#i just wanted someone to say that they were sorry for what happened to me. if you even care.
Note
HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹
James takes care of you when you faint
James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k
The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice.
The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You’d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank.
You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person.
You’d felt different.
“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?”
You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?”
“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.”
“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.”
“Are you feeling alright?”
That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot.
“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About you not talking to me.”
“Funny.”
You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk.
“There, sent it,” you say.
“Thank you.”
Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears.
Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.”
“Are you coming?” Remus asks James.
There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually.
“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.”
“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.”
You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down.
“Sirius never used to act like that.”
“What?”
“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.”
Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand.
Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room.
“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks.
You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk.
“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.”
You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come.
“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.”
There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?”
You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.”
“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”
“Me too.”
You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.
“It’s supposed to rain tonight.”
“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.”
James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too.
You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous.
“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?”
You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.”
“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.”
You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it.
“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?”
“I’m fine, James.”
“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.”
“Why?” you ask in a rush.
“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.”
“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.”
“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.”
“I’ll report you to Human Resources.”
“For what? Being helpful?”
“Harassment.”
“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.”
#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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Fortnight
pairing: Lando Norris x Reader
summary: you were never cut out to be a WAG
a/n: guys i really like this one so i hope you love it too 🤍
masterlist ttpd masterlist
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“Oh my god, we need to get you help,” your best friend, Logan, gasps, walking in on you, three beers deep. You are sitting on the floor of your bedroom, Lando’s too when he’s actually home, the curtains closed, dirty clothes scattered on the floor. What he doesn’t know is that this is your normal.
“I’m fine,” you don’t even slur. Your phone is discarded to the side, beside the latest apology flowers given -shipped- to you by your supposedly loving boyfriend. You haven’t picked up his last couple calls, so he sent your friend to check in.
“Come on, get up and shower while I clean all this, and you call Lando after,” Logan sighs, pulling you off the floor as you finish the beer.
You begrudgingly walk to the bathroom, your friend setting out a fresh change of clothes. “Just, don’t tell Lando. He’s stressed enough,” you tell him, closing the door once you get a confirmation.
Twenty minutes later, you are sitting on the edge of the sink, phone ringing.
“Babe, are you okay, you haven’t been answering?” Lando asks, his worried voice makes a pit in your stomach.
“Lan, I’ve just been a little busy, that’s all. Sorry for worrying you. Are you okay?” despite him being the reason the reason for your recent state, you don’t want him to be hurt.
You miss breaks, when he would be with you all the time, now it seems like you only see each other in passing, like good neighbors who make that corny comment about the weather.
Lando finds you in a similar position as your friend did, except this time you are crying on the floor, not drunk. He got a couple free days off and is eager to spend them with you.
“Darling, what happened?” he kneels down beside you, his voice making you cry harder. “Baby,” his voice and heart breaks as you look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks.
“I-,” you gas for air. “I love you, Lando. It’s ruining my life,” each sob breaks his heart.
“No, no. Don’t say that,” he pleads, wiping the tears from your eyes.
“Do you know the longest amount of time we’ve spent together? 14 days, a fortnight. I can’t keep doing this. The apology gifts for missed moments, the quick phone calls that are hardly passable for time spent together,” you pause to catch your breath, the tears still flowing. “I can’t do this, Lando. I miss home, I miss America,” your eyes meet his, both of you broken.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were struggling this much,” he whispers, sitting down and pulling you into him.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” you look away, the feeling of him foreign.
“I’m off the next couple days, let’s work on us,”
“Lando-,”
“And I’ll bring you to more races even though I know you find it hard to get off of work,”
“Lando-,”
“Please don’t say it,” he whispers, kissing you. Another foreign feeling.
“I’m moving back to America, tomorrow,” you tell him, feeling like you’ve hit absolute rock bottom. Lando looks around the bedroom, realizing the only thing of yours left was your packed suitcase in the corner.
“Were you going to tell me?” he asks, your eyes not able to meet his.
“I was going to visit you in Woking tonight,” the silence that falls between you is deafening. You spend the night in separate rooms, and in the morning he insists on driving you to the airport. He gets out of the car, pulling your suitcase out for you.
“Please don’t go,” he asks one last time, the both of you crying.
“I have to, Lando. It’s what’s best for both of us,” you step closer to him.
“Winter break is almost here, please, just a little longer. This isn’t what’s best for me,” Lando says, pulling you into a tight hug.
“I love you, Lan, but you deserve someone who can be with you at each race and support you more than I can,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“You are always enough for me, I love you,” he cries.
“Please, Lan, I have to put myself first,” you grab your luggage handle and take a step back.
“I won’t block your number, if you ever need anything or are in London, call me, I’ll be there at the drop of a hat,” Lando says, his tear stained cheeks glistening in the sun. His offer is a complete change to how your relationship was.
“Goodbye, Lando,” you turn around, walking into the airport. You hand covers your mouth as you sob, refusing to turn back and look at an equally distressed Lando.
You refuse to check social media, only texting your family and Logan when you land in Miami. You knew Logan from karting before you quit, and he became your closest friend. He offered his apartment in Miami to you until you buy your own.
You quickly got a job and moved to Destin, a whole 9 hours away from Miami, 11 from Austin. Florida is treating you a lot nicer, but you feel stuck in an endless February. You took the magic move on pill that is relocating, but it doesn’t seem to be working. You changed your phone number when you got back to the US, and deleted your social media apps. Lando tried calling you and DM-ing you, but never got a reply.
“I will fly you down, please just come and support me. I need you at my home race,” Logan begs, wanting you to take a two week vacation to spend time with him in Miami and Fort Lauderdale. Something deep inside you agreed, so you pack your bags and hit the road, electing to drive.
You arrive the Wednesday before race week, and stay until the Wednesday after race week. It is nice because you can visit your own family too.
“I got you a paddock pass,” Logan says as you both lay on the beach the day you got in.
“Lo, I can’t go back there,” you turn your head to look at him.
“You can stay in Williams, you don’t have to go visit Oscar when I do,” Logan says, referencing the Australian who is also staying with Logan. Oscar promised he wouldn’t tell Lando you were in town.
“You know, I can get you a much nicer car than your Mercedes,” Oscar says, sitting beside you. Logan gets up to grab two waters.
“A McLaren? Not my thing, I hated driving,” you can’t even bring yourself to say his name. “Yeah, but I do love my car, I always wanted it,” you say.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Oscar leans over, bumping you with his shoulder.
“It’s okay, I know you didn’t. It’s still hard. Sometimes I think about calling him, but he won’t pick up. I have a new number and he has a new girl from what Logan said,” you admit.
“He’s miserable, he will never admit it, but he is. He hasn’t been the same since you left, but you seem to be doing a lot better. You have color back in your skin and you aren’t drinking all the time,” Oscar says, knowing what state you were in when Lando called Logan to check in on you. You were a functioning alcoholic, barely functioning at that point.
“Yeah, this was the right decision. Maybe it’s best if I don’t call Lando. Even if he is miserable, it might make things worse. I can’t get back together with him, but I want him to be okay,” you tell Oscar. What you don’t know is that Lando is renting the beach house beside the one you, Logan, and Oscar are staying in for the two weeks. He is jealous about how happy you seem with his teammate and your best friend.
You figure it out when you take a midnight walk, clad in a sweater with your university’s logo on it.
“Lando, hi,” you breathe, taking him in.
“Hey, you look really good. I like the sweater,” he shifts his weight in the sand. You look healthier, happier, and it kills him.
“I, um, changed my phone number and deleted my social media apps,” you say, answering the question he didn’t want to ask.
“I tried dating again, but I broke it off, I couldn’t do it,”
“Sorry, I should’ve thought about how I would hurt you,” you say, looking at your feet in the sand.
“No, you needed to do it. I don’t blame you, I was basically abandoning you,” Lando says, silently inviting you to join him on the walk. It becomes a habit, you join him every night.
“Congrats on the win,” you hug him on night 11. It was a silent agreement that you would go your separate ways again after the two weeks.
“Where are you living now?” Lando asks on night 14, both of you sitting in the sand between the two houses.
“Destin, Florida. I bought an apartment that used to be a timeshare,” you say, watching the waves.
“That’s pretty close, right?”
“Nine hours, Lan. other side of the state,” you smile, trying not to laugh. Lando’s heart flutters at the way you say his nickname, but squashes it.
“Oh, well I’m glad you were able to come down and support Logan,” he says, yawning a little.
“Alright, I have to wake up early to drive home,” you stand up, brushing the sand off of your legs.
“Drive safe,” Lando hugs you, finally feeling healed.
“Goodbye, Lan,” you whisper.
“Goodbye,” he whispers back, capturing the look of you in his mind.
#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris imagines#logan sargeant#oscar piastri
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Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader
Ao3 Link
Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans
WC: 18k
Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.
Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?
"I don't have one."
"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.
"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.
"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.
"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.
"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.
"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.
"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."
Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.
"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.
"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.
"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.
"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.
"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.
"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.
"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.
"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.
"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.
"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.
"Told you so."
You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"
"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."
"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."
It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.
"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."
"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.
"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"
"Isn't this illegal?"
"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.
"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.
"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.
Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."
"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"
"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."
"What?"
"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."
Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.
"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.
"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.
"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.
"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"
"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.
"Yeah?"
"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.
"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."
A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.
You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.
"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.
"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.
"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"
"I'm not."
"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"
"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.
"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.
"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."
"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"
"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.
The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."
He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."
"Good."
"Simon?"
The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.
"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.
"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.
Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.
"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.
"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."
You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."
"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."
You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."
"And my dad?"
"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.
You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.
You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.
"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.
"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.
The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.
Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.
You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.
Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."
You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."
You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.
"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"
"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."
Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"
"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."
"That's not true."
"I think it is."
Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.
"Of course."
You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.
Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."
"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.
"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."
You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.
You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.
The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.
"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.
"Then lets go."
You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.
"What?"
"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.
When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."
"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."
"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.
You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.
It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.
Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.
It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.
You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."
You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.
Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.
You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.
The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.
It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.
That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.
No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.
The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”
“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.
“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.
“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.
“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.
The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”
The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.
“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”
“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.
“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.
“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.
“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”
The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.
“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”
“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”
“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.
Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.
“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.
You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.
That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.
“I didn’t want to lose.”
“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”
“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?
“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.
“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”
“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.
You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”
“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.
At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.
He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”
“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.
Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.
“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”
“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”
“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”
“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”
“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”
“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.
“They gave him a hard time too.”
“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?
Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.
He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.
“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”
“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.
“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”
Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.
Who are you Ghost?
”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”
You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.
“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.
“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”
”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.
“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.
”What are you? My aunt?”
”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.
”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.
”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.
You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.
Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.
He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.
Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.
You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”
You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.
”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.
”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.
”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”
”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”
”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”
”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”
”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.
Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.
It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.
He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.
You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.
You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.
You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.
You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.
Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.
When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”
”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.
”Need to know.”
”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.
”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”
”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.
”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”
”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”
”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.
”What?”
”Forget about it.”
”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”
”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs
”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.
He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.
Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.
”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.
”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”
”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”
”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”
”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“
”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”
”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.
”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.
That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.
He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.
And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.
Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.
The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.
Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.
The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.
He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.
The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.
You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.
You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”
”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.
“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms
Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.
It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.
He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.
He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.
Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.
When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.
He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.
”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.
You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.
Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.
He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.
”Did I do something wrong?”
“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.
He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.
His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.
”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.
He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.
Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.
“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.
You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.
”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.
It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.
It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.
He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.
He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.
“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.
You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.
”I love you.”
Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”
It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.
”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.
”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.
”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”
”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.
”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.
”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.
Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.
God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.
”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.
You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon
”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.
”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.
”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.
”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.
You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.
