#it did feel like that was the direction they were going
Text
gravity / ln
lando norris x fem!reader
reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n.
where your life with him is just beginning.
yes! yes! i have insane brainrot for lando norris! yes! this is meant as a single 'oneshot' of sorts, but i am open to taking requests of this so called 'universe.' reader here is a stem major, particularly physics (shoutout to the stem students!) which helps perfect the progression. also was inspired by interstellar.
wc: 15.2k woops!
warnings: smut! -- MINORS DNI!!, porn with a lot of plot! angst, drinking, language, friends to lovers, corruption kink (minor), choking, soft!top lando.
it was all consuming; he was, at least, with his curly hair, upturned eyes, smile that brightened the entire room. utterly irresistible, any woman could agree. they’d jump his bones the second he gave them a lingering glance, a playful wink. but that’s all it ever was with those girls— glances, observations. but you, on the contrary, were a fixation. an obsession, one might call it— actually, someone has before. but you ignored it and let it fly over your whimsical head. how could a man like lando norris ever glance in your direction like he did those models, influencers?
you were always just his friend. his best one, yours too you’d admit only in the solace of your lonesome in the hours of the evening. you met him when you were studying abroad in london at the ripe age of nineteen. you were there on a research term for a professor at your university, though it was much far north of london's borders. still, the girlfriends you managed to make would insist on your attendance to the night club scene on the town.
who were you to deny any pleasantries? a hardworking student. a student with a vision, a dream to be more than what society compressed women to be. you’d rather be out to the stake like a medieval witch than become a loftily homemaker. while it was some of your friends desires, yours stretched far beyond the horizon of which any life was palpable.
a nerd in short terms.
you studied physics. with as much fun as your girlfriends had in the club, you found it in the quiet evenings if your research. you’ve devoted a great deal of time for your studies, but hey— every girl lets go here and there.
the one time you did, you met him. in the late evening hours of the bustling club, drink in your hand, short dress sticking to your sweaty skin, he scared your close friend, laurel.
“boo,” he had said with a low tone, grabbing the girl with a blonde bob by the shoulders. she shrieked despite the loud atmosphere and spun around, slapping him on the chest.
“lando!” she exclaimed, which had your attention drawn upward from the half bitten olive in your martini. he was taller than her, than you, muscularity built with a low taper cut of chestnut hair. he was freckled, and the first thing you noticed about him was the way that his eyes smiled.
they curved up at the edges and you could feel the warmth of the sun drip in from the rooftop. even though it was past midnight at this point.
“i didn’t know you were coming,” laurel breathed at an awkward pace then turned to face you. she outreached her hand for you to take with your free one. you did, feeling warm from the alcohol that you had downed from the night.
“lando, this is my bestie from school,” she introduced you by name, to which you gave a small, dramatic courtesy towards the brit. his eyes caught on your act, gleaming with something you could even see in the yellow hued lights of the club. “this is lando norris, rookie of…what team again?”
you glanced from laurel to lando, brows raised. he hesitated for a moment, gracing you with a lopsided smile that, in time, you’d come to adore.
“mclaren. formula one racing.” he answered, taking a hand to brace the back of his neck. he felt the need to clarify for you, which you took in earnest. he earned a light ahh in your reaction.
you were impressed, to say the least. you hadn’t ever met a formula one driver in the flesh, nor you could say you were a devoting fan. of course you knew what it was, watched it on sundays when your uni friends would turn it on, but that was it. as smart as you were, it seemed that someone knew more about something than you did. you reeled.
“and you like it?” you said after a beat, swirling the toothpick inside the olive around your finger. lando seemed to contemplate your words, taken back by such a question. without a doubt he liked racing, otherwise he wouldn’t do it. but that’s not what she was asking, was she? it weighed on him more as his mind unraveled the layers to such a question, but he ended on a simple answer:
“i don’t know if i could love anything more.” a jest, playful and lightheaded when it came from him.
but how the whims would be tested over the years.
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a year later
“a whole season, lando?” you asked him, hands drawn out before you to iterate the sincerity of what he was asking.
a season of going to races with him.
you were graduating within the next two semesters. twenty two now, whereas he was twenty three. but you had qualified to graduate early, as your intent was to do as such, but the tempting leave of absence form that sat in your lap tempted you even further.
you sat in his monaco flat, a frequent place you visited or stayed until you recently gained residency in monte carlo. it was efficient enough for what you needed to do for work— france around the corner, italy to the west. the best physicians rallied in europe, and staying in the isolated united kingdom was not the best option for you. you caved at his months of pleading to move to monaco.
your legs crossed as you glanced from his pacing, anxious position. your fingers tapped incessantly at the piece of paper before you, pre-addressed envelope sitting on the coffee table.
“why not?” he questioned, putting his hands up in defense, stopping before you. he looked down at you, his heart thundering in his chest. say yes he wanted to plead. his knees felt weak. wobbly as your eyes looked back at him, determined. he loved that look. it drove him wild, enchanted by how the cogs of your brain turned.
you sighed, looking off to the side out the floor to ceiling window. “how would i even pay for all—“
“you wouldn’t drop a pound.”
you were taken back. you could never expect him to pay for that. you knew he was well off, given his hefty contract, but you are friends. friends don’t use each other for money.
“lando—“ you began to shake your head.
“no, no, don’t do that.” he stopped you, earning a glare from you. he shivered, relishing in how vindictive you could be. he hasn��t seen it many times untamed, but the fantasy had his blood roaring. “if money wasn’t a problem, would you come?”
“well—“ you attempted to come up with a defense, but nothing formed. you were at a loss of words. “what would i even wear?”
it was february when you touched down in jeddah. lando has instructed you to fly on the jet with him, side by side for the entire eight hour journey.
you were taken back by the sudden personal touches and longing looks from him. something has changed. over the past year he’s had a few girlfriends, none of them serious so he’s told you, and you believed him. your blind affliction to nod your head and whisper okay was the only way you found that you could truly protect yourself. ignorance is bliss, or whatever the poets say.
with your legs crossed the entire flight and eyes peering from the window, you never once felt lando’s eyes drilling into your face. though he was entirely enamored by your bravery, your understanding how important this was to him.
you may be the only one to truly understand his passion. as he began to understand yours.
on your lap was a research journal translated from german. your professor had sent it over to you for your leave of absence, along with ideas for your masters thesis. she was a kind woman and you appreciated all the work she has done to support you. especially translate it from german.
you tended when you felt lando spread his legs, knee bumping into your calf. but you didn’t shy away.
“what’re you reading?”
“do you really want to know?”
he didn’t hesitate. “why wouldn’t i?”
your chest tightened at his soft tone. you’d never get used to that, would you? when you were in such close proximity with him, he would become so gentle, caring. not that he wasn’t in public spaces but… what was the word you were looking for?
intimate
“after your season i fly to germany to finalize my thesis. i’m still struggling on a topic, but…” you flip back a few pages in the book which was messily annotated and sticky-noted. you stopped on the event horizon section. “this one caught my eye. always fascinated me.”
lando scanned the page. it wasn’t the words he was reading, but the marks you left behind. messily written notes in the margins, smeared ink, bright orange notes with rather… rushed drawings of a black hole, surrounded by streams of… “what is it?”
your eyes glimmered. lando wanted to take a picture of you then, turning from your corner of the window and towards him. your palms smacked the page as you excitedly explained the phenomenon in far too great detail for lando to really pay attention, but he was so engrossed in your intellect and pure passion that slipped past your lips. your sweet, honeyed lips—
“lando?”
“hmm?”
“what will it be like?”
“what?”
“all of it.” your fingers tended around the journal creasing the pages unbeknownst to you.
lando reached over, not thinking rationally, and grabbed your hands. they were colder than his. he was always warm. so warm. a light gasp left your lips when you looked up at him.
“i’ll give you some pointers. ready?”
you nodded.
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he kept a hand on you at all times. unhindered by any sudden movement, feigning to latch at the small divot of your back. you’d grow used to its presence as you scaled the tarmac, hopped into the passenger seat of the mclaren— opened by him— and glanced down at how his hand made claim to the skin of your thigh the entire drive.
he’s stressed. you’d tell yourself, not thinking anything more of it. because what else could it be?
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the entire time you kept modesty in mind. you had pestered lando about your choice of attire, thinking specifically about the nature of your outfits.
“i don’t want to be disrespectful.” you said sternly, looking between the stylist lando paid to dress you, and him. it was your debut at lando’s side and you were determined to make the right choice. you were never usually like this— cold and bullheaded, but he was growing to…enjoy it more than he should.
you stood there tapping your foot with your arms crossed. you shrugged towards the outfits she provided you. you shook your head at a few and decided to ask.
“what about orange?”
orange.
lando thought about falling to his knees for you right then and there. to see you sporting his team colors for him was a dream that he would never want to wake from.
the stylist nodded, raking through the options. there was one that was made of silk, a dress that covered you to the ankles, to the forearms. an abaya it was called. if you were going to be representing lando, which he mentioned on the plane, then you were going to do it right.
and you’ll be damned before you’re ever wrong.
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you certainly underestimated the crowds.
with the season opening, you and lando had been swarmed upon your arrival. he warned you of this, but to which the gravity of it you greatly underestimated.
your fists bawled at the material of the dress, clenching with unspoken anxiety. you were never much of a public person, but you’d be willing to find out if that were true or not today.
“hey,” lando nudged your shoulder. you glanced at him with a light smile. “you got this.”
that comfort was enough alone to let you be pulled from the car. lando opened the door for you. immediately swarmed by flashing cameras and the devilish heat of the middle eastern sun.
questions were thrown at him about you, who you were, and you’d let him do all the talking.
you straightened your posture, gripped the handbag tightly, and kept a soft smile to your features.
lando would stop on occasion to sign some memorabilia, which was a perfect time for you to observe. he was kind with the people who were such loyal fans to him. dressed in the mclaren jerseys, hats, he’d sign anything that was thrown his way. even some arms were thrown in his direction.
it was endearing for you. watching him thrive in his element. your heart warmed at the sight. a new found affection blossoming in the pit of your stomach.
a thump was heard on the ground before you. you turned, glancing back at lando who kept moving forward. it was a mclaren hat dropped by a teenage girl wrapped in a similar garment to yourself. you traipsed over, crouching down to pick it up, and hand it back to her.
“here,” you offered in a sweet tone. your smile was brighter. the girl was clearly elated, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“are you and lando dating?” came a question from the girl beside her. she was earned a slap to the shoulder, being called rude.
you laughed lightly, shaking your head. “no, no, friends from home is all.”
you saw a phone held up, recording the interaction. but it didn’t scare you. why would it?
“do you want to wrap your hijab? it’ll fly loose in the wind…” the girl asked nervously, placing the mclaren hat on her covered head. you were taken back for a moment, glancing down at the rather lazy job of the stylist, and took intent note that it was rather windy today. it would be hard for you to maintain it by yourself.
“you would do that for me?” you took a step closer to the barricade, which had lando snapping his head over his shoulder to wonder where you went.
he ogled, watching as a young girl began tying the ends of the scarf in an intricate, skilled manner around your collarbones, your neck. his eyes were caught on the smile you graced, the laugh that left your lips. it was such a delicious sound, intoxicating, one that he wished to drown in. if that were his fate, he’d gladly accept it.
his staring was noticed, fans beginning to call his name louder. he swallowed, hands flexing at his side before he signed a few more hats and posters.
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what you didn’t expect was the way that lando looked in his fire guard suit. the black emblems that contrasted his tan skin, bolstered the tone of his muscles. there was barely anything left up for the imagination as you brought the tip of your finger to your mouth, crossing your legs on the orange couch. you couldn’t seem to sit still.
“you alright?” he asked out of concern, but you didn’t miss the slight curve of his mouth. he knew what you were thinking. you were always so responsive to him, so good, even when there were no words transpired.
“peachy!” you confirmed, sitting back against the couch, your leg bouncing as you tried not to let your eyes meddle on the muscles of his neck, the veins in his hands, the bracelets that dangled from his wrists.
he gave you a look of doubt before his teammate walked in with a girl at his side. oscar, you remembered. you had met before briefly at a press conference you attended in monaco. the girl beside him was his girlfriend— she was entirely too sweet and studied a similar focus as you did.
the two mclaren drivers patted each other on the back, while the woman approached you. she sat beside you with a tick of picking at her fingernails.
your hand found its way on top of hers. “first time, too?”
she nodded and introduced herself formally. you did the same. you laced your fingers with hers, stopping the habit from ruining her lovely nailbeds.
lando watched the interaction from over oscar’s shoulder, a cheeky smile etching onto his face. oscar caught wind of his inattention, and glanced over his own shoulder briefly.
he turned back to lando with a toothy grin. “i’ve been trying to get her to stop that habit.”
because within the matter of minutes you were both talking, not once did his girlfriend raise her fingers to her mouth.
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you pulled and fixed at the collar of his race suit. lando sucked in a low, tight breath. you missed the sound, focused on making sure he looks presentable for the national anthem. it would be any minute he’d climb into the car to do a practice lap.
when you were satisfied with the result, you dusted off the top of his head and was going to let your hand fall to your side. but there was a stain of soot on his chin.
without thinking twice, you grabbed his chin between your fingers. his eyes went wide at the action. his fists clenched at his side, body rigid with the feeling of your unexpected touch.
you licked your thumb before wiping it away, his stubble rough against your fingers. his head crooned visibly into the shape of your hand. the warmth from his cheek getting slightly hotter. heat rushed to your own face, flushing you in your orange dress.
whatever moment was transpiring between the two of you, you didn’t want it to end. neither did he. his breathing softened, but his heart was pounding. your thumb swirled over his cheek once before you gripped him tighter.
“you got this, lan.”
there was the first time you graced him with that nickname. the rest was history for him, knowing that he was a dead man walking at your side. if you weren’t going to be his, he would ruin you. such sickening thoughts had him mulling over what you meant to him. you made time out of your busy schedule for him, and so did he. you were there to answer his calls. he was there to be at your beckon and call. he would wreck his entire career if it meant your undivided attention.
he would pivot, skid, take more reckless actions on the track if it meant having your hands on him. your eyes. your love. he wanted it all with you, he learned, from that first weekend in jeddah. with your communally wrapped headscarf, caring nature, your determination… he wanted it to be his. he wanted you to flourish with him. he wanted to be the reason you blossom.
with your unwavering strength at his side, he could conquer the world. fuck the championship, he wanted it all to be with you. maddening thoughts would consume him day and night after that first weekend, knowing there was only more to come throughout the season. he could only imagine how these months would fare, but he didn’t bide into fantasies. he would expect the unexpected and let you consume him entirely.
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miami was everything you thought it to be. bustling with life, parties, music. it was a stark contrast to what your life at university looked like— though you didn’t mind the occasional outing, of course, especially when lando was at your side.
he was a beam of light crafted by the gods of the sun, brightening every room he stepped in. he was utterly magnetic, drawing others around him, letting them have a joyous laugh. it made you giddy, proud, that he could hold himself so well in the mediocrity of the crowds. while you etched yourself at his side, clamoring for his shadow, he held you tightly at every opportunity.
his hand at your back, clutching for dear life. warm and soothing, you’d lean into him, clutching the hem of his black mclaren shirt.
it had been a friday night. his free practices had been stellar as you watched eagerly from the mclaren paddock. you’d earned a status of earning a headset, your consistent attendance rivaling tidal waves in the media. you always told yourself not to look, not to peek, but you couldn’t help it.
accounts were created in your honor. in your fan name. the mclaren fans loved you, and you loved them. the video of your first appearance at the paddock had gone viral within the community. your sensibility for adhering to culture norms gained you rapport. though you didn’t know why— why wouldn’t you dress appropriately? it grudged you how low the media could stoop, but you were honored nonetheless to gain such positive attention.
of course there were the negatives. some were born to hate and you could live with that. many thought you were using lando for his money, just another stupid girl who didn’t deserve to be at these races. you kept yourself modest from the media with a private account, similar to charles girlfriend, and found that it was better to remain a mystery to those who weren’t a part of your life. you owed them nothing.
though you never breathed these negatives to lando. he would be furious and absolutely say something in public. the last thing you wanted was for him to fight your own battles, yet you thought this nothing to be more of a playground spat. you could handle it; lando doesn’t call you sting for no reason.
on the bright side, you had a steady, growing relationship with oscar’s girlfriend, and even considered each other to be best friends.
though lando would disagree ardently, reminding you that he was always first, no matter the circumstance. he’d whine like a child and pout. how could you resist that face? even when you would playfully hold up four fingers and raise your brows, his number four, contrary to one, he’d scoff and laugh, your ability to see through him was astonishing.
at the club tonight there were bottles and bottles of champagne being opened and passed around in the driver's honor. in your time there you had grown close to all drivers, except a few give or take. but while you carved relationships with the boys, it was the women you sought refuge in.
charles' girlfriend, a tanned brunette sweetheart, would bake for you. in return you would host wine nights with the other women. you’d become accompanied with her new furry companion, little leo leclerc, and you fell in love with him instantly. his little licks of appreciation, his tiny wagging tail. gosh, you loved the pup.
carlos’ partner, rebecca, had intimidated you at the beginning. she was tall, fierce, blue eyes unwavering with confidence as she spoke of deep experience throughout her years in the paddock. it took her longer to adjust to your presence, feeling doubtful of your friendship with the british driver, but changed her mind when she saw you dehumidifying lando’s race suit that hung in the tents in japan’s humid weather.
no one stood around you whilst you did that. no one asked you to. you did it because it was ruthlessly hot and you didn’t want lando to contract a heatstroke.
lily held a place in your heart that none of these girls could truly replace. she was your rock from the first race. you both learned together, wrought each other of the nail biting habits, and laughed amongst the radio calls between the pair of drivers.
the rap music thundered the floor you stood on. heels tall and encompassing, you’d admit plainly you got used to the treatment lando awarded you. nothing but the best, he told you one evening under the moonlight. the words were imprinted in your mind.
alexandra, charles’ sweetheart, called your name.
lando’s grip tensed at your back. you could feel it. you glanced at him, then to alexandra.
“come dance~!” she swayed, floreale spritz in her hand. she egged you forward with her hand, and you loosened yourself from lando’s side.
you had no obligation to stay by him. it’s not like you were dating.
though many would disagree with that.
you mumbled something incomprehensible to lando. he bent his head down towards your mouth, angling his ear to hear your voice.
“will i see you on the dance floor tonight, mr. norris?” you teased, body warm from the cocktail you downed. his head turned, a signature smirk daunting his face.
“want me to?” he said, bringing his lips dangerously close to your ear. you shivered, his breath hot and wet as it graced the curves of your cheeks.
“only if his highness can make time,” you looked up at him through your weary, drunken eyes. something shifted, then, as you stared up at his green eyes. it was dark in the club, but not as dark as his stare. it intimidated you, but not nearly as much as it intrigued you.
“always make time for you baby,” he said, tone playful and airy but it was more than that for you. baby. he was just drunk, wasn’t he? he didn’t know what he was talking about. didn’t know he was talking to you. don’t let it get to your head. “just tell me when. think charles is dying to dance.”
you looked over your shoulder to see charles being teased by sweet alexandra as she shook her head, pointing at you. this was a girls dance, that told you.
before you turned, your hand cupped lando’s neck. he grumbled; you felt it through your palm. it was a nonverbal okay. you spun, threading yourself out of lando’s grasp. he let his hand linger for as long as he could before you slipped away, the imprint of his hand leaving you bare and cold.
it was quickly replaced by the rambunctious action on the dance floor. lit up with multicolored tiles, alexandra grabbed your hand and raised them above your heads, swaying to the heat of the music.
she was a natural beauty. no wonder charles fell in love with her.
you mimicked her dance moves to the best of your ability, hands sliding down your waist, through your scalp and over your head.
alexandra laughed and sashayed, giddy with fun and life. you did the same, unable to withstand her pulsing vibrato. you twirled her around you, she did the same. heads turned at your giggles, a few grunts of laughs had you looking over your shoulder.
the men of the club began to swarm. but in the moment, you didn’t care. let them gawk if they so wish. you felt untouchable.
your body slid parallel to alexandra, hips gyrating with an orbit of its own cosmic makeup. she grabbed onto your waist pulling you close when you rocked from side to side. your hands slid up your neck, down your chest— exposed from the evening gown you chose for the evening festivities.
the swarm intensified. one man attempted to twirl in front of you and alexandra, reaching to touch your forearm, but that’s where the line was drawn.
a body pushed itself between you and the man, alexandra standing up straight behind you. you recognized him instantly— signature smell bringing you an insatiable comfort that soothed your soul.
lando stood before you, face close to yours. he didn’t look pissed off…just…cocky?
before alexandra peeled away, you tilted your head back to her shoulder. she whispered, “needy, needy, needy…”
charles whisked her away for a dance. you didn’t get to respond. there wasn’t much for you to say though, watching how happy alexandra became when charles wrapped his arms around her. you felt sour. what was this feeling?
“you didn’t ask me,” he said into your ear, bringing your attention back to him. little to your knowledge he watched as you glanced between the happy ferrari couple, your face scrunching and hand coming to cover your lips.
you gave him a quizzical look.
“to dance!” he laughed, big and goofy. but there was an edge to his tone. was he peeved? did he think that you forgot about him?
“wanted you to come get me.” you slurred, lifting your arms to throw them over his muscled shoulders. when you were met with a hard surface. your eyes bulged at just how big he’s gotten this year alone. it made you want to touch him more, explore his body behind the polo mclaren shirt.
he raised his brows at you. “yeah?”
you pursed your lips together, letting your eyes flutter. “wanted you to hunt me down, little lando.”
his hands fell to your hips, fingertips functioning your skin. his demeanor shifted. your words igniting such a vicious flame inside his heart that burned for you and you alone. you were practically fucking edging him with your words. he wished it was the other way around. how insatiable your screams could be, the little noises you’d make.
you warmed even more when his head dove into your neck, lips parting so you could feel his tongue. “‘ve already got you.”
“do you?” you challenge. lando loves a good challenge.
he tucked you against his body, saying nothing more.
“dance with me.” it wasn’t a question. but a statement.
rolling your eyes, annoyed that he didn’t answer you, you pivoted on your heel. your back against his abdomen. you’d surely regret this on the morrow, but that was a problem for then. now, you only felt sturdy as you leaned your weight into lando. he supported you with ease.
dancing with him was always the easy part. he knew how to move his body, sway his hips, and lure any girl into the trap of his toned and tanned arms. but it was never you up until now. you’d always dance with the other drivers, girls, friends, but never him. it was something far too intimate for you, but you weren’t sure how lando thought about it.
but your friends noticed.
rebecca snuck up behind alexandra, carlos at her arm.
“look at him,” she gestured to lando who was entirely smitten with your let-loose expression. his hands were tight around your hips, legs spread to cage you against him. a fortress came with the name lando norris, and you were his queen.
“entirely in love.” rebecca concluded, and alexandra agreed with a nod.
“you should talk to her.” charles suggested, clearly feeling the pain his friend was going through, yearning at a distance.
“and say what, char?” alexandra asked her partner. “do you love him like he loves you?”
“is that a bad idea?” charles retorted and was met with silence between the two girls.
“we’ll figure something out.”
against your bodice, you felt the hard imprint of his dick blistering against his jeans. but it didn’t frighten you, not like his touches used to. your tour of the grand prix’s continued your closeness amongst one another, so…
your hips continued to sway, egged on by how lando ran his arms up your waist. it felt good–his hands, the tension woven into them. he felt good.
you turned around to face him, letting your hands wrap around his neck. he looked euphoric beneath the dim lighting, rbg hues collectively making him look like he was glowing. he was, in truth, because of you. always because of you.
the two of you were making eye contact now. not just any, but you thought it was the most intense of your life. his eyes rimmed with red, exhaustion you thought, and you suddenly felt guilty for keeping him out for so long. it’s not like you weren’t tired yourself.
you raised your head to his ears. “we should go.”
he narrowed his eyes, looking disappointed that the festivities were ending so soon. “you want to?”
your head nodded. one hand came down to brush against his hand, taking it between yours. “tired.”
the alcohol had taken its course through you. head pounding with a soft thump, you clasped your hand with lando’s. he returned the same force, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. he didn’t hesitate when you said you were tired. that was that for him. he had no other reason to stay.
“just wanna say bye to them,” you said, making your way over to rebecca and alexandra. they turned to you when you had lando in tow, entirely at your whims.
“we’re meeting tomorrow?” you confirmed. both girls nodded, a shared glance between them making you feel uneasy. alexandra told you to come to ferrari’s paddock. you’d nod your head before they both raised their brows at each other again, sheepish smiles flashing in your direction.
“what?” you prodded. they smiled at you again.
“nothing. we just can’t wait for tomorrow.” rebecca soothed your concerns, though it didn’t prevail as much as you hoped.
“that was weird.” lando said into your ear when you were close to the exit.
“right?” you were glad he noticed. he always noticed these things. too observant for his own good.
before you stepped foot out of the club, you turned back when you felt a thump. like a body had fallen to the ground. you stopped in your tracks.
the man that grabbed your arm laid face flat on the ground. lando looked down at you, looking smug. though he didn’t hit him.
“must’ve tripped.” he shrugged.
“should watch where he’s going.” you said, knowing that he didn’t just trip.
“guess so.”
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saturday afternoon you were standing beside rebecca and alexandra when qualifying started. you wore a casually chic outfit. pants, a shirt, matching accessories. the stylist lando hired was getting to know you better. she understood what patterns you liked, your sense of aesthetic. it felt like a homecoming.
“so,” alexandra crossed her legs as all three of you sat on the couch. “what happened with lando last night?”
you were taken back. “what do you mean?”
they exchanged a look.
“you left together!” rebecca held up her hands as if pointing out the obvious. she was, really.
“so…?”
“so…! he went back to your room?” alexandra pleaded in wanting to know details. details of an extravagant night that didn’t happen.
“we share a hotel room,” they gasped. your hands thrown up in defense. “not like that! he gets two bedrooms for us.”
the girls settled, not looking entirely pleased.
“besides,” you sighed. “we’re friends. he doesn’t see me like that.”
so confident
alexandra and rebecca burst out in a laugh. “are you serious?” alexandra wondered.
you bristled, brow raised, wondering what she meant. “yes…?”
rebecca sighed your name, “have you seen the way he looks at you–?”
“or how he follows you around like a puppy.”
“how he pays for everything for you.”
“oh! how he scares any man off who tries to talk to you.”
your mind went numb. is this true? you thought lando was like that with everyone– kind, considerate, conscious. but as you sat there considering their words, just wondering how much truth was attached to them.
“are…are you sure?” you hesitated about finding the answer. what would that mean for you?
“absolutely.”
“one hundred percent.” they said at the same time. so this is what they wanted to talk about.
shit. maybe you were blind. it had gotten tempestuous over the course of these last few months. his growing attentiveness, his softness, his eager eyes whenever you’d make him coffee in the morning. no one makes it as good as you, he’d say.
would it be so bad that you…weren’t upset with it? you loved being friends with lando. he was always there to listen to you, support you. he cherished your time together. but what if there was a slim chance that you were wrong? that you were in over your head?
the last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed.
“what do i do?”
the ferrari girlfriends exchanged looks.
────────────
lando qualified in fifth for the miami grand prix. you thought he did absolutely wonderful. it was a close quali, he was pushing his car to its limits, but it wasn’t enough in the final stretch. a sigh left you as you were watching the tv, lily at your side.
oscar placed just below lando at sixth. “i don’t get it,” you said.
lily looked at you, confused.
“they should be faster. mathematically, i mean.”
lily was an engineering graduate. the question you brought forth had her perking up. you could see the cogs turning in her head.
“the physical body of the car offsets it.” she tapped her thumb against her elbow, arms crossed. she raised a hand to bite at her thumb, but you stopped her.
“you’re right. i don’t know–” you just had a weird feeling about this race. about lando. what rebecca and alexandra said…”lily.”
“yeah?”
“do…” you took a light breath in, suddenly intimidated by the answer you could receive. “do you think lando is in love with me?
a beat of silence.
“without a doubt.”
the mclaren plated with number four rolled into the garage. lando jumped out, taking off the neck guard, then his helmet. his hair had gotten longer this month. curls were starting to frame over his forehead. his stubble was more prominent. he was tanner. had his jawline always been that sharp?
he patted his engineer on the back but was looking for something. his eyes were darting all around the room, concern beginning to encompass his face. until he found you and lily, you, in the corner with her. you looked absolutely beautiful today. you had been worried about your outfit, wondering if the colors were too contrasting, or if they washed you out.
lando didn’t think there was any color that could wash out the beauty of your skin. you were too bright for that, always glowing.
when you saw him, you beamed. but it was different this time. the way he looks at you. how is he looking at me?
he took a few steps forward before you met him half way. your fingers found the zipper to his jumper, the action was new for you and lando. he welcomed it, looking down at you with a smile.
“you did amazing.” you breathed, undoing the zipper. though you couldn’t reach his eyes with your own. your hand shook against the zipper. he noticed, face falling with a slight frown.
“are you alright?”
“perfect,” you answered a bit too quickly. you still haven’t looked at him. you went to turn away, but he grabbed your elbow with a light grip.
“hey, look at me.” he pleaded, voice entirely too soft and gentle for your state right now. the way he follows you around like a puppy. but why did you blush? why did you fiddle with your fingers, bite your lip?
you looked up into those lovely pools of green. they shimmered so elegantly. your breath caught in your throat.
“what happened? did–”
“do you want dinner tonight?” you blurted, suddenly feeling stupid and small. you kept shrinking with each passing second that he didn’t answer. little did you know, he felt like the earth was flipped on his head. was he dreaming? did you ask to have dinner with him? surely you just meant with all of your friends…
“we always have dinner,” he said with a light laugh. you felt shivers creep up your arms. Goosebumps.
