#YOU need to do better so THEY can do better
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nerd! konig who gets partnered with the class bimbo, and she doesn’t want to do any of the work. she gives him a pussy job so he can do all the work for her
he ends up begging her to let him put in the tip…but nerd!konig gets carried away by the warmth of her wet cunt that he rams his fat cock in her poor tight hole:( he would get all pussy drunk and not even bother pulling out…
seriously, you shouldn’t have expected any of it to be enough for him. your plan was to make him cum by rubbing your wet pussy along his neglected cock in return for a good grade on what’s probably the most important assignment of the semester; a favor for a favor. but you felt bad for him, letting him convince you with glossy eyes that the tip would satisfy him, that he wouldn’t bother you again after that. you were flattered, even, believing him when he said his dick hurts so much, it just needs to be inside you.
the feeling of your tight, gummy entrance clinging to the tip of his cock like it doesn’t want him to leave is addicting, and his craving to have more of you is almost instant. he tries, he really does, his hands shaky and breathing heavy as he fucks the head of his meaty dick in and out of your tiny hole. the squelching sounds coming from your sloppy cunt make him lightheaded, his pre oozing inside of you until you’re all messy with both of your juices. he loses all composure, burying into you to the hilt, his heavy balls smacking against your stretched out cunt. you gasp in surprise at the sudden fullness, and he’s spewing out broken apologies and curses through whimpers and grunts. he lifts you by your ass to pull you closer, humping into your tight, warm heat.
he’s all cross-eyed and dumb, glasses fogging up. your warnings to pull out are ignored. in fact, the thought of pumping his load into abused your cervix is intoxicating, and eventually sends him over the edge. he hides his face in the crook of your neck out of embarrassment, groaning long and high-pitched into your ear. he doesn’t stop cumming for a while, fucking it deep inside of you. he’s pent up from the many nights he’s spent dreaming about this, how many times you’ve left his dick sore and aching from the slightest touches. when he finally pulls out from overstimulation, none of his cum follows, all stuffed inside you. and that’s enough to instantly make him hard all over again.
you better get a good grade after this.
#bella writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#konig cod#könig x fem!reader#konig x reader#konig call of duty#konig x you#könig cod#könig x reader#konig smut#konig x y/n#könig call of duty#könig fanfiction#könig x you#könig smut#könig mw2#könig x y/n#könig#konig#nerd!könig
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can we possibly get the one where Gideon doesn’t like bombshell reader and poor Spencer is watching like☹️
Spencer feels a little like a child of divorce. Like, he absolutely is a child of divorce, but he didn’t think he’d feel this way at work. Lately, all Hotch and Gideon do is argue.
It’s especially odd in that Hotch doesn’t usually go against Gideon’s judgement, even when he doesn’t agree, but you seem to be something Hotch is willing to fight for, and Spencer has no idea why.
“We don’t need her,” Gideon says. Spencer knows it isn’t Gideon being cruel, just stern. “We have a fine team without her.”
“But with her, we’re better. And we have an opening. I know you like Greenaway for it, and I do too–”
“Everyone likes Greenaway for the position, she’s more palatable than L/N, and she works harder.”
Spencer tries not to whip his face back and forth like he’s following a ping pong ball, but it’s hard to keep up. He has no idea what his mentor’s talking about in all honesty, you’d seemed more than palatable when you met him last week. You were nice. And barely anybody is nice to Spencer.
You sounded like you actually wanted to hear him talk, something Gideon has often been alone in. And palatable is a subjective word.
“That’s not necessarily true,” Hotch says, knowing he’s losing.
“We’re not gonna rush into picking someone,” Gideon says, less stern, more neutral.
“No. I have invited her to the Georgia consultation this afternoon.”
Gideon sighs through his nose. The afternoon rolls around quickly. Spencer doesn’t want to think about it but he’s excited to see you, and he feels conflicted in that; Gideon is the first person in a long time who actually seems to care about him, so Spencer is guilty of always aiming to please, but he can’t understand why Gideon dislikes you so much. Am I being easily led? he wonders.
He’ll admit to finding you attractive. In his head, that is. You’d spoken so particularly, you’d looked stunning, and you didn’t make a fuss when he wouldn’t shake your hand. You called him beautiful.
It’s the nicest, kindest attention he’s had since he started. Morgan calls him pretty boy. Spencer knows it’s not the same thing.
They gather in the conference room, Morgan, Hotch, Gideon and Spencer, just a few minutes before 2PM. A minute later, you’re knocking on the door.
“Hello…” You smile when you realise they’re here. “Am I late?”
“No, L/N. Come and take a seat,” Hotch says.
There’s a plastering of documents on the table and an empty seat by both Morgan and Spencer. You choose the one beside Spencer despite a stack of manilla folders, tucking your chair in neatly. “Oh, the grizzly stuff. This will upset my feminine energy.”
Morgan laughs. Gideon glares at the table.
Spencer likes it when you’re around. One more person and suddenly the consultation is a conversation and not a debate. You can keep up with everyone. You laugh at Spencer occasionally and he doesn’t know why, but he can tell it isn’t cruel laughter; he’s had a long time to work out the difference.
Gideon excuses himself for a coffee half an hour in.
Hotch immediately leans across the table. “I’m trying to help you,” he says.
You grimace. “What am I doing wrong now?”
“The laughing.”
“You laugh.”
“I know.” Hotch smiles at you. “You’re getting good at this, you have good insight on the dark triad. You read the book I sent?”
“How’s Haley?” you ask.
He shakes his head, but his smile stays. “Don’t joke about that.”
You’re not flirting. Or, Spencer doesn’t think so. It’s more likely you’re joking as Hotch says, everything about your body language pointing to amicable friendliness besides your flirting tones. “I read the book,” you say. Your gaze turns to Spencer. “Bet you’ve read it too, huh? Morgan said you’ve read every book ever written.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Spencer says.
“But close?” you ask. “I’d love some recommendations. You know. For profiling.”
“Don’t let her fool you, Reid, she’s well read,” Morgan says.
“Wait, Gideon doesn’t like you because you laugh?” Spencer asks.
It’s a socially inept thing to say, he realises after. You lean back in your chair all sweet and soft with your legs crossed, your dark stockings thin at the knees. He’s so, so worried you’re going to be offended and that’s exactly what he needs, a possible friend isolated again by his inability to read the room, but you don’t chew him out. You nudge his leg gently with the toe of your heel.
“Now who said he doesn’t like me, handsome?” you ask teasingly.
Spencer regrets the heat that floods his face and neck.
“It’s complicated,” you add, your smile more than friendly, Spencer can’t work it out. “But don’t worry, I’ll turn him around eventually. It’s one of my many talents.”
Oh, he thinks. That’s what it is. Spencer’s finally in on the joke.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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Anthony Bridgerton x reader
summary: telling Anthony she's with child after facing difficulties getting pregnant
It's been three years since the wedding between Anthony Bridgerton and Y/n. The love between the two was one of the strongest anyone could have ever seen, it was obvious that they were made for each other.
They met in a very unusual way. While Anthony was courting Edwina Sharma, Y/n was seen very close to Benedict, the two of them discreetly courting each other. However, they both quickly realized that the connection between them was better as a friendship than a romantic relationship, where things seemed quite forced and uncomfortable. At the same time, Viscount Bridgerton had also broken up with Edwina after she had doubts on their wedding day.
Y/n remembered that day perfectly. She was sitting next to Benedict and the Bridgerton family on the chairs waiting for Edwina to appear and the wedding to begin. She waved a fan, trying to alleviate the horrible heat in that room. The delay seemed to make everyone nervous, especially Anthony who had drops of sweat falling from his forehead and was speaking hurriedly to his mother.
Finally, the doors opened, but, to everyone's surprise, it wasn't Edwina walking down the aisle, it was Kate Sharma, her sister. She didn't look happy, walking with an air of confidence and a serious expression, her eyes never leaving Anthony. The two exchanged quick words, until Anthony dropped his head and closed his eyes in frustration, but he still nodded and Kate left.
After a few tense seconds, Anthony finally had the courage to look at the people watching the scene and said that the wedding had been cancelled, before leaving the room too, leaving the murmur that formed.
"What a scandal." a lady gossiped with another, the two starting a conversation about what could have happened, some theories being completely ridiculous and that could ruin the family's reputation.
Y/n couldn't help herself and turned to them with a polite but sarcastic smile. "My apologies for interrupting, but the only scandal here is the fact that your son, who decided to be a priest, got so many prostitutes pregnant that only they could fill an entire line of these."
The woman gasped in horror while Benedict, who was listening to the conversation, had difficulty containing his laughter. "You foolish girl, how dare—"
"Excuse me, but I have better things to do than sit here and imagine what could have happened." Y/n got up from her chair, looking at the women one last time before going to try and find Anthony.
Despite being acquaintances, since Y/n was so close to Benedict, the two had never spoken much. However, the woman was still worried about Viscount. When she found him, sitting on the porch floor with his head in his hands, Y/n kept him company, also sitting in silence. From then on, a relationship was formed between the two that quickly became inseparable.
"My love, daydreaming again?" Anthony hummed, breaking Y/n out of his thoughts. The man wrapped his shoulders around her waist and pulled her closer, gently kissing her head. "What are you thinking about?"
"How lucky I am."
"Well, I'm the lucky one. I have a beautiful wife who I love very much. I couldn't live without you." he confessed, causing a blush to appear on her cheeks as it always did when he pronounced his love for her. "I have to go finish some paperwork, but then I'll come see you so we can go visit Daphne's son."
Y/n nodded, giving him a quick kiss and sighing as she watched him go to his office. Daphne had just had her second child, a beautiful baby boy. The couple was going to visit the family so that Y/n could help with whatever her sister-in-law needed while Anthony and Simon were going to entertain the baby's brother, a toodler who demanded a lot of attention.
Even though Y/n loved their children with all her heart, it only reminded her of what she couldn't give Anthony. The couple had been trying to get pregnant since they got married, but without success. Anthony's wife had already cried on his shoulder many times because she couldn't carry the child, her heart breaking every time she started her period.
Even though the Bridgerton man assured her several times that all he needed to be happy was her, Y/n still wanted to give him a heir. She wanted the house to be full of their children's laughter and for them to be able to create a mini version of them, a product of their love.
However, he tried not to occupy his days thinking solely about that. It was enough of all the doctors she had seen who told her that it was her fault, that her womb was not capable of developing a baby. Of course, Anthony, as soon as he heard those accusations and the look of complete heartbreak from his wife, demanded that they leave his house.
Y/n she couldn't take the blame anymore, going into a state of shock and for three days she refused to get out of bed. However, her husband would not accept that. He just wanted her to be happy, even if they never had children.
"We don't need children to be happy, I only need you. We have so many nieces and nephews who can take on my role, and we can take care of them from time to time, I'm sure my siblings wouldn't mind." Y/n remembered Anthony telling her this firmly, his hands grabbing her cheeks as they both had tears in their eyes.
And since then, they've never brought it up again.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
"Lady Bridgerton, are you feeling alright?" one of the maids asked worriedly when she saw Y/n enter the dining room for breakfast, immediately turning paler when she smelled the eggs. "Should I fetch for Viscount Bridgerton?"
She had time to shake her head before running to the nearest bathroom, dropping herself onto the cold floor and emptying the contents of her stomach. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, gagging at the sour taste that remained in her mouth. With unsteady legs, she got up and went to wash her mouth, the maids who entered the bathroom right after her helped her to hold herself upright.
However, she quickly realized that she wasn't finished yet when a new wave of nausea consumed her and she knelt again in front of the toilet. She felt strong hands, which she recognized as Anthony's, caress her face before grabbing her hair.
"Oh, Anthony…" she moaned in discomfort. "I don't want you to see me like this."
"Hey, none of that. Come here, love." he comforted, helping turn her around and supporting her against the wall when she was finished. He took a towel and started wiping her mouth.
When Y/n had the strength to open her eyes, she saw her husband's face analyzing her closely, looking for anything that could be wrong. The concern that swam in his eyes made her raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, and he turned slightly to be able to give her a lingering kiss on her palm.
"How are you feeling? I'm going to call the doctor. Are you okay with staying with one of the maids until I get back?"