He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”
”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”
You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”
”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.
”I love you so much Simon Riley.”
His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#mw2 smut#ghost smut#ghost cod#ghost x reader smut#simon x reader#simon riley imagine#simon riley call of duty#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley cod
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In ur version, does Batman or Superman even approve of Kon and Tim being together?
Lol sorry I’m sure you intended this as an art prompt but instead I used it as a silly little writing exercise.
Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »
Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?
« Bruce Wayne
That depends.
Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »
On what?
« Bruce Wayne
On the subject matter, Clark Kent, Daily Planet Reporter.
Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »
Shoot. hang on
Superman (Justice League) »
Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?
« B
How many times a day does that happen
Just tell me. I can take it
Superman (Justice League) »
Not… that many…
« B
How many records are we scrubbing.
This week.
Superman (Justice League) »
Listen
You are the one who chose to make secret phones that are identical to normal phones
I don’t know what you were expecting
« B
It’s precautionary. In case they get lost.
They’re not identical. The Batcell’s haptic interface hardware is superior to the iPhone’s.
Slightly bigger too.
0.3mm.
Superman (Justice League) »
I’ll refrain from the obvious comment
But know I am thinking it
« B
So there’s a visual difference.
You have x-ray vision.
Superman (Justice League) »
If you think I’m going to x-ray my phone to figure out if the haptic interface software is 0.3mm larger than an iPhones every single time I need to send a text you are nuts
That’s you
« B
Learning memes are we.
Superman (Justice League) »
That’s not a meme. It’s a reaction image
I think
« B
Doesn’t a reaction image have to be sent in reaction to something? By definition?
Superman (Justice League) »
I dont know.
« B
I don’t either.
Superman (Justice League) »
Okay.
« B
You said you wanted to chat?
Superman (Justice League) »
Yes
And let me just preface this with:
I am about to tell you something and I need you to be, with all due respect, so normal about it
« B
Jesus fucking Christ, what happened?
Superman (Justice League) »
Nothing!! bad
Nothing bad
« B
Where are you? Can you call?
Superman (Justice League) »
Ok calm down, I’m fine, everything is fine
I can theoretically call but I think this is the kind of thing you’re going to want to sit with, on your own, for a second
Maybe 30 full seconds actually. Maybe sit for 30 full seconds before taking any action
« B
Kal El, I am catastrophizing at the speed of sound.
Superman (Justice League) »
Then I bet it will be such a huge relief to learn that all Im going to say is I have it on good authority that Superboy has something to tell you, and normally I would never breach his trust like this, but again: I cannot emphasize enough that I need you to be so, so normal. When he tells you. Which I have reason to believe he will, imminently
« B
Alfred has just informed me that Superboy is on the doorstep.
On the doorstep, Kal.
Of my home.
Superman (Justice League) »
Huh!
« B
He’s asked to speak with me in the parlor.
“In the parlor.” Quote.
I forgot we had one of those.
What is this.
Superman (Justice League) »
Well
I think there’s a chance Kon is about to be very, very brave, to your face
And—keep in mind I’m saying this as someone who thinks the world of you and has boundless trust and faith in your ability to be kind, selfless, and accepting—
If he doesnt leave that house with a smile on his face and a spring in his step I will ruin your life.
« B
Jesus.
I know you’re only threatening me because of that, thing I said. Last time.
And yet, it’s still effective.
Superman (Justice League) »
« B
Yeah.
Superman (Justice League) »
Yeah?
« B
Yeah.
Superman (Justice League) »
:)
« B
:)
I have to go meet your kid. “In the parlor”
Superman (Justice League) »
Be nice :)
« B
I will.
I know what he’s going to say anyway.
Superman (Justice League) »
Oh?
« B
He, and coincidentally also Robin, needs to work on his situational awareness.
With an emphasis on remembering to scan the environment for CCTV cameras.
Superman (Justice League) »
Ok to be fair there are a lot of cameras these days
« B
The incident in question took place on the rooftop of Wayne Tower.
Superman (Justice League) »
I see.
« B
Yeah.
Superman (Justice League) »
Yeah.
Unrelatedly are you coming over later?
« B
So you can ruin my life?
Yes.
Superman (Justice League) »
See you then :)
« B
Yes.
Wait.
It’s not weird now that…?
Superman (Justice League) »
Holidays may get awkward but I’m sure we will all cope.
« B
Okay.
:)
Superman (Justice League) »
Tell Kon I said hi!
« B
I will.
*
« B
Hey it’s Batman. I fucked up.
Superman (Justice League) »
What??
« B
Not with Kon’s thing. That went fine. But we kept talking and I mayh ave let something slip and I’d liek to apologize in advance bc I htink he’s on the way
Superman (Justice League) »
Kons at my window???
« B
Sorry.
Superman (Justice League) »
I will ruin your life!!!!!
« B
Nuts.
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hiii what about a regina x reader where they were childhood best friends but reader moves away. but reader moves back and goes to north shore and unfortunately sees regina acting like a bitch to someone and feels disgusted that regina turned out that way. happy ending though if that’s possible😭 idk if that makes sense😭
Childhood
Regina x Fem!Reader
I published this on wattpad ages ago and completely forgot about the request, IM SO SORRY.
I don’t know if i wrote this the exact way you wanted, so i tried my best, let me know if you want a part two.
Warnings: Mention of bullying, slight angst, nothing much more
You stare out your bedroom window, looking at the driveway of the house across the road. You begin to get bored as you have been waiting for the past hour for your best friend to come back. She had been gone for weeks, and you miss her so much. You spend every day together, talking, playing, and walking to school together (with your parents, of course).
That wasn't the point; the point was that you missed your best friend and were sick of waiting. "Mommy!" You whine, crawling downstairs to see your mom, cleaning up the kitchen. "Mommy, when is she coming back?" You ask, tugging at your mom's shirt. "I'm sorry, sweetheart; I don't know. But I'm sure she'll be back soon," your mom replies, giving you a reassuring smile. You sigh, feeling a mixture of impatience and excitement at the thought of finally reuniting with your best friend after what felt like an eternity.
You decide to go back to your room and continue waiting, hoping that she'll come back any minute now.
Regina's family had left for a road trip a few weeks ago, and when you called her on your mom's phone last night, she said she would be back for your birthday, but it was 11 a.m. and she wasn't there, and your party is at 1 p.m.
You start to feel a pang of worry creep up inside you. What if something had happened on their trip? What if Regina couldn't make it back in time for your birthday party? You try to push these negative thoughts out of your mind, reminding yourself that Regina is a reliable and responsible person.
As the minutes tick by, you can't help but keep checking the clock, hoping to see her familiar face walk through the front door any moment now.
Meanwhile, Regina and her family are in the car.
"Mom! Are we there yet?" Regina whined, asking the same question for the hundredth time. Regina reserved the same answer: "Not yet, baby." Her mom said it with a frown. Regina's heart sank as she glanced at the time on her phone, realising just how late they were running.
She couldn't shake the guilt of potentially missing her friend's birthday party. Her mom exchanged a worried glance with her dad, silently hoping they would make it in time. Regina tried to distract herself by imagining the smile on her friend's face when she finally arrived, but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away.
Regina rolled her eyes. "Mom! It's Y/N's birthday! She was there for my 8th birthday." Regina pleaded with tears falling down her eyes; she then felt the car come to a stop and say, "We are here." Regina's mom said. Regina happily jumped out of the car, running up to your house and knocking on the door. She didn't stop knocking until the door was opened.
"Regina!" An equally happy you on the other side of the door said excitedly, bringing the blonde inside and giving her a hug. The two of you stayed in the hug for a while; you missed each other so much. Your mom walked in when she heard the two of you planning to talk with Regina's mom. When she walked past Regina, her eyes went wide.
"Regina? Have you gotten taller again?" The young girl's face went red, and her eyes looked at the floor. "Mom! Don't say that!" you exclaimed. "It's okay, Y/N. I mean, you are short, and you will always be short, so I will always protect you." Regina reminds me, with a smile on her face.
The two of you rush up to your room. You jump on the bed, and Regina does the same after you. "Happy birthday," Regina said, pulling out a gift bag. You gasp, grabbing the bag and opening it. Inside was a jelly cat bunny and a matching necklace to the one Regina was wearing. "Put it on me!" you say, and she smiles, putting it on you.
The people at the party started to come over. You had an amazing time, opened a lot of gifts, and ate a lot of cake. It was now 6 p.m., and everyone had left except for Regina and her mom. You and Regina were currently sitting on the couch, your heads in her lap, watching for Nemo.
"Regina! Y/n, Can you two come here?" You heard your mom's voice yell from the kitchen. You and Regina raced to the kitchen, smiling when they saw both your moms talking, but they didn't look happy.
"Can you please sit down?" Your mom asks, and you cluelessly both sit down next to each other, facing them. There was a small moment of silence before your mom spoke up, "Y/n, baby, I have some news." Your mom said quietly, and you listened closely, waiting for her to say something.
"We are moving tomorrow," she says.
You feel your heart break; you didn't want to be away from Regina; she was your best friend, and you couldn't survive without seeing her every day. "Houses? Schools? Or": You ask, tears starting to form. "Both, and states," your mom says. You look down and play with your figures, so annoyed with how she didn't tell you earlier.
The whole move happened so fast, and before you knew it, you were standing outside your house with your things backed away, holding the stuffed animal that Regina got you, and wearing the necklace.
She pulled you in for a hug. You stayed in her arms and cried. You didn't stop holding her until your mom said it was time to go. "We will see each other one day." Regina recalled, You nodded, walking into the car and saying goodbye, which could be for the last time.
~
Present Time
And you were moving back to your old state. The move to New York was good but your dad lost his job, he got a new one back where you used to live. You were slightly nervous that you would bump into people that you used to be friends with, mainly Regina.
You were nervous as you looked at your new school, moving into a new school in senior year was interesting but you couldn't really do anything about it. You walk inside the school and immediately feel out of place, like you don't belong.
You walk inside into a classroom that you think is your home room and the first thing you see is a girl dressed in all black, sitting on a table, with her feet up on an empty table beside her, you look at her for a second and you gasp when you realise who it is.
You walk up to her with a smile on your face, "Regina! Oh my god! It's been so long!" You exclaim, moving to sit next to her, she rolls her eyes at you, not moving her feet from the desk you were sitting at.
"Do I know you?" She asks, voice bitter, not sweet and caring like you remembered, "Yeah, we used to be friends-" you start but she cuts you off, "First off all, It was a rhetorical question, dumbass, second of all, I would never be friends with you." You frown at her words and get up and move from the desk, you were worried that you had mistaken her for someone else.
You later found out that it was Regina, you found out that she was a bitch, she was a bully and treated the whole school like shit.
But that was your old best friend and you were going to prove it to her, and you knew exactly how to do it.
It was lunch time and you walked into the cafeteria, you walked past everyone and they stared at you as you walked to the plastics table.
Regina started up at you as she felt your presence, she was about to tell you to fuck off but you beat her to it, you throw the necklace that she got you 9 years ago, for your birthday and she looked at it for a few seconds before she finally realised who you were. She stood up and grabbed your hand.
"Y/n." She whispered.
#regina george#mean girls 2024#regina x fem!reader#regina george x reader#regina george x you#regina george 2024#lesbian#gxg#mean girls#reneé rapp#wlw#fluff#angst#janis imiike x reader#cady heron#mean girls x reader
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That's My Girl
♡♡♡♡♡
Emily Engstler x Reader
- You're at Emily's game, and someone tries to hit on you
- Emily pushes someone and almost starts a fight
- Reader has a little y/n moment
- I don't know a lot about basketball (by a lot, I mean nothing)
♡♡♡♡♡
Your cheeks were red from the heat in the room, and your mouth was tired from all the shouting. You clap your claps and cheer your girlfriend on as she scores a 3-pointer. "Hell yeah, Emily!".