“me. just you and me.”
“oh.” oh? that’s all that lando could say? yes. that was it. his brain was short circuiting, unsure of what you were inferring. was there a deeper meaning to this? was he thinking too hard? you’ve gotten dinner just the two of you before. but not in a long time.
he was absolutely speechless as he looked at you, heart racing in his chest. It was just about to pop out when you opened your mouth to retract your statement and apologize.
“what’s the dress code?” he bit his lip to hold back his childlike grin.
“fancy.” you snipped back, feeling entirely too giddy that he seemed to come alive once again. you thought he would reject the idea, a part of you hoped that he did– silly, right? but you were terrified of confrontation. confrontation that rebecca and alexandra could be right.
“fancy?” he said, taking a step closer to you.
“did i stutter?” your tone was playful as you raised your brows. his tongue got caught on his teeth as he pursed his lips.
“wanted to make sure i get to see you in a dress.” the comment slipped from his lips easily, suavely. you blushed again. he noticed, surely. it was a rare occurrence that you blushed, even rarer for him to be the reason. what was this feeling in his chest? pride? pride that he could be the one to make you bashful. he felt like a king, wanting to conquer the skirts of your heart.
“maybe i’ll let you pick it out.”
lando’s face couldn’t light up any further. what did he do to award such treatment? such…such…god, he was entirely enamored with you. there was not a moment that went by that he didn’t wish you were his. he wanted this to be the norm. whatever it was. was it a date? was he supposed to hold your hand, kiss you? god, god, god, if he got to kiss you…
“deal.”
you were back in the hotel in an instant. the clock read 6pm, and you told lando no later than 7:30. both of you were in the kitchen filling up your bottles of water, cracking jokes between each other. when you were refreshed and relaxed, you spoke.
“still picking my dress?” you lead him to the door to your room, opening it for him. he followed behind you without a second thought. his eyes weary, glossy. like he was about to cry or something.
you stood at the doorway to the room. it was a chaotic mess of clothes, ruined sheets, open bottles of water. if lando noticed the state, he didn’t say anything. thank god.
but he did
lando was keen on noticing every detail of how you lived. your habits. it was the only way he could figure out how your mind worked– the spectacular thing that it was. he turned his head over his shoulder to you, gesturing towards the closet. you nodded.
he opened the door to the closet, dresses hanging by the dozens. damn, the stylist really put her money’s worth, didn’t she? rather his money, but if it meant for you to look jaw-droppingly stunning, who was he to complain?
the british driver ran his fingers through the numerous dresses before him. different combinations of cotton, silk, satin. they all felt different at his fingertips, yet you would always be sweet to him. but something else caught his attention–
a lace bodice piece, lingerie, that hung low from a hanger. he waited a beat. another. he pulled it with both his hands, showing you the hanger with a curious, raised brow.
you flushed.
never in your life did you run as fast as you just had. you tried to snatch the hanger from him, but he held it high above your head. he was laughing.
“lando!” you screeched, trying to climb up his body to reach it. it only incited a more intense laugh from him. he hummed.
“what’s this for, then? hmm?”
“i–” you stuttered, not really being able to know what to say. “she gave it to me!” the stylist.
his laugh quieted. “did she?”
“yes! if, you know, i dunno–” you rubbed your arms together anxiously. “if i ever met a guy. or something. it was stupid!”
you tried to get it back from him. he didn’t relent. you stomped your foot.
“lan, please…” you whispered, looking up at him with his unreadable stare. lando was always the type to know how he felt through his eyes, but now…you didn’t know what you were looking at.
“did you?”
“did i what?” you huffed, crossing your arms.
“meet a guy?”
you looked away, embarrassed. “no. not like i was trying, though.”
he relaxed, noticeably.
keeping all these guys away from you…
“it was just a fun idea. now will you pick something? else i’ll change my mind.” you threaten him. he hung the lingerie piece back up, surrendering instantly.
you headed to the on-suite bathroom, starting to get ready for your night out. though his tone echoed in your mind– “did you?” – he sounded…deflated. bested, by some indomitable force. you had a growing epiphany that the ferrari girls were right, and you were just too damn scared to admit that such a beautiful man could be interested in you of all people.
lando knocked on the door frame, watching as you finished up your look. you glanced at him through the mirror, then turning to see the dress he held. it was a long, black dress with lace flowers embroidered into it. it even had sleeves, lace ones, that could keep you warm with the miami breeze. it got rather chilly when the sun went down.
his choice was rather impressive. dare you say that you liked it. you grabbed the fabric piece from him, taking it off the hanger and leaving it on the counter. it was beautiful– must’ve cost a fucking fortune– breathtaking, though.
did you even deserve to wear something so elegant?
“gimme a sec,” you said, shooing him out of the bathroom before you changed. the dress slipped on with ease, much to your shock. but its downside–the zipper. you tried for about three seconds to get it up in the back, but you gave up.
you opened the door.
“lan?” you called for him, voice whimpering for his attention. he shifted from your bed, scrolling on his phone. he looked up immediately, eyes widening at the site before him. you were absolutely breathtaking. his hands twitched, desperate to touch you.
and you weren’t opposed, you thought, given your insolence towards any patience you had for the zipper. ‘test the waters,’ is what alexandra had said to you when you asked her for advice. ‘see how he reacts.’ rebecca followed up.
testing the waters
that’s what you were doing
you turned your back to him, shimmying out of the bathroom. “zip me?”
“yeah. yeah of course.” he launched to his feet. the dress was so low down the curve of your back. he wanted to trace your spine with his fingers. he was gentle with his touch, warm to the skin. you absentmindedly leaned into him, back arching.
he zipped the piece with ease, letting his fingers trace the back of your neck. you shivered, goosebumps crawling up your shoulders. he felt them, quickly glancing at the side of your face to gauge your reaction. was he going crazy? your body was so receptive to him. it was addictive.
you pulled away. his hands felt empty, your back felt cold.
“thanks,” you smiled bashfully, unable to look him in the eyes. so fucking cute, he thought. “go get dressed, will you? i’m getting hungry.”
lando bolted from the room, and you managed a short laugh to yourself. while you were alone, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. you still felt entirely undeserving of such a gown.
you slipped on your shining black heels and had to adjust to their feeling. you were never good at walking in them, but this tour was a playground for you to learn how. you wanted to learn. you felt badass walking around like you had pointy claws.
in your hands was a matching leather clutch, simple and handheld. you waited patiently for lando, though it took him barely no time at all to look so put together.
you heard the clink of his loafers before he made himself known. turning around, you got a good look at the man you’ve gotten to know over these past few months.
it was chilling the way your body electrified. heat pooled in your lower belly, tingling with lust. he was dressed in a black dress shirt, few buttons undone revealing his chains, with a black jacket and taupe pants. his loafers were black with a silver buckle at the center of each shoe.
he was fiddling with the cufflinks at his jacket when he noticed you gawking at the shape of his abdomen, to his exposed neck. he didn’t want to say a word, afraid that it’d break your moment of admiration. that you would never look at him in such a…virtuous manner.
but he could never control his tongue.
“my eyes are up here, darling.” you snapped your head up, blushing. you crossed your legs over each other, leaning against the kitchen isle.
darling
you were caught red handed. there’s no point in pretending. your blood burned hot in your veins, the petname coming as second nature from his lips. you wanted to hear it again.
“didn’t know you cleaned up so well.” you pushed off of the isle with ease, waiting for him to join your side. “used to all the sweat and pajamas.”
he tsked at you, sheepish at your witty remarks. he hoped that no matter what it would always be like this; you and him, full of banter and fun.
“and you look…agreeable.” his smile was bright, mischievous. you pushed his arm away as he came to rest his hand on your lower back. “kidding!”
he lowered his voice and connected your eyes with his. “you’re breathtaking.”
and for the first time, you believed him.
────────────
the restaurant he chose was more than you could imagine. with high ceilings, a valet, lights in the shape of mystical orbs strung together on the walls. the floors were made of marble, the tiling on the sidings were matte black.
but lando didn’t give a fuck about the decorations. he was staring at you. you in your beautiful dress, carrying yourself so elegantly. you were born to fit into this life, whether or not you believe you deserve it. he would do anything to prove that you did. that you were worthy of every dime he spent.
“right this way, madam.” the waiter ushered you, but you didn’t move until you held out your hand for lando to grab. you’ve never asked him to sober.
he didn’t hesitate, never did, and latched onto your hand with a warming grip. you tugged him along through the restaurant while he kept getting distracted from you and how you walked so well in those high heeled shoes. he remembers a time when you couldn’t. and look at you now.
the waiter seated you at your two person table. lando pulled out the chair for you. you smiled appreciatively.
“aren’t you the gentleman.” you acknowledged his kindness, his face brightening as he seated himself with ease. he pulled into the table, leaning over it. you did the same, eager to meet his face with a bashful smile and your hands rubbing together.
lando looked nervous, but most of all happy. he is happy. to be sitting here with you, in your presence, and most of all, you wanted to be here with him. he didn’t miss how you leaned towards him, your legs crossing over one another as the point of one of your heels grazed his knee.
“so tell me,” he picked up his water glass, taking a sip. you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed, the water running through him. you gulped. “why dinner?”
your hand touched the back of your neck. “‘m not allowed to want to spend time with you?”
“didn’t say that, did i?” he placed the glass down. “all this, i mean–” he gestured to your dress, his shirt, the restaurant. “you tryin’ to tell me something, darling?”
one of your fingers ran over your lip. darling. god, it sounded so good coming from him. it put you in such a state of heaven, feeling entirely weightless in his presence. you were staring at him speechless, before you heard a clatter of glass behind you. you were ripped from the safety of your trance.
“maybe,” you muttered, looking away for him briefly before attempting to switch the topic. “anyways-”
“what was that?” he said languidly, the softness of his tone unrecognizable. his eyes were blown wide, taking in every subtle movement that you made. you felt like you were under a microscope being analyzed by his prerogative. you felt stripped bare– but that wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? no. no it wasn’t. the thought had you blushing. what weren’t you blushing about today?
“the race,” you continued on, disregarding his questioning. “are you nervous?”
he leaned back in his chair in defeat. fine, if she wanted to play it that way. he knew exactly what you said. but he wanted to hear it again. he will hear it again if it is the last thing he ever hears. you said “maybe” and didn’t brush him off with a scoff. his advances towards you had always been playful and light, but you never indulged him so…earnestly. he was caught off guard. in fact, he’s been caught off guard…a lot these past few days. something has shifted–
but what?
“am i supposed to be?” he wondered. you never really asked him those kinds of things. he always had your full reassurance.
“no. it’ll be just like any other, won’t it?” you felt like you were talking out of your fucking ass. you, all of a sudden, didn’t know how to talk to your best friend. it was gibberish, dry, god, how the fuck did he put up with you beforehand?
you began fidgeting with your fingers. his eyes latched on the movement.
“are you nervous?”
you swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to look at him. you didn’t know he leaned in again until you felt his knees bump with yours. you jumped, but sunk into his light touch.
“i dunno– no? no, why would i be nervous?” you continued fidgeting. “it’s just…it’s all so dangerous, isn’t it? i’ve done the math before. at your speed if–”
“hey.” he cut you off, grabbing both your hands. “hey.” he breathed, looking at you with his widened, sparkling green eyes. your hands were sweaty against his, a byproduct of your anxiety, but he didn’t seem to care when he brought them to his lips, gracing you with a sweet kiss on the top of your palms.
your breath hitched in your throat.
“didn’t know that you worried about me so much.” he gave you a light laugh, his eyes crinkling with a smile. he bit his lip.
“what? of course i do,” you looked at him in disbelief, your hands still held in his. “i mean– why wouldn’t i? we’re friends, aren’t we?”
‘aren’t we?’ was branded into lando’s heart. he swallowed, pulling back and letting your hands fall to the table. “‘course we are.”
“you are both such a beautiful couple.” your waiter approached. you bristled, glanced quickly to lando, and an idea bloomed in your head. test the waters, the girls said. “what can i get for you lovebirds?”
lando sat up straight to correct him, but you stopped him. “you are too kind,” polite smile was gracing as you ran your fingers over the menu. “what are the specials?”
lando’s jaw dropped. he shut it before the flies flew in, but he wouldn’t forget this. no amount of alcohol or fantasies could recreate that feeling. this feeling. you glanced at him while you were ordering, puckering your lips.
god, he wanted to kiss you. Ruin you. make you his.
dinner went smoothly despite a perpetuous tension lingering over the pair of you. you’ve never fiddled so much before with anything; your dress, napkin, glass. but you were still there with him, and he always knew the perfect way to make you laugh. you wanted to kiss him that night, beneath the glimmer of the moon, but you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t muster the courage to break the barrier.
but you would, in time.
on your way out of the restaurant you were keen on grabbing his hand first. you felt him tense and he covered his mouth with his free hand, surely hiding a cheeky smile.
the cameras were flashing when you came down the steps. you’d be trending on every social media platform, especially with how bright your smile was, and how tightly you gripped his hand.
────────────
race mornings were always chaotic. but you somehow managed to make it to the track at the end of the f2 race with lando at your side. In the mclaren hospitality room, you straightened his collar of the fireguard, taking a deep inhale of his subtle cologne and natural scent. you felt dizzy, struck by the desire to run your hands over his chest.
your touch lingered longer than it normally did. he noticed. what didn’t he notice?
especially after your stunt last night. he didn’t get a wink of sleep. he was up all night staring at his phone, watching the pictures light up his feed. he wasn’t embarrassed, shocked, nor ashamed. the british driver was entirely elated. with your graceful composure, assuredness in holding him at your side.
he scrolled through the comments, too, but there was not one negative thing he could find. spare a few comments that he had to bite his tongue on responding to, you were gaining an overwhelming amount of support from his fans.
your fans.
there were accounts made in your honor. outfit accounts, update accounts, people with your face as their profile picture. he scrolled through every one of them. he was maddeningly obsessed.
but what changed? why were you acting this way? not that he was upset by this change…but your inability to tell him…tell him what was going on frightened him. he felt anxious.
“what’s going on with you?” he brought his face closer to yours, lowering his voice so no one else could hear the both of you.
“nothing. it’s nothing.” your tone was hastened, weary.
“it doesn’t sound like–”
“we’re ready for you, lando.” his engineer interrupted the two of you with a polite smile.
the british driver sighed.
you placed your hands on his chest. “i’m fine.” though it did little to soothe his woes.
he looked at you weary eyed, brows turnt upward with concern. he didn’t believe you.
“i just…” your hand trailed up his neck, thumb caressing his bottom lip. he stayed perfectly still beneath your fingertips. “really want you to win.”
you placed a soft kiss on his opposite cheek.
“you got this, lan.”
he kissed your thumb that was on his lips and said nothing else before he jumped into the mclaren.
────────────
you were on absolute edge the entire race. it was an uphill battle. you’ve never been seen so anxious with your headset on, tapping your feet anxiously against the concrete. arms crossed over your chest, it was down to the last few laps. lando had been hard running in first.
first. lando was in first.
you could feel this in your blood. he was born for this.
and when he crossed that fucking finish line, you’ve never felt so much joy in your entire life.
he yipped and punched his fist in the air, his screams were pure music to your ears.
his engineers came to pat you on the back, gauging your all too excited reaction. lily was at your side, too, jumping and giving you a hug.
lando jumped from his parked car, ripping off his helmet and neck guard. he was on top of the fucking world when he jumped atop the crowd of mclaren workers, them holding him up with ease and chanting his name.
you stood beside lily, hand covering your mouth to stifle your sobs. you couldn’t be more proud of him than in this moment.
he caught your eye from above the crowd, watching the tears fall down your face. when he jumped off his celebratory pile, he ran over to you.
you threw your arms around his neck, launching yourself against him. he caught you, he always would, and held you tight. he would never let you go. never. your tears wet the base of his neck.
“lando…” you said into his race suit that smelled of burnt rubber and sweat. you didn’t care. this was your lando.
he pulled back, looking at you with concern. it was a characteristic look for him these past few days.
but you wanted that to go away.
you wanted nothing but his happiness. his joy. his passions. to see him on top of the world. but you wanted to be right there with him, side by side.
your lips were on his before he blinked. he was taken back, surprised, and face dripping in sweat. your hands gripped around his muscular neck, tugging him to you. you wanted more. you wanted this. this over anything. him over anything.
he returned your kiss when he was done pinching himself. your lips were entirely too sweet. luckily he had a sweet tooth.
his hand cupped the back of your head, tilting you towards him for a better, deeper angle. you moaned into him as he sucked on your bottom lip, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. you were floating, floating in the world of lando norris. you never wished to return to the ground.
but you did. the cheers around you got louder. you realized you would too if this kept up.
the new grand prix winner wasn’t finished, though, when his free hand gripped your hip. you stifled a giggle by smiling into his mouth, catching your breath. “lan,” you chuckled.
“don’t tell me this is a dream.” he had tears swelling in his eyes, lips plump from your kiss. “i might just have to–”
you cupped his cheek.
“real.” you assured him. “i’m real. this–” you brought his gloved hand to your heart. “is real.”
he bit his lip, though it did little to conceal his smile.
“drink some champagne for me.”
he kissed you once more. a telltale we aren’t done.
and you sure as hell weren’t.
────────────
“don’t understand why we’re celebrating out there,” lando gestured to the door as you were putting your heels on in a hurry. “when we could be here.” he pulled you to him, your back flushed against his chest. you leaned into him, sighing.
“because your friends want to celebrate,” you finished putting on your shoes. “me included.”
lando’s hand tightened around your waist. “you’re not my friend.”
your brows upturned when you spun around to face him. your expression was sickeningly innocent. “‘m not?” your hands landed on his chest, turning your head to the side with fluttering lashes.
“absolute minx,” lando seethed with a hearty laugh, leaning in to kiss you. your noses brushed together, his lips coming to graze yours. but you smiled and pulled away from him before he could taste your lipstick.
he made a move to pull you back to him by your elbow, but you gave him a look. “we’re going to your celebrations, lan. don’t care what you have t’say.”
he groaned, his head falling forward to your shoulder. your hands raked through his hair, down the back of his neck. he practically purred like a fucking kitten under your fingertips.
“and as far as i know,” you kissed his temple. “we’re still friends. haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend, did you?” your hands curled in his hair, pulling him to meet your eye. he bit his lip, blushing!
“you’re blushing, baby!” you cooed, reaching to squeeze one of his cheeks.
“can’t blame me,” he muttered, head darting back into the crook of your neck and leaving soft kisses down to your collarbones. “the most beautiful woman has her hands all over me…what am i supposed to do with m’self?” he chuckled and you felt his teeth against your sensitive skin. you sucked in a breath with a smile.
“ask her,” you lowered your voice, whispering into him. “i’m sure she’ll say yes.”
“would she?” his head perked up, flushed and warm from your neck.
“in every universe, lan.” your humorous tone turned serious. he gulped, adam’s apple bobbing when he felt the weight of your words. “you know that gravity is the only force that can travel through any dimension? any time, any place, it will be found.”
he was listening to you intensely, voice cracking as he spoke. “i would find you.”
your eyes widened at him.
“through any black hole, space phenomena, wormhole,” his breath fanned your cheeks. “i’ll always find you.”
you leaned in to kiss him. he met you halfway, swallowing your mouth with his. you let him push you up against the counter, your hand gripping the ledge so you didn’t tumble over. you opened your mouth and his tongue slipped in without hesitating. he explored the corners of your mouth, the shapes of your teeth, your own tongue.
your moan was deep from your chest when you felt his hand start to slip up your thigh. his pinky scathing the fabric of your thin underwear. you gasped when he ran trailed over your cunt, already wet and swollen under his touch.
"all for me, baby?" he chuckled into your neck, soothing your cunt of its tumultuous ache.
you nodded, but that wasn't enough.
"words. need words."
"fuck. yes, lan, all for you." you moaned when he flexed a finger inside of you, the sweet burn was tender to your growing coil in your belly. but things just can't go smoothly, can they?
you were brought back to earth when your phone began to ring. fuck.
you tried pushing lando off of you, but he grumbled against your lips. you smiled, but detached from him. “lan,” he shook his head, refusing to let you go. “lan, it’s probably everyone wondering where you are.”
“don’t care.”
“you should.”
“don’t.” his mind didn’t change, finger still exploring you before you shook him off.
you kissed the tip of his nose. “we won’t stay for long, okay? besides…”
there was a sheepish look on your face. “i have a boyfriend to show off.”
lando didn’t need to be told twice to get you swept off your feet and into his car.
────────────
the entire drive there his hand was on your thigh, so high that he traced the lining of your black laced underwear with his pinky. you gripped his wrist tightly, but said nothing the entire ride there.
when you pulled up, a valet man opened the door for you. you stepped out and were met with ten times the amount of flashing cameras that you were used to. you got this. with a straight posture and elegant– as elegant as you could muster– composure, you waited for lando to meet at your side.
you weren’t disappointed when you felt his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowds. shouts were sent your way, his way; “lando! lando! is this your girlfriend? are you dating? what’s her name?”
he made sure to answer only one question with your nod of approval before he climbed the steps to the nightclub.
“lando! is this your girlfriend?”
“yes,” he said with his charming nature, turning back to look at you, starstruck by your beauty. you smiled back at him, hand caressing his chest. the cameras went wild at your natural pose with each other.
inside the club was much better. with a restricted guest list of close friends and family, you were at ease. when you entered you were met with all three of your closest girlfriends. lily, rebecca, and alexandra. they squealed when they saw you, sprinting in your direction leaving their boyfriends in distress by their absence.
“congratulations, lando!” lily said upon her arrival first, then glancing to you. “and an even more congratulations is in order? are you fucking kidding me!” she said with utter glee. you leaned further into lando’s side if that was possible. he relaxed at your touch, hand loose at your hip.
“i knew it.” rebecca said with certainty.
“she really did,” alexandra confirmed.
you rolled your eyes at the pair of them.
“i’ll get us drinks, baby.” lando whispered into your ear, his nose jutting against your hair. he gave you a kiss to your head and departed from your side, meeting up with the guys, too.
“tell us everything!” alexandra jumped up and down.
“there’s not much to tell.” you shrugged, hands thrown up in defense. “i just thought about what you said. you were right. i was so, so blind.” wasted time was a fear of yours.
“we’re proud of you anyways. have you seen all the paparazzi for you?” rebecca opened her phone, scrolling endlessly through her timeline. “i fucking hate you. you look perfect in every one of them.”
“oh please,” you brushed her off. “have you looked in a mirror, becca?”
it was a stellar night. you found yourself on the dance floor shortly after with your favorite drink in your hand, per lando’s stellar memory of your order.
without another moment longer, your hips were moving over lando’s on the dance floor, his hands loose on your hips as he ran them up and down your body. you decided you weren’t going to have more than one drink tonight, preferring to remember every moment of this celebration.
the song was a bumping rap tune, easy to follow along with your suave moves. “suave,” you were just letting loose against your now boyfriend. the word was still foreign to you, but you felt increasingly giddy at the mention.
lando, though? he was a changed man. not only did your kiss bring him ultimate luck before his race, he now has you at his side. he’ll do anything to keep you there. fuck, how did he get so lucky? he had a feeling something was going on, but never would he think it would be your lips on his after his race. he can still taste your tears.
you cried for him the entire time he was up on that podium, absolutely relishing in the national anthem played in his honor. and he could only keep his eyes on you. your glittering, magnificent eyes that sparkled beneath the miami sun. they sparkled for him, only him, on this marvelous day.
and he would let everyone know that you shined for him. that you were his. while he may have won his first race, you were better than any trophy he could ever get.
eventually, everyone raised their glasses for lando and cheer’s to his victory. you held your glass high, downing the entire thing. he did the same, only keeping to a few so he could see you as clear as day. he felt the same way…he never wanted to forget a moment with you.
you faced him now, body still swaying to the music. with your chest brushing against his, you felt a growing heat over your neck. as the night went on, the sweatier lando became. the more his tanned skin glowed beneath the hue of the lights. the more his cologne pumped through your nose. it was impossible to not be intoxicated by him, drunk on his affection.
with your hands gripping his neck, you looked up to him through your hooded eyes, a look that he wished he could take a fucking picture of.
“what?” he said into your ear.
you only shifted closer into him if that was possible.
“need me, baby?” he chuckled low and wicked. you shifted on your feet, tightening your legs together. you almost did before lando stuck his leg out, having you tightened around him.
you nodded rapidly into his neck, clutching the fabric of his shirt. it was an appropriate time to leave, too, given that many have already bid their goodbyes. lando was only sticking around for you, after all.
“please,” you whimpered into his ear, mouth wetting the skin beneath his chin.
“fuck.” he cursed, maneuvering your body towards the exit with ease. his hands felt so good around you. you wanted them everywhere all the time.
you bid your farewells to your friends with haste, feeling a slight guilt for leaving so…suddenly.
but lando didn’t.
the drive back to the hotel took no time at all, lando blowing through every fucking stop sign and light that came in his direction. his hand was firm on your thigh this time, white knuckling the steering wheel. you stared at him, his side profile. he was too irresistible like this–needy, urgent– so you leaned over to kiss the side of his face, down his neck with sensual, puckering kisses.
he leaned his head back, giving you access to his thick neck. you had no idea how he kept focus on the road, but you had full faith in him to get back unscathed.
“i know, baby,” he sighed, low and deep. “almost there.”
pulling into the valet, you opened the door yourself. lando threw the keys up in the air to the doorman and proceeded to rush you through the lobby. you couldn’t contain your giggles when he kept pressing the elevator button over and over.
“that doesn’t make it any faster, you know.” you commented, your own foot tapping against the cool marble of the ground.
“i’ll show you fast, baby, watch your mouth.” chills ran up your spine. your legs clenched together again and you couldn’t meet his eye.
bastard.
when the elevator opened, you shuffled inside and he had you against the wall before you could catch your breath. his lips attacked yours, moving down to your jawline, peppering your neck with slower, intense kisses. you moaned, biting your lip to conceal the sound the best you could.
he moved to your chest, your collarbones being the first to be victim of his biting kiss. he would bruise the skin atop your breasts, marks for only him to gawk at. it looks like you won’t be getting any miami sun any time soon. or ever if his swirling tuck keeps suckling against your skin.
“fuck, lan.” you whimpered, looking down at him below you, hands cupping his neck in place. he would happily be imprisoned by you like this. he would never go hungry.
he groaned at your breathless response, adhering heavily to his actions as he didn’t miss an inch of your skin with his sloppy kisses. you pulled at the curly hair of his scalp that had his eyes rolling back into his head. you watched the delectable sight, your panties becoming increasingly damp as the seconds rolled by.
the doors to your floor opened. lando didn’t move for a moment. you pulled his head back from his devouring of your skin. “you’re fucking me in your bed or not at all.”
“you’re the death of me, darling.”
you were swept across the floors of your hotel, lando fumbling with the key to the room anxiously. you kissed up his neck in anticipation until the door clicked open and you were practically tossed inside. he slammed the door shut, throwing the “do not disturb” sign on the handle. not a soul would bust in on the two of you.
you were ripping off your heels and throwing them across the floor before you were latched onto him again. but it didn’t last long until you wanted more. you weren’t going to fuck him in this kitchen, either. you were going to do it right, despite your hazy mind and actions.
lando chased after you like a mad man. you squealed running through the hotel room on your tip toes until you burst open the door to his place. the bed sheets were ruffled, clothes on the floor, and it smelled like him. you bit back a moan at the sight, lando’s chest meet your back.
his lips were back on your neck, your shoulders. he tore through the fabric of your dress, undoing the zipper with methodical fingers. the gown fell to the floor, leaving your chest bare and your panties thin and otherworldly.
you were ethereal.
there wasn’t an ounce of shame inside of you when you spun around to face him. his hands were running up and down your bare skin, feeling how soft you were. a cuss fell verbosely from his lips, like honey.
you backed away from him with an enticing look, swaying your hips before you fell backward on his bed, hands threading over your head. a palm came down to trace down your sternum, your lower belly, the hem of your dampened panties.
lando watched you through his darkened eyes, almost black with desire. black holes. they sucked up the light around them, absorbing it without second thought. you wanted nothing more than to be absorbed by him. wholly.
he stalked towards you like a hunter, back straight with his lip caught between his teeth. he wanted to ravage you right here– tear the underwear from your hips, fuck you into another dimension, but he would resist. all he wanted was to savor this moment, this vision, of you laying out before him, bare and vulnerable. all for him. you trusted him with your intimacy, your touches. he’d do nothing more to keep you like this.
the british driver stood over you, your legs coming to squeeze together until his knee shoved its way through. your thighs dangled over the edge of the bed, burning with the scorching heat of your core.
one of his fingers came down to run over your chest, your nipples, your abdomen. you squirmed at his teasing touch, feeling everything and absolutely nothing at once. you mewled deep within your throat, begging for more.
he stopped at the band of your underwear, latching the same finger beneath it and drawing his hand back. the fabric peeled away with ease, your cunt glistening at his will. he noticed, of course, nostrils flaring with a tense angst of lust. no woman had looked as beautifully sinful as you have. you were a blessing and a curse– the most angelic devil he’s ever met.
“beautiful,” he cooed, trailing two fingers over the crease of your thighs, over the lips of your pussy. you whined again, shifting your hips to get him to touch you where you needed him. badly. he tsked, at your impatience.
it took him all of a second to launch atop of you, his turn to cage you in with his toned arms. you watched as his veins pulsed, blood running viciously hot through his body. it had you glancing down at the outline of his cock through his pants, the indent firm and mesmerizing.
you salivated, a string of drool leaking from your mouth. he wiped it away with his thumb and a chuckle, looking at you from his elevated position above you. “soon, sweet girl.”
that was enough for you right now. his lips attached to your chest once more, spots already swollen and bruising with his previous attack. he moved to your breasts, cupping them in his palms, kneading the flesh. it felt heavenly to be beneath him like this– you never thought you could be so vulnerable with a man like this before.
the british driver’s mouth moved to your opposing nipple, latching onto it with his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. you whined, mouth opening for a loud gasp at the curdling sensation. you felt that feeling in your lower belly, a white hot coil that was desperate to snap.
you were so soft beneath his touch. he could mold you, bruise you for his own gawking at a later date. and you wanted him to. you were his and he was yours. nothing could change that now.
he moved to the other breast, not daring to neglect any part of you. it was euphoric how delectable this was. you’ve never been touched so intimately. no one has cared this much about your pleasure. but to lando, it was everything.
his gospel was on your pleasures.