Y/n held his arm, preventing him from getting up. "No, please don't go. I'm alright now. If this continues, I promise you can call the doctor, this is probably an one time thing. Let's not worry about it."
Anthony sighed, locked in a staring contest with the most important woman in his life. Accepting defeat, but with a serious look that screamed that if that happened again she would see a doctor, the Viscount picked up Y/n, carrying her to their bed.
Laying her down gently and helping Y/n take off her dress, the man pulled the covers up, making sure she was comfortable. Afterwards, he took off his shirt and pants, lying down next to her.
"What are you doing? We can't be in bed already, especially you. It's only morning, we still have many obligations to fulfill."
"No. My wife is not feeling well, and I'm going to take care of her. The paperwork can wait, as well as all my meetings. I just want you to be healthy." Anthony brought her closer to him, Y/n resting her head on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. "Now, sleep. You need it."
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
It happened again. More specifically, two more times Y/n threw up her meals. The first time, she was alone and not wanting to worry anyone, she preferred to remain silent. After all, she could still be recovering from some kind of illness. The second time, it was in the presence of her most trusted maid, who she considered a friend, Joanne. And so she begged her not to tell the Bridgerton man about it, claiming she would see someone.
Alone, because in addition to feeling sick, she also realized that her period, which was always regular, should have already arrived. Her first thought was that she was pregnant. But upon thinking better, she questioned this possibility. After so many years of trying and failing, why would she be pregnant now? There must be another explanation.
However, she did not share these possibilities with Anthony because the last thing she wanted was to give him hope only to end up disappointed with her inability to give him a heir. Fortunately, Joanne accompanied her, helping Y/n explain to the doctor why the Viscount wasn't there with her.
And when she left that office, she could feel her legs losing strength. She placed a hand on her chest, starting to find it difficult to breathe in completely, still shocked by what the doctor had said to her.
Pregnant.
She was carrying Anthony's child in her womb, something they thought to be impossible. She was going to be a mother. Even though Anthony always assured her that he was completely happy with just her, Y/n knew that he would love being a father. At the beginning of their marriage, he had revealed to her that he dreamed of their family, their chhildren running through the garden while he chased after them and Y/n watched while sitting under the shade, her hand on her swollen belly.
And, by a miracle, this dream could become reality.
"Lady Bridgerton, are you ready to return to the mansion?" Joanne questioned after Y/n sat down in the carriage, her hands shaking together in her lap. Her gaze was understanding, in case she needed a few more moments alone to process this, but her lips held a small smile.
"I'm going to be a mother." she whispered.
"A wonderful, beautiful mother, I'm sure. Congratulations, Lady Bridgerton." she smiled, feeling enormous happiness for Y/n. She knew how much the couple had suffered. "Shall we return?"
Y/n nodded, no longer trusting her voice to speak. The woman took advantage of the short trip to process everything that was happening and before she knew it she was already in front of Anthony's office door.
With barely controlled excitement, she knocked on the door, waiting for permission to enter. When she heard Anthony's voice, she timidly opened the door, seeing that her husband was gathered with his brothers.
"Oh, my apologies. I didn't know your brothers were here. I can come back later."
"Nonsense, love. They can just leave." Anthony said, leaning back in his chair and opening his arms, an invitation for Y/n to come to him. The man, after already having Y/n in his arms, looked at Benedict and Collin, who were looking at him with a smirk. "Did you not hear? I told you to leave."
"Anthony, be nice!"
"It's not a problem, Y/n, we know when we are not wanted. Come on, Benedict, let's leave the lovebirds alone." Collin teased, getting up with his brother and leaving the room, but first, he took Y/n's hand and brought it to his lips. Benedict, for instance, kissed her cheek in a brotherly way. Despite their farewell with Y/n, Anthony was completely ignored by his brothers.
"Did you need something?" the man asked, putting all of his attention on Y/n, who began to fidget with her fingers nervously.
"Actually, I have to tell you something. I went to the doctor today…"
"What? Y/n, why didn't you tell me? Did you feel bad again? Nauseous? What did the doctor say? Are you okay?"
"Calm down, my love. I'm better than fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about being sick again, but I didn't want to worry you." she admitted, feeling guilty that Anthony was feeling precisely what she didn't want. "Well, I received some very interesting news."
"Please, just tell me what's wrong. I can't bear not knowing if something is wrong with you." he muttered with a pained look, as if he felt physical pain when thinking about the possibility of Y/n being hurt or unwell.
"Anthony…" she said his name with so much love that he shuddered. "I'm pregnant."
A silence formed in the room. Anthony took so long to react, just looking at her intensely as if he didn't know what was true or not, that Y/n began to feel worry invade her system. Was he not happy? Did he not want a child with her anymore?
"W-What?" Anthony finally managed to whisper, his heart having stopped as soon as he heard those words. "You're pregnant? With my child?"
"Well, obviously." Y/n rolled her eyes. "Are you happy?"
"Happy? My love, I'm more than happy. I love you so much. And I love our child too." the man kissed her fiercely, needing to convey all his love and adoration for her in that kiss.
He was addicted to his wife's lips, and now that he knew she was carrying his child, something animalistic was released inside him. Without giving any warning, he grabbed Y/n and twirled her around, without ever taking his lips off hers. Even so, Y/n giggled against them, circling her hands around his neck and holding on tight.
When her feet touched the floor, the Viscount knelt in front of her, his hands resting hesitantly on her stomach. He looked at Y/n in permission, who just nodded in encouragement and placed her hand on his brown hair, stroking his scalp.
Very gently, Anthony kissed his wife's still flat stomach. "Hello, you. I'm your father and I love you and your mother very much. You two are my entire life."
And the two stayed like that for the rest of the day, moving to the bedroom where Anthony continued to talk to Y/n's belly while exchanging passionate kisses with her. A beautiful new stage had begun in their lives, and they couldn't wait to meet their heir.
#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x you#bridgerton imagine#collin bridgerton#daphne bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x y/n#anthony bridgerton x female reader
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roommates ; lando norris + part one
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!
“You’re kidding me.”
Max is standing in front of you, he can barely withhold his laugh. You can see the first signs of his laugh by the way his mouth corners are up. You’re not focused on your brother and his stupid laugh, you’re focused on his best friend. Lando Norris, who’s holding out his hand to you with a silver key in it. You can only hope that this is some sort of prank, but it doesn’t seem like it.
“No,” Max tells you, “We’re getting renovations and the backup apartment only has two bedrooms.”
“I can sleep on the couch?” You offer hopeless.
“Lando has a room for you,” your brother replies, “and he’s barely home, so what’s the big deal?”
“He’s Lando,” you sigh annoyed.
Lando has been silent before, but this time he speaks up as well. Almost annoyed he grunts, “He’s standing here. You should be grateful instead of acting like a -” “Lando,” Max is quick to interrupt him. Now that Lando thinks back about the words he was going to say, maybe it’s better that Max interrupted him. Calling you a brat who needs to get laid, by him, wouldn’t make him more popular by you. Oops.
“See,” you say with an annoyed look at Lando, “I’ll book a hotel because this is the worst idea ever.”
“You’re going to live in a hotel room in Monaco for a good month or two?” Max asks you surprised, “I’m not paying for that.”
“Babygirl,” Lando starts. You try to silence him with a angry glance, but it doesn’t work. Since the last couple weeks he keeps calling you babygirl, princess or some other terrible nickname. You can’t get him to stop. “I’ll behave,” Lando continues.
“See?” Max asks you with the same tone you used with him earlier.
“Until you beg me to misbeha-”
“Lando for fucks sake,” Max grunts while interrupting his friend again. “I told you it was a bad idea for you to be included in this conversation, you’re only making things worse.”
Lando finally gets the hint and walks away from the room, leaving Max and you alone to talk about all of this. When he’s standing in the hallway, he can’t help himself to stay close by the door. Maybe he can hear something of what you’re saying. In the mean time he looks at his phone, he notices multiple new messages on different platforms. When he opens a couple snaps he’s greeted with nudes from girls he barely recognizes, sometimes with the question when they will see him again. It annoys him. There aren’t many girls who understand that a one night stand is for only one night. He ignores the snaps.
“Max you can’t expect me to live with him,” you tell your brother angrily, “He’s a literal man whore. I will probably stay awake every night that he’s home because he always brings some girl with him.”
“I bet that if you ask him to be a bit more quiet, he’ll do so,” Max disagrees with you.
“Still,” you sigh, “We don’t like each other. Lando and I aren’t friends like the two of you. We’re always arguing.”
“Why don’t you like Lando?” Max asks you, “I mean, you’re often the one who starts with the arguments.”
“That’s now!” You quickly defend yourself, “Earlier it was always Lando who started things. Whenever you left he would always tease me with something.”
Max doesn’t reply this time. You continue to whine about living with Lando. “Can’t you live with Lando? I’m sure Kelly would like it if I’m taking your place.” This time Max chuckles, but he still shakes his head.
“I don’t have another solution then this,” Max tells you eventually. He doesn’t tell you that Lando begged him to let you stay at his place during the renovations. Max also doesn’t tell you that he probably can rent you another apartment for a while, or could have found a place for himself, Kelly, Penelope and you. Lando owns him a lot after this.
“Am I really going to live with Lando?”
“Just for a while,” Max replies with a small smile. It seems like you finally agreed.
Lando is smiling even more on the other side of the door. He’s glad that he’s standing here and hears this. His plan worked. At least, the first step of like a billion steps worked out for him. When he hands you his keys five minutes later, the smile is still plastered on his face.
+++
“We need some ground rules.”
Lando looks away from the street in front of him to throw a short look at you. The two of you are sitting in his car, much to your disliking. He waited at Max his place until you were done with packing so he could take you with him. While packing your stuff, you kept wondering why you decided to live with Max in Monaco, since it caused this drama.
“Ground rules babygirl?” Lando asks you. He tries to focus on the road again, but he feels distracted with you this close next to him.
“Rule one, no more calling me babygirl,” you mutter annoyed.
“Nope,” Lando is quick to answer.
Before you can say anything else, Lando speaks up again. “Let’s talk about your rules later, I’m trying to focus on driving.”
“Didn’t know that a formula one driver had trouble with normal car driving,” you mutter.
Lando laughs softly. You’re without a doubt the most annoying girl he knows, but he wants nothing more then to make you his annoying girl. That can’t be good. It really can’t be. You on the other hand aren’t laughing, you’re still annoyed by everything that happened and is going to happen. You try to distract yourself by wondering about Lando his apartment: how would it look? You expect it to be all manly. Probably no decor, only formula one stuff and more like that.
When Lando parks his car in an underground garage, he’s quick to tell you about how things work in the apartment complex. “If you want, you can park your car here as well,” he tells you after giving a whole explanation about getting in the garage after hours.
“I don’t have a car,” you tell Lando, “I always used one of Max’s.”
“Oh, you can use one of mine then if you need a car,” Lando simply states without even thinking about it. You don’t know what to say. When looking at the multiple cars that are parked on spots that match with Lando his apartment number, you can only wonder what they cost. He is really offering you to use his expensive cars whenever you like? “I’ll show you where the keys are later,” Lando continues, “you don’t have to ask if you want to use them.”
“You’re kidding right?” You ask surprised. Lando is already shocking you. Normally the two of you are always bickering, mostly because of you, so it doesn’t make any sense to you that he’s offering something big like this.
“No babygirl,” he replies, “you can use every one of them.”
“Even your McLaren?” You ask while looking at the special McLaren that Lando owns.
“Even the McLaren.”
You can’t stop yourself and grin. This is a nice thing. Max is always really protective over his cars, certainly the ones who mean a bit more to him or were more expensive. Lando doesn’t seem to care as much. You already can’t wait to try his cars.
Together with Lando you use the elevator to get to his floor. You’re getting more curious about Lando his apartment. Lando on the other hand is thinking about something else. He wonders about how you will be in his apartment. Since Max told him about those renovations, he couldn’t help himself and kept imagining living together with you. Seeing it as his big chance to finally show you that he’s not some little boy anymore and maybe to connect a bit more with you. He hopes that he finally can make sure that you get to know the real him. But he doesn’t have a plan for that yet.
