’s eyes and a dumb grin on his lips.

Carmy who has to kiss every scar, every mark, every little thing in your body when given the chance. It’s a love language, remembering and worshipping every little thing about you.

Carmy who has his eyes on you so much, regulars at The Beef are silently questioning if there’s anything going on. (there is, but Carmy would sooner be Richie’s personal chef than admit it to customers.)

Carmy whose new greates comfort is you. Any fleeting fragment of you. Maybe you washed his clothes once and now they smell like you. Maybe you hugged him so much your scent lingers in his nose. Maybe he’s got a small piece of jewelry from you or reminiscent of you. Anything that has to do with you can bring him out of the deepest panic.

Carmy who swears up and down and to the ends of the Earth that he’s never gonna lose you. It’s not even an option anymore. He would actually just fall to pieces on the floor.

Carmy who shows the uglier parts of him slowly. You actually have to peel back the first layer and stare it directly in the face without fear before he shows you more. He’s just so scared.

Carmy who’s so so grateful you don’t try to fix him. You just leave him as he is, just giving extra love to those broken bits.

Carmy who used to hate love songs before you arrived.

Carmy who was losing faith in the very idea of love until you arrived.

#how many ts/lana del rey references can spot???#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto headcanons #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #headcanon #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear on hulu #sydney adamu #🖋️ — my writing #🪁 — requests #🔪 — the bear

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Mine*

Summary: Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has been a little neglectful of his most prized possession.

But he's found the perfect way to make it right.

Word Count: 3.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“So, what did he say?”

“What do you think he said? Gave me some bullshit excuse about not knowing the rule and tried to save his own ass.”

Harry tsks as he throws an arm over the back of the sofa. “Fucking pathetic. They’re all the same.”

“All of ’em,” Asher agrees with a nod. “But I had a couple of the guys tail him, and he led us straight back to the warehouse.”

“Good. Think it’s time we pay him a little visit,” Harry decides before his eyes trail over to where you still stand in the kitchen.

You usually try to keep your distance when Harry’s in one of his meetings. And perhaps this isn’t exactly an official meeting per se, seeing as it’s taking place in your living room. But nevertheless, you’re hesitant to interfere.

Besides, you’re more than content to just watch when he’s in his element like this. Like to watch the way his expression will grow dark, and his voice will take on a certain edge. The way he’ll speak about death as if recalling the weather. The way he’ll drop threats as if they were weightless.

He can be quite intimidating when he wants to be. Most of the men that work for him won’t even make eye-contact with him. And you’re almost certain a few of them have even pissed themselves on occasion.

Asher is about the only one who doesn’t flinch when Harry enters a room. Perhaps that’s the result of their lifelong friendship, or perhaps it’s because he knows he’s Harry’s right-hand man.

Either way, Asher is the only man on the team that Harry truly trusts. Which is probably why he was invited to your home this evening.

Of course, Harry claimed he merely wanted to relax and catch-up. But you knew better.

The only way to get Harry Styles to actually unwind and relax is by fucking him.

You fidget by the fridge as you’re forced under his cool stare, a tad apprehensive about why you’ve garnered his attention. You hope you haven’t disturbed their conversation, although you do wish he’d wrap it up.

He’s hardly been home the past couple of weeks. You understand why, of course. A threat was made to the company that Harry needed to eliminate. And you’d never stand in the way of his work.

But…you miss him. Miss getting to be near him. And maybe you wouldn’t as much if he actually allowed you to visit him at his office. But he declared it was too unsafe. He doesn’t like when other men look at you. Doesn’t appreciate when the people that he pays get the nerve to gawk at what’s his.

Although, truthfully, you think it’s rather cute how overprotective he gets.

Harry smirks as he motions you forward, seemingly amused. “Come here, sugar. You’re too far.”

Relieved to know he’s not upset, you let out a deep breath and obey his command, feet padding across the hardwood floor to bring you closer to where they reside.

You smile a shy greeting at Asher, who offers an entertained grin of his own before Harry is looping his outstretched arm around your waist and placing you on his lap.

“There,” he declares as his chin slips over your shoulder. “S’much better, isn’t it?”

You nod, face warming and hands gathering in front of you.

You’re not sure why you’ve gone so quiet. So still. Something feels…off. Incomplete, in a sense.

Sure, the warmth of his body is doing wonders for this…lost feeling in your head, but it still doesn’t feel like it's…enough.

However, Harry can read you like a book. Knows what each nervous habit and tic means. Knows when you’re feeling anxious, nervous, shy.

Submissive.

And he knows exactly how to fix it.

“Was just telling Asher here about sending our good friend Sean a little message,” Harry murmurs, subtly pulling you back into his chest. “M’getting so fucking tired of playing all these games. Tired of being kept…from what’s most important.”

His fingers begin to tap against your thigh, maybe in an attempt to call your attention to him, but either way…it makes your thighs squeeze a bit closer together.

You feel him smile into your neck. “Are you tired, too, mama?” he hums, in that low tone of voice he knows makes you weak. “Tired of waiting for me? Tired of needing me to make it better?”

Despite yourself, your lashes flutter as you sink even further into his hold. Needing to be encompassed by him. Cocooned by his smell, and his touch, and his intentions.

You’re vaguely aware of the way he’s begun toying with your dress, gently guiding the fabric further up your legs. Giving you enough time to realize. To stop him if that’s what you want.

And maybe you should want to stop him. Should be more concerned about poor Asher, forced to watch from his chair a few feet away. But right now…right now it feels necessary. Like if you stop him…you’ll die.

“So unfair. Being kept from you,” Harry whispers, pressing his lips to the skin just below your ear. “So fucking unfair…knowing that you’re waiting here for me. Like a good girl. Laid out in our bed…needing me to take care of you.”

The cool air feels sinful against your bare thighs, but you welcome it. Welcome the chill that travels down your spine as your cunt grows a bit needier.

Despite yourself, you begin to squirm over his lap, rather desperate for some friction. For him.

And he chuckles darkly at your attempt, the one arm on your hip tightening ever-so-slightly to prevent a second effort. “And I haven’t been, have I? Haven’t been taking care of you the way you need. The way you deserve. Huh, sugar?”

You’re quick to shake your head, longing to appease him. Make him happy. Give him whatever he wants. An answer, your body, your time.

He has it. It’s his.

His hands find their way to your underwear. He’s gentle. Tame. Innocently grazing his finger over the front of your soaked panties as he hums with contentment.

“Oh, my poor little girl,” he coos, nuzzling his nose into your cheek. “Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? Bet you feel so fucking empty…don’t you, mama?”

Another quick nod, your eyes growing heavy as you rest back against his shoulder, breaths quick and light.

He adds a bit more pressure. Enough to make you choke on a whimper as you steel yourself against his chest. You grasp onto his wrist, maybe in an attempt to warn him, or maybe in an attempt to just…touch him. Be a part of it. But either way, you don’t let go.

“What?” he asks gently, dancing a few innocent kisses down the curve of your neck. “What, sugar? What do you need?”

And you want to tell him. You do. But…you can’t speak. You couldn’t really speak before, either, but now…now it’s impossible.

Instead, you sigh. You sigh and you squeeze his arm and you hope that he understands.

Which he does.

He always understands you.

“Come on, honey. Tell me,” he pushes, the determined strokes growing a bit more powerful. “Need me to make it better?”

You swallow thickly, a soft whine melting from between your lips as you slowly grind into his hand.

But that small voice inside your head reminding you that you aren’t capable of making a coherent decision pipes up.

Harry doesn’t share. He never has, he never will. You don’t imagine he’d appreciate Asher bearing witness to such a sight, and you have to wonder if Harry even remembers the poor man is even still in the room.

Your head rolls, eyes finding Asher’s figure, still seated in his chair. You’re hoping to call attention to him, so Harry is forced to recall his presence.

And it works, Harry looking over as well while Asher murmurs, “Hi, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks heat up as you nestle further back into Harry’s chest.

However, instead of growing annoyed, Harry simply smiles. “Oh, sweet girl. Are you worried about him?”

You nod once, looking back up at your rather cocky boyfriend.

In return, he tsks soothingly, hand coming up to brush down your cheek. “You don’t have to worry about Asher, mama. He doesn’t mind. Does he?”

“Not at all,” Asher replies calmly, almost as if unaffected by the scandalous act before him. “What the boss man wants…the boss man gets.”

And for some reason, knowing the handsome second in command is watching you makes your mind grow that much fuzzier. As if fully surrendering to that floating feeling trying to trap you.

Once Harry sees that you’ve fully succumbed to your subspace, he hums again, and presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay, sugar. M’gonna take care of you. I’ve got you, all right?”

You don’t have the strength to nod, instead making a rather needy noise as you tug on his arm and turn to bury your face in his neck.

Another chuckle emits from his chest, reverberating across your back as he readjusts in his seat to get started.

First, he takes hold of the pathetic excuse for underwear you slipped on and begins dragging them down your thighs. Then, after eagerly flicking them free from your ankles, he tosses them toward his partner. “Hold these for me, yeah?”

Asher catches them midair, nodding his understanding as you suck in a sharp breath.

And you can’t help but squirm, now growing hot under the realization of your nakedness to the room.

But you appreciate the way both men attempt to make you feel safe. Asher doesn’t stare, instead relaxing in his seat as if this were an everyday occurrence for him. Patiently waiting for Harry’s next instruction. Obediently waiting for him to do what he needs to do.

And Harry does what he always does. He takes care of you. Whispers things in your ear like, “Shh. That’s it, there’s my sweet girl. I’ve got you, honey. Just gonna have a little taste, yeah?”

It’s an out-of-body experience. It’s like you’re here…but you’re not. You know he’s touching you but that’s all you know. It’s all you want.

He takes your legs in each hand before pulling you further open, resting your thighs on the outsides of his.

You’re good and truly spread now, allowing even more of the cool air to travel its way to your aching cunt.

And you shiver when you feel it, lashes falling shut as you take a deep breath in. Harry’s familiar cologne calming your nerves almost instantly.

“There you go,” he praises gently, smoothing his palms along your skin. “That’s it. Just relax for me, okay? Relax…”

So you do. You release each inhibition and just…let him. Let him do whatever, take whatever, have whatever he wants.

When his fingers return to your pussy, it’s like magic. Exactly what had been missing, and you jolt at the faint but welcome contact.

He teases you for a moment, dragging his touch up and down, through and over. Never in. Never hard.

Never enough.

And you whimper every time he leaves your swollen clit, wishing more than anything that he would merely give you what he knows you need.

Maybe he’s trying to show off for Asher. Or maybe he just likes having an audience and wants to prolong the experience.

Either way, it almost kills you.

“Please,” you breathe, once again attempting to thrust up into his hand before pouting when he pulls away.

“Please?” he repeats, grip constricting around you. “Please what, hm? What do you need, sweet girl?”

Another displeased huff as you scratch your nails down his tattooed skin, pressing deep into the ink as if hoping to see it bleed.

The fucker has the nerve to laugh. “S’not an answer, is it, mama?”