She looks at you and points before making a heart sign, winking at you. You smile to yourself at the gesture and watch her jog to her team. On her way, an oppent shoulder checks her, and you can see them tell her something, looking you.
You notice the anger that appears in Emily's eyes before she pushes the woman. Your brows furrow as you fight the urge to walk over to them. She's about to yell at her, but one of her teammates comes to stop her. They say something to her that makes her turn around to look at you. You give her a smile in hopes that it'll help with what just happened. Thankfully, you can see her calm down as she smiles back.
You notice the opponent player still looking at you, and you give them a dirty look. What did they want? You roll your eyes and ignore it to put your focus back on the game. As the game goes on, you notice the same player looking at you, but all was forgotten when Emily won the game. Confetti flew everywhere, and most of the crowd cheered as some groaned and started to walk away.
You cheered as loud as you could for her before getting up to congratulate her. A hand stops you, though, and you look up to see the same player. "Hey, pretty thing, I'm Hayley," a nasty smirk was on her face as she obviously checked you out. You gave her no time as you told her, "I have a girlfriend," and continued on your way.
This time, she grabs your arm and pulls you to her. Emily, wondering where you are, notices this, and marches to you. You yank your arm away from Hayley. "Get off me!".
"What the fuck did I tell you?!". Emily shoves her, almost sending her to the ground. Hayley gives a roguish smile, putting her hands up in moke surrender. "Hey, man. A girl gotta enjoy herself.". You could tell that she was only doing this to mess with Emily. You try to pull Emily away from the quarrel. "Love, let's just go. She's not worth it.".
Emily gets closer to the woman. The two become face to face, making the argument more heated. Emily's fist tightened as she's ready to make the first punch. "That's my girl!". You hurriedly get better the two before anything can happen. "Emily!" you call, hoping to get her attention. Hoping for no fight to happen.
Her eyes soften when she looks down at you. "Let's go," you quietly demand. She glares at Hayley one last time but grabs your hand and walks away with you. She brings you to the locker room so she can get changed from game clothes. Anger and jealousy still fuming from her.
"Are you okay?" you hesitantly ask as you watch her. She shakes her head and scoffs. "I should be asking you that.". "I'm fine, Em," you reassure. "I was asking about you.". Emily sighs and looks at you. "I just hated seeing her do all that.". "Fucking bitch" she murmers.
You softly laugh, "Yeah, she is, but she's nothing compared to you.". You walk to her and put your arms around her neck. "Damn right, she isn't," she says, leaning in for a kiss. Your lips meet hers. Her hands rub against you and move to your ass, softly grabbing it before moving to your back.
"I love you and only you, Em" you tell her, messing with the hair at the nape of her neck. "I love you too, ma," she kisses your head before resting hers against it, "and only you.".
♡♡♡♡♡
I'm sorry for it being so short and rushed🥲. I started it a while back and didn't know/remember how to finish it💀
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Bleeding Heart Syndrome
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2.6k
Warnings: angst, bucky kills someone, implied smut
Summary: Deciding to give this another try, you want to prove to yourself that Bucky is more than just the murderer you know him to be. He takes you to his work to show you that he runs a business like any normal person. However, when someone makes one wrong comment, you're reminded why your heart bleeds because of him.
Between Love and Hate Masterlist
Squares Filled: no modesty (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
Then
It didn’t matter how many dates you and Bucky went on, you were still nervous to have him over. You decided to bring him over to your house for a homemade dinner. Your mother taught you how to make a delicious pasta dish that you were just dying for Bucky to try.
Bucky pulled up to your house with Steve and Sam in the car. Bucky checked the time for the tenth time since leaving his mansion. Living this double life was getting too hard to conceal. You were getting closer to him and asking all these questions that he couldn't answer. He was trying so hard to keep you in the dark, but how long could he do this?
Sooner of later, his past was going to catch up to him.
“Should we follow you up?”
“No,” Bucky sighed. “Just stay out here.”
Bucky got out, walked up to your door, and knocked. You jumped from the sudden noise but rushed over to the door. You opened it to see Bucky standing there looking drop-dead gorgeous.
“Right on time,” you smiled and let him in.
“Is something burning?”
“Shit.”
You left his side and ran to the kitchen. You yanked the pan off the stove and checked on the vegetables in there.
“Need help?”
“Actually, yes. My mom taught me this recipe but I never said I was good at cooking it,” you chuckled.
Bucky shed off his jacket only to drape it over the back of the chair. His muscles bulged in the tight shirt he was wearing. Forget dinner. You wanted him. Bucky took over the process and made it his own despite you telling him how your mom made it.
“Check on the noodles.”
You took a single strand of noodle and threw it at the wall. It stuck to it like it was glue.
“It’s ready,” you grinned.
After draining the noodles, you poured them into the pot that had the sauce. The noodles flowed over as a bunch so that they splattered inside, causing the sauce to spray out. You gasped when it touched your neck and Bucky smiled when he saw a red drop on his white sleeve.
“I am so sorry,” you giggled.
Bucky pulled you close and leaned down to press his lips on your neck. He licked a stripe up your skin to gather the sauce. Your giggle turned into a moan when you felt his lips latch onto your skin.
“No fair, Bucky,” you moaned. He nibbled on your skin right over the spot where you needed him the most. “Wait, the food needs to go in the oven.”
Bucky pulled away and quickly placed the dish into the oven at the right timer. He turned to you and grabbed your waist so he could sit you on the counter. He leaned in again but you backed away before his lips could touch yours.
“Wait, we only have thirty minutes before the food is done.”
Bucky tilted his head to the side and did some math in his head.
“Six times.”
“What?”
“I can make you come six times before the oven goes off.”
You didn’t have a chance to say anything as he whisked you away to the bedroom.
Now
You open your eyes and see that it’s not a dream; Bucky found you and took you to one of his mansions. Being back here will mess with your head in a way that makes you think you’re not going to survive this. Still, you get out of bed and push down those feelings. You don’t want to feel this way. You want to be able to love him and go on dates without fearing what will happen if someone bad crosses your path.
You want to love him in the way you deserve but you’re not sure how.
Someone is cooking something delicious in the kitchen, and your stomach rumbles to let you know that it wants food. You put a cardigan on and head downstairs to the kitchen where a chef is cooking breakfast. You must have passed by ten of Bucky’s men, all armed and ready for anything that might come their way.
This makes you feel like you’re in a prison, not someone’s home. Will you ever feel at home here?
“Here you go, Miss Y/N,” the chef says and slides you a plate of food.
“Not hungry,” you sigh and push it away.
“Eat.”
You look to the left and see Bucky walk into the kitchen dressed in a suit. However, his white shirt is untucked and open revealing his toned stomach and chest that you love so much. His tie is slung over his shoulders and his hair is damp from his shower. He is practically half-naked in front of his own chef and men. This man has no modesty.
“You’re not my dad.”
Bucky pours himself a cup of coffee before turning to face you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he finishes getting ready. Your eyes follow his fingers as they work their way down his shirt. He tucks his shirt in and begins working on his tie next, and you snap your eyes up to his.
“I’m not in the mood to argue. Eat.”
“No.”
Bucky finishes with his tie before walking over to you. He is so intimidating while standing but with you sitting down next to him, it’s almost impossible not to shrink back into your seat like a little kid.
“You can be pissed at me all you want but you’re not skipping out on a meal. Eat.”
“Or what? You’ll force me?”
Time seems to slow down the longer he stares at you. Then, he grabs your jaw not super tightly before forcing your mouth open.
“Yes.”
You push him away and grab the fork to show him you’re complying with his request. He waits until you take two bites before leaving your side to tend to his coffee. Damn, these eggs are soft and fluffy.
“Happy?”
“I have to go work,” he says instead of answering your question. “I’ll be back later.”
“Off to kill someone?”
“I do own a business, you know,” Bucky sighs. “A business that will crumble if I’m not there.”
“Can I go with you?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
“You want to come with me?”
“Yeah. It beats being alone in this house with a bunch of strange men with large guns.”
“There are many more are work.”
“Will you let me come or not?” you sigh.
“Go get dressed,” he says after a beat, “after you finish eating.”
You quickly down the rest of your food before heading to your room to get dressed. Bucky waits patiently for you to finish before escorting you to one of his luxurious cars. He keeps the music low and maintains a reasonable speed. For someone who murders people, you’d think he’d want to speed all the time. No, he’s too busy thinking about you and driving carefully in order to protect you.
You might think he’s a monster but he’s never stopped loving you.
When Bucky arrives at his skyscraper of a building, he leads you inside with a hand low on your back. The receptionist sees him and flashes him a flirtatious smile. She subtly fixes her dress to make her boobs stand out, and you glare at her as you pass by.
“Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”
“Good morning, Tate.”
He keeps it simple without so much as a look at her but that doesn’t stop her from trying to gain his attention. She looks at you and almost shrinks back into her seat from the glare you’re giving her. You two step onto the elevator and begin the journey to the top floor.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” you ask and look at him.
“You’re giving her the same look you gave every woman who tried to flirt with me. Remember that poor girl you made cry on our second date?”
“Shut up,” you snap. “There is no look.”
If you could, you’d wipe that smirk right off his face. Thankfully, he drops it for now. The higher you go, the more men with large guns there are. Bucky wasn’t kidding before. You know what kind of work he’s involved in but how much protection does one man need?
“I’m in meetings for most of the morning but you’re more than welcome to stay in here. My computer password is pisică.”
“Of course it is,” you laugh humorlessly.
“If you need anything, I am only down the hall.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
Bucky resists the urge to go over to you and kiss you. You’ll come around and he just needs to be patient. As soon as he leaves the room, you walk over to the giant window that overlooks the entire city. Damn, he has such a nice view. You take in his office and notice personal pictures on his desk.
All of them are of you. There is one with you two standing in front of a mirror with his hand around your throat. You thought it would be a good picture at the time. You had just taken three shots before going to dinner so you thought this picture was a good idea. Another one is of you at the beach he took you to. He bought it out so that you two could enjoy some privacy and he caught you soaking up as much sun as you possibly can. The third one is of you laughing because you had pulled a prank on Bucky and he couldn’t miss an opportunity to snap a photo of your smile.
You don’t realize you’re crying until you taste salt on your lips. You were so happy in these pictures. This was before you knew what Bucky did. This was before reality slapped you in the face. You’re not sure what to do but you know how you feel. You love him so damn much but you’re hating yourself for loving a murderer.
You sit at his desk and log into his computer. He must not have anything incriminating on his computer if he’s going to let you snoop without him in here. All this power but you’re not going to snoop in places you don’t belong in. He trusts you and after all this time, you’re not going to let that break.
Instead, you go to Amazon and smirk when you see what’s floating around in your cart. If Bucky is so rich, he won’t mind if you spend a few thousand dollars on shit you want but don’t need. It’s not like he’s going to miss the money.
Bucky’s phone pings at a notification from his bank. Someone spent over five thousand dollars on Amazon, and he smirks when he realizes you’re out there spending his money. You might be doing it to spite him but he loves it when you spend his money. He confirms the purchase through a text message before returning his attention to the many men inside the conference room.
Some of the men are involved with different mafia’s from around the country, some men are CEOs of different businesses, and some men are important in their perspective fields. All of them are interested in the weapons Bucky sells. He’s become so successful that he delivers to everyone across the country. They all flock to him like cattle.
“Gentlemen, I have an epo coming up soon in New York that will showcase the weapons I have for purchase. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come but the price is set. NO discoounts will be given.”
