#maybe. maybe i will do that. or maybe i'll see if i can organize a collab of some kind....that would be fun too
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Yours Truly, Pink Kryptonite
Supergirl. Kara Danvers x Reader!, Alex Danvers, Lena Luthor
Word Count: 3003.
"As you can see here, we'll start this presentation with an overview of the current business –" You look out the window to see Supergirl staring at you and waving excitedly. "landscape, and, um, the importance of embracing innovation."
You look around, making sure no one is paying attention to the Kryptonian calling out for you from the other side of the window. What the hell could she possibly want right in the middle of your most important work presentation ever?
You obviously know Kara does a lot of things, but working 9 to 5 isn't one of them. She runs off from CatCo whenever she wants or has an emergency.
Emergency! God, there must be an emergency!
Your mouth dries, and your eyes widen. "Or, you know, everyone knows this." You look at your boss, furrowing his brows at you. "We know our company and where we stand. So instead of wasting our time with the introduction, why don't we just skip to –" You press the control skipping through basically half of your presentation. "the expansion to new markets. And who better to talk about that than my team! I'll leave it to you guys, and will answer to this very important call from our program developer. We know he hates to wait. I'm sorry. I have to –"
You slip out of the conference room, heart on your throat, completely unaware of what you just said in there.
Supergirl meets you at the balcony of your office with a wide smile. "Kara!" You close the door behind you, looking around you to make sure no one is paying attention or seeing the both of you through glassy walls. "What's the emergency?"
Kara tilts her head to the sides, like a confused puppy. "Emergency?"
You touch her arms, looking for something that could explain why she is here in the middle of the day. "Yes! I mean, isn't there an emergency?"
"Not that I'm aware of." She smiles widely.
It's your turn to master your most confused face. "Then why are you here?"
"Oh!" Kara lets go of your arm, and puts a lock of your hair behind your ear. "I came to ask you out."
"What?"
"On a date! Tonight!" You're still looking at her like you haven't got the faintest idea of what's going on. "Maybe lunch?" She tries to get a different reaction. "Now?"
You look around. This must be a prank. Is someone filming this? Is today April Fools? Surely not.
"You're not saying no." Her smile brightens up, like this is the most amazing thing that's ever happened. "So that means I can fly the hottest woman out of here right now?"
"What?" You repeat, yet again, baffled by everything that is happening. "You can't. I — I'm working."
"And you sounded so smart in that board meeting, baby."
"Baby?" You whisper to yourself, more confused now than before. If that's even possible.
"But work is boring," Kara strokes your cheek lightly. "and you're honestly so pretty that I'm sure you'd never have to work if you wanted. Oh! You know what, we should do that!"
"Never work again?" You ask and she agrees enthusiastically. "It's not like you do anyways." You try a little joke and Kara laughs like you just said the funniest thing in the universe.
She composes herself, after a loud snort. "Ok. So you're smart, and pretty, and hot and funny. Golly, how did I get so lucky to get you to go on a date with little old me?"
You open your mouth a couple of times, but keep your comments to yourself. She is literally Supergirl; You never said yes to any date; and WHAT THE HELL! Are some of the things you refrain from saying.
"Kara, I have to go back to work. This presentation is really important." You point to the door and she agrees, once again, vividly with her head.
"Ok, ok. But lunch?"
"I can't. I have a meeting with the developer." She pouts like a child, and you can't say no to her. Not when she looks so adorable. You breathe deep. "Dinner."
Kara bites her lower lip, holding back a huge smile. "Dinner is perfect. I'll organize everything, and you just have to go and be pretty, which is basically what you do all day anyways."
You furrow your brows one more time and agree with a nod. You make your way to the door, and make a mental note to call Alex and ask her what the hell!
"Hey baby," You look over your shoulders and back at her one more time. "Your butt looks awesome in this outfit."
"Thanks?" While your face burns red in embarrassment.
You spend the rest of the day trying to concentrate on your work, but you can't really because you need to understand what happened between you and Kara this morning.
Sure, you two are used to a little bit of flirting. Subtle and awfully vague. Just little jokes that usually makes Kara completely uncomfortable, and makes her blush in no time. And now, just out of fucking nowhere, she is calling you baby and asking you out on dates?
You: hey! Kara's a bit off today. Something happened?
Alex 🌈: oh, yeah. Pink Kryptonite. Why?