When Lando opens the door and drags your suitcase inside with him, you feel the reality of the situations washing over you. This is it. You’re really living with Lando for now. It feels weird. Lando and you have a complicated past. It’s not as bad as it was before, but you do have a strong opinion about him. And it’s not a positive one.
You remember all those discussions between Lando and you. The times he teased you until you exploded at him. Or the times you started it and made him crazy. Before it could be simple, but when Lando started his ‘fuck boy era’ - at least, that’s how you call it, you’re even more annoyed by him. Every time he comes over he seems to have some sort of story about a random girl who landed in his bed. It annoys you.
“So, what do you think?” Lando pulls you out of your thoughts. Slowly you walk inside his apartment. It’s big. Even bigger then you already expected. About the other things you were kinda right. The interior is nice, but it seems basic. He probably called a specialist once, who made sure he has a nice interior. It’s not bad, but it’s not personal. You miss the simple personal touches. It feels a bit stoic.
“Looks good,” you tell Lando.
“And now your honest opinion?” Lando sees right through you.
“It’s nice,” you say before being honest, “but I miss the personal touches.”
Lando smirks. “Maybe you can take care of that one day,” he jokes. Or better said, he says it like it’s a joke but he would love it if you would actually make his apartment more homey. But you can start with being here.
“Let me show you the rest,” Lando tells you. He grabs your arm and takes you with him. You’re surprised by the way he searches physical contact with you. Even more surprised with the way it feels. Lando shows you the apartment. You’re quick to find out which room has a few personal touches, his game room. If you should call it that at least. Multiple helmets and trophies are standing in shelves leaning on the walls.
Lando doesn’t give you a lot of time to look around at his personal belongings. The same thing happens with his own bedroom. You can barely see his bed and then he closes the door again. He takes you with you to the bathroom, before finally showing you the guest bedroom.
“Think this is okay?” He asks you a bit nervous. You don’t notice the nervous tone in his voice. Slowly you look around in the guest room. It seems nice. There’s plenty room for all your stuff and the bed seems pretty comfortable. You even spot some fresh flowers on the bedside table. Did Lando get those? You can’t imagine it, it must be the doing of his cleaner or something.
Lando sees the way you look at the fresh flowers. He wonders what you’re thinking right now. You probably don’t think that he has bought them himself. He knew beforehand that if you would move in with him, that it would happen today. So earlier this morning he went to the flower shop to get some fresh flowers for your room. Hoping it would make you feel a bit more at home. He doesn’t tell you that he bought them. You probably won’t believe him anyway.
“Yeah,” you reply to Lando earlier question, “this is fine.”
“I hope you don’t snore,” Lando jokes, “the walls are thin.”
“Then I hope you don’t take a girl with you every night,” you throw back.
“Jealous?” Lando questions you with a raised eyebrow.
“All though, I don’t think I’ll hear the girl much,” you continue, “You’re probably more concerned about your own pleasure.”
“Fucking hell babygirl,” Lando grunts annoyed, “Just wait until you find out how concerned I am about your pleasure.”
You try to withhold any sort of reaction to be shown. Inside you’re going crazy. Lando always makes remarks that are a bit on the bold side, but he never made them this sexual. Fuck. You can’t think about stuff like this.
“That brings me back to my earlier statement, we need some rules,” you tell Lando.
“I need rules in my own home?” He asks you surprised. Of course he knew this was coming, but after your remarks Lando isn’t making this easy for you.
“Yes,” you sigh, “because otherwise we’re going to fight every day.”
“Maybe I like that,” Lando continues to annoy you.
You let out a sigh. Lando lets out a soft chuckle. It’s so easy to tease you. He knows he should stop, but you know what they say, right? Boys always tease the girls they like the most. He walks back to the living room with you and offers you something to drink before getting on the couch next to you.
“What rules do you suggest, babygirl?” He then asks you.
“One, no more calling me babygirl,” you tell him just as you did earlier today.
“Nope,” Lando states, it’s the same answer he gave you the first time. You don’t react to his no, you continue with the rest of your rules.
“Rule number two, I don’t want to meet every other girl you bring here,” you say.
“Afraid you’d get jealous?” Lando asks you teasingly. He can only hope that it’s like that, but he knows better. You’re not jealous of those girls. He understands this rule, it would be a mess if he needed to explain to every girl why you’re living with him and that you’re not his girlfriend. Plus, maybe he should stop bringing this many girls to his apartment. His phone is blowing up by the ones who he gave his number, a lot of them expect something more - while he made clear it would be a one time thing. And maybe, really maybe, it’s not fair for those girls that he uses them to forget about you for a bit.
Some stupid plan that doesn’t even work anyways. Every time a girl is laying underneath him, he can only imagine that it’s you. He wonders how it would feel when it was actually you. How you would sound. There have been many girls, but he thinks about the same girl every time. You.
“That’s okay,” Lando responds to your rule, “I’ll try.”
You nod satisfied. “And maybe you can also tone it down a bit with the sexual remarks towards me?” You ask him after your succes.
“No, no,” Lando quickly replies, “I want to say to you what I think.”
You roll your eyes, but don’t say anything else on the subject. “How do you want to do this Lando?” You ask him eventually. “Do you want to live together or next to each other? Want to have dinner together or? I really don’t know how this can work.”
“Let’s try to live together,” Lando tells you hopefully, “We can have dinner together and inform each other a bit about when we’re home or not.”
“Sure?” You ask surprised. You expected him to chose the other option.
“Sure babygirl.”
+++
That evening the two of you decided that Lando could have a cheat day with his healthy diet. Together you ordered some take out.
“Remember when you DM’ed this girl to get McDonalds with you,” you tease when Lando offers to order some McDonalds. He sends you an angry glare. “She didn’t seem to interested,” you continue to tease.
“Are you going to eat McDonalds with me or not?” Lando asks you annoyed, “because otherwise I’ll find a girl who will.”
After eating together, you decided to test out the bathroom by taking a shower. When you walk in nothing more then a small towel wrapped around your body back to your bedroom, you decide that you will unpack and organize tomorrow. For now you only need to find something to sleep in. You rummage through your bagage, but there’s no pyjama in sight. Fuck. Clothes are quickly scattered around on the bedroom floor.
“Fuck,” you mutter.
You wonder if Lando has something you can wear for tonight, tomorrow you can get your other stuff. In nothing more then a towel on your body, you walk out of your room and start to search for Lando. You hold the towel closely to your body, not wanting to flash Lando. He isn’t in the living room or kitchen, you continue to search. When you hear noises coming out of his game room, you softly knock on the door.
“Lando?” You ask while knocking again.
In no time the door is opened. Lando is standing in front of you. You feel a bit distracted when you look at Lando. In some weird way you can’t stop looking at him. The earlier hoodie he was wearing has made place for a white blouse. It suits him. He looks so fine. Fuck.
“Can I borrow one of your shirts?” You ask him.
Lando doesn’t know what to think, or what to say, or what to do. His eyes are glued on the towel that’s wrapped around your body. Is it really the only thing you’re wearing right now? He can’t even think or function properly right now. He can’t look away from your almost bare body. Fuck, he already knows what he’s thinking about the next couple times while trying to orgasm. Your body looks even better then he already thought. He notices your curves and the way the towel accentuates them even more.
“Did you hear me?” It’s your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts.
“Oh no sorry,” he quickly mutters. He tries to look you in the eyes, but his eyes keep hanging on your body. He focusses on your breasts which are almost in his sight. It’s not hard to miss that you’re a bit cold, your nipples are coming through the towel.
“I wondered if you have something for me to sleep in?” You ask Lando again, surprised he didn’t hear you the first time. “I forgot my pajamas at home.”
“Of course,” Lando quickly replies. He takes you with him to his bedroom and searches through his closet for a bit. When he found a particular shirt, he’s quick to hand it to you. It’s not a coincidence that he chose a shirt with his name all over it. He hopes he’s going to see you into it. Within seconds you have left him alone again.
Lando sighs and walks back to the other room. This is going to be hard for him, but he can only hope that he’ll manage to win your heart eventually. When his phone vibrates, he quickly looks at it.
Max: Explain how I’m FaceTiming with Y/N and seeing her in one of your shirts already???
writers note ; don't really know yet how i'm going to write this one, so every idea is welcome :) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! ps; i changed the playlist link to a new one
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris imagine#ln4#formula one#f1#lando norris imagines#roommates
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Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?
[large text: Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?]
(TLDR: no. literally no.)
A frequent topic that shows up around facial differences is the self-hatred, self-disgust, self-insert-negative-emotion that we must surely experience. I want to ask* writers without FDs - why? Why do you feel about us in such a way that that's the most common way of depicting us?
*- rhetorical question. I promise I know the answers, but I'm not sure if writers do.
It's frankly worrying to me. Is it really that common to assume that disabled people have this internal, never-ending hatred for themselves? The overwhelming majority of us don't. We hate inaccessibility, when people stare, or some symptoms when they get in the way, or how expensive being disabled is, but I find the concept of us being so completely disturbed by our own disabilities extremely strange. It’s “tragedy porn” intersecting “most basic ableism”.
“But trauma!”
[large text: “But trauma!”]
Trauma of what! People with facial differences don't have some sort of default trauma that we come with like it’s a factory setting. We are a group of people with tens of thousands of stories and experiences!
“Trauma of experiencing ableism/disfiguremisia” - that's better, at least this means something. If you're writing a story about this, please get a sensitivity reader with a facial difference. You can assume how we feel all you want, but in my experience these assumptions are often bizarre and unrealistic. Or just end up writing the same “disability so sad” sob story that everyone has seen a billion times. If you want to write about disfiguremisia, you need to understand the nuance and have more than just the basic level knowledge (which 99% of people don’t have either). If you can’t do that, don’t write about it. Simple as that.
“Trauma of the accident” - thankfully, the accident is an event and a facial difference is a disability. If you want to connect these two like they're one and the same, you're almost surely going to demonize disability.
People with traumatic spinal cord injuries, acquired amputees, people with TBI, people with acquired facial differences - we participate in our communities, we have hobbies, we date, we play with our dogs. Disability isn't a death sentence. Media who make it feel like it is certainly don't help people who do suddenly become disabled, don't you think?
Here's a post by @blindbeta about blind characters becoming blind through trauma that’s better made than anything I could hope to write here. I heavily recommend giving it a read.
And, I can't stress this enough - most of us didn't have “the accident”, most of us are born like this! "Traumatic scars" isn't the only facial difference that exists, far from it, it's only one of thousands. It's 99% of our representation and "representation". If you want to make a character with FD - please consider that we aren't a monolith. Just like not all physical disabilities are "wheelchair user with paralysis", not all facial differences are "traumatic scar with somehow no nerve damage".
The overrepresentation of it is incredibly telling, and sometimes - or very frequently - feels like the writer doesn’t actually even want to deal with us. They want to use our disability as a way to cheap drama, moral metaphors, tragic backstories. Not to represent us as living people who are much more similar to you than you apparently think.
Now, I do have enough awareness to know that that's a big part of the appeal. “Horrific Thing #2456 happens” and boom, instant drama! Of course, it's a reasonable response that they would hide their disability for years, avoid talking about it in any way, and magically change their personality to be mean and reclusive, or at least be constantly soooo sad about how much it sucks to be disabled, right?
Do I really need to say that having your character becoming disabled be the worst thing ever is ableism 101? We have been talking about this for so long at this point. Writing about the process of adapting to a specific disability is better left to people who have actual experience in it.
To give an example that will hopefully resonate more with Tumblr users, I will use the fact that I'm also gay. It's not perfect by any means but probably much more familiar territory.
Imagine, let's say, a character. He's gay. The story he's in is supposedly progressive, certainly not trying to be homophobic. The character has experienced an incident, maybe an act of aggression or a hate crime, that happened because he’s gay, which was traumatic. Happens IRL, sure. So of course the character starts hating being gay. He talks about how gross and disgusting it is, he never lets anyone know that he could be “one of them”, certainly not take a stance against homophobia. You can't mention him without mentioning the accident, they're seemingly fused together. No gay love, joy, even basic happiness, he would actually choose to be straight in a heartbeat if given the option to and complains that he can't. This is shown as a neutral, obvious thing that a gay man would do, no one comments on it. He stays like this the whole time, unless there’s a plot twist in the last 10 pages where the world is now magically perfect ("we fixed discrimination, yay!"). This is the only LGBT character in the story.