That sends some of the men in an uproar. They’ve been doing business with him for years and they’re still treated like first-time customers.
“Come on, Buck, don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable with your prices?” One of the Mafia men, Antonio, asks.
“You’re more than welcome to go somewhere else. Oh, wait, you can’t. I’m the only one with the shit you want so take it or leave it.”
Antonio shuts up knowing he can’t take Bucky on right now. Instead of fighting him, he leans back in his chair and stares at Bucky. The meeting continues on for another two hours as they discuss the weapons expo and Bucky’s telecommunicaiton sector that sells privacy for computers. Bucky looks at his watch and sees it’s almost lunch time so he decides to address one more thing before concluding this meeting.
“One last thing before this meeting is done.” He looks at one of the men who is one of the best drug lords in the couontry. “Race, tell your men to stay the fuck out of my goddamn bar. They’re brewing up trouble.”
“I can’t stop my men from going where they want to go,” Race shrugs.
“Maybe if one of them has a bullet in their heads, you’ll ge tthe message.”
Race rolls his eyes but knows better than to argue with Bucky. Before anyone can say anything, someone knocks on the door. Everyone turns their heads to you when you open the door and steps inside.
“Oh, sorry,” you sutter.
You turn to leave but Bucky stops you.
“Come here, pisică.” You walk further into the room and try to ignore all the stares you’re getting from the men. Bucky hates that they’re all looking at you like you’re a piece of meat but he doesn’t start a fight he knows he will win. Antonio keeps his eyes on your ass longer than the rest of them, making Bucky’s blood boil. When you get to him, he pulls you inot his lap despite the blush on your cheeks.
“Never be sorry for being where I am. What do you need?”
“I’m hungry,” you whisper, hoping no one else can hear him. “I wanted to go out and get lunch.”
“Take Steve with you.”
You look into his blue eyes in thought. You don’t tell him that you wanted to go out to lunch with him. Instead, you nod and get off his lap.
“Cute girl you got there, Barnes,” Antonio chirps. “You gonna pass her around or what?”
You freeze in your step, clearly uncomfortable with his comment. Before, Bucky was willing to let his wandering eyes slide. Now, he’s a dead man.
“Take Steve with you to lunch. Go,” Bucky says to you.
Thankfully, you don’t argue with him. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear the clear sound of a gunshot. If his comment made you freeze, you’re fucking rock soldi now. Still, you peek into the room through the small window on the door. Antonio is slumped over in his chair with blood splattered on the wall behind him. He’s dead. Bucky killed him. You look up and lock eyes with Bucky who still holds the smoking gun.
He hates that you’re crying because of him.
You immediately turn and run from the room to where the elevators are. You barely get on when you hear Bucky’s voice call for you. You turn to him with tears running down your cheeks.
“No, I’m fine, Bucky. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”
“I wasn’t going to let him live after what he said.”
The elevator doors start to close but you put your hand out to prevent them from doing so.
“That’s the problem with you, Bucky. Your immediate response to everything is death. I shouldn’t have come here. You should return to your meeting. I’ll have lunch alone.”
You let go of the elevator doors and continue to stare at him until the doors closing breaks your eye contact. Your heart is breaking because he is the best thing to have ever happened to you, but how can you ever get past something like this?
x
Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fiction#bucky barnes fan fiction#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#marvel fan fiction#marvel fanfic#marvel fan fic#mcu#marvel#mcu fanfiction#marvel fluff#marvel fiction
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How would youtuber reader react to Spencer getting seriously hurt at work? I'm talking hospital hurt
:(((
cw: mentions of hospitals, spencer gets shot :(, reader is SO worried
wc: 617
youtuber!reader masterlist
++
“Where is he?”
Your hair was a mess, you were in sweats with two different shoes on, and you're pretty sure you collected a traffic ticket or two. You didn't care though. Spencer was hurt.
“Y/N!”
You rushed towards Penelope, and any other time you would have minded your tone, but that was the last thing on your mind. “Where is he?” You were panicked– rightfully so.
“He’s still in surgery.”
“Do they know anything?” You didn't mean to raise your voice, especially to Penelope, but you couldn't help yourself.
“He was shot in the abdomen, I’m not sure where exactly, but they're working really hard to make sure everything is okay.”
You pulled at your hair as you fell into the closet seat near you. The team was lingering around, everyone wanting to comfort you, but knew better than to talk to someone in this state of distress.
It was a long wait. Five hours. Spencer would've been able to tell you the exact amount of time. When the doctor finally came out, they had a hopeful look. You didn't want to assume anything, you didn't want to be hurt. They told you he would make a full recovery and that he was lucky, very lucky. One inch to the left and it would've… you don't know, some medical term that scared the shit out of you that you can't seem to remember as you now sit next to his sleeping figure.
You've been there all night, refusing to leave his side. You fell asleep sitting in the crappy hospital chair pulled up by his bed, and it was around 6 a.m the next morning when he finally woke up, letting out a groan that caused you to jump up awake.
“Jesus Christ, Spence.” You got up immediately, and moved around the room to grab the cup of water a nurse left.
“Sorry,” his voice was hoarse, and he was still in the process of opening his eyes.
“Here, drink this.” You gently held the cup for him, allowing him to sip through the straw, “and don't apologize, you got shot, you're in pain. I just need you to heal.” Once he had enough water, you placed it down on the table beside him. “I need to call the nurse.”
“Don't go, please.”
You reached down and squeezed one of his hands, “I will be right back. They need to check your vitals, you know this, Spencer.”
And so you got the nurse, she checked his vitals, and got the doctor in to go over what happened with Spencer. He winced quite a bit at the words they were speaking, and when they finally left, you couldn't help the sob that erupted from your lips.
“Hey, what's wrong?” He turned his head towards you, eyebrows furrowed with worry.
You continued to cry, only able to speak in small intervals. “You–” another sob, “Spencer, you could've–”
You don't even have to finish your thought because Spencer already knew, “I know, I know.” He reached for your hand, and pulled you to sit back down beside him. You slumped over so that your forehead was lightly resting on his shoulder. “I’m right here. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”
You were trying to catch your breath between the sniffles and hiccups, “I just can't imagine– imagine you not here. I love you so much, Spencer.”
He hummed and brought a hand to your head, brushing your hair back. He wanted to say it was a hazard of the job, but he knew better. So, the two of you sat there, listening to the beeping of the machines, feeling lucky enough to be in each other's company.
++
youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat @itsleilabxtch @strabarrybat
let me know if you would like to be added or removed!
#oh my loves :(#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#dr spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#youtuber!reader
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ANGST FEED US ANGST PLEASE
to conceive . . . ( kunikuzushi )
[ male reader, kingdom ! au, angst, trans ! kunikuzushi, infertility, sex. fujoshis, mlm fetishizers, dni. ]
he’s broken, he concluded. kunikuzushi felt tears well in his eyes, his hand instinctively going to his flat belly – a harsh truth that it will forever be that way. the mage, who broke the news to him, gave him an empathetic look.
what would you say? will you be mad? no, no, he knows you won’t be. you’re the kindest emperor ever. it was why he felt such a failure that you, a king, chose him, a mere commoner before you made him your consort, but he failed giving you an heir.
he won’t be pleased, he will hold a grudge against me, kunikuzushi’s mind kept slipping in the dark as he heads back to your shared chambers. he will find someone else—
he sits on the bed. it was only now that he noticed his shoulders were shaking violently as he sobs. he’s failed his sole purpose in life, of giving you an heir. he felt so undeserving of his title as your consort – you put him on such high regard, defend him whenever other nobles gets too rowdy with their mouths, and yet he can’t even pay you back by bearing a child.
that night, kunikuzushi laid on his side of bed, far away from you. he would usually be buzzing with excitement whenever he sees you at the door, but now...
“beloved,” you whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “has something happened? come, please, love. talk to me.”
your soft, reassuring tone made him crumble. for the umpteenth time that day, he cried. he gripped the sheets tight that his knuckles turned white. he sniffled.
“oh, love.” the next thing kunikuzushi knew, he was sitting on your lap; your arms were around his waist protectively. you gazed up at him with nothing but deep love and admiration. he doesn’t deserve you, you deserve someone better than keeping being wed to someone broken as him. “why do you cry?” you asked.
“i – i...”
kunikuzushi lets himself be selfish and clung onto you, putting his arms around your neck and sobbing against your shoulders. he grips your robes tight, afraid that you’ll slip away – but he knows you aren’t like that.
in the dim moonlight illuminating your chambers, you held him as he cried. you didn’t pry after his stammering, you just let him cry and cry, until he felt like there are no more tears coming out of him. he sniffled, steeling himself. he still holds you tight. “i w-went to the mage, earlier,” he hiccups, and you run your hands up and down his back gently, letting him know that you’re listening. “and... and i’m...” he felt tears again – it seems like there are more. “i cannot conceive. i-i’m broken! i’m infertile, i cannot give you an heir! i’m so sorry, your majesty, i am so sorry – please, forgive me — ”
through his mantra of “you deserve someone better, someone who can give you a child,” you console him by cupping his cheeks gently in your hands. “you are not broken, my love. it’s... it’s okay. there are plenty other ways of getting a child, yes?”
no. no. he knows how much you value tradition. surely you can’t just adopt a child, not of your bloodline, and raise them to rule the kingdom for the future. he knows you are only saying this to make him feel better, and he wants to slap you for it.
“hush, now, darling,” you said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “it’s okay.” then, you kissed him, chaste and soft. in spite of himself, he leaned into the kiss. he’s so selfish for allowing himself be in your presence further.
when you pull away, he’s already gripping the collar of your robes tight and pulling you back against his lips. he kissed you so earnestly and demandingly, as if wanting to prove something. please, don’t replace me. i can still be a good spouse, please...
you obliged with his advances. pushing your tongue in his mouth, he can’t help but moan, one which was muffled against your lips.
you laid him on the bed, and, without breaking the heated kiss, you began undressing him while he’s already slipping your robes off your shoulders. he was urgent, while you took your time.
you kissed down to his jaw, neck, to his soft, small mounds of breasts, taking a nipple into your mouth while your hand massages the other – kunikuzushi moans, arching up to you.
in the back of his mind, a cruel voice keeps whispering that he doesn’t deserve this; your mouth, your fingers that are pushing into him, your sweet, sweet words in his ear – none of this he deserves, but he’s selfish, always has been. and so, he indulges.
he cried as you pushed into him, and you were no better, breathing heavily against the crook of his neck. kunikuzushi wraps his legs around your waist, the action made you go deeper, and his eyes rolled back at the sensation.
you’ve set a steady pace as to not overwhelm him, but he just wants you go harder and faster, to be rough, as his punishment for being a failure and being infertile. his nails clawed at your back, and you groaned, biting his neck in retaliation.
the warm feeling of your cum pooling in his belly was a cruel reminder for kunikuzushi that it will not take. again, he cried.
some time later, you and him were at the massive table, with only the two of you eating. time and time again, you’d reassured him that it is okay that he cannot conceive, that you still love him no matter what, and he was starting to believe it until your advisor opened his damned mouth: “your majesty, if his highness kunikuzushi continues to fail giving you an heir”—you can’t help but scowl at the words he’d chosen—“isn’t it, perhaps, the time to look for concubines?”
you saw kunikuzushi tense. though before he hears your answer ( you’ve got no plans of agreeing, however ), he’d already hastily stood up and ran away, tears in his eyes. your heart breaks for him.