“lan, lan please,” you whimpered, squirming beneath him when he wasn’t between your thighs yet. “need you so bad.”
“i know baby,” he said into the skin of your belly. you felt his smirk. he kept trailing down and down. “so pretty,” he sighed, coming face to face with your folds, swollen and beating for his touch.
you clenched around nothing, and the desperation has never been so poignant.
and then his tongue was on you, spreading you wide. you gasped, so responsive to his touch, and grappled onto the curly strands of his hair. he was deliberate with his touches, fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs. his tongue drilled into you, curling upward that had you biting back your moans. despite your efforts, it was a failure. you were slack jawed and squirming beneath him. his grip tightened around your thighs in response, surely bruising the skin.
he tongued every corner of your pussy, swiping over your clit once that had you jolting upward. he memorized the spot, stimulating you to the point where the coil began to itch to snap.
there was no hope for you when he was getting impatient and added a finger to rub circles on your clit, his tongue continuing to thrust in and out of you. pleasure would build and build, rising to an ultimate bliss when he found that sparkler inside of you.
at the angle he caressed with his tongue, you bucked your hips into him further. you felt him chuckle into you, his throat vibrating with such a cocky sound. he found a spot that made you fucking tick and you were entirely at his disposal.
he abused the motion of his fingers, the assault of his tongue. you felt entirely undone by him, progressively getting tighter and tighter at his motions. “come on, baby…” he spoke into you. you couldn’t help the uncontrollable arch of your back. “you’ll be a good girl and come for me, won’t you?”
yes, yes! your mind shouted, fingers hanging onto his hair for dear life. you moaned, soaking further with his words of encouragement, eyes rolling back into your head. ‘course you needed him to talk you through it. how silly of lando with such an oversight. “so good, lan…”
“i’ve got you,” he uttered. “fuck baby, so pretty f’me. come on now,” and you needed nothing more than his sweet praise brushing past your ears to have the coil inside of you snap.
you saw stars as you came on his tongue, sweet nectar filling his mouth with a gulp. he kissed every part of you, cleaning you with his tongue. you watched, weary eyed, amazed by how hot the action was. your pussy clenched. he felt it. glancing up at you from his position on his knees.
“taste so good, sweet girl.” he cleaned up the excess from your plump folds with two fingers, bringing them towards your mouth.
you opened your mouth on cue, his eyes widening with awe. you were fucking perfect. lips latching onto his plush fingers, you sucked them clean amply. you’ve never done such an act before, but it felt…natural. his dick was painfully hard in his pants, almost cumming at the sight of your lust filled eyes.
“my perfect girl…”
you whined, sitting up on your elbows and clenching your hand to etch him closer. he listened on command, climbing to you. it was his shirt, pants, socks, shoes, everything that was on him that bothered you.
fingers coming to yank at the hem of his shirt, he swiftly understood your nonverbal wishes. he tore his shirt over his head, throwing it to the corner of the room, and you fiddled with the belt of his jeans. your fingers worked fast and anxiously, throwing the damn belt across the room with a slap. he gripped your chin with a laugh as he loomed above you.
“want you,” you demanded of him in your sweet, cracked voice. he wouldn’t make you beg this time, pulling his garments down with a swift motion. his cock sprung free and up towards the skin of his lower stomach. you flushed. precum was seeping from his tip, dripping onto your thighs. fuck, you whimpered under your breath.
he didn’t settle for a grace period to settle from your orgasm. he wasn’t nearly finished with you. his hand came to cup the side of your face, your lips finding the skin of his palm. wet kisses covered the surface. he groaned. “you got me baby. relax for me, yeah?”
you nodded eagerly, unable to speak as you wiggled your hips from side to side. he bent over and continued to kiss gingerly down your neck, his tip teasing your swollen cunt. you gasped into him, pulling him close to you. he grumbled, finding this angle inadequate. soon enough your legs were over his shoulders with one swift movement.
lando dipped down for a kiss, his lips hot and feral against your own. soon enough, you felt him clamor inside of you. the stretch was invigorating, your entire body springing to life with his beating cock. “oh my god,” your head flew back into the sheets sinking inward as he felt too heavenly to be real.
“that’s it baby,” your cunt tightened around him with those sweet words. as he progressed further, you felt yourself fall further and further into pure bliss. you’d find no such place elsewhere, only in the comfort of his arms. you knew that to be certain. “taking me so well…”
you sucked in a breath, letting out a hoarse moan when he bottomed out inside of you, walls clenching entirely too tight and he thought he’d cum right then and there. but he withheld the best he could, promising to never cum before you did. he needed to see your face when you’d finish on his cock.
“fuck…move, move lan, need you.” you whined, adjusting extremely well to his size. he didn’t even need to prod you to beg for him, you were already a willing candidate. he always knew you would. your sweet eyes, droopy and dolled up for him at the races. he’d imagined these scene over and over in his head, and never once did it disappoint when he’d fist his cock. now you were here, and your cunt was even more heavenly than he imagined.
“anything, baby.” his pace was even and controlled, but you could see that he was tense. through your bedroom eyes, you could feel the tension through his cock. you appreciate the sentiment of taking it slow, but you knew how he was.
he liked to be fast.
“more,” you moaned, his head shooting up to look at you with surprise. you cupped his cheeks, flushed face begging him. “fuck me, lan. need you so fucking bad, please, please–”
he would burn the fucking world for you. you didn’t know it at that moment, but he had never been so in love with you than he has been before. he adhered to your wishes, losing the tension in his shoulders as he began a rough pace against your cunt.
it was his only goal to make sure you felt him in every part of your body. he stretched every corner of your walls, squeezing him at every increasing thrust. he explored you fully and promised to know every inch of you.
“taking me so well,” he grunted out, hips flexing in and out of you with an egregious pace. it was to your ultimate liking to get fucked so well by him.
“lan…” you drawed out in a moan, lost in the stars of his throttling pace. “you’re so good. so fucking–” your own pleasure cut you off, squealing when he shifted only slightly and had your core clenching him tight.
he let out a greedy snicker, knowing he found a spot that made you unbelievably tick. it was his to find, and his to use. you would know no better pleasure than what he awarded you.
“oh fuck–!” you yelped as your release continued to build, the tip of the iceberg in reach. lando felt it, too, with his own stomach tightening and desperate to cum inside of you. you were a trigger for all his desires, and it would be sent off with a singular please that could leave your lips. the power you held over him and didn’t even know it…
“always gonna make you feel good, baby.” he promised you, dipping his abdomen over yours for a deeper, tighter angle. you whimpered, unable to speak. he would do it for you as he kissed over your cheeks, your jawline.
his hand came to the column of your throat. your eyes flared with an undeniable attention and intrigue. you clenched around him, and he hadn’t even applied pressure. “always.” and you fucking believed him when his fingers swiped at the sides, applying the slightest pressure of his fingers to your airway. you fell lax against the sheets, trusting him with every part of your body. no one else would feel this way for him. no one except you.
your eyes swelled with hot tears, breaking when he was firmer with his grasp, even with his hard cock beaming in and out of you.
he lavished at the sight. he never knew he was so hungry up until now, starving for your affection, your pleasures. how perfect you were could never be summarized in words alone.
“i love you,” you sputtered out, breathless and flushed hot. lando’s pace didn’t falter, but his grip around your neck loosened.
“say it again,” he demanded, face pushing up into the crevice of your neck.
“love you so much, lando,” it was a promise you made to him. to yourself. he swore against your neck, his breath hot and humid against your skin.
“come for me. come on, my love.” his words were only encouraging you towards and ultimate release, your tears hot against your cheeks. “i’ve got you, i’ve got you baby. so good for me, aren’t you?”
“yes, yes!” you whimpered, coil of lust for the british driver snapping a second time, harder, bringing an entire galaxy into your vision. you traveled through time and with lando, you found yourself grounded together in every universe. this was home.
your cunt tightened, causing his pace to get sloppy, his own release parallel to yours. you milked him dry, panting and chests heaving together.
he fell on top of you, his full weight comforting against your wet skin. he didn’t pull out yet, too exhausted to find the effort.
“did you mean it?” i love you.
“yes.”
lando became shy as he found himself brushing your nose with his. “i love you, too. have for a long time.”
a long time
“i will love you in every life time,” you said, earning you the brightest smile that the driver could muster. a lifetime.
“a lifetime…” he repeated, in a daze. “love you so much…” he said your name into your cheek, giving you a plump kiss. “infinite lifetimes would never be enough.”
you peppered his face with kisses. this was your gravity. the force that kept you grounded throughout time. if you ever got lost in the cosmic reaches, you would be able to find him. find home. find the beacon of light that he provided.
you were safe here, and so was he. and does gravity know no bounds between objects. you would be attached to one another for the rest of your living days, and even further throughout the cosmos. and that was enough for you, for now.
────────────
weeps;;
i am also open for requests <3
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris fic#lando norris smut#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#dad!lando norris#f1 fic#f1 smut#formula 1 fic#formula 1 smut#f1 fics#lando norris imagine#lando norris blurb#f1 driver x you#f1 driver x reader#lando norris angst#f1 angst#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 angst#friends to lovers#mclaren#mclaren f1#f1 oneshot#lando norris oneshot#lando x you#lando x reader#lando x y/n
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✧.* BABY PIASTRI
synopsis - in which everyone speculates whether you and Oscar have had your baby or not (Oscar Piastri x Wife/Model!reader)
before you continue: pls reblog and follow if you enjoyed! my requests are open, pop in anytime <3
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yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 113, 368 others
yourusername baby daddy 🤤
view all 1,598 comments
yourfan1 HAVE YOU HAD THE BABY???
↳ yourfan2 Right?!? We NEED Confirmation!!!
↳ oscarfan1 you don’t need anything. let them set their own pace
landonorris that smirk tho
↳ yourusername so hot right?
↳ landonorris the hottest
oscarfan2 the anticipation is killing me! is it a boy or a girl?
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oscarpiastri
liked by yourusername, landonorris and 758,892 others
oscarpiastri baby mama 🥵
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oscarfan3 she doesn’t look pregnant there 👀
↳ yourfan3 let’s not speculate on a woman’s body thanks
oscarfan4 what’s the baby’s name? 🥰
yourusername I love you!
↳ oscarpiastri I love you more 😘
↳ landonorris stop being so cute im going to throw up
yourfan5 name a prettier woman
↳ yourfan5 that’s right, you can’t
gigihadid pretty girl! 🫶
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oscarpiastri
liked by yourusername, bellahadid and 924,668 others
oscarpiastri dad life 😎🐥
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oscarfan5 babe wake up, we got confirmation on baby piastri!!
yourfan6 congratulations!! so happy for yall
charles_leclerc seems like a nice life
↳ oscarpiastri it’s the best, I recommend 😉
yourusername my sexy man 🤤
↳ yourfan7 y/ns ready for baby number 2 by the looks of it 😂
yourusername also THIS was your idea?
↳ oscarpiastri It did the job right? Everyone knows we’ve had the baby now 😃
↳ oscarfan7 I have a feeling y/n won’t be trusting Oscar with any future announcements anymore 😂
landonorris urm photo creds?
↳ yourusername I should’ve known you’d help him with his plan 😂
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MODEL Y/N AND OSCAR PIASTRI ANNOUNCE BABY ARRIVAL IN HILARIOUS INSTAGRAM POST
The speculation is over! After weeks of swirling rumors and eager fan speculation, F1 sensation Oscar Piastri and supermodel Y/N have joyfully confirmed the arrival of their first child. The couple, known for their playful and private relationship, took to Instagram in true Oscar fashion with a post that left fans both laughing and overjoyed.
In a post that quickly went viral, Oscar Piastri shared a snapshot that epitomizes his unique sense of humor. The photo features Oscar reclining in an ice bath, looking every bit the doting father surrounded by a collection of bright yellow rubber ducks. The cheeky caption read, “Dad life 😎🐥”, a perfect blend of coolness and whimsy that fans have come to expect from the Australian racing star.
The image, posted late last night, immediately sparked a flurry of congratulatory messages from fans and fellow celebrities alike. Followers were quick to point out the cleverness of the reveal, with many applauding the couple’s decision to maintain their privacy while also sharing their joy in such a lighthearted manner.
Y/N, who has been relatively low-key on social media during the pregnancy, reposted the image on her own Instagram story, adding a heart emoji and the simple caption, “Our little duckling 🐥❤️”. The subtle, sweet addition was enough to melt hearts around the globe, cementing the couple’s place as one of the most adored pairs in the celebrity world.
The announcement comes after months of speculation, as eagle-eyed fans had been piecing together clues from Y/N’s and Oscar’s social media posts and public appearances. The couple, who are high school sweethearts and got married last year, have always been somewhat private about their personal lives, often dodging direct questions about their relationship in interviews. Their decision to keep the pregnancy under wraps until now has been met with a mix of curiosity and respect from the public.
The lighthearted and unconventional nature of their announcement has only endeared them further to their followers. “This is peak Oscar,” one fan commented. “Only he would announce becoming a dad with a bunch of rubber ducks. Love it!”
Fellow F1 drivers were also quick to react, with many taking to social media to congratulate their colleague. Lewis Hamilton posted a series of laughing emojis and the comment, “Mate, this is brilliant. Congrats!” Meanwhile, Sergio Pérez shared the post on his story, adding, “Welcome to the club, Oscar! So happy for you and Y/N.”
Y/N’s friends from the modeling world also chimed in with their well-wishes. Supermodel and close friend Gigi Hadid commented, “So happy for you both! Can’t wait to meet the little one 🐣❤️.” Other notable names like Kendall Jenner and Hailey Bieber also left congratulatory messages, highlighting the couple’s wide circle of supportive friends.
While details about the baby’s name and gender remain under wraps, sources close to the couple suggest that both mother and baby are healthy and doing well. It’s been reported that the couple is currently enjoying some much-needed family time away from the public eye, focusing on bonding with their new arrival.
Oscar Piastri’s journey to fatherhood marks another exciting chapter in his already impressive career. The 23-year-old has been making waves in the Formula 1 world, known for his fierce competitiveness and undeniable talent on the track. His personal life, however, has remained a refreshing blend of humor and humility, as evidenced by this recent announcement.
Y/N, who has graced the covers of countless fashion magazines and walked the runways for top designers, has also been balancing her career and personal life with grace and style. The couple’s shared values and mutual support have made them a power duo, both in their professional and personal lives.
As the news continues to spread, fans eagerly await more updates from the couple, hoping for a glimpse into their life as new parents. For now, the iconic ice bath photo with its playful rubber ducks will remain a delightful and heartwarming reminder of this special moment.
In a world often dominated by glitz and glamour, Oscar and Y/N’s announcement is a breath of fresh air, reminding everyone that sometimes, the simplest and silliest moments are the ones that matter the most.
Congratulations to the happy couple on their new adventure into parenthood!
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#f1 fanfic#formula one smau#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri social media au#oscar piastri smut#oscar piastri fluff#f1 smau
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jude being needy !
nsfw, jude bellingham
you couldnt remember a time when jude wasnt needy, but sometimes it was like he couldnt keep his hands to himself, not that you minded. game days were the worst, he wouldnt be able to move on with his day unless he has had you before and after his game, no matter the results.
so as you went about your morning, you saw the hand sneaking around your waist from behind from miles away. he nuzzled his face against your neck, breathing you in, pushing his hard on against the small of your back.
"you gotta get going, jude" you whispered, turning around with a soft smile on your face. he ignored your comment, pushing you so the counter dug into your back, his hands resting next to you now.
"wont take long" he whispered, leaning down to kiss you. you sighed, hands going to the back of his neck as his lips trailed down from your lips to your neck. he wasted no time in taking you to the couch as it was closer to you, his hands moving all over your body, pushing at your pants desperately, making you chuckle, your hands coming down to help him.
he didnt bother taking off his shorts, pushing them down until his leaking cock was on display. he let his cock slip through your slit, his eyes glued to where it kept pushing against your clit, whining slightly at the feeling. he didnt stop until you came from the direct stimulation against your clit, back arching, lips bitten as to keep quiet.
"let me hear you" he whispered as he leaned down, kissing your cheek before looking down, his hand on the base of cock, pushing it into your hole. "always so tight"
his jaw was clenched, eyes tightly shut as he did his best to stay still. the second your walls stopped gripping him as tight, he was picking up his pace, fucking you like his life depended on it. his face was buried in the crook of your neck, muffling his whines against your skin. and when the two of you finally came, he didnt pull out, and it was in no time that his cock was hardening again, his hips rutting against you.
"absolutely not, come on, off" he grumbled as you pushed him away, resulting in him finally pulling out and letting his fingers run over your hole, pushing the cum that was seeping out of you back in. you couldnt help but moan, head thrown back, letting him use your hand to get off.
#jude bellingham#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham x reader#jb5#x reader#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham x you#jb#jude bellingham smut#real madrid smut#smut
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I haveth a request ☝️
could you write Cairo x g!p fem reader smut.
Maybe a childhood best friends type situation like Genius, but they stayed friends all throughout middle school and high school and they catch feelings for each other somewhere in between middle school and beginning of high school. They constantly sneak longing stares at each other and unknowingly make each other jealous until the tension is unbearable and one day when Cairo, Winnie, and reader are hanging out they started telling hookup stories but Cairo is still a virgin so she just sits there quietly listening and after Winnie goes home things happen.
No Chance
Cairo Sweet x Female (GP!) Reader (Request) (Smut, minors do not interact)
Masterlist
A/N: Feast! On the worst thing I have written thus far! I'm sorry Anon, this just didn't work for me. I wrote it, I kinda made what you asked for, but it didn't quite inspire me and I don't feel like leaving it for later would have made it flow any better.
Word count: 3.1k
You can’t love her like that. She’s your best friend.
Those were the words you kept saying to yourself for over four years now. Yet that love kept getting stronger as time passed. And every single time you thought that maybe, just maybe you could get over her you would just see her with someone, and it wouldn’t even have to be more than just sharing a laugh with some random guy, and you’d get reminded of how strong your feelings for her were.
Those feelings didn’t matter though. She was your best friend, and she didn’t love you back.
~X~
For how long was she going to torture herself like this? She loved you, she longed for you, yet her feelings always felt unrequited. True, Cairo has never been the most direct with her feelings toward you, fearing she would ruin the friendship that lasted since she was four years old. But there was no way you missed all of her longing glances. All the times she watched you so love-struck Winnie would tease her about it when it was just the two of them.
You were her protective best friend and you acted as one, though Winnie often referred to it as jealousy. Winnie didn’t know anything. You were like that even when the two of you were kids, protective and kind. It didn’t mean anything more, as she used to hope.
Not since you…
She couldn’t get angry, you just chose some other girl and that was it, and ever since then she lost hope of ever being with you. If it really didn’t mean anything to you to lose your virginity like that, why didn’t you just come to Cairo?
If it meant nothing to you, maybe in the end it would mean nothing to Cairo as well. As it was, she wasn’t even an option for you.
~X~
You and Winnie came over to hang out at Cairo’s place, since it was the most convenient location. Perks of her parents never being around, you guessed. Though you knew Cairo would gladly trade that perk for loving parents.
It started out as a regular night, you and Cairo leaning against the headboard of her bed, while Winnie sat at the foot of it. Being this close to Cairo wasn’t anything new, but you couldn’t help but feel the tension, something unspoken between the two of you ever since you told her about the girl you slept with. Either way, the three of you were playing cards until Winnie decided to speak up.
“Oh, yeah, did you ever go out with that girl you fucked?” she asked while you were in the middle of drinking the juice.
And, naturally, you nearly choked on it, because who the fuck opens the conversation with that?!
“Easy, lover girl,” Cairo was patting your back a bit too harshly, but it was getting the job done, and nearly choking made you miss the passive aggression dripping from her tone.
“Thanks,” you wheezed, finally sure that you would survive. “I’m okay now,” you glared at Winnie who just shrugged, though she did have an apologetic smile on her face.
“So, the what’s-her-name girl,” she reminded you as Cairo leaned back on her bed, though she made some extra distance between the two of you.
You rolled your eyes. “It was a one-night stand, we had a fun time and I left her house after we were done, I didn’t even sleep over,” you shrugged, giving up the minimal information because you knew Winnie wouldn’t let it go now that she remembered it.
Winnie stared at you blankly. “That’s a boring story for your first time,” she complained.
“Better boring than bad,” you figured reminding Winnie of her own first experience, which, well, didn’t end that spectacularly.
“Still,” Winnie let the gravity do its’ job as she leaned to the side and fell onto the bed. “I thought you’d wait for someone you love,” she pointed out.
You looked away, not wanting to look at Cairo at the moment.
“Y/N?” Cairo noticed your silence, forcing you to turn back and grin.
“There’s no point. I don’t have a chance with her, so, you know, no point in waiting,” you’ve given up on Cairo ever returning your feelings, so it really didn’t matter who you lost your virginity to. Not the most mature approach, but you were only eighteen, it was difficult to expect a mature approach from someone your age.
You could see Winnie about to tease you, but you glanced at her, shaking your head lightly and it luckily sent the message across, stopping her from saying anything else.
Eventually, it was just you and Cairo, as Winnie had to go finish some art project and for once Cairo figured she wanted to watch a movie.
“So, it’s nothing to you, having sex?” she asked you out of blue as the slow opening scene began playing on the TV, and you looked at her, frankly, confused by the tone of her voice. She sounded jealous and if she truly was jealous, you wished she showed you that earlier.
“I guess,” you fell back so you were lying next to her instead of sitting, though you could still see her face, and just looked at the ceiling. It’s not that it was nothing to you, you just, as you said to her and Winnie before, didn’t think you had a chance with ‘the one you loved’ that one being Cairo. So, you went and lost your virginity, it was mutual understanding that it was a one-night stand, and that was it.
“So, you wouldn’t mind taking someone’s virginity?” she asked, leaning back but not quite lying down and trailed her fingers across your arm.
Blood rushed to your face at the look in her eyes. You had to be misunderstanding this somehow, right? Surely, she didn’t mean her virginity?! “Yours?” you squeaked, which only made you feel even more embarrassed.
Cairo nodded, blushing furiously. “I don’t really want to lose it to just anyone, and you’re,” she paused, looking down as her hand slipped from your arm and onto the bed. “My best friend,” she refused to look at you.
You swallowed hard, fuck, she was serious. You touched her chin and gently tilted it up. “Are you sure?” you asked her and she just nodded, her eyes finally meeting your own.
“Let me take you out on a date first, give you the whole experience,” you suggested. “Tomorrow after school, we grab a nice dinner, and then if you’re still sure this is what you want, we’ll do it,” you still expected her to tell you it was a prank, but she just nodded, and though it was awkward and both of you stole occasional glances at each other you managed to get through the movie.
~X~
You took Cairo out, as you promised. After school you showed up at her house with a bouquet of red roses, properly dressed up for the date and forcing yourself not to look at her too much, as she was dressed in a beautiful, kinda short, black dress with open back.
“You look amazing,” you said smiling slightly as you handed her the flowers.
“Thanks,” she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and the two of you went out. You took her to the local restaurant, then to a bookstore, then for a brief walk before you finally went back to her place, and you could feel both of you being on the edge at the moment.
“If you change your mind we can stop at any time, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or if I’m hard, or if I’m even inside you. You say stop, we stop,” you assured her as she led you by your hand to her bedroom.
Cairo nodded and kissed your cheek. “You as well, I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” she told you as she sat down on her bed.
“Thanks,” you sat down to her right and leaned over, kissing her neck and her breath hitched. “Is this okay?”
“Mhm,” she closed her eyes and leaned back, exposing her neck to you. She moved her hands up and the tips of her fingers lightly massaged your cheek and jaw while her left hand slipped to the back of your head, her fingers running through your hair and massaging your scalp. “Oh,” she hummed when you found a more sensitive spot and sucked on it, surely leaving a hickey right there.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” you whispered, your lips gliding over her skin until you reached her ear and gently nibbled on her earlobe. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Cairo squeezing her thighs, you saw her breasts rising and falling as her breathing became deeper.
You were going slow, making sure she felt every sensation as you slid your hand down her side, to her thigh, and you squeezed lightly before pushing her thighs apart and slipping a hand under her dress. You felt her tensing and relaxing as you caressed her bare stomach and sides, just playfully teasing her by occasionally pulling at the strap of her bra.
“Y/N,” she sighed, and you drank it all in, every small sigh, every tiny whimper or moan, every sound you made her make. You took it all in, not for a moment pausing when it came to kissing her neck.
“How are you feeling?” you asked her.
Did you really have to ask her? The only thing that would have made this even better would be if you kissed her on the lips, but it felt like you weren’t going to do that. Even without that she felt so damn good, your warm soft lips on her neck, your wet tongue, dragging over her sensitive neck, your hand under her dress, teasing her everywhere you could reach. She felt aroused, she felt the wetness soaking her panties and that was the only uncomfortable feeling she had. She needed to get them off, to feel your fingers down there instead. “It feels good, I need more though,” she gasped as you bit her neck. How long have you been paying attention to her neck? It was sensitive to begin with, but now it felt like every little touch was going straight to her puss. “Please, Y/N,” she moaned and leaned back, falling onto the bed and pulling you along with her.
“Are you getting wet, hm, Baby?” you rasped, and she gasped, her fingers digging into the back of your head as her left hand slipped down your throat, her nails undoubtedly leaving red stripes down your skin
“Yes! Please touch me,” she whimpered arching her back when you cupped her breast through her bra. You were building up her anticipation and she wondered why she ever waited to do this. Why did she never asked you to take her virginity before. “Can I kiss you?” she pleaded as she made you look her in the eyes.
“Cairo, that’s…” you paused, losing your momentum. As crazy as it might sound, you felt like kissing her would make this too real, that it would be one detail that makes all your feelings come out. That feeling her lips against yours would, more than anything, make you give into your feelings and ruin the friendship that was already hanging by the thread.
“Please,” she was breathing heavily, turned on, yet you saw something else in her eyes, something that couldn’t be true.
“I,” you tried to resist her, to not cross that line, but how many times did you imagine kissing her? You feared you’d regret either choice. In the end you nodded, and her lips pressed softly against yours, her hand gripping the fabric of your shirt as she pressed against you. And instead of fondling her breast you lowered your hand to her waist and hugged her.
Cairo moaned into the kiss, feeling like someone was setting off fireworks in her head. You let her kiss you, and she would be damned if she didn’t kiss you as many times as she would be allowed to tonight. If this was the one and only time the two of you would be intimate like this, she wanted all of it.
You separated from air, and you leaned your forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” your apology made her heart sink. “I love you. You’re the one I have no chance wi-“ she cut you off with another kiss, her tongue danced with your own and she made you switch positions to get on top of you. “Fuck, Cairo,” you hissed as she threw her dress off and lifted your shirt up.
“You,” she was feral, kissing your neck, grinding against you, her hands roaming your body as if she had to map out every bit of your skin in her mind. “Dumbass!”
You just blinked, eyes wide and mouth open as you watched her, unable to come up with a response.
“Don’t have a chance with me?! I’ve loved you for years you idiot!” she yelled, her voice cracking as she pulled back and just looked at you. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing you deeply and it all made sense now, her reactions, her glances, and you cursed yourself for being too blind to see that all along your feelings were reciprocated. “I love you,” she said again when she paused kissing you. “Now, let’s finish what we started,” she whispered, her lips ghosting over yours and you lost it a bit when she took her underwear off and helped you strip as well. You were already hard, but you wanted to prepare her more, to make her cum, or at least bring her close first.
“Yes, Ma’am,” you teased and slipped a finger between her folds, she was wet enough for your finger to just slip in.
“Fuck,” she whispered at the feeling of your finger pushing into her and she wondered how your cock would feel as she experimentally rocked her hips back and forth, causing her clit to rub against your palm.
“That’s it, Baby, ride it,” you gently pushed another finger inside her after you were sure she was wet and stretched enough, and it took a bit to adjust, but the pleasure more than made up for it. Cairo leaned down, pulling your head to her breasts and moaning. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, she gripped your shoulder, and the back of your head as you kissed her breasts and occasionally sucked her nipples. She felt good before, but now that she knew you loved her, now that you were no longer having sex as best friends, but as two people that loved one another, every touch felt more intense.
You held her hip with your free hand, your fingers occasionally slipping down to her ass as you guided her movement. “Wait,” she cried out. She was close, she was so close, but she wanted to have an orgasm with your cock inside her, and just like you promised you would you stopped completely, pulling your fingers out of her and completely halting everything you were doing. “I want your cock inside me,” she assured you before you could start worrying.
You nodded, flipping the two of you around once more. “It’ll be easier like this,” you told her as you brushed some of her bangs from her eyes and kissed her softly. You pulled a condom out of the pocket of your pants and opened it. “Just give me a moment,” you whispered in her ear, putting the condom on and just to make it as easy as it possibly could be, lubed it up.
Cairo moaned as you slowly pushed the head of your cock inside her while rubbing her clit. “I’ve got you, just relax,” you hugged her with your other arm and peppered her neck and shoulders with butterfly kisses as you pushed further inside.
“I know,” she hugged you back, pulled you closer to her and took several deep breaths as you pushed the last inch into her. “You got me,” she whispered, throwing her head back and taking a moment to adjust.