Keep in mind that there are people similar to this in real life, living with extreme internalized homophobia.
Is this, in your opinion, realistic and thoughtful representation? How does it feel when written by a cishet writer, versus a gay writer who is recalling his experiences? Do you think that it's reasonable for the majority of media representation to be like this, or very close to it? How would it affect younger gay people who might already be uncomfortable with being queer? Are gay men the target audience, or are they not even considered as a group of people who read books? Is this helping or damaging the general public's idea of how it is to be gay? Why or why not?
The Masterpiece
[large text: The Masterpiece]
From 13 to 19 of May, we are celebrating Face Equality week (what a coincidence!). It’s important to me in general - and I wish it was more important to abled people, but I digress - especially its theme for this year.
“My Face is a Masterpiece”
Great statement, it represents the community well, I do enjoy how bold it is. Very cool stuff, I love the work our advocates are doing!
But why do I bring this up?
Well, to very non-subtly show that we aren’t a self-hating group of people. We are a community, a community saying “our faces are beautiful, look!”, we are saying “treat us equally, and do it now!”. Our activism isn’t about self-disgust. It’s about fighting your-disgust.
Why can’t writers keep up? Why are you still stuck decades behind?
Is this the only reason I bring it up?
The Call to Celebration
[large text: The Call to Celebration]
FEI, the org behind organizing it, asks a very simple question (emphasis mine):
“Why do we so often see stories about facial difference as a ‘tragedy’, when they should be about triumph?”
“Calling all artists, allies, creatives, galleries.
You can rewrite the story to bring about #FaceEquality and celebrate the unique artistry found in every face. Your participation this #FaceEqualityWeek will help to tell the real story, that there is a masterpiece in every face.”
Here. We are calling for you to stop. Directly from the biggest international advocacy alliance group that's out there. If you create, this is for you.
The last argument to not have your character with a facial difference hate themselves? Because we don’t want this. We are tired and frustrated. For me personally, I’m also offended by this kind of assumption. We aren’t tragedies or cheap entertainment for abled people to pity or be horrified by. We are people, and if you can’t internalize that, you have no reason to write about us.
For once, celebrate us. Happy Face Equality Week!
mod Sasza
#mod sasza#face difference#ableism#disfiguremisia#face equality week#my face is a masterpiece#writing guide#writing help#writeblr#writing resources#writing advice#writing tips#writing characters#how to write#writing disabled characters#writing disability
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The Hero and Hope (Part 2/4)
(part 1) (part 3)
The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.
“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”
“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”
Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”
“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie - says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”
“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”
You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”
“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”
You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”
“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.
“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.
You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.
“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”
“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.
You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”
Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”
You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”
“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”
“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”
“I still don’t think—”
“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”
“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”
“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”
“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”
“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”
Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.
You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.
The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!
It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.
After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.
Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”
“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.
“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”
“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”
“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”
“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.
Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”
“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”
“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”
“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”
“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”
“Just horned rabbits.”
“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”
You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”
Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”
“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”
“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”
“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”
Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”
Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”
Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”
You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game. “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”
“What do you mean ‘lately?’”
“The past month.”
Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.
“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”
Your eyes widen. “No.”
“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”
Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”
“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”
The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.
By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.
The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.
At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?
After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.
Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.
“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.
You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”
She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.
“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.
You make a low questioning noise in your throat.
“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”
Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”
She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.
You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.
-----------------------.
(part 1) (part 3)
Thanks for reading! The full story is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you'd like to support me, please consider checking out my page!
This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!
#my writing#the hero and hope#second person#multi part fic#short story#kind of#the total piece is 20k words
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needy ellie that loves your tits so much
she needs to fuck them?
ellie williams x fem! reader!
cw; +18 content! minors dni!!, dove fucking (r! receiving), oral sex (e! receiving), face fucking (r! receiving), praise kink, use of good girl, cursing, cum play, cum eating, nipple and tit play, begging…
she’s kissing at them, tongue out as she laps at your nipples, long cold fingers groping at the fat of your tits in need, in hunger.
“perfect fucking tits.” she’d mutter, her pupils wide. “love your tits so much baby.” you’d tug at her hair, moaning at her touch and kisses. “want to fuck them so bad…” she muttered against your skin, a bruise on the swell of your breast.
you sighed, your back arching and mind reeling at the thought of her fucking your chest. “do it.” you breathed out, and her green fern eyes locked onto yours.
“yeah?” she inquired, her tongue drawing circles on your nipple, teasing you.
“yeah.” you whimpered. “fuck my tits, el.” she was quick to move then, taking off her tank top —leaving her beautiful and perky tits exposed to your hungry eyes— and getting on her knees, her fingers breaching her briefs to pull them down her lean thighs and throwing them onto the floor of your bedroom. she straddled you, making her way up to your chest until her mound stood right in front of you, her slick folds making your mouth water.
“you like it? like to see how wet you’ve got me?” two of her fingers came in between her thighs to part her folds and give you a better view of the mess her cunt had become. you moaned, nodding.
“want it on me, want you to come on me.” you bit down on your lip, arching your back in an attempt to bring her closer to your tits.
“yeah? you want me to cum on those pretty tits of yours baby? make a mess out of you?” you nodded.
“yes, please…” you sweetly begged, making her groan as her pussy pulsed.
“now, how can i say no to you when you ask for it like that?” you sighed at the feeling of her slick smearing itself on your chest as she sat on it, with a grunt snapping her hips against your breasts, moaning as her clit caught against one of your nipples. “fuuuck baby.” she sighed as she started to slowly rock her hips against you, sweet wet smacks of her cunt against your skin filling the room and your ears.
your hands came up to her own chest, playing with her tits, knowing how sensitive they were. the auburn haired moaned, her hands coming up to yours, squeezing them. you whined at the sight, needy to taste her, to make her feel good.
“use me.” you begged. she looked down at you. “please, use me.”
“you want me to use you, pretty?” you nodded, one of her hands coming down to your jaw, her thumb on your bottom lip. “then why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm? wanna ride your face for a little.” you were quick to pull out your tongue, showing it to her, eager for a taste. “look at you, so fucking needy…” she smirked, moving up slightly to take a seat on your mouth, moaning at the warmth, at the wetness… “good girl…” she breathily said, rocking her hips, fucking your face and mouth. “good fucking girl, fuck.” she cursed, her free hand coming to your hair as the other incited you to massage her breast, what you happily did as you sucked on her clit.
you hummed against her pussy, slurping up her juices, your tongue sliding in between her folds just to then wrap your lips around her clit and suck. over and over again, making her whimper, moan, groan and shiver… anything you could get out of her you’d get.
you’d stare up into her eyes through your eyelashes, doe pretty eyes hungry to please her.
she hissed when she felt that warmth spreading on her lower stomach, getting away from your mouth, hearing you whine in response. “i wanna cum on your chest, baby. cream up your pretty little tits.” she hushed you, getting back to her previous seat in your breasts, crashing her clit against your skin and nipples. “shit. feels so good… gonna cum so hard on you, princess.” she moaned, her rhythm becoming sloppier, losing consistency. your other hand came to her free breast, tweaking the nipple, the stimulation finally making her reach her peak, making her moan, grunt and huff as she came all over your chest, her cum spreading all over your shiny skin. once she had came down from her high she got off of you to kiss you, deeply tasting herself from your mouth before her lips would trail her way down your neck to your slicked chest.
“what are you doing?” you moaned, your back arching as her lips sucked on your nipples, her tongue cleaning up her cum from your breasts. a smirk showed on her plush lips before she answered to your question.
“licking you clean.”
#ellie#ellie x you#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie smut#ellie x y/n#ellie williams fan fiction#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams x f! reader#ellie williams x fem!reader#ellie williams x reader smut#ellie williams x fem reader#ellie williams x y/n#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou imagine#tlou smut#tlou fluff#tlou2
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Jawbreaker
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky put a mouthy rookie in his place.
Word Count: Over 800
Warnings: Established relationship, mention of injury, misogyny, punching, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes defending you (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: I'm dedicating this to @whisperlullaby , who got to read this in advance, because she deserves this man (along with the rest of you). ❤️Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
A small part of Bucky felt bad as he idly wiped his hand with a towel. A very small part.
He didn’t want people to fear him because of his past and he refused to let it define him. That meant that he tried his best to avoid violent tactics unless absolutely necessary.
But today, well, fuck that. The fucker had it coming.
Steve stood in front of him, his blue eyes narrowed as he waited for his best friend to acknowledge him.
Oh, Bucky expected some sort of reprimand, but he was sure Steve would change his tune in a minute or so.
“You gonna ask me what happened, punk, or glare at me until I talk?” He asked, tossing the towel away.
The blonde huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t look amused. “Why did you break that rookie’s jaw?”
Bucky tilted his head. “What’s the phrase? He fucked around and found out.”
You would’ve been proud of him for that reference.
Steve shook his head when Sam burst out laughing a few feet away. “Sam, please,” he begged, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What did the guy do?”
A bitter taste flooded Bucky’s mouth as anger coursed through his veins again. He inhaled as he thought of your sweet smile and soft touch before he exhaled, the storm inside of him calming.
“Buck, you gotta tell us something,” Steve urged, needing some sort of information to try and do some damage control.
The brunette straightened up to look his friend in the eyes, wanting him to see the fury beneath the cold mask. “He told my girl to throw an apron on and get back in the kitchen when she went to spar.”
You, one of the most capable agents Bucky had ever known.
You, who had shown nothing but kindness to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it.
The person Bucky was lucky enough to call his other half. His better half.
And some asshole rookie had the gall to treat you as if you didn’t belong there with the rest of them.
Sam was no longer laughing. Steve’s jaw clenched in understanding.
Bucky swallowed, that fury threatening to surface again as he remembered the hurt that filled your eyes at the comment. “You know I’d support anything she wants to do, whether that’s working or staying at home. It doesn’t give some prick the right to make her feel bad for her decision.”
“You know I don’t like bullies, but breaking his jaw?” Steve questioned. The guy deserved it, but did the punishment actually fit the crime?
“When she walked away, he said to come back when she was ready to see what a real man could do for her,” he said, the words coming out like a snarl.
The way you tensed up, fear and disgust flickering on your face, he didn’t think. A switch inside of him went off and he swung.
The fucker was lucky that all he got was a broken jaw. He could’ve done so much worse.
And it wasn’t that you couldn’t defend yourself because you could, but you shouldn’t have to put up with garbage like that.
A cracking sound echoed in the room before he realized he crushed the armrest of his seat. “Fuck. I’ll pay for that,” he mumbled, kicking a bit of the broken piece with his boot. “Can you just tell me how much trouble I’m in so I can get back to my girl?”
He didn’t care if he they suspended or even fired him as long as he got back to you.
The room stayed silent before Sam mused, “Technically, what the rookie did counts as harassment.”
Steve nodded. “And I’m sure Nat can persuade him not to sue for the injury he received,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take care of it, Buck. Just. No more breaking jaws, okay?”
“When it comes to my girl, I make no promises,” Bucky smiled, his heart racing at the thought of you. “And maybe he’ll think twice before he opens his mouth again.”
“The damage you did, I don’t think he can open his mouth at all,” Sam mumbled.
Bucky’s phone went off before he could comment, his heart swelling as he read your text. He had to bite back a groan, too.
“Thank you again, Jawbreaker. I love you and I’ll be on my knees waiting for you.”
You wanted to thank him not just with words, but with your body and heart. It all belonged to him, like he belonged to you.