#[ lost stories . . . ]#top male reader#male reader#angst#kunikuzushi x male reader#dom male reader#sub kunikuzushi#bottom kunikuzushi#scaramouche x top male reader#scaramouche x male reader#sub scaramouche#bottom scaramouche
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re: egg discourse
i thought it was just people saying that specifically making jokes about someone being trans but not knowing it yet can be kinda invalidating and sometimes traumatic. are people actually saying you should never tell someone that they might be trans?
i dont really have a side in the debate it just feels like people are willfully misunderstanding eachother and its making my brain hurt
"making jokes about someone being trans but not knowing it yet can be kinda invalidating and sometimes traumatic"
Sure, but it also isn't for a lot of people. And, a lot of people I talk to say egg jokes helped them realize who they were. Though I do think part of this resistance to an egg joke is actually internalized transphobia at points (the idea of being compared to trans people is being treated as degrading in a lot of these people's arguments) the truth of the matter is different people need and want different things. Me making eggs jokes with my friends is not your friend group.
This is why the recurring complaint of our side is it's never egg jokes can make people uncomfortable, 'make sure your friends are cool with them before just doing them,' it's always complaining about trans women forcing cis men to be women or trans women being "transvestigators" or "similar to Christian missionaries." People who are uncomfortable with egg jokes are always projecting their discomfort onto other people, other friend groups, and portray harmless fun between friends as something abusive.
Like for example,
this is a projection. the egg jokes people are talking about happen among friends and stuff, but this person is doing a whole "never make egg jokes because people did it about me and made me feel bad" (oh woe is you, people thought you might be transgender, how disgusting to be a tranny). The majority of egg jokes are not about random ass people, it's within friend groups. And, if you don't like your friends saying them, tell them to stop. If they don't? Then stop being their friends. Also from that post
The underwater filter butchered that. I know you can't read it but I wanted to post it cuz fucking look at that. What the hell. Anyways,
This opposition to egg joke people always talk about strangers. As if we're walking up to random people on the street and making egg jokes about them. It's mostly contained to friend groups. This is just an inaccurate portrayal of what's actually being discussed, and I'm sure the op will be like "I'm talking about my experience!" but OP openly admitted that this rant was relevant to a random blogger complaining about an egg tweet a woman made about her own friend group that neither this OP or that blogger are part of. They are actually dictating how strangers are allowed to act and identify with this, not the egg jokesters.
Yeah, once and a while you get shit like "Aaron Bushnell seems transfem" which was a completely innocuous convo that no one would have seen if well known transmisogynists who accuse random trans women of pedophilia like three times a year hadn't found the post. It was a trans woman seeing herself in someone important in history, and even if someone said something inappropriate, the backlash was undeserved. Yall say embarrassing shit all the time and no one's running you off the web site for it.
I'm sorry this person and others seem to have a bad time with egg jokes (though most of the time, what they describe isn't egg jokes but that's a whole other thing), but their few experiences can not be used to determine a blanket response to something so many people actually do enjoy and find useful. I'm especially not gonna take a cis person's opinions on egg jokes seriously (since so many have seemed to gotten involved and think their opinion on this matters).
"are people actually saying you should never tell someone that they might be trans?"
Yes! That's like, the entire underlying premise of this! Like, 100% this is the backbone of every anti-egg joke argument. That's the entire concept of "egg prime directive." And, it's overwhelmingly weaponized against trying to help transfems realize themselves sooner than they would. From the aforementioned Bushnell drama, to the polls where a shit ton of transmascs voted it was ok to tell an eggy friend they might be a trans man but NOT ok to tell an eggy friend they might be a trans woman, to the newest drama where chongoblog whined about a random trans woman on twitter making egg jokes about her friend (which it was later revealed chongoblog misrepresented the tweet), the anti egg joke committee / "You can't tell anyone they're trans!!!" crew are always wielding this ideology against transfems / trans women but practically never against transmascs.
This is why it's constantly said that these posts and arguments are transmisogynistic in nature. "I'm a trans woman and I say eggs jokes are bad, so it can't be transmisogynistic you're just using that as a shield!" That's great but 1) maybe read between the lines, or read the criticisms you're clearly ignoring and maybe you'll see these people don't respect you 2) the whole "using transmisogyny as a shield" is like, classic transmisogyny at this point. We've been hearing that from anti-feminists, cryptoterfs, and trans woman hating google doc writers for a few years now and 3) you being complicit doesn't mean we gotta care about what you say.
"it just feels like people are willfully misunderstanding eachother and its making my brain hurt"
Oh, I'm sure this is absolutely the case. The problem is a bunch of transphobes are really who spurred a lot of this drama up earlier this year and instead of people thinking "oh these people have bad intentions I shouldn't boost this" they instead were like "Yeah! I don't like egg jokes!" and now we have to deal with trans women making egg jokes (normal, harmless, pro-trans and literally want to help trans people) being compared to transvestigators (a literal anti-trans hate group thing). The issue is people aren't treating us as people, and thus it gets returned in kind.
What's the answer to this? Mutual understanding that "some people need to be told they're trans," "some people don't respond well to being told who they are," "egg jokes can help people and be a fun joke for friends," and "some people are uncomfortable with egg jokes" can all coexist. But, honestly, I don't think we'll ever get there.
#and final note: this is not hostile to the asker#it's just me finally dissecting the disk horse instead of being a mean dick about it#asks#ranting#egg discourse
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Heart of the Dreaming
Morpheus x Female Reader
Soulmate AU
You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}
Chapter Four - Pocket full of sand
☆☆☆
You had been locked away in that house for so long that you had no idea just how much the world had changed. You had never really been to London before, but you were sure even then it had been much different to the London you are in today.
You turn around to see Dream composing himself. He looked a little... tired, dare you say. He looks at you silently.
"You alright?" You ask.
He nods and then turns around. It's dark out, not many people around. He would know Constantine when he saw her. She had his sand.
You stand a good few steps away from him, holding yourself. You didn't bring a coat. You didn't exactly have time to bring anything. You were in a city you couldn't navigate, and your only companion was a strange man who had told you you were his soulmate.
It was a lot to take in one night.
"Constantine."
You turn around to see Dream looking at a woman in a long coat. She doesn't exactly hang about. The conversation is short as she directs his attention to a raven that has landed on the bench behind you. You find yourself confused at its sudden appearance. It seemed to be watching Dream.
"I do not need a raven."
You look at Dream, confused. The man was talking to a bird. Of all the crazy things you've seen so far in regards to this man, this was the craziest.
"Lucienne said you'd say that," the raven spoke.
You stare at the bird with wide eyes. "It's talking?"
"Uh, I'm Matthew," the raven replies.
"It's talking!"
Dream stands beside you and looks down at the raven. He doesn't act like he heard what you were saying. His attention was fully on the bird. "I do not need a raven," he repeats.
"Respectively, sir, you do." Matthew caws.
"Go back to the Dreaming."
"Look, she's got away!" Matthew exclaims, looking behind Dream.
Morpheus turns and finds Constantine has completely vanished from sight. She's made sure to put distance between them.
Dream turns to you. "Fine. You stay here with him. Don't move."
"What?" You look at him with slight panic. He can see it in your eyes.
"Just wait for me."
Dream walks off, and you scoff in disbelief. This man, who is supposedly your soulmate, has the audacity to "rescue" you from your family home and then abandon you in an unfamiliar city? The universe could have chosen someone with more dignity at least to tie you with.
You sit on the bench with a huff. Matthew cocks his head to the side, looking at you intently. You turn and glare at him, causing him to take a few steps away from you along the back of the bench.
"So, uh..." He snaps his beak gently, making a clicking sound, "who are you?"
"No one important," you sigh.
"That can't be true. Wait, are you the woman Lucienne mentioned? She said he had gone off to rescue someone."
"Does everyone know about this?" You ask.
"No? Not that I know of."
"I'm sorry, but how are you talking? You're a bird!" You look at him.
"I don't know. I just... am. I wasn't always a bird, mind you. I was like you once."
"Like me?"
"A human." He cocks his head again.
"Oh... What happened?"
"I, uh... I died."
"Oh... I'm sorry." You frown.
"It's fine. This is my life now." He ruffles his feathers a little. "So, uh... Are you just gonna sit here?"
☆☆☆!!!!!!!
Morpheus finds Constantine within her nightmare. He'd standing there when she woke. She states at him for a good few moments and then speaks. "For fuck's sake." She sighs. "How did you find me?"
"You were dreaming. But it wasn't only a dream, was it? It's a memory. No wonder you do not sleep."
"Maybe I don't deserve to."
"Perhaps not." He says to Constantine. "But I could make it go away."
"Only if I help you find your sand."
"Though finding anything in this place may require more magic than even you can muster."
Joanna falls silent for a moment and then gets up. "I'll look in the office. Try not to clean up while I'm gone."
"I'm coming with you," he says. "You have a gift for disappearing."
"All right. But if the mess in here offends you, wait till you see my office."
The office was so much worse.
Constantine started going through her things, hoping the pouch would pop up somewhere and she could get this over with. She didn't particularly want him hanging around.
"Why do humans love objects so much?" Dream asks.
"They do come in handy sometimes." Constantine tells him. "You seem pretty attached to your sand."
"It's not just an object. It's a part of me."
"If that's true, how'd you happen to lose it?" She asks, looking at him.
"It was stolen by a magic user called Burgess."
"Wait, not Rodrick Burgess? The old demon king himself, eh? Everyone used to say he was a fake. Said he had the Devil locked up in his basement. How the fuck did you..."
She looks up.
"Shit." She walks over to him. "Were you down there? All this time?"
His lack of response was in itself an answer.
Morpheus plucks a set of photos from a box and looks down at them. They picture Constantine and another woman in them.
"Is this you?" He asks.
"Why? Do I look that different?"
"No. Happy."
A moment of silence passes.
"Shit." Constantine whispers. "I know where your sand is."
☆☆☆
Dream had gone all the way to Rachel's apartment. He had first gone to Constantine's, assuming she had the sand there, but it became rather complicated quickly.
Turns out the sand was at her exes. An ex she hadn't seen in quite some time. He was ready to go inside with her, but she told him to wait outside.
She needed to do this alone, apparently. However, he was reluctant to let her out of his sight. She had a tendency to disappear.
While he waited outside, he turned to see you walking around the corner.
"I told you to wait," he scolded. Though you wouldn't say you felt overly threatened by him.
"We got bored."
"We?"
In that moment, Matthew flew down and landed by your feet. Dream was far from pleased. "I told you to wait for me."
"If we're soulmates or whatever, shouldn't I help?" You ask, looking at him just as unimpressed.
"No."
You scoff softly. "You're hard work, you know that?"
Dream says nothing as he stares at you, hands in his pockets. It's Matthew who breaks the awkward atmosphere between you both. He really doesn't know what's going on, and there was very little time to ask about it.
"You know you can't trust her, right? You should really go in there."
Dream shifts his eyes away from you. Matthew had a point.
"Wait here."
This time he was wanting you both. You cross your arms and watch him go inside. You stand there for a moment before slumping down onto the ground.
"That bad, huh?"
"I've known him less than a day, kind of. Well, I've known of him a while. It's complicated. Soulmates or whatever. I don't care about some stupid divine bond." You sigh.
"So, it's legit? The soulmate thing, I mean."
You lower your wrist to his level and show him the scar. "I got this the day I first set eys on him. Sometimes, it burns. Though it hasn't for a bit. It's what binds me to him, I think."
"Hm. So, why do I sense so much anger toward him?" Matthew caws.
"He's insufferable. We have this weird bond, and he has the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. He rescued me less than an hour ago, and now we're off on some strange quest to get... sand?"
"Well, yeah. Lucienne told me about that. He's getting his tools back," Matthew says.
"His tools?"
"His sand, his helmet, and his ruby."
"I'm so lost."
"How do I put this? Lord Morpheus is the dream lord. He is king and creator of the Dreaming, his realm. His tools include a pouch of sand, a helmet, and a ruby. Without them, he doesn't have much of anything."