“Does it hurt?” you asked as you left kisses from her shoulder all the way to her lips.
“No, I just feel so full, just give me a moment,” she pulled you in for a kiss, her tongue slipping inside your mouth as she slowly pulled her hips back a bit and then pushed back against you. “Feels so good,” she moaned, encouraging you to slowly start moving as well.
She was tight, and her pussy was clenching around you so hard you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long, and you didn’t want to resort to thinking about anything else to stop yourself from cumming. Not when you were finally with Cairo. “I don’t think I’ll last long,” you told her as much.
“Me neither!” she cried out, her face twisting into an expression of pleasure as you gradually picked up the pace. “Just a bit more, Baby,” she encouraged you and you rubbed her clit harder, intent on making her cum first. Your efforts paid off as her back arched and she gasped, cumming with a near silent cry and pushing you over the edge as well.
You pulled out, shaky and out of breath, but satisfied as you kissed Cairo once more. “You have no idea how much I am going to kiss you from now on,” you chuckled, unable to get enough of her lips.
“Mhm, you better do some other things as well,” she pecked you on the lips, a bit too tired to do anything else.
You nodded, taking a deep breath and feeling your body relaxing as you helped Cairo calm down as well. “I’m going to go and get a bath ready for you,” you whispered, but just as you were about to pull away she reached up and grabbed your hand.
“For us,” she said with a smile on her face and you nodded.
“Right, for us,” you leaned down, kissing her softly once more before you headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and get a bath ready for you and Cairo.
#cairo sweet x female reader#cairo sweet x reader#cairo sweet#miller's girl#jenna ortega x reader#bottom cairo sweet#top reader#gp! reader#x reader#x female reader
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Change of Heart
hitman!simon x f!reader / part 8
previous part
tw: alcohol use, angst, mentions of death
When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.
Waking up the next morning was the biggest slap in the face. It singed your skin with a burning sting, leaving you disoriented and lost. It was as if the brutal force of realization had hit you so hard, it knocked any form of thought right out of your mind except for pain. Irrepressible pain that caused you to feel numb.
Simon had left. All of your worried texts proved futile. What once showed as blue was now a sickening green that glared back at you. Your number was blocked, your messages unable to go through, and you were left an even shattered version than before. You were glass shards left to lay on the floor, you were a broken wind chime that could no longer provide a charming ambience.
You were broken and useless, tossed to the side like a damaged piece of scrap.
Simon had lived up to his name, and disappeared like a ghost. Drifting off into shadows of darkness, seeping into them and becoming one, never to be seen again.
You were hurt. Scratch that, that was a nice way of putting it – you were devastated. The walls you had so graciously taken down for him were now jagged pieces of debris with no mortar to glue them back together one by one. They were unrepairable, crumbling far too much to be saved.
Everything you ever learned about Simon felt like a lie, because that’s what he did – he lied. The glass was too foggy to tell the difference between what was a lie, and what wasn’t. If there were any parts of Simon that were truthful, you didn’t believe it. There was no grace of god to be there to lend a guiding hand to point you in the right direction. All you had was your gut, telling you deranged criticisms.
He lied to you, this was all a game, and you fell for it.
You should’ve known, really. A man like Simon was not one to love and be loved, not when he had an apparition named Ghost to steer him away from any attachment. After all, spirits could not grow devoted to a mere mortal woman who had nothing left to offer. You were stupid to think otherwise.
Graves was a bad enough person. He hurt you, tormented you, claimed you in order to assure your life was a living hell, with or without him. Now, the smallest part of you didn’t think he could be as cruel as Simon at this moment. It was a brainless thought, one you knew was far from true.
Simon never hurt you, nor did he treat you as bad as Graves.
But at least Graves didn’t have the gall to abandon you like an unwanted dog on the street.
Your mind was ping-ponging back and forth between truth and deception. You didn’t know what was real. It hazed over you, muting out every bit of you that was left inside and replacing it with nothing but cracked foundation.
Nothing was real. Nothing was worth it.
You didn’t leave the house for the entirety of the day, nor the next. You stayed in the confinement of your own home, feeling like a caged animal with no way out. You were slowly decaying away, losing the truest part of yourself, no longer able to see her in the reflection. She stared back at you with a ghostly image, whispering about how disappointed she was in you, how hateful she felt towards you.
She whispered about Simon, burdening you with reminders of what could’ve been if you were simply a little less broken. Bringing him up just to dig the knife in more, twisting it under your skin and basking in the bloodshed.
You were spiraling, just like you always did, because it was all you were good for. Simon was another excuse to crumble back into a deeply rooted self hatred. He was just a chess piece, a single card in a stack of dozens, while you picked it up and returned to your old game of reckless entertainment.
Day fourteen came before you know it. And you spent it completely by yourself, pondering why you ever made a deal with the devil in the first place.
It was easy to fall back into old habits when there was nothing there to offer recovery. Relapsing was what you did best, even when Simon was around, and you’d be damned if you didn’t do it again with him gone. It was a part of you, this endless cycle of self abuse, and it wasn’t going anywhere. It was simply on a temporary pause, now returning with more fiery persistence than before.
Alcohol was the only home you ever knew. It warmed you to the bone, engulfing you in a buzzing fervor. It welcomed you back with open arms, holding on to you with no intent of letting go. You were its lovely hostage, and you had grown Stockholm Syndrome.
Weeks passed by of tireless nights filled with the bitter taste that burned in your throat on repeat. Weeks were spent holed up in your apartment, nursing the only friend you had. This time around, you weren’t picky. You took whatever you could get, uncaring of the repercussions
And even in those weeks, Simon never left your mind. It was like a punishment for being good enough to fuck, but not good enough to stick around. It tortured your mind to the point of insanity.
The more alcohol you had, the more the memory of him became cloudy. It was exactly why you drowned yourself in it. You didn’t want to picture Simon’s face. Didn’t want to picture the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, or the way his smile was a bit crooked and off center. You didn’t want to picture him, and the future you grew too eager for, one that consisted of the two of you. Two puzzle pieces fitting together, only to be wretched apart and pressed down in separate corners.
You were completely losing yourself. All over a man who had broken you.
The cycle repeats. And repeats. You let it repeat, until hopefully one day, the alcohol would prove to be enough to give you the death you so greedily wanted.
It wasn’t until nearly four weeks in utter disarray that the cycle began to morph, railing off of the tracks that you worked so hard to have control over.
Deep into your daily routine of excessive drinking and wallowing in your own self-pity, the door knocked. You nearly missed it, brushing it off as your imagination. You didn’t have visitors, and the only one who cared to take that spot until leaving you was Simon.
Glancing around your apartment, you visibly winced at the disheveled sight of it. Bottles were thrown around carelessly, littering the kitchen counters and living room floor, where you were currently residing with a nameless show playing on the television. Hell had flown through your apartment, and it was your fault it had gotten this way again.
Old habits die hard. And you were always its unfortunate victim when those habits needed a host to leech on to once more.
Clambering up from where you sat on the floor, you somehow made your way to the door by the grace of god. It was late, and if you read right from the clock on the stove, it was past midnight. Anybody could be outside – a killer, an intruder, a thief. It was a mix between not caring about dying, and having enough logical sense to know nobody dangerous would knock first, that had you opening the door.
An unfamiliar man stood tall in the frame, bushy facial hair, sunken eyes that barely held a spark, almost as broad and stiff as Simon. But it wasn’t Simon, and this man was a mere stranger.
“Jesus,” the man muttered under his breath at the state of you. You frowned, feeling small and weak in comparison. After a moment, he cleared his throat, speaking again. “Need to talk to you. Can I come in?”
“I don’t even know who you are,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes.
“M’a friend of Simon’s,” he explained woefully. The sound of Simon’s name coming from somebody else’s lips and not yours had your heart clenching with a dull ache. It sent ice cold chills running through your veins. “The name’s John Price.”
You stared at him with a look of disdain. You never heard Simon mention him before. The more you thought about it, you never heard Simon mention anybody. He was an enigma that you fell into too easily without even knowing a lick of who he was outside of your temporary protector.
“If you’re looking for him, I don’t know where he is,” you replied dryly, gripping a hand on the door and beginning to close it. Before the hinge could click into place, John’s boot stopped it, wedging itself between the door and its frame. He gave you a tight smile, one that had you tensing.
“I know where he is, dove. I said that I need to talk to you.”
The two of you became trapped in a staredown, one that you were too exhausted to fight to be the champion of. Begrudgingly, you opened the door wide enough to allow him to slip in, shutting it behind him. You watched as he took in your apartment, surely judging the whirlwind of it. He wasn’t exactly the type to hide away his distaste, if his mockingly amused expression was any type of indication.
“What do you want?” you asked him, disregarding your own mess and instead focusing on him. He turned to look at you, flashing you another smile. It seemed trusting enough, kind even, but by this time, you knew better.
“Came to offer you a deal, of sorts,” he vocalized. “Might I sit?”
You glanced over at the living room, shame bubbling in you at the sight of the bottle you’d been indulging in before he came around. “Sure.”
You trailed behind him when he took his seat on the couch, letting out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back into it. His display of comfort made you feel uneasy. You made no effort to join him, opting to stand in the middle of the room.
“You were rather close with Simon, weren’t you?” he asked, causing you to scoff to yourself.
“Sure. What’s that got to do with anything?” you asked grimly.
Price hummed to himself, tapping his fingers against his knee. It caused a faint, muted sound of rough, calloused fingertips to chafe against the material of his pants. “Figured so. Allow me to ask you somethin’. You know of Simon’s occupation, right?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Silly me, that’s how you met, isn’t it?” He chuckled to himself. You weren’t sure what was so amusing. “Well, here’s the thing – his performance has been a bit… hindered as of late. I have a strong inkling that it’s because of you.”
The air in the room was tense, nearly suffocating you. Price had such a soft aura that was hiding menacing intentions. You could see through it.
“I need a favor from you, doll.”
“And that is?” you asked carefully.
He smiled at you, cocking his head. “I need you to reject him. Tell him you’re better off, that you don’t need him, whatever you can say to make him get his head back in the fuckin’ game. This job of ours isn’t a joke, you see. I can’t have him slackin’ off. That’s how he’ll end up caught and thrown in jail. Once it reaches that point, I can’t help him out of it. That’s why I need you to help me before that happens.”
Your eyes widened in bewilderment at the sheer nerve of Price. Asking you to tell Simon off, to lie and say you were happy without him? Fuck, the proof was in the pudding – you weren’t, and you could almost guarantee that Simon would know you were lying from one single word. Sure, you were mad at him – pissed – but you also wanted no part in this game Price was playing.
The more you sat on it, the more it became twisted. You were thrown in a tangled web of deception and betrayal, stuck to it like glue, fighting for your way out.
But how much of it was betrayal? How much of it was trickery?
Price’s words echoed in your mind on repeat. They formed together, creating a clear picture.
Price had been the one to have Simon toss you out. He was the reason for your harrowing spiral. He was why Simon had left you, treating you as if you didn’t exist. Just a pawn in his game, and you were too stupid to realize it all sooner.
“You did this?” you snapped. Price raised an eyebrow at you, but said nothing. “You… you’re the reason for all of this, and now you’re asking me for help to lie to him? Are you insane?”
His expression twitched into a flash of annoyance before returning back to a mask. Alarms rang in your head. “I’m doin’ this for Simon. You’re a little bird he fell into when he shouldn’t have, and now I’m tryin’ to fix it before it’s too late.”
“Bullshit. You’re doing this to save your own ass.”
“I’d highly advise watchin’ yourself, doll,” Price muttered in warning, eyes narrowed and expression darkened. “You don’t know anythin’ about what we do. Don’t know how dangerous it is for you to be involved with Simon, and for Simon to be involved with you. I’m savin’ Simon’s ass from fuckin’ up one too many times.”
The atmosphere was even thicker than before. It was hard to breathe. It made you queasy, as if poisoned with a heavy gas that may just kill you if you inhaled it for too long.
Price and you stared at one another, both stubborn and pulled taut. His anger simmered to a low boil once the two of you took that silence to gather your thoughts, but it didn’t entirely vanish. You could still see a flicker of a flame in his eyes.
He was dangerous. Not somebody you wanted to get tangled up in, but you had no choice. You were too deep into this webbed mess, and it was only a matter of time before it came to bite back at you.
“What’s wrong with him?” you finally asked, voice quiet and solemn. You crossed your arms over your chest, turning your gaze away from him so you didn’t have to see his display of weak sympathy and mock judgment.
“He fell in love with you, that’s what’s wrong,” Price bit back, sneering. “Now he’s weak. Can’t do his job correctly, got his head in the fuckin’ clouds, snaps at everybody who tries to talk to him. He’s riskin’ himself, riskin’ us, and I can’t afford losin’ a brother over some girl.”
Price’s words were bitter and cruel. It only irritated you, pricking at your skin until it drove you mad. All calmness that had festered in your brief silence washed away, replaced with the old flame of your anger.
“Losing him?” You laughed bitterly, throwing your head back in disbelief. “Sounds to me like it’s your fault and not mine. Have you ever thought that maybe you’re the reason he’s all fucked up?”
Price stood from where he sat on the couch. There were no longer kind features adorning his face. It was replaced with twisted anger, morphing into something unrecognizable. When he stepped closer to you until you were nearly nose to nose, it was like looking into the eyes of a feral wolf, ready to tear you apart at any given second.
“Wise words comin’ from an alcoholic,” he muttered lowly. It was a hard pill to swallow. “I was tryin’ to be nice, doll. I was givin’ you an option. A choice. You’re just as fucked up as Simon. The difference is that you’re goin’ down a path nobody can save you from. I can save Simon.”
The words slapped you harsh in the face. It was brutal and cruel, and he showed no remorse for the damage he was doing. This was a man who got what he wanted, hurting everybody in the process so long as he achieved it. His goal was to save Simon from his impending doom, and he was willing to take you down to make it happen.
“If you really cared about Simon, you would’ve never let him get to this state in the first place,” you retorted back just as cruelly. “It’s not my fault, and I’m not going to sit here and let you blame me for it. Take a look in the mirror and you’ll get your answer on why he’s being this way.”
Silence. Aching, deafening silence. It tinged the air with a sour smell. The two of you were making no moves of backing down, and it was simply a recipe for disaster.
You didn’t know why you were defending Simon. After what he did, he didn’t deserve your care. He didn’t deserve to have you bandage over his name from the countless wounds he’d inflicted on it by leaving you behind after taking all of you in this very apartment.
However, with a missing puzzle piece being added to the pile, that being Price, you couldn’t help but offer your support from afar. It was clear he had no hand in this game. He was a pawn, just as much as you.
“I’m not helping you toy with his feelings,” you whispered. This time, you sounded defeated rather than angry. Broken, sad, dejected. “He doesn’t deserve that.”
Price sucked in a sharp breath, stepping away but keeping his gaze pointed to you. He said nothing for the first few moments, eyes flickering over the worn out lines on your face. Empty eyes, ones that were surely full of life at some point in your life. Perhaps even lit up with Simon around.
He had taken that away from you, and it was only then he was realizing how cruel he was being. All of it, for the sake of protecting his own, of protecting Simon. He was so consumed by the thought of keeping Simon out of trouble, that he only sought to create more for you. A civilian, one who simply got wrapped up in the wrong crowd.
No outsider had ever cared for Simon like Price, Gaz, and Soap did. They were all each other had, bound together by an unfortunate calling. Nobody was allowed in, or out.
Then you came along, and Ghost had quickly become Simon again.
“You’re not goin’ to make this easy for me, are you?” Price sighed, shoulders deflating, releasing its built up tension.
“No. I’m not,” you agreed grimly.
“Stubborn one, you are,” he hummed, and dare you say it, he sounded amused. “Can see why Simon likes you.”
You glanced up at him, noting the faintest of smiles on his face. It was barely visible, a ghost on his lips, but even through your hazed exhaustion, you could see it.
“Tell you what,” he began, crossing his arms to match your stance. “I’ll talk to him. See what I can do. M’not promisin’ anythin’. This isn’t the type of life I want you wrapped up in, but I can see that you’re only goin’ to wallow here until you drop dead. I don’t want that blood on my hands.”
“What are you saying?” you asked suspiciously.
“I’m sayin’, that I’ll try to see if it could work. Again, m’not promisin’ you anythin’, doll. But if you’re the reason Simon can get his head out of his ass and stop doin’ sloppy work, then I’ll see what I can do.”
It was no guarantee, but Price was trying. One moment, he was begging you to hurt Simon to the point he’d never think of crawling back to you. Now, the story had changed, and he was making a peace offering.
You weren’t sure whether or not to trust him. You shouldn’t. It was a bad idea.
But the thought of seeing Simon again, to mend the broken bond you had formed, caused you to agree.
Simon was fucked. He’d drowned himself in a world of pure guilt ever since he’d blocked your number and called it quits. He was miserable, more than he’d ever been.
He didn’t feel guilt. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all. He was Ghost, after all, and ghosts didn’t feel. Yet with you, the narrative had switched. It was as if the gates of heaven had opened up, offering him a chance at redemption. He felt everything all at once – love, care, affection, longing, heartache.
Everything felt right with you. It was like he had finally found his home, only to have it torn away from the grasp of his hands. No matter how much he tried holding on to it, it proved a fruitless effort. It was gone before he even resided.
Simon’s mind became a jumbled mess. He returned to the empty shell he was before when nothing mattered and he only saw the world through a red-colored lens. It was straining, it was harsh. It hurt to wake up everyday and see a colorless world waiting for him.
His shattered, frail mind affected everything he’d ever known. Work became a chore. He was messy, careless, and the darkest part of him wished he would be caught so he could force himself into punishment for hurting an angel sent from above that was placed in his life to nurture him.
It was what he deserved. Simon was a man who fell in love, and Ghost was the devil that reminded him that he was undeserving. Unworthy.
You deserved better than him. You deserved the world, and Simon was the one who would take from it with greedy hands caked in the blood of God’s creations.
Everyday burned with an itch to see you, to send you a text. He missed you, but he hated himself more. It stopped him from reaching out, caused him to pull back on the reins and pace himself. Nothing could scratch the burning itch except for the brutal reminder that you deserved better.
The weeks were hell without you. He’d grown agitated at everything around him, going as far as to snap at Gaz and Johnny when they attempted to console him, to snap at Price out of unfiltered rage at what he made him do. He was too far gone, and the only foundation he had left was beginning to crumble, all because of him.
Damn Price for taking you away, and damn you for making him fall in love.
Simon didn’t know how much more he could take. It was eating away at him, like a parasite feeding off of its host, draining him of all soul. Even now, as he sat in his own apartment, hidden on his balcony and smoking all of his worries away with hopes of succumbing to the nasty tar that threatened to rise in his throat every time, he was decaying. Withering away, like a fragile flower.
The night was dark. The stars didn’t shine as brightly as they did on your balcony. The air didn’t feel as pure without you to share it with him. The smoke didn’t wisp up into silly, little shapes, and instead, tainted the air with polluted illness.
It was positively suffocating.
As Simon nursed the cigarette to the very end, stubbing it out with his boot and carelessly leaving it littered with the rest of them on his balcony, he heard the faint knock on his door. He silently prayed it was death, here to take him away and rid him of his pain for good.
It wasn’t death, but it was damn near close.
“Price,” he grumbled at the sight of the older man. It was too late for him to make an appearance, so he wasn’t sure why he did. Maybe Price had truly given up on him and was here to offer mercy.
Price didn’t care for greetings, stepping past Simon and into his apartment. Simon followed after him with his gaze, mentally preparing himself for another lecture. It was bound to happen at this point, seeing as Price was fed up.
Simon knew he was putting their lives on the line by being reckless. He just didn’t have it in him to care.
Closing the door behind him, Simon kept his distance, not uttering a word until Price spoke first. The man in question lingered around his apartment, seeming to stall with time, too choked up for words.
“You need somethin’, sir?” Simon finally asked. Price lifted his eyes to look at Simon. For a moment, they were unreadable. Masking away his thoughts, tucking them far in the back of his mind.
Price let out a deep exhale through his nostrils. He stood there in silence for what felt like eternity. Simon could see the gears shifting in his mind, working overtime.
“Go and get your bird back, Simon,” Price sighed, but to Simon, it sounded like church bells ringing on a Sunday morning, beckoning him home.
so many of y'all thought the last part was the end, but i'm not that cruel ;( i promise
#call of duty#cod#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#john price#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley#ghost cod#hitman!simon#hitman au#cod mw3#ghost x reader#cod fanfic#cod mw2
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Traditional - Extra VII
Read Traditional here | ~4.1k words
Warnings: smut. 18+ only. oral (m), sex, maybe public if you believe enough. Otherwise, it's kinda fluffy
From me: idk I think Harry can be a little TOO self-loathing. And he is really so sweet and nice overall. I think he deserves some TRADITIONAL sugar-daddy CEO treatment.
Summary: Harry is a lot calmer now that the client fiasco is over. But he's still on edge. Fortunately, she has an idea to take the edge off.
Harry was much more pleased with the direction of his company now that the biggest crisis of his career was finally in the rearview mirror. Now that her arm was healed and his clients were stable, everything was much better.
Except Harry didn’t fully accept it.
It was like there was a little worm in his brain that ate at him and whispered directly into the auditorial processing space that something, at any moment, would go wrong. The other shoe would drop and he would be back at square one.
“Baby?” She interrupted his thoughts of worthlessness and impostor syndrome. God he needed to see someone. But when was there time? “I asked about dinner, it’s Monday,” she reminded him gently. His mind reeling but he wanted to focus on her.
He wasn’t angry. For the first time in months. It felt like that for everyone around him. It created an entirely different vibe in the office. People weren’t scared during meetings. He didn’t slam his phone down when something was late.
But she noticed how withdrawn he was because she knew him.
“Are you alright?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory. It was still quiet. Like she was a little afraid she would set him off. But he hadn’t bought new electronics in months. The accounting department joked they would get to decrease the furniture budget this quarter as it closed. Harry couldn’t do anything but laugh because it was true. It was the first time he felt at ease since the mess happened.
It was awful.
“M’fine,” he smiled gently at her. It was their daily meeting. The one Harry didn’t even know they had until he saw it written on her calendar back when her cramps made her sleep through it. But he knew she didn’t believe his hand-waving denial. He wasn’t fine, she knew it.
“Okay,” she sipped her drink and eyed him suspiciously.
He was looking at the papers on his desk and every little negative number made his heart skip a beat.
This wasn’t healthy.
“Are you sure?” She asked again.
That wasn’t helping him either. How perceptive she was and knowing exactly what he was feeling. It was almost annoying that she could do it. All he wanted to do was hide his feelings from her the way he was supposed to, and she made it so difficult.
God, she was perfect.
He nodded silently, not looking up at her because if he did, she would read him like an open book. She would praise him and tell him he was perfect. He didn’t want that. It was stupid, but he needed to believe it himself. It was partially his own fault. Styles Inc. suffered very few hiccups other than getting up and running. Back when he had just graduated, and he had stuffed every penny he had into the two offices he and Niall needed to get started. It grew before his eyes. He believed he was important and doing important things. He knew he was talented and doing well.
Almost having to fire her was the worst wakeup call.
“Harry,” her voice broke his thoughts again.
“Yeah, kitten?” He hummed trying to admire the green numbers on the spreadsheet before him. They were large and lovely. The red ones amounted to next to nothing in comparison. But it didn’t matter. They were terrifying.
“Baby, I just asked you if you think I should go out for drinks with a client that keeps hitting on me so that we can get a bigger contract from him, and you said that was a good idea.”
His head snapped up. Jealousy pierced his heart and ran hot through his blood in seconds. “What client hits on you?” He scowled. They were dropping said client. Effective immediately. Not even feeling like an impostor would deter him from that kind of behavior. It wouldn’t matter if they were his biggest client either. If they were hitting on her—
“You really think a client would be stupid enough to hit on me knowing you’re my boyfriend?” She asked a slight smirk on her lips.
He ran a hand over his face. Of course they wouldn’t. Harry had a scary side, and everyone knew it. If they even tried to flirt with her Harry would probably break their neck. The little jealous monster inside of his head was more powerful than the worm that told him he wasn’t talented, and he could lose it all at a moment’s notice.
And he hated that word lately. He needed to add another reminder on his phone to remedy that immediately as well. Boyfriend. It was so childish sounding. He was a successful businessman, and he had a gorgeous girlfriend who made him feel like... well... like he deserved to own such a successful company. Fiancé. Husband. That had a nicer ring to it. He needed to fix that soon.
“Harry,” she giggled.
“What?”
“You’re staring at me,” she was blushing. Looked away as she sat in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk.
He sighed and smiled tiredly. “Course,” he really looked at her again, not just spaced out like he had been doing. The way her hair fell, the way her lip gloss coated her straw. The way her nail polish chipped—he would send her for a manicure (with Eleanor so she’d actually go) even though she preferred when Harry painted them—hence the chipping.
Harry was so captivated by her. It did seem like a crime that he hadn’t given her his full attention during their coffee break. Part of him thought she should model for offices or office furniture. It was sexist and lizard-brained of him. But she was so pretty it was the only thing he could think of in that moment. Then he considered the notion of her being a professor or a doctor—even though he knew she wasn’t qualified for it. But it didn’t matter. He suspected she could do it without training. She was too lovely. The fact that she was intelligent and beautiful and nice was unfair. He didn’t deserve something so good when he could lose the biggest reason she was in his life. “You’re so pretty, kitten.”
Her cheeks turned red again. Harry thought he would explode. “Don’t change the subject.”
“M’not,” he pouted. She did the cute little nose wrinkle that made Harry’s heart skip a beat the same way the negative numbers on spreadsheets did but this time he didn’t mind.
“Your brain has been elsewhere during this whole meeting—”
“Can y’please stop calling it a meeting, kitten?” he grumbled. It felt so wrong to call it a meeting when he was in love with her. Like he needed a corporate excuse to have her sit in his office.
“Pretenses, baby. Don’t want anyone to know I’m your second favorite.”
He grunted, running a hand over his face as the irritation sank in again because of her words. “Niall is not m’favorite.”
She smiled impishly. Her cheeks looked like little apples that Harry wanted to kiss and take bites out of. Her eyes danced with mischievousness that he thought she could only have learned from Louis.
He loved her so much.
Which was why he was so mad that he was worried. If this company suffered the thought of letting her down, of telling her that he wasn’t successful anymore. He met her only because he did well and was successful. How would she love him if that wasn’t true anymore?
“Harry, I’m going to drag you to the hospital if you don’t tell me.”
“Can we talk ‘bout it at home?”
She frowned. “Oh, it’s not work related?” She asked.
He shook his head, confused as to how she would conclude such a thing. “What do y’mean?”
“Well... if it was work-related, you would tell me now. You only tell me relationship-related things at home. Which means now I have to go back to my office and conference call Louis and Eleanor and pull Niall from his work so we can discuss where I’m going to live because you can’t take the sound of me singing in the shower anymore. What’s worse is Louis will agree and he won’t want me to live with him and Eleanor either. Then I’ll have to find my own place and it won’t have room for a porch swing and—”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kitten, shut up,” he sighed. She smiled sweetly, unperturbed by the way he said it because he sounded exhausted with her, which was almost definitely her goal. He knew she liked to annoy him—even when he was already suffering internally.
“I don’t want to say it’s your fault, baby. But if you would just tell me what—”
“I don’t feel successful.”
She tilted her head at him curiously. “You don’t?”
He shook his head feeling the nerves in every inch of his skeleton. Right down to the bone. Past the bone. Probably to the atoms or even further to each proton and neutron. Telling her made it real. Telling her anything meant he had to deal with what he was feeling because she wouldn’t let him brush it away.
She was about as bad as the worm in his head.
“Okay,” she nodded. Then there was silence.
They stared at each other for a significant moment. Harry thought it could have been ten minutes, but it might have only been ten seconds. “You’re not going t’say anything?” He asked.
She shrugged. “I could,” she smiled gently. Almost pitifully. It made Harry feel the slightest bit worse. But then she made it better. Of course she did. She made everything seem so... simple. In the best way. A point of view he hadn’t considered. “I could ask you why. Or tell you how it’s not true—all of which I do believe. But I actually think it’s kind of more serious than that. I think you went through a really difficult thing. It piled and piled and you dealt with it. More than anyone here. Because you care and love this place with everything in you,” she listed. “I think you’ll need to talk to someone more qualified than me to fully deal with it. But I will list every reason why you’re completely, totally, and simply wrong another time. When you’re not so sad looking and it won’t fall on deaf ears,” she assured him with a pointed expression that he had fallen in love with so many times over it was uncanny.
Had he mentioned he loved her so much?
“Oh,” he murmured.
She stood up, moved around his desk and leaned against the edge in front of him. Her eyes didn’t move from his and she brought a hand to his face, traced the curve of his jaw, the soft pink lips she loved so much. “Why are you worried you’re not successful?” She asked.
She really knew where to hit him where it hurt. “Y’won’t love me...if m’not successful.”
“Harry,” she cooed. “Baby—”
“I know,” he turned into her hand and kissed the center of her palm. “But I... I only met y’because m’successful. If m’not... then...”
“You know I don’t love you because you have money, right? We’ve been over this.”
“I know,” he nodded. “Really, I do. But s’like...there’s something in m’brain, kitten. I can’t turn it off and m’exhausted. After all that... I mean... y’saw. It was reallybad. Like really bad. M’still kind of worried and—what are you doing?”
“Turning your brain off,” she smiled, full of mischief once more as she slunk down to her knees. She wiggled into the space of his desk where he normally pushed his chair in. “Surely you’ve thought about this?” She asked, her hand sliding up his thigh.
Harry was suddenly illiterate. And mute. What was she talking about? Were they talking about something? The only thing he could hear was his uneven breath and the clinking sound of his belt and zipper. “Oh,” he groaned as her lips mouthed at the outline of his dick against his briefs.