You’re growing impatient, half a mind to shove his hand away and do it yourself. Which you don’t think he’d mind.

No, he doesn’t like when you touch yourself. But that’s only if you don’t ask permission. As long as you ask him first and allow him to either see it or hear it…he doesn’t mind.

“Touch me,” you whisper, so faintly, you’re almost sure he didn’t hear.

And you’re proven correct when he dips down and murmurs, “Again.”

“Touch me,” you repeat, a little bit louder, but still airy. “Please, Har…please touch me.”

Another tsk. A deliberating noise as if debating whether or not to agree. “I don’t know. S’kind of in the middle of something. Maybe I should finish my meeting first, hm? Think you can sit here and wait for me?”

And you groan. Because no. No, you can’t possibly wait. Not anymore than you already have, and he’s so cruel. So fucking cruel to do this to you.

“You can,” he decides, ignoring your outraged plea. “You can be good for me. Know you can, sugar. Come on.”

With that, he leans back against the couch, and turns to Asher, diving once again into their previous discussion.

And you assume that part of Harry’s little game will involve him taking his hand away from you. To actually make you wait until he’s decided it’s your turn.

But you’re more than surprised when he continues his light, feathery touches across your cunt. Playing with your folds and your clit almost mindlessly.

“Should I send the guys down tomorrow?” Asher asks, fighting a smirk as Harry mulls this over.

“Not yet,” he decides. “No. No, I think we need to make him sweat it out a bit. He knows we’re coming. Let the fucker spin.”

“I’ll have Blake watch him,” Asher replies. “Make sure he doesn’t skip town.”

“Good.”

“You wanna bring him in for questioning?”

Another pause as Harry trails his finger down, teasing your hole before pulling back. “Not yet. Think we need to remind him what happens…when he lies.”

And just as this decision is made, Harry finally concedes to your needs and pushes himself in. All the way to the knuckle as you gasp and writhe over his lap.

It’s not at all subtle, and you’re almost humiliated by how unpoised you’ve become. But you can’t help it. Can’t help any of it. Not the sounds you’re making, not the noises coming from the gentle thrusts of his finger in and out of your pussy.

It’s echoing across the room like music from the record player.

But neither of the men pay it any mind, instead carrying on in conversation as if you’re not even here. As if you’re not dripping down Harry’s hand, soaking his nice trousers.

“You think he’ll lead us to Matthews?” Asher asks next, resting one arm over the back of his chair.

“Maybe. If we do it right,” Harry says, stroking your inner walls with devious intent. Looking for that one spot that unravels you faster than anything else. “But there are ways of making him. If we need to.”

Asher nods. “I’ll call Blake tomorrow. Arrange the trail.”

But you miss Harry’s reply beneath the sound of your own desperate whine, your chest now heaving under the stress of pleasure building within your stomach.

His thumb flicks across your clit before pressing into it, hard and with fervor. He maneuvers it in frantic circles as your pants grow louder.

You don’t know what to do. How to breathe. No idea how to remain relaxed when he’s doing this to you. When he’s so determined to make you cum in front of his guest.

“—wouldn’t matter then. He knows. They all fucking know,” Harry is saying to Asher before his lips are pressing back into your cheek. “And I’m not going out there if I don’t have to.”

“That’s fine. You know we’ve got it,” Asher responds. “Would you still like Alec on patrol?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admits before a second finger begins easing into you. “I don’t like the way he looks at her.”

Asher’s head tilts. “Was he looking at her?”

“He was fucking thinking about it,” Harry scoffs, the hand on your hip tightening. “And if I can’t be here with her, I need to know she’s safe.”

“I can send a few more guys over. Make sure there’s someone at each post.”

“No. I don’t want anyone else watching her but me,” Harry grunts. “Fucking bring her with me before I let someone else in.”

You sigh at this. You know he worries about your safety and care more than anything else. It’s why he’s gone so often. He wants to keep you hidden away in the apartment. Out of sight from his men, and his job, and his…well, enemies.

You understand it, you suppose.

Not that it makes it any easier.

The coil in your belly tightens as he brings his other set of fingers into play. Now, both hands are devoted to you. One making sure to fill you and stretch you just the way you need, while the other plays with your clit like you’re nothing but a toy.

“We can find a safe house in Seattle,” Asher offers. “A place to keep her if you need to bring her along.”

“Maybe,” Harry murmurs, his chest flush with your back as if trying to push himself through you. Consume you. “But if they know she’s there—”

“They won’t,” Asher interrupts, almost resolutely. “They’re not gonna fucking touch her. I promise.”

“No,” Harry agrees, growling the word in your ear as you clench around his fingers and gasp. “No. They’re not. Not gonna use her…to get to me. Not gonna fucking take…the only good thing I have. Not gonna take…what’s mine.”

The energy has turned dark. Angry. Now he’s not trying to tease. Now he’s trying to own you. Remind you who you are. Who you belong to.

The explosion of your orgasm is racing toward you, hurtling so fast, it makes your lungs ache.

He needs you to cum more than you need it. Needs to know that your body only bends for him. That your pleasure is his.

That you are his.

Even if you tell him every day. Even if he knows you’d never look at anybody else the way you look at him.

He needs to feel it. Needs to understand that he’s not gonna lose you the way he loses everything else.

And one of the ways he understands this…is by making you cum so many times that you don’t know anything else but him.

“Almost there, aren’t you?” you hear him whisper, his teeth finding your earlobe as he tugs.

“Yes,” you sigh, so pitifully wrecked that you can hardly speak. “Yes. Wanna cum for you. Please…”

“I know,” he hums. “I know, sweet girl. And you will. Gonna cum all over my fucking hand, yeah? Gonna let me taste how much you missed me?”

You give him nothing more than a zealous nod as you begin to squirm harder over his thighs, seeing that blissful end.

And when it happens, you just about start crying. It’s so…powerful. And you don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you’ve been feeling so needy today. Maybe it’s because of Asher being here. Maybe it’s because you can feel how angry Harry is.

But it doesn’t matter. It’s everything. So deliciously perfect that you almost don’t want him to stop.

He’s gentle as he rides you through. As he mutters his praises and leans you both back into the couch cushions. As he keeps you trapped between his arms and keeps his lips on your skin.

“There you go,” he coos, his praises like a symphony in your ear. Warming your body, your heart, your soul. “There she is. Fucking squeezing me, honey. Feels so good, you know that? Fucking missed it. Missed the way you feel.”

You know he did. He tells you all the time how good your body is to him.

And you believe him.

When he delicately takes his hands away from you, you deflate. Whining some at the loss of contact and fullness, nearly praying for him to touch you again.

But he’s got something else in mind.

He brings the hand that was inside you up to your mouth, soaked fingers trailing across your bottom lip in a silent instruction to open wide.

So, you do. You take his large digits into your mouth, and you suck. You take everything on your tongue as you swirl it around him. As you swallow and let your eyes fall shut in blissful ecstasy.

And as you do, he brings his other hand up to his mouth. Doing exactly the same thing as you both sit there and taste.

And the sound of him cursing with content at the way you coat his tastebuds is fucking magical. Everything he does is magic to you.

You’ve never felt so happy.

No, you’re still not quite in your right mind, but you don’t even care. Don’t care how far away you feel because you know he’s here to bring you back when you’re ready.

“Good fucking girl,” he practically purrs, palm once again stroking down your cheek. “Did so good for me, mama. So fucking good. My perfect angel. Feel better now, honey? S’that what you needed?”

You smile. “It was certainly a start.”

Harry smiles a bit bigger now, laughing beneath his breath as he drops his hand back down to your aching pussy, cupping it firmly. “A start, huh?”

You nod, a catch in your throat as the intrigue starts to build once again.

Harry hums.

“Then I guess we better finish it.”

I know this isn't everybody's thing, but if you guys would be okay with me maybe doing a part two...I kind of love this Harry? 😭

Next Part:

~ Ours* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles mafia #harry styles smut #smut #mafia!harry #cw exhibitionism #blurb #concept

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dimicul · 29 days

Text

jealous smug ex bf ghost 🫡

this is not edited and i wrote this at 4am 😭

thinking about the silent smouldering confidence radiating off of ghost when he knows he’s better in every way compared to your new boyfriend.

he doesn’t understand you the same way. sure, maybe your relationship with him wasn’t the most perfect, but it’s gotta be better than this arsewipe you picked up from the streets. he just doesn’t get you; your little tics, what makes you smile, laugh, cry, snort — cum.

you see it in every subtle jerk of Ghost’s body, every glance he passes you. pure smugness when your new boy toy drops the weighted gun several times, snaps at you when you try to help him; you can’t even point it out or go berserk if Ghost breathes in your direction, because nobody else sees it - just you. he reckons that’s why you’re perfect for him. nah, he knows it.

you suppose it’s a curse of some sort - it’s not like your boyfriend is a complete dickhead, but he messes up once and you find yourself wondering if Ghost would have done the same. if he’d allow it all.

“You’re pointin’ south.”

Ghost rolls his shoulders back, head cocked to the side as he watches your boyfriend turn in LT’s direction, lips pressed in a thin line. You keep reminding him it’s the other fucking way, that he had to practice the day before, because he knew how important this was to you—

“Yeah, got it L.T.” He says through clenched teeth. Ghost says nothing, but the mask shifts a little and you want nothing more than to wipe the smirk off of his face.

It doesn’t help when he releases the trigger and misses.

“Just keep trying.” You urge your boyfriend through clenched teeth, offering a smile. Ghost watches it all, how quickly your mood plummeted, how you’re sparing him worried glances. he’s not gonna pity your sod of a boyfriend, but since you’re so worried, he’d consider it. well, he tries to, when that boyfriend of yours moves harshly out of your way and readjusts his pose. It’s humiliating and it doesn’t go by unnoticed.

“There you go,” Your boyfriend simmers to himself when the bullet pierces straight into the makeshift dummy opposite him.

“Good job.” You sigh out, weights rolling off of your shoulders.

“Didn’t need a compass either.” Ghost remarks, void of any emotion as he turns to saunter off.

Despite your mental efforts, you can’t deny the sex is… awful.

You feel terrible as you roll onto your side, a layer of sweat on your skin, looking all tossed up. You should feel… good, right? Yet it doesn’t. It wasn’t the same; no familiar ache between your legs, the immediate sleep after, the same large hands that knew every inch of your body.

“Fuck sake,” You shove your face into the small cushion next to you, voice muffled. Here you were, laying beside your boyfriend, thinking about how much you’d rather be sleeping on the cheap issue of Ghost’s mattress.

You were royally fucked up.

Everyone notices your bad mood the day after; you’re slamming doors, sighing irritably, cricking your neck to the side, knees jittery. Ghost drinks it in, God he fucking revels it. Poor girl.

“Needed this, didn’t ya?” He’s rasping in your ear later that night, your head buried into the pillow deep somewhere in the barracks, ass up in the air for him. Ghost hisses, hips snapping against you. He can tell you needed this — course that pretty boy’s not been takin’ care of you, he doesn’t know you. Doesn’t care to.

