#AND i have to figure out who's saying what
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Azriel’s Girls
Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 2.6k | warnings: none
Summary: you overhear a conversation between Azriel and his brothers that has you second guessing your boyfriend’s faithfulness. What will you find when you follow him out one night?
Author’s note: two fics one day! This is crack lmao I wrote this in a blur this afternoon from a silly convo with @milswrites @prythianpages and @ninthcircleofprythian lmao
You and Feyre came into the River House giggling over the amount of paint that covered the both of you. The two of you stop laughing long enough to look at each other, before devolving into fits of giggles once more. One of the boys in the studio had insisted on today’s topic being finger painting, which led to the children essentially dipping their hands into paint before smearing it over all of your clothes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to shower here?” Her voice is soft and kind, a slight rasp to it from talking to the kids all afternoon.
“Thanks Fey, but I’d rather shower at home so I can slip into my pajamas and go to sleep.” You look away from her, as if you could see him through the walls. “Maybe I can even convince Azriel to rub my back. I shouldn't have given some piggy back rides.”
Feyre hums, a soft ‘told you so’ on her tongue, but you give her a pointed look and she keeps it to herself.
“Well, I’m going to go wash up. Good luck finding the boys.”
Her voice floats down the hallway she takes, and you start thinking about where to look - the most obvious place being Rhys’s study. Your feet pad through the halls until you start to hear three loud laughs coming from the cracked study door.
You keep moving towards the source, ready to make your presence known, when you hear Cassian say, “when will you see them again?”
Your boyfriend responds with a soft, “tonight”, eliciting raucous laughter from his brothers. You still, pressing yourself towards the wall, tilting your head in contemplation.
Azriel had told you he had plans tonight, that he was doing something important for Rhys. Had he lied to you?
Cassian’s voice cuts through your train of thoughts, “I’m sure the girls at Rosehall have been missing you.”
Rosehall?
You scrunch your eyebrows, trying to remember if you had ever heard of Rosehall. Was it somewhere in Velaris? Was it a pleasure hall? Who were these girls Cassian spoke of?
Had your sweet Azriel been sneaking around, and his brothers were aware of it? Had they been condoning it?
“I haven’t been able to see them in a while, they’ll be glad for the company.”
“I’m sure they’ll be crawling all over you, brother.”
Their laughs were knives in your heart. Did everyone know? Were you nothing more than a fool to them? Nothing more than a mere joke to these males? Your mind was racing, not paying any mind to the rest of the conversation as you ran down the hall into the kitchens, getting yourself a glass of water. You chugged it, the cool liquid giving your racing thoughts something else to focus on. Like a plan to figure out the truth.
After a few minutes of allowing yourself to seethe and panic, you retraced your steps towards Rhys’s study with your plan in tow: get to Rosehall, find out who these girls are, and yell and scream at Azriel and his brothers for playing you for a fool. As you approach, the males within were now speaking of some sporting event you were not the slightest bit interested in. Azriel’s face brightens as you knock and enter, pushing the door that was slightly ajar. You hate the way your heart picks up a bit at seeing him, at seeing how his face lights up at your presence, your cheeks heating at his attention.
He’s a lying, backstabbing, good for nothing-
“How was painting with Feyre?”
The attention from all three of them pulls you from your thought spiral and you choke on your own spit, coughing a bit. Azriel’s smile turns into a look of concern as he watches you, but Cassian chuckles. “Did you eat the paint by accident?”
Rhysand’s low tone chimes in, “I believe she’s wearing half the paint in Feyre’s studio, and I’m sure my mate’s wearing the other half.”
You chuckle, “uh yeah, Feyre was heading to shower when I left her.”
Rhys dips his head, “that's my cue to leave. BRothers, always a pleasure until better things come along. I’ll see you all later.”
Cassian laughs as Rhys disappears in front of you all, “horny bastard.”
Azriel glares at his brother, “and the pot calls the kettle black.”
Cassian scoffs, flicking his wrist in the air, “pish posh, Azriel. The past is the past.”
“Your past was last week when everytime I came back to the House of Wind for two weeks I got front row seats to your ass.”
“Well, it's our house. And I have a fantastic ass.”
Cassian flexes his thighs, as if Azriel just had to see it to mitigate his annoyance.
“I live there too.”
Cassian shrugs, as if this was a matter of opinion to just accept differences over.
Azriel looks back to you, his eyes making you feel warm, just as they always did. But the warmth was quickly devolving into a ball of anger and sadness, warming your stomach with jealousy and annoyance.
You slap a smile onto your face as you look towards Az, taking in his lazy grin as Cassian slaps him on the back. “I’m off to see Nes. You kids have fun!”
Cassian walks toward the balcony, taking to the skies. Azriel turns toward you, offering his hand so the two of you could embark as well. You accept his hand in yours, a little part of your mind telling you this is the last time you’ll do this. You laugh, pushing the thoughts to the side as you allow Azriel to pick you up, the two of you shooting up into the air.
Azriel flies you back to your apartment, his wings expertly moving over the streets of Velaris. You can’t help the smile on your face as you two fly through the air, watching the people below you until he lands right in front of your home.
You open the door for the both of you, and he follows closely behind. He chuckles at your paint covered clothes, and you fidget slightly, wanting him to make the move to leave.
The clock in your living room chimes, and his gaze moves towards it. “It’s getting late, I have to go. Will you be okay?”
You nod, your arms tightening around yourself. He takes your nervous energy as your hatred for sleeping alone, not wanting to upset you further by making you speak about it.
“How long will you be gone?”
He ponders for a moment, “I should be back tomorrow or the day after.”
He turns toward the door, but you shoot out your hand to grab his wrist. “Can I have one of your shadows? To keep me company? I like having them around.”
One shadow in particular dances at your words, coming from behind Azriel, practically spinning in the air as it immediately rushes to you.
“I hope you like that one because I don’t think it’ll let a different one stay with you.”
You giggle as it weaves through your hair, picking it up into a ponytail before dropping it.
“Perfect, so I’ll have someone to be witness to my antics.”
You giggle, but his face is solemn as he looks at you, something feeling so off about your behavior.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
His words are so soft, and every part of you wants to tell him no, I’m not okay, because you are seeing other women who will be crawling all over you once you leave from here.
Instead you nod, making up an excuse about your eyes being tired from all the painting. He kisses your forehead, his lips soft and light against your skin before pulling away and stepping out of your door before winnowing away.
You count your breath for a few beats before turning to the shadow, “do you know where Rosehall is?”
-
Of all of your terrible ideas over the years, this one was perhaps the worst. You had asked the shadow where Rosehall was, expecting it to be somewhere in Velaris, likely in the parts of the city you were less familiar with. You did not expect the black wisp to wrap around your wrist and begin tugging you away from Velaris very forcefully.
You had started getting nervous when it kept pulling you towards the outskirts, but you were in it now, and you were going to see this ridiculous scheme through to the end.
The shadow had been pulling you for hours it seemed, across landscapes, your feet killing you as you walked, and somewhere several miles away from Velaris, the shadow’s hold loosened on your wrist, opting to move up and down your arm, as if telling you this was your destination.
“Are you sure this is right?”
The shadow danced all around you as if it were confirming your statement. You looked at the gated entrance, the estate so lush and green and not at all what you had expected, it took you by surprise.
This was where he brought women? To do scandalous things and have nights full of debauchery? Was this some beautiful and well-tended pleasure hall? Before you can debate going through the gate, the shadow moves forward, unlatching it and pushing it open for you.
You sigh, thinking to yourself no going back now.
You enter through the gate, preparing yourself to hear the sounds of females giggling, perhaps even moaning, but you are completely taken aback at the chorus of meows you hear, followed by a door opening, and Azriel’s soft voice calling out, “if you’re here for my mother, she has stepped out-”
His voice stops as he takes in the sight of you, the two of you standing before each other across the lush estate. His eyes swim with confusion, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words or the situation before. He continues to look at you, before realizing he’s carrying a tray of various raw meats and fish. He takes no notice of the dozen or so cats circling him, several trying to climb up his legs toward the food he carries.
“You- what are- how did you get here?”
You lift up the shadow that was entwined with your arm before it skitters off to join the other shadows playing games with the cats who weren’t paying attention to Azriel. You try not to wear the confusion on your face, hoping desperately to have some upper hand here.
“Is this Rosehall?”
Azriel sighs, setting down the food as one of the cats lunges to bite at his arm, missing and falling back into the pool of cats at Azriel’s feet.
“Yes.”
You puff up your chest, confusion seeping through your features as you ask, “and where are the females? The girls?”
“The girls?” His voice is incredulous, and you want to roll your eyes at it.
“Yes, the girls. The ones who wish to climb all over you because you haven’t been paying them attention.”
His long legs start to make their way across the front garden, the sea of cats at his feet parting as he makes his way through them. “The girls who climb over me?”
You sigh, exasperation evident, “must you repeat my words? Yes, okay fine. I overheard Cassian speaking of your plans this evening with ‘your girls’. Now why don’t you bring them out and show me to be a fool?”
A deep, belly laugh comes from his mouth, and you are utterly offended.
“Azriel, I came here to put you through the ringer for stepping out on me, and you find it funny?”
He steps forward, trying to put his arms around you but you step away from his embrace. His laughing continues as he asks, “you walked all the way here?”
“Yes.”
You stick out your chin, determined to look strong and confident.
“You walked all the way from Velaris to here, to find out I had cats?”
“Why yes, I did walk all the way here to find out-”
Your words die on your tongue as you look around, not seeing any other females anywhere. You picked up the scent of one, but the scent smelled so much like Azriel, they had to be related in some way.
He watches your nose twitch, separating out all the smells beneath the ever present smell of cat.
“My mother lives here.”
He coughs, the joyous look from his laughter gone, his hands moving behind his back. He rocks on his feet, and you found it quite endearing.
“With my cats.”
“Your cats?”
“Yes, but they’re not really mine. They just show up.”
“Your cats show up? What does that mean?”
“It means, if I spend any time in Illyria the cats seek me out. I’ve already fixed the stray cat problem in Velaris.”
He opens his arms wide.
“They’re all here. Problem solved, I suppose.”
You blink, slightly convinced Rhys had finally broken your mind and made up the most ridiculous scenario he could imagine. You feel one of the cats rub against your legs, and you bend slightly to nuzzle its face. It was pitch black with bright green eyes. It was so little, you couldn’t help but pick it up despite its verbal protests.
“You have cats.”
“Yes, and Rhys and Cassian despise the cats. Rhys says he’s allergic, but I think he’s just too worried about his damn furniture.”
“And Cassian?”
“Cats hate Cassian.”
He says this as if it’s an uncontested fact.
“How can all cats hate one person?”
“He likes to swing them by their tails.”
You nod, “okay, maybe all cats can hate one person.”
As the two of you spoke the shadows had lifted a cat up onto Azriel’s shoulders, where it stood meowing and pawing at the black wisps. You watched in bewilderment, unsure if the shadows were playing pranks or not, when the cat slid from his shoulder into the crook of his elbow, nuzzling into the warmth there.
You cross your arms, heat blooming in your cheeks at your rash decision making. “So there aren’t beautiful females here?”
“There’s one.”
“I knew i- oh. You meant me.”
You deflate once more, letting the adrenaline seep from your body. You were exhausted, well and truly. He nodded before putting the cat down, watching it scamper off into the grass. “I shouldn’t have lied about where I was going. Several dozen cats are just… a lot to spring on someone at once.”
You look to the ground, fingers scratching the ears of the kitten you were holding, “and maybe I got a little…. carried away.”
He quirked an eyebrow, “you picked the wrong shoes to hike out here from Velaris.”
You looked down at your sneakers, chuckling, “uh yeah, I definitely need to soak my feet for a bit.”
“Do you want to come inside?” He watches you hesitantly before asking, “Or I could take you home?”
You look toward the beautiful estate before peering back down at the wiggling kitten in your arms, before deciding that you did want to see Azriel’s mother’s home and to hopefully meet her. “Are you going to tell your mother about how I got here?”
He chuckles, slow and soft, “of course I am. She’d be endlessly amused.”
“Do you have any black felt? I’d love to make this little guy some wings.”
He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he puts an arm around your shoulder, leading you inside. “While you play arts and crafts, I can formally introduce you to all of the other cats.”
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Thanks for reading ❣️
#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel#acotar writing#azriel fluff#azriel fanfic#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x y/n#azriel x female!reader
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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟcan't stop thinking about yuuta who overhears you confidently telling your little friends, "i don't fuck virgins," at a party. listens intently as you go on and on and on about how you hate how inexperienced they are, how they require so much hand holding and fussing over the whole ordeal. "i wanna fuck someone who can fuck me the way i need it."
you're unimpressed when you first spot him across the party, rolling your eyes in a way that should not send excitement thrumming up and down his skin, sharp eyes twinkling under the harsh neon lights.
knows he's been looking for way too long when you finally make your way over, joining him at his solitary spot on the couch, surrounded by various levels of debauchery. "you going to make a move or just stare at me all day, lover boy?"
"i—no! wait, i mean yes, i want to make a move, but i—you see," he's tumbling over his own words under your scrutinizing gaze, and god, this has to be the world's worst impression ever, he knows there's no way you could possibly want him⸺
your eyes narrow. "spit it out."
"i'm a virgin."
for a moment, you let your eyes drift over his entire figure. you hum, a disappointed, low sound that makes his heart drop to his stomach. "a shame. you're actually real cute up close."
yuuta slumps, as if basking in the fact that he's hopeless, and it's almost funny, but then you remember how intently he looked at you, with so much unfiltered desire and need.
"i don't do charity cases," his ears perk up. you know you've got him, hook, line, and sinker as he nods so eagerly, invested in what you've got to say next, and it's delicious. you grin. you're going to devour him whole. "say, what if we just took a practice run?"
when you give him a sloppy, rough handjob in a tiny little bathroom sequestered off upstairs, he cums, embarrassingly fast and oh-so-loud, forcing you to have to cover his mouth with a spare hand.
"keep it quiet," you hiss as his eyes roll back, rutting uselessly into the palm of your hand, whimpering when you keep milking him for all his worth even as he cums. "but that's it, there you go. so pretty for me, huh, lover boy?"
he nods uselessly, back bowing at all of the unexpected sensations, but keeps his eyes trained to the way you pull your hand back to sneak a taste of him, pink tongue swiping across the glistening pad of your fingertip. eagerly accepts your fingers in turn to taste himself and your saliva. he closes his eyes at the taste, moaning softly.
when he opens his eyes, you're shimmying out of that tiny little skirt he's been eyeing all night, a glimmer of something devilish in your eyes. "you ready to lose your virginity, yuuta?"
© ROSESAINTS ᐟ — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. requests are OPEN .ᐟ
#🎞️ writing — me when i write.#requests are open!#18+ mdni#okkotsu yuuta#yuuta okkotsu x reader#yuta okkotsu#yuta x reader#yuuta okkotsu smut#yuta okkotsu smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut
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roommates ; lando norris + part five
In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.
masterlist - playlist
lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!
The following day you’re not surprised by the way you’re feeling. After standing in the pouring rain yesterday it doesn’t surprise you that you’re feeling sick. After wearing your soaked dress for way too long, it only seems logical that you’re not feeling that well right now. It does however annoy you. You don’t feel like getting out of your bed. You’d rather stay in your bed for the rest of the day. However, Lando did already sent you multiple texts about grabbing breakfast together somewhere. After yesterday you don’t want to say no to him. So, with a big sigh you get out of your bed.
When you leave the comfort from your bed, the cold air is quick to hit you. It reminds you that you really don’t know how to dress yourself. Then you notice Lando his sweater laying on your floor. When you were shivering in the car next to him yesterday, he eventually pulled of his own sweater and gave it to you. Without giving it a second thought, you pick it up and put it on. You grab some pants from your closet and continue to get dressed. More effort then this isn’t in it today. You skip doing your make up and start to walk out of your room.
Lando is quick to give you a confused look when he sees you coming towards him. “Are you okay?” He asks you. In the mean time he can’t look somewhere else then at the sweater you’re wearing. It makes him feel all fuzzy on the inside that you’re wearing his sweater again.
“Good morning to you too,” you softly chuckle, “I’m feeling okay.”
“You don’t look okay,” Lando quickly replies.
“I’m okay,” you repeat your earlier words.
“You’re lying,” Lando states.
“Let’s go for breakfast?” You try to change the subject. Lando lets out a soft laugh. You notice how cute his laugh can be. Then he shakes his head at you. “Babygirl,” he softly says, “it’s pretty clear that you’re sick. We’re not going out like this.”
You wonder how Lando noticed in this short amount of time that you’re not feeling well. He barely saw you and already figured you out. Even Max isn’t this fast with seeing right through you. Lando keeps amazing you lately. Yesterday night was also one of those moments. When you came back at his place after the disaster with your ex, Lando made sure he took care of you for the rest of the evening. Together the two of you watched some movies, while Lando made sure you were feeling comfortable. Eventually you ended up falling asleep on him, only for him to wake you up and bring you to your own bed. He keeps confusing you.