“Cause I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
“You have?” He murmured dumbly.
She nodded, looking up at him from between his legs, crammed under his desk. It was a fantasy he hadn’t even imagined before thirty seconds prior and there she was: making it come true. Her lashes seemed so long, and her hand was massaging him through his underwear. His heart was pounding. All thoughts of negative numbers were gone.
She deserved a raise.
Her fingers hooked around his underwear, and she tugged on them, pulling him free. He didn’t even realize he was straining against the fabric. Within seconds her lips enveloped around him, and she sucked quickly. Hard. Everything was warm and wet instantly.
Harry had done this before with the companions he had found on the very website he found her, but he wished he never had because this was her. She was so perfect. She was everything he wanted. She was beneath his desk making him feel important and it was so ridiculous for him to feel that way but it worked. It was working.
Her mouth was meant to be around him. At least that was the way it felt. It never felt like this. She didn’t even care about herself. Which was fine because Harry would return whatever she gave him now plus interest. For the first time in a year, he felt utterly relaxed. Her head bobbing up and down the length of him. He put a hand on the back of her head, and she moaned softly sending a vibration through him and up to his chest. His cheeks felt hot. Not that he was embarrassed. But it was so much rapid blood flow. Everywhere. He was going to lose his mind.
There was a knock on the door.
She froze but didn’t remove her mouth from him. Harry grumbled a curse under his breath, carefully tucked himself further the edge of his desk without bumping her too much or crushing her. “Yeah?” He called tentatively.
Her lips focused on the tip of him making him struggle to maintain his composure.
“She’s not here?” Niall frowned from the doorway.
Harry shook his head staring at the screen trying not to let his best friend know that his girlfriend and Niall’s very favorite coworker was crammed beneath his desk and sucking him for all he was worth. Even though Niall was right there. “Ran an errand,” her tongue slid down the underside of him silently. He cleared his throat, shifted. Hoping she wouldn’t torture him in front of his best friend. When did she get so brave?
Oh. Traditional. That’s what that meant. Harry thought to himself.
“When she gets back can you ask her where the file from yesterday’s meeting is? I don’t want to mess with her organizational system,” she dug her nails into his thigh not very hard but so her presence was known. As if the thought of Niall messing with her system really was the worst thing he could do in that moment.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” Harry chuckled. But the movement made him shift in her mouth which nearly sent him cross-eyed. He cleared his throat again.
“You okay? She’s been worried about you.”
“M’fine,” he rolled his eyes.
She silently sucked harder as if to prove a point. Moved him further down her throat. Harry took a deep breath to maintain any semblance of control he had left over the situation. Which was very little.
“I like that she worries about you.”
“It’s unnecessary,” Harry muttered. To both of them.
“When are you going to marry her?” Niall asked.
That paused her. She released him, peered up through those sinful lashes and smiled more mischievously than he had ever seen. Harry shifted. Silently and blindly lining himself up with her mouth again to keep her from saying I knew it or just generally giving herself away in front of Niall. She obligingly took his length down her throat again and it was a miracle she didn’t make a sound with the amount of spit lodged in her mouth. “Soon,” he assured Niall.
“She left her cell in the office,” he said. “Hopefully she’s with the driver or something.”
“Yeah, I called for him,” he wanted Niall out. “What time are we teeing off tomorrow?” He asked the last bout of normalcy he had left in him. Her lips were dragging so slowly over him it felt nearly painful. The moment Niall left he was going to come.
“Nine fifteen.”
He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be by later for the new account model for—” He coughed as her fingers danced along the inside of his thighs, reaching for the space of his cock that didn’t fit in her mouth as well as underneath— “Excuse me,” he covered his mouth over the fake cough before dropping his hand to his lap—her head—and pushed ever so slightly toward the back of her throat. Fortunately, his phone rang. Niall nodded waving him off; allowing him to tend to his phone call—that he was not going to answer.
“I got it,” he assured him and closed the door.
Harry yanked from her mouth, shoved from the desk, barely pulling his pants up at all. He hurried across his office to twist the lock on his door. Once turned around, she was already there, knelt before him again and sucking him into her warm mouth again. Sucking hard. It was probably loud. Wet. Anyone that happened to be by his door at that moment would know what was happening on the other side. Maybe they would make a rumor. Maybe they would assume it was her—neither of which Harry wanted. “Not here, kitten,” he groaned quietly and lifted her begrudgingly from her knees. He pulled her toward the bathroom. He briefly thought of the first time he was in there with her, knelt himself, to take her shoe off and Louis and Eleanor assumed he was prepared to do something he loved doing to her and strongly considered doing it again. Just as he lifted her bum onto the counter she stopped him.
“Nope,” she slid down again. Knelt once more. “Said it was turning your brain off,” she reminded him. Her lips around his dick once again. Now, with an office separating them from the rest of the company, she openly slurped. Made obscene noises that would satisfy him just fine on business trips where he didn’t get to take her with him and leave him with nothing but fantasies before falling asleep in a lonely hotel room. He slammed the bathroom door shut just for further privacy.
He groaned lowly, meeting the bob of her head as gently as he could so as not to cause her to struggle but enjoying the warmth of her mouth and throat. Her lips looked so sexy around him he wasn’t going to last much longer at all. “Love,” he tilted his head back. “Y’need to—”
“Shh,” she pulled back, pressing the most chaste of kisses along his length which was an oxymoron. “Just worry about you,” she hummed. “Please?”
Harry groaned his hands gathering her hair at the back of her head as she slipped her mouth down as much of him as she could take and it felt so good it made him
“Aw fuck, kitten, s’good,” he groaned and held her in place as he released in her mouth. His breath was ragged, his hips stuttering slightly. She continued sucking even though it was sensitive. Even though it was more than he deserved.
“Do you really think I would stop loving you because you didn’t have money?” She asked, fluttering her lashes. Voice the slightest bit hoarser.
He lifted her from her knees, putting her on the counter again and shoved her dress up to her hips. Thank God she wore a dress. “This underwear is ripped,” he grumbled.
She frowned. “It is? It’s my favorite I didn’t notice a rip when I put them on this mor—”
But she didn’t realize he was predicting the future. He pulled on the nylon cotton blend with so much force her already hoarse voice died in her throat. He groaned, tossing them on the floor. He lined himself up with her entrance and brought her bum to the edge so the sharp corner dug into her flesh. It would leave a bruise and the only thought that was left in her head was that Harry would kiss it and make it better later.
His length slid inside her so effortlessly. She should have been embarrassed how turned on she was sucking him off—especially when Niall got to the office but she couldn’t help it. Now the length that had felt so good in her throat was making her core ache. He thrusted into her quickly. Hardly letting her breathe or realize what was happening, but it felt so good. She was moaning into the curve of shoulder. Clinging to him. “Baby, I—”
“S’good kitten. S’good. I love you so fucking much,” his hips were relentless. All thought escaping her mind. A fire could have broken out in the shower and she wouldn’t have moved—couldn’t have moved.
“Oh wow,” she sighed as Harry pulled her closer to him—her legs wound around his waist. Her butt barely on the counter. Her eyes fluttered with each thrust. “Oh, oh my God,” she moaned. “You’re—”
“Gonna come on m’cock, kitten,” it was a question. Or a command. She didn’t know. It was both. Neither. Part of her wondered if he even said anything.
But she did. She did come on his cock. Hard. She fluttered around him for what felt like minutes. Hours. Centuries. Color ceased to have meaning. There was no sound. That was heaven. She was sure. A blasphemous thought that she didn’t even have the strength to laugh about because she was deliriously good.
Her voice was hoarser than only moments before. Her face tucked into his shoulder and her breath shaky as he pushed her further back toward the mirror at the end of the counter behind the sink. Further from him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she could only imagine what he had done to her hair. But his pupils were massive. His lips pinker than ever. His chest heaved.
Clearing her throat, she gently tucked him back into his pants. Then tucked in his shirt too. With the same delicateness as she did with his cock. It was intoxicating. Made him want to go another thousand rounds with her. “So, in conclusion,” she whispered. “I will love you whether you have a kajillion dollars or one dollar,” she looked up at him, cheeks burning.
“That was very sexy, kitten,” his eyelids practically fluttered.
“I...” she cleared her throat. “I surprised myself, actually.”
“We should do this more often,” he pulled her skirt down and brought her closer to the edge of the counter again. She hissed at the contact against the bruise that was definitely forming. He frowned. “Oh, love m’sorry,” he cupped her face and gazed at her. “Was I too rough? I shouldn’t have—”
“Harry, if I didn’t fear for the stability of my leg muscles I would probably bend over your desk for you.” He swore under his breath. “You did bruise my butt though.”
“No good deed,” he mumbled and lifted her gently from the counter. His hand cupping her backside and gently rubbing each cheek as if it were normal. But it felt normal.
She nuzzled into his chest and sighed contentedly. “Niall’s going to see right through me,” she murmured.
“I’ll fire him again if he makes y’uncomfortable.”
She snorted and laughed, tilting her head up to look at him. “You are my favorite person Harry Styles. I love you so much. Even if you ruined my favorite pair of underwear.”
He smiled as mischievously as she had earlier in the day. “I’ll buy you more...a hundred pairs of them. Then I’ll ruin them all again,” he promised, then pressed his mouth firmly against hers. A gentle, soft kiss in comparison to all they did in the span of half an hour. “I love you too.”
She grinned. “Say it again.”
He shook his head at her, kissed her forehead, effectively turning her to mush, which was probably his plan so she couldn’t deny his next request. “Stop calling our coffee break a meeting.”
But her senses were returning. The ones that weren’t primal and horny about how massive Harry’s dick was in her mouth. She was going to say something funny; he could see it in the glint in her eye. “Well, I can’t put ‘sex’ on your calendar now can I?”
--
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hi! What about a fic if one of the Mauraders or TASM peter with a reader who's insecure about her big boobs? Like ik everyone thinks it's ideal but honestly sometimes it really sucks when shirts don't fit right or everything looks slutty or u can't go braless or alternatively a fic about their gf overhearing someone say they r an ass man but she has a small butt?
Thank you for requesting!
cw: insecurity around breast size
tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
You’re looking in the mirror, and you want to feel good about yourself. Really, everything looks the way it should. Your hair looks better than it would on an average day, that new eyeshadow thing you tried actually turned out nicely, and your dress fits the way it’s supposed to.
Just, the way it’s supposed to fit doesn’t really seem right to you at the moment.
“Peter,” you call in the direction of the bathroom, “if I ask you about something, can you promise to be honest with me?”
You hear water splash in the shower, signaling your boyfriend is finally rinsing out his hair. In classic Peter fashion, he seems like he’s going to be late to his own banquet. Oscorp is having a formal event to recognize the achievements of their scientists this year. Peter’s done even more than most, and he’s expected to give a speech before the food comes out which you’ll be lucky to make at this rate. You were supposed to get ready together, but he’d spent the majority of the time flirting with you while you did your makeup in your pajamas.
“Duh, I’m always honest,” he calls back. The shower shuts off. “That’s why they call me your friendly, honest, neighborhood spider-man.” A pause. You wonder if he can sense the dry look you’re sending his way. “Fine, but I’m always honest with you. Shoot, sweetheart.”
“Okay.” You give yourself one final, disappointed look-over in the mirror before heading towards the bathroom door. “I’m serious, don’t sugarcoat anything, but do you think—”
The door swings open, and Peter’s right in front of you, beads of water still visible on his torso and a towel wrapped around his waist.
“—this is too slutty?” you finish, quieter, right as he blurts, “Oh my god.”
Peter blinks. His head does a tiny shake, as if trying to rid himself of a dizzy spell. “What?” he asks.
Probably not your best phrasing. “I just mean, is it too booby,” you try again. You have the urge to tuck your arms around your middle self-consciously, but you worry that would only make the boob predicament worse.
“Baby.” Peter’s still looking at you like you’re speaking another language. “What?”
You look down at your highly visible cleavage, then back up at him. “You know what I mean,” you say softly.
“Okay, speaking from a strictly male standpoint,” Peter says, unabashed as his eyes dip to where yours just where, “I can’t condone the idea that there is such a thing as too booby. But even if I was, like, a ninety-five year old conservative woman, I couldn’t—I would still think you look beautiful.”
Your heart balloons. It’s not a compliment you got much before you met Peter. Hot, sexy, sure, but not beautiful.
“God.” The word slips from your boyfriend’s mouth so softly it almost sounds like a prayer. His hands find your waist, skimming down the satiny material of your dress to rest on your hips. “You’re amazing, sweetheart. Is that the eyeshadow trick you were talking about?”
You nod, cheeks burning. “You watched me do it.”
“It looks different with the dress on,” he agrees. “Fuck. Not to be corny, but you’re seriously taking my breath away. I can’t breathe right now.”
A little laugh stutters out of you, and Peter smiles. He’s looking rather breathtaking himself, fresh-faced from the shower with a piece of damp hair still clinging to his forehead. You unstick it and comb it back in with the others already fluffed up after being toweled off. He smells like his shampoo.
“Can I kiss you,” he asks, “or will I mess up your makeup?”
“Be careful,” you warn, smiling as you lean in.
He is, but his hands give away his hunger, bunching in the fabric at the base of your spine to get you closer. He makes a low, needy sound in the back of his throat, and for half a second you wonder if it’s for your benefit but then you remember that he was right earlier. Peter is always honest with you.
You laugh when you pull away, going to get a bit of tissue paper to blot away the lipstick you’ve left on him. A glance in the bathroom mirror shows that yours is, thankfully, intact.
“Are you sure this dress will be appropriate?” you ask, less insecure now but still nervous as you wipe at Peter’s upper lip. “Regardless of how much you like it, it’s still a formal thing and I don’t want to be…indecent.” You cringe. There’s no word that sounds nice.
Your boyfriend’s brows furrow. His hands skim up your arms, and he looks like he’s about to reply when you fold the toilet paper and stick it between his lips. “Blot,” you murmur.
He does. “Baby.” He squeezes your upper arms, a silent request for you to look up at his eyes. You find them soft and earnest. “There’s nothing inappropriate about what you’re wearing. It is a formal thing, and you’re wearing a formal dress. You look beautiful.” That word again. Your cheeks burn. Peter kisses one of them. “No one is going to have anything to say about how you look other than how beautiful you are,” he promises.
You let the sincerity of his words seep into you, pooling like a warm drink in your belly. The inside of your lip finds its way between your teeth. Now you’re feeling bashful for other reasons.
It’s obvious by Peter’s grin that he can tell. He gives your arms another squeeze before moving you out of the way and going to where his clothes are laid out on the bed.
“Actually, that’s pretty convenient for me.” He discards the towel on the floor, slipping on a pair of boxers and then starting to button up his dress shirt. “You’ve just taken a whole bunch of pressure off my speech, sweetheart. No way anyone’s gonna be looking at me while I’m up there.”
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Summary: Reader goes on a run with a few of the others but they end up getting blindsided by another group, reader and Rosita take the most damage.
Warnings: strong language, twd apocalypse setting, not-so-secret feelings between reader and Daryl but nothing is official right away, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fighting, reader gets injured and needs stitches, reader giving and receiving punches, kicks, etc. mentions of blood, cuts, weapons such as knives and guns, heavy mentions of killing (FAKE OF COURSE!!), a kiss or two, maybe three if you’re lucky ;)
Word count: 5.8k
“Y/n. You comin’ or what!?” Rosita yells over to you, “or are you too bus-“
“I’m comin’, alright!” You yell back, cutting her off, and all she does is smile.
You look away from the group, cheeks turning red as you look up at Daryl. His head tilts to the side as he looks at you confused, “What’s she mean by busy?”
You shake your head, “Nothing just.. girl talk.”
Daryl scoffs, shaking his head, “Good luck out there.”
“You sure you can’t come?” You bat your lashes, which definitely does something to him, but he just shakes his head, “Y’know I would if I could.”
He reaches up to pinch your chin between his fingers, “Be fuckin’ careful out there, a’right.”
You give him a smile, “I always try my best.”
He hums lowly as he watches you walk away, keeping his eye on you until you and the group were out of the gate.
If Daryl didn’t have a prior commitment to help Aaron with the one wall, he would definitely be going with you.
“Try and convince him to come along again?” Rosita asks as you walk with her. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh, “Can you give me a break?”
Rosita is your best friend, has been since you saved her life. She had six walkers on her, you were moving by and decided to stop and help her and she instantly liked you, so away to hilltop you went.
One night later on, when you both were giggly off some liquor you found, you admitted to her that you had a thing for The Archer in your group - Daryl Dixon.
Which, you and him also did end up taking a liking to one another. It only took one look from each of you and that was enough to not keep each other off your minds.
“I think it’s really cute.” She glances over at you, “Seeing you guys in looove.”
“Please. He is not in looove.” You scoff, a laugh following right after, “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“You guys talking about you and Daryl?” Michonne elbows you and you sigh, “Not you, too!” You groan, “Oh my god.”
“I think it’s cute, too. Never really seen Daryl look at someone the way he looks at you, and I’ve known him a while.” Michonne raises her brows and you just shake your head.
Someone even mentioning his name has your cheeks turning a rosy color.
“You know it’s true.” Rosita adds, “C’mon y/n. Just take a chance already.”
“I’ll think about it and get back to you.” You laugh, everything becoming serious when Rick holds his hand up, signaling to stop.
“Walkers?” Michonne asks, moving closer to Rick, and he nods, “About seven or eight? Some might be in the side tree line.” He looks back at the group, “I think we can take ’em.”
You nod, getting your knife gripped in your hand before you continue to walk down and take out the small group of the dead.
——
About an hour later, you come to the few houses at the end of the one road, “Wait.” You grab onto Rosita’s arm, “I don’t think we’re the only ones here.”
Rick snaps his head towards you, “What do you mean by that?”
“Something just fe-“
Bullets. Lots of them flying your group’s way.
“Get down!” Rick yells as you all duck behind old cars and trees. You get your gun ready, along with everyone else and aim, looking through the sight to see if you can see anything.
As soon as you see a body you fire, which leads everyone else into shooting blindly in the direction of where gunfire came from first.
“We move on three. You two go that way.” Rick points to you and Rosita and motions towards the houses, “You two go that way.” He motions for Carl and Michonne to go the opposite.
“I-“
“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.” A voice from behind and the sound of a shotgun loading makes you all whip around.
Six men coming to form an arch around her.
“Who are you?” Rosita asks and the woman with the gun laughs, “Hell, I should be asking you all the same. Damn. Thing.”
“Wait.” She squints her eyes at you and points, “You. I’ve seen you.. with that long haired, crossbow wielding, psycho.”
You clench your jaw, tilting your head slightly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” The lady with the gun tilts her head, “I think you heard me. I don’t really like repeating myself.”
“What do you want?” Rick asks, ready to negotiate, “We didn’t come to cause any trouble we-“
“I don’t fucking care about your bullshit we need supplies sob story, although.” She purses her lips, eyes scanning over your backpacks and weapons, “It really doesn’t look like you have a sob story at all, so I’ll just go ahead and let these men pick you off one. By. O-“
“We will give you our guns and walk away.” You say with a shrug, “How about that?”
She hums, gun now pointed at your chest, “How about… no.. and instead, we bring you inside and try to find out a little bit about you mysterious, pathetic looking people.” She looks at all of you again, “And where you came from.”
“No. We’re not-“ Rosita is cut off by the woman pointing the gun at her, “Was I talking to you?”
“Well, you said, you mysterious people, so I’m guessing I was included in that, too?” Rosita fires, sarcasm on her words.
The lady just sighs, “You made it so easy to pick who the first one is going to be.”
She steps closer to Rosita and you all move a step closer, too, “I’m just sayin’, you mess with one of us. You mess with all of us.”
You stare at the woman, a cold stare, “Put the gun down, and we’ll fucking talk.”
“We can talk this out. If you just let us explain why we’re here.” Rick steps up and the gun is now on Rick before it’s lowered to the ground, “Who’s in charge here?”
You all motion to Rick and he nods. The lady raises a brow, smirking as her eyes fall onto you, “Really? Because it seems like she’s running the show.”
“Walk.” The woman points towards the one house, “Now. Before I change my mind about killing you where you stand.”
You all move in a line and her men take your stuff.
Guns, knives, backpacks. Everything.
You were racking your brain for a way to get out of this, just like the others were.
“I have to pee.” You blurt out, instantly going with it, “Can I use the bathroom, or a tree, or something?” You cross your leg over your other one to make it more believable.
The woman looks you up and down, rolling her eyes as she motions to you, “Take her around back. Bring her in when you’re done.”
The man grabs you by the arm and pulls you, “Wait, I-“
“I have to pee, too.” Rosita does exactly what you did and the woman looks between you and her and squints, “If this is some kind of a ruse to escape, I swear, I’ll keep the kid hostage until I find you again, and then.. I’ll make him watch you all die a slow and extremely painful death.”
“No.” Rick and Michonne says instantly, “You can trust them.” Michonne assures the woman, but she didn’t believe it.
“I don’t trust you.” She shakes her head, “Do what you want, but just know, I warned you.”
You try not to laugh at the stupid woman as you and Rosita are walked back to behind the one house, with only two guards.
You share one glance with her, and that’s all it took for her to be on the same page as you.
You both turn around to face the men, giving them both the stink eye as you squat down. You bring your thumbs up to connect them to your belt loops.
“Are you going to piss or wh-“
You and Rosita lunge forward, knocking them both back onto their backs by the knees with a grunt.
You’re in fight or flight mode, and you weren’t going anywhere, not without a major fight.
“Fuckin bitch, get-“ you stomp the heel of your boot on his wrist and he yells, letting go of his gun. You go to try and kick it away, but he manages to get you on the ground and his hands quickly moving to go around your throat.
You grab his wrists, trying to pry his hands away as painful whimpers and squeaks are forced out of you.
He brings one of his hands back, quickly delivering a punch to your cheek bone. You’re dazed instantly as the punch jarred everything in your skull.
He delivers another punch, this time harder, which busts your cheek open.
As your vision is turning darker by the second, you try your best to kick him anywhere you can connect at. A sudden wave of panic sets in as your vision is almost totally back now, causing you to fling your legs up, your ankles on the opposite sides of his head.
You straighten your legs out to tighten them, pushing his arms together as you bring your knees in. He starts to lean backwards, and it’s just enough for you to bring you foot back, kicking him directly in the face.
He falls backwards off of you, his hands instantly moving to feel the blood that’s gushing from his nose, or mouth, hard to tell.
You go straight for the knife, lunging over to grab it before whipping around to stab him.
His hand catches your wrist, pushing your arm away from him as you try your damdest to keep pushing down. You groan loudly, smashing your knee into his groin area, which gives you the opportunity to push down and plunge the knife, handle deep into his throat.
You look over at Rosita as quiet choking fills your ears. You’re still dazed, in pain and your breathing just as rapid as hers.
She stands up, and you notice she’s got a decent cut on her forehead, “You good?”
She looks back at you, eyes going wide, “Holy shit, y/n.” She rushes over to look at your cheek, “That looks.. bad.”
“M’fine. We don’t have time.”
You stand up, looking down at the corpse with the knife in its neck. You bend down, pulling it out with a squelching noise as it comes out.
As you both gather up the weapons and supplies as quickly as you can, you flick off the bodies lying on the ground and Rosita can’t help herself, “I see why Daryl likes you.”
“You’re still on that?” You ask quietly as you move with her to the back of the house, looking around to make sure no one is coming to investigate.
“Honey, I’ll be on that until you’re on him, okay.”
“Oh my god. Okay, I promise, I’ll make it clear to Daryl, but only if we get out of here with everyone alive.”
“I swear to god if-“
“On your knees! Now!” One of the two guards starting to run towards you yells, but it was only a split second later that you were being shot at, again.
You and Rosita book it around the building, stopping her once you see the woman come out of the house with another guard.
Rosita leans around, firing a shot right into the one guards head, but the other one is still back there somewhere.
You go to pull your gun up and you hear your name being yelled.
“Y/n!” She’s pulled back and slammed against the old garage door, falling to the ground with a groan. You turn your gun on the guy who threw her, “Step the fuck back or I wi-“
He smacks the gun up in the air, it fires one time before the man kicks you in the torso, causing you to fly back onto the concrete, “Fuck.”
The man kicks your gun before moving to stand over you and your hands desperately search for something sharp or hard enough to crack his skull open with as you kick to keep him back.
Rosita jumps on his back, yelling as she tries to choke him out.
You scramble to pick up a rock you felt, and as he flings Rosita off, he quickly bends down to try and grab the collar of your jacket, you quickly slam the rock into his temple.
He stumbles back, groaning, and you get up as quick as you can, moving to grab your gun as you glance back at the porch.
One of the guards from
You turn to warn her, but the man you hit with a rock runs at you, slamming you into the brick wall, back first, before he grips your shoulder and neck and delivers another hard slam.
He does it again, this time throwing you away from him you roll across the dirt a few times and groan, coughing from the dust that your body stirred up on impact.
. He steps back, looking towards Rosita who is now standing up, gun in her hand. The guards cant even say or do anything before Rosita shoots both of them, back to back, not even giving them time to think about what they even wanted to say.
Which meant there was only one guard.. and the main bitchshow left.
And speak of the devil, Rosita points the gun to the door as the woman walks out first, Michonne, Rick and Carl all follow, and they have the final guard on their tail.
The woman comes down the steps, walking over to you and Rosita. Her eyes move over to examine the dead bodies of her people.
“There’s more outback, probably making their way up here right now.” Rosita says as she walks up next to you.
“Should have just listened, you now.. because now, I’m going to fucking kill you two in front of everybody.” The woman raises her gun and you scoff, “Go fuck yourself.”
You step towards her, “We never wanted this.”
“That’s funny..bbecause once you’re on my land, this is usually the only way it ever ends up.” The woman looks around, “Looks like we got more than the two out back.”
Walkers push their way through the trees and brush, moaning and groaning as they move towards where the gunshots and yelling has been coming from for the last half an hour.
You swing quick, hitting the gun out of her hand which catches her off guard, “Rosita. Go. I got this.”
She nods and grabs her weapons, making her way up to where Michonne and Rick had just taken out the last guard.
The woman goes to hit you but you grab her arm, jamming your knee into her ribs as she groans, catching your leg and body slamming you onto the ground.
You cough as she stands up, placing her boot on your chest, pressing down as you’re now looking at the shotgun from the bottom of the barrel up.
“If you kill me, you’ll have people after you.” You lay there, looking up at her as you wait a few seconds for your chance to swipe her legs out from under her with yours.
She falls to the ground with a grunt, trying to quickly get to her feet but you tackle her to the ground, instantly starting to wail on her.
“More walkers!” Carl yells loudly and you wrap your hands around the woman’s throat, “Kinda busy here, kid.”
“You got this?” Michonne asks as she looks down at the woman turning purple in your grasp, and you nod.
As soon as Michonne walks away, the woman brings her knee up, hitting you right in the middle of the back.
You tense up, “Fucking bitch!”
She leans up, head butting you in the nose and you fall back, with a quick and blurry glance around, you see walkers, at least twenty or so making their way in from the field.
She moves her body onto yours, straddling your thighs as her knees pin your hands down before she delivered a hard punch to your face, “You really think you can kill me? I’ve been doing this for years.”
“I’m gonna.” You spit blood at her, clenching your jaw as her hands tightens around you neck, “Maybe if I get you out of the picture, I can have that rugged lookin’ archer all to myself.”
“S-say one more fucking thing about him.” Your voice is strained from her grip, “I swe-“ you squeak as she squeezes, lifting your head up off the ground.
She leans in, “I bet he would make me feel so-“
Now you were pissed.
Everything in you felt like it was on fire, “Fuck you.” You manage get out before getting one of your hands free.
You reach up and grab as much of her hair you could get. She groans through gritted teeth as you pull her down with a hard yank, her body lifting to free your other hand.
You immediately try and deliver a punch, but she beats you to it. She cracks you over the mouth, the force busting your lip open again your teeth, and you instantly taste blood, lots of blood.
You grab her by her shirt collar, heaving yourself forward as far as you could go before throwing yourself backwards.
You’re able to get your leg under her, which helped you throws her body over yours.
You quickly move, getting into a standing position, just like her. Your chest rising and falling quickly, face swollen and broken.
More walkers keep coming, but you weren’t leaving this bitch alive.
“Give it up already.” She pulls a knife from her side holder and spins it around over her finger before gripping it.
You keep your stare on her, ready for whatever was about to come.
“Y/n! duck!”
You duck, watching as the knife she threw, land perfectly in the bitches chest. Michonne helps you up before going to take care of the walkers that are a little too close for comfort.
The woman falls to her knees, gasping as she sluggishly brings her hands up to the object protruding out of her chest.
You walk up, putting a hand on her shoulder as you grip the knife with your other hand, “Who are you?”
She smiles up at you, “Oh honey. I’m am only the start of what’s about to come.” Without another second, you twist the knife, pushing it in more before you push it upward.
The woman gasp, groaning in pain as you twist it again, ��Oh, and the crossbow wielding psycho, just happens to be the love of my life, and the people you pointed your guns at, are my family.”
“Family doesn’t mean shit.” The woman chokes on her blood, droplets splashing all over, “They just.. screw you over in the long run.”
“Not my family.” You stand up, getting ready to walk away when you fall, due to the slash to your thigh.
Your hand slaps over the open cut in your blood soaked jeans, crying out in pain, just hoping someone can stop bashing heads in enough to hear you.
You look over, quickly trying to push yourself over the broken concrete and stones to get closer to a knife that’s lying on the ground.
The woman moves over as fast as her knees could carry her, “It’s not over until one of us is dead.” She grabs your ankle, holding you from moving any closer.