You: great! One more! What does this one do?
Alex 🌈: not sure. Just discovered it. Send me a list of symptoms.
A list of symptoms. Ok. You can do this. 1. She looked extremely happy. But that's not a symptom. 2. She had the courage to ask you out. Could that be a symptom? No. Surely not. Asking people out is not a symptom of being exposed to kryptonite. 3. She called you baby. Yeah, you don't have a list.
You: IDK, just weird. We'll meet up later and I'll try to investigate further.
Alex 🌈: great! Will do the same from here.
Not good enough. You look down on your phone one more time. Change conversations.
You: hey! did you happen to see Kara today?
Lena the witch: Yeah…
You: everything alright?
Lena the witch: If by alright you mean weird, then sure.
You: weird how?
Lena the witch: She spent the entire duration of our lunch saying you butt looked great today.
You: got it ✨super weird✨.
Lena the witch: What's up with that?
You: unsure. will let you know as soon as I figure it out.
You get ready for your date. It feels weird thinking about it. You've been kinda flirting kinda joking with Kara for a long while. You never thought this was going anywhere. It's not like you didn't want it to happen, but Kara Danvers is not gay. Which is unfortunate for you.
Except today she was the gayest of the gays. Queen of the lesbians. So you can't help but look in the mirror one more time, before saying out loud this time, "What the hell!"
Of course you like the idea of you and Kara going on a date, but it feels hard to enjoy this when it is so sudden and out of the blue. Just yesterday when you were leaving the Tower late at night and said goodbye with a simple, 'see you later handsome', Kara blushed so hard, she lost all her words and stumbled on her own two feet on the way out the elevator. How was she so smooth this morning?
You open the door, after the doorbell rings once. Kara is on the other side, the brightest smile on her face and flowers on her hands. "Hey baby."
You blush furiously. Can't keep your body in check, no matter how much you want to not enjoy this moment before you find out exactly what's going on with Kara.
"You look incredible. You always look incredible." She makes sure, a thumb sliding on your cheek delicately. And it's only the second time she's done this, and you're already addicted to it. "Oh, I brought your favorite flowers."
You look at it, bite your lower lip and hold your breath. She looks beautiful. Like an angel in front of you. Blonde waves cascading down her shoulders, blue eyes as bright as the day sky, smile as wide and white as possible, and she is here holding your favorite flowers. How the hell are you going to resist her?
"Thanks, baby.” God, no! What are you doing? No flirting!
You turn around, putting the flowers on a vase, and trying to keep your hands and yourself busy so you don't jump on her and kiss her senseless. "Hey, what does Pink Kryptonite do?"
"Um, Pink Kryptonite?" Kara plays coy and you don't even have to look behind yourself to know she is smoothing her hand over her vest, right after touching her glasses. "Where did you see that?"
"Well, baby," You turn around to face her. "it seems that you've been exposed to it." Kara's mouth drops, not knowing what to say. You close the distance. "And believe me, I'm loving what's happening here, but I need to know if this is you or the kryptonite talking. So, what does it do?"
"It turns Kryptonians alittlegay." She mumbles under her breath, and it is only with much effort from your part that you understand it.
Your face drops. "Right."
It's not like you're shocked about her revelation, she was acting like the lesbian jesus right after being exposed to a hot new type of kryptonite (why so many?). You breathe out, looking at the flowers and trying to ignore your selfish heart and desire to just go along with it.
"You should go."
"What?" Kara's eyes get full of tears. "But, the dinner."
"You're not in love with a woman, Kara. The effects of the kryptonite will fade and you'll regret this whole thing. So before we do something that can ruin our friendship, you should go."
A tear falls from her eye, and she bites her lower lip to keep herself from crying out loud. Your heart is squeezing in your chest and you're having to summon all of your strength to keep going with this and not just simply kiss her better.
"But that's not it." She tries, sounding small and in pain.
"Kara, it's ok." It's your turn to stroke her cheek lovingly and carefully, wiping the single tear away. "It was fun, but it isn't you. And for this to happen, I need to be you. Ok?" You're explaining yourself with caution, almost as if you're talking to a child. She agrees with her head, slowly, looking small in her tall body. "Don't worry. It will wear off soon, and you'll be yourself again. And you’ll be glad this didn’t happen." You kiss her cheek and give her a wistful smile.