“But you wanted to get breakfast,” you reply to Lando.
“And now I want you to feel better,” Lando is quick to reply.
“Why?” You ask surprised. Lando confuses you again with his words. It’s not that it’s bad for him that you’re sick, right? Or is he afraid that you will infect him as well? Maybe it’s about that. Then you should get back to your room you guess.
“Because you need to join me to the race this weekend,” Lando states.
“I need to join you?” You ask surprised.
“Yes,” Lando replies. He’s not making things more clear. Why does he want you to join him? You want to ask him that question and a lot of other questions, but Lando is already talking again. “What about pancakes for breakfast?” He asks you.
You laugh about the way he changes the subject, but you do accept the pancakes. “One condition,” you quickly tell him, “You’ll let me help.”
“No, no,” Lando replies, “I’ll make the pancakes, go sit down babygirl.”
You feel your heart flutter at the nickname. It reminds you about yesterday. Maybe your ex was right. It only feels right when Lando is the one who calls you babygirl. That can’t be good.
“No offense Lan, but you can’t even cut up some onions. It seems a bit more safe for me to help you.”
Lando chuckles and makes room for you to join him at the counter.
+++
The rest of that day, Lando makes sure you’re close to him. It’s surprisingly sweet how close he keeps you to himself. He hasn’t left you alone once today. You overheard one of his friends calling him and asking to do something, but Lando was quick to say no. It kinda feels like you’re his priority today. You can’t deny that it makes you feel good.
For now he has you pulled on top of himself on the couch. You’re watching one of your guilty pleasure reality shows. Lando is making fun of the people who participate, but doesn’t complain about the show itself. In the mean time he focusses on playing with your hair. He has you closer on top op him then last night. Maybe it’s because you’re sick and in the need of comfort, maybe it’s because you slowly start to realize that you like Lando, but you let him hold you exactly how he wants to. Meaning that you’re on top of him, with your head on his chest.
Eventually you fall asleep on top of Lando. The tiredness of being sick caught up with you. Lando is quick to notice it. He hears the soft snores which you’re letting out caused by your cold. It’s cute according to him, although he’s sure you won’t agree with him on that. While you’re sleeping, Lando continues to play with your hair.
Lando has sunken deep into his own thoughts. He can’t stop thinking about the progress he made. Max would be proud of him. It has always surprised him how supportive Max has been about his feelings for you. What once started like a small crush, has developed into a massive one for now. Max once told him about your ex and how he really disliked the guy - something Lando strongly agrees with since yesterday. But, because of that Lando always thought Max would be protective and wouldn’t be a fan when he told him about his crush.
“You’re the worst you know,” Max tells Lando with a soft chuckle. Lando is quick to watch away from you and to focus his attention on his friend. He really should stop staring this much at you. In the mean time you’re walking away. Lando can’t help it and watches you once again.
“The absolute worst,” Max continues.
“Hm?” Lando asks, “Why am I the worst?”
“Your eyes are practically glued on my sister,” Max states.
Lando wants to deny the words of Max, but he can’t even find words to do so. Max is right. He only hopes that Max doesn’t connect the dots further. Max laughs when Lando doesn’t respond at first.
“Don’t stress about it,” Max continues, “I don’t mind your crush on her.”
“My crush?” Lando is quick to ask, “I don’t have a-“
“Lando,” Max sighs while interrupting him. “You don’t have to lie about it.”
“You don’t mind it?” Lando asks, he needs to make sure he heard it right. Max has always been really protective about you, so Lando is surprised with how this is going.
“If she has to have a boyfriend, then your my first pick.”
It’s the doorbell that shakes him out of his earlier thoughts. Lando opens the app on his phone. You’re still asleep on his lap. He wants to keep it that way. When he sees the person in front of the door, he chuckles softly. What a coincidence. He taps on the microphone and starts to talk.
“Hey Max, there’s a key under the doormat. I’m in the living room,” he says. He notices how Max nods at him and starts to search for the key. It only takes a small minute before Max is walking into his living room.
When Max walks in, the first thing he notices is you laying on top of Lando while being peacefully asleep. He lets out a soft laugh while looking at Lando and you. “Things are finally working out for you I see?” He asks at first.
While Lando and Max are making some small talk, you slowly wake up as well. At first you wonder to who Lando is talking to, but then you recognize the voice of your brother. You doubt about opening your eyes and showing the boys that you’re awake. They seem to have fun talking together. You decide to give yourself a couple more minutes before intervening in the conversation of Max and Lando.
“You keep surprising me,” you hear Max tell to Lando, “A couple nights back she kept texting me about how annoying you were and how you were keeping awake, but now she’s sleeping on top of you? And in your sweater?”
“It’s a surprise for me as well,” Lando replies. You feel how his hand finds your hair again. Slowly he caresses your hair locks. It makes you feel even more comfortable. It can’t be good how comfortable you are with Lando. It surprises you.
“So no more random girls?” Max asks.
You can’t hear Lando his response. He probably either shook or nodded his head. You wonder which one was it. Max chuckles about it, so you guess he nodded his head. You know for a fact that Lando is a player and will always stay one. It makes your small crush on him only more hopeless. What you don’t know is that Lando never shook his head harder to answer with no to a question.
“But since when are you this close?” Max asks further.
“I don’t know if we’re this close,” Lando sighs, “There was some drama yesterday night, but she should tell you herself about that. I picked her up and tried to help her. And this morning she was sick, so we did nothing all day expect lay on the couch.”
“Since when can you do that?” Max asks surprised, “Normally you can’t even be home for more then an hour.”
Slowly you open your eyes as well. It starts to feel a bit rude to listen to Max and Lando like this. Although you do feel kinda annoyed that Lando still is having sex with other girls. Not that you care, of course. Max is the first one to discover your open eyes and that you seem to be awake.
“Hey!” He greets you enthusiastically. Softly you greet your brother back. You try to sit up a bit instead of laying on Lando, but Lando is quick to keep you close to him. He does however let you sit straight, but after that he pulls you into his arms again. You don’t say anything about it, you just let it happen. Maybe you should stop things like this. You remember yourself about Lando and the other girls and slowly move away from Lando.
In the mean time Max tells Lando and you everything that happened to him lately. You try to focus on his words, but Lando beats you with responding quickly every time. You let it happen. In some strange way, you can’t seem to focus. Maybe it’s still the sickness.
“What did I hear? You had some drama?” Max asks you eventually with a smile.
“It was my ex,” you softly sigh. Max is quick to lose his earlier smile. You know that he has always hated your ex. There wasn’t any specific reason, as far that you know, but Max didn’t like your ex since the beginning.
“What happened?” Max asks quickly.
You start to explain everything to Max what happened last night, giving more details this time then Lando even knew. “He still had some of my stuff,” you start, “and he wanted to meet up to give it back, so we agreed on grabbing dinner together. At first it wasn’t that bad, but eventually he started about getting back together.”
“He wanted to get back together with you?” Lando asks you annoyed. You show him a small nod. Max is muttering some swear words as well in the mean time. You ignore their reactions and continue with telling them what happened.
“I told him that I wasn’t interested anymore,” you explain, “but he thought I had a new boyfriend. He even asked me if it was Lando. I kept telling him that I’m still single, but not feeling anything for him anymore but he didn’t believe me. Eventually he called me a bitch, so I paid for my part and wanted to leave.”
“You should have called me earlier,” Lando mutters, “I should have joined you or something, I knew it was a bad idea.”
“He kept bugging me while I was waiting for Lando to pick me up. Thank god Lando broke probably every speed law and was there really fast,” you joke, “but when my ex saw Lando, he got even more mad. He called me a slut.”
“He called you a slut?” Max asks angrily. You nod.
“Then it kinda escalated,” you continue, “Long story short, he called me a slut again, Lando punched him and eventually my ex missed Lando and punched me.”
Max is quick to stand up. “I’m going to kill him,” he mutters, “What a fucking idiot.”
“But Lando made him scared and then he ran away,” you end the story.
Max is still angry. He does however turn his attention towards Lando. “This is why,” Max eventually tells Lando. You have no clue about what he’s talking, but Lando seems to get it. Lando even shows him a small smile. He knows that this is Max telling him why he does approve of him trying to get with you.
+++
Later that day you feel a lot better then before. Even good enough to have an argument with Lando. It annoys you that things always have to go like this. Everything went well today, but now you’re feeling angry with him again. You don’t even know how it happened, but you’re almost screaming at Lando right now. Fuck.
Lando just told you about his plans to have some drinks with friends tonight, meaning that he would leave you alone for the rest of the night. You couldn’t help yourself and made a small remark about him coming home again with a girl. Which Lando denied, according to him he hasn’t done that since the last girl you heard. Something you don’t believe.
“Why don’t you believe me?” Lando sighs.
“Because you’re a player,” you reply annoyed, “you don’t change like that.”
Lando lets out another loud sigh. He doesn’t know what to say. Of course, he realizes that your claims aren’t coming from nowhere. Maybe he even thinks he deserves it, but still… he wants you to believe him.
“Why do you even care about this?” Lando eventually asks you a bit hopeless. He doesn’t know why you’re arguing with him about this. Of course, he hopes that you do care about it, but the chances are kinda low for that.
“I don’t care about it,” you are quick to state.
“Then why are we arguing about this?” Lando continues to ask.
You don’t have an answer for that question. Lando is right, if you claim to not care about this then it’s stupid to even talk about it. But having this argument with him, is less scary then confessing that you actually do care about it.
“So correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t care if I’m bringing home a girl?” Lando asks further. He’s pushing it this time. Of course, he hopes that you’re going to deny his words but he’s afraid that you won’t.
You doubt about your answer. Maybe you should just be honest. You do care if Lando brings home a girl, because you really don’t want it to happen. This time not because you’re afraid that the sounds will wake you up, but because you’re afraid for your own reaction when it happens. It annoys you that you can’t seem to trust yourself around Lando anymore. There’s a small part inside of you who’s dying to disagree with Lando his words, to tell him that you do care about it. But the small part doesn’t win, you’re not confessing.
“I don’t care,” you state.
Lando takes one last look at you before walking away. He shakes his head in disbelief and sighs while walking away from the living room. In the mean time he decides that this was it. It has no use to walk after you and to wait until you’ll give him a chance, if that would ever happen. You don’t care about him fucking with another girl, so why would he hold back anymore? He really needs to forget about his crush on you. It can’t go like this any longer.
Later that night, you can’t seem to fall asleep. You’re still annoyed by everything that happened. Maybe you’re even so annoyed that you’re still sitting on the couch and scrolling on your phone, instead of being in your bed and catching some sleep. You feel your fever rising up again, but you don’t let yourself go to bed.
You need to know if Lando brings someone home.
Lando didn’t text you, you also didn’t text him after he walked away. You don’t know if he’s coming home late, you can only hope it won’t be that late. You know that this is weird. This isn’t healthy. But still, here you are - sitting on the couch and waiting for Lando to come back home. Maybe you should talk about this with Max? You really need some help.
Before you can make up your mind, you hear the front door opening. It only takes two seconds before you have the answer on your burning question.
It’s the innocent giggles of another random girl that forms the answer to your question. Of course, he bought someone home with him.
a/n; sorry took a bit longer this time :( kinda busy with workkk. hope everyone likes this chapter, the next one will have something more happening :))))
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#lando norris#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris x reader#ln4#lando norris imagines#lando norris imagine#formula one#f1
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is rafe every toxic or mean to shy!reader?
i think so.. maybe in the beginning when he's not as trusting yet and still like opening up to the idea that he has a girl who is completely devoted to him and not playing him or sneaking around... walk w me for this idea its a little stupid but its the best i could think of
you'd been trying your best to be a good girlfriend to rafe—you weren't used to him, the kind of boy he was and life he had. you were more sheltered, a little too trusting when someone was nice and too eager to please.
so he gets a little carried away the first time he gets a glimmer of suspicion. because really, you thought it was harmless, wanting to get to know more about your boyfriend. you thought his closest friends would have answers for you, since his sister never anything nice to say.
you didn't like that—it was beginning to bother you more and more. the rafe that was your boyfriend was nothing like the rafe that sarah always described, and you didn't like how you felt about that either. maybe there was a hidden part of rafe that you hadn't been exposed to yet.
not that you wanted to be exposed to it anyways. you much preferred rafe how he was with you—always gentle and nice, not even raising his voice since you didn't react so well to that. and you, being who you are, knew what you needed to do. keep being a perfect girlfriend for rafe so he would never have to yell at you or get mad.
maybe it's a little fucked up. you don't spend too much time thinking about it, maybe because you don't really care. until you're forced to care, that is.
asking topper and kelce for their numbers seemed innocent to you, seemed like nothing at all. you wanted to know what to get rafe—his birthday was coming up and two whole months of dating him. you figured this was the best way to get some answers without appearing too suspicious—rafe would notice immediately if you went and started having entire conversations with his two friends.
unfortunately you're too sweet for your own good—always have been, always will be. you had smiled shyly and politely thanked them for their numbers, but nervously held off on actually asking them for advice until just today. and the two of them, rafe's friends as they are, are still boys. stupid, immature ones—you knew that much from sarah at least.
rafe picks you up for your date at seven on the dot. normally he comes to the door to get you but this time he doesn't—it doesn't matter since you were waiting by the window anyways. he leans over to open the passenger seat door from the inside for you and you beam up at him.
if you were a little less elated—you might have realized rafe always gets out to open the door for you. he helps you up because his truck is so high and you're a little unsteady in the heels you wear for dates.
you've got it tucked in your little purse—a nice watch, in a little red box. it's vintage and pretty and perfect for rafe. you had put topper and kelce in a groupchat this morning and asked what they thought something nice for rafe would be, something he didn't already have in spades.
you just want to wait until after dinner to surprise him with it—but looking at your silent boyfriend drive to the restaurant, you wonder if you'll get the chance.
he doesn't have to say anything, you can tell something's wrong. your smiling greeting had been met with a quiet hey, with no nickname attached at the end. there was no compliment on your new dress or how pretty your hair looked. and worst of all, he hadn't even smiled in your direction since you got in the car.
you must have done something. rafe never took out his bad moods on you. you just don't know what you did.
rafe parks at the restaurant, and you look straight ahead at the sun setting in the clouds, and then down at your lap instead of at your boyfriend, waiting. waiting for him to say something, waiting to figure out what's gone wrong.
neither of you say anything for what feels like ages. rafe sighs—heavy and with a distinctness, like he's annoyed and angry and though he's not saying it, that it's at you.
"c'mon. we're gonna miss our reservation." you look back at him with parted lips and big eyes. if you were a little more confident, more sure of yourself and not so reliant on others for approval, you would shoot back a witty yet cutting remark. it even burns on your tongue-is that really what you care about right now?
but you're not that girl, never have been and never will be.
"rafe, i'm sorry," you finally say, said with such sincerity you don't think you've ever meant a sentence more. "whatever i did, i'm sorry. you're so upset.. and i don't want to ruin dinner-"
"you apologizin' because you know what you did was wrong? or because you want me to stop bein' mad? which one?"
you're a little dumbfounded—you don't think rafe's ever spoken to you like this the whole time you've know him. and you still don't know what you did.
"no, i.. i don't know what i did. i'm just sorry."
it's pathetic, almost. but you are—hopelessly, pathetically in love. so much so you'll apologize without a reason, that you'll do anything to make your boyfriend stop being upset.
"kid, i-i know we haven't been dating that long, but you can't just go around flirting with my friends. it's just not-"
you don't even hear the end of his sentence. flirting? with rafe's friends? you could barely bring yourself to flirt with rafe, much less his friends.
"when did i do that?" you ask, your made-up face twisted in confusion and concern. "rafe, i would never. ew. no offense to them, i guess. but-"
"so you didn't ask kelce and top for their numbers? both of them?"
"is that you think? that i was flirting?" your spine straightens in your seat, cheeks aflame. "is that what they said to you?" suddenly rafe's concerns mean very little—had you given kelce and topper such an impression?
this was bad. this was very bad. that was sarah's ex-boyfriend, and you certainly didn't want your best friend thinking you were flirting with him. or kelce—who you were trying to get set up with your other friend.
"they said you asked for their numbers. that shit's not fun to hear from your friends, kid. s'fucking embarrassing-"
your face feels hotter, if possible. your cheeks are wet with tears, eyes burning with more. it is embarrassing. you should have known that, should have thought it through. of course rafe's friends told him, you hadn't told them to keep it a secret. swallowing painfully, you try to look back at rafe again but it just makes you want to sob.
"i'm sorry rafe," you say, hating how it comes out in between hiccups with fresh tears. "i-i was just-"
"just what?" rafe's tone makes you want to cry even harder. you rummage through your little purse—stupidly realizing you hadn't even brought a wallet, just your lipgloss and rafe's gift. you take out the tiny box, handing it to rafe.