As she moves up, she puts pressure on your wounded thigh with her knee, making you cry out in pain. You opened your eyes, watching as she brings the knife up,
It all happened so quick, right as her arms went up, you struck, gripping the the knife and plunging it into the side her skull, causing what little life she had left in her, to fully die out.
She falls over, revealing Michonne, who is looking at you, “I’d ask if you were alright, but..” she cringes in a joking manner as she moves down to hold pressure on your thigh. , “..you don’t look it.”
“What the fuck was that?” You ask, laying back on the ground, “I feel like none of that made sense.”
Rosita runs up, falling down as she digs through her bag for medical supplies, “Shit, all I have is gauze, and you need stitches, y/n.” She looks up at you, “Oh my god, your face.”
“Have you seen your face, yet?” You try to raise your brows but you just can’t, “You need em, too.”
Rosita nods, “I can feel that it’s bad.” She laughs slightly, “Alright, lift your leg so I can wrap it quick.” She sighs, “And then we can get the hell out of here..”
“You guys ok-“ Rick stops talking when he sees how beat up you and and Rosita actually are, “I’m so sorry.”
“Rick why are you apologizing?” Rosita asks as she glances up at him. You have your eyes screwed shut as you push through the stinging pain of Michonne holding pressure on your thigh.
“I brought us here I-“ Rick hakes his head and you look at Michonne, “Tell him it’s not his f-ah, fuck.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Rosita says in a mumble.
You look back to Michonne, “Please tell your man that this isn’t his fault. We’ll be okay. We’re the one who live, right?”
Michonne nods, a smile spreading across her face as she looks at Rick and Carl, “We are the ones who live.”
——
About two hours later, you finally reached home.
Your adrenaline has been keeping you going. That was until you seen Daryl’s face fall and him running over to you the second your past the gate.
“What the hell happened?” He yells, looking over the beaten and exhausted group as he goes right to you, “Y/n, hey. Ya still with me.” He cups your cheeks, tilting your head up and holding you with one hand as he snaps with his other.
“We were attacked, they’re dead. But..” Rick shakes his head and Daryl looks down at you as he feels your head move.
You slowly look up at him, a slight smirk on your lips, “I kicked ass, Dixon.”
That’s all you get out before you fall into him again.
“Whoa, hey, alright, alright.” He catches you, holding you up as he turns Rosita’s face to him. He looks at Maggie, nodding towards Rosita, “Take her to get help. I’ve got y/n.”
Daryl picks you up bridal style, carrying you over to the medical trailer. He kicks the door and Dr. Carson opens it, immediately rushing Daryl to bring you in.
You come to again, looking around as you try to figure out where you are exactly.
“Has she fallen asleep or passed out at all?” Carson asks as he moves with Daryl to look at you.
“yeah, yeah, uh..” Daryl’s mind is a mess right now, “..few minutes after they got back, then she collapsed on me right before I brought’er over.”
He lays you down on the table and you groan in pain, “S’okay. We’re gonna get you better.”
“Try and keep her talking.” Carson turns his attention to you, “Y/n, hi, it’s Dr. Carson, do you want any pain medication?”
You shake your head, whimpering at the pain setting in more and more, “No. no.”
“We have plenty, y/n. I sug-“
You cut Carson off in a snappy tone, “I said no.”
“Alright.. Do you know what happened, y/n?” He asks as he shines a light into your eyes, “Can you see me?”
You nod, groaning as you close your eyes again. He moves to get an IV ready while you mumble memories about the day you’ve just encountered. You try to move your leg but you forgot about your injury first a second.
You groan, “The fucking bitch in the woods.”
Daryl and the doctor look at each other then back to you.
“Hey.” You can feel Daryl lean in, interlocking his fingers with yours. You give it a weak squeeze and slowly turn your head towards him, wincing in pain. He lays a hand on your head gently, “None uh that shit, don’t be forcing yourself to look at me.” He shakes his head, trying to blink away the gloss coating in his eyes.
“But.. I like looking at you.” You smile slightly and Daryl sniffles, giving you a slight laugh, “I know whatcha mean, darlin’.”
You raise your hand up slowly, laying it on his cheek, “If.. i-f it makes you feel any better, I ki-lled her because she s-aid shit, shit.”
Your body starts tensing as Carson wipes the excess blood from your thigh. You whimper, returning your attention back to Daryl, “About you.”
He scoff, shaking his head slightly, “Me?”
“Said.” You grit your teeth, squeezing Daryl’s hand and the table below you, “You were a long.. haired.. c-crossbow wielding psycho, but.. but that was before I-I pissed her off.. enough to say some.. more dumb shit.”
Your words are almost a mumble, but Daryl focuses enough on you to understand what you’re saying, “what else she say?”
You shake your head, “I’ll tell… you later.. Where’s Rosita?”
“She’s with Maggie and Enid.” Daryl assures you, “She’s fine. Jus’like you’re gonna be.” He brings your hand up slowly and gently presses his lips to your turning purple knuckles.
“Y’sure you don’t want any pain meds, y/n?” Daryl asks, his words full of concern. You nod slightly, “I’m sure.”
You squeeze Daryl’s hand tight and he lays his other one on top of your hand. You arch your back slightly, “Fuck, Carson that hurts.”
“I know, I know but I have to clean it out.” Carson answers as he continues to work on your thigh.
“Tell me more about what happened, hm.” Daryl reaches in ever so gently as he moves hair from your face without trying to touch any bruised and swollen skin, but you didn’t care what he did, “Y’think you can tell me how you kicked ass?”
“Mhm.” You close your eyes and reopen them slowly, “We.. went, to that apa-apartment complex and a-ah..” you wince, “..As we were deciding on where to go, they came up behind us, held us at gun point while she ran her mouth.”
“They, who?” Daryl asks, “What did they say, what did they want?”
You work through telling Daryl about when those people first arrived behind you and what all happened in the woods.
“She thought you were the leader’n not Rick?” He smooths his free hand over your hair, “You did kick ass, huh.”
You smile, letting out a sigh, “I wanted to e-end her the-” You wince at the sting from the second round of the antiseptic on your leg, “Second I s-saw her stupid smug looking face.”
You tense up, groaning lowly as tears form in your eyes, “Um, she.. she wanted to know why we, we were on her land? Took our weapons, back..packs..” you let out a long breathe, “Said she had other questions?”
You go into telling him about how you and Rosita got alone and what you were able to do to kill the first two guards and how dumb the woman was because she were to only send two.
“They didn’t ..do nothing, right?” Daryl asks, tensing up as he let’s out a huff, “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em all.”
“They’re both dead, Daryl.” You whimper out, taking a deep breath, “They’re all dead. Rosita and I took care of them.”
“Wait, hold on a minute. Y’both took out.. how many guards yourselves exactly?” Daryl asks and you fight back a laugh, knowing it’ll hurt, “Five. Rick and Michonne got the.. last guard.”
“Alright, y/n, I’m going to ask you one last time.” Carson looks at you and you turn your head slowly, “No.”
“Alright. Sutures are going to be going in soon, okay? I’m going to need you to try and sit as still as you possibly can, do you think you can do that?”
“Like I have a choice to go anywhere.” You mumble, “Sorry i-“
“Nah, stop that.” Daryl shakes his head, “You’re in pain, we get it.” Daryl glances up at you, squinting his eyes as he leans in to look at your neck.
He lets out a low growl, “If there’s more. M’gonna find them ‘em. They’re fucking dead.” Daryl’s leg was bouncing up and down.
“Stop, stop, Daryl. I’m fin-.” You dig your nails into his hand as your back arches with the first stitch going through your skin.
Your eyes start to close then reopen as you try to keep yourself awake and talking to Daryl, but you cannot form any words right now.
“Hey, hey.” Daryl tries to comfort you but he doesn’t really know how, “Stay right here, darlin’.” He lays his hand on your head leaning in towards you more, “Don’t y’even think about leavin’ me.”
“I’m not..” you whisper out, “Going anywhere.”
You clench your bruised jaw, keeping your lips shut tight whenyou feel Carson do another suture, “The l-eader..” you groan, taking a deep breath, “..said that-that this is just.. the beginning.. I don’t..”
Carson squeezes a little bit harder and you are forcing yourself not to kick him in the face, “Fuck I want to kill you now, too.”
He shrugs it off, knowing that it’s just the pain and anger talking. He just shakes his head as he keeps his eyes on his work.
Daryl lays his hand on the lesser bruised side of your face, “Y’don’t gotta keep talking, if ya don’t want to.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “You’re doing so good, almost done, baby.”
You can’t lie, your heart absolutely fluttered out of your body with his words, “I-I got..” you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the final two sutures go in, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when Carson steps back, “Thigh is done, now let me have a look at that cheek.”
You turn your head, following commands from Carson all while Daryl still holds your hands.
He hates that you’re going through this, he’s kicking his own ass over not just going with you like you asked.
He blames himself, and you knew that, too.
Two hours has gone by, Carson said you could sleep so that’s what you did.
You opened your eyes, looking around to see that you’re in an actual bedroom and not the medical trailer anymore.
You try to sit up, just as Daryl comes back into the room, “Thought you would have been out longer, m’sorry.”
“Don’t do that.” You say soft as you look up at him. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Do what?”
He’s avoiding eye contact with you, that’s how you know something’s up.
“Can you help me sit up?”
Daryl is right there, sliding a hand on your back as you hold onto his other one to sit up.
“Good?” He asks, “How’s your pain?”
“I’m not taking any meds.” You argue and Daryl chuckles slightly, “Why are you are so stubborn sometimes.”
“Says you.” You smile up at him, shaking your head, “I just… I didn’t want to be taking it away from someone who needed it more than me, I-“
“Y’needed it though, baby. Somethin’ could’a-“ He stops for a second, “why ya lookin’ at me like that?”
You shake your head, a small smile resting on your lips, “What meds did I get?”
He sighs, “Look, I had Carson give ya antibiotics, a’right, but thats it.”
You nod, “Thank you.”
He looks up at you confused, “Y’not mad at me?”
“Mad at you for, what? Caring about me?” You shake your head, “I don’t think I could ever be mad at anyone who tries anything they can to keep me in their life.”
Daryl looks up at you, nodding as his eyes scan over you purple and stitched up cheek and your voice is low, “Could’ve happened to anyone.”
“But It happened to you.” Daryl stands up, walking over to the window before you can grab his arm, “Daryl.”
He keeps looking out and you sigh, “Don’t make me get up.”
He turns slightly, sighing before making his way back over to you, because he knows you’d try, “Don’t y’even think ‘bout it.”
“Look at me then.” You reach out, moving your finger slightly. His hand immediately finds yours and you can hear him trying not to get upset.
You give his hand a squeeze, “Hey.”
He leans over, careful not to put pressure on your hurt thigh. His arms wrap around you, holding you as you close your eyes.
You hand moves up and down his back, squeezing him tighter when you feel his body jolt slightly with a sniffle, “Daryl.” Your voice is just enough for him to hear, “it’s not your fault.”
You feel him nod, but he still doesn’t let go, “jus’don’t wanna loose ya.” He mumbles into your neck, laying his hand on the back of your head, “I like ya, a lot actually.”
“I told Rosita the same thing about you.”
He lifts his head, leaning back as he wipes his cheeks on the back of his gloved hand, “Been goin’ on t’me bout you, too.”
“That’s no surprise.” You laugh slightly, closing your eyes at the pain, “I’m good.” You look at him, knowing that he hates seeing you in pain, “I promise I’ll ask for medicine if it gets worse.”
Daryl goes to say something, but you cut him off, “Just shut up and kiss me.”
He rubs his thumb over his fingers, giving you a slight shrug and nod, “If y’want that,”
You tilt your head, reaching your hand out to him, “I want you.”
He smirks, laughing slightly as he shakes his head, “You’re gonna be the death’a me.” He leans over, hand moving up to rest on your neck.
You lean in, closing the space between you as your hands move up to cup his cheeks.
“You know you called me baby a few times.”
Daryl laughs softly, “I know.”
There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens, “Y/n?”
Daryl leans in, pecking your lips a few times before he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, “M’gonna go talk to Rick, ya good?”
You nod, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “More than good.” You smile and he kisses you a few more times before he stands up.
Rosita is standing there, arms crossed as she watches Daryl with a smile, “See, what did I say?”
He just shakes his head, a small on his face as he looks up at her, “You doin’ a’right?”
She nods, “I’m good.” You watch as Rosita comes over to sit next to you on the bed, “We’re good. Now, go.” She laughs slightly as she waves her hand, “We have things to talk about.”
——
Let me know what you think! I truly love each and every one of you. Thank you so much for reading! 🖤
Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
#samandcolby-ownme#the walking dead#Daryl Dixon#Daryl Dixon x reader#Daryl Dixon one shot#daryl dixon one shots#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon oneshot#daryl dixon oneshots#daryl dixion imagine#twd daryl dixon#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon x you#daryl x you#daryl x reader#daryl imagines#twd#twd fanfiction#twd fanfic#Daryl Dixon fanfiction#Daryl Dixon fanfic#the walking dead one shots#the walking dead fanfictions#Daryl Dixon one shot fluff
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What if in the big first disaster mini-arc of season 8, Tommy's helicopter crashes close to where the 118 are. Gerrard decides that the helicopter, and everyone that is in it, is a lost cause and that they shouldn't be wasting resources or his team trying to help anyone out of the crash. What if the entire team mutinies to go find Tommy, his team, his helicopter, and the patients he was transporting?
What if the people in the helicopter crash are scattered - some in the helicopter, some flung out of it? What if Tommy was one of the people flung out of the helicopter; lost and out of range?
What if the 118 manages to find the helicopter, only to see that Tommy is missing? But they have to secure the scene, they have to call for back up, they have to make sure everyone still in the helicopter is okay. But maybe Hen takes over the scene and tells Chimney and Buck to keep searching the woods for other survivors.
And Buck feels guilty that he's relieved that Hen chose him to go sift through the woods of this mountain for other survivors, but there's really no time to think about that. There's no time at all.
Lives are on the line.
Tommy is out there.
And in the woods, Tommy is hurt. He's hurt, but he can hear someone calling for help. So, he moves despite knowing full well that might be bad for him. He moves because he's a first responder and will always try to help someone in need. And he finds one of his patients worse off than before. And he feels guilt that due to bad weather conditions and how the fire in the woods traveled (did I not say there was a fire? There's a fire and it's threatening to reach their side of the mountain at any moment), he lost control of the helicopter (and I would like to think there would be another twist too, like the 118 find something was already messed up with the helicopter to begin with, so it was a miracle that Tommy could even fly it at all).
But Tommy could do this.
He could save this one person.
So, Tommy's doing his best. He's working through his own pain as he puts a splint on this person's leg, as he pops this person's dislocated arm back in, as he makes the split decision to burn a cut closed because he doesn't have the supplies and that was the best he could do without the person bleeding out during a hike. And he makes a fucking board out of low branches he rips off trees. And, damn it, he knows his radio is basically busted, but he tries for help, only getting broken static back.
But he is going through.
He just can't hear the other end.
But his words are getting through the radio - they're reaching Buck. And Buck is desperately trying to answer back, he's trying to far longer than he should, he should have realized the first four tries that Tommy can't here him.
But he knows which direction Tommy is going. Because he and Tommy hiked up this mountain before. Buck knows which trail Tommy is trying to get to, so it's a race against time - will Buck and Chimney get to Tommy and the patient before the fire gets to them?
And the answer is that they get there just as the fire does. Nipping at Tommy's heels, but it ends up being stopped by a water drop just in time. Tommy is stunned when he sees Chimney and Evan, he's truly stunned.
He didn't think anyone heard him.
He didn't think they were going to be found in time.
And Buck calls it in, asks for backup, asks for help. Chimney checks on the person Tommy did first aid on.
And Tommy.
And Buck.
They run to each other.
They collapse into each other's arms. Exhausted and running on adrenaline alone. And they're checking if the other is okay - both are very worse for wear. And things seem okay as they wait for help to get to them. Things are going great for Hen too, she successfully saves everyone else in the helicopter crash with Eddie and Ravi's help.
But then.
A tree nearby is unstable.
Tommy sees it just in time.
And Tommy pushes Chimney out of the way, only to be caught under the tree.
And this is bad.
Back breaking bad.
Body crushing bad.
Buck tries not to panic, but it's clear this has shaken him. Chimney is doing his best and is calling for more help.
Help gets there, help finally gets there. And they manage to pull the tree off Tommy. Buck rides with Tommy to the hospital, holding his hand. He paces, distressed, as he waits for the longest surgery in his life.
And Tommy? Tommy should make it. But he's out, he's been put into a medically induced a coma as he heals. And at first, that's okay. Buck can be there. He can make sure Tommy's warm. He can hold Tommy's hand and read to him, and sleep in a rolled in bed.
Until that stops.
Mysteriously, he's not allowed into Tommy's room.
He's not allowed any information.
He's not Tommy's family.
And Tommy's parents are, somehow, technically still Tommy's next of kin - they're in charge of his medical treatment. They're in charge of who sees him.
Buck tries to explain who he is.
They reject the very idea of it.
And it's devastating. Buck didn't think about this. He didn't know this could happen. Tommy hadn't spoken to his parents in over twenty years, yet they're just allowed to come and do this to him.
Buck doesn't know what to do. He can't eat. He can't sleep. People have to force him to do anything for himself as he wonders how Tommy's parents are treating him.
Are they reading to him? Are they spending time with him? Are they making sure he's warm? Are they doing anything at all? Is this all for spite?
Somehow, other people are allowed to visit.
Just not Buck.
Buck is blacklisted.
Eddie is allowed; Christopher too. Chimney, somehow; probably because Tommy had saved his life. Maddie, even. Hen isn't, they can tell something is queer about Hen. Ravi isn't either. Bobby was allowed at first, before he made a case to the Kinards to let Buck see Tommy and it went south.
But definitely not Buck.
And Buck? Buck is camped out in the waiting room. The waiting room he kissed Tommy in. He basically has grown a short beard in that waiting room, he hasn't been shaving.
And all Buck can ask when he sees Eddie or Chimney or Maddie is - how is he doing? Is he doing okay? Is his favorite blanket still on him? What did you talk to him about? What did you read him? How did he look?
And the nurses - they know Buck. They've known him for years. And some take pity on him one night, and let him at least near the room when the parents are gone.
And the parents file for a restraining order against Buck, but it was worth it just to see Tommy.
Tommy looked better than last time.
That was good.
That was what mattered.
And a few more days go by like that with Buck in the waiting room, unable to leave.
Until Tommy wakes up.
He wakes up.
He asks his parents to leave.
He asks for Evan.
And a band of nurses and maybe Chimney rush over and tell Buck the news.
And Buck is running.
Sprinting.
To get to Tommy's room.
He knows where it is.
He memorized where the room was.
And he sees Tommy awake.
And part of him hadn't realized that he wasn't sure if Tommy would wake up. That some little, horrible part of him thought that Tommy would never wake up and he would never see Tommy again.
Tommy makes a joke about how Evan looks like a caveman.
Buck laughs. And cries. And sobs as he rushes frantically over to Tommy and collapses into a hug.
Tommy holds Buck as best as he can in his state while mumbling fondly that Evan smells like a caveman too. Buck offers to go, get cleaned up, but Tommy holds onto him.
Asks Evan to stay.
Apologizes for his parents, that he hadn't expected them to come. That he is going to change his will as soon as he can.
And he just wants Evan there.
With him.
And Buck stays.
#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley#bucktommy fic#911 speculation#911 s8 speculation#hurt comfort#angst#tevan#kinley#kinkley#my fics#i guess this sort of became a fic lol whoops
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how did it end?
Summary: You were supposed to be happy seeing Emily, your girlfriend, back from the dead but instead you were consumed with rage that they made you live like she's dead for months. Now, you don't know how to navigate your grief, anger, confusion and betrayal.
Genre: (Heavy) angst
Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader
Warnings: just lots of anger and depression
Word count: 7K+
A/N:
I'm back with another (heavy) angst. Happy pride month, everyone! (Or in this case, happy wrath?)
All grammar and spelling mistakes are mine as I didn't have the energy to proofread. Enjoy the pain!
All likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!
Special shoutout and thanks to my friend @alexblakeisgay ! Thanks for believing I could write again. :)
AO3
The day after Ian Doyle was finally arrested, Hotch called for a team meeting.
“What’s this about?” You asked curiously, despite being annoyed that your visit to Emily’s grave was cut short.
Morgan only shrugged at you, no idea why any of you had been called.
“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team.” Hotch began. “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her. And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she’s well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”
Everyone was shocked by Hotch’s confession. Most especially you. You stood behind Morgan, unmoving. Your feet seemed to be glued to the tiles.
“She’s alive?” Garcia clarified with tears in her eyes.
Reid leaned forward in his chair. “But we buried her.” He mumbled, confusion and betrayal mixed in his expression.
“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.” Hotch said, arms folded. His eyes met yours but your brain couldn’t comprehend everything fast enough to react.
“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues!” Morgan furiously said.
Everyone’s attention directed to the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned your head and you understood why everyone, except Hotch and JJ, looked like they had just seen a ghost.
Your legs felt weak and your heart unsteady. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what’s in front of you.
Emily took a careful step towards you. You took a step back.
“Y/N, I -”
“No,” You shook your head both in disbelief and in anger. “No!” You turned your head to Hotch and JJ. “How could you do this? How could you do this to me! I trusted you, you son of a bitch!” Before you stopped to compose yourself and take a breath, your palm met Hotch’s face. Morgan and Penelope held you back.
“It’s okay. Don’t hold her back.” Hotch told the two agents. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I deserved that.”
You wanted to say he deserved more because you had more slaps and punches to give. But Emily held your arm in an attempt to stop you. You flinched at her touch.
“Don’t touch me!” You yelled at her. “S-stay away from me!”
“Alright, alright. I’ll stay away.” Emily was taken aback by the crack in your voice but she listened to you and backed away. Her heart sank to her stomach. She had never seen you this angry before.
“You stay away from me! I finally made peace with your death a week ago and I…” Your chest started to hurt, feeling like everything in the room was getting smaller and smaller and spinning. You ran towards the door and past the bullpen. You repeatedly pressed the elevator button but it couldn’t open fast enough.
Morgan ran after you. “Hey, hey. Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.” You answered in confusion, still pressing the button. “I need to get some air.”
“Let me drive you home.”
The elevator finally opened and Morgan entered with you. All the pain, rage, confusion and betrayal finally caught up with your brain and as soon as it did, the tears kept coming. Morgan held you in his arms as you cried your heart out.
—
You did not leave the house for five days. You did not call anyone, especially people you worked with. Your phone remained off; you didn’t even bother to charge it. Instead, you found comfort in the darkness of your own apartment.
You didn’t know what day or time it was when you heard a knock on your door. It won’t be the first guest that you ignored. Each of the team had tried to check on you these past days but you remained under the blanket, watching whatever was on the TV.
“Y/N, please, it’s me.”
As soon as you heard Emily’s voice, the boiling rage inside you got the best of your words again. “You’re not welcome here! You’re dead!” You screamed and tossed a mug against the door.
Outside, Emily took a deep breath. “You’re not ready to let me in. I get it. But please, I want you to listen and hear me out. Just give me a chance to say some things then I’ll leave.”
Whether in annoyance or actually wanting to hear Emily out, it wasn’t important now. Emily felt relieved when the door clicked and you opened the door. You sat back on the couch and Emily stood a bit far from you, knowing you weren’t comfortable with your space being invaded.
Emily took a minute to stare at your state. The entire apartment was in a chaotic mess. In just a few days, you lost a little weight. Your eyes that used to be full of color and life turned sad, blue and lifeless. Emily couldn’t stop the guilt creeping inside her. This was her fault. She did this to you.
“I have no idea what you’ve been through during all this time that I was gone … but I know I hurt you. I swear if I had the choice, I wouldn’t have made this one. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt the person I love the most.” Emily was choking on her tears as she spoke.
You finally looked at her with pure disdain and Emily had to swallow, scared of the daggers that would come out of your mouth. “Hurt? You think you hurt me?” You huffed an exasperated laugh. “I’ve been hurt way too many times. I dealt with all that. You - “ You pointed your finger towards Emily. “You have to invent another word for what you caused me.”
Emily nodded because it was a fair statement, albeit painful. She sighed. “I understand.” There was a long pause before Emily spoke again, her voice was breaking as she did. “You … you are and always will be the love of my life. I would have never willingly put you through this. You have to believe me.”
Your breath hitched. You avoided Emily’s gaze. “I would have understood, you know.” You whispered.
Emily nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. She knew you were right. You would have understood. You would have prioritized Emily’s safety still. If only she had the choice then, she would have fought for it, fought for you. The whole time she was in Paris, she contemplated jeopardizing everything just to call you, to hear your voice one more time.
“I’m so sorry. You are the most important person in my life and I love you.”
“You don’t do this to a person you claim to love.”
Emily felt like she was being stabbed over and over. Your words were twisting the knife in her heart. “You’re right. I cannot fix the months of pain I caused you but please … please let me try. You mean the world to me. You were the only thing that kept me going while I was away. I cannot lose you. I cannot live without you, Y/N.” Emily went down on her knees as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
“You did.” You replied coldly. “And the day you died, I died with you.”
Emily moved closer to you, slowly. She gently hugged you, burying her face into your shoulder, sobbing. She heard all the pain and grief in your voice; all the pain you went through because of her death.
“I don’t know what you can do to fix this,” you said weakly.
Emily pulled away and cupped your cheeks, asking you to meet her in the eye but your stare was empty, almost as if you were looking past her skull. “I love you. I know words cannot fix this but I love you. We can figure this out together. Please…”
“I waited for months, refusing to believe that that funeral was ever real and that you would come back. I waited…”
Emily’s heart sank as she heard that. You didn’t believe the funeral. You didn’t think it was real. You waited. Months and months, you waited, thinking she was going to come back and that she was still alive. The realization hit Emily like a rock.
“I’m so sorry,” was all Emily could say.
“I know you are and I know it’s not your fault.” You replied in monotone. “But I have every fucking right to feel what I feel.”
Emily nodded, wiping her own tears. She tried to hug you again but this time you stopped her and Emily looked absolutely defeated.
“You can take your things. I already packed them a week ago. It’s in the bedroom.”
“Okay, okay…” Emily stood up. She collected the things she left in your apartment. It wasn’t a lot, mostly clothes and photos. Emily opened a small box and felt her heart shatter when she saw the golden necklace she gave you on your first date. This was yours. She sneaked it back into your dresser and left your room.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
The question took Emily by surprise. “I’m going back to my apartment, I guess. I was staying with JJ for a bit.”
“Don’t die on your way out. Or do. I don’t know what other tricks the Feds have up their sleeves.” As soon as you said that, it left a bitter taste in your mouth.
And that was another dagger to Emily’s heart.
“I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t matter … but I love you. I always will.” Emily said before leaving.
—
Days passed since Emily came over, you still hadn’t left your house. You grew comfortable in the darkness and quietness of your apartment. You only ate when you couldn't stop the growling of your stomach, sometimes not even then.
Reid knocked on your door. He was worried about you. You didn’t answer any of your friends’ calls or messages. He won’t pretend to know how you felt but he, too, was hurt by the betrayal from Hotch and JJ. Reid wanted to at least make sure you were eating and that’s how he found himself knocking on your door with a takeout from your favorite diner.
He was relieved when you opened the door but the smile immediately fell when he saw what you looked like. Reid couldn’t believe his eyes. He stopped himself from asking if you were okay because he already knew the answer.
“What do you want?”
Reid stepped inside the house. “I wanted to come and check up on you. I bought food from that diner we went to last week. You said it was your new favorite.”
Your expression softened, appreciating the thought. Reid didn’t deserve your rage and rudeness. “Thank you, Reid.”
Reid nodded and softly placed the containers on the counter. He watched you for a second, frowning as he saw how red your eyes were and how dark the circles around your eyes had gotten. You had become thinner, too. Smaller.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked softly. This wasn’t an agent or a colleague trying to get you to speak up. This was a friend worried about another friend.
“I’m just waiting to decompose at this point.” You joked darkly.
That hit Reid a little too hard. He frowned, looking absolutely distraught as he heard that. Reid shook his head and sat on the couch next to you, looking at you with pained eyes. “You can’t be thinking like that. We all care about you. We’re your friends and we cannot just sit back and watch you fall apart like this.”
“You knew what I went through, Spencer. You were there - in every hospital visit, in every AA meeting. You have waited outside my therapist’s office every Friday making sure I’ll be there.”
“I know, I know …” Reid couldn’t finish his sentence, biting his lip. He looked down before looking back at you, trying to find the right words to say.
“I’m taking a few more weeks off.”
Reid nodded, saddened by your decision. “Of course. I - I’ll tell Hotch.” He frowned, knowing he and Hotch weren’t on good terms yet too. But it didn’t matter now. “Do you want to be alone? Or would you like not to be alone at the moment? I can stay if you want or I could leave …”
“I just want to be alone, Spencer. I’m not at my best right now and I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not a friend.”
Reid nodded, respecting your decision. He didn’t push. He slowly stood, picking up his keys. He squeezed your shoulder. “Y/N?”
“Hmm?”
“Please … call if you change your mind, okay?”
“I will.”
—
Everyone gave you space after Reid’s visit. No knocks on the door. No phone calls. No messages.
But after a month, everyone started to worry. Reid and Morgan knocked on your door but you weren’t answering. They could hear the noise coming from the TV though. Morgan called your name while pounding on the door.
“Just kick it!” Reid ordered him and Morgan did.
Morgan was frozen, looking at you with eyes widened. “Jesus…”
Reid entered too, looking worried and heartbroken when he saw you. He looked around, seeing the apartment in disarray, food still uneaten on the counter, dishes piled up in the sink.
Morgan checked for your pulse. It’s weak but it’s there. He carried your body to their car and Reid drove to the hospital.