Kara makes her way out of your apartment, crestfallen and so disheartened you almost feel bad. You take a deep breath. She'll be fine. She'll thank you for this when she wakes up free of the Pink Kryptonite.
Gee, a kryptonite that turns them gay. What the hell was going on in Krypton? But also, you wish you were there. The parties must have been wild.
You turn around in your bed, the flowers that Kara brought keep haunting you, because you decided to put them right next to your bed. You sit up, rubbing your face awake. Why the hell did you kick Kara out the door? It could've happened! It could finally have happened! Why didn't you take advantage of it?
Oh yeah. Yours truly, Pink Kryptonite. Ugh. She didn't really want you, she was just gay for a day. You roll your eyes to yourself. Now you'll just have to live with the awkwardness and the desire while you're around her. Great.
You hear a light tap on the glass and you let out a shit-scare scream, only to see Supergirl flying on the other side of your window. You hear a soft, "sorry." when she realizes how shaken you got.
You open the window to find a glowing Supergirl, and it doesn't take much deducing to understand she's been under the yellow sun bed for a while.
"I flew as close as I could to the sun." She explains, still on the other side, but it's quick to make her way inside. "The yellow sun emulators are alright, but there's nothing better than the real thing."
"Yeah." It's all you can say.
"I wanted to get rid of the Pink Kryptonite as fast as possible." Kara explains it further, and finally puts her glass back so she can change back into her normal clothes. "I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I heard you were still up. I wanted to apologize."
"Whoa, I knew you'd regret it, but God that was fast. Must be some kind of new record for me." You sit back on your bed with a loud sigh.
"No, no." Kara is quick to follow you, kneeling in front of you and holding your hand. "I wanted to apologize for waiting for the kryptonite to finally show me what my life could've been like if I had a little bit of courage."
"Kara, you are the epitome of courage."
"No, I'm not. I've been wanting to ask you out for months and haven't got the courage." She confesses. "Do you know how many times I almost called you baby these past few weeks?"
"You said Pink Kryptonite turns Kryptonian gays." She shakes her head agreeing. "For you to be turned into something, you can't already be that something."
"It turned me extra gay."
You bite your lip to hold back a laugh, but she's not scared of showing you her wide smile. "Let me show you."
"Show me what?"
Kara perches up, thumb sliding across your cheek until her hand cups your face. "Let me show you that it wasn't the Pink Kryptonite that turned me gay." She brings your face closer. "Let me show you how you were the one that did it."
"Are you sure this isn't the Pink Kryptonite talking?"
"I'll tell you what," Her breath is hot in your mouth, and you're holding your own breath in anticipation. "why don't we go to sleep and when we wake up you can ask me again?"
"Ok." But your resolution is weakening by the minute, especially after she spoons you in bed and places a little goodnight kiss on your neck.
You wake up with more flowers and breakfast in bed. Kara has a warm smile, and she looks so damn beautiful just fresh out of bed it's annoying.
"Good morning, baby." She holds your face between her hands, thumb caressing your cheek in the way that makes your heart flutter. She’s obviously able to hear it.
You swallow deep. "Is this you or the Pink Kryptonite?"
"Why don't you ask me again after work?" Kara says feeding you a strawberry, and you agree weakly with your head.
She shows up at lunch time, and holds your smelly tuna sandwich out of your reach, convincing you that you deserve better food. She has it all set out on your balcony, a whole picnic that makes all of your colleagues so jealous of your lunch date. Little do they know she actually flew to Italy for that pasta.
And it's another thumb stroke and another, "Is this the Pink Kryptonite?" question that makes her head tilt a little bit farther and she reaches the corner of your mouth, instead of your lips.
"Ask me again at our dinner tonight."”
After work pick-ups and holding hands and perhaps it's Pink Kryptonite. Flowers and dinner dates and maybe it's just the exposure. Movie nights and cuddles and what if it is still turning you gay. Slow dancing to the TV light and thumbs slowly stroking your cheeks and why don't you ask again tomorrow. And that goes on for weeks.
Alex texts you that Kara was exposed to real Kryptonite this time. You know, not the one that turns her into the queen of gays, but the one that turns her bones into flaming hot goo. You run to the Tower and watch her unawake under the yellow sunlight.