"i-i just wanted to ask them their opinion. what to get you f-for our two months," you hiccup again, watching rafe stare down at the box. "i'm sorry. i'm really sorry, i would never-"
"shit. kid, i-they didn't tell me any of that."
"i just asked today. and i-i didn't tell them to keep it a secret, so it's my fault and i'm really sorry."
you probably sound pathetic—you certainly feel that way. you wouldn't be surprised if rafe turned the car around and dropped you back home.
"hey. hey. look at me. m'sorry, kid. i didn't know any of that. and this is a really sweet gift, okay? i like it. i love it."
you keep blinking back at rafe, unable to do anything else. you still feel stupid. rafe leans over, wiping away some your tears with his hand. you rest your head against his hand when it does it.
"are you still mad?" you ask quietly, still unsure what the answer will be.
"no, baby, m'not bad. i'm sorry."
"okay. i'm sorry too." you stay silent still, unsure what to say. this is the first time you've ever been in a situation like this with rafe. "i think we missed our reservation."
"yeah kid. pizza and ice cream it is."
"no. you can't wear your new watch for pizza and ice cream."
"sure i can. m'never taking this off."
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IN PLAIN SIGHT — alessia russo
as promised and by very popular demand!! not even gonna lie i kinda love how this turned out:)
mainly just fluff but a little suggestive;)
navigation
being on england camp was something you always loved, being able to represent your country at the highest level was something you could only dream of when you were growing up, wanting nothing more than to follow in your big sisters footsteps.
being surrounded by your friends, your older sister leah all while being able to play the sport that you loved was something that never felt real.
"and then keira said- your not even listenin'!" leah huffed throwing her arms up in the air as you glanced from your phone placing it face down on your sisters bed as she turned to face you.
"i was!" you smiled sweetly in your defence, hoping leah would buy it and carry on with what ever she had been talking about as in reality you hadn't the simplest idea of what she had been talking about for the past twenty minutes.
"mhm, you looked it too!" leah sassed as your rolled your eyes at your older sister's dramatics. "anyways who you textin' with such a cheesy grin on your little face" she asked as your smile dropped a little. "don't think i didn't notice"
"i- uh just a friend" you stutter as leah raised an eyebrow clearly not satisfied with your answer but you weren't ready to tell her the truth of who you were actually texting out of pure fear of her reaction.
"and does said friend have a name?" leah smiled as she moved to sit next to you on her bed as your brain worked fast to try and figure out a way out of answering the question.
"oh it's just an old school friend, i don't-"
"yeah i remember your school friends which one?" you could tell leah didn't believe a single word that was coming from your mouth as she was sat with a look that you knew and seen quite a few time when you were growing up as she was trying to squeeze the actual truth from you but you were giving her no luck.
"um i don't think you met this one, anyways it's getting late i should probably get back to my room, busy day of training tomorrow" you rambled out quickly getting up from leah's bed as quickly as you could before she had the chance to bombard you with anymore questions saying a quick goodbye to your sister as you left.
walking down the corridor of st george's park in direction of a certain someone's room instead of your own, looking over your shoulder every so often to make sure that none of of the england girls where around to see your movements.
three knocks on the door in the same pattern you always did, as a few seconds passed before the door opened, alessia stood with a soft smile on her face as she let you in quickly shutting the door behind her.
"hi love" she mumbled into your hair as you wrapped your arms around her waist mumbling a hello against her as she lifted you up and walked from the doorway to her bed, lying down on it as all you could hear was her heart beating against her chest drowning out the sound of the tv playing a series that alessia had clearly been watching to pass time.
"m’sorry it took me so long to come, i was with leah" you said quietly moving so that the two of you were more comfy.
the blonde shaking her head, "it's okay, i knew that's where you'd be - so actually i was expecting you to be longer!" she assured you as you laughed a little at the last part knowing that leah loved to talk, your older sister always having something to say or comment on.
not always the shy angel that some thought she was - that being only reserved for those she wasn't as comfortable around.
as for you and alessia, nobody knew about your relationship. everyone saw the two of you as best friends and while you were to the outside, behind closed doors and away from prying eyes it had blossomed into something more meaningful, the two of you wrapped up in your own little love bubble.
you'd know alessia for a while having grown up with her and a lot of the current england squad in the youth teams all together however it wasn't until the world cup when you both admitted your feelings to each other a few weeks later after the heartbreak of the final, you finally after years of dancing around the bush asked alessia to be your girlfriend.
the two of you had been together now for seven months. and with each day that passed you were more and more scared of your older sisters reaction to you dating alessia.
you had grown bored of the series alessia was watching your fingers trailing up and down the blondes arm in hope you would peel her attention from the tv screen and onto you instead.
at first you were having no look until you felt a slight shiver from the girl, her face turning to look at you a sheepish smile appearing on your face. “hi”
“hi” she breathed out her face inches away from touching yours. the blonde looking into your blue orbs, deciding if she was going to make the move or if she was waiting for you to, seconds later bringing her hand up to your face, cupping your cheek and using her thumb to run across your cheekbones, pulling you that little bit closer to her.
you allowing alessia to pull you, your faces stopping that mere millimetre away from each other, alessia’s hand remaining in its place. taking in being able to feel your soft skin under her finger tips again.
your lips barely grazing, but you could feel your breath mixing together.
“please” you whimpered, unable to stop the begging tone from the slowness of the build up as it was killing you. “what?” alessia innocently asked as you rolled your eyes.
you could feel alessia’s lips graze yours as you moved that little bit closer, your lips now ever so slightly touching.
“just kiss me-“ you breathed out, alessia nodding and moving her head forward allowing your lips to connect properly. you both taking a deep breath at the familiar tingles from your connection.
your hand resting on the blondes thigh, squeezing it slightly as the blonde let out a small moan, finally getting the sound you’d been craving.
alessia ran her hand that was previously on your cheek to the back of your neck, “i love you” alessia moaned into the kiss, her breath hitching as she felt your tongue come out and graze her bottom lip. alessia bringing her own out to touch yours, you squeezing alessia’s thigh in response.
“i love you so much” you whispered against her lips, as you felt alessia pull lightly on the back of your hair. “wish i could stay with you tonight” you added as you both pulled away to regain your breath.
“someone would definitely get suspicious then, love” she smiled softly, her pupils dilated as she looked at you so in love.
you frowned for a split second, before moving to straddle the blonde as her hands quickly found your waist you the one this time to rest your hands on her neck.
leaning in ever so slightly, “we better make good use of the time we have together then!” you whispered, alessia seeing a change in your eyes, they were darker as you continued leaning in trailing kissing from her jawline down to her neck.
finding the skin of her neck between your lips as you kissed her neck with a little more pressure, your teeth nipping slightly at the skin. knowing exactly where and how she liked to be kissed, as alessia’s grip on your waist tightened as small whines fell from her lips.
“i- fuck, babe, no marks please” she cursed under her breath, as you hummed against her skin, however you knew you couldn’t make any promises to the blonde.
sitting down with georgia and ella while you ate breakfast conversating over small things as well as the next matches that were in a few days time.
“less is late down today?" georgia said out of the blue, your eyebrows raising a little, "she's probably still doin' her hair- y'know what she's like!" ella rolled her eyes as you nodded a long agreeing with the two of them.
you’d left alessia’s room early this morning after falling asleep in her room last night, not wanting to have to explain to any of your teammates why you’d be in there when they came to knock on for the blonde.
doing your usual routine of kissing her forehead, mumbling an ‘i love you’ and sending her a text message for when she woke up so she knew where you’d be before leaving to your own room to get ready.
your shrugged your shoulders as you put another spoonful of your breakfast into your mouth and the topic changed once again.
"so in ireland we need to go and try-" you were in the middle of a new topic of things you may have time to see and do in your short trip to ireland for the next match when all of a sudden milk is being sprayed from ella’s mouth and all of you.
"ELLA! what the fuck man!" you groan loudly looking down at your now soaking wet training jumper. "ay language!" you heard leah yell over from another table rolling your eyes you turned back to ella and georgia who were both sat opposite you as milk dripped down your face.
"what was that for?" you ask, moving quickly to take your jumper off, leaving you in your training top. you look up to georgia and ella who are both sending gawk eyes at whoever is stood behind you.
"what- oh hey lessi" you gave her a small smile as she stood stone faced behind you, wincing as you realised why she had that look on her face.
a hickey that you’d given her from last night had formed on her neck all red and purple, you could tell she’d try to put concealer over it however it wasn’t enough to cover it.
“oo um, you sleep well?” you cringed sending the blonde a sorry look as you watched the ella and georgia burst out laughing the two nearly on the verge of crying with laughter, you not totally understanding what was so funny.
“less- if you ask, the kitchen staff they may be able to give you a whisk!” ella joked in between her loud laughs with georgia, a few of the girls around the room looking over to your table with confused looks as alessia scoffed walking away in the direction of the where the food was being served to get her own breakfast.
you felt yourself sink further into the chair, unsure of how the next few minutes were going to go, georgia and ella finally beginning to stop laughing. “so you and less huh?” georgia wiggled her eyebrows.
“um- wait how do you know?” you asked, pushing the rest of your breakfast around with your spoon.
“well one you’ve just confirmed our suspicions and two it was pretty obvious mate” georgia pointed out as they both began to list out interactions they had noted between you and the blonde.
it ranging from little looks they’d noticed to the small touches and how you would act around each other when you both thought nobody was watching you.
“and from then, the whole team realised you were both together” ella finished as you hummed along, alessia now sat down next to you eating her own breakfast, your ears perking up at the sound of the words ‘whole team’
did that mean leah already knew too?
“what do you mean whole team?” you said calmly however you could feel your heart racing. alessia sensing your panic as she placed her hand on your knee to reassure you.
“well everyone had their suspicions, even leah” ella shrugged as your eyes widen but you were also wondering why she had never brought it up to you.
“um, i’ll be back” you shot up out your seat, rushing off towards your sister before they had a chance to ask where you were going.
the three watching as you rushed off in direction of type sisters table.
“le, can i talk to you?” you said quickly, startling your sister at your presence as she sat with keira, beth, millie and mary.
“yeah, what’s wrong?” she smiled turning to face you as you stood to the side of her, leah’s arm rest in on the back of the chair, noticing your panicked state.
“in private” you mumbled, your eyes flicking towards the two girls leah was sat with. your sister nodded as she began to stand up, telling the two girls she would be back in a minute as you both began to walk outside of the canteen.
“what’s wrong, why you all nervous?” leah asked, worried look growing on her face with each passing second as you both stood in the hallway of st george’s park. you fidgeting with the rings in your fingers as your tried to find you words.
“so, do you um- know about me” you trailed off, stumbling over your words as leah smiled to herself nodding knowing now exactly what you were going to say.
“about you and alessia being in a relationship? she finished your sentence for you, you head snapping up at your sisters words as you shyly nodded biting your top lip to stop the big grin from appearing on your face as you still were unsure of her initial reaction.
“of course, you two are not very discreet y’know- basically in plain sight!” leah laughed a little to herself as your smile slowly started to grow.
“but you do know that you live with me and i’ve heard quite a few of your conversations with each other over the past few months!” leah pointed out as you face frozefor a minute, your cheeks starting to go all hot and probably red as your brain replayed a few of yours and alessia’s conversation, some definitely not what you want your older sister to be over hearing.
“how come you never told me?” leah asked as you shrugged, you knew why but you weren’t sure if you were ready to admit that out loud to your older sister.
you sighed, “just didn’t know how you were gonna react, i guess”
“your so stupid at times, along as your happy i don’t care who your dating!” leah laughed as she pulled you in for a hug as you rolled your eyes at her harmless insult.
“sorry for not telling you” you smiled as leah nodded her hand waving backwards dismissing your comment.
“but if alessia ever breaks your heart, i will not hesitate to make her life a living hell!” leah said in her serious tone, her face dropping to that scary glare she did all too easily as she rambled on about giving alessia the talk later on.
you groaning as you rolled your eyes at your older sister protectiveness, nudging her a little as you both walked back into the canteen.
“hey! i’m just looking out for my baby sister!”
(pretend it’s you and less!)
y/nwilliamson
liked by keirawalsh and 732,549 others
y/nwilliamson forgot to mention🩷 @alessia
comments —
ellatoone and they thought we didn’t know🙄😅
1h 194 likes reply
leahwilliamson happy for you both but i was being serious about my last part - i’m watching you russo!
1h 327 likes reply
-> alessia 🫡
-> y/nwilliamson stop acting all tough! your a big softie!!
keirawalsh is this the hard launch?
1h 110 likes reply
-> y/nwilliamson something like that🤔
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#alessia russo#alessia russo x y/n#alessia russo x reader#woso community#woso#woso blurbs#woso imagine#woso x reader#arsenal women#awfc#arsenal wfc#awfc imagine#awfc x reader#england wnt#england#england women#beth mead#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson#ella toone#georgia stanway#millie bright#mary earps#enwoso
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UK publishers suing Google for $17.4b over rigged ad markets
THIS WEEKEND (June 7–9), I'm in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.
Look, no one wants to kick Big Tech to the curb more than I do, but, also: it's good that Google indexes the news so people can find it, and it's good that Facebook provides forums where people can talk about the news.
It's not news if you can't find it. It's not news if you can't talk about it. We don't call information you can't find or discuss "news" – we call it "secrets."
And yet, the most popular – and widely deployed – anti-Big Tech tactic promulgated by the news industry and supported by many of my fellow trustbusters is premised on making Big Tech pay to index the news and/or provide a forum to discuss news articles. These "news bargaining codes" (or, less charitably, "link taxes") have been mooted or introduced in the EU, France, Spain, Australia, and Canada. There are proposals to introduce these in the US (through the JCPA) and in California (the CJPA).
These US bills are probably dead on arrival, for reasons that can be easily understood by the Canadian experience with them. After Canada introduced Bill C-18 – its own news bargaining code – Meta did exactly what it had done in many other places where this had been tried: blocked all news from Facebook, Instagram, Threads, and other Meta properties.
This has been a disaster for the news industry and a disaster for Canadians' ability to discuss the news. Oh, it makes Meta look like assholes, too, but Meta is the poster child for "too big to care" and is palpably indifferent to the PR costs of this boycott.
Frustrated lawmakers are now trying to figure out what to do next. The most common proposal is to order Meta to carry the news. Canadians should be worried about this, because the next government will almost certainly be helmed by the far-right conspiratorialist culture warrior Pierre Poilievre, who will doubtless use this power to order Facebook to platform "news sites" to give prominence to Canada's rotten bushel of crypto-fascist (and openly fascist) "news" sites.
Americans should worry about this too. A Donald Trump 2028 presidency combined with a must-carry rule for news would see Trump's cabinet appointees deciding what is (and is not) news, and ordering large social media platforms to cram the Daily Caller (or, you know, the Daily Stormer) into our eyeballs.
But there's another, more fundamental reason that must-carry is incompatible with the American system: the First Amendment. The government simply can't issue a blanket legal order to platforms requiring them to carry certain speech. They can strongly encourage it. A court can order limited compelled speech (say, a retraction following a finding of libel). Under emergency conditions, the government might be able to compel the transmission of urgent messages. But there's just no way the First Amendment can be squared with a blanket, ongoing order issued by the government to communications platforms requiring them to reproduce, and make available, everything published by some collection of their favorite news outlets.
This might also be illegal in Canada, but it's harder to be definitive. The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms was enshrined in 1982, and Canada's Supreme Court is still figuring out what it means. Section Two of the Charter enshrines a free expression right, but it's worded in less absolute terms than the First Amendment, and that's deliberate. During the debate over the wording of the Charter, Canadian scholars and policymakers specifically invoked problems with First Amendment absolutism and tried to chart a middle course between strong protections for free expression and problems with the First Amendment's brook-no-exceptions language.
So maybe Canada's Supreme Court would find a must-carry order to Meta to be a violation of the Charter, but it's hard to say for sure. The Charter is both young and ambiguous, so it's harder to be definitive about what it would say about this hypothetical. But when it comes to the US and the First Amendment, that's categorically untrue. The US Constitution is centuries older than the Canadian Charter, and the First Amendment is extremely definitive, and there are reams of precedent interpreting it. The JPCA and CJPA are totally incompatible with the US Constitution. Passing them isn't as silly as passing a law declaring that Pi equals three or that water isn't wet, but it's in the neighborhood.
But all that isn't to say that the news industry shouldn't be attacking Big Tech. Far from it. Big Tech compulsively steals from the news!
But what Big Tech steals from the news isn't content.
It's money.
Big Tech steals money from the news. Take social media: when a news outlet invests in building a subscriber base on a social media platform, they're giving that platform a stick to beat them with. The more subscribers you have on social media, the more you'll be willing to pay to reach those subscribers, and the more incentive there is for the platform to suppress the reach of your articles unless you pay to "boost" your content.