“Fussy thing,” Ghost grunts, large hand moving to fist your hair, earning a whimper in response. You’re clawing at the sheets beneath you, breathless, unable to conjure up some lame jab because he’s so deep in you you swear you’re seeing stars.

“Greedy too. Yeah, you fuckin’ like that,” Thrust after thrust, you clench around him, taking him so well, because after all; you’re his. His girl. You moan into the pillow, earning a chuckle from the man as he stills, gloved hands on your hips. God, you know he’s making you late to training but you can’t seem to care.

“Doesn’t fuck you right, does he, love?”

“Si —” You’re panting, lolling against the pillow, jaw slack when large hands spread your legs wider, tattooed skin against soft flesh.

“You got a fussy little pussy,” He groans, base of his cock stilling again, right at that spot you love. “Need’a be fucked proper.”

#straight up smut #cod modern warfare #simon riley #jealous simon #angst #ex boyfriend #cod x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #blurb #waffling tbh #call of duty #toxic #soap #alejandro #🥲

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timetoeatthebread-blog · 6 months

Text

Heartsteel! Members suddenly have to take care of a child; Headcanons (Gender neutral and in an imaginary world where police is THAT useless. I like to think it isn't)

How they found you and how they reacted :

Kayn:

- He was literally minding his own business

- You ran up to him because of his pink eye and pink hair.

- Just straight up grabbing his left leg and not letting go, like a little menace.

- He tried to shake you off

- Almost fell face first into a wall while jumping around with his free leg.

- The little tic (You) had the grip of a true warrior.

- You bit him in his calf.

- Didn't hurt him that much. Instead it spooked him because he didn't expect a small child to have such sharp teeth. He hit his face on a pole on the sidewalk.

- What are you, a vampire? You little menace.

- You didn't know what menace meant, but vampire sounded cool. You pretended to be a vampire from this moment on, trying to bite him.

- At some point he finally got you off his leg and carried you under his arm like a bag.

- Wha- THE FU--

- Yes, you bit his arm

- Dude was so confused that he didn't even call the police

- Instead he took you home so Yone can take care of you.

Yone:

- Was grocery shopping, rolling his cart and checking the list if he needed anything

- Suddenly there was you, running around with a mini shopping cart.

- Totally proud of yourself. You were acting like an adult and you liked it (Because rolling the cart is fun).

- At some point you got lost from your family and then you saw Yone.

- It's not everyday you see someone in a zebra (in your child words. It wasn't a zebra print) shirt print.

- Like the young and cultured child you were, you asked if he saw your parents.

- The mom of the group tried to find your parents.

- Failed.

- The police wasn't really much help either. No one reported you missing.

- They (Police) were trying to take you but you cried so much because you didn't want to be separated from the gentle giant.

- One thing led to another and the police have his number and they will call him if they have any information.

- Brought you a pair of clothes so you have a change of clothes for later.

- Everyone was surprised when Yone didn't return with groceries and instead with a child.

K'sante:

- Was walking out of the gym and through a park

- Instantly noticed that you were alone on the playground.

- Checks for anyone in the vicinity of the park.

- The nearest residential area was a long way from the park.

- Walks up to you, crouches and greets you.

- Another gentle giant. But more energetic.

- Your sibling left you here as a prank to scare you.

- Parents gone on a trip.

- Cue inner anger at your sibling.

- Takes you to an ice cream shop. Buys you your favorite. With extra whipped cream/fruit.

- Contemplates his next options.

- Decides to take you home since it was getting dark, left his number at the police station and let them know the situation.

- Let's Yone know. Yone buys you a few things.

- Shows you his big armadillo plushie.

- The rest doesn't know that you are there yet (minis Yone)

Aphelios:

- Yes, he was in a store.

- Yes, they sold plushies.

- Yes, he bought a plushie gun and he was buying ammo.

- It's all for a prank I swear.

- You were hiding under one of the tables.

- Initially didn't care for you. Was sure your parents were nearby.

- They were not.

- Walks with you hand in hand, slow peace isn't a problem for him

- Thinks how you follow after him with your steps is cute.

- Calls his sister for help. She is completely serious and comes to you guys.

- She falls instantly in love with how cute and precious, scoops you up in her arms and carries you around.

- Aphelios kinda regrets not picking you up sooner.

- They go to the police station and they do nothing.

- Time to let Yone know what was happening...

- Since you were cute and you made his sister happy, he was quite happy himself to join his sister to buy cute things for you.

Ezreal:

- Was buying himself boba in a mall.

- And a new phone charger.

- His last one got destroyed by a mistake by Aphelios' prank.

- Saw you in the cutest, silliest outfit.

- Dude loves cute things almost as much as Aphelios.

- But you were alone. Like sitting in the corner alone and looking at people.

- You noticed him.

- Big pant look cool.

- Cue you running up to him and asking all about his pants, not understanding why it had so many unnecessary accessories.

- He discovers you were left alone by your sibling (again).

- You've been in the mall since the early morning. It was almost evening now.

- Goes to the police. Police is useless.

- Carries you around on his shoulders. Your laugh is precious and so is your happiness.

- His (not biological) little sibling! His little angel!

- He swore to protect you until the end.

- Gave you his boba since you were thirsty.

- MMm boba balls. They pop. It's cool as frick.

Sett:

- Was totally practicing basketball

- Found you alone. No one around.

- You asked about his ears. Reminded you of a dog.

- You love dogs.

- So does he.

- Instant connection.

- Calls his Mama for help.

- She is far away now but tells him to get you something to drink and eat and then take you to the police.

- Does as told.

- Buys you something to drink.

- Buys you dino nuggets.

- You both love them.

- Hols your hand and walks with you.

- Gives up when his back eventually starts hurting from bending so much and walking so slowly.

- Police is useless.

- Comes home and notifies Yone so he can take care of it.

- Feeds you more dino nuggets and sugar, while Yone does all the work.

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yongislong · 1 year

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staring + dreamies.

genre: when you catch the dreamies staring at you hehe, fluff, suggestive but not rly pft

note: hiiiiii... how yall doinnnnn.... :D

mark... genuinely cant help it LMAOO he cant!! he just needs to look at you sometimes. brings him a lot of comfort. you have also gotten used to him spacing out and looking your way while you just sit on your phone or laptop. his hand finds itself onto you hair/head every once in a while. is so considerate so he would for sure fix your mascara, lipstick or pick off an eyelash if he "saw something on your pretty little face" hehe. used to get flustered when you caught him staring but has grown more confident and you've grown used to him needing a glimpse of your profile huehuehue

renjun... wants to memorize you!!!!! corny yes but dear god he has to have you down to memory! he knows he's never letting you go but it's inevitable for him to want to drink up your expressions, pores, spots and individual hairs. likes to watch you in your natural habitats. has always said that your concentration face is the cutest thing he's ever seen. all of these things come in especially handy when he can't sleep. he's drawn you a million times. he has sketchbooks soley dedicated to you and your face pfttt. when you catch him staring he just smiles really brightly! so cute.... does a cute little "hiiii" too AHHHHH

jeno... what a shy manly man omg... would get a kick out of watching you be cute and cooking or stuff. very domestic! likes looking at you because he really think you're the prettiest most gorgeous and lovely person on earth, effortlessly! is honestly just staring in awe. traces your nose bridge whenever you lay on chest. mutters "wow..." a thousand times under his breath. will end up missing big scenes in movies because of this HAHA, you think it's endearing but you're also like!!! jen please watch katniss literally destroy president snow lol i promise it's more interesting (he disagrees)

haechan... oh boy. he is so annoying about it oh my god lmfaooo. just does it to fluster you and sometimes he just can't help but look at you though. likes to pinch your arm to get your attention in order for you to look back at him HAHA, especially when he's doing it because he wants to give you a compliment, "well hello there pretty, come here often?" likes kissing your cheek (and neck) after they get dusted pink. pokes your cheeks when he staring too, just a big cheek guy imo!! peppers you in smooches, gets flustered when you catch him sometimes... especially if he's looking at you from across the room. sends you a smile

jaemin... oh my god he just loves your face its actually so sickening! like ugh!!! he loves watching your mouth move, v enticing lol. his hands subconsciously find their way to to your lower lip. his hands always land on your thighs as well lol. looooves to stare at you in the morning or when you're sleepy because your puffed out face is the best thing to him. whenever you catch him, he is so confident, especially when you question him about it, he's like "why can't i stare at my gorgeous partner... freak.... you can't just look like that and expect me not to be obsessed with you" so sassy... but is actually so genuine sometimes it almost makes you cry

chenle... GGAAAHHHHHH so cocky!!! but it hits different because he will stare you down so hard and will lean in super close and run his eyes all over your features but when you look his face breaks out into the cutest little whisker smile in the world, just for funzies, mumbles out an exasperated "...cute......" mostly does it to fuck with you but it's a win win for him tbh, but won't admit it. is always staring at you because he can, but also because he always wants to make sure you're safe esp in public. has mastered understanding your facial expressions and tics.

jisung... "nothin... you just looked cute." simp nation. is actually more confident than he lets on. you realize this when he leans down to cover what you're looking at after he's been staring and not realizing it. yknow what i mean? like he's so tall so if he's watching you make breakfast or something and he's been staring for a while, he would bend down to have his face within your line of vision. what a cutie lol. you always pull his cheek when you catch him staring and he has to pretend he doesn't like it all while he's smiling and giggling AHA. likes to stare at you because he has to remind himself that you're real and that he has you all to himself <3

oh ma goshh hiiiiii haha ummm im still getting used to writing blurbs and headcanons again so sorry! was watching hunger games while writing this so HAHA, enjoy! i missed you guys!

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honeymoonblues · 20 days

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Gossip & Giggles

Professor Remus Lupin x Professor!GN!Reader

Summary: You've gone away for the day, and Remus feels like everybody is acting strange. (Gender neutral reader)

Word count: 724

A/N: Fluffy little thing. Is implicated that the reader and Remus are in an established relationship. Please, let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.

“I give him 10 minutes at most.”

“I’d say at least until he walks through the door of the first class.”

“Have a little faith! I think he won’t go five minutes without noticing.”

A few professors were clustered in the entrance of the great hall, murmuring to each other. Remus thought that was a bit odd, but didn’t question it much, it was far too early, and his hunger was stronger than his curiosity at the moment.

When his coworkers felt his stare, they quieted down, which was even more curious. Were they talking about him? Lupin wondered. But the hot tea in his cup was much more enticing than whatever they might have going on.

His gaze was fixed at a random point of his table, his mind lost in the haze of the cold morning and the memory of you saying goodbye.

It was much, much earlier when your owl had woken up both of you by clawing at your bedroom window. It carried bad news for you. Thankfully, nothing tragic had happened, but the letter received demanded your immediate attention. That’s how, before the sun was out, you left the castle, not before hugging and kissing Remus goodbye, of course.

Breakfast passed without giving professor Lupin much time to raise his spirits, so he walked to his first class with his mind still elsewhere.