You listen to Matthew speak. "I see."
"It's important he gets them back."
"I've gathered that much. I just... I don't see why I have to be part of any of this. Fine, I'm not going to grow old and die, but do I have to stay with him?"
"I don't think he's going to just let you go," Matthew caws.
"Why not? He doesn't need me."
Matthew goes quiet.
Constantine leaves the apartment and walks off, looking not so perky anymore. Not long after, Dream comes out and follows the direction she went in slowly.
You rise from the ground and watch them. He hadn't even glanced your way. Matthew goes on ahead to join the two. You keep your distance, watching them talk.
Constantine says something to Matthew, and then she looks up at you. She stares at you for a while and then turns and walks away under her umbrella.
Dream looks at the pouch in his hand and then looks up at you. "You're still here."
"You told me to wait."
"You could have run," he says flatly.
You glance at Matthew, who looks up at you. What he said earlier flashes before your mind. Dream probably wouldn't really let you go. "Yeah, well... whatever."
Dream stares at you in heavy silence. You hate it. You hate the way he looks at you. You hate the way he doesn't say anything. You can't say you're all too fond of him either.
"Stop looking at me."
Dream turns his eyes back to the pouch. "Come here."
You sighed and walked over to him, standing where Constantine had been standing just moments before.
"So, where are we going next?" You ask.
"Hell."
"Hell? Like metaphorical Hell or... Hell Hell?" Matthew caws.
Dream stares at you silently, and you swallow nervously. "Hey, I didn't agree to... that!"
"My helm is in Hell."
"I don't care. Hell? That's crazy." You yell at him quietly.
He just stares. He slowly raises his pouch and opens his other hands. He gives you time enough to walk away, but you don't. You know what he's doing. He pours the sand into his waiting palm, and it flows around the three of you in a blanket.
There really was no going back now.
☆☆☆
@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker
@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic
@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda
@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever
@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi -
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Obsessed In Love II
-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-
Pairing: Yandere! Checo Pérez x gn!reader
Warnings: Dark themes, yandere, hints to drugging, kidnapping, suggestive, badly translated Spanish (sorry)
Notes: You asked for a part 2 so I had to deliver... And just imagine both Checo and the reader live in the smse country as the race because that's one if the only ways that the start will make sense. Also I'm working on a Mark Webber request so hopefully that will be out at some point!
Summary: What happens when you wake up in a random bed with no recollection of the day before. You just accept it because nothing weird could have happened...right?
Part 1
-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-
You wake up with a huge headache and in an unfamiliar place. Well not wholly unfamiliar, the top of the bedpost looked slightly familiar. You give it some thought and realise that Checo has a similar bed if not the same one. Not that you keep track of Checo's bed or anything... You had seen Checo's bedroom in the occasional Red Bull mandated video call here and there but that was about it. Despite your close relationship on track, that was it. A truly professional work relationship that unfortunately didn't extend to many outside of work hours or walls (as much as Checo had tried to invite the whole team out just to see you there). You feel very grogy waking up and can't remember much of the end of the previous day. After you finished filming the video, your memory becomes cloudy.
You groan and stop yourself from trying to remember too much of yesterday else it will give you a headache. You go to get out of bed, still not fully processing the fact that you werent in your own room only to find you were caged in by something heavy lying around your waist. Your eyes widen. Oh no... you weren't alone. You curse at your foolishness of not realising that if course you'd be with someone else if you were in a foreign room. You lift the person's arm up (damn they had nice muscles) and turn on yoir side to see if you recognised the person beside you. The last thing you'd have ever expected dthough was to see your boss. Sergio Pérez. "Oh sh-" He groans slightly at your disturbance of the peace and sleeping adjusts himself so he's lying with one leg draped over you, face buried in the side of your chest.
At his sudden change in scenery, he begins to wake up. You wait with baited breath to see his reaction and as his sleep drowsed eyes meet yours, you swear you see a small smile flash across his lips before he sports a similar shocked face to your current one. He rubs his eyes and sits up and as he repositions, you note that his leg is still touching yours. He smirks and begins to speak in an odd attractive, rapsy morning voice (gosh you shouldn't be having these thoughts) "Not that I don't want you in my bed but what are you doing here querida?" You shake your head and shrug.
"I-I don't know..." You try and cast your mind back to last night when your predicament finally settles. You. Your boss. Alone. In his bed. You gasp. "You don't think we...?" His eyebrows raise at your suggestion. You avoid his eyes and feel the flitter of your heartbeat at the thought. You ahd always had a thing for him (not that you'd even admit it to yourself). He shakes his head. "I hope not." You feel yourself frown and physically deflate at his words. You can't help it. "Wait no, querida I don't mean it like that..." You turn and face him and raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "It's just- well. Never mind." He looks down almost embarrassed and you scoot closer to him. "Go ahead. I won't judge." He meets your eyes again and smiles softly. "Please forgive me if I'm being to forward but I just feel like a moment like that would be magical and I just wouldn't want to forget that."
You're left speechless at his words and feel your cheeks warm. You identity your mouth to say something but he cuts across you. "You don't need to say anything I just wanted to get that off my chest." You nod and smile at him. "Now what kind of a host would I be if I didn't make breakfast for you?" You laugh softly at his words and tilt your head in amusement. "His smile widens at your clear enjoyment if his words and so he continues. "You stay here Querida and I'll go and make some breakfast for us." He leaves the room, closing the door with a gentle click. You stretch out and enjoy the feeling if his soft bedding (that smells exactly like his cologne that you've notices often in your time working for him) whilst you look around at his room, taking in all of the new sights.
☆-☆-☆-☆-☆
Checo made a wonderful breakfast and after he beconed you to the dining room, you lost track of time just talking. So much so that when you look at the time, you realise that you need to arrive at red bull hospitality in less than an hour. "Shit." You curse your luck as you look down at your clothes still from yesterday. Checo raises his eyebrows at your profanity and you explain to him. "I need to go and get changed for FP1 and I think my house is too far away!" You scramble out of the chair and through the doorframe you went through as you came downstairs.
You don't when clock Checo's distant calls until hes right behind you as you bend down to put your shoes on. "Cariño, there's no use. You won't make it on time." You hang your head in shame and finally accept what you refused to moments ago. "However, I do have some clothes lying around that I'm sure would fit you and you could wear to work!" You meet his eyes and cast him a grateful look.
☆-☆-☆-☆-☆
Checo end up giving you an entire set of new clothes after you shower and wash your body (as per his instructions). In your still stresses haze, you don't question why he has clothes lying around his house that really do fit you well. You're impressed that he gives you an entire outfit. Well bar a shirt but he says that you'd be fine just to wear one of his red bull shirts. You put on the Red Bull shirt (unsurprisingly his own metch with a little SP11 over the right breast) and you try and style the slightly baggy shirt. When you exit his bedroom where he let you change, you fail to notice the hungry pair of eyes or the ravenous,possessive gaze that comes with them.
☆-☆-☆-☆-☆
Checo was kind enough to drive you and when you eventually reach the doors of Red Bull hospitality, you're on time to the minute. You ignore the suspicious glances that everyone is casting the both of you for arriving together and you head to your office to get the schedule for today.
You walk back out to the foyer and are greeted by Max. You smile and wave at him, exchanging a few pleasantries as your eyes scan the room and doorways for Checo. You find him in the adjacent room and as Max's on assistant comes to tech him, you walk over to Checo. He's hunched over his phone with a prominent scowl on his face. "Are you ready to go to your driver's room?" You ask the Mawxican. He perks up at your words and nods as he walks off to get changed.
☆-☆-☆-☆-☆
FP1 goes by eith next to no issues. There is a good variety of cars performing well at the track and unsurprisingly, both the red bulls have good pace. You sit down. You've been feeling a bit dizzy all throughout the day and can't help but have a small inkling in the back of your mind that this isn't the first time this has happened today. By the time both Free Practise sessions and all team meetings have ended, you go to see Checo in his driver's room. You knock gently on the door and wait.
The door opens with a soft click. "Hello querida. Come in." He gestures you inside and you take a seat at one end of the sofa. You continue to talk. You find yourself caught up in a large rant with Checo not responding to anything. You turn to look at him only to notice his eyes firmly set on you. "What? Is something wrong?" He just shakes his head and you watch as his eyes give you a quick glance up and down. Suddenly, you become hyperaware of your close proximity and before you can give it any more thoughts, your lips meet with his.
You whine softly at the contact and thread you hand into his hair. He puts a hand gently on your waist as you pull apart for air. You look into us eyes and can't help but blush at what just happened despite where you found yourself this morning. He places his hand gently under your jaw and tilts your head back up. You meet his dilated pupils and he jumps straight back in to a much more passionate kiss this time filled with more tongue. The two if you fight for dominance with your mouths but in the end it is him that wins and the two of you continue to kiss until you feel a slight thrombin in your head. You pull back and smile at the man. "Sorry. I've just been having the worst headache all day." He nods sympathetically. "I get it cariño. You You rest for a bit and I'll wake you once I've finished the right up for today and we can go home. You forget about your surroundings as you lean your head tentatively against his shoulder. You see him pick up his laptop on the side table and continue to type. As you drift out of consciousness you swear you can hear a low mumble of what appears to be "Eres toda mía ahora, ¿no?" Followed by a small kiss to the forehead.
You're all mine now, aren't you?
☆-☆-☆-☆-☆
You stir softly later in the evening when the moon is still high in the sky and the light of the stars shiens through the small crack in the curtains. A part in the back of your mind begins to worry as you're not in your own bed once again but you're
put at ease when you hear the distant voice of Checo in the distance. You Don even try and pay attention to his conversation, clearly in Spanish, and waltz right back into the open arms of slumber waiting to be woken again hopefully with your newfound lover by your side.
☆-☆-☆-☆-☆
Checo whispers in loud, harsh Spanish to the person on the other end of the phone.
"No, no me importan las consecuencias... Sí, lo entiendo... Pero ahora son míos, eso es lo único que importa... No, no escaparán, estoy seguro de que puedo mantenerlos aquí para siempre. .. Oh, encontraré una manera. No te preocupes."
No I don't care about the consequences... Yes I get that... But they're mine now that's all that matters... No they won't escape, I'm sure I can keep them here forever... Oh I'll find a way. Don't you worry.
-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!
As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome.
Taglist (irdk if this is anyone's thing so sorry if it's not). @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @minkyungseokie @checoverstappen @pasteljesse @deliciousfestsalad
#f1#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#f1 fanfic#yandere sergio pérez#sergio pérez x reader#sergio perez x reader#sergio checo pérez#sergio perez#sergio perez x gn!reader#checo perez x gn!reader#checo perez x reader#checo perez#yandere checo#tw yandere#yandere
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Matchup Event
Matchup for: @dukemira
Matchups: Fu Hua, Firefly, March 7th
Contains: fluff, nsfw, creampie, mentions of bondage, mentions of choking, mentions of temperature play, soft sex, public sex, mentions of nipple play
A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Honestly, with Firefly's section, I have no idea how to bake so I apologize if anything is incorrect!
Ask: Long time no see I guess? Haha, anyway it's been a while and you look good, also congratulations for your 1000 followers! Okay I'll start. I will use Mira as the name, my mbti is INFJ, and my zodiac is Virgo. I'm a listener type person, I'm not speaking that much, unless the topic is interesting (or I like the topic) for me, I'll ramble so much. Many people see me as a stoic person, like I don't really care what happened later, or right now Even if it gets me in trouble. You could say I'm a hardworking person, I'll try everything to achieve what I want. If you don't mind, I would like to choose both. My first date scenario? Maybe we watch stars and aurora while drinking hot coffee and some snack (I like quiet place, irl I always go out at night like pm and go home at 3 in the morning lmao) it's just, so refreshing y'know? I'm indeed a dominant, and more into vanilla sex, soft, gentle. (Sometimes I wanna tie them up, and close their vision) (pls don't match me with male characters) The fandom Im in, honkai impact and honkai star rail.