This is plainly fraudulent. When I sign up to follow a news outlet on a social media site, I'm telling the platform to show me the things the news outlet publishes. When the platform uses that subscription as the basis for a blackmail plot, holding my desire to read the news to ransom, they are breaking their implied promise to me to show me the things I asked to see:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web
This is stealing money from the news. It's the definition of an "unfair method of competition." Article 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act gives the FTC the power to step in and ban this practice, and they should:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge
Big Tech also steals money from the news via the App Tax: the 30% rake that the mobile OS duopoly (Apple/Google) requires for every in-app purchase (Apple/Google also have policies that punish app vendors who take you to the web to make payments without paying the App Tax). 30% out of every subscriber dollar sent via an app is highway robbery! By contrast, the hyperconcentrated, price-gouging payment processing cartel charges 2-5% – about a tenth of the Big Tech tax. This is Big Tech stealing money from the news:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-must-open-app-stores
Finally, Big Tech steals money by monopolizing the ad market. The Google-Meta ad duopoly takes 51% out of every ad-dollar spent. The historic share going to advertising "intermediaries" is 10-15%. In other words, Google/Meta cornered the market on ads and then tripled the bite they were taking out of publishers' advertising revenue. They even have an illegal, collusive arrangement to rig this market, codenamed "Jedi Blue":
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue
There's two ways to unrig the ad market, and we should do both of them.
First, we should trustbust both Google and Meta and force them to sell off parts of their advertising businesses. Currently, both Google and Meta operate a "full stack" of ad services. They have an arm that represents advertisers buying space for ads. Another arm represents publishers selling space to advertisers. A third arm operates the marketplace where these sales take place. All three arms collect fees. On top of that: Google/Meta are both publishers and advertisers, competing with their own customers!
This is as if you were in court for a divorce and you discovered that the same lawyer representing your soon-to-be ex was also representing you…while serving as the judge…and trying to match with you both on Tinder. It shouldn't surprise you if at the end of that divorce, the court ruled that the family home should go to the lawyer.
So yeah, we should break up ad-tech:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-shatter-ad-tech
Also: we should ban surveillance advertising. Surveillance advertising gives ad-tech companies a permanent advantage over publishers. Ad-tech will always know more about readers' behavior than publishers do, because Big Tech engages in continuous, highly invasive surveillance of every internet user in the world. Surveillance ads perform a little better than "content-based ads" (ads sold based on the content of a web-page, not the behavior of the person looking at the page), but publishers will always know more about their content than ad-tech does. That means that even if content-based ads command a slightly lower price than surveillance ads, a much larger share of that payment will go to publishers:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising
Banning surveillance advertising isn't just good business, it's good politics. The potential coalition for banning surveillance ads is everyone who is harmed by commercial surveillance. That's a coalition that's orders of magnitude larger than the pool of people who merely care about fairness in the ad/news industries. It's everyone who's worried about their grandparents being brainwashed on Facebook, or their teens becoming anorexic because of Instagram. It includes people angry about deepfake porn, and people angry about Black Lives Matter protesters' identities being handed to the cops by Google (see also: Jan 6 insurrectionists).
It also includes everyone who discovers that they're paying higher prices because a vendor is using surveillance data to determine how much they'll pay – like when McDonald's raises the price of your "meal deal" on your payday, based on the assumption that you will spend more when your bank account is at its highest monthly level:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again
Attacking Big Tech for stealing money is much smarter than pretending that the problem is Big Tech stealing content. We want Big Tech to make the news easy to find and discuss. We just want them to stop pocketing 30 cents out of every subscriber dollar and 51 cents out of ever ad dollar, and ransoming subscribers' social media subscriptions to extort publishers.
And there's amazing news on this front: a consortium of UK web-publishers called Ad Tech Collective Action has just triumphed in a high-stakes proceeding, and can now go ahead with a suit against Google, seeking damages of GBP13.6b ($17.4b) for the rigged ad-tech market:
https://www.reuters.com/technology/17-bln-uk-adtech-lawsuit-against-google-can-go-ahead-tribunal-rules-2024-06-05/
The ruling, from the Competition Appeal Tribunal, paves the way for a frontal assault on the thing Big Tech actually steals from publishers: money, not content.
This is exactly what publishing should be doing. Targeting the method by which tech steals from the news is a benefit to all kinds of news organizations, including the independent, journalist-owned publishers that are doing the best news work today. These independents do not have the same interests as corporate news, which is dominated by hedge funds and private equity raiders, who have spent decades buying up and hollowing out news outlets, and blaming the resulting decline in readership and profits on Craiglist.
You can read more about Big Finance's raid on the news in Margot Susca's Hedged: How Private Investment Funds Helped Destroy American Newspapers and Undermine Democracy:
https://www.press.uillinois.edu/books/?id=p087561
You can also watch/listen to Adam Conover's excellent interview with Susca:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N21YfWy0-bA
Frankly, the looters and billionaires who bought and gutted our great papers are no more interested in the health of the news industry or democracy than Big Tech is. We should care about the news and the workers who produce the news, not the profits of the hedge-funds that own the news. An assault on Big Tech's monetary theft levels the playing field, making it easier for news workers and indies to compete directly with financialized news outlets and billionaire playthings, by letting indies keep more of every ad-dollar and more of every subscriber-dollar – and to reach their subscribers without paying ransom to social media.
Ending monetary theft – rather than licensing news search and discussion – is something that workers are far more interested in than their bosses. Any time you see workers and their bosses on the same side as a fight against Big Tech, you should look more closely. Bosses are not on their workers' side. If bosses get more money out of Big Tech, they will not share those gains with workers unless someone forces them to.
That's where antitrust comes in. Antitrust is designed to strike at power, and enforcers have broad authority to blunt the power of corporate juggernauts. Remember Article 5 of the FTC Act, the one that lets the FTC block "unfair methods of competition?" FTC Chair Lina Khan has proposed using it to regulate training AI, specifically to craft rules that address the labor and privacy issues with AI:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mh8Z5pcJpg
This is an approach that can put creative workers where they belong, in a coalition with other workers, rather than with their bosses. The copyright approach to curbing AI training is beloved of the same media companies that are eagerly screwing their workers. If we manage to make copyright – a transferrable right that a worker can be forced to turn over their employer – into the system that regulates AI training, it won't stop training. It'll just trigger every entertainment company changing their boilerplate contract so that creative workers have to sign over their AI rights or be shown the door:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand
Then those same entertainment and news companies will train AI models and try to fire most of their workers and slash the pay of the remainder using those models' output. Using copyright to regulate AI training makes changes to who gets to benefit from workers' misery, shifting some of our stolen wages from AI companies to entertainment companies. But it won't stop them from ruining our lives.
By contrast, focusing on actual labor rights – say, through an FTCA 5 rulemaking – has the potential to protect those rights from all parties, and puts us on the same side as call-center workers, train drivers, radiologists and anyone else whose wages are being targeted by AI companies and their customers.
Policy fights are a recurring monkey's paw nightmare in which we try to do something to fight corruption and bullying, only to be outmaneuvered by corrupt bullies. Making good policy is no guarantee of a good outcome, but it sure helps – and good policy starts with targeting the thing you want to fix. If we're worried that news is being financially starved by Big Tech, then we should go after the money, not the links.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/06/stealing-money-not-content/#content-free
#pluralistic#competition#advertising#surveillance advertising#saving the news from big tech#link taxes#trustbusting#competition and markets authority#uk#ukpoli#Ad Tech Collective Action#digital markets unit#Competition Appeal Tribunal
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TEACH ME (m)
synopsis. Teach me.. that’s what he says everytime he’s got his fingers deep inside you.
trope: age gap [10 years] yandere, forbidden relationship and cheating.
warnings. f-ngering, expl-cit themes, pr-fanity, he’s got a filthy mouth, f-rbidden r-lationship [teach-r x st-dent], y-ndere jk, p-sessive beh-viour, j-alousy, ch-ating, m-oning strict 18+ THEMES. MDNÏ.
note. PHEWWWWWW 🫠🫡🥵… YALL….. this is for all the horny girls on my blog. ONLY FOR YOU!! I think this is not gonna be a series but just a one shot and I hope to get it out soon but I wanted to put out a teaser and please talk to him and I just know you’re gonna love him because I know you guys have some fucked up fantasies. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS. I LOVE READING YOUR THOUGHTS AND YOUR ASKS also YALL the colored gradient text looks so pretty 🥹🥹🥹
note 2.0. This is strictly for 18+ so please do not interact if you’re underage. [TEASER]
If you wanna be tagged, please reply under this post x
“Hahaha what??”
Jungkook walks to your figure, you’re standing behind your desk, your back leaning against the blackboard, he knows you’ve said something really important right now but…
How the fuck is he supposed to take you seriously when your tits are practically popping out of your right dress shirt? Or the pencil skirt that is clinging onto your ass like second skin?
Goodness you’re so fucking hot, his cock is practically pulsing inside his underwear.
“Ms yn… what?” He manages to say, now towering over your smaller figure, you glare at him, swear tickling down your forehead.
“It’s Mrs Jeong for you!”
“Ms yn…. No.” Jungkook rolls his eyes as he closes the distance between you two, there’s no one in this empty university hallway, your door is closed,
Jungkooks eyes are set on you like a predator and the way your breathing is irregular suddenly, makes him feel superior to you despite your age difference of 10 years.
“Sorry that’s almost sounds like you said Mrs Jeon…. Haha… so similar won’t you agree?” His chest is now touching yours, his eyes contain a carnal hunger for you.
“I’m sorry but that can’t happen, yn.” He tsks, feigning disappointment, like he’s sympathizing with you, but you know better.
Jungkook knows that you know him better than anyone.
You know him so deeply and so intimately.
Jungkook forces his knee between your legs, spreading them, you gasp, he smirks.
“How dare you try to abandon me huh? I don’t give a fuck- NO JUNGKOOK YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I-I CANT COMPROMISE- shhh.” He presses his finger on your tinted lips.
He guides his hand down your panties, playing with the hem of it, “n-no jungkook please don’t-“” jungkook doesn’t stop, “listen yn- or Mrs Jeong.” He grits his teeth while spitting your last name out,
“I don’t give a FUCK ABOUT YOUR PATHETIC HUSBAND! OR YOUR SHAM OF A MARRIAGE!” He seethes,
“How pathetic you are huh?” he bites his tongue before speaking. “You sleep on that very bed with your stupid husband where I’ve made you cum so many fuckin times huh?” He tugs your panties down roughly.
You need a reminder of who you belong to, and he will gladly do it right here in this classroom.
“J-JUNGKOOK What are you doing?” You stutter, he rolls his eyes.
You know damn well what he’s doing. “Oh ms yn. You should know damn well and what I’m doing. Because your body knows it.” He smiles, almost cruelly at you.
He starts to tease your wet pooling heat, his fingers skilled as he starts to move them around your clit.
“nghh nooo..” you can’t even hold your moans at this point. He gets your sexual frustration. Your pathetic excuse of husband can never please you.
Your brain & your heart, and especially your pussy are currently fighting with each other right now disagreeing with what you really want and what you should do.
arguing with you between what’s wrong and what’s right.
“Oh come on ms yn- you’re soaking wet for me..” he plunges his fingers inside your inviting cunt.
“Oh yes moan for me…” he groans, whispering in your ear.
Your eyes are at the verge of rolling back he fucks you with his calloused fingers. “Divorce the bastard and I’ll let you cum.”
He pumps them in and out of you- teasing you.
Jungkook licks the side of your neck, grunting in your ear.
“If you won’t divorce him I’ll murder him and then fuck you right infront of his rotting corpse.”
#jungkook smut#bts smut#smut#yandere x reader#yandere smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#Jungkook x you#jungkook ff#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#yandere bts#yandere jungkook#jeongguk x reader#bts fanfic#jjk smut#yandere jjk#jjk angst#kpop smut#dark jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk scenarios#jjk imagines#jungkook imagine#jjk fanfic#yandere au#yandere x you
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keep quiet - yjw
summary: just the sight of jungwon's hands make you horny, but you have to stay quiet with all the members home as well || warnings: dom!jungwon x sub!reader, fingering, mentions of members being in other rooms || genre: smut, fluff, established relationship || word count: approximately 750
You lie in bed next to my boyfriend. He was busy scrolling through his phone as you scrolled through your own. Well, you were scrolling through your phone until you got distracted by the sight of your boyfriend's hands.
Jungwon had no intention of distracting you, you knew that. It was just how they were so big and looked extra veiny, especially in this lighting. You couldn't help but find yourself pressing your thighs together, your core slowly growing wetter and wetter by the second.
"Jungwon." You softly said, in nearly a whine.
Your boyfriend looked over at you, a small smile on his face, "Hm?" He asked, wondering what was up.
You didn't say anything as you put one of your smaller hands over his larger one that held his phone. He transferred his phone to his other hand and held your hand with the now free one.
"You okay?" Jungwon asked and you shook my head. "What's wrong?" He then asked, looking into your eyes, trying to figure out what was happening.
You didn't say anything as you scooted a little closer to him in bed, your arm going around his torso as your leg went over one of his. You slowly started grinding against his leg, looking up at him shyly, seeing if he was getting the hint.
He for sure was, you could see the look in his eyes growing darker. "My girl needs me?" Jungwon asked. You nodded. "What do you need? My mouth, my hands, my cock?" He then asked.
"Hands." You shyly answered.
"Yeah?" Jungwon asked and you nodded eagerly. "Okay." He smiled a little. He gently pushed you over so that you were lying down flat on my back as he turned on his side. "Take your bottoms off, angel." Jungwon said and you nodded, slowly sliding them down your body and putting them on the floor next to the bed.
Jungwon shoved his hand towards your core without warning, his hand pushing your legs apart before he slowly started rubbing your clit, making you let out a gasp. Jungwon continued what he was doing, his movement slow for now.
Jungwon's hand moved down, his fingers prodding at your hole a little, his fingers growing sticky from your arousal. It was almost embarrassing but as your eyes focused on his hands, the way they moved, it just made you wetter.
Jungwon then slowly pushed two of his fingers, his middle and ring finger, inside of you. You grabbed his arm as you let out another gasp. Jungwon didn't say or do anything, seemingly very focused on what he was doing as he slowly curled his fingers, looking up at my facial expression as you furrowed your eyebrows in pleasure. He uncurled his fingers before curling them again inside of you. "Jungwon." You breathily moaned, your hand still holding onto his arm.
"Shhhh, I got you." Jungwon said in a low tone. You see, the other members were all in their rooms, probably asleep by now so he didn't want to wake anyone up with your noises nor did he really want any of the members hearing you like this. These sounds were only for his ears.
He then slowly started pumping his fingers in and out of you, watching as you did your best to suppress your moans, your hand leaving his arm and going to your mouth, covering it to muffle the noise. Jungwon was the only one who could hear it, he was the only one close enough to.
This continued on for a few moments, Jungwon pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling his fingers inside of you every once in a while, watching your expressions of pleasure. You suddenly felt the knot in your stomach growing tighter, feeling like it was ready to burst any second now.
"Jungwon, Jungwon, Jungwon." You moaned, repeating his name as you felt yourself about to cum.
"Shh, shh. Go ahead." Jungwon softly said and the next thing you knew, after his words of approval, you were cumming all over his fingers. Jungwon continued pumping them in and out of you through your high before slowly coming to a stop. He pulled his fingers out of you as you rested your head against his chest, letting out shaky breaths.
"You did so good for me." Jungwon praised you as he looked into your eyes. He loved being the only one who could both see and hear you like this. He absolutely loved it.
-- link to my masterlist
#luvlucia#minors dni#enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#yang jungwon#yang jungwon x reader#yang jungwon smut#jungwon smut#yang jungwon hard thoughts#kpop#kpop smut#fluff#smut#established relationship
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Incorrect Quotes (/w Alastor)
* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *
Tried the incorrect quotes shit, it was pretty fun (just wanted to show my results as well haha...)
★⟣—— ——⟣★
Reader: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!
Alastor: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.
Reader: Stop.
xxxxxx
Reader: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.
Alastor: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.
xxxxxx
Alastor: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?
Reader: It was autocorrect.
Alastor: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?
Reader: Yes.
xxxxxx
Reader, looking at a selfie of Alastor’s: I hate this photo.
Alastor: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly.
Reader: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something.
Alastor: Up to kindness.
Reader: ...
Reader: Kindness my ass.
xxxxxx
Alastor: We should be partners.
Reader: You mean like, partners in crime?
Alastor: Yeah... that’s precisely what I meant.
xxxxxx
Alastor: Go fuck yourself.
Reader: Come over here and fuck me yourself you coward!
xxxxxx
Reader: Go to hell!
Alastor: Oh! I’ve been there, thank you. I found it quite lovely.
xxxxxx
Alastor: Father, I have sinned.
Reader: Daddy, I’ve been naughty.
xxxxxx
Reader: Stop doing that.