"Hey, it's ok." Alex holds your shoulder while you cry. "She'll be fine. A few hours under the sun and she's good as new."
"What?"
"Yeah, the effects of the kryptonite aren't lasting. It wears off if we deal with it fast."
"With all of the different types?" You furrow your brows at her and Alex agrees with her head.
Well, haven't you been wasting precious time?
You run into the medbay, and sit beside her bed. Like clockwork, a couple hours later, Kara's eyes open and she looks at you on the other side. "Hey baby."
"Oh my God, baby!" You run to her, not caring about anyone on the other side of the glass that might be able to see you both. You throw yourself at her, kissing her entire face. "You scared me."
She smiles widely. "And would do it again to have you kissing my face like that."
You hold her face between your hands, and slide your thumb across her cheek. "Don't you dare." She smiles, but soon her eyes widen when she realizes what's coming next. You meet her lips with yours softly. But soon she deepens the kiss, and next thing you know she's pulling you up the bed while sitting herself up. You’re full on sitting on her lap, while your lips crash and tongues slide and hands explore visible skin. And honestly, the yellow sunlight doesn’t help when you’re body already feels like it is on fire.
Kara parts the kiss for some air, and looks at you with full-blown pupils. "Is this you or Pink Kryptonite?"
You roll your eyes and give her a chuckle. "Shut up and kiss me again before I think the Green Kryptonite is also turning you gay."
Kara’s tongue is almost inside your mouth again when you hear a yell from the other side of the glass.
"NO! Absolutely not! We can see everything!” Kara is quick to move her hands out of your butt. “That was more than enough!"
Alex's face is red from yelling, Lena's face is red from embarrassment, and Nia's cellphone case is red from all the pictures she's been taking.
"Keep going! I'm gonna turn these into GIFs!"
You and Kara look at each other, "We should go." "Yeah."
So Kara was right, it wasn't the exposure that turned her gay. Still you do appreciate yours truly, Pink Kryptonite, because at least it gave her courage to be her true gay self.
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i don't really know how to word this but like i feel like i'm gonna forever have to deal with the pain and heartache of one of my very first pokémon games- the first 'normal' pokémon game i've ever played, that i will have lasting nostalgia and love for as a result of it being formative to my introduction into the series- being the one that will forever be looked down upon for bad graphics and technical issues as a result of the game having been rushed
like i honest to goodness want to scream and yell and cry into the void about how this means everything to me and will always be one of my fave games just in general. but how am i gonna do that without someone being like 'the broken overpriced mess? the one that's missing all this stuff from the older games that was great? the thing with all the cringe? that one?' or whatever. and the thing is they aren't wrong for their criticisms either like i know the fact that they rushed this wonderful game hardcore is a massive stain on its reputation and it hurts me too but like i cannot turn off the brain full of love in me and be a mean critic. or even an impartial one. i mean i criticize everything i love don't get me wrong i am constantly running my mouth about what i like and don't like. but at the end of the day i approach all media with an unusually optimistic mindset. if you see me talk a ton about something no matter what i'm saying you can bet it means i love it.
just. aaagh. it's always tough being a new fan of an old series. i'm like too embarrassed to express my opinions bc i feel like they're invalid y'know? i feel so exhausted every time i see something to the effect of like 'oh those poor kids these days having to deal with such bad quality everything what a bad time to be a fan of pokémon wow y'all make me feel so old' well see the thing is i actually am thriving and i love it here. and i'm also an adult myself so i have more critical thinking skills than people who played red when they were like five years old did. and even with the power of critical thinking i manage to be in love with this. join me in marvelling at the beauty of life
#sorry for the massive rant i am full of both love and rage but i feel alone in this world about this particular subject#my other fav complaint is like 'they make it too easy to xyz these days'#to me that reads like 'i suffered so why shouldn't they'#yes we should encourage people to spend 100 hours grinding to do basic story requirements.#to weed out the true gamers from the weaklings. or maybe we could use the spare time in our lives to touch grass#the only easy-fication change in sv i don't like is the ability to access boxes right from the menu#that kinda cheapens the need to strategically organize a team before heading somewhere#i can.. sorta understand being miffed about the remember moves mechanic?#frankly platinum was so stressful with not being able to freely switch without great hassle/cost#it would have been a fair enough compromise to make you pay a bit of lp or something#or do it for free but having to go to like a pokécenter or something#i'll never agree that exp share is bad though sorry#pokémon#ok but about the 'i feel bad for kids these days with these ugly designs/lame 3D models' thing#yeah i have news for you every gen has its ugly/stupid pokémon.#dude look at exeggcute#and some of the oldest spritework is hideous#granted the ds era spritework was beautiful#but i don't see what is so bad about the 3D models of today? they're both nice...#dude play an indie game or something if it's that important to you idk#it will never be the 90s again. it will never be the 00s again. i'm sorry.