The students were lively, in total disregard of the early hour or the freezing weather, as expected from the second-years. When he called for their attention, however, they fell silent ridiculously fast and started to whisper to each other in a way that reminded Remus of the professors in the great hall this morning. The nervous tic in his eye started acting up, he sighed and tried to make his student’s concentrate on the class once again.

Overall, it was an all-right lesson, even outstanding considering Remus was fighting his neck pain, five hours of sleep, and the constant gossiping the students seemed to have going on through whispers and notes for the whole two hours.

Stretching and comforting himself, Lupin thought “the second years always have some drama to murmur about anyway”. But his next class with the fourth-years was somehow worse!

This particular group of hufflepuffs and ravenclaws was usually quiet, so much that he had to beg them to participate. But this morning, they seemed to not be able to hold their tongues, or keep their giggles at bay.

“What’s going on with you today!” Even Remus had to chuckle at the unusual circumstance.

In spite of that, he took advantage of the energy in the class, and used it to make an impromptu dueling class, which would have been impossible with these students any other day.

Sitting down for five minutes between lessons, he scratched his head, in an almost meditative state. Why was everyone acting strange? Is he missing something?

While making sure he had a matching pair of shoes, and had not magically changed his pants for a multi-coloured kilt somehow, the seventh-years entered his classroom.

The older the students, the more tired they usually are, so this class went along ordinarily. They did seem to be smiling more, and Remus thought he heard one of them call him ‘cute’, but what were the odds?

As the hours passed, Remus felt more worn out than other days, so every little bizarre experience in class or after it, he ended up attributing to his own tiredness-induced-paranoia.

To his heart’s content, you were back to the castle just in time for dinner. With all these odd happenings, he felt like you were gone a week rather than just a few hours, but here you were, finally.

The silly grin he had on his face when he saw you, rapidly faltered when he noticed how you giggled at the sight of him. Merlin, you too?

Blinking slowly, he felt your arms wrapping around him.

“Hello.” his voice was muffled against your shoulder. “I missed you.”

“I can tell, darling.” Moving away from him, you looked into his eyes and took his face delicately in your hands. “Is that why you decided to leave my lipstick mark on your cheek for today?”

Then, he laughed heartily in realization, while you wiped his face to get rid of the remnants of your morning goodbye kiss.

(i hope no one minded the concept of the reader wearing lipstick, considering it's a gender neutral reader, but i think makeup is pretty genderless! even us they/thems have to wear lipstick once in a while!)

#remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #gender neutral reader #oneshot #x reader #my writing

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liketolovexx · 24 days

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I want some drama and angst :( can you write a james x reader fic? They broke up and couple months later she find out shes pregnant? She went to tell james but then he told her he’s dating lily and thats why she didn’t tell him cause during their relationship she was always feeling insecure like she can never be lily and always felt like shes the second choice. Someone that he settles for? Then she move away?

James find out couple weeks later after she moves away that shes pregnant bcs of the potter tapestry. So he went to find her (i want him to work and grovel a bit lol)

Of course I can, lovely!! Thank u so much fir the request <3

Sorry that it isn’t the best, I’m really tired 🫶

Feel free to send in requests for me to get to though!!! Love you all

You’re pregnant? ~J.F.P

{In which you and James have broken up, and you haven’t told him you’re pregnant.}

It had been weeks since you and James had broken up, and it had left you pretty torn up. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were still in love with him. You were just as smitten as you were in the beginning, and he had, presumably, completely moved on. You hadn’t heard from him once since the breakup, and it had really ruined you.

With a little help from your friends, you eventually got back on your feet. You read, listened to music, watched movies. You were yourself again. However, your heart was still tender, and James still unknowingly held ownership over it. Things went okay, as of late. Thing we’re looking up. Until you started throwing up in the early morning, and were overcome with dizzying fatigue. When you missed your period, again, you started to worry. You decided to overcome the embarrassment of buying a test and get one from the corner shop.

That was probably the worst night of your life. Impatiently, you stared unblinkingly at the pregnancy test that lay on the table before you. When the unholy little pink cross faded into view, your heart dropped. You hadn’t had sex with anyone, not since James. Which only meant one thing. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. Falling forward onto the table, You crept a hand up to your chest, grasping at it as choked sobs started to tear through your throat. Everything was numb, but so excruciating at the same time. Your arms wrapped around your stomach loosely, shakily. The scar of James’s old love for you engraved in your body. He could love you and decide to take it back whenever he saw fit, pretend you two never happened, but you now had the solid evidence of your love in your womb. And you had no doubt the child would look unfairly like its father. And its father had to know he was just that. A father.

The next day, face red and blotchy from crying nearly all night, you dressed in the nicest clothes you could find without being too formal, and made for your ex-lover’s house. The address you’d memorised. Cruel nostalgia threatened to kill you as you took in the painfully familiar path to the painfully familiar door. When you knocked, the door opened to reveal an agonisingly familiar man. James. His face twitched in confusion. You knew his little tics and giveaways like the back of your hand: you had all of his features and quirks tattooed into your heart. His smooth voice saying your name ripped you out of your thoughts. “What are you doing here?” He asked you, and you smiled weakly. You looked at your feet. “James, I’m sorry, I’m-“ “Jamie? Who is it?” Another voice called. A honey-sweet, beautiful voice. Lily.

Freckled arms wrapped around James’s waist. Silky red hair cascaded down his shoulder when Lily placed her head on his shoulder. His face shifted in awkward shock, as he went rigid under her touch. “Lily, Uhm.. it’s…” he mumbled, nodding his head towards you. It felt like your heart had been ruthlessly ripped from your already sore chest. You were expressionless, unable to breathe and unable to deal with the agonising aching pain that throbbed unbearably inside of you. Oh, god. You felt like you were going to throw up. You nod stiffly, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Lily.” Lily looks almost guilty, but doesn’t remove her soft arms from around James’s middle. She addressed you back, gentler than you did.

“What did you wanna say?” James asked quietly, face flushed slightly. “No. Nothing.” You murmur, turning on your heel. You needed to go home. You felt like you were about to black out. Is this what it felt like to have your heart shatter like glass in your chest, shredding up everything else? You wanted it to stop. You heard him shout your name after you, but the world around you felt muffled, and far away. It should be you with your arms around his waist, not the girl he told you not to worry about when you were dating. It should be you fixing his glasses, playing with his hair, raising his child with him. You’d always been insecure about Lily. She was beautiful. Flaming red hair, mossy green eyes, soft curves and plump lips, a kind aura and glowing smile. You knew you couldn’t compete with her. In your eyes, James would always love Lily, and you were a second choice. He couldn’t have Lily, so he settled for you. Tears had begun to drip down your cheeks, but the feeling was all too regular now, and you felt too empty to care.

James had sat on the sofa with Lily after he’d closed the door. He rested his head in his hands, visibly raging. “What the fuck was that?” He almost spat, glaring at her through his eyebrows. He’d never display this anger to you. “Sorry, James, but you were the one who broke up with her. And she deserves-“ “stop it!” James interrupted, his voice trembling. “I know! I fucking know she deserves better! But…” His lip twitched, a sign he was furious. “We’re over, mate, you know that. And you’re my friend, so I don’t know why you’d do this to me. You fucking know I love her. You know, Lily.” He says, his steady tone cracking at the end as he buries his head in his hands. He suppresses tears of his own. Lily moves over to him, trying to take him into a hug, which he accepts, always in need of physical touch while upset.

“Lily, I don’t know what to do.” She sighs, rubbing his back softly. “I won’t take back that she deserves better. Because she does. You broke up with her, James. But, I know you. And I know love when I see it.” Lily says, petting his hair. James was staring intently at the wall, frozen in place, not even sobbing anymore. “And if you really, really love her, you need to go to her, James, because-“ “Lily.”

Her eyebrows furrow, looking at James who’s still staring at the wall with wide, watery eyes. He looks fucking scarred, like a soldier in war. He looks devastated. Lily follows his gaze, and her eyes fall onto the potter tapestry which hangs pride of place above the fireplace. Her eyebrows twitch downwards as she leans forwards.

Between your full name in gorgeous italics and James’s in the same font, was another name. The name you’d planned to embellish your child with. Lily froze right beside James. She turned to him. Slowly.

“You need to go to her. Right fucking now, James.”

He turns to her, and slowly nods, wide eyes reminiscent of a terrified puppy.

You were curled up in your bed. You’d run out of tears a while ago, and so you lay there in silence. Not moving. Not sleeping. Not doing anything. You were numb and empty and so tired. You couldn’t find it in you to cry anymore. When there was a frantic rapping at your door, you couldn’t even drag yourself up to get it. Did it really matter? You felt like you were chained to the bed. You’d just rot there forever, you decided. until you heard a desperate voice screaming your name from outside. Immediately, you recognised it.

James.

Hesitantly, you crept down the stairs and clicked open the door. At the sight of how ruined you looked, James let out a pathetic whimper: his glasses were askew and his hair was messy, his face tear stained. He was beautiful even now. “What do you want, James?” You spoke blankly, not a single suggestion of emotion creasing your face. “I know you’re pregnant.” He admitted. Just when you were about to ask him ‘how?’ He dropped to his knees before you.

He was so pretty like this. James’s eyes were big and teary and betrayed what little sleep he’d been getting. His soft pink lip was wobbling like a baby’s, his glasses were seconds from falling from his nose, and his hands were clasped together as he knelt, looking up at you desperately.

“I- I’m in love with you. I need you, I fucking need you.”

He whimpered, shuffling closer to you and pressing his forehead to your legs. “Please take.. take me back.. I want to raise my baby with you.. you’re my only love, you always.. always have been…” he pleaded, his heart wrenching and his voice cracking like a teenage boy. He sounded downright pathetic.

You knelt beside him. “This time, Jamie.” You whispered, and he gasped in relief, collapsing into your arms. You let a weak smile embrace your features as you consoled him. “I love you too.” You confessed. “Only you. Only ever you.” He clung to you tighter. “I’m never leaving you again. I pinkie promise. My girl. Mine.” He promised, linking his pinkie with yours in a heart-wrenching act of childlike innocence. You were confident it would work this time. Now that you both knew how life felt without each other.

“Okay. Pinkie promise.” You replied.

#james potter scenario #james potter prompt #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fic #prongs x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #James potter💌*~

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redclercs · 8 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xiv. this feels like the calm before the storm.

— the one where the world is caving in.

warnings: cheesy pop culture references, aidan and victoria are back, more articles than usual. mentions of panic attacks, anxiety tics, spelling mistakes in the tweets that i am too lazy to correct, forgive me. 2.3k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

'Did Timothée Chalamet get y/n y/ln a role in 'Little Women'?'

By Bridget Thomas

As previously reported by various outlets, actress y/n y/ln has been cast as the youngest March sister for yet another remake of "Little Women", expected to be premiered by the end of next year. However, we can't help but wonder, how did y/n manage to get a role alongside actors of such high caliber, such as Meryl Streep and Best Actress Nominee Saoirse Ronan?

Despite the success of movies such as Supercut and The Hating Game, y/n's acting skills cannot even begin to compare to those of her co-stars, she's a romcom actress, and she's supposed to stay that way. But as Ringo Starr once sung: "I get by with a little help from my friends" and y/n is no exception.