Alastor: Stop doing what?
Reader: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.
xxxxxx
Reader: How much did you spend on this date?
Alastor: $1400. But all of it's on credit cards, so it's like $5 a month for the next 2,000 years.
xxxxxx
Reader: *nudges Alastor at 3am* Pretty fucked up that we depict the moon as a girl and the sun as a boy. They're just floating rocks in space. Alastor? Wake up, Alastorr! Listen! They're sexless!
Alastor: The sun isn't a rock, go back to sleep.
xxxxxx
Reader: What do you want to be for Halloween?
Alastor: Yours.
Reader:
Reader: …yeah, that would be pretty scary.
xxxxxx
Reader: That was so hot, Alastor.
Alastor: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.
Reader: I'm so in love with you.
xxxxxx
Alastor: Hey, about that love letter you sent me-
Reader: *blushes* What are your thoughts?
Alastor: The fourth sentence-
Reader: Yeah, that’s where I got really emotional and I-
Alastor: It’s “you’re” not “your”.
xxxxxx
Reader: My hands are cold.
Alastor: Here, let me hold them.
Reader: My lips are cold too.
Alastor: *covers Reader's mouth with their hand*
xxxxxx
Reader: So... what would you do if you were in bed with me?
Alastor: Depends. Is your bed comfortable?
Reader: Yes.
Alastor: I'd sleep.
xxxxxx
Waiter: What would you like?
Reader: Bring a milkshake with two straws.
Reader: *blushes*
Alastor: *puts both straws in their mouth* Watch how fast I can drink this!!
xxxxxx
Reader: I'm trash.
Alastor: As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7 work for you?
Reader: ...
Reader: You smooth motherfucker.
Reader: And yes it does.
xxxxxx
Alastor, watching Reader: Ah yes. The mysterious and beautiful Reader, so demure…
Alastor: …I wonder what sort of melodic sounds this wonderful being makes?
Reader: *screaming*
xxxxxx
Reader: We’re getting married, bitches!
Alastor: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.
xxxxxx
Reader: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.
Alastor: Aren't you forgetting something?
Reader: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Alastor's forehead before running out.*
Alastor: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?
xxxxxx
Alastor: Reader and I are so close we even share a toothbrush.
Reader: You brush your teeth?
★⟣—— ——⟣★
cant think if anything to post so just take this!
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red wine supernova / regina george
SUMMARY regina george has made you the new victim of her attention. it's a different kind of attention than you expected from her.
QUOTE "she was a playboy, bridgette bardot, / she showed me things i didn't know, / she did it right there, out on the deck, / put her canine teeth in the side of my neck," - red wine supernova by chappell roan
WORD COUNT 1.1K
WRITTEN 6.3.2024
you've always been introverted and shy - some people were loud, rambunctious, easily likeable. easily sociable. it had never been that easy for you - anxiety rumbling at the bottom of your stomach every time you spoke to someone new, hands trembling and voice stuttering as you spoke in front of the class. it didn't help when others began to tease you for it - it only made you more reclusive.
but then, she noticed you. everyone knew who she was. regina george. queen bee of the mean girls, the plastics, the fake and bake's, whatever people liked to call them these days. and believe me, no one wanted to be noticed by regina george, not the way she noticed you.
it started out as small, targeted comments in the lunch line. on your clothes, on the foos you ate, on the way you did your hair. cute, girly tips hidden behind the pretentiousness of a pig with lip glass. okay, perhaps that was taking things way too far. she was gorgeous and she wasn't completely terrible. you just couldn't figure out why you were so special to be one of the few victims of her attention and insults.
but now she was making it obvious to everyone that she had taken some odd liking to you. swinging her arm around your shoulder and calling you pet, playing with your hair and giving you beauty tips with thinly veiled conceit, things like that.
you tried to stay away from her as much as possible, but unfortunately that was impossible. world history and of course, for your final project, you abaolutely had to be thrown with her.
regina plopped down in the seat next to you as people scattered across the room to find their project partner. aaron was sitting practically next to her, but she wasn't even watching him. she seemed to give all her attention to you lately. "hey babes, looks like we're stuck together."
you laughed nervously. "yeah, looks that way," you responded in a small tone, staring down at your notes. "so i was thinking, i'm very educated in world war two discourse, i was hoping we could do our project on -"
"you know, you should totally come over my house this weekend." most of your classmates around you froze and glanced towards regina. she never invited anyone but the plastics at her house. "i can show you how to do makeup - i'll even let you borrow my lip gloss."
"you never let me borrow your lip -"
"oh my god, will you stop taking things so personally gretchen?" regina responded, not even turning around in her chair to face gretchen, who was sitting behind her. regina gestured to gretchen and rolled her eyes, finally returning all her attention to you. she grabbed your hand and started to trial her fingernail around your hand in circles. "what do you say, pet?"
"umm, i'll bring my notebook so we can work too," you responded in an uncertain tone.
"great!"
-
"and don't worry girls, if you want to have a party, i still have all of my old nas cd's downstairs!" regina'a mother exclaimed as she left the room. you and regina were situated on her bed, sitting rather close to one another. as you reached to pull your notebook out of your bag, regina pushed your hand back down so that your notebook was firmly back in it's place.
"don't be a bore, let's have some fun first," regina responded with a roll of her eyes, popping her lollipop back in her mouth. she grabbed you by the arm and hauled you all the way over to her vanity, turning on the lighting and grabbing all the possible makeup in sight. "we are giving you a makeover."
she grinned at you, and in that moment you couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. you decided to go along, for the sake of it - why upset her now? she could have her fun with you and then you could go back to working on your project. "all right, i guess."
she started to pull out all sorts of makeup application devices you either recognized and didn't use or had never seen at all. she tapped her phone and punk rock music began to blare through the speakers in her room - you found yourself suprised at her music taste but said nothing, only tapping your feet along to the beat.
she began by brushing your hair and pulling it back with a headband, giving her free reign to do whatever she wanted to your face. she started out with skincare, washing your face and applying a face mask.
"so, what do you like to do in your free time, or whatever?" regina asked you in a bored tone, though her eyes seemed rather interested as she looked down at you. enamored, almost, but that must have been a trick of the light.
you started to name a few hobbies but before you knew it, the two of you were deep into conversation about various different things and surprisingly, as she did your makeup, you found yourself opening up to her, becoming louder and louder, while she somehow became more dormant - less mean and commanding and more, understanding and listening.
"okay, take a look!"
you turned around and faced yourself in the mirror. you smiled widely as you felt rather pretty, wearing the makeup regina had put on you, sparkly yellow eyeshadow and pink mascara. you saw regina biting her bottom lip as she looked at you in the mirror - suddenly you felt shy again and felt a blush fall over your cheeks.
"how do you like it?" regina asked as she turned you to face her.
"i feel really pretty . . . thanks," you mumbled shyly, staring down at your feet
"you are really pretty," she told you in a low tone, placing her finger under your chin and raising your head so you met her eyes. "you're so fucking dumb, how long will it take you to realize i like you, pet?"
she laughed at your confounded expression. you felt your face turn a tomato red and you buried your face in your hands, feeling embarrassed. "i thought you were making fun of me!" you exclaimed between your fingers.
"i was endearingly teasing you, or whatever," regina said in a defensive tone, though she was still falling over laughing at your expression.
"this isn't a prank, right?"
"of course not! now let's finish this dumb project so i can take you out on a date, hoe."
#regina george x you#regina george x reader#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]#my writing#fanfiction#my fanfiction#my fic#writing#fanfic#harry potter
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Wrong Name
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader
Summary: Charles pranks Y/N by calling her the wrong name to see how she would react, it did not go well
Warning: spelling and grammatical errors
A/N: inspired by @23victoria post “what did you call me” also I figured Y/N put Charles through two TikTok pranks, it’s only fair Charles pulls a prank on her. Same universe as “say it back” and “can you get out?” Also, super sorry if your name is Romina.
Charles was on TikTok because he couldn’t sleep and saw a video where a girl called her boyfriend by the wrong name. He decided to take it upon himself to pull this prank on his girlfriend. He just hopes she doesn’t get angry.
“Muñeco, im getting groceries for dinner, I’ll be back soon!” Y/N calls out.
“Okay, Mon ange.” Charles said, getting off the couch to say goodbye to his girlfriend properly. “I love you.” Charles kissed Y/N.
“I love you too.” Y/N said before leaving. Charles decided to play video games and when he heard the door open 30 minutes later, that’s when he decided to put his plan into action. Y/N was putting the groceries away in the fridge when…
“Hey Romina, what did you buy?” Charles said and Y/N closed the fridge and the bags that were on the counter were long forgotten because she was now in front of the TV.
“What did you say?” Y/N asked.
“I said ‘hey Y/N, what did you buy?’ Are you feeling alright?” Charles asked, pausing his game. He felt so guilty for the gaslighting.
“The hell you did, you just called me Romina. Who the fuck is Romina?” Y/N asked in a louder tone.
“Romina, calm down.” Charles said and that’s when he knew he fucked up.
“First of all, you never tell a woman to calm down, have you learned NOTHING from watching TV or having other girlfriends? Second, you just called me Romina AGAIN! So please, calmly tell me…” Y/N said as she went to their bedroom to get one of her chanclas 🩴 “who the hell is Romina before I become like my mother and beat your ass with this chancla.”
“There’s no need to get violent, Y/N.” Charles said.
“Really? Then tell me why did you call me Romina.” Y/N said.
“It was a prank.” Charles said. “I saw a TikTok of girls calling their boyfriends by the wrong name and I wanted to see how you would react.” Charles confessed shyly.
“You chose THAT prank, specifically THAT one, to pull on me, a girl who has been cheated on before?” Y/N asked rhetorically.
“Yeah, I didn’t think it through actually.” Charles admitted.
“Menso, i was actually gonna hit you.” Y/N said.
“You love me too much to hit me.” Charles said.
“That’s true. Anyway, I have to finish putting the groceries away because someone decided to be a pendejo and prank me. Like why would you prank me? I’m a freaking delight.” Y/N said, walking save to the kitchen
“You pranked me twice, ma Belle!” Charles exclaimed, following her.
“Okay but those were cute pranks, that prank would have ended up with me in jail.” Y/N said, putting the groceries away on the fridge, freezer, and pantry.
“I would never let you go to jail.” Charles said,
“Hey, so while I’m cooking dinner, I’m gonna put on some music, okay.” Y/N said.
“Yeah that’s fine.” Charles said and they kissed. Y/N out her phone on full volume to CUIDADITO by Becky G and Chiquis, singing out loud and specific part.
“Yo no soy celosa pero si eso pasa me transformo en otra. Te poncho las llantas dormirás afuera y esa misma noche le marco a mi suegra para que recoja a la cochinada que un día parió. Te rayo el carro te quiebro los vidrios y voy a llamar a todos mis amigos para que me ayuden que en un pisteada lo arregló yo. Nomas cuidadito con ponerme el cuerno que todo eso lo hago y hasta más me atrevo y no mas te advierto que cuidadito con ponerme el cuerno de la que te salvaste da gracias a dios que nomas fue una broma.” Y/N sung, changing the last two words (which are originally ‘un sueño ’ which means ‘a dream’). I’m not a jealous woman but if that were to happen, I become a different person. I’ll slash your tires, you’ll be sleeping outside, and I’ll call my mother in law that same night to pick up the piece of shit she gave birth to. I’ll key your car, break your windows, and I’ll call my friends so they’ll help me, I’ll handle it in one good beating. If you cheat on me, just be careful because I would do all of that and even more, I’m just warning you to be careful if you cheat on me. You got lucky, thank god it was only just a prank
“Mon ange, what’s that song about?” Charles asked curiously.
“The song is about a women who dreamt that her husband cheated on her. She would have done some crazy shit if he actually cheated her so he’s fucking lucky it was only a dream.” Y/N said with a smile.
“But you sang ‘broma’ and that’s means ‘joke’…” charles said,
“Or prank.” Y/N said,
“You sang that for me?!?” Charles yelled.
“Yes I did so you know, cuidadito.” Y/N warned.
“I Don’t know whether to be scared of you or attracted to you.” Charles confessed and Y/N laughed.
“Both work, mi Amor. You want lomo saltado or tallarines saltado?” Y/N asked.
“Whats the difference?” Charles asked.
“Lomo has French fries and is served with rice, tallarines is pasta.” Y/N said,
“Pasta please.” Charles said,
“Of course, muñeco.” Y/N said, chopping the steak into little strips while humming the music to CUIDADITO and Charles stared at her because he found himself humming too.
“You know I would never cheat on you, right Y/N?” Charles asked just to make sure.
“Of course I know you’d never cheat on me. But the song is so catchy.” Y/N commented and that made Charles feel so much better. He walked up to Y/N and hugged her from behind as she continued to chop the steak, he kissed her shoulder.
“I love you,” Charles said,
“I love you too.” Y/N said,
The End
Hope y’all liked it! A silly little one shot for giggles 🤭
#hispanic reader#latina#hispanic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#f1 x reader#charles leclerc#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic
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The basketball scene foreshadows the love triangle and it's conclusion.
Buck, first of all, doesn't want to go with Eddie- despite him always offering- but goes when Eddie’s attention is seemingly all on Tommy. Deeper meaning: He didn't know he wanted Eddie until someone else had a chance.
He bumps into Tommy first, quite by accident. Tommy doesn't even flinch. He is unbending and unwavering. Buck stumbles into another relationship, with Tommy, who doesn't yield to anything regarding Buck at all.
Then he faces Eddie, who literally says “you ain't getting past me,” before Buck makes it his mission to hit him. And, unlike his bump into Tommy, Buck shoving Eddie was deliberate. He planned it, you could see it in his face, and besides that a foul like that in the game isn't usually an accident anyway (from what I've been told. I'm no sports expert).
And, unlike Tommy, who didn't budge at all, Eddie completely toppled. He completely folded to Buck where Tommy stood firm. Kinda like how Tommy didn't follow Buck's request for the bachelor party theme and Eddie supported Buck? (And literally any other piece of either relationship, that's just the most obvious example).
(There's something to be said about Buck freezing when he realizes what he did though that I haven't figured out yet).
So the plan after Tommy is really interesting. Oliver said Buck would get a love interest he had to work for. (Something something you don't find it, you make it). Since the game already foreshadowed the beginning of BT, it's likely it foreshadowed the beginning of buddie too.
So. Buck will get his feelings realization first and actually pursue Eddie, rather than waiting for Eddie to make a move. Not only will this realization be “I have a crush on Eddie” it will be “I'm in love with Eddie” because of the “you ain't getting past me” line. Once Buck realizes it's Eddie, it's Eddie. That's it for him. It'll take work though, Buck has to grow past the hamster wheel, Eddie has to grieve Shannon, but once they realize what they want- who they want- that's it.
And since Eddie takes off down the court first, he's going to get a realization too, and understand it a lot sooner and a lot more than Buck. But Buck catches up to him, and when they do collide, Eddie's not going to fight it. Buck will confess, and Eddie won't deny it one bit.
#got distracted looking for something in the framing and this happened#its insane actually#911#buddie#evan buckley#eddie diaz#911 abc#9-1-1#s7#7x04#911 meta#buddie meta#we're getting somewhere
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Across the Way
Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike
Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader
Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist
MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies
Word Count: 5.8k
Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.
You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.
More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.
You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.
They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.
Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.
You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.
J >> Bonnie lass!
J >> So glad u texted!!
>> Sorry it took so long lol
Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.
J >> Nah Nah
J >> No worries
J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow
J >> Just to chat
J >> need an excuse to get out of the house
“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.
>> Yeah, come by anytime.
>> totally
>> yea sounds cool
>> rad, man
A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.
>> If you like. You’re always welcome.
Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,
>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf
>> If you want to test for me :)
Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.
~~~
You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.
“Hey, bon.” He grins.
“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”
“Aye.”
You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”
Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.
“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.
Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”
“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”
There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.
“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”
“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.
You tilt your head. “Oh?”
He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”
Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“
“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.
“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?
“Okay.”
You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.
Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.
The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.
As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-
The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?
Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.
“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.
You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”
Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.
Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”
“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”
“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”
They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”
You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”
“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.
You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”
His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”
“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.
“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”
“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”
“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.
Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.
You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”
“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.
“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”
“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.
“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”
Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”
Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.
“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”
“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.
You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.
Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.
Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!
“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.
“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.
You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “
Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”
You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.
You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.
The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.
~~~
The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.
You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.
Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.
Heat.
It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.
It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.
“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”
“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”
“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”
You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.
“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.
You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.
You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.
Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.
“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.
“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.
Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.
“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.
“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”
Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.
“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…
Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”
He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”
“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.
You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.
“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.
Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.
Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”
You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck’ stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.
Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)
You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.
Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!
Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.
“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.
It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.
You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.
“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.
“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.
You nod slowly. “Overheated…”
“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.
“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.
You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-
“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.
You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”
You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”
“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.
You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”
Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.
“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.
“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”
Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”
You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.
If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.