When you woke up the next day, you groaned the first second the light hit your eyes. You had been used to seeing only darkness for weeks.
Emily quickly sprinted to your side. “Hey, hey, are you hurting?”
“The light,” you complained. “Turn it off.”
Emily turned off the main light and switched on the dim light just above the sofa.
Reid stirred awake at the intrusion of light. He looked around and saw you awake. He excitedly got up from the sofa and sat on the chair next to your bed. “Hey.” He gave you a sad, pitiful look. He gently placed his hand on yours, careful not to displace your IV.
“S-sorry,” you mumbled to Reid.
“You have nothing to apologize for. You’ll be okay and we’re all here for you.” Reid glanced at Emily and she nodded. “You don’t have to go through this alone. Everyone will come by later after work.”
“Thanks, Spencer.” You said weakly then turned to Emily who was waiting for you to acknowledge her presence. “I’m leaving the BAU.”
Both of them were shocked by your words. Emily felt her heart drop to her stomach. Reid was staring at you in disbelief.
“Wh - what? Why?” Emily bit her lip, shaking her head, looking confused and broken.
“I don’t want that job anymore.” You simply said.
“Please do not make your decision while you’re in this state of mind. Y - you might be in shock -”
“No.”
Reid didn’t say anything. He remained seated, processing the words you said, that another friend might leave him.
“I - I don’t know how to make the pain stop.” Your eyes start to fill with tears, your vision becoming blurry. “I don’t want to hate you anymore. Or Hotch. Or JJ. But I can’t stop.”
Emily took in a sharp breath at your words, heart shattering as she now started to cry too. “I … I know we hurt you so, so much. I know I am the reason for all of this and I wish I knew how to make the pain go away. You don’t have to forgive me for it. I - I’ll leave the BAU instead. Please … just don’t leave.” Emily bargained.
“I wasn’t happy there anymore. I don’t know if I could be happy being there again.”
Reid squeezed your arm. “We understand you’re hurting but please … think about it. Don’t make any big decisions while you’re like this. Okay?”
You nodded even though you’ve already thought about it. In fact, that was what you thought in all the weeks you spent alone.
“I’m sorry I scared you, Spencer.”
Reid shook his head, trying to convince you he was fine. “No, no … it’s okay. We’re always going to care about you. You don’t have to apologize, okay?”
“You’re like a little brother to me. Always have and always will. No matter where I go.”
Reid bit his lip, trying his best to keep the tears back and failing. “I’m always here for you. No matter what. If you need anything,” He choked a sob. “P-please reach out. Please call.”
You ruffled his hair and Reid managed a smile. “You were always good to me. To everyone.”
“I just want you to be okay.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t believe you, judging from the way he looked at you. “Just … talk to someone, okay? Anyone. Me, Garcia, Morgan … anyone.”
You nodded, holding his hand reassuringly. “I will. Now, stop worrying about me and get me some jello, will you?” Reid choked on a laugh but your wish was his command. He got out of the room, leaving you and Emily alone.
“I …” Emily’s voice cracked. She was feeling all the guilt crashing her like a wave.
“I want to move on from this. I want … I want to look at you again and not be hurt.”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at you. She bit her lip in an attempt to stop her lips from quivering. “I … hurt you so much…didn’t I?” Emily swallowed thickly as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper as she took a deep, shaky breath.
“I was supposed to be happy seeing you alive. For months, I hoped and hoped for you to be alive.”
“But you weren’t … you were hurt and angry and - and that was okay. You have every right to be.”
“But I want to move on from this.”
“I… I want you to as well. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve to be in pain because of me.”
“I want to be happy again.” Hearing those words gave Emily a little hope but it was short-lived when you added, “I’m going to quit the BAU. I’ll go back to teaching. I’ll go back to therapy. I will do what I have to do to stop this from eating me alive.”
Emily wanted to reach for your hand, to comfort you, to plead you not to quit the BAU, but she didn’t. That would just make things worse. Instead, she nodded at your words, still fighting the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she watched you.
“I want to be the person that I was before I met you.”
Emily had a feeling you were going to say something like that. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm her nerves. “Okay… okay…”
“And as for us … I don’t know.”
Emily’s whole world had shattered just like that. She couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks now but she remained waiting for what you have to say.
“We’ve caused each other so much pain now to be happy together, don’t you think?”
Emily shook her head wordlessly, not believing your words but also not wanting to disagree with you. She blinked rapidly, trying to stop the waterworks in her eyes.
“You need to heal. I do too.” You finally made a move and squeezed Emily’s hand. “You understand, right?”
Emily swallowed thickly, nodding a couple of times before she spoke. “Y-yeah … I understand.”
“I want to be okay again with seeing you.”
“I want that too.”
“Because right now, when I look at you, I don’t see the woman I loved for so many years.”
“I … I understand …”
“You have to know that a lot of things happened to me in the months you were … dead … and I can’t just come back to the same old.”
Emily knew that. There was no coming back to how you two were, to the “normal” days before her fake death. Nothing was the same except for the way she felt about you.
You let out your hand for a handshake and Emily took it, squeezing softly. “Thank you, Emily.”
She couldn’t say a word but left a soft, wet kiss on your hand.
—
Two days after you got out of the hospital, you passed your resignation to Hotch. He accepted it wholeheartedly. He didn’t try to stop you. But he did apologize again for the decision he made. He didn’t take your relationship with Emily into consideration and watched you suffer through the whole thing. You told him that it will take time to forgive him just yet but you were grateful for everything that this job taught you.
When you exited his office, Garcia quickly dragged you to the meeting room and put a party hat on your head. You were met with a shout of “surprise!” from everyone on the team. Emily was there as well, standing in the sidelines, sipping a drink and eating finger foods as you said your goodbyes. It was hard for her to see you now that you’re not going to be a part of the team anymore. The guilt was slowly eating her inside.
Garcia asked for a speech and you delivered. “I … I had the best and worst times here. For years, you guys have been my family, my friends, my rock. You still are. I want to thank you all. I promise to keep in touch. I’m only a phone call away.”
The team all spoke up in turn, wishing you luck, thanking you for being an amazing member of the team and how they will all miss you. Emily was the last one left. She slowly stepped closer to you, standing in front of you with a shaky breath.
“I … I wish you nothing but the best. I hope you’re going to be okay. I really … I really do.”
Your lips curved into a tight smile.
Garcia called for a toast. To you. Colleague. Friend. Family.
—
Emily had seen the teaching job offer at the university you and Reid were teaching. She didn’t hesitate to apply, seeing how it helped you and Reid move forward and she hoped it would do the same for her. And it wasn't that far from Quantico, just a 15-minute drive.
Emily saw you came to class and saw you setting up and getting ready to teach the class. She sat quietly at the back, waiting for the lessons to start, and taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. It had been one year, five months, two weeks, and three days since Emily last saw you. Not that she was counting. (She definitely was.)
But if she was going to teach in this university too, she had to get used to seeing you again and being in the same room with you and not being able to talk to you.
Emily watched as you taught the lesson, taking notes as you spoke, completely focused on you. She slowly breathed in and out, trying to calm her heart rate as she listened to your voice. She was impressed by you, not seeing this side of you before. Emily couldn’t help but admire you from afar.
When the class ended, Emily slowly descended the steps of the classroom, nerves on edge as she approached you, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t help being nervous around you, knowing that she couldn’t get close to you. Not anymore.
Emily took a deep, shaky breath before she spoke. Her words were quiet, a contrast to how she used to be with you. “You … you taught really well…”
You looked up, meeting a set of familiar big brown eyes. Emily’s breath was taken away when she saw your smile. “Thank you, Agent Prentiss.” you said politely. “Are you enrolled in my class?”
Emily’s cheeks flushed red at the question, clearing her throat. “I, uh, I just saw you were teaching and decided to sit in. That’s … allowed, right?” She gave a small smile, looking shy and awkward, not knowing what else was there to say.
You let out a small laugh. “I was just messing with you.”
“Oh,” Emily laughed awkwardly. She took out a piece of paper from her bag, wanting to prolong the conversation. “I actually have a question with number five,” She pointed at the question she needed help with. It was an excuse but she hoped you wouldn’t catch it. She talked about her question, or rather the excuse to be in your presence.
You tried your best to explain to her the answer to the question. Emily couldn’t help but stare and be mesmerized by you. She had missed you looking at you, into your eyes, seeing the way your mouth forms the words. You always enunciated your words well and Emily found it so endearing, so utterly perfect. It took everything in her not to reach out and touch you, to hold your hand and tell you how much she still loved you, how much she had missed you.
But she couldn’t and this felt like pure torture for her.
“How was the BAU?” Emily was surprised by your question. She thought you completely forgot that life behind, knowing you didn’t try to visit at all after you had resigned.
“It’s okay. We miss you around there.” She lied. Not the missing you part. The okay part. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t the same since you left. It felt like a part of it was missing. The thought of you plagued her mind every single day that she spent in the BAU.
“I miss being out in the field as well.”
A small, sad smile graced Emily’s lips when you said that. She missed all the times you were working together, solving cases, theorizing about UnSubs, and spending time together. And she had ruined that. All because her past caught up to her.
“I …” Emily swallowed thickly, biting into her lip as her eyes suddenly watered. “I miss you …”
You stared at Emily, surprised by her confession. You didn’t know what to say.
Good thing that a knock on the door distracted you.
The moment you were distracted, the moment another person came in, Emily wiped her tears away, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. The moment you started talking to the other person, giggling at the conversation, Emily’s heart ached a little, knowing you had moved on. But she had to get used to it. She made her bed and now she had to lie in it. She quickly put her things back in her handbag, about to leave the classroom when she heard you call her name.
“Emily.”
Emily stopped. “Yeah?”
“I want to introduce you to my friend, Alex Blake. Former FBI agent as well. Alex, this is SSA Emily Prentiss.”
Emily shook Alex’s hand, giving a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Blake.” She said, her tone soft, the same smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes that she gave everyone else but you.
Emily tried to seem happy as you conversed with Alex, forcing her lips into a small, polite smile. She felt her heart shatter a bit more upon seeing you converse so normally with another person that isn’t her. But she had to deal with it.
When you bid goodbye to Alex, you turned to Emily. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”
Emily shook her head. “No, I don’t. Why?”
“We should go out sometime … with Alex. Exchange FBI stories if you want?”
Emily’s heart nearly stopped beating as you said that. She tried not to feel too excited and hopeful. A million thoughts raced through her head, and they all boiled down to one simple question: Was this a sign of a new chapter in your broken relationship?
“Y-yeah, that sounds good.”
“I’ll invite Spencer too. He adores Alex.” You added excitedly.
Emily smiled again, a little bigger and more genuine this time, feeling a bit more relaxed when you say that.
You picked up your bag and your laptop, ready to leave. “See you next time?”
Emily nodded, feeling a bit sad at the thought of you leaving. But she knew she couldn’t keep you forever. “Of course. I’ll see you next time.”
—
After almost two years, you decided to finally take that long-awaited visit to the BAU. Everything was going well with your therapy and your new job. This part was the only thing in your life that was left untouched and unresolved. It was time to make amends with that.
When the elevator opened, you were greeted by your former colleagues. Many of them missed having you around since you left, especially Garcia. Everyone gathered around and took a piece of the donuts you brought. Reid introduced Lewis and Alvez to you. They were fairly new members of the team since Hotch was promoted Section Chief and Morgan resigned to be a full time dad. You also learned that Emily was promoted a month ago as unit chief of the BAU.
Emily was in her office when you dropped by, working some paperwork and trying to avoid unnecessary social interaction. She moved her blinds to take a peek at the commotion she heard and was surprised to see you surrounded by your friends.
When you glanced at the office and saw Emily peeking from her window, you excused yourself from the group and snatched away a box of donuts. You knocked on her door. “Now that you run this unit, you don’t leave the office anymore?”
Emily’s head looked up to you and away from the paperwork on her desk. Her breath hitched a little in her throat as she heard your voice. “Come in.”
“I offer you donuts.” You said with a smile, putting the box down on her table.
“You really didn’t have to.”
“I got it for everybody and that includes you.”
Emily smiled at you. It was hard for her not to just stand up and hug you from the moment you came into her office. Every instinct in her body was screaming for her to do it but she stayed in her seat, biting on her lip.
“I’m sure they’ll love it, especially Spencer. He has a sweet tooth.”
“He does.”
Emily fell silent for a moment, her eyes lowering as she thought of what to say next. “I…” She paused for a second, taking another deep breath. “I missed you …”
You smiled widely, as if teasing her. “You missed me? Don’t you see me every week in my class already?”
She laughed softly, shaking her head at your teasing. “You know what I mean.”
You swallowed nervously, staring at Emily. Her eyes softened as she held your gaze. “You don’t know … how much I miss you.”
You were about to say something when Reid knocked and entered the office. He was excited to tell you about the puppy he adopted through Alvez.
Emily tried to push down the disappointment but her eyes turned cold for a moment as she saw how excited you were over the dog. Her heart ached with jealousy and frustration, and she had to bury herself back on the paperwork so that she wouldn’t snap at Reid.
At some point in the conversation, you were dragged back to the bullpen. Emily followed but your conversation was left on hold or forgotten, she wasn’t sure.
Seeing you interact with the team caused more heartache for Emily because why couldn’t it be her? Why couldn’t she have one normal interaction with you? But she tried to keep her feelings at bay for the sake of the team. She stood beside JJ, her expression blank and face neutral as she tried to act normally and control her emotions.
Emily went back to her office after giving up on continuing the conversation that you two had. She sat in her chair, leaning forwards slightly as she tried to focus on the files on her table, but she couldn’t help glancing at the door every few minutes, waiting and hoping you would walk in.
When she heard footsteps and a knock on her door, she practically jumped up, straightening out her attire before opening the door. Her heart started racing in her chest.
“I’m going home.” You informed her.
Then Emily’s heart started to ache as it raced, saddened by the news of you leaving already. But she gave you a smile and a nod, trying to seem less affected by it. “Yeah, uhm… I’ll see you then.” She said softly.
You gave a small wave before she watched you walk away. She closed the door and sighed into her chair, her face buried into her palms.
You just walked past the glass doors when you decided to turn around and come back to Emily’s office. You knocked before opening the door. “By the way…” You paused, trying to gain back the courage.
Emily froze in her seat when you suddenly came back. “Y-yes?”
“I missed you too.” You said all in one breath then you clenched your jaw to regain some control as the blush crept up your cheeks. “Bye.” You closed the door rather loudly, losing every bit of the courageous nerves that you had in your body.
Emily’s heart was racing before but now it was running a marathon. She barely managed to compose herself before a smile formed across her lips. Her cheeks blushed slightly as the realization of what just happened sunk in.
You missed her too.
—
The next time you saw Emily again was surprisingly not in your class but at the little coffee shop just outside the university grounds. Emily was in her casual clothes, sipping slowly on her drink as she got some reading done. Her expression was calm and peaceful, a look of contentment on her face. She glanced out of the window a few times, waiting for no one in particular until she saw you walking on the other side of the street. Then she saw you walked in and waited in line.
You asked the barista your usual and paid for your drink despite Dana’s, the barista, insisting that it’s on her. You scanned the place for a vacant seat and only found one. Across Emily. You took your cup and walked to Emily. “Hi. Fancy meeting you here.” You said. “Can I take this seat or…?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s not taken.”
“So, what are you doing here alone? It’s a little out of the way from Quantico.”
“I forgot to tell you that I started teaching classes here two months ago.”
“You did?”
“Y-yeah. That's why I sit in your class every Thursday. Your class was just an hour after mine.”
“Oh. So you’re Professor P.” You said with a smile. “Some of my students have developed a certain admiration for you.”
“Well, as far as admiration goes…” Emily looked down on your cup and turned it around to show you the phone number and short message that was written in your cup. “Who’s that?”
You frowned. “That’s Dana, the barista and former student of mine.” You sighed. “She keeps giving me her number and I don’t plan on getting called to the Dean’s office for inappropriate relations with a student. I’m surprised she doesn’t get prank calls every time I throw a cup away.”
Even though Emily’s heart still hurts a bit, jealousy clawing into her gut, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of you throwing the cup away every time. “She must really like you.” She commented with a small smile, her words holding a tiny pinch of hurt in her voice.
“And if I liked her back then maybe she finally put something in my drink.” You huffed a laugh. “But she’s harmless.”
Emily nodded in agreement. “You’re just a pretty lovable person.”
“You’re just saying that.”
Emily shook her head, smiling. “I’m really not.”
The two of you got quiet for a second until you asked, “Do you want to have dinner?”
She looked a bit surprised at that but her expression quickly morphed into a smile. “Sure. I’d love to.”
”You still like Asian food right?”
“Of course. I’m practically addicted to spicy Asian food.”
“There’s an Asian Street Food Festival not far from here. You wanna come?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Emily’s heart filled with excitement at the thought of having dinner with you alone after a very long time. It was like her prayers were finally being heard.
You invited Emily to your car and drove her to the place. She looked out the window the whole time as you drove, her eyes flickering between looking at the scenery outside and watching as you drove.
As soon as you arrived, Emily bought a variety of spicy foods while you settled on the savory ones. When everything got too much to hold, you both settled on the bench under a big tree. Emily’s mouth watered at the vast amount of food on the table and her excitement grew.
“This is delicious,” Emily said, glancing over at you as she swallowed her bite. “You do know how to pick the best places.”
“Well, I stumbled on this place accidentally when I ran away from a date last month.”
A small laugh escaped her lips at that, raising an eyebrow and feigning surprise as she glanced at you with a teasing expression on her face. “You ran away from a date?” Emily asked, trying to sound lighthearted and innocent despite the sudden flare of jealousy in her chest.
You nodded, grimacing as you remembered the experience. “It was horrible. She ordered for me and didn’t even let me look at the menu.”
She snorted, shaking her head in both understanding and sympathy. “That’s irritating. I would have run away too.”
“I never had much luck with meeting new people.” You confessed sadly.
Emily’s expression softened a bit at your words. Her eyes filled with gentle understanding and warmed as she looked at you. She reached out, gently placing her hand on top of yours. A small, reassuring smile spread across her lips as she spoke with sincerity. “Dating can be hard but that doesn’t mean you won’t find someone to share your life with.”
“That’s the problem…” Your eyes met Emily’s, your chest suddenly felt a little tight. “I found her already.”
Emily’s eyes widened slightly at your words, her heart practically stopped for a second before it continued beating rapidly. Her face flushed with a dark, rosy blush. Her eyes flickered from you to the food in front of her. Her voice came out a bit breathless and her words slightly flustered. “Y-you did?”
You nodded wordlessly, taking a bite of the food, and trying to avoid her gaze.
Emily’s entire body tingled with excitement and nervousness. “Is there a chance she feels the same way you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then maybe you should ask her how she feels just to make sure.”
“I will.”
“Y-you should.”
It was your turn to ask. “Have you ever had any luck? Meeting new people?”
“No.”
“Why? Did the promotion really take too much of your time?”
“It just didn’t feel right.” She admitted, her voice soft, almost sheepish as she fiddled with her food. When she saw the confused expression on your face, she added, “It just didn’t feel right trying to date someone that my heart didn’t belong with.”
You were quiet for a moment. Emily was too. You both focused on finishing the food on your table.
“I want to apologize,” you spoke a while later.
Emily’s eyebrows rose slightly. “For what?”
“For all the things that I said out of anger back then.” Emily’s eyes widened slightly at that. Her heart clenched tightly in her chest as she listened to you. “I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me and … it wasn’t fair. Not to me, not to you. I wasn’t in the right headspace. I was … grieving you and the life we had together. All I knew was that I was hurting and everyone must too.”
The guilt bubbled inside Emily as the realization of how much pain she had caused you. Emily took in a deep, shuddering breath.
You continued, “But if I ever made you think that you should have stayed dead, then I’m sorry. It wasn’t… it wasn’t what I really wanted.” Your voice slightly choked on with emotion. “I’m sorry, Emily.”
Emily squeezed your hand tightly, eyes glistening with tears. The guilt was swelling up inside her along with a flare of affection. “I … I forgive you.”
You felt the tightness in your chest slowly loosen and you felt like you could breathe again. You squeezed Emily’s hand, holding her gaze lovingly.
“I…” She tried, her voice coming out in a shaky, slightly choked gasp. “I love you.”
Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat as your eyes glistened with affection and adoration and finally Emily could see it again: the woman she fell in love with all those years ago, before all the hurt and the pain, before everything.
“I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” You said truthfully.
“I think I never stopped loving you either.”
You let out a small, content sigh. “Where do we go from here, Emily?”
Emily stood and offered her hand. You took it and to your surprise, she pulled you into her arms and locked you in a gentle embrace. “Well, we can start by going to my apartment and I can make us some tea. I’ll give you some cookies,” She suggested, a hint of mischievous glimmer in her eyes as she grinned at you.
You put your palm on Emily’s chest, right above her heart, feeling it beat hard and fast.
She’s alive.
She’s here.
“That would be nice.”
#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x female reader#emily prentiss fic#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x y/n#emily prentiss#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#jaye writes
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protective jj protextiive jj protecitice jj ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️
yup yup yup say no more ‼️
one thing about jj is that when he loved someone, he was also fully committed to protecting them at all costs. his circle was small, so when he cared about someone, he would do everything in his power to keep them safe.
but with you, he fully knew he would die before letting anything happen to you. and it sure was a task having a beautiful girlfriend, because to strangers eyes, you were just a pretty face and a pretty body, and that was just a blessing and a curse to jj.
keggers always brought out the creeps, and jj’s blood pressure was always just a bit high every time the two of you went. he would still enjoy himself, but he didn’t miss the way guys would stare at you, eyeing your body as if you were just anyones to have. you weren’t naive about it, you knew people stared, but as long as no one tried to touch you or talk to you, you didn’t let it bother you.
but of course, you didn’t live in a perfect world so trouble was bound to find you every now and then. you had a few drinks and you were feeling good. you had spent the day with jj and this was a great way to end the night together.
“yo jj, I can’t get this keg to tap, can you help me real quick?” john b approached you and jj, gently squeezing the blonde boy’s shoulder.
“yeah I got you,” jj answered, turning to you once he spoke, “c’mon, let’s go baby.” he nudged your waist, nodding towards the direction of where john b had ventured back off to.
you shook your head, “nah it’s okay, kie’s gonna be here any minute and I told her I would wait for her here. you go, I’ll be okay.” you assured him with a smile, not missing the hesitation clear on his face. he didn’t want to leave you alone, but he also didn’t want to make you feel like you couldn’t be independent and handle yourself alone for a minute.
he inhaled sharply before responding, “alright, alright, yeah. I’ll be right back.” he told you, giving you a quick kiss before going off to help john b. you took another sip from your cup, pulling out your phone to check if kiara had texted you.
“no way a pretty girl like you is here by herself.” a man’s voice startled you as you looked up from your phone, a touron, presumably had wasted no time invading your space as soon as you were alone, great.
“yeah, no, I’m not. but I’m not interested. so thanks but no thanks.” you told the man, looking back at your phone, hoping that for once, a man could have the ability to read the room.
“jesus, entitled aren’t you? can’t even let me say more than one sentence to you before being a bitch?” the man snapped, his ego obviously bruised. you did feel a little nervous now, uncomfortable with how quick his demeanor had shifted. instead of responding, you turned to walk away but were stopped when his hand grabbed your shoulder harshly, yanking you around to face him again.
he had opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a fist to his jaw, and you jumped back in surprise at the sudden violence unfolding before you. you weren’t shocked to see that it was jj who had punched him and you set your cup down as jj kept going at him, reaching from behind your boyfriend to grab onto the fabric of his tank top, trying to pull him off of the guy.
“you think you can just touch girls, bro? when her back is turned to you?” he spat, tensing when he felt someone touch his shirt, glancing back for a moment to see that it was you.
“jj stop, stop, it’s not worth it, please.” you pleaded with him to stop, grateful that he had stepped in to help, but it wasn’t worth him getting potentially hurt over or in trouble.
“you’re a fragile ass bitch, dude. fuckin- apologize to my girl and then fuck off. I’m so serious right now.” jj eventually stopped his punches, but kept a grip on the guys shirt as he forced him to face you. he was indeed a bitch, because he barely muttered out a little ‘I’m sorry’ before stumbling back and hurrying away from the two of you.
“jesus, I leave ya alone for not even two minutes and these douchebags think they can try some shit,” jj rubbed at his now bleeding knuckles before pulling you into his chest, his hands rubbing at your sides, “you okay, pretty girl? you’re not hurt are ya?” you shook your head in response, relaxing into his touch. you hated when he had to resort to violence, but you did understand it in this situation. you were just proud of him for not losing control this time.
“I’m okay, thank you for saving me. that was lowkey hot as fuck.”
(not me getting carried away ummmm oops thank you anon <3)
#jj maybank#outer banks#jj maybank one shot#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank prompt#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank fic
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Emergency Request!(Do you even do these?)
I need some Muichiro x reader! 😩😩 I'm desperate! I haven't found anyone who wrote this like you! I don't care if it's fluff, smut, angst, comfort. Anything will work! Please!😩✨♥
A Misty Onsen || Muichiro Tokito x fem!reader
A/n : Heyyy no I don't usually do emergency requests but you're lucky i got an idea for this one hehehe. Hope you guys will like it ! It seems like i'm back here ! 💚💙
Warnings : Muichiro is aged up ofc, nakedness, erection, oral fem receiver, fingering, penetrative sex, cockwarming, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it
Summary : After a long day you don't want anything else more than going at the onsen to rest your sore body. But there is someone here ready to help you feel better
Masterlist ⚜
I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it
Word count : 1316
After the long training of today you were completely drained. You winced with each new step you took, your muscles were tense and all you wanted to do was soak in a bath and let the warmth of the water soothe your aching muscles. At this point you weren't really thinking, your brain was on autopilot as you walked through the Demon Slayer Corps. towards your quarters to fetch a towel.
Without thinking too much, you headed for the baths, and once there, you gently pushed open the door just to see if it was open. To your surprise, it was open, so you entered unsuspectingly. Although it was in the open air, the atmosphere was heavy and the warmth was comforting. You placed your towel on one of the rocks and proceeded to undress. You didn't immediately notice the pile of clothes lying nearby.
And it was only when you had pulled your shirt over your head, unhooked your bra and were about to put it down that you saw it. A small cry of surprise escaped from between your lips, making him turn his head towards you.
“Muichiro !” your hands instinctively came to cover your chest, as if to protect what little dignity you had left, “You could have told me you were there !” you squeaked.
He looked at you with a jaded air, his eyes opening and closing slowly, before replying totally off the mark “Y/n why are you hiding your chest like that ?” he asked his head leaning to the side “I've already seen it you know” he added rather matter of factly.
A rush a heat spread across your face as you clutches your chest tighter “Muichiro that is not the question !” you blushed deeply “Why didn’t you lock the door ?”
“I forgot,” he answered just as casually as his earlier answer. He relaxed once again in the water, his gaze setting on the sky above.
Though something caught his attention “Why are you dressing back up ?”
At his question you stop mid-movement, then he continued “Besides I haven't seen you all day... well I think,” he brought his finger back to his chin, trying as best he could to remember if you had met during the day.
You chuckled, his questioning bringing a smile to your lips “Yes, you're right, we haven't met today... I can stay.”
At your words you saw a slight smile spread across his often emotionless face ( yeah I did say that ahahah but remember in the very beginning we couldn't say he was that expressive ) at that moment his eyes were still riveted on the clouds above his head. Though as soon as you restarted undressing, you couldn't help but feel his gaze on you, and as you looked in his direction you didn't miss the way his gaze studied your every move.
“Can you look the other way until I get in the water ?”
“I’ve told you, I’ve already seen it a-”
“Muichiro,” you warned.
He did as you told him, couldn't help a slight blush appearing on his upper cheeks, and put one of his hands there to feel the warmth underneath. You entered the water shortly afterwards. The movement created a slight ripple on the water's surface. You sighed heavily as your body relaxed almost immediately in the warm embrace of this healing water.
You made your way towards him, seeing his eyes widen with every step you took towards him, before finally feeling your naked body pressed against his. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the way his arm muscles flexed with every movement on the water's surface. He gulped at the unexpected closeness, but didn't push away.
“Don't get all shy now,” you teased him, taking advantage of the opportunity because it didn't happen often to see him so flustered “I didn't think it bothered you earlier,” you added before giving his shoulder a kiss.
He cleared his throat before replying “There's a difference between seeing you outside the onsen and having you here, naked and almost grinding on my genitals.”
This time the color red returned to your face, it's true that your boyfriend had a tendency to be very direct, even in his vocabulary, maybe even a little too direct. At least you had the excuse of hot water, and all that water steam that made your complexion just as rosy.
When you slightly pulled away, your gaze locked with his and you thought you saw a slight sparkle in his eyes.
Muichiro was far from being that out of it, seeing the tiredness in your own eyes he couldn't help but want to make your day better “Sit on the edge,” he asked, his hands closing over your hips before lifting you out of the water and onto one of the rocks around you.
You squeaked at this, getting even redder if that were possible, trying to cling to him as tightly as you could “M-Muichiro w-what are you doing ?” you stuttered, suddenly feeling very naked in front of his azure eyes.
“Preparing you for pleasure,” he replied, his hands coming to rest on each of your knees before gently spreading your legs apart. He shuffled in the water to rest between them.
“No, I-I'll be fine,” but you bit your lip saying that, pressure between your legs gradually building.
“You're wet,” he pointed out.
“It's just water,” you defended yourself.
He passed his finger between your folds, feeling the viscosity coming from there “It's clearly not just water,” he raised his gaze to you before bringing his head even closer to your inner thigh “I know you need it,” he murmured and you shivered as you felt his breath on your heating skin.