And he didn’t need to tell Steve and Sam what the message said since it was just for the two of you. “Love you, too, baby. Nothing to thank me for, but I’m on my way. Be ready.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Maybe we'll see how you "thank" Bucky down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes headcanon#bucky barnes fanfiction#james buchanan barnes#sebastian stan#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#the winter soldier#bucky barnes fanfic#x reader#sebastian stan x reader#james barnes x reader#bucky fanfic
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ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao
HOW JEALOUS IS HE? — [BLUE LOCK]
characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku
content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral)
notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigami’s character arc, nagi is taller than reader
most jealous: bachira, rin, reo
bachira meguru ✶
bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those he’s close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesn’t want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship
bachira gets really clingy when he’s jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachira’s shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exit
itoshi rin ✶
an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while he’s very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though he’ll never admit it. he’s not the most expressive or the most patient, and he’s sure that there are better partners for you out there.
when rin’s jealous, it’s a silent but deadly thing. like when he’s locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his ‘competitor’ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, “what the hell do you want, you mediocrity?” usually the other person backs off after seeing rin’s bone-chilling glare but if they’re bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. it’s probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier
mikage reo ✶
we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so it’s safe to say that he’s definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, he’s thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life.
reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance — hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. it’s a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black card
less jealous: isagi, kunigami, sae
isagi yoichi ✶
he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it a lot. he’s pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesn’t mean that he isn’t jealous
when isagi is jealous, he’s sulky. he won’t take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as ‘wet-cat pathetic’ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he can’t help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the cream
kunigami rensuke ✶
i debated where to put kunigami since there are ‘two sides’ to him — pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. he’s not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more ‘villainous’ role in soccer, he won’t cross that line in your relationship. he’s still very secure in you and himself, but he’s more protective of your relationship. definitely a ‘i trust you/us but it’s other people i’m worried about’ kind of guy
when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he won’t act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. it’s 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesn’t work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person away
itoshi sae ✶
i thought about putting sae in the ‘most jealous’ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because he’s sees them as so beneath him, he can’t be bothered half the time to do anything since they’re simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when it’s people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletes
when he’s jealous, sae literally just pretends they don’t exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare — the only acknowledgment of their existence — and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesn’t work, sae doesn’t shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person
least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael
nagi seishiro ✶
simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagi’s height is already intimidating enough for most people so they don’t approach you when they see you two together but that isn’t a deterrent to everyone
when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesn’t help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, “can we go yet? why are you still talking to them?”
oliver aiku ✶
sigh… oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows he’s the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and let’s it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, he’ll intervene if it’s making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourself
when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. he’s friendly towards the other person and but it’s not hard to uncover that it’s all fake, whether it’s from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply. he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (“haruya? haruki? oh! you’re haruto! right, right, you know, they’ve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?”)
michael kaiser ✶
kaiser in german literally means ‘emperor,’ and it’s no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that he’s not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes
when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if there’s one thing about him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, “liebling, you’re very charitable to entertain this insect, but it’s time to end this ruse.”
#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#bachira meguru x reader#itoshi rin x reader#mikage reo x reader#bachira x reader#itoshi x reader#rin x reader#reo x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi x reader#kunigami rensuke x reader#kunigami x reader#itoshi sae x reader#sae x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi x reader#oliver aiku x reader#aiku x reader#michael kaiser x reader#kaiser x reader#blue lock headcanons#blue lock scenarios#blue lock imagines
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𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊!
Part 2 of `` 𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ``
· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ ` ` well isn’t it the conciquences of my own actions! ` ` ⊹ ‧₊˚
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ After heartbreak, Y/N decides she’s done with rich men in Formula One. Well, that’s what she thought at first. Besides, what better way to get back at your ex that does competitive sports than to get with his main rival?
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader, Ex!Max Verstappen x Reader
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ୨୧ Mentions of Jos and some slut shaming (not saying directly)
𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ oh how i love this sorta trope. Will be working on one more request!
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y/n.l/n ✔︎
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, roscoelovescoco and others
y/n.l/n tante y/n spending time with her favorite nephew while mom and dad are out on date day 🩷 (also met a new friend(s) while on a walk🫣!)
tagged ; lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco
3,218 comments
charles_leclerc ✔︎ fatherhood is tiring 😞
→ y/n.l/n ✔︎ i will gladly take leo off your hands 🤗🤗
→ charles_leclerc ✔︎ no thank you!!
alexandrasaintmleux the prettiest 🩷
→ y/n.l/n ✔︎ says you 🥹🫶
→ charles_leclerc ✔︎ am i interrupting something..?
→ y/n.l/n ✔︎ yes you are actually
lewishamilton ✔︎ great seeing you!
y/n.l/n you ✔︎ as well! sorry for stopping your run! 😭
lewishamilton ✔︎ no need to worry! it was fun catching up 👊
landonorris ✔︎ “interuppted your run” uh huh… 😏
roscoelovescoco should have brought snacks
username1 LEO LECLERC!! 🗣️ 🔥
→ username2 leo *SAINT-MLEUX leclerc
username3 TANTE Y/N!!
→ username4 she can be my aunt anytime
→ username5 i’m tired of this @ username4.
username6 ROSCOE MENTION
username7 the lewis hamilton tag??? 🤨
→ username8 NO BECAUSE WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS??
→ username9 call me delusional but what if lewis and y/n get together 🤭🤭
→ username10 yeah you’re delusional!!
→ username11 i mean… considering they both live in monaco and it’s break right now for f1… i wouldn't be surprised if they start getting friendly
username12 her outfit is so 😍😍
lewishamilton ✔︎
📍 Monaco
liked by kimi.antonelli, tommyhilfiger, irinashayk, and others
lewishamilton fun day out 📸
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username13 lewis serving as usual 🥱
username14 UHM…. SIR LEWIS CARL DAVIDSON HAMILTON… WHO IS THAT WOMAN?
→ username15 based off how she dresses and who he recently met, it has to be y/n no way it’s some other girl.
landonorris ✔︎ a new missus??? 🤔
→ username16 tell us what you know @ landonorris.
→ username17 this is a threat @ landonorris
→ username18 stalk lewis @ landonorris
→ landonorris fucking hell guys let me live i’m as lost as you 😞😞🙏
username19 the y/n and lewis collab was something i did NOT know I needed….
username20 we lost him ladies 😞😞👊
→ username21 lost him??? nah we lost HER
y/n.l/n ✔︎ too fun!
Liked by lewishamilton
→ lewishamilton favorite part was when you fell in the water 🤣
→ y/n.l/n ✔︎ we promised to not talk about that…
username22 what do you guys know about y/namilton post y/nstappen breakup??
→ username23 bro thinks lewis hamilton will get with max verstappens ex 💀
y/n.l/n ✔︎
📍 Monte Carlo, Monaco
liked by lewishamilton, rebeccadonalson, maxverstappen1 and others
y/n.l/n rest and relaxation ☕️ 🌞
3,210 comments
username24 my girl knew the assignment
→ username25 and got graded a 8/8 🤭🤭
lewishamilton ✔︎ oh wow 😍
lewishamilton ✔︎ the prettiest girl in the world 💫
→ y/n.l/n ✔︎ oh?? 😳
→ username26 UHMM…
→ username27 lewis… i don’t think you know you’re on your main…
→ username28 lewis’s comment isn’t wrong she knew how good she looked 😫
→ username29 PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD???
→ username30 OKAY WE SEE YOU SHOOTING THE SHOTS
HAMMY
→ username31 HAMMY??? 😭😭
username32 the max like???
username33 the way she’s so much more happy now with all the max drama subsiding :(
username34 great now she’s moving on from one driver to another 🙄
→ username35 honestly! i’m suprised no one called her out on that.
→ username36 champion hopper 😂
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lewishamilton 🩶
tagged ; y/n.l/n
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y/n.l/n ✔︎ mwah mwah 😽
→ lewishamilton ✔︎ ❤️
→ landonorris ✔︎ yuck.
→ carlosainz55 ✔︎ don’t worry guys lando is just jealous.
→ landonorris ✔︎ jealous??? as if
→ landonorris ✔︎ okay maybe a bit.
username37 IS THIS THE HARD LAUNCH??🫣
username38 I KNEW THEY ALREADY KISSED BUT DAMN
username39 THEY DIDN’T EASE INTO IT 💀
username40 LEWIS AND YN SAID “fuck the soft launch” 😭😭
username41 Rip max verstappen pre-y/n breakup, you would have loved this baddie…
→ username42 @ username41 nah max didn’t fight for their relationship he doesn’t deserve y/n in her hottie era
→ username43 @ username42 YOU SPEAK THE TRUTH!!
username22 WTF DID I SAY @ username23
→ username23 i plead the fifth.
alexandrasaintmleux écoute ici, petite merde. tu lui brises le cœur, Charles et moi serons devant ta porte, les couteaux à la main et prêts à frapper. Elle mérite le monde et tu ferais mieux de le lui donner. ❤️ 🤗
→ username44 alex being such a sweet and supportive friend 🥹🫶
→ username45 DID WE READ THE SAME COMMENT???
→ username46 french speaker here 🙋 i can confirm that alex did infact say how happy she is for y/n and lewis and that she can’t wait for them and y/n and charles to go on double dates!!
→ username46 that is what i would say but she very much said the opposite!!
→ lewishamilton ✔︎ oui oui madame. 🫡
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#☆ﾟ user ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝#f1 x reader#formula 1#f1 fanfic#formula one x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smau#formula one x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton fanfic#☆ﾟ smau ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝#charles leclerc#lando norris#alexandra saint mleux#lily muni he#rebecca donaldson#kika gomes
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i love you, it’s ruining my life
azriel x cassian's sister!reader - part 2 of 3
summary: Rhysand sends you on the mission to Windhaven alone, and things do not go as planned.
warnings: mentions of violence/blood, poison, mentions of previous assault and past trauma, Azriel being oblivious and upset again
word count: 5.5k
Windhaven, the place you once called home.
Now the place you avoided at all costs, the place where you lived through your worst nightmares and recollected them every single night while trying to sleep in the hell hole of a cabin you were going to be staying in for the night.
You tried your hardest to forget about the night that would haunt you for the rest of eternity, tried to will it from your memory, tried to put up an obsidian wall around it to lock it in.
But there was no forgetting what happened to you, not now, not ever. There was no trusting a male fully ever again, all thanks to the Illyrian customs.
Cillian was the first and last male you ever trusted. He gained your trust, made you fall in love with him, then ripped you to shreds, mentally and physically. The only male you ever trusted was the same one who lured you into that wretched cabin alone and held you down with a knife.
I love you, he had whispered in your ear all those years ago while pinning you to the floor, your wings spread as the knife pressed against one of the central tendons, I just have to do this so everyone knows you’re mine. So you can be a normal Illyrian female.
He was mere centimeters from clipping your wings when Rhysand heard your silent cries, busting into the cabin, making the wicked male scramble away in fear of what might happen to him.
You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep at all during your stay in the camp, but it was probably better that way. That way you could stay on guard all night, that way you could watch your own back. You had to prove to Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle that you could be treated like a grown female, that you were willing to do anything for the Night court.
There wasn’t much time when you arrived at the cabin, you had to set your bag inside and leave almost immediately, heading towards Lord Devlon’s hall for dinner.
As much as Devlon hated your brother, he had nothing but respect for you. That might be partially due to the threats you’d set into his mind a few hundred years ago, or the fact that you’d beat him during training multiple times, but the reason didn’t matter. It was more beneficial for you to be the one to show your face in Windhaven this time around and you knew that, regardless of how much it made your stomach turn. It was important that someone from the Inner Circle came to Windhaven every once in a while under the guise of making sure the camp was still in order, so this was the perfect opportunity to gain important insight as well.
So you sat at the long table for dinner, chatting with those around you in the most civil tone that you could. You couldn’t bear to eat in all honesty, just the thought of having to stay in the cursed cabin for even eight hours for sleep was enough to make you lose all appetite. So, you opted for pushing around some potatoes and meat on your plate all while chugging down four glasses of faerie wine throughout the two hours you were there.
You coincidentally sat to the right of Cormac during the meal, who had Balvard sitting on the left of him, making it almost too easy for you to infiltrate their minds and figure out their foolish plan. The two of them were under the impression that they would be able to take out Devlon with a faebane dagger and control the camps with ease. It made you scoff to yourself when you discovered that neither of them had a backup plan, as if that was going to work out so smoothly for them.
The remainder of dinner after finding out the information you needed consisted of you bantering with some of the Illyrians you had grown up next to, ones who had turned into great warriors through training at Windhaven. The sun had been set for hours by the time you made your way back to the cabin, setting up some wards as you stepped over the threshold.