It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.
Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.
“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.
Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”
You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.
Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”
You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.
“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”
He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.
“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”
You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.
Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”
“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.
“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”
You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.
Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”
“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.
You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…” You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”
It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.
“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”
“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”
“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”
Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.
Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”
A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.
Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic
#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#call of duty#cod#ghoap#cod x reader#ghost x reader#soapghost x reader#soap x reader#ghost cod#fem reader#reader has pots#fat reader#plus size reader#reader insert#johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mctavish#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#across the way
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᯽ one more hour • chuuya nakahara
synopsis • you finally find out who chuuya is after months of him lying to you. unfortunately, for chuuya, you’re not the only one that figures out the identity of your boyfriend and that makes you a target.
warnings • intentional lowercase, angst, fem!reader, mild/medium language, verbal arguments, depictions of violence/gore, mentions of guns/knives, depictions of panic/anxiety attacks, hospital setting, mentions of injury/blood, chuuya’s an idiot
wc • 6.2k
a/n • i’ve been in the biggest writing funk. ofc this loser ginger was the one to drag me out of it wiriwiieiwieiqi
“how long did you plan on lying to me for? were you ever going to tell me the truth or were you going to hope i just never figured it out and let me live in complete ignorance?” you pace around the ginormous penthouse you find yourself in for the first time since your relationship with chuuya had started.
that was almost 7 months ago now. you can’t believe the amount of times you’ve almost said ‘i love you’ to the man standing a few feet away from you in just the last month alone. it’s comical, actually. chuuya isn’t even that person to you anymore, you don’t no longer even know who he is. you knew him as this above average guy that was an executive for some sort of multinational conglomerate. the adoptive son of the ceo. some form of a nepo-kid. that’s how you rationalized him being so successful at such a young age.
you didn’t even know he had an ability.
you were delusional to think that this relationship was going so well because you had found the perfect guy. the perfect guy doesn’t lie to you about being a mafioso executive.
you stop pacing. you’re the most idiotic person on this planet. you can’t believe this is your reality.
“god, i cannot believe you hid something like this from me, chuuya. i cannot believe i fell for it.”
you have to give chuuya some credit. while you’ve been pacing and practically yelling at him he has annoyingly kept his composure with a straight face. unfortunately for him, that pissed you off even more. you turn to him finally and stare at the man in silence. his composure doesn’t budge. he gazes back but it’s as if he’s looking right through you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this emotionless before.
you’re desperate now, trying to rationalize your relationship even after finding out he isn’t who you thought he was. because, for better or for worse, even though you haven’t outwardly said the words to him you had, in fact, fallen in love with chuuya nakahara.
you feel your stomach churn and waterline burn, you needed him to say something, anything. “are you just going to stand there like a fucking statue all night? or are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on?”
“how did you find out?” his voice is tight but unfeeling, expressionless and cold.
how frustrating of him. instead of answering your questions he asks one of his own. you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction he clearly wasn’t going to give you. you shouldn’t. but you have a bad habit of reacting before thinking about it fully.
“you attacked the armed detective agency at the hospital i work at? how do you think i found out, chuuya? you know how many times you’ve picked me up from there? just because i don’t work in that wing doesn’t mean my coworkers don’t know who you are. they sent me videos of what happened. i had to pretend that wasn’t you. i almost convinced myself of it.” your breathing is becoming erratic and uneven, only shallow and short breaths escaping you.
chuuya looks to the side as if he’s thinking something over then he looks back to you, gaze unchanged. “so other people know?”
“yeah, i’m sure not everyone believed me that it wasn’t you.” you let out a frustrated sigh, “why does that even matter? you should be focusing on the fact that i know.”
“it matters…” the ginger doesn’t give you any further explanation as he pulls out his phone and starts typing.
you want to pull your hair out. he’s ignoring you almost — actually, you think him ignoring you would be less frustrating. he’s completely dismissing your concerns, questions and feelings on the matter. and now he’s texting someone?
that’s it. you were done with this conversation and you were done with him. maybe for good. you walk away to your belongings. chuuya clearly notices your movement and watches intently as you put your coat back on.
panic finally settles deep within his chest and his voice cracks with desperation as he asks, “where are you going?”
you notice the change and look back at him from the elevator doors. his face is still expressionless, however, your eyes wander down to his gloved hands and take note of the way he’s gripping his phone just a bit too tightly. you shouldn’t, but you give him one last chance to explain himself, he just needs to give you anything to make you stay. it doesn’t need to be big, it could be the most vague explanation. just something enough that you can grasp onto.
“i’m leaving, unless you plan on answering any of my questions?” you look at him with wide and expectant eyes — they’re hopeful even.
chuuya just stands there, again. his bicolored eyes are filled with regret but he keeps his mouth shut. you let yourself sit in the silence that’s been created for a few moments. letting yourself get worked up. he was really willing to let you go, rather than just tell you what’s going on.
you let out a shuddered and wet breath, tears welling up in your eyes and lips trembling. “i didn’t think so…”
with that you leave his apartment with a tight chest and damp cheeks.
that was 4 days ago and it has been radio silence on your end. chuuya tried calling you later that night but you didn’t answer. since then, there has been no further attempts on his end either. you weren’t sure if he was giving you space or still didn’t know how to answer your questions, but you think you’d prefer him blowing up your phone with no answers as opposed to nothing at all. you’ve been crying over a quart of ice cream all afternoon. you felt pathetic, sitting on the couch in pajama shorts and a hoodie of chuuya’s that you’re pretty sure was left behind on purpose.
you lean over to set the now empty ice cream container down on the table of your kotatsu. a whine is heard from your lap and you look down to see your previously sleeping cat glaring up at you with an accusatory look in her eye. your movement had clearly disturbed her umpteenth nap of the day. you look at your little companion with an apologetic smile and pet her as an sorry for moving around so much. the torti is quick to be appeased as she starts purring loudly.
mochi, your cat, was the only thing that got you through this entire debacle. without her, you think you may have let yourself wither away into an empty shell.
mochi’s ears perk up and suddenly she’s on high alert. the cat leaps off of you and investigates something in the kitchen. you hear her hiss and then a sort of bang. your brows furrow and you let out a sigh, thinking about how she probably just made a big mess in the kitchen as she scurries back in the room to hide underneath the kotatsu, bushy tailed and, oddly enough, growling.
you shimmy yourself out from under the warmth of the kotatsu yourself and get up to investigate the mess you probably had to pick up. as you near the kitchen you feel a draft — funny, you distinctly remember closing the window in the kitchen.
᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•
chuuya isn’t even pretending to listen to what’s happening in this meeting. he could feel the concerned gaze he’s getting from kouyou but his nerves are far too shot for him to even pretend to care. all he cares about is you. how you desperately wanted him to open up and be truthful, how betrayed you looked leaving his apartment with tears running down your face, how you wouldn’t answer his phone call that night and how you still hadn’t contacted him to make another attempt at getting him to explain.
chuuya would answer the phone in the middle of this meeting if you called at this very second. he had made up his mind when he finally came to his senses later that night. he always seemed to be one step behind when it came to relationships. being one step behind may be enough to ruin yet another relationship that he cherishes deeply.
the executive can’t comprehend what you’ve done to him. he’s felt on edge since the moment you left the penthouse. his fingers twitch in irritation, his skin crawls, his breath feels constricted. it’s like he’s coming down from a long lasting high. he was having withdrawals. he hasn’t felt this tense and unfocused since he tried to quit smoking a few years back when gin got on his ass about finishing a whole pack in one day.
actually, a cigarette sounded damn good right about now. mori would have a fit though, of course he’s always been a doctor to the core. so, the ginger falls back on tapping his foot incessantly and checking his phone obsessively.
this meeting feels like it’s dragging, time moving in slow motion almost. it’s only been 30 minutes but to chuuya it feels like 30 hours. it’s agonizing to sit here when what he needs is a distraction. a mission where he can let out his frustration on some opposing force. he’s never been one to complain about meetings but it’s never too late to start.
the executive is ready to leave, literally 30 seconds away from standing up and walking out, but then something happens. one of kouyou’s subordinates urgently walks in and makes a beeline for her. an emergency, clearly, because everyone knows not to disturb an exec meeting otherwise.
kouyou’s eyes widen and flit to chuuya. this worried glance is different from her previous ones. it makes the ginger’s blood run cold and hairs stand on end. if he thought he was on edge before — that was nothing compared to this.
kouyou wastes no time in reporting the issue as she shoos her subordinate away. “there was activity from one of our many opposing organizations. my people are working on pinpointing which one but… they broke into and vandalized several apartment buildings in the naka ward…”
kouyou looks at chuuya again. her brows are furrowed in concern, it makes his stomach churn. why is she looking at him like that? what did she even say? chuuya wasn’t focused. he was on the verge of getting up to leave just two minutes ago.
he was going to leave.
he needed a better distraction from his stewing thoughts of you. the longer he sat here the more time he spent thinking about how he should really just show up at your apartment door. surely, you wouldn’t turn him away if he was willing to finally explain things, right?
“they were all within a 2 kilometer radius of the yokohama city minato red cross hospital-“
mori interjects, “you mean the one you all took the liberty of storming while i was ill due to that cannibalism ability?”
if chuuya wasn’t paying attention before, he is now. he thinks a knife to the eye would be better than this. physically: the executive is composed and stoned faced — but internally? chuuya is sinking in his seat wishing he would simply disappear. they’re all used to mori’s snide comments, his tongue always being quick and made of silver. sometimes, like today, his comments hit a little harder.
so, even though they all try to stay composed, chuuya doesn’t miss the way kouyou flinches and once again her eyes flit over to him.
“yes, mori-san, the same hospital…” the woman sounds almost pained as she talks, her internal panic slowly seeping out through the cracks. “most civilians were unharmed… but there were a couple women who were targeted and are now in critical condition at the same hospital. one of them was pronounced dead by the time she got to the hospital.”
mori hums, eyes cutting over to chuuya. “interesting. chuuya, don’t you have a little friend that lives in the same area?”
there it was. the reason kouyou was so concerned and fidgety. chuuya’s heart sinks and stomach drops to his feet. everything unfocuses, his vision going blurry and swirling. the ginger visibly turns pale and his blood runs cold. his whole body twitches, the need to get up and leave far too strong.
chuuya feels physically ill. how had he not thought of you the second kouyou said what ward it was? he was so busy thinking about himself and wallowing in self pity that he didn’t even think to second guess the information he was being fed. kouyou’s glances tell him it was bad too, or worse, she had no information on your status.
this was chuuya’s fault. he has this sinking feeling that you were the target. he should’ve known you weren’t safe when you told him people at your work had connected who he was. he should have been more insistent on talking things out. he should have had you come over to his and stay over until he knew you were safe. hell, he should have at the very least set up a detail in your neighborhood.
this was all his fault.
chuuya abruptly stands up, hands slamming on the table. “i should check on the situation. may i be dismissed, boss?”
“i don’t see why you shouldn’t. report back when you’ve got a handle on…the matter.” mori raises his eyebrows, not bothering to hide his obvious amusement at the executive’s reaction.
chuuya doesn’t notice, he doesn’t even give any of them a second glance as he practically flies out of the room to find the nearest exit to this god forsaken building. he finds an open window and easily hurls himself out of it, using his ability to hurdle himself through the sky. chuuya didn’t even think twice about, maybe, taking a vehicle. his mind was far too muddled to even register what he was doing.
this was all his fault.
he wasn’t looking for practicality right now anyway, he was looking at what would get him there the fastest.
“there” being your apartment. he didn’t want to assume you were attacked. maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part. chuuya makes it to the average looking building in record time — which he’d boast about in any other situation, but now was not the time.
the gravity manipulator is about to circle your apartment to get to the front but notices something odd. the window at the side of your kitchen was wide open. you never did that, you only left it cracked open when you were cooking. chuuya enters your apartment the same way he left the port mafia building: through a window.
what he sees next confirms his deepest fears. he’s had actual nightmares about this — or at least he thinks he has, having never actually been able to dream. but he’s woken up in cold sweats, throat raw from screaming, and a pit in his stomach with you on his mind. this was more like a waking nightmare, he imagines this is what the ones he can’t recall are filled with.
there’s blood on the floor and also splattered across the walls and kitchen utilities. broken kitchenware is scattered across the wooden slats, your oven and fridge are out of place too. an obvious sign of a struggle. you clearly fought back. of course you fought back. chuuya had tried to teach you some self defense but with further observation he had learned that you grew up taking mixed martial arts classes. something about letting out your bad temper in a healthy way.
all the fighting skills in the world couldn’t save you from a bullet though. there was one lodged in your fridge and wall. as chuuya nears the other side of your kitchen he notices the front door is also wide open, two holes in it indicating more shots were set off.
then chuuya sees it. his stomach churns violently, so much so that he almost doubles over and retches at the sight. a trail of blood that ends at the front of your apartment and then…
a bloody handprint.
your bloody handprint.
chuuya would recognize it anywhere. he’s memorized every detail of your hands from the size down to the swirls in your fingerprints. you had to have dragged yourself out of your home for help.
chuuya is glued in place. he feels like his whole world is crumbling around him. the edges of his vision going white as the color falls from his grasp. his ears are ringing, the white noise becoming louder as his mind runs wild.
you weren’t here.
there was so much blood.
the smell of iron stuck to his nostrils.
where were you?
did someone take you to the hospital?
the hospital.
one of the women that was brought there was pronounced dead. even if that wasn’t you… all of the other women were in critical condition. he couldn’t imagine you being okay after seeing the scene laid out before him.
chuuya was going to be sick. a wave of nausea crashes over him. he feels the bile clawing up his throat. he scrambles over to your kitchen sink, almost slipping on your blood. he doesn’t let anything out at first, just gags and dry heaves. then his eyes sting and what little contents he had sitting in his stomach are released. this time he really does vomit.
the executive's breathing is shallow and labored. he looks down to where his hands are gripping the sink and realizes they’re now covered in your blood. he holds them up and his breathing quickens. his stomach churns and he shoves his gloves off. stumbling back as he stares at his trembling hands. it was too much. this was different from all of the gore and violence that comes with being in the port mafia.
it was you, you were in danger and he wasn’t there. he couldn’t help you. he should have been there to help you. he should have kept you safe.
the only thing that brought chuuya back to reality was a high pitched mewl that came from further inside your apartment. chuuya would recognize that little noise anywhere. mochi. he whips around to find the small feline peeking out from under your kotatsu. the orange glow indicating that it was still on. chuuya lets out a sort of wet and shaky breath.
the ginger gently approaches the clearly spooked creature. he’s never been particularly fond of cats but for some reason yours took a liking to him and he couldn’t help but fall head over heels for the torti. much like he couldn’t help the way he fell for her mother. chuuya reaches out a finger and mochi hesitantly sniffs it. her eyes light up at the gravity manipulator’s familiar scent and nudges his finger with her nose.
after getting the clear go ahead from the cat, chuuya leans in and picks her up. the torti nuzzles into him and she was still shaking — or maybe that was chuuya. he reaches down and turns the flammable item off before straightening himself and greet the small feline.
“hey, sweet girl, you scared for your mama too?” chuuya’s voice cracks and he knows he needs to get to the hospital but he feels a little guilty just leaving mochi here in this disaster of an apartment.
chuuya sighs and let’s the torti down. he pulls out his phone and sends out a quick message to kouyou, asking her to send a cleaning crew and to pick up the small creature and take her back to the gravity manipulator’s place. her response is sent mere moments after his own. he doesn’t bother responding.
the ginger strides over to the front door. he makes sure to close it behind him so mochi doesn’t get out then makes a beeline for the hospital.
᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•
”i’m sorry, sir, i pulled up her chart but you aren’t on her contacts list. unfortunately i’m unable to give you any further information.” the patient services rep behind the counter holds firm on her statement by giving the man a tight lipped smile.
chuuya’s bicolored eyes narrow in frustration. he knows, he knows, that the lady is just doing her job but she’s doing it so infuriatingly well. he’s desperate to know your status and his sanity is slowly losing its grip on him, he’s slipping away with each obstacle. as if answering a silent plea, a tap on his shoulder catches his attention.
the executive swivels around and is met with the sweet old lady that lives next door to you. she was always checking in with you. making sure you had enough to eat and were getting enough rest. you once compared her to your own mother, who is no longer with you but even when she was it was nothing like what the older woman does for you. when you introduced the woman to your boyfriend she was awfully judgemental of him at first, she was making sure he was good enough for you. he didn’t think so but apparently your neighbor thought otherwise, seeing something in him he didn’t see himself.
her usual smile is replaced with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. she was frowning at chuuya, something akin to scolding. the ginger felt oddly accosted by the woman standing before him. she’s never looked at him with so much contempt before.
she folds her arms across her chest and she lets out a huff, “what are you doing here, boy?”
chuuya flinches at her tone like she had just physically slapped him in the face. the ability user quickly recovers though, realizing if she was here that would mean…
you had to be here and you had to be alive, if not your neighbor wouldn’t be standing here in front of him scolding him. no, instead her face would be filled with grief. this was a good thing.
you were still alive.