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i got the urge to lore dump now, especially after what i brainstormed last night, but i'm just... where do i start
#i haven't spoken about the spirit realm in dorverold yet and i feel like i need to kinda talk about that first before i get into#sunna's brother BUT then again maybe i can start with him and then get into specifics about the spirit realm and endir's castle#and how the afterlife functions and all that#my brain is kinda jumping around from thing to thing bc i'm getting sleepy and i'm having a hard time deciding on stuff#thinking about my lore is exciting but then i deflate at the thought of trying to decide where to start and how long the post might get#i don't mind long posts but i do worry about like?? organizing my thoughts rn#and the dash is slow which is kinda good bc that means less distraction but that also means i can't ask y'all where to focus :' )#maybe i'll just bury myself in drafts for the moment and see if i perk up after my coffee uvu#get ready to ramble | ooc
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at ml instead
#logbook#woke up this morning to the weather having changed 😔 it showed rainsnow today wnd not thurs. NOW its swapped back and also 3° low ew#anyways i didnt wanna risk it at 5am so i drove here instead. i was thinking i'd just work like 4 hrs maybe 5 and then leave.#do a 10-2. save 2hrs for another day. like tmrw or fri or even sat maybe.#idk this week is funky dunky with the weather#and i have to drive so far to reach hl it drives me nuts. this isnjot new i complain abt it every time lol.#anyways i see i can consolidate some racks and organize houseplants. i'll stretch it out for a biy.#hopefully c comes in today. then that'd make time fly.
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genuinely very :( because i looked at the doesthedogdie page for the sandman and here we are yet again w the excessive gore !!!! i am so fsjdfjkl tired of it!!! i cannot watch it now bc wowzas there is. a lot of shit in there. RIP me and my sensitive little snowflake soul i guess :/
#rly frustrated w myself that i can't watch any mainstream shit these days bc everything has just disgusting amounts of gore#i can do violence and blood and even the occasional internal organ#but GOD. so much of this stuff is incredibly realistic (which is cool i guess! but why!!) and its just. Overkill honestly#im just fhsdhghsgjkl why cant i be normal and desensitized to all of it#why do i have to be such a fucking wimp about it#also i can't even do much for blood these days bc my brain will see it and start fixating on relapsing in SH lmao#genuinely feel like such a fucking wuss and like i just should not be allowed to live bc i'm such a fucking idiot abt things jdsfjkl#anyways. lowkey upset bc it looks like such a cool concept and plotline but of COURSE i cannot handle shit in it#because EVERY cool show these days has to have excessive gore and suicide/SH implications/references#fucking tired of it. make better shows honestly fjsfjkl#but then also maybe im being a prude so idk#i feel like a wuss and i also feel like maybe im right but also maybe im just being a prude and killing art by criticizing this#so. who the fuck knows. im tired and i cannot have a single thought anymore without picking it apart into little pieces#self harm mention#suicide mention#ALSO HI LOL DID YOU MISS ME VENTING ON HERE :))))) IM SO SORRY THAT IM BACK i'll try to stay quiet more though lol
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hmm have to decide what to do today hard to pick when the world is at my fingertips and all. its difficult being bright and young and beautiful in the city
#unseasonably light courseload this week with both school and work so i have all this free time. really not sure what to do w myself#get ahead on homework i guess so i can be free this weekend but thats a little boring#and then what would i even do with the free time this weekend#despite the importance of his project boy came over to see me for a couple hours yesterday bc hes very nice 2 me#but i probably actually wont see him today. maybe I'll go get trading card binder inserts so i can organize my pokemon cards#the autism wins today i guess
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what do u mean the tasks i didn't write down and that i did more than once don't count to be checked off bc i didn't write them down
#i use habitica and have only recently been using the to do list#i'd usually just sort of be like yeah i'll press this button if i did smtn#which didn't get me shit bc i think every task is marked as easy#and i'd just press it twice if i did smtn more difficult#as opposed to like. having a checklist that gets u more points#but now i gotta add MORE things bc i ended up doing a shit ton of work that wasn't exactly what i had written#and i STILL#have to redo some things#bc we're been perpetually moving for years and i have my stuff packed away#i only have a cardboard box of clothes at a time depending on the season#with everything else in a bigger container#but not only can i not see anything i own so i don't know what i have AND i only wear what's on the top layer in the box#i now have a bunch of stuff that im like ok i cant currently wear this bc i dont have a bra for it#so maybe i'll put all that in a reuseable shopping bag and put it upstairs instead of with the winter and summer clothes#but god it's hell going up and down the stairs w my knee#and rn my back from bending over and my ovaries from my period lol#so i took an advil and am chilling#then i'll take my art supplies upstairs excluding what i work with every day#and maybe organize it#and then do clothes Again tomorrow? bc i think i'm hurting too much to do it again#even if it's the task i want to get done