Fu Hua
╰┈➤ SFW ;
: ̗̀➛ Like you, Fu Hua often takes late-night walks to clear her mind. The day she decided to take a different route for a change of scenery, she had no idea that this choice would end up affecting the rest of her life.
: ̗̀➛ It all starts off as the both of you passing each other on a quiet, isolated street; things like you glancing at the woman the first time you saw her because of how rare it is to see someone else around these hours. The most you'd get were stray animals and the occasional taxis, and you liked it that way.
: ̗̀➛ Your overly carefree attitude towards life and Fu Hua's overly cautious and apprehensive nature perfectly balance each other out like yin and yang. Not one is greater or worse than the other; both are inseparable as are the sorrows and joys of living that you'd gladly experience with each other.
: ̗̀➛ Change is a fearsome thing. All of the insignificant differences come together until eventually, you realize that your surroundings have already changed beyond recognition. Fu Hua firmly believes in this, and yet, it was the same change that brought her to meet you. As such, you're also the one to introduce her to new things. It takes her a bit of coaxing, but she's willing to try anything as long you're with her.
: ̗̀➛ Generally speaking, the two of you have so many similarities and just as many differences. Somehow, though, you make it work. Not because you just happen to be the right person for each other, but because you want to make it right.
"Fu Hua?" Your voice breaks Fu Hua's train of thought. She'd been gazing up at the sky for a while now, reminiscing about the past as she does so. It's not something she particularly chooses to do the first dusk of every new year, but she always ends up doing it nonetheless.
"Ah, you're awake. Did I wake you when I got up from bed?" She turns to you with a somber yet warm smile on her face. Her gaze goes down to the two cups of hot chocolate in your hands and mutters a small "thank you" as she takes one of them. You shake your head in response to her question. "Mm. I just got a bit worried when I woke up and you weren't beside me."
"What are you thinking about?" You ask before taking a quick sip of your drink. The dark and rich taste is perfect for calm, quiet mornings like this. Last night was filled with celebrations and festivities, and now that they're done, the city has fallen asleep. The sun peeks out through the horizon to greet the start of the new year.
"It's nothing important. It always amazes me how quickly time can pass and bring change." Her gaze falls down onto the jewelry shop at the corner of the road. It used to be a small diner run by a nice elderly couple. They had a dog; a small Australian terrier named Winter. Ironically enough, Winter did not like the cold. She wonders where they are now and how they're doing.
The two of you sit in comfortable silence, the sunlight illuminating the unlit city. Fu Hua smiles at the sound of the dogs barking; it's the one thing that has stayed constant throughout all these years. She hopes spending mornings with you like this will become one of those things as well. "Happy New Year, my love."
╰┈➤ NSFW ;
: ̗̀➛ Very vanilla and traditional so Fu Hua thinks she should always be submissive, at least at first. She's open to trying out new things in bed. We all know that she'd be submissive regardless of her old fashioned mindset, though.
: ̗̀➛ Fu Hua is open-minded when it comes to kinks, so she's willing to try anything at least once as long as it isn't anything too extreme or unhygienic.
: ̗̀➛ She's really big on safe sex. Fu Hua is actually very educated on sex despite having little to no personal experience with it/things related to it, mostly because she's had to give her disciples "the talk" before.
: ̗̀➛ During sex is when Fu Hua is the most emotionally vulnerable. She accidentally slips out words that she'd be way too prideful to say in any other situation, says "I love you" a lot more than usual, and reaches out to hold your hands subconsciously.
: ̗̀➛ She can go for a lot of rounds, but afterwards, she's immediately falling asleep. She'll try to give you the best aftercare she can (even if you were the one on top,) with the energy she has left, but the most she can probably do is get you a glass of water and a towel.
"My love..." She sighs, desperate and needy. Her legs rest at either of your sides as your hips rut slowly and softly against hers. Slender, calloused hands rest on your back, clawing ever so slightly whenever you hit a certain spot inside of her.
The room is dimly lit with scented candles, your clothes scattered on the floor while sensual music plays in the background. A scene telling of the romance and passion between two lovers.
You adjust yourself to hit deeper inside of her, and Fu Hua sings. She sings your name like an angel gently comforting you with her embrace; soft, and loving.
Feeling yourself nearing climax, you groan her name and bury your face into the side of her pale neck. As if in unspoken understanding, her fingers reach out to intertwine with yours, and her legs wrap around your waist.
Your hips stutter, and you fill her deep with your cum. Her chest rises up and down as she catches her breath, and she looks ethereal. You're set on spending the rest of your life with her.
March 7th
╰┈➤ SFW ;
: ̗̀➛ You and March 7th are the epitome of the saying "opposites attract." Or so, people say. While that might seem true on the surface, you actually have a lot of similarities like two stars in different galaxies, shining with unique brilliance yet connected by the vastness of the universe.
: ̗̀➛ For example, the two of you like quiet places; only for different reasons. You like quiet places because you like being able to be at peace and be alone with your thoughts. March likes quiet places because she can often find you in them. She loves bustling atmospheres and the blinding city lights, but she loves you more.
: ̗̀➛ Her troubles affect her more than they seem to, and when she can't silence the negative thoughts in her head, it's you that she comes to for respite.
: ̗̀➛ There's something about you that makes March feel so... safe and secure. She feels comfortable telling you about things that she'd normally repress herself. You keep her grounded. You help her get through the bad times and replace them with good ones.
: ̗̀➛ You care for her and try to comfort her the best you can, but you don't really care about things like "who she used to be" and "what she even is." Human, alien, or even as an emanator, you'd love her all the same. What matters to you isn't her past, but the future that you can have together.
"Hehe..." March looks up at the new ring you bought for her. The cold, silver metal shines when the moonlight hits it just the right way. To her, its glint symbolizes your love and the future to come. "Do you really like the ring that much?" You ask since she's been staring at it intently ever since you first got it for her. Of course, you're flattered since you also chose it, but you know March can be a bit overdramatic sometimes.
March turns to you as soon as the question leaves your lips. "Of course! You bought it for me, after all." She smiles with pride. You chuckle at her reaction and pat her head. "I'm glad you like it, but don't dote on it too much. I can always buy you a new one, y'know?" You weren't exactly rich, but that ring wasn't exactly expensive either. It was just something you bought because it seemed to be her style.
"Sure, but every gift from you is special to me. Even if you get me an extravagant wedding ring one day, I'll still treasure all of the handwritten notes you leave me sometimes." You blush at the implications of marriage. Of course it's been on your mind too, but to hear March mention it so casually has you feeling a bit bashful.
"When that time comes, let's get a big house and a whole army of pets! Ah, but that might make it difficult for the express... What about 5? Or if Pompom allows us, 10?" You chuckle at her ambition. You can already imagine Pompom going crazy with cleaning all of the fur. Still, a future like that with her sounds quite nice.
"We'll get as many as you want, March."
╰┈➤ NSFW ;
: ̗̀➛ She's not a stranger to the concept of sex, but there are a lot of things that she doesn't know about it. Despite that, or maybe because of that, she's always wanted to try.
: ̗̀➛ March 7th mostly bottoms--she counts on you to take the lead since you're more knowledgeable. She can definitely be the dominant one if asked, though. Top or bottom, her main goal is for both of you to feel good.
: ̗̀➛ Getting tied up and wearing nice lingerie are her favorite things! The intricate designs make March feel prettier, so she sometimes wears them underneath her clothes just for that confidence boost.
: ̗̀➛ She's up for it anytime anywhere mostly, but she's a bit hesitant to have sex in busier places. She likes it when there's a chance of someone spotting the two of you in the act, but she doesn't want to actually get caught. That would scar her for life.
: ̗̀➛ Loves it when you get more assertive. She loves how gentle and caring you are with her, so seeing a side of you that's so different gives her whiplash in the best ways possible.
: ̗̀➛ Her nipples are the most sensitive part of her body. She could have an orgasm just from you playing with them. A close second is her neck, though. Whether you leave kisses all over it or choke it ever so slightly, you're sure to get her gushing in her panties.
"I swear to Akivili, I'm going to kill you once all this is over!" March whisper shouts, turning to face you with an angry red all over her cheeks. Whether it's from embarrassment or arousal you're not sure.
The Astral Express had been invited to a fancy dinner, and as a result, you're spending the night mingling with the other guests; mostly the bigwigs of the planet you had just arrived on.
Or so, that's how March expected the evening would go. Now she's sat on your lap, legs spread as she gets fingered by you under the table. To others, you'd merely look like a young, naive couple in love, unaware of how her cunt drips slick and clamps down on your fingers.
Everyone turns their heads towards both of you when March whimpers in the middle of her sentence. She's quick to dismiss their concerns, and you chuckle at their cluelessness, saying March is just feeling a bit nervous.
You hold her gently by her chin and press a seemingly chaste kiss on her lips, swallowing her moans as she cums all over your hand. The rest of them are left none the wiser to the filthy acts the two of you are committing behind the scenes.
March hates how good you can make her feel.
Firefly
╰┈➤ SFW ;
: ̗̀➛ Your relationship is one full of secrets, but neither of you really mind. You understand that everyone has things that they wouldn't want anyone else to know, and that being their partner doesn't make you an exception.
: ̗̀➛ She doesn't question you when you come home at ungodly hours of the day. You don't question her when she comes home smelling like smoke and motor oil. You rush into each other's embrace regardless of the day you had beforehand. It gives you comfort and warmth and makes you feel like nothing else matters other than being in your lover's arms and the steady beating of their heart.
: ̗̀➛ Her favorite activity to do with you is baking! Neither of you is particularly skilled at it, but she finds the experience therapeutic and wants to share it with you. Firefly also has fun experimenting with the recipe to see what works the best.
: ̗̀➛ Firefly is a very kind and gentle partner, but only when she's awake. When the two of you are in bed together, (which is very rare considering how different your schedules are,) she becomes a heartless monster who hogs literally all of the blankets and pillows. Yes, blankets with an s. You've tried to solve this problem by getting your own, but to no avail.
: ̗̀➛ Honestly, it'd be pretty easy to take the blankets away from Firefly since she isn't very physically strong, but you can't. She just looks so peaceful asleep like this (despite leaving you vulnerable to the cold) and you know that she's tired. Hell, it's probably been a week or two since she's slept this well. You just don't have the heart.
"See, all you have to do is place the icing into the bag and..." Firefly rambles on about the techniques she uses when decorating pastries, even going as far as to give you a live example on the cake rolls the two of you were currently baking.
You cherish every second of these comfortable, domestic moments with her given how rare it is for the two of you to have the whole day to spend with each other like this.
However, there is one problem.
Earlier, you noticed that she accidentally put salt instead of sugar when making the batter. Should you tell her, or let her taste the consequences of her actions?
As you're faced with this life-threatening dilemma, Firefly looks up at you with a concerned expression and asks, "Are you okay, Mira...? We can always do this another time if you want."
For a moment, you almost take pity on her. Thinking of all the nights she took all the blankets and pillows (albeit unconsciously) and left you without protection against the cold, you make your decision. This blanket hogger must be brought to justice.
╰┈➤ NSFW ;
: ̗̀➛ It's good that you're more into soft sex because that's quite literally all that Firefly can handle. Seriously. Don't go rough on her unless you want her to get sent to the hospital.
: ̗̀➛ She can get a bit insecure about this and think that you deserve someone that you won't have to restrain yourself for during sex, but you reassure her that isn't the case and that intimacy isn't the most important part of your relationship with her.