Exhaustion hit you almost immediately upon changing into your sleep clothes, eyelids heavy as you relaxed onto your side in the large bed next to the fire you’d just lit. You’d assumed you would be wired at this point, you’d planned on not sleeping at all due to the fear instilled deep in your bones.
You cuddled into the blankets, the familiar scent of your old home giving you an eerily comforted feeling passing through your gut. Solace filled you once you threw up a final shield around the small cabin, setting you at ease to know nobody could come in unless you let them in.
Before you knew it, you were fast asleep on the bed.
You awoke a few hours later, disturbed by the noise of the front door swinging open. Your body felt paralyzed in the moment, lethargy taking you over as you slowly turned your head towards the noise. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion as you watched the two males stalk through the door, unable to react in any way as your eyes trailed up to see Cormac and Balvard stepping over the threshold. The smirks on their faces told you everything you needed to know about what was about to happen.
You wracked your brain for how this could’ve happened, how you were immobilized by these two lowly, evil men in front of you, how you fell into their trap so easily, and how the hell you were completely unable to use any power or energy in this moment.
Faebane.
How could you be so foolish? You should’ve known better than to drink the wine so freely at a table of men you barely knew, especially after infiltrating Cormac and Balvard’s minds and discovering they wanted to use the same fucking poison on Devlon.
“Stupid female.” Balvard spat at you as Cormac inched closer to you, hand reaching out for your ankle. “You really thought you could come here, infiltrate our fucking minds to find out our plans, and just get away with it?”
You couldn’t speak, it was like someone was pressing down on your throat as you tried to breathe, there had been some gloriella in your wine, too, you were sure of it. Your body was pulled from the bed and flipped over in one swift tug, you were thrown onto the floor in an instant.
Images of Cillian flashed through your mind as your helpless form was pushed onto the floor, images of his wicked grin that matched the ones both of the males in front of you were wearing currently.
A silent tear slid down your cheek as Balvard spoke, but you couldn’t hear his words. He was still rambling on about how stupid of a female you were, and how you deserved nothing but pain after what you were planning to do to them, but you tried your hardest to drown them out.
There was nothing you could do at this point, as Balvard held your legs down, as Cormac pinned your wings with one large hand while the other pulled a sizable knife from its sheath. There was nothing you could do but close your eyes and hope that it would be over soon.
You had never felt this helpless before, not even when Cillian had pinned you down. At least then you were able to fight back, at least then you had a shred of dignity and pride left, at least then you hadn’t been so foolish as to let someone fucking poison you.
You cursed yourself internally as you squeezed your eyes shut, pain rippling through your body at the first slash of the knife against your wing. The first cut was against the base of your right wing, a long slash that would take months to heal, if it ever did.
A prayer to the Gods repeated itself in your mind as you felt the blood trickle from your wing and onto your back. Your heart ached as the silent tears flowed, wandering to the furthest corners of your mind as you tried to think of anything aside from the pain that was being inflicted upon you. It took everything in you to realize that you had a sliver of power still running through your veins, just enough to call out to your daemati brother, Rhys.
As you shot a quick thought down the bridge of Rhysand’s mind, you were met with a welcoming talon of power. You could feel his concern as you pushed one-worded thoughts to him to get his attention.
Everything alright, sister? He questioned through your mind, urging you to let him see what you’d experienced in the last twelve hours with a kind caress of his power in your mind.
You only had enough power to cry out silently to him, Send help, please. Your mind was closed to him as quickly as it had opened, everything went dark on your end as your energy ran out and you were blinded with even more pain, throwing you quickly into unconsciousness.
The next thing you remembered was waking up to the sound of wailing and begging from behind you, the two men who had you pinned down minutes before were thrown against the wall as their High Lord took pleasure in tearing them to shreds in a slow and painful death. The cries came to a sudden halt moments later, Rhys growing tired of their begging as he decided to shatter their minds and put you out of your misery as quickly as possible.
“R–Rhys–” you sob once their cries stopped, unable to do anything aside from lift a weak finger to point towards the man in the doorframe.
The High Lord’s gaze turns from one of pure rage to one of a worried friend once his violet eyes flick toward where you lay in the middle of the cabin. He takes in the sight in front of him slowly, your pained expression and tear-stained cheeks There’s blood pooled around your midsection, drenching your sleep shirt as you pant in pain on the dusty wooden floor. One of your wings looks fractured in multiple spots, while the other one is mangled from the beginnings of a mutilation.
The sight made Rhysand shudder with anger, fists tight at his sides as he slipped into your mind in order to understand the extent of the situation you found yourself in. You let him in without resistance, unable to hold any kind of mental shield up anymore.
They were going to clip your wings, take away the one thing you had to remind you of your mother, take away the one thing you held so dearly, take away your ability to fly. They were going to make you into the ideal complicit Illyrian female before wiping your memory of the entire night, which he assumed from the extremely prohibited memory tonic rolling on the floor next to you.
Rhys was glad he’d shattered the two traitors inside and out once your memories were collected, realizing how ruthless they had been with you moments before he stormed in.
“D–Don’t tell Cassian.” you plead, eyes focused on Rhys as he took another step into the cabin.
Your pleas took Rhys back to that fateful night all those years ago, the night he found you in this same room, sobbing in the middle of the room after being defiled by another Illyrian male who he nearly ripped to ribbons in the same exact spot where Cormac and Balvard laid in the corner, the male who fled from Windhaven the next morning, likely from threats from Rhysand himself.
Four hundred and fifty years ago was when he vowed to protect you like his own sister. You had begged him that night not to tell Cassian about what he’d seen, the vulnerable state the situation had left you in. The two of you had even made a bargain that night, that he would never be able to reveal the truth about what happened, so long as you remained loyal to him and his family, which he knew you would do regardless.
Four hundred and fifty years ago he promised to be the one to look out for you and make sure you were protected in situations you knew your brother’s unadulterated rage couldn’t handle.
And now, four hundred and fifty years after that fateful day, he’d failed you.
Rhys gave you a sympathetic look, opening his mouth to speak in response to your request, but was interrupted by your brother pushing through the doorway past him. Cassian nearly tripped over his own two feet at the sight of you, stomach churning when he saw your mangled wings slumped on the wood over your limp body.
“Don’t look, Cass.” you beg your brother as he stares at you with wide eyes, knowing the sight will spin him into a fit of rage. In your dazed state, you could see him beginning to seethe at the possibilities of what could’ve happened to you, his breaths quickening at the thought.
Before Cassian can reply, Rhys slips into his mind. She needs her brother right now, not the Lord of Bloodshed ready to avenge her. Let’s get her back to the house before you make any rash decisions, we can come back and rip whoever else deserves it to shreds once she’s safe.
Cassian chokes on a breath as Rhysand tries to reassure him that you’ll be alright. It takes everything in him to compose himself, but he does it for you, his twin, his fiery sister who he’d take an ash arrow to the heart for.
“I can’t—can’t feel—“ you choke out, squirming and groaning in pain as Cassian picks you up from the floor. “My w—wings. I can’t feel them. Did they—they take them away?”
Your pained words strike Cassian like a dagger to the heart, tears welling up as he thinks about how much pain you had to be in.
“No, I promise. They didn’t take them away. They’re–they’re still there, Y/N. It—It’ll be okay,” your brother says in a stern tone as he chokes back his own tears, eyes wide as he watches you struggle in his arms while walking through the cabin’s front door. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
It sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself that it would all be okay as he shot into the sky with you curled up in his arms.
You were in and out of consciousness the entirety of the flight back to the House of Wind, babbling nonsense as Cassian tried to keep you stable in his arms.
The entire Inner Circle was already at the house when Cassian landed, an air of worry carrying through the group as they saw the state of you, more specifically the state of your wings.
Rhysand immediately called for Madja upon seeing the extent of your injuries, and ordered Cassian to take you to your room and to keep you awake until she arrived.
Cassian was up the stairs in a flash, Feyre and Mor on his heels as he rushed to your room, with Azriel quietly following behind them. He laid you on your side, your bloodied wings spread across the bed as you curled up near the edge of the large bed. Your eyes landed on Feyre as he stepped away, a dazed smile spreading across your lips as you reached out a hand for her.
The High Lady gives you a small smile in return, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, which were filled with worry. She grabs your hand, squeezing it gently as she begins to tell you something that you really can’t comprehend over the ringing in your ears.
After a while of her speaking to you and you babbling nonsense in return, you try to sit up abruptly. Both Cassian and Feyre are on you in an instant, pushing you gently back onto your side, quickly telling you that you need to lay down and stay there.
“What is it?” Feyre asks quickly, gripping your hand as you easily give up and fall onto the bed, “Is something wrong, do you need something?”
“Az…” you whimper, fighting the urge to fall asleep right then and there, “W—Where’s Azriel?”
The shadowsinger had been outside the door keeping watch, but his shadows had been listening in on the conversation within as well. The shadows curled around his ear, whispering your name to him, telling him that you requested him, so he silently strode in when he heard. Your tired eyes lit up at the sight of him in the doorway, hand slipping from Feyre’s to weakly beckon him over to you.
Something about seeing you in this state tugged on his heart, tugged on it so much it felt like it was going to rip from his chest. He couldn’t deny your request for him to come closer, not when you looked so desperate and in so much pain, not when his absence in Windhaven was part of the reason you were in this situation in the first place.
He made a mental note to ask Rhys who did this to you as he made his way over to the chair Feyre left for him to sit in, wanting nothing more than to show them what Truth Teller could do.
Azriel’s hand fell next to you on the bed and you immediately rested your own atop his, grinning widely as what felt like delusion set into your bones. Shadows twined around your fingers while the others skittered across your wings as if to soothe them.
“They may—may not be able to save my wings, Az.” you choked out, a bitter giggle coming out as you spoke.
“I’m sure Madja will be able to heal you right up, Y/N. You’ll be better in no time.” Azriel assured you, but he wasn’t sure that was entirely true. “She’ll be here any minute.”
“I—I don’t even care. I just—just need my mate.” you say abruptly while shaking your head, voice barely above a whisper now as you stare at the male, glassy eyes meeting his sharp yet confused gaze.
“Mate?” he replies with a furrowed brow, lips drawing into a frown at your words. He was wondering if you even knew what you were saying at this point, if you were just saying whatever came to your disoriented mind.
“Mate.” you say a little louder this time and the whole room is silent as you reach out for Azriel, your shaky and blood-crusted hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “My mate.”
Your eyes fluttered close with those words, a smile on your lips as you’re overtaken by sleep in the moment. Your hand falls from Azriel’s cheek and onto his lap, and that’s when he feels it. That’s when he feels the shadows of his mind clearing, bringing that band of golden thread to the forefront. A band of golden thread that was tying his soul to yours.
Before Azriel could process the situation unfolding in front of him, Cassian was pulling him from the chair so Feyre could tend to you once more. The High Lady tried to wake you, but nothing worked. Thankfully, Rhysand and Madja rushed into the room mere minutes after you became unconscious, immediately going to work on getting you back to consciousness and ready to be healed.
Cassian tugged at Azriel’s shoulders as the whirlwind began, trying to drag him into the hallway. The shadowsinger resisted, standing behind Feyre as he watched you closely. You awoke immediately when Madja began to tend to your bloodied wings, the sensitive membrane torn to shreds. A cry escaped your lips as she gently worked on them, as Feyre tried her best to keep you in one spot while Madja worked her magic.
Azriel watched with wide eyes, rage rippling through his body as he watched you writhe in pain. He wanted nothing more than to take away your pain, to make sure nobody ever hurt you again, to keep you safe with him forever.
Your brother continued to try to move Azriel from the room, knowing it wouldn’t end well if he continued to watch you writhe in pain as Madja made quick work of healing you. He continued to resist, shoving Cassian multiple times before Rhysand breached his mind, stopping him in his tracks.
I’ll make sure she’s okay. He spoke to Azriel in his mind, staring him down as he squeezed your hand, beginning to take away your pain. She’s safe with me and I’ll take away whatever pain I can, but we need you to leave before you do anything stupid. The bond is too new and who knows what you’ll do if you continue to see her like this.