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it has taken me an entire Month of being in a semi-stable environment to even be able to start Thinking about what I'm gonna' do with Rum Red....... lol
#have some ideas!!!#reuploaded all the done pages so far to a new website..#and organized all the draft content I have. up to ch12#it's all so flawed lol!!! it's all so flawed and so messy but so cool and so exciting.#for the sake of completing the entire draft up to ch15... I'm going to see if I can make it even MORE flawed#and also maybe... get the most important animatics done. for fun!!! I love making animatics#and because I Need them to exist. psychologically and spiritually NEED. regardless what I do with the rest#and from there I guess I'll... see if I can bring what I have up to any kind of sharable standard!#rum red#fleur txt
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AND HERE COMES MONKEY D LUFFY WITH A STEEL CHAIR
#brain conjured up another facet that split from me just to be separated off <3#glad for him though. its good to have him in here#mole n earring might be temporary who know. he is still very much me but not but yes but no.#he is. very good for us. especially the strawhats.#he is also fragmented and cant front for very long but. kind of a good thing for now#he fronted for too long today and almost blewd up#ANYWAYS. room organized. melatonin TAKEN. list of stuff i can do tomorrow written down on whiteboard.#TEETH BRUSHED ❗❗❗#i know it was a silly joke but kid writing ''brush yer fuckin teeth'' on my hand really made me want to do it regularly#i see my toothbrush and if i think ''nah i dont want to'' i then think of kid. writing his message for me#in all caps in expo marker and go. ''yeah. i'll do it for him. why not.'' then my teeths are clean. and its awesome#ok goodnight. gonna tuck in..... . .. . . .#i cant wait to sleep for 11 hours. i need it.#i need a good amnt of sleep i havent slept well in a Bit and i got an aura bc of it#not to mention the STRESS#chilling out now though#miss my friends i want to make them a meal and sit on the couch.#maybe under a blanket. is this too much to ask.#RS.txt#-⛅
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Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.
I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?
I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!
okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:
if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.
that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...
context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.
the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).
but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.
a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.
this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.
okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.
but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.
bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!
but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.
and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.
he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.
so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:
"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving.
but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do.
the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee.
i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't!
but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."
and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.
i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."
you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.
and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.
in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way
and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!
also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.
by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.
but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.
we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."
but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.
i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.
i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.
and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.
so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:
why does she have a prosthesis?
from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?
and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???
i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.
and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:
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the aftermath of being turned into an ex jujutsu kaisen — gojo satoru.
gojo's a man of commitment. if rounding up a ‘band’ to serenade you into taking him back is what'll do the trick, then he'll organize it.
+ extra. this is meant to be unserious dont attack me for mischaracterization n shi 😞
“we're done.”