: ̗̀➛ Due to how frail she is, it takes a lot of trust for her to engage in intimacy with someone. Chances are, you're probably her first time. She trusts you to not only make her feel good, but she also trusts that you'll be gentle and respect her boundaries.
: ̗̀➛ She's more on the vanilla side, but being physically weak doesn't stop her from having a few kinks of her own. For the most part, she'd be into getting blindfolded and temperature play.
: ̗̀➛ Whether Firefly is on top or not, she's way too gentle to ever hurt you, even accidentally. She's definitely the type to ask for consent/ask if you're feeling good every 5 minutes, regardless of how horny and desperate she might be.
When Firefly walked through the door with a sense of restlessness in her footsteps, rushing to take off her coat and straddle your hips as you sat on the couch, you already knew what she wanted.
Every time she's away at work (if you can even call it that) for a long time, she comes back all tense and desperate to please you. It's her favorite way to destress, she says. Still, you can never get used to your sweet and gentle Firefly being so... lustful.
Of course, you don't mind and you'd gladly help her take her mind off work, but the contrast in her behavior never fails to catch you off guard.
She buries her face into your neck, breathing heavily as her hands fumble for the waistband of your pants. "Pants, please?" You snap out of your inner monologue and help her.
Once she looks up at you, you can't help but notice the glint in her eyes. It's... different, and hungry. You can't help but be glad that you don't have to wake up early the next morning.
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Prompt: someone takes reader to the airport, but only to have their car break down on the way.
Warnings: swearing, angsty? Fluffy, kissing, confessions of love, suggestive language
Enjoy!
══════════════════
The look on Matt’s face when you told the triplets you accepted the job in London, absolutely devistated you.
You knew you needed to go, you also knew that the feelings you once had for him haven’t gone away either.
The decision to break up and stay friends, was mutual, but you both know, that to this day, it was still the worst decision you both ever agreed on.
The days leading up to your flight were heartbreaking as you spent time with your few close friends and of course, the three boys you grew up with.
Each time you left, Matt went to his room before you were out the door. You spent nights out in your car talking to Nick about everything, and he agrees that you should go, it’ll be best for everyone.
One thing Nick said to you one of the nights was as follows, "The Universe sends us exactly what we are ready for at the exact time we need it in our lives.”
It stuck with you since, but you felt like you were overthinking it, at times, like when Matt didn’t go straight to his room the night before you were set to leave.
Or when you got that phone call from your friend saying she couldn’t take you to the airport, family emergency so you let it slide.
You were in a panic. Every one you called was already booked and busy.
Expect one.
You let out a sigh as you tap on Matt’s name, your heart racing as you hear the first ring.
“Hello.”
“Matt?” You ask, not even bothering to hide your nervousness that shakes within your words, “Sorry it’s.. so late..”
“Don’t be. What’s going on?” He asks, voice slightly raspy. It was clear that you had woken him up, “Um, I was just..” you pause before letting out a sigh, “Nevermind. I’m sorry for wa-“
“No.” He raises his voice slightly and sighs, “I-I mean, No. you don’t have to go, y/n. What’s going on? A-Are you in trouble?”
“No I- well. Actually, yeah.. kind of.” You give in, “I need a ride to the airport tomorrow night.”
The line is silent for a few seconds before Matt answers, “It’ll be just me if that’s okay. Chris and nick are going to a party.”
“If you’ll need to pi-“
“Y/n.” Matt cuts you off, his voice lower, almost a whisper, “Please let me do this.”
You close your eyes, taking in a quiet breath, “Okay.”
——
When you opened your front door, Matt was standing there with a, clearly forced, smile, “Hi.”
You press your lips together and give him a small smile as you wheel your two suitcases out of the door. You sling your carry on over your shoulder and by the time you look back, Matt is already walking to the car with your cases.
You were dreading this.
A lot could happen in the hour from your house to the air port.
“Which airport?” He asks as he grabs his phone to pull up the maps. You lick your lips, “Um, it’s LAX.” He nods, tapping his phone before setting it down.
The first twenty minutes of the drive was silent, nothing but the other cars passing and the music playing on the radio filled the tension filled silence.
“So did you just ask me because you didn’t have anyone else?”
His question, the way he asked it, sounded awful of you. You look over at him, “I didn’t want to have to ask you.”
“Why?” He glances over at you and you look away, “I just.. with how you acted when and ever since I told you about London...” You look over at him, he’s looking away, “Matt, the way your face sank..“ you lower your voice, “It broke my heart.”
“Being told you’re losing someone you don’t want to lose and not being able to do anything to stop it is also enough to break someone’s heart.”
You close your eyes, the burn from the tears welling in them cause you to tense up for a second but both of your attention is taken away to the car when it starts to sputter and you both jolt forward.
“What the fuck?” Matt curses as he veers off the road. He puts his four ways on and you look in the mirror and over at him, “What the hell happened?”
He shrugs, turning the car off and trying to start again but the engine just clicks and then it goes silent.
He does look at you, “Are you okay?”
You glance over at him, frowning when you see that he isn’t looking your way, “Yeah. I’m fine. I just-“ you look at the time, “I have to be at my gate in twenty five minutes.”
“Okay, okay.” Matt grabs his phone, “Can you call Nick and tell him that I’ll be late to get them?”
You nod, calling Nick while he figures out the car.
“Miss me already?” Nick asks as he answers. You roll your eyes, laughing slightly, “I mean yeah, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Um okay?”
“Matt’s car broke down, we’re like I don’t know..” you glance over at Matt who has his phone pressed to his ear, “Like twenty ish minutes away.”
“Y/n, your plane takes off in twenty ish minutes.” Nick mocks you, “Is Matt calling someone? I don’t-“
You hear Nick fill chris in and Matt starts speaking, “Yeah, I’m about twenty minutes away from the LAX Airport..” he hums, pulling the phone away from his ear as he tells them what street you’re on.
“Okay. Thank you. Mhm.” He hands up and tosses his phone into the cupholder. You turn your attention back to Nick, “Hold on.”
“They said they can get someone out here to look at it as soon as they can. She said it could be up to an hour.”
All you hear is Nick say, “The universe, babe. It’s on your side.” Then the three beeps.
You pull your phone away from your ear and stare down at your lap.
“What did Nick say?”
Matt’s voice snaps you out of your daze, “Oh, um. They said that.. they’ll find a way home.” You look over at him, “Do you.. I don’t know.. ever have moments, where you’re like.. wow the universe actually loves me?”
You look over at him, laughing anxiously. Matt gives you a confused look, “What are you saying?”
You turn towards him, glancing back at your bags in the back seat, “I’m saying.. maybe Nick was right.”
“About?” He raises his brows and you look back up at him, “A few nights ago, Nick told me something.” You laugh slightly, “He said something about how the universe will send us what we are ready for right when we need it most and-“
Matt leans over, cutting your words short with his lips on yours. His hands slide to your cheeks, holding your face gently as he deepens the kiss before pulling his lips away from yours, “You’re right where you’re meant to be.”
You give him a slight nod as your hand comes up to lay on his, eyes looking between his and his lips, “With you.”
He smirks, a smile forming as he grips your chin, “With me.”
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I hope you liked this, let me know what you thought! As always, I love you! 🖤 thank you for reading!
Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
#samandcolby-ownme#snippet#snippets#Matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#cute matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo blurb#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x y/n#matt sturniolo one shot#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#Chris sturniolo#sturniolo one shots#the sturniolos
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Fantasy of the Day: Domme-y Mommy
"Just because you're 1,500 miles away from your parents doesnt excuse you from needing to be a responsible adult.
I rolled my eyes once more, last thing I wanted right now was a lecture. "God you're starting to sound like my moth- Hahahaha!!"
"Excuse me young lady, what was that?"
I panicked, shrieking with giggles. She KNOWS that I dispise being tickled. Nonetheless, things like this happen when your Mistress knows you've been being a brat.
"I'm sorry Mommy! I-HAY-am sorr'hehehe Mommy! Hahahaha... Stoooop!!"
"This was NOT what we did last time we were in he-HEHEHE-re, Ahh-hahaha!!" Her fingers jotled me like shocks of electric torment.
"Parties, skipping work, those tramps you call friends? Oh cutie, you're on a path of destruction and can't even it see it. Listen to Mommy, because another makeout session isn't going to make me forget when the rent is due on the 1st."
Betraying my trust and tricking me into a ticklish lecture was SO not cool. Cackling under her fingertips, I felt outsmarted, and my only choices now we're to listen and suffer.
"Where are you gonna go huh? Go on, tell your Mommy that you're a big girl and know hoe to take care of yourself. Make me believe it."
With sensitive thighs and a deep hatred for tickle torture, someone in my position feels quite compelled to say whatever it is one wants to here.
"FUUuuUU-CK YOU'HOUHOU HAHAhhHaha!! I'll go to work I PRO-HAHAHA-MIS!! Mommmyyy'hehehehe!?!"
After about a dozen more minutes of having my entire body scratched, raked, poked, and handled, and after about two dozen desperate 'I'm Sorrys' I think we we're able to hear each other out.
"I'm sorry Mommy... Oh Gawwwwd hahaha, I'll be good... I swear...! Hehehe... Mommy~~!"
#tickle community#tickling#tickle#tickle blog#tickle kink#tickles#tword community#ticklish#foot tickling#tickle scenarios#ticklish soles
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This is my first post and first time writing something like this so apologies if it’s not good!!
You were only 15. Moving across the world to okay football. Away from your family, friends and home. When you joined Arsenal you already had your fellow Aussies there which provided some sort of comfort. You also had Sam or sammy as you called her. She was like your second mum and you loved her like one aswell. Everyone at Arsenal thought you were the happiest girl. You joined in pranking people with Kyra and joined in on jokes with Katie and went to every team bonding session there was. But what people didn’t know was every night you stared up at your ceiling wishing you were at home. Sure you loved the club and people but at 15 it was still a lot. Your living arrangements were made by the club so you stayed at Leah’s as she had an extra bedroom and was in a position to take care of you. One day you couldn’t do it. The fake smiles the fake laughter the fake happy act. You just couldn’t keep it together. You called your mum up even though she was absent you hoped she still cared for you and loved you. “Mum please let me come home” you sobbed into you phone as everyone was at lunch and you didn’t want anyone to see or hear you. “I’m sorry Y/N I can’t you have your friends there lots of girls dream of things like this” she responded. You cried more. “I’m begging you let me come home I can’t do this anymore I’m only 15-“ “y/n for the last time I’m not having you back here you were a burden before and I don’t want you here” she said angrily. That set the last past of you holding it togther of. “Quite whining you’re not coming home” as she hung up the phone. You let the tears run down you face but then eventually got your self togther and decided to get yourself back togther. Splashing water in you face smiling the smile that was so familiar yet not, into the mirror. What you didn’t know was Kyra and Alessia outside the bathroom listening to you sobbing and talking to your mum. They knew how hard it was transferring to a new club let alone at 15. You took a deep breath and went out there only to be met with alessias and Kyra’s saddened faces. You knew then they heard the conversation and yet you still denied it. “Are you okay y/n” alessia asked genuinely with sadness in her eyes. “Yep 100% are you guys okay? You look a bit funny” “y/n we heard what happened in the bathroo-“ “what nothing happened you guys must be imagining things” you then smiled and walked off going to join the others at lunch. Kyra and Alessia shared a look not knowing what to say. But they knew they were going to have to tell someone.
If you got all the way through without cringing congrats :)
#arsenal wfc#arsenal wfc x reader#woso community#woso fanfics#arsenal#wsl#alessia russo#kyra cooney cross
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