“where is she? i need to see her.” chuuya lets out a breath he’s been subconsciously holding in.
the old lady bristles at his blatant disregard for her own question. “and why should i tell you? y’know, she’s been miserable the last few days because of you? she wouldn’t tell me you were the reason but i could just tell. what did you do to her? is this all your fault?”
chuuya actually takes a step back at her words. he felt like the woman had just punched him in the gut. the older lady packs quite the punch for how small she is, not even standing at 5 feet tall. she’s right, of course, this was all chuuya’s fault.
it was all his fault.
”i didn’t mean to… she was supposed to be safe. i didn’t tell her anything to keep her safe.” he was rambling now, desperation seeping into his voice. “i just need to see her. please, please, ma’am, you have to tell me.”
the old lady falters, her scowl dropping and a pang of pity spreads across her chest. it doesn’t last long though. the implication of chuuya’s response, meaning he did have something to do with the fact you were in emergency surgery and would be in there for a few more hours.
you’d been rushed to the hospital. thanks to your neighbors, you assailants were scared off by the ambulance and police they called. after the first gunshot went off they were quick to make the call.
you were brought in with a plethora of injuries. blunt force trauma to the head, 3 gunshot wounds (2 of which were still lodged inside of you), and several lacerations littering your entire body. all of which resulted in severe blood loss and unfortunately for you, since you weren’t the only one to sustain these kinds of injuries, the hospital was on a low supply of blood by the time you came in.
the old woman is winding up to scold chuuya some more but she’s interrupted by a nurse walking up to her. the woman in scrubs looks exhausted, she must have been in the operating room with you. the nurse also looked worried, she must be a close coworker.
“nakamura-sama? the surgeon wanted to give you an update…” the nurse’s eyes trail over to chuuya and her demeanor goes from concern to nervous, she nods at chuuya quickly, “please excuse us… nakahara-san…”
oh. she knew who he was. had she been one of your coworkers that he knew? chuuya’s guilt grows as he thinks he should remember who this woman is. this was all so frustrating. no one would tell him anything even if they knew who he was. the executive desperately wants to argue, to stand his ground and find out what was going on.
something occurs to him in that very moment. is this how you felt that day? when chuuya wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t tell you anything. shutting himself off. this was some sick and twisted karma. the universe was laughing in the ginger’s face and he only has himself to blame for it.
a man’s voice speaks up, “the boy can stay. now why don’t you tell my wife and i how our dear granddaughter is doing?”
the nurse hesitates, looking to the older woman for guidance. mrs. nakamura squints at her husband for an uncomfortably long moment. however, the older man doesn’t seem bothered at all, he must be used to this type of scrutinizing glare from his wife. if chuuya wasn’t so distracted by your status he would be able to acknowledge that he wants that. he wants a future with you and he may be willing to give anything up for that.
mrs. nakamura clicks her tongue. “fine. the boy can stay.”
the nurse eyes chuuya for another moment before explaining your situation. she explains the injuries you sustained. that you’re still in surgery and probably would be for at least a couple more hours. you were doing surprisingly well, a fighter. of course you are. a warmth pools in the ginger’s chest. it was pride.
“we have hit a small road block. due to the multiple victims being brought in… the blood supply is in the reserves. we have contacted other hospitals in the area and they’ve agreed to deliver us their extra supply. but it’s a process and it may take hours to receive any of it. do any of you know if you’re a match or a universal donor?” the nurse looks at the 3 of them hopefully, her gaze drifting to chuuya more than the other two.
chuuya freezes. he knows that he has type b blood, that’s not the problem. the problem is that he has no idea what your blood type is. he should know that, right? he’s sure you know his, sure you’re in the medical field but it’s common to know your partner's blood type. he should know this.
he should know this.
hanged, drawn and quartered. maybe a firing squad or even the guillotine. chuuya lists the ways he thinks he should be executed in his head. he’s had his head so far up his ass with trying to keep you in the dark about who he is that he hasn't even learned the most basic things about you. does he even know your favorite color? your favorite meal? your favorite song?
this was the most criminal act he’s ever committed and that’s saying something considering the horrific things he’s done for the port mafia. this was bad. unforgivable even. this was all his fault and he couldn’t even tell the damn nurse if he was a match for you or not.
what the fuck.
what the fuck?
what the fuck was wrong with him?
what does he even say? how does he tell the nurse and the old couple standing next to him that he has no idea if he’s a match for you? he supposes he can play it off. plainly state what his blood type is and leave it to the nurse to figure it out. maybe that could work. it would have to, he doesn’t have another choice.
but before chuuya can even open his mouth the older man speaks up first. “i'm a universal donor, young lady. you can take some of my blood, i can’t possibly be using it all, i’m sure i have some to spare.”
the older man tries to lighten the situation as he chuckles at his own joke. his wife isn’t amused and even whacks him on his bicep with the back of her hand while clicking her tongue again. the nurse let’s out an uncomfortable laugh and looks to chuuya one last time. of course she would want to take a donation from a healthy young man.
chuuya shakes his head and hopes to god he’s right when he says, “no, i’m- i’m not a match.”
”i see. mr. and mrs. nakamura, follow me please.”
᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•
your head feels light, like a morning fog had somehow managed to roll in and settle in your mind. everything was so numb and heavy, your entire body felt like lead. you wanted to keep sleeping. you wanted this annoying light behind your eyelids to go away. who the hell left the lights on?
did chuuya forget to turn them off again? why were they so bright? these weren’t your lights at home, they couldn’t be.
where were you?
why did you feel like you got hit by a bus?
most importantly, where was chuuya?
…chuuya…
oh.
you remember now. chuuya was an ass. he told you a sugar coated version of his truth. twisted who he was to fit your ideals even though you had never asked that of him. then he ignored you, refused to tell your anything and left you to the solitary confines of your apartment. and then…
your eyes fly open and you gasp for air. you were assaulted in your own home. someone had broken in and attacked you. they had guns and knives. you were shot.
where were you?
did they take you? no, they were trying to kill you. you’re sure of that. if it hadn’t been for the sirens that scared them away, you’re sure they would have finished you off.
mochi. your poor mochi. she must have been terrified. oh god, they wouldn’t have…she hid right? she was safely under the kotatsu. she had to be unharmed physically. she had to be. you couldn’t be here right now, wherever you were. you had to get home and make sure she was okay.
distantly you hear this annoyingly incessant beeping and… someone's voice? what is it saying? are they speaking to you? your name. they’re calling for you but-
who is it?
no. it wasn’t anything intelligible, it was screaming. it was your screaming. you were screaming. why were you screaming?
a wave of fatigue crashes down on you, drowning you in darkness as you sink back into the depths of slumber.
the next time you wake up, you’re less confused. whatever anesthesia you were previously under obviously had worn off by now. the fog was certainly lifted and you were thinking much clearly now.
you haven’t opened your eyes yet but just by hearing the beeps coming from the monitors next to your bedside, you could piece together you are in the hospital and therefore you are safe. more importantly you’re alive. you try to bring your hand up to rub at your eyes but there’s a weight holding it down.
your brows furrow at the restriction. you stir only slightly, any movement you made right now was agonizing. you let out a grunt as a shooting pain courses through the entirety of your body. this wasn’t good, something like this was going to take a lot of time and physical therapy to recover from.
how frustrating-
“are you awake?” his voice is gruff, filled with exhaustion but it was clear who was speaking to you.
you could pick out his voice from millions others. even worse, his voice never fails to soothe your soul. instantly your body relaxes from whatever tension it’s been managing to hold onto. traitor. you’re supposed to be upset with him. you should yell at him, kick him out.
but… he stayed. he was here, he found you and stayed. how unfair. you’re tired, too tired to deny yourself the comfort he brings you. because despite everything, it’s still him.
you think it will always be him.
so instead of crying or yelling or getting upset you simply give in. “yeah. i’m awake.”
you open your eyes, finally, to look at him. he looks like shit, it would be funny under any other circumstance. his hair is a mess, clearly he had been tug at it, nervously running his fingers through it. his usual under eye bag had bags. the dark circles a stark contrast against his porcelain complexion.
if it weren’t for the fact that you were the one in the hospital bead, you’d think you two were here for him. after you examine him you look at his expression. it’s grim, he looks truly pathetic. you can only describe it as being akin to a wounded puppy.
you let out a sigh but before you can even get another word out, he’s speaking. “i should have told you. i wasn’t thinking about you- i know i wasn’t but i convinced myself i was. i convinced myself that i was keeping you safe by not telling you but- i was a damn fool for that. this is all my-“
”chuuya, shut up.” this was so painful, you didn’t want to hear any of this.
you are tired. you just want him to be there for you. you want him to comfort you. you just want your boyfriend. at this point you couldn’t care less about the bullshit he kept from you. at the end of the day it was his character you’ve fallen in love with and that was more than enough for you.
chuuya looks at you stunned. his words catch in his throat and he thinks he might actually cry. it’s been a while since he’s had the urge to cry like this. was this it? he almost lost you to death. now he was going to lose you in another way and he only had himself to blame.
the ginger can’t even blame you for your decision.
after all, this was all his fault.
“i don’t give a shit about who you are. tell me. don’t tell me. whatever. you found me and you’re here now. i just need you to be here. i-“ you choke on your words, you hadn’t realized but you’d started crying and it hurt. “i love you. i need you to not blame yourself for this because you need to be here for me and show me you can do this. please show me you can do this, i wont ask for anything-“
you can’t finish your thought. your lungs are constricted as you're held in his vice grip. you missed him. god, you missed him so much. his embrace is home. he’s your home and that’s terrifying. despite what you said you still have so much to learn about him. chuuya scares you but only because you feel so incredibly safe with him.
you’ve never had that before and something tells you he’s never had that either.
“i’m here. hell and back, i will always be here for you.” it wasn’t a direct admission but you don’t question it. this is the closest you’ll come to a declaration of love from chuuya for now and you’re okay with that. truthfully, you didn’t expect him to say anything.
you try your best to return the hold chuuya has on you. you get an arm around him loosely and rest your forehead on his shoulder. you’re still crying, like a baby. it would be embarrassing if it was anyone else. his hand is holding your head gingerly. it’s comforting and you manage to calm yourself down. you pull back, still sniffling but eyes no longer producing tears.
your eyebrows furrow, something pressing returning to the forefront of your mind. “did you stop by my apartment? has anyone checked on mochi? is she okay?”
chuuya finally smiles for the first time in what feels like days — it might have actually been days since he last did. he pulls out his phone and produces a picture of the torti that kouyou had sent him. he hands the phone to you and you smile fondly as you let out a small puff of air, relief spreading throughout your chest.
“i asked kouyou to bring her to my apartment for the time being. i think she’s taken a liking to it.”
you look at the picture then back up at chuuya, entirely unamused. “have you seen your apartment. i could fit like five of mine in it? of course she likes it there.”
something warm spreads across chuuya’s entire being. this scene is oddly familiar. reminiscent of the older couple from earlier. this was pure happiness, this is what it felt like.
chuuya was going to make sure to cherish it deeply and keep it safe at all costs.
#chuuya x reader#chuuya angst#bsd x reader#bsd angst#bungo stray dogs x reader#chuuya x you#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x you#chuuya x fem!reader#bsd x fem!reader#bungo stray dogs x fem!reader#bsd chuuya#᯽. banners/dividers made by @/cafekitsune#᯽. éli originals
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would've, could've, should've | aaron hotchner
warning(s): one whole curse word, smoking, stunning amount of fluff and a little bit of action
GIF by @littlecarmine
part one
part two
author's note: Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it! I also want to thank the sweet anon for the ask with the Robert Siken poem, which I included here. Next part will be straight-up filthy smut, so stay tuned, fellow sluts.
Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.
-.-.-
You don’t see much of each other for the next couple of days. Aaron is on autopilot, avoiding any chance to be alone with you. The rest of the team unknowingly act as a buffer and all he has to do is not look at you during work hours, keep the door to his office shut to not hear your laughter.
It’s a relief when you and Morgan are called to testify in court for a case. You’re somewhere far away for the day, where he knows you’re safe and he can go back to pretending nothing has changed.
The problems start when he’s not being kept busy.
How much paperwork can one person do?
The stars align oddly in his favor and he’s into calls or meetings until long after everyone else has gone home. When ten pm rolls around, he finally calls it quits but sees no point in leaving in a hurry. It’s past Jack’s bed time, it’d be cruel to wake him up now and carry him back home when tomorrow’s Sunday. If all goes well, he can pick him in the morning and they’ll get to spend the day together.
His finger is hovering over Jessica’s number when he spots your name in his call logs. It’s silly and childish, but he hasn’t thought of you in a couple of hours and God.
Deep down, he knows he’s been incredibly unfair to you. He had to. Had to tell himself it was something outside of him causing him torment. An obstacle to overcome, a distraction to ignore. He had to act as if you were forcing your way into his life in order to be able to put up walls, but what have you really done except exist near him? He is the one to blame for allowing it to grow beneath his skin; succumbing to his need for some sort of intimacy when he could have -should have- nipped this at the bud a very long time ago. He recognized it within himself the other day, when he realized he could have -should have- kissed you.
But nothing is healed with a kiss. Only new grievances arise.
It’s where you go from there that matters and he finds himself unable to guide or be guided.
Where do you go from here?
When he decides to feed his insomnia with a cup of late-night coffee, he is yet again reminded of you. So, he calls, but you don’t answer and he pours another, completely indifferent to the idea of sleep.
It’s getting too late to be here, even by his standards. He tries calling again, but, no answer. He gathers his stuff to leave and there is a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach when he settles inside the car. It’s only eleven and you always say you never sleep this early.
Another call, this time to Emily, who miraculously, picks up.
“Hello? Hotch?”
There is a deafening buzz in the background; loud voices and music blasting.
Aaron apologizes for the late hour and tries to be discreet when he asks about you. Says he needs to go over something about a case file but you won’t answer his calls and he got worried.
“Yeah, she’s fine, she’s right here with me, but it’s a little hard to get her right now. Is it urgent?”
“Uh, no, don’t bother her. Is everyone else there too?”
“Not everyone, just the two of us, Garcia and Morgan. Do you need them as well?”
You didn’t invite him, why would you? He would have never said yes.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“Sorry, sir, I can’t make out much with all this noise. We’re at the ‘Matter’ if you need us. I’ll tell the guys to call you as soon as they can, okay? Have a good night.”
So, he drives two miles a little before midnight to come sit outside ‘Matter’, which is apparently a very busy nightclub downtown, half a mile away from the nearest parking spot he could find.
He doesn’t really know why he came.
He can’t come in and join you. Can’t ask for you.
They probably wouldn’t even let him in while dressed like this.
It’s very unclear what the next step is.
He knows it’s pointless to call you again when you’re probably too busy dancing and drinking with a great many people who are not him. Morgan has some trouble keeping his hands to himself when he drinks.
He sits on the curb of the street, cracks open the pack of cigarettes he snack out of the car’s glove compartment, always hidden below the insurance papers. Astoundingly loud music plays every time the doors to the club open and people come out stumbling, kissing sloppily and dragging each other away.
He just wants to see you and put this horrible feeling inside him to rest.
“No fucking way.”
He jolts at the sound of your voice and throws away the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe before he turns to see you standing outside the club. You approach timidly until you can be sure it’s him and when you step closer to the streetlight, he can really see you. The clothes you could never wear to work, the shoes you apparently spend all your money on. You’re beautiful.
He can’t possibly move until you’re sat beside him. For the first time in what seems like forever, now that he’s grown so used to it, you keep a very respectable distance between your bodies.
“You didn’t have to throw it away; I already saw you and,” you pick up the abandoned carton from the sidewalk and almost laugh at how immaculate it looks just having been opened, “I have so many questions. Since when do you smoke?”
His voice is quiet, unamused.
“Almost never.”
You look at him curiously and he thinks you would make a great interrogator simply by the way you make everyone around you spill their souls out if it will satisfy you.
“Sometimes when I’m very stressed.”
You hum, “I never would have guessed that.”
He laughs to himself and looks at his hands.
“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of things that are not typical of me lately.”
You help yourself to a cigarette and he cups his hand over yours when the breeze makes it too hard to light up.
“Is that because of me? Am I a bad influence?”
“No. It’s me, I’m the common denominator.”
You hum again and smile at him teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Breakthrough.”
“So, this is what therapy is like?”
He wants to thank you, for always trying to make things as easy as possible for him. You open the door and difficult as it may seem, all he really has to do is walk through it.
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t smoke in session.”
“Oh good.”
You’re sitting closer again and Aaron doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think either of you moved. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, glances at you only from the corner of his eye. Your perfume mingles with the smoke of the cigarette and it’s all a haze to him.
“Why are you not inside?”
“I needed a breath; it was very loud and packed in there… and I finally saw your calls.”