Knowing that you really needed it and that apparently from the erection you could see from your perch almost sticking out of the water, he wanted it too. You ran your hand through his wet locks, bringing him closer. He was almost quick to nestle his head in, before placing a wet kiss on your clit.
You arched your back against him as his tongue gently and unhurriedly explored the rest of your glistening pussy. His tongue darted back and forth from your bundle of nerves to your hole, occasionally slipping inside to caress the velvety walls.
His hands gripped your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he greedily devoured you. The obscene sounds his mouth made against you echoed above the water. Soon he decided to focus on your clit, which he sucked and licked as two of his fingers filled you.
It wasn't long before the combined action had you cumming all over his face. He continued to lick, savoring the sweetness that turned him on so much. By the time he had finished he was already rock hard. He refused several times, when you insisted several times to return the favor, knowing that you were tired from your day, so he suggested something else.
“Just sit on it and let me do the rest, that's all I ask. Can you do that, right Y/n ?”
You nodded and let him guide you onto his cock, impaling yourself on it slowly so that you got used to his size before wrapping his arms around you and relaxing his body in the water against yours.
And while he usually fucked you with all his frustration of the day, today he decided to thrust a little now and then, he knew that somehow your tightness would end up making him cum at some point.
He pulled you a little tighter against him, letting you sit on the natural seats the rock provided. Your eyes were closed as your head rested on his shoulder. And as usual, his gaze was lost on the surrounding nature... but one thing wasn't lost... his hand, which gently closed over one of your breasts.
#demon slayer#demon slayer imagine#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer smut#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu no yaiba imagine#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#kimetsu no yaiba smut#muichiro tokito#muichiro tokito imagine#muichiro tokito x reader#muichiro tokito smut#muichiro x reader#muichiro smut#kny muichiro tokito#kny muichiro#request#smut#miri-writes
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ok so forewarning, i don’t really have a question here, just lots of thoughts.
there’s so many layers to the general *badness* about the mia vallens therapy scene. like to the manipulation (for lack of a better word) that sam rewrites. like it makes such a difference that she thinks jack is their little brother instead of the son of the thing that killed dean’s best friend/loml. not to mention the fact that it’s been what like a week since *everything*
and like yes dean’s being cold towards jack and giving him orders (which, i could argue they weren’t uncalled-for), but tbh he’s only being moderately colder/more direct with him than he’s been with cas at times on hunts (thinking hunteri heroici) and even similar to how *sam* has been with like claire and even dean himself (thinking that episode dean turned into a teenager and all of MOC). like genuinely, how was sam expecting him to act like?
also (half joking) i genuinely think dean would’ve warmed up to jack even quicker than he did (we can already see it in this same episode, like that look he gives jack when he asks mia if buddy hurt her too) if he heard jack say he hates anakin skywalker lol
ok wait i do have a question. do you think jack actually was “terrified” of dean during that therapy scene?
(post linking to some context)
Okay so I rewatched 13.01-13.04 on a plane this past week so it's all extra fresh on my mind rn. The thing about 13.04 is that Dean wasn't comfortable bringing Jack on the hunt, and Jack didn't want to go, but Sam pushed insistently for all of them to go on the hunt together... primarily because Dean's feelings were thwarting Sam's plans for Jack and his own emotional coping mechanisms in a larger sense.
I think Dean's feelings compared to Sam's here are relatively more simple (and yet somehow still intensely misunderstood to a baffling degree). Dean was grieving. He was grieving Cas who died right in front of him, he was grieving Crowley (he pleads with Chuck to bring "even Crowley" back in 13.01!) and he was grieving Mary.
The thing with Dean's grief over Cas is this: instead of viewing it from Dean's perspective, we tend to analyze it as omniscient viewers who know Cas will come back, refusing see how miraculous Cas’s return truly was. We refuse to see Cas's death was different this time and appeared very permanent. There was no uncertainty like there was in season 7 or 8. His wings burned into the ground and his grace extinguished. Dean pleaded and prayed for Cas and Mary and Crowley's return to the only person who ever brought Cas back from certain death (via explosion in 5.01 and 5.22)—the person who told Dean in 11.23 he was leaving and Dean was on his own. Dean didn't hear back. The ONLY reason Cas comes back in 13.05 is that 1) Jack woke him him up unwittingly using powers no one knew he possessed and 2) Cas then annoyed a creature they didn't even know existed into letting him out of a place they 3) didn't even know existed and 4) Cas somehow came back with a body even though he had been burned to ash. All of this is completely miraculous. It was unforeseeable. It doesn’t even make complete sense as a viewer. In other words, Dean has ZERO reason to hope for Cas's return. There was ZERO reason to refuse to acknowledge that grief… but that's exactly what Sam does. He suggests Dean pray for Chuck to bring Cas back in 13.01. As soon as Sam knew Dean already tried that and Cas was DEAD dead, he treated Cas as something Dean needed to reframe and get over:
SAM: You thinking mom is gone and Cas is gone, and that Jack can’t be saved. Dean, after everything we’ve gone through… We just lost people we love, people who have been in our lives for a long time. Everything’s upside-down. I get it. But we’ve been down before. I mean, rock bottom. And we find a way. We fix it because that’s what we do.
This is the "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps" speech in 13.02—like a day after they burned Cas's body. Sam's wording here is cruel too—saying Dean is "thinking" Cas is gone as if he didn't die right in front of him? He refuses to acknowledge Cas's death as something Dean was actively and rightfully mourning. This becomes a major point of contention between the brothers at the end of 13.03.
DEAN: Look, I know you think that you can use [Jack] as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do all I see is everybody we’ve lost!
SAM: Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack!
Sam will only name Mary—the one person whose death they can’t 100% confirm (the same thing happens in front of Mia in 13.04). The absence of Cas’s name here is pointed. So Dean says:
DEAN: And what about Cas?
And how does Sam respond?
SAM: What about Cas?
Uh... wow. That's what really sets Dean off to full on shouting:
DEAN: [Jack] manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!
Sam's denial of what Dean literally SAW (Cas died) and how that hurts—his insistence that Dean also halt grieving to hope for the impossible—it's a major sticking point and very revealing of Sam's own coping mechanisms. Sam's chief response to grief is to disassociate himself from it. We see a textbook case in season 8 (see: 8.08), but in most of the series, what this actually looks like for Sam is to keep moving and hunting (ex: 1.02, 2.02, 2.10, 2.11, 2.18 3.11, 4.09, 9.01) which is also why he insists on bringing Dean and Jack on the hunt in 13.04. Sam tries not to think about what they've lost and focuses on what he CAN do. He focuses on hoping Mary can be saved because she's the one person he didn't SEE die.
The thing about Dean’s grief over Mary is this: he convinces himself Lucifer had to have killed her. She's the one person whose death Dean can't be certain of, but he absolutely cannot bear the thought of hoping she’s alive and it turning out he’s wrong. He knows he wouldn’t psychologically survive hoping in that and his beliefs being crushed. It would be like losing his mom all over again (a THIRD time). So he sticks to what is most likely: Lucifer killed her. He can't contend with the hope Sam is clinging to desperately, and that's what makes them such poor companions in grief. Sam feels off balance when Dean won't keep moving and hoping like him—when Dean can't keep up the pace Sam wants to run at in his own grief—and in doing so, Sam keeps pushing Dean to contend with hopes that open Dean up to a WORLD of pain Sam can psychologically convince himself not to feel. Grieving together just really just doesn't work for them because they're never on the same page and deal in such different ways—and this has been hurting them from as early as 2.02!!!
Now to bring Jack into this more fully: Jack represents Sam and Dean's different perspectives on grief and on Mary. Just like Dean despairs over Mary's demise, Dean despairs over the possibility of Jack being good. He can't bear the idea of hoping in that and being wrong. The psychologically safest option for him is to assume the worst and not hope or believe in anything turning out okay.
Sam, on the other hand, pretty much immediately sees a way to use Jack to get Mary back. This is clear when he and Jack get locked up together in the jail cell in 13.01. After establishing that Jack isn't hearing things and (probably) isn't going to murder him imminently, Sam immediately starts down a line of questioning establishing how well Jack understands his powers, and then asks him outright:
SAM: Jack, look, um... before you were born, you -- you opened up a door to another world. Do you remember that?
JACK: Yes.
SAM: Okay, um, could you do that again?
Shortly after, when Sam arrives, he tells Dean (who is convinced after everything that happened in 12.23 that 12.19 that Jack is evil or will turn evil):
We need him.
Sam repeats this sentiment multiple times with clear meaning, and later in 13.04, he admits to Jack that he wants to use him to open the portal. This doesn't mean he doesn't also grow to see himself in Jack quickly and genuinely believe in his capacity for good, but he isn't fully honest with Jack about his motives until 13.04 where he finally comes clean, and this poisons the well with Jack a little.
@shallowseeker has pointed out before that in 13.03, while trying to figure out how to get Jack's powers to work (and spying on Jack through cameras from another room) Sam is seen reading "The Drama Of The Gifted Child". I wish I could find the post because Shal probably brought it up too, but when I was rewatching this episode, I noticed the chapter Sam had just settled into read before being interrupted was titled,
"Depression and Grandiosity: Two Related Forms of Denial"
Given the accusations flying from Sam toward Dean then from Dean toward Sam about denial in the following episode (13.04), this feels amusingly pointed. Dean is depressed (and about to attempt suicide in 13.05), Sam is depressed and has "grandiose" ideas of using Jack to pop open a portal to another reality while hiding behind the guise of being the most rational person in the room when he... isn't necessarily? And it's easy to argue "Well, Sam turns out to be right even if he didn't ultimately have much of a reason to think he was" but the core problem here is how his beliefs effect how he treats other people's grief. He isn't honest with Jack about his motives (while Dean is somewhat brutally honest) and pushes and watches even while claiming he's giving Jack space (13.03), he refuses to give Dean space to grieve even the family member they know is dead, he inserts a therapist into the situation and criticizes Dean's grief when Dean won't play his game, and in 13.05, after Dean says that he can't believe in anything right now, Sam's clumsy attempts at help involve plying Dean with alcohol he says he doesn't even want and trying to send him off to strip clubs—believing that Dean performing being okay will somehow address his mental state because Sam's idea of coping himself is simply "going through the motions".
As for Jack, I don't think he's scared of Dean. I think he's scared of what Dean believes. He's scared that Dean is right. From 13.01-13.06, Jack is contending with the question of whether he's destined for evil or good, and in his depressed state, Dean believes Jack is destined for evil because hoping in anything is completely beyond him at that moment. Sam tells Jack that he can be good, but he hides ulterior motives as to why he's being nice, and when those ulterior motives are revealed, it leaves Jack thinking Sam is the kind of person who will lie to Jack and tell him he's good just to get what he wants. Meanwhile, Jack knows Dean is being completely honest with him about what he believes. 13.03 and 13.04 clearly demonstrate that Jack understands the difference between beliefs and facts: Dean could be right or he could be wrong. What Jack holds onto like an anchor is that he can trust Dean to tell him the truth about what he believes—even if it hurts.
It's also just so obvious that Jack immediately wants Dean—specifically—to like him (see: Jack mimicking Dean's mannerisms while eating in 13.02, and his clumsy attempts to earn his favor in 13.04). Sam also picks up on this, and encourages Jack to seek Dean's approval in 13.04 to try and change Dean's beliefs. Sam (and to some extent Jack) are thinking in 13.04, that if Jack can prove to Dean that he can be good, and if Dean tells him he did a good job (which Dean does in the end), Jack can believe that. Sam sees that Jack wants Dean's approval and the impression that Dean's beliefs have had on Jack and thinks by pushing them together as soon as possible (when neither of them want to go on the hunt) and treating them as a family and forcing Dean to accept Jack when Dean just isn't ready (including by paralleling Jack with himself in a way that becomes an accusation), he can "fix" Jack so he isn't scared of his powers anymore (13.03) and then he can teach Jack to use his powers and Jack can open a portal to save their mom.
Jack's attempts to earn Dean's favor in 13.04 are clumsy. His first attempt is directly ignoring Dean telling him to wait in the car and sneaking into the crime scene, potentially contaminating it. At Mia's office, Jack's outburst about losing a mother is what allows Sam to set up the whole family therapy trap to begin with, and because Dean knows Sam is going to use that to hurt him, he warns Jack not to make outbursts like that. Dean is not being nice. Point blank. And I do think his tone is a little different than with Cas which in the past felt more like exasperation. I also don’t think it makes him the devil. I think that's understandable when putting in even a tiny amount of effort and it's kind of laughable to me how few people seem to even try because they're so caught up in Sam's happy family narrative and the idea that someone wanting Dean's approval presents an obligation that Dean give it no matter how emotionally impossible—and in a situation where asking him to lie would actually destroy that much more of Jack's trust.
#13.01#13.02#13.03#13.04#13.05#dean and mary#mary#dean and jack#jack#and cas is my best friend#the flannel business#bad therapist sam#season 13#mail#i just stopped
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Once, there was a girl who learned the name of an ancient god. It burned in her, the name, it shouted out to be spoken, but she dared not speak it. It was a holy thing, a precious jewel of worth in this worthless world, but it was not a name that should be spoken.
There were some who thought otherwise—princes, hierophants, dead men, sorcerer-kings. They employed their means of persuasion, but still the girl demurred. Even as they led her to the gallows, she did not speak—she did not speak—
She was going to die. She had a duty she’d never asked for, a sacred obligation, and it meant more than her life—but, she realized, she wasn’t willing to die for it.
She spoke five syllables, and the world fell away.
~~~
No one tried to persuade her, after that. It wouldn’t have done them much good, anyway. She’d have just given them a mischievous grin, and gleefully demonstrated the absence of her tongue.
She got older. The regret never faded, the blood on her hands never washed away, but at least she got to live an uneventful life, for a time.
~~~
It’s almost a joke, in the end. The princes and sorcerer-kings never got her, but some kid, all belligerent from drinking away a broken heart, waving a sword around like a jackass? That’s who does her in. He isn’t even trying to kill her, just stumbling in her direction sword-first.
She has no choice. Her tongue is gone, but the name had never needed a tongue to be spoken. It spills from her mouth like a star exploding:
“Beatboxing Puppy.”
A cutscene triggers. Non-diegetic music fills the air. A thing more beast than god romps and frolicks about. The blade moves no closer to her heart—that isn’t part of the cutscene. And time, real time, isn’t part of the cutscene either, even with the sword’s tip less than a second from her skin. But it can only last so long—
“Beatboxing Puppy.”
The cutscene begins again, but there’s just the slightest interval between one’s end and the other’s beginning. It’s enough. The sword pierces skin, nuzzles the soft meat of her heart. She is going to die, once the cutscene ends, and it is almost—
“Beatboxing Puppy.”
No interval this time—the cutscene plays inside the cutscene, like space and time folding in on themselves. She can’t feel the pain, not while she stands outside the world, but the interruption in her blood flow is starting to impair her cognition. All she has to do is keep saying it—
“Beatboxing Puppy.”
They say that if you go there, you can still see it—the wound in time, the hole in the world. The cutscene, unending. She will never die. You can see her, if you’re close enough, can hear the non-diegetic music and see for yourself the face of god.
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So I think we all understand at this point that much of the Fairy Tales of Remnant and various other in-universe folktales and legends that have been told or otherwise mentioned up to now are IMPORTANT. That these stories, particularly the ones that are given some kind of focus, are meant to relate to specific events or characters and generally foreshadow things that will happen or be revealed in the show. Whether in the direct sense of ‘this story is actually relating real events that are significant to characters’ like The Story of the Seasons to the Maidens and Oz, or in more indirect, symbolic fashion like Oscar and Ozpin idly discussing The Girl Who Fell Through the World in Volume 8.
Suffice to say, fairy tales in RWBY clearly MEAN something. Especially if a fairy tale is clearly being connected to a character or characters.
To that end, going forward I think we should really be looking at The Warrior in the Woods, and in-particular the animated short, as being narratively tied to Summer, Raven and Taiyang. And specifically meant to foreshadow what Taiyang’s relationship with Summer and Raven was REALLY like.
For one, the connection the animated short draws is not exactly subtle. The short is flat out framed as Tai reading the story to Ruby and Yang for bedtime, with the boy in the story looking like a young version of Tai while the titular Warrior looks literally like a combination of Summer and Raven. And to top it all off, the story even broadly reflects what we already know about the relationships of the three; with the young man losing the woman he so admired and loved just like Tai lost Summer and Raven. Again, the connections are not in ANY way subtle here.
So with that base established, what more can we potentially glean as foreshadowing here?
Well, as I’ve stated in previous posts, I think it is telling that while the Boy in the story did love the Warrior, it is ultimately a tragic, doomed love that was never meant to be.
And more than that, the story notably only gives us the perspective of the boy, and never the Warrior. And likewise, we never learn how the Warrior truly felt about the boy. She clearly cared about him, enough to consider him something of a friend, but did she feel about him like he felt about her? The story never makes this clear, and I think that in and of itself is rather telling: Despite the boy’s attempts to reach out to her, the Warrior maintains her distance. Whatever growing care or affection she might have felt for the boy, it clearly wasn’t nearly enough to get her to break her isolation or duty to safeguard the village in secret. While the boy may have loved the Warrior, it was a love that in all likelihood, could not and was not returned.
So when we apply this to Taiyang, Summer and Raven, a rather bleak picture emerges: That Tai’s relationships with Raven or Summer were NEVER going to work out. Or that neither Summer NOR Raven actually loved Tai in the same way he loved either of them.
And the thing is, this IS supported even by what little we have seen of Tai, Summer and Raven. Just like in the story, we have been told of Tai’s love for Summer and Raven, yet told precious little of how either of THEM felt about Tai. And what little we HAVE been told or shown has left it rather questionable how either of them cared for Tai.
Raven has made it clear that she cares little for Taiyang in the present, which really raises the question of how or if the two were ever in a relationship in the past. And while the existence of Yang might imply some kind of relationship, let’s also consider the possibility that Yang was actually an unplanned pregnancy. The result of a possible drunken, one-night-stand between Raven and Tai. Which would certainly put Raven’s reluctance to be a mother in a VERY different context.
Then we have Summer, and thanks to Ruby’s tree-vision, I think we can count her feelings for Taiyang as being at best ‘ambiguous’.
For one, as I’ve stated elsewhere, Summer’s scene with Taiyang is curiously lacking in especially overt romantic gestures. A lack of noticeable flirting or particularly romantic physical acts like a kiss. They do hug, but as I’ve said before, RWBY has used these close, intimate hugs just as much if not more often to convey platonic or familial affection. Note also that Taiyang is the one to clearly initiate the hug, not Summer
More than any of that, it’s clear that Summer is putting on an act for Tai in this scene. In the scene she is clearly pensive and uncertain and maybe even afraid, but the moment Tai walks in, Summer immediately adopts a mask of ‘everything is normal, don’t worry about anything’. Which calls into question how much of anything Summer does/says in this exchange is truly genuine, and how much is simply an act for Tai’s benefit.
Summer clearly does not trust Taiyang with the truth of what she is ACTUALLY doing. And the clear ease with which Summer assumes this mask implies that this is likely far from the first time Summer has done this.
Just compare Summer’s scene with Tai to both her previous scene with the sleeping Ruby and Yang, and her following scene with Raven; both showing Summer not putting on any kind of act for anyone else.
Most notably, despite whatever resentment she might feel towards Raven for leaving them (or perhaps just leaving her), Summer clearly trusts Raven, more than ANYONE, with helping her on this mission she considered so vitally important.
Summer certainly cared for Taiyang, that much is clear. Otherwise she wouldn’t put so much effort into reassuring him that everything was fine.
But did she love Tai in way that he loved her? Or was it simply a role she went along with for his, and possibly more-so Ruby’s and Yang’s benefit? Given the clear emotional mask and barrier we see her put up when around Tai, I would call the answer, at BEST, ambiguous.
Which all ties perfectly into what we see in The Warrior in the Woods.
The boy in the story, who is presented as looking just like Tai, loved a mysterious but noble warrior, who is presented as looking like Raven AND Summer. But the love the boy felt could not or was not returned and the warrior would instead vanish into the night. Just like Summer and Raven did.
Oh, and the ending of the story match-cutting a shot of the ‘cross between Summer and Raven’ Warrior to a shot of Ruby who likewise has a lot of visual similarities to Raven as well as Summer MIGHT be hinting at something too…
#rwby#rwby analysis#rwby theory#rwby fairy tales of remnant#rwby the warrior in the woods#Summer Rose#Raven Branwen#taiyang xiao long#Ruby Rose#narrative parallels#i think not enough people appreciate just how LITTLE we actually KNOW about ruby's and yang's parents#rosebird parents theory#yeah i couldn't resist slipping in a bit of rosebird parents theorizing XD
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Finale -> Lyney
plot: you and lyney can't really "agree" on the terms of your sudden breakup.
(cws: yandere!lyney, gn!darling, good ol' male manipulating, jealousy & cheating accusations, threats, crying, breakup angst w/ fluffy ending)
wc: 2k
It generally took very little for Lyney to find issue with something you'd done. Your partner was not callous or cruel by any means–in fact, he was often quite kind and caring, moreso than most others you'd met in your day-to-day life.
But if he was anything, Lyney was, well…devoted. Dedicated might be a more professional word, but the devotion of Fontaine's most prominent magician could not be understated nor ignored. Lyney was a performer, an artist, a man of great talent and greater loyalty, and nothing on the soil of Teyvat–not an ocean nor a rippling puddle–could tear him away from someone he proclaimed to love and adore. Nor would he ever allow someone he had devoted himself to be ripped from his embrace.
That was exactly where you found yourself now. The breakup had not gone well…Lyney had taken it quite badly. If the tears and desperate pleas for you not to leave weren't enough, the begging and tugging on your sleeves as he tried not to let you step away from him was simply too much to bear. He switched from devastation to fury in moments, flipping between one and another like an absolute crazed madman. He swapped between sobbing, begging to know what he'd done to ordering you through spiteful tears to tell him who the “other man” was, as if he were flipping one of his coveted playing cards. He grew so unhinged so quickly even Lynette had to get between the two of you to calm him down, and it just made it so much more of an ugly mess.
“Please, just think about it. My brother really loves you. Can't you two work it out?” Her words had come from a loving place, you knew, but it was simply not in the cards for you any longer.
You'd long grown sick of Lyney's jealousies, his possessiveness, his hunger for you that overwhelmed all common sense at all the wrong times and places. He wouldn't give you space and he wouldn't take no for an answer whenever you swore you would never leave him. It was his own fault that you had to go back on all those promises he never believed.
Now, all you had to do was pack your things. Lynette had graciously let you know when he was supposed to be out so you could come and collect them in peace, without starting another argument. But so very like her; she neglected to tell you that she'd also informed Lyney of when you were coming, and by the time you stepped into his room your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. It was instantly too late to leave. You sighed, and your former lover's ears perked up as he sat back on his chair by the desk. Clearly, he had stayed to wait up for you.
“...And where is this attitude coming from?” He bit at you with a snark that had never before been directed at you in particular. You elected simply to say nothing; it would be best for both of you not to say a word. So while he stewed in his own feelings across the room, you shuffled over to the wardrobe right by the door and started stuffing things into the bag you'd brought, whatever you could reach. His violet eyes glowed with frustration, burning holes right through your back like lasers.
“Don't, Lyney. Please.” Your timid voice interrupted the tense silence that followed. At once you felt the air shift, and heard the sigh of Lyney behind you that warned you of an impending change of heart. Him being angry at you was all a farce. In truth he hated to show any irritation towards you at all, and even in relatively harmless fights he would always end up folding much sooner than you ever thought to as he despised not having your favour. The creak of the chair echoed in the small chamber, as did his footsteps as he methodically made his way towards you. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Your fingers twitched as he took in a breath just a hair's length from your neck.
“I miss the scent you always leave on my pillow…” He muttered quietly. You said nothing. He took a strand of your hair between his gloved fingers, and it took everything within you not to cringe in anticipation of him ripping it out of your head. “I tried to use the soap you wash it with, but it just smells like nothing without you. It's not even worth the money.” He leaned forward, eyes closed, and delicately pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck.
Oh. Why had you let him do that? Why were you letting him still get closer, his chest and his hips meeting yours from behind? You didn't even make a move to flinch at the contact, and that was all that would have stopped Lyney if you had the guts to do it.
Perhaps the answer was obvious. You didn't want him to pull away.
“...You know, if you come back to me, I'll buy it for you from now on.” Now came the bargaining again. Lyney's hands moved upwards to brace your hips, and although you moved your own palm over one of them, your muscles still refused to contract and tug his off of you. Lyney slowly started to sway with you, taking hold of you like a little porcelain doll to posture as he pleased. This dance was so familiar–he would do this every time you stood at any counter, and distract you from whatever you were doing–and it was the nostalgia, you realized, that was stopping you.
“Lyney, we're broken up.” Your lip wobbled while you swung that truth at him like a weapon. But he seemed…unaffected. His words had no tinge of hurt nor malice like they had before.
“We can get back together.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “All this will go away. I can make all the bad things go away. I can get rid of whoever's pulling you from me-”
“Lyney, I told you there was nobody else.” You broke away from his touch, away from those fingers that crept down your sides and the hug he'd been holding you in from behind. You stepped away and turned to face him, your conviction still not as unwavering now that you'd allowed yourself a moment to bask in Lyney's attention.
“And I told you that you're a damned liar, sweetheart.” Lyney suddenly spoke through gritted teeth, though his smile remained albeit much more tense and nowhere near the vicinity of reaching his eyes. “I'm sure it was that ginger rat that was sniffing around you, but I told you, I've already forgiven you. Plus, he's out of the picture–there's nothing keeping us apart anymore.”
“Lyney, stop! Can you just stop? Why can't you ever just believe me when I tell you anything?” The huff in your tone barely moved the needle for Lyney this time. He was clearly too wrapped up in the gleam of your eyes and the soft press of your lips together as you spoke to take in anything you were saying.
“You're so beautiful when you're angry.”
“You're not listening to me.”
“Kiss me.”
How many times had your arguments culminated into this? Into Lyney grabbing your waist against your will, all smiles and teasing giggles, as he blew puffs of air against your skin until your composure broke? He darted forward with eager lips to try and catch you, just barely backing you into the wardrobe, and on the third try he actually cracked your facade–his desperate kissy sounds and gentle tickling actually made you laugh. Really laugh, for the first time in what felt like ages. And for perhaps the first time, he didn't claim his prize once he figured he'd won. He stood back, hands still gripping you gently, and just watched as you laughed and snorted at how bad his aim was. “Just like always,” You said, and that part hit a nerve within him.
“Come back to me.” He faced you with a serious disposition yet again, and although you balked and rolled your eyes at the moment growing tense yet again, he persisted. “Let's forget this. I'll do better.”
“No you won't, Lyney.” You sighed. “You never change.”
“I will for you.” He swore, moving closer to keep your gaze as if losing it would mean losing this battle he was fighting so hard. “I'll change. I'll be better. I'll do anything for you. Anything.”
“Will you? Change, I mean?” You hesitated even to ask, but Lyney did more than answer. He dropped to his knees right there, his hat tumbled away and off to the side. He wouldn't look up at you with anything but doe eyes, his chin resting snugly against your soft stomach as he held your waist in his arms from below.
“I love you more than life itself. I'll be a better man, I swear. I'll change. I'll change right now! I won't…I won't ever doubt you again.” He nuzzled his face deeper into your belly. He clearly must have missed you at least twice as much as you expected, since he seemed to shudder in pure bliss at just the warmth of your skin through your clothes–a reprieve you had no idea he wanted to claw his eyes out over the fear of losing. He spoke again from the muffled depths of your shirt. “Just come back to me. I'm sorry I never believed you when you said you wouldn't leave. I won't hold it against you–I drove you away, didn't I? It's my fault. I-I deserve it, but I…” He sniffled, and turned his cheek to your stomach instead to keep from soiling your clothes with his tears. “...I just want you back. I feel like I can't breathe without you, my darling. Please come back, and I'll fix everything.”
And in the midst of so many conflicting feelings, you stood there and let him cry. Although this time was brief and much less charged than when you'd first broken up with him, in this moment you let your body move on its own to soothe his pained woes. Your fingers slid through his blond locks and stroked him, trailing over his scalp in waves that instantly calmed Lyney down. You fidgeted with the ends of his hair with your other hand as well, mindlessly combing through those messy stray hairs that you always watched him tuck back into place before a performance. You did love Lyney. As much as you wanted to hate his attitude towards your separation, you could only feel sympathy now–it was a dangerous game you were playing with someone as manipulative as he could be, but you didn't know that, at least not well. You had no idea that even now, those gentle sobs were nothing but crocodile tears.
Lyney did well to shield you from all that. And when your knees started to buckle, and your strong will began showing cracks, your ex-lover went in for the kill with one last, yearning look up at you, eyes glistening with fresh tears.
“Please, baby?”
You were finished. The words didn't even register as they tumbled out of your mouth–all you knew was that in a moment, Lyney was up on his feet and he was hugging you tight, nearly crushing your bones as he promised ad nauseum that he wouldn't waste this precious chance. He would be better, he would do better, he would listen and be more attentive and not be so pushy–and though you only believed half of those promises in the moment, the desperation with which he kissed you and the squeeze of his arms trapping you in a tearful hug inflated some sense of belonging within you.
At least with Lyney you felt wanted. You felt desired, needed, not like a piece of furniture or a token but as someone who literally laid the ground for him to walk on. He wouldn't dare breathe an ounce of air if you weren't around to give him a reason to. And as bad as it might turn out to be when the people closest to you start going missing….at the very least, the man who refuses to live without you will only get closer and closer to your side, desperate to earn that approval of yours that he coveted more than all the Mora in the gods' universe.
#lyney#lyney x reader#lyney genshin#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact#ellie writes#2k#(& yes i finally got to fontaine quests & lost my mind over this twink)
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