Timothée Chalamet, Greta Gerwig's other main muse, has Hollywood eating out of the palm of his hand, and his influence goes a long way. So much so, that he was able to secure Amy's role for new friend (possibly new something else) y/n y/ln.

Right after they were seen mingling at a party in Paris with y/n's boyfriend (probably soon to be ex) Charles Leclerc, y/n got the call that they decided to give her the role.

Don't we all want a boyfriend who uses nepotism to our benefit?

Seriously, though, how does y/n manage to get this heartthrobs to spare a glance her way and do this stuff in her name? Somebody call the Winchester Brothers, we might have a witchcraft case right in front of our eyes.

Click here to go to the next article.

'Victoria Presley: I still miss my best friend, but all she did was use me.'

By Daniel Gomez

After staying away from social media and her job for a month and a half, beauty influencer Victoria Presley is back and she's not afraid of anything. Not even legal repercussions.

Back in July, Victoria received a 'Cease and Desist' letter from none other than former best friend y/n y/ln, demanding she stopped talking about her in public and to news outlets. This sparked the rumors that Presley had been selling her secrets to tabloids and was the one to reveal the engagement secret alongside actress Mia Kim, Aidan Kim's sister.

Victoria immediately removed herself from the narrative, deeply hurt by her ex-bestie's actions. Now, after gathering her thoughts and recovering from being stabbed in the back, she's giving us this exclusive interview.

"I can't help but miss y/n, she was my best friend for so long. But all she did was use me." Victoria is still in disbelief of y/n's actions, after giving her all her love and support. "I let her live in my house for months, and one day she leaves without any explanation. All to meet that Formula One guy."

Victoria has expressed her discontent with y/n's relationship with Charles Leclerc several times, arguing he is one of the main reasons y/n cut all ties with her and not the rumors that she revealed y/n's secrets to tabloids.

"He changed her for worse. Their relationship is so toxic, they breakup and get back together again and again, and they're just looking for ways to use the other's reputation for their benefit."

However, Victoria is certain the relationship won't last much longer, since y/n has her sight set on co-star Timothée Chalamet. "y/n has liked him for a while. When the rumors of his relationship with Kylie Jenner came out, she assured me she could steal him away with a flick of her hand."

Meanwhile, Victoria is focusing on her beauty line and its evergrowing sales. "I'm competing directly with Rare Beauty and Fenty. I'm in the big leagues, the way I deserve to be."

Click here to go to the next article.

'Aidan Kim reveals tracklist for "MIRRORS" and moves the release forward.'

By Paul Dean

Aidan Kim fans won't have to wait until October 5th anymore since their idol has decided to move the release date for his debut album forward by one month.

While we believe this decision was influenced by the news of ex-girlfriend y/n y/ln making her acting comeback in a high category movie, his fans also begged him to 'remind everyone of how awful y/n is' and judging by the titles of his upcoming tracks, we're sure he's leaving no crumbs.

Check out "MIRRORS" tracklist here:

In Your Pocket

All The Things I Hate About You

Him

Cry Me A River

Stabber

Stupid Love Letter

MIRRORS

Round and Round (Star-5 Reprise)

Yours and Mine (Star-5 Reprise)

Blinding Lights (The Weeknd Cover)

No Lie (With Mia Kim)

We can't wait for Aidan's insight on his relationship and breakup to y/n, we're certain the details are juicy! Don't forget to presave "MIRRORS" on Spotify and Apple Music!

Monza, Italy, September 3rd.

1...2...3... deep breath in, 4...5...6, breathe out.

You repeat the process five times until your heart has set in your chest and isn't trying to break free anymore. Until you've stopped squeezing your thighs with your palms and you can keep your eyes open without feeling like the red decoration is stabbing your eyeballs.

It's good that you can manage your anxiety before it turns into panic. You're still embarrassed about The Spain Incident, although neither Charles nor Carlos fault you for it at all. Still, every now and then, their panicked faces flashback in your mind and you feel sorry for them all over again.

You don't want this weekend to turn into The Monza Incident. Not when Charles' contract renewal was announced a few hours ago and he's on Pole Position, this weekend has to be perfect. Or as perfect as possible, for your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The weight of the word has multiplied by a thousand in your mind. Silly, when you really think about it. But palpable in a way that has butterflies flying around your stomach every time you think about the word and Charles' smiling face appears in your mind.

He's your boyfriend and you're his girlfriend, and this was a mutual agreement you reached with panic still holding you by the throat, only soothed by Charles' soft lips against your temple and his warm hands rubbing your skin.

You agreed to come to this Grand Prix because it will be the last one for you for a while. Filming for Little Women starts soon, and though they have a couple of races in the States, your schedule can be a little unpredictable. Also, you're hoping to score more roles soon.

You breathe again, deep enough that your lungs ache and lightheadedness threatens to rise through your body. You're overwhelming yourself, again.

According to the world, you’re not skilled enough to be in a movie with Saoirse and Timothée and should give up the role to someone who actually deserves it. Which you won’t do, of course. That someone who deserves it is yourself. It has taken a lot of pep talks in the bathroom mirror to brainwash yourself into believing it, but you’re getting there.

Plus, there are more things to worry about with Victoria back on her bullshit and Aidan's album coming out in two days. There are so many things to fix again, just when you thought you were getting there. Of course the two people that hate you most in the world have to mess with you again.

"Already here?" Carlos asks the second he crosses the door to the Suite. "It's way early."

"Good morning to you too," you let the air out of your already burning lungs and smile at Carlos. "I have nowhere else to be."

You could be at the Paddock Club, mingling with whatever celebrity or rich local is there. Or even visiting McLaren, since Lando offered to 'show you the garage', something Charles didn't like, of course. The secret of your newly earned girlfriend-boyfriend titles is one you try to keep close to your heart.

As if that has worked before.

A wave of anxiety runs down the back of your neck when you remember the tweet you saw this morning about a Deuxmoi tip on Charles and you. What could the exact price be, to reveal your relationship to the world?

"Have you had breakfast? Looks like you're going to throw up," Carlos says, sitting in the sofa opposite yours.

It's at least the fifth time he's told you that during the weekend. You know he does it out of a place of concern, but it still rubs you the wrong way. You also need to look perfect, not like you're going to throw up.

"I had breakfast back at the hotel, it's just the lighting."

"Sure?"

"I'm fine, Carlos. How are you?"

Carlos shrugs, he's not being the center of attention this weekend despite this being another home race for the team. "Good."

"Didn't you have to be at the meeting today?" you question, although it's obvious that by his getting there just now, he didn't.

"Had my PR reminders yesterday. Charles is different."

Of course. He has to know what he's allowed to say about his renewal and what he should not speak on at all.

Your own team advised you not to let yourself be seen at Monza. Mildred would have pulled you out of the plane if it had been up to her, and Walter would have helped her hold you hostage until the weekend was over.

They're both trying to find out about the Deuxmoi pictures too, although you doubt they can reach an agreement of any kind with whoever holds them to stop them from calling People Magazine up.

This whole avoiding being seen thing makes you feel wrong. As if you were doing something bad with Charles instead of just finally letting the love you've felt for him for months show. You hate it.

You're wrong to compare your current situation with your past ones. Aidan was your first really public romantic relationship, but before that, you didn't hide your partners either. Of course you weren't that famous, but even then, you didn't entertain the thought of scurrying around like criminals.

"He'll be fine, y/n," Carlos adds, looking at the way your foot keeps stomping the floor, like you're some kind of hyperactive bunny. "He's on Pole. You can pray for Max's downfall, though, maybe that'll help."

"I don't pray for people's downfall," you click your tongue, crossing your legs to stop the tic.

Karma and all that.

"Maybe you should." Carlos winks at you, and your conversation is finished as Charles leaves his meeting.

You can tell something's off just from the way his shoulders tense, but he smiles at you the moment your eyes meet.

"Everything okay?" you ask before he leans down to reach your height as you sit and pecks your lips.

"Yes, everything's good."

He's lying.

─────────

What was the point of coming to Monza if you're only watching the race through the screens?

You don't think the sun has touched your face at all since you got to the circuit, and you really want to be out there. But you stay put in your seat as the formation lap occurs right outside of the Suite.

It will make no difference, though, Charles is focused on the race, as he should be, rather than whether you're watching him through the TV.

Soon enough you know what will make a difference.

It's some kind of miracle that Charles has managed to regain the P1 position after the disastrous pit stop Ferrari put him through, and maybe Carlos was actually praying for Red Bull's downfall since Max has his very first DNF of the season and Checo can't get past George in P3.

Charles is going to win Monza again.

The decision making tree branches in front of you in a matter of seconds, people at the Suite are already talking excitedly and someone asks if you want to go down, there are four laps left.

You get up from your seat, aware that if life was anything like that videogame you played a couple times on the set of Parisian Valentine with your co-star, the "This action will have consequences" legend would appear on the screen right now.

You follow the Ferrari worker out, but even between the excitement and celebrations, you manage to hear what the PR Manager really thinks of your presence in the Paddock.

"She’s such a PR nightmare,"

She switches to Italian when your eyes fly to her face. And you can only wonder what cruel yet entirely accurate thing she said.

It's worse than a nightmare. It feels like the apocalypse all over again. And the weight of the world is back on your shoulders, feeling like you're messing up what was a weekend out of a dream for Charles.

You flashback to Monaco and the way Mati pulled you out of your head and locked your phone in her purse. You wish she was here more with each passing second. You cannot tear your eyes away from every single tweet speculating about your presence, about your relationship, about your intentions. It's overwhelming.

But Charles' happiness is what matters. He's absolutely ecstatic, even after the mishaps during the interviews where his PR training had to kick in and lead reporters back to Formula 1 related questions.

The thought that maybe you should have tried to make friends with more people occurs to you when you arrive at the celebration in the private club and Charles is dragged away from you. He tries his best to hold on to your hand, but the truth is people want to be with him and not you, so you let him take the spotlight he deserves and enjoy it.

"So, are you and Charles dating, then? Didn't you use to be engaged?"

You half-smile at the girl who just asked you the question, so boldly it takes you aback. But you guess her eyes are so bright from how much alcohol there is in her system, she's bound to be direct with liquid courage running through her veins. She's pretty in that dark hair, dark eyes way that has you momentarily doubting your own looks.

The extra heartbeat that takes you to reply, has her eyes shifting around the room before settling on Charles, who is finally walking back to your side.

Your boyfriend hands you a drink and smiles at the dark-haired girl and her friend, politely. "Are you having a good time?" the question is mostly directed towards you, but both girls jump at the chance of saying they're having the time of their lives and congratulating Charles for such an epic win. But they prompt you to join the conversation a few seconds later, so you're grateful for it either way.

There's a song in Spanish playing on the speakers and Charles is doing his best to sing the words while encouraging you to move to the beat with him. With his arms around you, things feel a little lighter, the whole in your chest that anxiety carved out is slowly filling with the love you feel for him, and the happiness of the day outshines the darkness of the thoughts in the back of your mind.