He hums, unable to find anything else to say.
“Why are you here?
“I don’t know.”
He knows that is not a good enough of an answer.
“I always have this terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you.”
Your shoulder touches his and he can admire the smoothness of it, focus on each mark there to avoid the dreaded eye contact.
“Do you think that fear is reasonable, or is it rooted in something else?’
His eyes shut tightly, “Don’t do that, please. Don’t talk to me like I’m a subject.”
“You use your ‘agent tone’ all the time outside of work.”
His voice deepens, “I am aware.”
Heavy breathing.
“I’m sorry I did all that and then backed out at the last minute.”
“It’s alright. I think I knew you would.”
“See, that’s even worse.”
You look at his suit, the wrinkles that have formed in the shirt underneath from the hours of wear.
“Did you come here straight from the office?”
A sigh, “Yeah.”
You nod your head in understanding and move to put out what’s left of the cigarette.
“I’m alright. I’ve got the others too; they’ll take me home. You can relax now.”
“I don’t think I ever can.”
You don’t know what to say really. If what he needs is time, you can give it, but he seems undecided as well when he picks up your hand.
“I think I’m scared of what will happen once the line is crossed.”
A confession.
That, you did not expect.
“Aside from the complications at work, I just,” his hand rubs gently on the spot your watch has left its mark, “I have proved time and time again that I can’t handle any relationship beyond professionalism and once we stop being just colleagues, I will lose you completely from my life.”
“Do you think that line has not been crossed already?”
He laughs quietly.
You can both feel the bouncer looking at you and Aaron is suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now.
“I guess it has.”
You’re both quiet for a little while.
“I have to go back inside now, or they’ll start getting worried.”
He looks like he’s about to say something, but no words leave his mouth.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you were here.”
That hurt. You know it, but what else was there to say?
“Maybe tomorrow you’ll know.”
You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before you leave and he’s left staring while you go back inside.
-.-.-
A little past two, the girls drop you off in a shared cub before going their separate ways and you rush to your apartment building, only to find Aaron waiting there.
“Well, you certainly have a thing for sitting on curbs.”
He looks tired, so tired, and alone in the empty street. It’s very hard to maintain your position when he always looks this beaten down in his most tender moments. You wish to care for him, love him back into happiness but that wouldn’t be fair.
Still, you can’t help but go to him and he is relieved that you sit closer this time.
“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
You softly take his right hand to look at his watch. His body relaxes at the touch.
“Huh.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, but I’m a little more drunk than the last time you saw me.”
Your skin glows under the soft moonlight and he notices.
It is technically tomorrow now.
“How drunk?”
His face moves closer and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden change. His breath is warm on your face. The words come out in a whisper.
“Not that much.”
That’s all it takes.
His lips press against yours once… then twice and then… he doesn’t stop.
You always thought he’d be one to kiss carefully and with absolute purpose, just like he does everything else, but he kisses like a man on fire. He seeks to quench something deep inside of him and you provide happily. The remnants of your lip gloss tingle on his mouth, as if kissing you alone is not enough of an awakening.
It’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with breathing when he envelops you so, and cages you in the pleasant whirl of his scent. When you break away for breath, he’s quick to capture you once more. His hands come to your face to keep you there until he’s had enough, but how he can he ever have enough of you?
He only lets you go because he has to. You’re both practically panting and he can’t decide what to do. He wants to kiss you, look at you, touch you, but it cannot all be done at once. When your own hand comes to his face just below his jawline, he melts under the touch. His eyes are sunken, his body is begging for rest, but it would not come without you.
“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”
His voice is low and breathy when he nods.
“Yeah…”
-.-.-
You walk upstairs, hand in hand, and Aaron can see your own exhaustion is taking over. Something started with that first touch. Your bodies wish only to find comfort near each other.
His breath is warm on your neck while you open the door, his hands softly placed on your waist with the excuse of keeping you steady. When you move to take off your shoes, he is behind you again, as if tied to you with invisible thread, and holds you gently by the elbow when he sees you struggling.
You’re suddenly very aware he is in your house again. Touching you.
“Can I get you anything?”
He shakes his head no, but you’re too focused on the way his hand moves languidly up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before tucking your hair behind your ear.
“Do you need me to get you anything?”
He is so caring. So soft below the austere guise.
“I just need to take a shower,” you almost stumble backward and he thinks it’s the alcohol, but it might just be the feeling of his hands on your face, “I must have fifty different people’s sweat on me right now.”
“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”
His voice is soft – tired.
You turn on the lights for him in the living room and he gives a half-smile when you check on him again.
“I won’t be long.”
Once left alone, he gets to look around your house. He sees your carefully assorted nick-knacks and smiles at the framed pictures all over your bookshelves. He can’t help but notice you’ve chosen one, if not the only, photo of the team that he’s also part of.
He is important to you too.
He can see you in every corner of the room, in the books you buy and the realistic-looking-but-admittedly-fake plants sprinkled here and there for a lack of time to take care of any real ones. He can even see you in the soft material of the couch when he sits and lets his cheek touch the fabric. He has been here before in a dream, with your head in his lap.
The room is awfully quiet save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of running water in the background. For a man that’s usually so good at sitting alone with his thoughts, he suddenly can’t stand it.
He knocks gently on the bathroom door and opens it slowly, only to be hit with the dizzying cloud of warm steam. Your head peeks behind the shower curtain and he can tell you got tired of standing and sat in the tub instead.
“Is it okay if I sit in here with you?”
You thought he’d sit on the toilet seat, but he crawls to the edge of the tub and sits on the bathmat with his back to you.
How close is close enough?
Now that he’s ventured, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied.
So, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the, now warm, porcelain.
“Aaron.”
He doesn’t know if he actually fell asleep, but the water is now turned off and you’re looking at him. He realizes now, for the first time, that you’re naked behind him. Your hair and eyelashes are angelically wet, the sheen of water on your flushed skin is divine. He knows that you’d be warm if he touched you now.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.”
You smile at him -siren- and your hand grabs a handful of his shirt, staining it with water that reaches his body underneath and makes him shiver. You kiss him with plump wet lips and he reaches for you. His hand entangles in your hair until you’re both practically pulling at each other.
A less enamored man would have broken away just to sneak a peek at your bare skin, but he won’t. He is respectful even now, even like this.
“I should have kissed you the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
It’s a whisper when his mouth leaves yours, but you catch it.
You hum, eyes glossy, “Would've, could've, should’ve.”
What matters is now.
He kisses you again – just one more time. You both feel like giddy, lovesick children.
“Can you hand me my bathrobe?”
The bathrobe is also impossibly soft to the touch and when you emerge clad in it, he thinks he’d like to hold you. The spell of the warm steam is broken outside, however, and being so close to your naked body suddenly becomes very serious.
You let him sit in your bed, still fully clothed, save for his suit jacket, and he closes his eyes again. The comforter underneath is lovely.
Is everything in this house soft?
Is this what it feels like to be loved by you?
You disappear inside the walk-in closet and reappear, now properly dressed in your pajamas. The bed dips when you sit next to him and he turns to you completely.
“I have a T-shirt you can sleep in, don’t know about pants though.”
Please. Just be here, with him.
He watches you leave, but it’s not long before you return with the aforementioned shirt. You laugh when he finally realizes he’ll have to sleep in his boxers.
“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”
He throws a teasing look, but can’t possibly come up with a clever answer right now.
“I’ll go dry my hair and you can get dressed, alright?”
You are so gentle with your guidance that it makes him feel like a helpless child, but there’s a hidden relief at that. It’s nice; being cared for like this and there is something to be said about parallels, with you going now to do as you had done a week and a half ago in a Florida hotel and him waiting for you – on your bed.
It’s the same, but it’s different.
He hangs his work clothes carefully on the chair in the corner of your room and goes to sit on the bed, but feels too uncomfortable to climb under the covers. He knows you’d find his duality funny; how he goes from hungrily kissing you to being too embarrassed to join you in bed, even if it’s only for sleep.
You notice his stiffness when you come back in the room, but don’t say anything. It’s not exactly easy for you either, you’re just better at hiding it than he is. You choose to lead by example instead and turn off the lights before reaching for the one on your nightstand and climbing inside your bedding.
He only speaks to deflect attention from him again, “You have a TV in your room.”
“Jealous?”
He turns to look at you and you’re perched up on the plump pillows, smiling at him. Your hand reaches for his own over the comfort and you gently pull him to you.
He comes, of course.
“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”
“Of course you don’t.”
He joins you with his back on the pillows and his shoulder touching yours, but he’s still too stiff.
“What do you watch?”
“Mostly reruns of sitcoms-,” he laughs at that, “-Seinfeld.”
“Isn’t that show a thousand years old?
“You would know.”
He laughs again and you can almost make out a wounded pout on his face, but a kiss is enough of a cure. His shoulders relax and he gives in to the warmth and softness; be it the bed or you next to him. You can tell he’s barely managing to stay awake, but he still can’t let go completely. His head slumps backward again.
“Can we turn it on?”
You find the courage to caress his hair, admiring the softness of it and the discreet sprinkle of grey that you can only see up close.
“If you want.”
The quiet humming of the television and your breath in his ear, putting his mind to ease, are enough for him to finally sleep and you’re not long behind. His head is turned to the side where you are, hand tightly holding yours.
Later in the night, when you stir in your sleep, he pulls you further into him – wraps his arm around you completely and doesn’t let go.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#thomas gibson
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"𝑰𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌?"
summary: just my favourite characters taking care of reader when shes sick
genre: hurt to comfort, full fluff
warnings: reader has a personality similar to me!, fem reader, nothing else, double suicide joke on dazai, silly pedo joke on fyodor
a/n: guys please I am so sick right now I feel sohdghdgdhd if only there was someone who could send me some sakilai selfship stuff/j
"nikolaiiiii" you whine from your bed eyes too teary to reach out wherever he is.
"Ah, my dove, I am coming right now" he shouts from outside of your room running in with a packed box of soup.
Unfortunately because of nikolais amazing cooking skills he failed to make a simple cup of soup. So he decided to order from takeout.And that soup is the food you need to eat right now.
"feed me please..." you state when he placed the bowl of soup and sat down next to you."Dove i think you can feed yous-" you only sniffed and looked at him with teary eyes which instantly made a certain feeling of guilt rise up in his stomach.
"fine then. Guess I will have to take care of my lovely crybaby girlfriend!" nikolai jokes before using taking off his gloves using his teeth and putting them aside, which you always considered a very handsome and hot thing for him to do.
His bare hands pick up the spoon full of soup and vegetables and gently slides it into you mouth, as fragile like a glass doll.
"Also I am not a crybaby! It was an act for you to feed me" you puff to which gogol gasps a bit too dramatically "you pesky silly! Come here daddy's going to punish you kittem" he jokingly says putting the bowl of soup on the bed side.
"HELP nikolai that is not funny! Stop THAT IS NOT FUNNY AT ALL. I am sick!!" you cry out getting out of his way which fails as he lunges towards you and holds you in his grasp
"I was joking! Calm down (name) I just want to hug your germs away." "Those germs will hug you back but okay!"
You sneakily crept up to the fridge before opening it, looking for a tub of icecream before finding it instantly. You reach out to grab it but before your hand can get any closer a hand slams the door shut.
You don't turn around to the figure behind you and swallow a spit, scared of the man's creepy and menacing smile from behind you.
"Now now, isn't my dear supposed to be in bed resting? So I wonder who this woman here is" his sarcastic voice rings in your ears as you slowly turn around.
"Fedya hahaha what are you doing here ahaha aren't you supposed to work?" you nervosuly laugh before you start coughing again, more ferocious this time.
His cruel and irritated shade hovering his eyes become more soft and tendor as he picked you up over his shoulders like a pack of potatoes and carried you to the bedroom.
"Fyodor? Since when did you become s-augh augh strong-?" you asked clearly shocked at his sudden romantic move.
"Say that again I am giving medieval style treatment." "WH- wait how do you know medieval tre--"
Before you could finish your sentence, he throws you on the bed in the gentlest way before sitting down next to you and grabbing a medicine.
"please tell me it's not those swallow pills. I hate them like you everyone in Yokohama hates you" you pout but he only glares at you for a second.
"I mean- I love you hahaha, you know" you laugh it off and look at his nail bitten fingers elegantly take the spoon of the liquid and holds it up to you lips.
"ew that looks like pink vomit" you get away from the spoon infront of you. "(name) I didn't ditch my work for this, it feels like I am taking care of a child rather then my significant other."
"you do know you will counted as a pedophile if i am a child right" you teas him, grinning trying to make him forget about the medicine.
"(name)" his voice is colder than your cold and you only look at him with puppy glistening eyes. "can.. can you feed me with you mouth? a sickly kiss?" you ask innocently.
"you are already sick fedya, please?" he only sighs at your statement, knowing it's stupid and silly to argue with you.
He takes the medicine in his mouth and pulls you closer to push it in. It tastes bitter, but his lips make it sweet. It only lasts a moment but cures the starving feeling in your heart.
He pulls away as you swallow the liquid before tucking your self under the covers and giggling like a school girl.
"sigh,,,please don't eat anything cold, your sickness will only worsen. Take your pills daily and I will send some chocolates later, okay? Don't be too much of a hassle"
"Bellllaaaaaa, i got you your favourite food!" his voice soothes out like a lullaby to your ears as you rise up from your bed and rush towards him.
"zai-zai!" But before you could say anything your head starts spinning and everything seems dizzy.
He keeps the bag of food on the table before rushing to catch you. "WOAH bella, can't have you spinning to death now can we! You told me if you had to die you wanted to die with me! Together"
He says picking you up bridal style and laughing at the swirls in your eyes. "i am here feeling like I just hot down from some Rollercoaster and your here joking? I swear to god dazai this is why you can't pull hoes"
"why would you say that bella? You pull germs" he pouts like a child but was probably smirking inside at his cheeky remark.
"You little manwh-" "shhh lets eat soem chocolate cheesecake shall we?" he places you on the side of your bed and brings the packets of cakes and slowly lays it down infront of you.
You sick and tired looking eyes glow up. "I want the cheesecake!" you announce to him as dazai laughs before opening the packet and taking a spoonful of the desert before motioning you to open your mouth.
He feeds you it whole slowly, which you only giggle "i didnt new yuo weer so living, dezai" you mumble chewing on the contents.
"finish your food first bella, then you can compliment your amazing BOYFRIEND HAHAHA" he laughs before getting up to clear up the packets.
While he does that you snuggle up to your bed before coughing for a while. "come join me, love" you motion him which your boyfriend does as he lays himself next to you
"Oh my bella, I hope you get well soon I can't wait to kiss you and hug you and maybe even fall off the bridge with you!"
You moved away from the camera turning on the record button and started dancing to the choreography of 'detention' by melanie martinez which by the way you should actually check out.
However as you were swifting your movements according to the dance you heard a Click and ran to you bed, but you only had a second to choose a sleep position before yosano can come.
"(name) I am not that stupid." she opens the door to enter the room as she looks at your pretend sleeping position.
"You can just dance hystericaly while you have a bad cold and have iron cells lesser than than the literacy rate in japan" your girlfriends scolding hits you hard so you decided to get up, what's the point.
"As much as i wish i could see more of you dancing" she continues, "You need to get better for it, I dont want you fainting once again like yesterday.
"who knew you could joke" you whine out. Yosano takes a chair and takes a place beside you. "I am not that serious, love. Now let me check your fever."
She takes off her gloves and presses her hand on your forehead. "Hmm, you have long way to fully recover" her voice is much softer than when she was scolding you.
"huhhh, that's not fair...i dont want to be bedridden for soooo long :(" your eyes start looking teary again, nose red from the heavy coughing from when she was taking care of you last night.
she sighs, "awhh my baby, there there. This is why I told you to take the medicines. But you didn't listen did you" you look up to her eyes glossy like a child who needs to be cared.
She kisses your forehead before getting up.
"I wish I could kiss your cold away however it won't work like that instead I will cook you your favourite chicken soup for you okay?"
a/n: man i hate my hoarse throat aughhhh I want fedya to take care of me rn *cough cough*
Divider crds: @anitalenia go check her blog NOW
Tags: @little-miss-chaoss @terururuko @inojuuy @biscuits-tragic-diner
#bungou stray dogs#sakiras writing notebook!!!#Bsd fic#Bsd fanfic#Bsd drabbles#Bsd x reader#Bsd x female reader#Bsd x you#Nikolai x you#nikolai x reader#nikolai gogol x you#Nikolai gogol x reader#Nikolai fluff#Fyodor x reader#Dazai x reader#Dazai Osamu x reader#Dazai bsd x reader#Osamu dazai x reader#Dazai x you#fyodor dostoevsky bsd#bungo stray dogs x reader#Fyodor fluff#fyodor dostoevsky x you#fyodor dostoevsky x reader#yosano x reader#yosano bsd#Yosano akiko x reader
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