Azriel straightened against Cassian’s grip, nodding at Rhys as he silently assured him that you would be okay. Eventually, he let your brother guide him into the hallway, noting the glamour Rhysand had added to the bedroom to drown out your cries as Cassian closed the door.
It isn’t until he steps into the hallway that he’s finally able to fully comprehend what just happened. That’s when guilt and fear and pain wash over his body, stinging his chest all at once, right down the bond.
“This–It’s my fault.” he says, falling back against the wall opposite to your bedroom in the hall, his legs unable to hold him up anymore. “I–I could’ve fucking stopped this, I should’ve been there, I should’ve known that this would happen–”
“Woah, Az.” Cassian interjects, reaching for Azriel’s shoulders once again. “You and I both know how stubborn she is. She would’ve refused to go if you were going, and you know it. She thought she had to prove herself to Rhys, just like she always does.”
“I should’ve just–Fuck!” Azriel yelled, shoving his hands into his hair to tug on it roughly out of frustration, “I should’ve fucking sent my shadows, I could’ve seen their plan, I–”
“Azriel.” Cassian interrupted once again, grabbing the shadowsinger to get his attention. “Would you shut up for one second? She would’ve torn those shadows–and you–to shreds if you did that. She’s still under the impression that you fucking hate her, Az.”
Azriel let out a shuddering breath at the thought, a whirlwind of emotions taking over. His mind was racing as he thought of you in the next room, how his shadows couldn’t even infiltrate Rhysand’s glamour to see if you were alright. None of it made sense, you deserved more than him, you should be with someone who actually could keep you safe.
“How long have you known?” Azriel pressed, stern gaze on Cassian as he finally let go of his shoulders.
“Az–”
“How. Fucking. Long.” he insisted, blue siphons flaring with power at his wrists as he reached for your brother.
Cassian sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat as he looks to the helpless man in front of him. “Two–Two years.” he’s quiet as he speaks, voice wavering in fear of what anger the fresh mating bond could bring out of his brother.
“You’ve known for two fucking years?” Azriel seethes, gripping Cassian’s leathers tighter as he growls, “how fucking dare you–”
“I couldn’t tell you and you know it, Az.” Cassian says, releasing himself from Azriel’s grip.
“You’re my brother–”
“And she’s my twin, my real fucking blood sister. I couldn’t betray her like that.” he interjected, shaking his head at the shadowsinger. “She would’ve torn me to shreds, then came for you next. You should know that nobody should interfere with a mating bond, you had to find out from her.”
Azriel took a deep and shaky breath at his words, knowing that Cassian was right in every sense of the word to not tell him for all this time. Eventually he nods at Cassian, deciding that words probably aren’t his strong suit at this moment, he didn’t want to say or do anything he’d regret later.
“C’mon, we should go somewhere else to get your mind–”
“No.” Azriel snarled, shaking his head firmly as his shadows swirled at his shoulders, siphons flaring with that ultramarine power once again. “I need to stay here, to see that she’s safe.”
There was something damn near animalistic in Azriel’s eyes as Cassian gazed at him. In that moment, he knew there would be no getting through to the shadowsinger, not when his mate was on the brink of death on the other side of the door.
Cassian nodded slowly at him, watching carefully as Azriel finally let go of his shoulders. The shadowsinger’s own shoulders sagged and he leaned to rest on the wall behind him, while trying to calm himself. He needed to be in that room, needed to see you, needed to hold you, but he knew there was no use in trying. Not even his shadows could slip under the door to check on you, Rhysand had glamoured the whole room to high hell in order to keep him out and to keep your healing as uninterrupted as possible.
He knew it would take hours, maybe even days before that door opened again, but he didn’t care. He’d stay right there waiting for that lock to click and that glamour to fall just so he could see you again.
And so wait he did.
He waited one hour, which turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into eight.
The wait was so long that Cassian eventually pulled two chairs out of his bedroom so they could sit, and the House nearly forced them to eat some stew that was placed upon the empty chair Azriel refused to occupy.
He only paced, mind racing with thoughts of you, of how he couldn’t feel you any time he tried to tug on the bond. He wasn’t sure how the mating bond worked, how much a glamour could mask it or how your unconsciousness would affect it. Every time he tugged on that golden strand in his chest, he felt nothing on the other end, just resistance that he could only assume was from the inability to fully reach you.
Each unsuccessful tug only drove him closer to insanity, closer to clawing down the door between the two of you to see if Rhysand was truly the reason he wasn’t able to reach you or not.
Just as Azriel was on the verge of another outrage, after waiting for nearly ten godsdamned hours, your bedroom door’s lock clicked. Both Cassian and Azriel’s attention whirled to the door, only to see Feyre standing at the door frame. The door was barely cracked, just enough to see her face, hiding the commotion behind her, hiding the sight of you behind her.
The moment the door opened, a wave of nausea flowed through Azriel’s stomach, the smell of you, the smell of your blood reaching his nose immediately.
The High Lady held out a hand as Azriel took a step towards the door, ready to push her over to finally see his mate.
“She’s waking up now,” Feyre interjects, giving the shadowsinger a stern look that tells him to behave, “she might be really confused right now, she’s been in and out of consciousness for a while so who knows what she really remembers. Be gentle with her, she may not remember what she said before you left.”
Azriel stands up straighter at the High Lady’s words, nodding sternly at her command as Cassian stands at his side finally. Both take a moment to compose themselves while she pulls the door open, revealing the room behind her at last.
The room is in much less of a disarray than they’d expected, likely thanks to a simple snap of Rhysand’s fingers. The only blood to be seen in the room is on your wings, which is currently being wiped away by Madja as you stir slowly.
It takes everything in Azriel not to run up to your side right then, to push Mor from the chair next to you, to take your head into his hands and kiss you and never let you go. But he holds back, waiting for you to finally wake from your sleep.
Your eyes flutter open a few moments later, a wave of confusion washing over you as you do. The last thing you really remember is being picked up by Cassian, off the floor of that Gods forsaken cabin. You really don’t remember how or when you made it back to the House of Wind, or what actually happened to you. At this point, judging by the shooting pain in your back, you weren’t sure if you wanted to remember what happened to you.
Your brother’s name was the first thing to fall from your lips, your weak hand reaching out for him with a watery smile. Tears filled your eyes as he took a step toward you.
“You’re a stubborn little shit, you know that?” Cassian said with a bittersweet smile, eyes flickering between your bruised face and your tattered wings.
“Gotta keep you on your toes all the time,” you rasp out, a small laugh from you finally filling the tense air.
Cassian sat next to you, talking to you lowly as he tried to keep things light, tried to keep your spirits up after he caught a glance of how mangled your wings were, how ruined they might be.
You barely noticed the shadowsinger standing behind him until a shadow skittered across your stomach, trailing to your bandaged wings to survey the damage. It wasn’t until then that you stopped to look at him, to see how stoic he looked while staring at you. His face paled, his jaw clenched as he stood silently at the foot of the bed.
“Are you here to mock me, shadowsinger?” your voice interrupted his thoughts, finally making him look up to meet your eyes.
Azriel’s brow furrowed at your words and Cassian tensed at your side. He only shook his head, an apologetic look crossing his face as he opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by you.
“If you’re here to tell me how I should’ve just sucked it up and gone with you, how I’m only a weak female and I can’t handle missions like this, I don’t want to hear it.”
Oh. Oh, no.
Realization struck Azriel in an instant, you didn’t remember anything about what you’d said to him. He tried to tug on the bond, a sympathetic look in his eyes as his heart lurched for you, but felt nothing.
The pain tonics, they mess with the bond. She cannot feel you, brother, Rhysand said to him wordlessly, watching quietly from the other side of the room, she does not know that you’re reaching out to her, she doesn’t know that you know.
Azriel felt like he was going to vomit, he couldn’t handle it anymore. He couldn’t go another minute without you knowing that he knew. But he knew better, he knew better than to throw this on you while healing from something so severe. So he looked at you once more with a calm and stoic expression, into your fiery eyes, knowing you were putting on a show of hatred just for him.
“I wasn’t going to mock you, Y/N.” Azriel said matter-of-factly, shaking his head at the thought, “I was only going to tell you that I hope you feel better soon, and that I am sorry, for everything.”
Your stern gaze wavers for a moment, confusion crossing your once stern face at his last words. Before you could retort, he was rushing out the door, leaving one shadow behind to keep watch over you.
He thought you needed space, that you needed this time away from him to heal fully before he threw his heart at you, before he confessed how in love he’d been with you for so damn long.
So he left. Left the House of Wind immediately, deciding that you were better off without him for now.
But he missed the tear that slipped from your eye once he fled the room. He missed the way you were tugging against the bond as well, the golden strand too clouded by the tonics and poisons running through your veins to reach either side.
He missed the way you let out a small sob at his absence, fully recoiling into yourself as you thought that the only male you wanted couldn’t stand to be with you for more than two seconds.
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Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?
Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3
Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words
James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm.
Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move.
“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time.
“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.”
As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple.
Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived.
A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside.
“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you.
The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.
Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.”
“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.”
You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest.
Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you.
You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.”
“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.”
Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him.
You nod, letting him take your injured hand.
“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?”
You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort.
You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach.
“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.”
You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow.
“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you.
Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius coo sympathetically, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair.
You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat.
“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.”
“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless.
“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.”
“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.”
You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile.
“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.”
James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well.
“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.”
“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?”
You blink at him. “Feel what?”
“Good.”
Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed.
“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.”
Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.”
That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand.
“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?”
You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected.
“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?”
For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?”
Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.”
You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light.
Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.”
“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.”
“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.”
“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?”
“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.”
Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?”
You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out.
“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.”
“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.”
“Not you?” James teases.
Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.”
“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?”
“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.”
“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.”
That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.”
“There?” you echo.
Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly.
“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows.
“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.”
James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face.
“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.
It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder.
“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.”
“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.”
Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.”
You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.”
You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe.
“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”
#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#marauders au#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders
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could I maybe request some more coworker james, maybe reader telling james about something she’s upset about? love you and your writing, hope you’re okay my love!! :)
thank you for requesting <3 fem, 1k
Today, James has moved your mug to the fridge. He laughs as he does it, while Sirius tuts and drinks a quick cup of tea by the sink. “You’re gonna bully her out of the job,” Sirius says.
“This isn’t bullying. This is hazing. Light hazing. If she asks me where it is I’ll tell her, but she’ll find it.” He puts it on top of his lunch, practically begging for retaliation.
You arrive in a fluster that morning, a few minutes late but no less pretty than usual. It’s irksome but nothing he feels the need to comment on, smiling to himself as you sit. Your desk knocks against his and sends his little Smiski figurine tumbling.
“Sorry,” you say, reaching over to pick him up. You’re gentle putting him back on James' outgoings, your perfume floating his way. “Poor Smiski.”
“I’m sure he’ll recover. What’s with the late start, princess?”
You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t be a chauvinist.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He can’t help grinning at you. James doesn’t believe that you genuinely think he’s a chauvinist, and so he doesn’t mind continuing to poke at you. “I hardly think calling you princess demonstrates any belief that I’m better than you. I am better than you.” He bites. “What’s with the hair?”
You’ve had your hair done. It looks gorgeous and like it took half a day, but he doesn’t mention that.
“I have to go with Sirius today to talk to Enlighten limited.”
“Why would you have to do that?”
“Sirius says I’m the administrator’s type.”
“And he’s using you as bait?” James asks incredulously.
You turn the Smiski so he’s facing James’ monitor. “He said I shall be greatly rewarded.” You’ve had your nails done, their beds shiny with lacquer, your cuticles finely manicured.
You put your bag under your desk. Your hands shift in your lap.
James watches in bridled horror when you leave. To the outward observer he doesn’t care because he shouldn’t, but he can’t believe it when you go —you’re a beautiful girl and he’s awful inside, he hates that you’re pretty, he hates that you’ve had your hair done to go see somebody, he sort of hates that Sirius is using you like a poster girl to facilitate business. You’re a water safety company. What is wrong with him? What’s wrong with James?
“She looked nice, didn’t she?” Remus asks.