That is, at least, until the first notes of 'In Your Pocket' replace the previous song, after the DJ announces it's a special request. It's a remix, obviously, so people can dance to it, but a few of them have stopped moving altogether just to be a little less discreet about eyeing you.

"C'est pas amusant," you hear Charles say to one of his friends, who is hiding his mouth behind a tall glass of alcohol, his eyes still betray his enjoyement.

"It's fine," you squeeze Charles' arm, trying your best to smile although you're being put in the spotlight and there's nearly nothing worse than being the butt of a cruel joke. "It's just a song."

You wondered many times what those surrounding Charles thought of you. They didn't know you, after all. His brothers were nice to you when you saw them around the Paddock, and it wasn't like you'd hung around the rest of his friends. Did they mock him when tabloids called him a homewrecker? Or did they believe he'd just embarked on what seemed to be a dead-end relationship?

"I'm sorry, soleil, they're just— they're idiots," Charles adds, his hand reaching for yours. He looks genuinely upset and you can't help but hate whoever requested the song a little more for spoiling Charles' mood rather than for making fun of you.

"Charlie, it's okay, I've been through worse," your reassurance doesn't soothe him, so you squeeze his hand and he presses his lips to your temple. "I'd rather listen to Bad Bunny or something, though."

Charles laughs and pulls you out of the dancefloor, to a more private part of the club where you both can catch your breath and share a few kisses, unafraid of people staring at you.

New York, United States, September 7th.

You know you're in trouble when Mildred calls tells you that you need to be at her office ASAP. She also used that condescending 'I'm the adult' tone that send you back to when you were fifteen and got in trouble with your mother, so it's another indication that she's angry at you.

Of course you know why, the words 'PR nightmare' haven't left your brain in days. And the moment you set foot in New York, Mildred was all over you about every single thing that was being said about the Monza Incident—aka seeing your boyfriend like any normal person would.

"This isn't ideal," Mildred says after a while, she has been explaining the public's perception of you for the past half hour. "It's like you—"

"Like I fucked up?" you cut her off, squeezing your knees to stop from biting your nails.

"We were rebuilding your brand, y/n. People think you waited for things to die a little so you could go public with Charles. Aidan's new album is not helping your case."

If you thought 'In Your Pocket' was bad, nothing compared to the rest of the songs. Some in which he called you a list of things including a homie-hopper, drama starter and said you settled for a 'bum' when you could have had a 'rockstar'.

"How is that my fault?" you don't intend to sound so whiny, but you can't help it. Why are Aidan's actions always your fault somehow?

"People are talking more about how you are dating a Ferrari Driver after spending months saying you weren't, rather than the fact that you landed an incredibly important role."

"We haven't told anyone we're dating,"

Mildred rolls her eyes despite her best efforts to remain professional. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"What do you suggest we do?" you ask, knowing you won't like the answer.

─── team principal radio: ❝remember when I said it wouldn't take me one month to update delicate and then it took me longer than that? I'M SO SORRY LMAO. also not loving this chapter but i just want it out of my way for now i need it off my drafts, but don't worry this time i'll try for the next not to take me a century. thank you if you're still here, your patience means the world to me i love you all so muuuuch♡❞

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#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc series #formula 1 imagine #formula one au #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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system-of-avalon · 2 months

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(gn! pronouns for reader. student/teacher romance implied, but not official. satoru being sleepy. mostly fluff. angst if you squint. satoru being a lightweight with alcohol asfasdsa silly baby. satoru slowly falling for reader graahh)

Satoru knew from the moment he saw you how special you were.

Not because you were particularly strong, or had a super complicated technique, or had a particularly jarring past and circumstances that made you this way.

Many great minds have said that, to survive and to thrive in a world of sorcerers, you have to be selfish and self-centered.

It's like you entirely missed that memo, though.

You cared so much.

You cared so much Satoru even wondered how much you cared about yourself. You were always working hard, and protecting your teammates harder. You always wanted to be strong and show everyone they mattered. You lived everyday thinking on how to make this bleak world a tiny bit better, he guessed.

Satoru knew, from that moment on, that he had to have an eye on you constantly.

See, people don't give him credit for his people-reading skills. They think he is so full of himself, so used to seeing everyone from above, that he's uncapable of truly feeling attachment, or respect, or appreciation.

And sure, he is an ass sometimes. He enjoys, or straight up doesn't care, when he's being rude or annoying or disrespectful. Try as others might, that is a part of Satoru that would remain forever young.

But, in a month or so, he had you figured out. He had you figured out good.

Satoru had dealt with your type before, very closely after all.

He knew you little tics when you were lying. He knew how you looked when you were exhausted. He knew when you were putting your own health and well-being for later for the people you loved, he knew how you looked when you bottled your feelings too much. He was your teacher, after all, and he'd rather die than see the consequences of your own sadness spitting you on the face.

―You can tell me anything, you know?― Satoru spoke softly, reassuringly, in a deeper, more mature tone devoid of his usual mocking; though his usual teasing grin didn't disappear from his face. A hand ruffled your hair in fraternity before he stood up, stretching long legs with a quiet grunt. ―I'm your reliable, strong teacher Satoru Gojo, I can handle my favorite student's problems when they have one!―

He wasn't lying. Inadvertently, you had become his favorite.

If he went abroad, he would bring you the best souvenir out of all his students'. If he didn't bring the others any, he'd sneak some foreign sweets when you two were alone and share them with you, cackling as he made you promise not to tell anyone, "so his other students don't get jealous".

Speaking of being alone, that had, also, inadvertently become a thing.

Always the one to put effort until you couldn't physically fight anymore, you would approach Satoru with questions and seeking advice at least twice a week.

Also because of this, he had to be more present during your training and your missions to make sure you don't injure yourself from overworking.

―I want you to train, silly, but I don't want you to die on me while doing it!― He'd say, before sending you with a firm pat on the back to the showers, and to get a very well deserved rest in your bedroom.

He saw you grow. He saw you blossom into a capable, strong-willed, kind student. And sooner than later he found the stupidest reasons to be with you, just because he enjoyed your presence on its own.

When you went out to celebrate a successful mission, and Satoru offered to take you and the other students out to eat, he'd always sit beside you. He'd spend the night throwing jokes in your ear only you two would understand, talking about your shared interests and just having a good time in general.

Satoru was always one to enjoy the little pleasures in life, but when he was with you, he often forgot how easy it felt to just be himself.

Not the strongest man, not the Gojo clan's star child, not the future of sorcery. Just Satoru Gojo, and his silly love for Digimon and his extremely sensitive taste for alcohol.

―Oh c'mon~! I di'n't drink that much, f'real real...― Satoru rubbed the tip of his slender nose, which had become a slightly flushed, adorable baby pink from the wine he ordered at the restaurant. ―I'm a grown man, don't ya have more faith 'n me?―

He was scared. He was truly scared when he realized how comfortable he's grown around you.

Satoru was scared of loving anyone and anything because he couldn't stand to lose someone important to him again. But on top of that you were his student, for fuck's sake.

Sure he hadn't done anything inappropriate, or wanted to do anything inappropriate, but...

He couldn't deny how he'd melt when you laughed at his jokes a bit too hard. Or when you frowned and defended him, him, when someone bad-mouthed him.

You spoke nothing but praise about the man, as if you'd met him his entire life.

It seemed Satoru Gojo wasn't the only one with people-reading skills, and had spent quite some time looking into each other.

He remembers how one time, you failed to show up on time for your usual "extracurricular CE training sessions".

Satoru was exhausted from a few trips and missions and weeks of not sleeping more than a couple, sparse naps. Even he and his RCT had a limit, and despite not showing it, your teacher could get stressed out of his mind too.

He waited for you, for around ten minutes. Then decided to sit down for a bit, rest his legs and all that. Then, he crossed his arms over the desk. Then, lied his head down. Then, closed his eyes for a second.

Satoru was out cold before he himself could realize it.

Only to wake up with a blanket over his shoulders, a cup of mocha coffee still steaming, waiting for him; and you: Sitting on the back of the empty classroom, with the warm orange sunrays coming through the windows and lighting your silhouette in pretty colors, reading in silence.

And he remembers how you smiled as you looked up, and greeted him by saying his name in that sweet voice of yours, and just asked about his trip and scolded him for not giving you a call to say he was too tired for the lesson.

Satoru laughed it off then. But in reality, he was melting from the inside.

―Hah. I guess you're right. Though if you are going to take care of me this way, I might fall asleep in class more often,― the man laughed, peering at you from over his sunglasses with a tired smirk. ―Thank you for the coffee, by the way, angel~―

Satoru never felt comfortable sleeping around people. It was just that sort of habit that, despite knowing his CT will protect him even in his sleep, he couldn't break out of. Rarely did he shut his technique off these days since his teenager years.

You, as with many things, changed that for him.

Because you were such a sweetheart you couldn't trust him until you were sure he'd slept.

So when he was abroad, he'd call you before going to bed. If he didn't, you would assume he didn't plan to sleep, and you were allowed to call Satoru to chew his ear off until he did.

When he was at school, though, it was different.

He hated himself the first time you did it, but he hated himself more because he didn't do anything to stop you.

That one time you were lying down on the grass under the summer sun after a sparring session, and Satoru started to feel drowsy again.

You gently nudged him to lie his head on your lap, played with his hair, and God have mercy because he was a man gone.

―You're gonna get me in trouble―. Satoru's voice was no more than a quiet, raspy chuckle; something like the purr of a cat. He even kneaded the fabric of your blue uniform: Maybe to ground himself in the reality that this wasn't supposed to happen, maybe to force himself to like it less. ―Hmm... I didn't say stop, did I...?

He was so, so far gone...

🩷: My need to take care of Satoru just overwhelms me sometimes, my bbg I love him so bad sIR I LOVE HIM!!

🩷! EDIT: I'm most likely going to make this a series! Or at least put this all under one single plotline haha. Gotta think of an aesthetic name and probably an aesthetic of its own but I'll post about this dynamic often!

#with love - a 🩷#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #teacher x student #tw teacher x student #satoru gojo headcanons #satoru gojo hcs #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #a🩷 archive #long post

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physalian · 4 months

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Humanizing Your Characters (And Why You Should)

To humanize a character is not to contort an irredeemable villain into the warped funhouse mirror reflection of a hero in the last 30 seconds to gain “narrative subversion” points. To humanize is not to give said villain a tragic backstory that validates every bad choice they make in attempt to provide nuance where it does not deserve to be.

To humanize a character, villain or otherwise, is to make them flawed. Scuff them up, give them narrative birthmarks and scars and imperfections. Whether it’s your hero, their love interest, the comic relief, the mentor, the villain, the rival, these little narrative details serve to make all your literary babies better.

Why should you humanize your characters?

To do this means to write in details beyond those that service the plot, or the themes, or the motifs, morals, foreshadowing, or story. These might be (and usually are) entirely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. So, if I wrote lengthy diatribes on pacing and why every detail must matter, and character descriptions and thematic importance, why am I now suggesting go free-for-all on the fluff?

Just like real people have quirks and tics and beliefs and pet peeves that serve our no greater purpose, so should fictional people. Your average reader doesn’t have the foggiest idea what literary devices are beyond metaphor, simile foreshadowing, and anecdote, but they can tell when the author is using motif and theme and all the syntactical marvels because it reads that much richer, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

And, for shipping fodder, these tiny little details are what help your audience fall in love with the character. It doesn’t even have to be in a book – Taylor Swift (whether you like her or not) never fills her music with sexual innuendo or going clubbing. She tells stories filled with human details like dancing in the refrigerator light. People can simultaneously relate to these very specific and vivid experiences, and say “not that exactly, but man this reminds me of…” and that’s (part of) the reason her music is so popular.

What kinds of narratives need these details?

All of them. Visual media, audio, written, stage play. Now, to what degree and excess you apply these details depends on your tone, intended audience, and writing style. If your style of writing is introspection heavy, noir character drama, you might go pretty heavy on the character design.

But even if you’re writing a kids book with a scant few paragraphs of setting descriptors and internal narration, or you’re drawing a comic book – if you have characters you want people to care about, do this.

Animators, particularly, are very adept at humanizing non-human characters, because, unlike live acting, every single stroke of the pen is there with intent. They use their own reflections for facial references, record their own movements to draw a dance, and insert little bits of themselves into signature character poses so you know that *that* animator did this one.

How to humanize your characters.

I’m going to break this down into a couple sections: Costume/wardrobe, personality, beliefs/behavior/superstitions, haptics/proxemics/kinesics, and voice. They will all overlap and the sheer variety and possibilities are way too broad for me to capture every facet.

Costumes and Wardrobe

In the film Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where, after Boromir is slain by the Uruk-Hai, Aragorn takes Boromir’s Gondorian vambraces to wear in his honor, and in honor of their shared country. He wears them the rest of the trilogy. The editing pays no extra attention to them beyond a split second of Aragorn tightening the straps, it never lingers on them, never reminds you that they’re there, but they kept it in nonetheless. His actor also included a hunting bow that didn't exist in the book because he's a roamer, a ranger, and needs to be able to feed himself, along with a couple other survival tools.

Aragorn wears plenty of other symbolic bits of costume – the light of the Evenstar we see constantly from Arwen, the Lothlorien green cloaks shared by the entire Fellowship, his re-forged sword and eventual full Gondorian regalia, but all those are Epic Movie Moments that serve a thematic purpose.

Taking the vambraces is just a small, otherwise insignificant character moment, a choice made for no other reason than that’s what this character would do. That’s what makes him human, not an archetype.

When you’re writing these details and can’t rely on sneaking them into films, you have to work a little harder to remind your audience that they exist, but not too often. A detail shifts from “human” to “plot point” when it starts to serve a purpose to the themes and story.

Inconsequentiality might be how a character ties, or doesn’t tie their shoelaces, because they just can’t be bothered so they remain permanent knots and tripping hazards. It might be a throw-away line about how they refuse to wear shorts and strictly stick to long pants because they don’t like showing off their legs. It might be perpetually greasy hair from constantly running their fingers through it with stress, or self-soothing. A necklace they fidget with, or a ring, a belt they never bother to replace even though they should, a pair of lucky socks.

Resist the urge to make it more meaningful than “this is just how they are”. If I’m using the untied shoelaces example – in Spiderverse, this became a part of the story’s themes, motifs, and foreshadowing, and doesn’t count. Which isn’t bad! It’s just not what I’m talking about.

Personality

In How to Train Your Dragon, Toothless does not speak. All his personality comes from how he moves, the noises he makes, and the expressions on his face. There’s moments, like in the finale, when his prosthetic has burned off and Hiccup tells him to hold on for a little bit longer, and you can clearly see on his face that he’s deeply uncertain about his ability to do so. It’s almost off the screen, another blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. Or the beat of hesitation before he lets Hiccup touch him in the Forbidden Friendship scene. Or the irritated noise he makes when he’s impatiently waiting for Hiccup to stop chatting with his dad because they have a giant dragon to murder. Or when he slaps Hiccup with his ear fin for flying them into a rock spire.

None of those details *needed* to exist to endear you to his character or to serve the scenes they’re in. The scenes would carry on just fine without them. He’s a fictional dragon, yes, but these details make him real.

Other personality tics you could include might be a character who gets frustrated with tedious things very quickly and starts making little inteligible curses under their breath. Or how they giggle when they’re excited and start bouncing on their toes. Maybe they have a tic where they snap their fingers when they’re concentrating, trying to will an idea into existence. Or they stick their tongue out while they work and get embarrassed when another character calls them on it. They roll around in their sleep, steal blankets, drool, leave dishes in the sink or are neurotic with how things must be organized. They have one CD in their car, and actually use that CD player instead of the phone jack or Bluetooth. They sing in the shower, while they cook, or while they do homework, no matter how grating their voice.

They like the smell of new shoes or Sharpies. They hate the texture of suede or velvet or sticky residues. They never pick their socks up. They hate the overhead light in their room and use 50 lamps instead. They hate turning into oncoming traffic or don’t trust their backup camera. They collect Funko Pops and insist there’s always room for more.

And about a million others.

Beliefs, Behaviors, and Superstitions

*If you happen to be writing a story where superstitions have merit, maybe skip this one.* Usually, inevitably, these evolve into character centerpieces and I can’t actually think of one off the top of my head that doesn’t become this beyond the ones we all know. A few comedic examples do come to mind:

The Magic Conch in “Club Spongebob” and the sea-bear-proof dirt circle in “The Camping Episode”

Dean Winchester’s fear and panic-driven actions in “Yellow Fever” and “Sam, Interrupted”

The references to the trolls that steal left-foot socks in How to Train Your Dragon

I’m not a fan of wasting time writing a religious character doing their religious thing when Plot Is Happening, but smaller things are what I’m talking about. Like them wearing a cross/rosary and touching it when they’re nervous. Having a specific off-beat prayer, saying, or expression because they don’t believe in cursing.

The classic ones like black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, salt, sidewalk cracks can all be funny. Athletes have plenty, too, and some of them, particularly in baseball culture, are a bit ridiculous. Not washing socks or uniforms, having a team idol they donate Double Bubble to and also rub their toes. A specific workout routine, diet, team morale dance.

Other things, too. A character who’s afraid to go back downstairs once the lights are off, or fear the basement or the backyard shed. Or they’re really put-off by this old family photo for no reason other than how glassy their eyes look and it’s creepy. They like crystals, dreamcatchers, star signs, tarot, or they absolutely do not under any circumstances.

They believe in all the tried and true ways of predicting the weather like a grizzled old sailor. They believe in ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches, skinwalkers, doppelgangers, fairies. They talk to the cat statue in their kitchen and named it Fudge Pop. They whisper to the spirit that possessed the fridge so it stops making all that racket, and half the time, it works every time. They wear yellow for good luck or carry a rabbit’s foot. They’re not religious at all but still throw prayers out to whoever’s listening because, you know, just in case. They sit by their window sill and talk to the moon and the stars and pretend like they’re in a music video when they’re driving through the city in the rain.

Haptics, Proxemics, and Kinesics

These are, for all you non-communication and psych majors out there, touch and physical contact, how they move, and how they move around other people.

Behold, your shipping fodder.

Two shining examples of proxemics in action are the famous “close talker” episode of Seinfeld (of which every communication major has been subjected to) and Castiel’s not understanding of personal space (and human chronemic habits) in Supernatural.

These are how a character walks, if they’re flat-footed, clumsy, or tip-toers. If they make a racket or constantly spook the other characters. If they fidget or can’t sit still in a seat for five seconds, if they like to sit backwards or upside down. How they touch themselves, if they do a lot of self-soothing maneuvers (hugging themselves, rubbing their arms, touching their face, drawing their knees up, holding their neck, etc) or if they don’t do any self-soothing at all.

This is how they shake hands, if they dance while they cook or work. It’s how much space they let themselves take up, if they man-spread or keep their limbs in closer. How close they stand to others or how far. If they let themselves be touched at all, or if they always have their skin covered. If they always have their back to a wall, or are always making sure they know where the nearest exit is. If they make grand gestures when they talk and give directions. If they flinch from pats on the back or raised hands. If they lean away from loud voices or project their own. If they use their height to their advantage when arguing, puff their chest, square their shoulders, put their hands on their hips, or point fingers in accusation.

If they touch other characters as they pass by. If they’re huggers or victims of falling asleep on or near their comrades. If they must sleep facing the door, or with something solid behind them. If they can sleep in the middle of a party wholly uncaring. If they sleepwalk, sleeptalk, migrate across the bed to cuddle whoever’s nearest with no idea they’re doing it.

If they like to be held or like to hold others. If they hate being picked up and slung around or are touch-starved for it. If they like their space and stick to it or are more than happy to share.

Do they walk with grace, head held high and back straight? Or are they hunched over, head hung, watching their feet? Are they meanderers or speed-walkers? Do they cross their arms in front or lace their hands behind them? Do they bow to authority or meet that gaze head on?

I have heard that Prince Zuko, in Last Airbender, is usually drawn sleeping with his bad ear down when he doesn’t feel safe, like on his warship or anywhere in the Fire Nation, or on the road. He’s drawn on his other side once he joins the Gaang. In Dead Man’s Chest, just before Davy Jones drives the Flying Dutchman under the waves, two tentacles curl up and around the brim of his hat to keep it from blowing off in the water.

When they fight, do they attack first, or defend first? Do they touch other characters’ hair? Share makeup, share clothes? Touch their faces with boops or bonks or nuzzles and eskimo kisses? Do they crack their knuckles and necks and knees?

Do they stare in baffled curiosity at all the other characters wholly comfortable in each other's spaces because they can’t, won’t, or don’t see the point in all this nonsense? Do they say they’re happy on the outside, but are betrayed by their body language?

Voice

Whether or not to write an accent is entirely up to you. Books like Their Eyes Were Watching God writes dialogue in a vernacular specific to its characters. Westerners and southerners tend to be written with the southern drawl or dialect, ripe with stereotypical contractions. Be advised, however, that in attempt to write an accent to give your character depth, you could be instead turning off your audience who doesn’t have energy to decipher what they’re saying, or you went and wrote a racist stereotype.

Voice isn’t just accent and dialect, nor is it how it sounds, which falls more solidly under useful character descriptions. Voice for the sake of humanizing your characters concerns how they talk, how they convey their thoughts, and how they become distinct from other characters in dialogue and narration.

If you’re writing a narrative that hops heads and don’t want to include a big banner to indicate who’s talking at any given time, this is where voice matters. It is, I think, the least appreciated of all the possible traits to pay attention to.

First person narrators have the most flexibility here because the audience is zero degrees removed from their first-hand experiences. Their personality comes through sharply in how they describe things and what they pay attention to.

But it’s also in what similes and metaphors they use. I read a book that had an average (allegedly straight) male narrator going off and describing colors with types of flowers, some I had to look up because I just don’t know those off the top of my head. My immediate thought was either this character is a poorly written gay, or he’s a florist. Neither (allegedly), the writer was just being too specific.