James ignores him diligently. He tries to ignore the entire world for a few hours, completing three times as much work as he usually would and dedicatedly avoiding the thought of your hands while he does it.
You didn’t even notice that he moved your mug. How embarrassing is that? James thinks he might dig a hole and throw himself in it before you get back.
Later, you return. You’re both with weak smiles as you sit down and Sirius stands behind Remus.
“Did it go okay?” Remus asks, tipping his head back.
Sirius frowns but gives his boyfriend a nice kiss on the cheek anyways. “I don’t think they’re gonna choose us this time. It’s fine. Now come with me so I can make you some tea, handsome.”
You tuck your chair in as they go.
“Didn’t go well?” James asks you.
You shake your head. For a moment you stare at your keyboard, and then you turn to him with a wobbly smile. “I think I really messed it up for him, James.”
“How would you do that?”
“I tried to be conversational, you know. Sirius is so chatty. But I kept saying the wrong things. I asked him about his daughter. He had all these photos on the wall, but she died last June. Just decimated the mood.” Your brow wrinkles. You cover your frown with two fingers. “Sirius wasn’t mad.”
“He wouldn’t be mad at you for a shit business meeting, he’s not like that. I don’t think anyone can blame you for that.”
You pause again. “You’re sure?”
You’d been expecting a joke, it seems. James had meant to make fun of you, but your honesty threw him off. He struggles to say anything else, the two of you looking at one another in mutual surprise, until insecurity flashes in your eyes and you peel back.
James turns his head to his spreadsheet, though his eyes remain on you.
“I know he’s not mad at me, but he should be. He took me with him to help and I…” You rub your lips together, what little that’s left of your lipgloss spreading thin. “I really thought I could do it.”
“You can. If poaching clients were hard, Sirius wouldn’t have a job.” He feels bad for diminishing Sirius’ efforts, joke or not, and he softens his tone. “What makes you think you can’t do it? Because you made a mistake? You couldn’t have known it was a sore subject.”
“I feel silly. I felt so stupid sitting in his office, I looked like an idiot.”
“No, you didn’t.” James bites the inside of his lip to stop from saying anything ridiculous, but his eyes stray. He looks at your eyes, your soft cheek, the curve of your neck and your hair and your lips, rubbed and bitten enough that your lipgloss is almost completely gone. You didn’t look stupid. You never…
James is in deep shit, it seems. You’re so pretty.
For a moment, he can’t remember why he doesn’t like you.
You falter under his gaze. “I guess I’m being childish, worrying,” you say tightly.
“You’re not being childish.” James clears his throat, sits a bit straighter. “It’s okay to worry about stuff when it’s gone wrong, but I can go and ask Sirius right now if he thinks any of that was your fault and I know he’d say no. You tried your best,” —his hand slides across the desk, nowhere near touching you but an unconscious response— “okay?”
“I tried my best,” you say softly.
“And you looked scrumptious.” You snort. “But it’s back to business now, cool? You can’t mooch an entire day doing nothing, I need you to check off some of these spreadsheets for me, I’m missing a ton of laboratory numbers.”
You rush to do as he’s said, and that’s that, the charged air between you simmers and dies.
“James,” you say, with dawning horror, “how many of these did you do?”
“I’m oh so productive when you’re not here to irritate me, apparently.”
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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Nanami smut + suggestive audio
• minors do not interact!
──── Nanami, determined to make your first time memorable, dedicates himself to providing your with as much pleasure as possible, even taking care of the foreplay.
Lying side by side, your moisture glistens over your intimacy, with your head resting on Nanami's outstretched arm, one leg resting on his waist, keeping you open and vulnerable. Nanami's skilled fingers play incessantly with your clitoris.
"Kento... Please, I need more" you plead, lifting your hips in search of more contact with Nanami's rough fingers.
"Shh, you need to be well-prepared to receive me. I don't want to hurt your beautiful virgin pussy."
"Ugh, Kento, but I'm already ready" you grumble petulantly, with an annoyed expression that elicits a persuasive smile from Nanami.
"Oh, are you really?" Before you can respond, Nanami inserts two of his slender fingers into your untouched interior. He can barely move them due to the way you squeeze them; your eyes roll back in surprise and you moan sharply. Nanami feels the moisture in his boxer increase; if he weren't so skilled at controlling himself, he would have come just from the way he's touching you.
"You see? Your little pussy can barely handle my fingers, and you already want my cock? Don't be so eager, sweetie" Nanami intimidates you, chuckling softly as he sees you shrink back and then kissing your cheek.
He keeps his fingers moving slowly inside you, exploring your soft and tight walls. His thumb continues to stimulate your clit, applying enough pressure to make you see stars.
Your stomach knots tighten; you grip the sheet with one hand and squeeze Nanami's bicep with the other. Your doe-like eyes meet Nanami's cloudy gaze, both full of desire and excitement. He almost growls at the sight of you so surrendered to him.
"Yeah, good girl. Don't worry, the more aroused you get, the better you'll feel good. I promise, after you cum on my fingers, I'll fill you up completely. That's what you want, isn't it?" Nanami whispers near your ear, watching you nod frantically in agreement as you surrender to pleasure. He plants kisses along your jawline, moving up to your cheek and heading towards your mouth, where they start a slow and furtive kiss, savoring every second, every millisecond.
⠀
(Reposting)
I hope you're wearing headphones 🤭
Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome 🫶🏻💕
#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami x fem!reader#kento nanami x fem!reader#kento nanami x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami x you#jjk x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#kento nanami smut#nanami imagines#nanami x female reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk imagines#nanami kento smut#kento nanami#nanami kento#nanami x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk nanami#nanami jujutsu kaisen#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#jjk#jujutsu kaisen
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𝝑𝝔 an: i don’t really like this much :( im feeling so sick ngl reader is me i am reader, just need me a boyfie like sukuna here :((( anyways, i posted this because i felt the pressure to do it sk bare with me please!! i love you all <33 read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!
so you’ve been silent through the whole day, which has been bothering sukuna whenever he was reminded of it. nervously checking his phone at practice every chance he got, which got his teammates interested in whatever the hell happened that got him so invested in his phone(only toji tbh). his mind being focused on you instead of the upcoming game which reflected greatly on his practice and made everyone worried.
sukuna just waved them off and continued calling you with no results and texting you, which also got him nowhere. so of course, he decided to check on you after being done with university.
no one answers your door, radio silence, which leads sukuna to taking out the poorly hidden spare keys from under the fake plant and going in, still uninvited but determined to find you. he calls your name a few times, walking around the rooms with a frown on his face. the sight that greets him when he enters your room is even more confusing than your silence throughout the day.
a big pile of blankets on your bed. the longer he stares at it the clearer he can see the faint movement of it — slowly up and slowly down, up and down. he approaches it, looking over only to find a tuft of your hair peeking out from under it.
“what the hell..?” he mutters under his nose while his hands tug down the blanket to reveal your face.
even in your sleep you manage to frown and you only do that when you’re not feeling well, so sukuna leans in closer, sensing the heat radiating from you, and touches your forehead with his lips, eyes widening at how hot you feel. “the fuck happened to you?”
you blink sleepily before opening your eyes and looking up at him for a few seconds. sukuna sits down by your side, hands caressing your face gently as he inspects your condition quickly, “what’s up, loser?”
you say his name, yet he can barely hear it before you start coughing and turn away from him. he can see your face scrunch in pain; his heart squeezes in his chest when you lie back and this time your lips wobble slightly as you mouth his name, barely audible, “‘kuna~ think ‘m sick~”
“yea, no shit.” he rolls his eyes with no real annoyance in them. “let’s make you feel better, yeah, baby?”
you nuzzle into his palm and he smiles gently at you… until you unintentionally sneeze right into it, leaving slimy boogers and gross spit, and sukuna’s eye twitches as he tries to contain his curses.
of course, first thing sukuna does — calls his older brother jin, because the former doesn’t even remember the last time he got sick and jin always knows what to do, especially in a situation like this since little yuuji hasn’t developed the best immune system yet.
“are you sure you can take care of her properly?” jin asks worriedly from the other end of the line, causing sukuna to roll his eyes.
“have some faith in me, will you?” jin only sighs, barely listening to him as he writes down the list of various medicine and things he must buy to make you feel better. yet, he still catches his younger brother’s almost incoherent mumbling. “i can take care of her like no other.”
“then do just that.”
sukuna hums and presses end call, continuing to look through your kitchen cabinet full of different medicines in hopes of finding whatever the hell jin sent him.
you’re not a very obedient person when you’re sick though, he notices. sukuna can tell you’re still a bit hazed from the high body temperature and trying to sleep it off without any care, yet the sickness makes you more stubborn than ever.
and he can’t find it in himself to push you around when your body is hurting and muscles are sore from spasming in an attempt to warm up. so he just lets you sit on the chair in the kitchen, wrapped tightly in your blanket, dazedly watching him make you some soup.
he feeds you the soup himself, too, agreeing a little begrudgingly of course. you whine a bit with that pitiful broken voice of yours and he just gives in because your eyes are watery and your lips wobble, and he is just a weak man around you. don’t judge him!
sukuna is so caring, though, it makes you fall in love with him all over again. he’s a bit clumsy when it comes to cooking you stuff and making you curing beverages; rough around his the edges about his timing and maybe a little too annoyed with your childish antics, yet never showing it directly like he usually does.
watching your favourite movies and shows with you, when he’d usually just shit on your taste and choose something of his own(which you also eventually like, but nonetheless get angry at him). getting invested in them too — just so he can entertain you afterwards and take your mind off of your ill state.
not commenting on your messy state; sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, complains about cold when changing your equally sweaty shirts to clean ones, whines about the tea being too hot or the syrup being too gross(okay, that one kinda angers him he just shoves the spoon in your mouth to make you drink it since you wouldn’t do it yourself).
he also sleeps with you later that night, ignoring your warnings about him getting sick too :(( holds you tight, shares his body heat and wakes up every now and then to check if you’ve sweated any more.
needless to say, you feel a lot better the next morning!! all thanks to sukuna.
(also he gets sick a day after, but don’t ask about that pls heh).
#— miya writes!#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader#jjk sukuna#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#sukuna ryomen fluff#ryomen sukuna x you
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currently thinking about how Simon Riley loves plans-
Simon Riley! Who plans the day he wants to kiss you, plans out the perfect day of the week and has a plan b in case the weather isn’t right
Simon Riley! Who can go off plan if need be but he is not doing it unless he has to
Simon Riley! Who chose a Friday, because in his brain it made sense ‘give you the weekend’ to think and get back to him on Monday
Simon Riley! Who spent the day as he normally would, watching you as he intended to, taking you to that coffee shop you like and then that bookstore you swore was ‘underrated’ (highest grossing in your town)
Simon Riley! Who planned on carrying all of your book bags so of course he brought that tote you bought for him months ago
Simon Riley! Who planned the time of year so it would be a perfect time to sit in the park and look for butterflies
Simon Riley! Who when the moment finally happened and you were standing before him, a beaming smile on your face- froze
“Si?” You furrow your eyebrows and then move your hand to tap his cheek from over the face mask. He was holding conversation not even five second ago, his hand resting comfortably on your hip (something you were actively leaning into) now it like actually speaking to a ghost. “Simon?”
“Love.”
To the name of endearment you falter and tilt your head, “love what? What do you love?”
“You.”
“oh.” The word was squeaked out and you then nervously, “That’s a choice. I mean you could have your pick from anyone and you choose me? Now don’t get me wrong I’m pretty cool but seriously Simon, you’re what? Six foot twenty nine and you look like you could throw a truck- and I mean you could do a lot better and I’m not meaning to sound down on myself because like I said I’m pretty damn cool but-“
the words got caught in your throat as the next thing you were fully aware of was that he had leaned down ever so slightly to press his lips to yours, silencing your ramble. Aside from the feeling of his chapped lips you felt the plastic cloth against the bridge of your nose, as he had pulled it up rather than down. To say it took you back would be giving him some slack, you were sure the noise you made could be described as a shriek- which quickly died as you melted into it.
Simon Riley! Who planned on it going like that.
#simon riley fanfic#cod x you#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#coco's chaos <3#cod fluff#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#Ghost fluff
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