Do they have crutch words they use? like, um, actually, so…, uh

Or repeat exclamations specific to them? yikes, yowzers, jeepers, jinkies, zoinks, balls, beans, d’oh!

Or idioms they’re fond of? Like a bat out of hell. Snowball’s chance.

Do they stutter when they’re nervous? Do they lose their train of thought and bounce around, losing other characters in the process? Do they have a non-Christian god they pray to and say something other than “thank God”? Are they from another country, culture, time period, realm, or planet with their own gods, beliefs, and idioms?

When they describe settings, how flowery is the language? Would this grizzled war hero use flowery language? How would he or she describe the color pink, versus a PTA mom? Do they use only a generic “blue, green, red” or do they really pay attention with “aquamarine, teal, emerald, viridian, vermillion, rose, ruby”?

How do this character’s hobbies affect how well they can describe dance moves, painting styles, car models, music genres?

This mostly matters when you’re head-hopping and the voice of the narrator serves to be more distinct, otherwise, what’s the point of head-hopping? Just use third-person omniscient.

If you really want to go wild, give a specific narrator unique syntax. Maybe one character is the ghost of Oscar Wild with never-ending run-on sentences. Just be sure to not go too overboard and compromise the integrity of your story.

In the book A Lesson Before Dying, a somewhat illiterate, underprivileged and undereducated minor has been given a mentor, a teacher, before they face the death penalty. At the end of the book, you read all of the letters they wrote to their teacher. There’s misspellings everywhere, almost no punctuation, and long, rambling sentences.

It’s heartbreaking. The subject matter is heavy and horrible, yes, but it’s the choice to write with such poor English that has a much bigger impact than perfect MLA format.

How to implement these details

Most of these, in the written medium, need only show up once or twice before your audience notices and wonders why they’re there. Most fall squarely under character design, which falls under exposition, and should follow all the exposition guidelines.

These details exist to be random and fluffy, but they can’t exist randomly within the narrative. If you want to have your character be superstitious, pick a relevant time to include that superstition.

Others, like ongoing speech habits or movements, still don’t overuse, especially if they’re unique. A character might like to sit backwards in a chair, but if you mention that they’re doing it every single time they sit down, your audience will wonder what’s so important and if the character is unwell.

And, of course, you can let these traits become thematically important, like a superstition being central to their personality or backstory or motivation. These all serve the same purpose of making your character feel like a real person instead of just a “character”.

Just think about tossing in a few random details every now and then and see what happens. One tiny sentence can take a background character and make them candidates for the eventual fandom’s fan favorite. Details like these turn your work from “This a story, and these are the characters who tell it” into “these are my characters, and this is their story.”

#writing advice #character design #writing tips #writing resources #exposition #writing tools #writing a book

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reidsaurora · 10 months

Note

Can you do height difference + "one more kiss? please?" with Hotch? Pretty pretty please with Mick Mars on top? <3 - V

hmmm i wonder who this could be 🤔😉

"Coffee + Kisses" ~ A. Hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader

summary: "mornings were made for coffee and kisses. at least, that was aaron's philosophy."

word count: 740

warnings: a single swear word, mentions of food, that's literally it

genre: tooth-rotting fluff, quite literally with all the sugar references in this blurb

extra notes: the aaron icon in the collage is by @ssa-sapphic (edited to fit theme better!) and the dividers below are by @firefly-graphics

masterlist | kissing prompts | ask box

mornings were made for coffee and kisses. at least, that was aaron's philosophy.

most people looked at the stoic figure that was aaron hotchner and assumed he was brash and hubristic, emotions on a completely different plane of existence from his physical form. but you? his trophy wife? no, you got to see every hidden layer underneath his apathetic walls, your own little personal slice of heaven.

so while most people assumed aaron's mornings were spent with his nose buried in the newspaper, black coffee in hand, they couldn't be further from the truth. this man was all homemade iced lattes, sugary cereals, and good morning kisses.

that last one may or may not be how you ended up here, nearly ten minutes late for work, coat and purse still hanging up by the door, one shoe on and the other nowhere to be seen.

"i have to get up," you'd told him. "unlike you, i unfortunately have to work on saturdays."

but when he gave you that look, that sweet pout that made even a grown man look innocent, you couldn't say no. one kiss turned into two turned into three, kisses turned into five minutes of snuggles, and now you were here, rushing around the house and tracking down your missing heel like a modern day cinderella.

"aaron, have you seen-"

as if on cue, the man—still sporting his pajamas and bedhead, his chin dark with a five-o'clock shadow—rounded the corner, missing heel in hand. "sammy apparently needed a snack," he chuckled, bending down and putting the shoe on for you. he stood back up to full height, somehow still towering over you, even with your extra three inches of artificial height.

"sammy needs a stern talking to for stealing his mama's shoes," you kidded, tossing your arms over his shoulders. even you wondered how aaron, the seemingly heartless man that he was, fell in love with the tiny ball of fluff that had apparently stolen your shoe.

"i'll definitely be in contact with him," he joked, pulling you up for a soft kiss. he tasted like cinnamon toast crunch, a strange juxtaposition from the manly smell of his deodorant, but not an unpleasant one. suddenly, you worried about what your own breath tasted like, making a mental note to eat a couple tic-tacs on the way to work just in case.

you forced yourself to pull away, being met with a disapproving pout from the man above you. to anyone else, his height might've made him seem intimidating, but you knew aaron was nothing but a gentle giant, akin to a teddy bear in human form. "i have to go," you reminded him, still not having unlinked your arms from around him.

"just one more kiss?" he said, his bottom lip jutting out like a child in a toy store. "please?"

and who were you to deny him, the absolute love of your life, just one more kiss? despite the logical part of your brain telling you not to give in, the absolutely smitten part of your brain won, practically telling the other part to go to hell.

you leaned up once again, your lips locking with his for one last, sweet, good morning kiss. his palms settled on your hips, holding you as close as possible, a gentle gesture in hopes of changing your mind about going to work that day. and little did he know, you were close, oh so close, to calling in sick. to making up a fake family emergency. to just saying, "sorry, i simply don't feel like it."

but in the end, you knew it was for the best to suck it up and go to work anyway. after all, the time spent apart only made the moments together that much more special, that much more worth it. "i have to go, love."

he gave you one last peck, releasing his hold from your hips. "fine, i'll just be here," he said, falling back on the couch dramatically, "longing for you, my dear."

you giggled at the sight of this grown man acting like a character in a shakespeare play. "you're so dramatic," you commented, heading for the door.

not having moved from where he lay after his performance, he shouted, "love you too!"

"love you more!" you called back, closing the door behind you swiftly. you shook your head, giggling. what were you going to do with him?

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @namorswhore @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @bbbbbbbbbbbbbbl @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahargrove @cwritesforfun @maelartasch @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing

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crushculture03 · 7 months

Text

Oh Baby!

Summary : You find out you’re pregnant while Vinnie is away for Paris fashion week.

Pairing : Vinnie hacker x fem!reader

Warnings : Pregnancy

Notes: Omg it’s my first request i’ve done that wasn’t for an existing imagine! and the first one i’ve done that’s not Matty!

Thank you to @Xoleemarie for requesting this!

You paced around your and vinnies shared bedroom, nervously watching the timer on your phone tic away slowly. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you thought at first it was just a stomach bug but once you missed your period you realized it was something more.

The timer on your phone went off, causing you to make your way back to the bathroom to look at the little plastic test you just took. With shaky hands, you flipped it over, your free hand covered your mouth in shock as you saw the word “Positive” displayed on the screen. It felt like your world had come to a harsh stop, you and vinnie were still so young, how would a baby fit into the mix of everything? Sure you both had discussed marriage and children but that was something you both planned to happen many years from now. To make the situation even crazier, you were home by yourself, beside Hera of course, Vinnie had been in Paris for about a day, getting ready to attend some of the shows there for fashion week. Normally you would have gone with him, but didn’t this time since you weren’t feeling well.

Before you could even think about what to do next, you phone went off, signallaling you were getting a facetime call ; when you looked at your phone screen you saw the familiar face of your boyfriend, knowing you had to tell him as soon as possible, you picked up.

“Hey babe!” he said, “Hey” you whisper out, you see vinnies smile drop as he hears your tone of voice. “Y/N what’s wrong?” he says, you look away from the camera, trying to hold back your tears, “Vin I- I’m pregnant” you mumble out, as you reluctantly turn to face the screen again. “What?” he whispers, trying to process the news you just gave him, “I found out today” you say, “Wow thats insane!” he says, as a wide grin spreads across his face. You feel a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders when you see hes not upset. “You’re not upset?” you ask, he shakes his head and laughs, “Of course not baby, a little surprised of course, but excited” he says, trying his best to reassure you from a continent away.

“I was scared to bother you since I know you’re busy with the shows and everything” you mumble, “You could never bother me baby. I’m gonna catch the next flight home ok? “ he says, you shake your head “Baby no these shows are important, we’ll be ok I promise” you say, knowing its the right thing to do. “I don’t care about the shows, my girlfriend literally told me the best news ever and I can’t be with her, no show is as important as you are” he says, “Vin..” you whisper, “Sorry baby I can’t be convinced about this; i’ll see you soon, I love you” he says, “Love you too” you say back, before he blows you a kiss and hangs up the phone.

You were awoken the next morning to the sound of a key being turned in the front door, you quickly hurry to see who it could be, and feel a wave of relief when you see your boyfriend. “Vinnie!” you say, running up to him and jumping into his arms ; he quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in tight. “Hey baby” he whispered as he gently placed you back on the ground, “I can’t believe you’re actually home” you say as a wide smile grows on your face. “Of course! Gotta take care of my babies” he responds and gently places his hand on your stomach, you smile at him and pull him down by his shirt so you can connect your lips to his.

“Now let’s get you to bed ok? You need to rest, i’ll make you something to eat and then call the doctor to make an appointment” he says, before carefully picking you up bridal style and walking you back to the bedroom. “Vinnie i’m ok I promise” you say, giggling as he places you on the bed, you thought it was cute how he was already acting like such a dad even though the baby wasn’t born yet.

“I don’t care baby, I told you I would take care of you so I am.You and the baby need to rest” he says, and quickly places a blanket over you. “You’re already such a dad already” you joke, “Well I have been a dad for 3 years already” he says, as he picks Hera up from the ground and gently pets her. “Ah yes our practice baby” you joke as you reach your arms out for the cat, vinnie carefully places her in your arms. Hera meows as she gets comfortable in your arms. “How cute all my babies in one place” he says, you giggle at his statement “You’re too much” you say, as you gently stroke the cat in your arms. “You knew that when you began to date me” he says back, causing you to giggle.

“I’ll be right back baby I’m going to go get you some stuff and call the doctor” Vinnie says before placing a kiss on your forehead and walking out the door. The smile never left your face as you began to realize that even though it was going to be a long difficult journey, atleast you would have him by your side to support you.

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagine

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