“we are not!”
in the end, he got kicked out. due to the shame he felt by being kicked out of a house he once lived in, satoru actually leaves. don't party too soon though, he's going to come back within five hours.
the plan he had in mind was simple: go to the department store, buy some roses, a poster, led lights, a table, some chocolates, and hire a band. for this the budget will be endless.
you thought you got rid of satoru but little did you know that he still has his share of keys. with that trick up his sleeve, he unlocks the gate, sneaking in everyone and the props.
satoru wasn't able to hire a band, but he was able to get a substitute. you see, todo, inumaki, and yuuji have hidden talents. they can all play instruments and one can sing! he always knew there was a reason why he's proud of his students.
quietly, the four men set the stage that's actually your front yard. in the center holds the white table with a black satin cloth delicately placed on it. the three bouquets of roses sit beautifully on the table. some petals were picked out and carefully spotted as well. on the table's center held the chocolate and wine — your favourite wine, to be exact. the finishing touch is the led lights. they're circling the ground, illuminating it with a soft yellow glow.
at the right and left sides of the table are inumaki and yuuji. inumaki's holding a wooden guitar while yuuji holds the hand drum. todo's position is in front of the table but a little off-center. he's holding the microphone, ready to pour his heart out on the song.
the star, satoru, is the one in the center. one hand hides behind his back. it's holding another rose bouquet with hundred-dollar bills wrapped with the roses. his free hand holds his phone. as soon as the clock strikes 7:00PM, he's going to call you. everything should play out perfectly.
anxiously watching his wristwatch switch from 6:59 to 7:00, he immediately calls you. one, two, three, six rings later you answered.
“you. i forgot to block you.”
“excuse me?” satoru scoffs, “whatever, i'm not calling for that.”
“chop chop then. i don't have all night.”
“can you come outside?”
“no. i will be calling the police.”
“OH C'MON,” he whines, getting desperate. “please? after this i'll leave you alone. promise.”
“...”
yuuji painfully watches. he feels incredibly sorry for his teacher. he doesn't deserve this!
“i don't think this is going good,” yuuji whispers to the boys, moving his head side-to-side.
todo raises his fist, gesturing to the boys to have some faith. “let's put our hopes high.”
they watch satoru closely. his hand that held the phone dramatically dropped to his side. slowly, he turns his head to face the boys behind him. his face breaks their hearts. he's pouting with eyes nearing tears — a pain only males like them can understand!
before satoru can say something, the front door clicks open. as it swings open aggressively, you made yourself tonight's main star unwillingly. you were not dressed for whatever this occasion is. your front yard has been ruined, your ex is there, three of his students you've met a few times, and while they're in suits, you're in a fancy robe with fluffy indoor slippers.
your eyebrows crease together, just when did they do all of this?! maybe it's time to install cameras.
“satoru, what the fuck did you do to my—”
“shh, tonight it's just you and him,” todo cuts you off, switching the mic on and beginning his performance. inumaki tunes the guitar and starts stringing random strings in hopes that they sound good. yuuji follows by tapping a simple “dun-da-da-dun-dun” beat on the drums.
your mouth's now opened. baffled by the sight, you stood there motionless.
“i have died every day waiting for you~”
as todo sings, satoru walks up to you, cheekily smiling at your shocked expression.
you back away from him, eyebrows still furrowed at whatever's going on.
“darling, don't be afraid~”
at this lyric, satoru takes the opportunity to shove his phone back into his pocket and grab your wrist. although you attempted to wriggle free, you are no match for his strength. gently, he pulls you into the yard.
both your eyes lock on each other. you search his eyes for emotions, he searches yours for any signs of longing. it's not there, he thinks. he feels a pinch in his heart, but it won't stop him. sending you a wink, he pulls you closer to the table.
“i have loved you for a thousand years (ooh)~”
“seriously, what's all this bullshit?!” you whisper-yelled at him, using your other hand to point at the table.
satoru simply shrugs.
“i'll love you for a thou-sand more (ooh, yeah)~”
todo ends his singing, clapping along with the other two to end the performance. it was the most touching thing he's ever done besides gifting yuuji and his idol a trio matching keychains set.
satoru coughs three times in attempts to hide his laugh. this has probably been the most unserious yet serious he's ever been, but his perfomance doesn't end there. he still has something else to whip out.
“baby—”
“that's not my name,” you cut him off.
“anyway. as i was saying,” he stops, revealing the rose bouquet with multiple hundred-dollar bills. “all of these are yours.”
your eyes bulge, but you quickly regain yourself.
“i'm not going to be won over with some roses and money.”
“there's wine and chocolates too,” yuuji says, immediately shutting up after you shot him a look.
inumaki stands awkwardly. he feels immense second-hand embarrassment. to counter such feelings, he starts playing the guitar again.
satoru cups the side of your face with his hand. his thumb caresses your cheek as he locks his eyes on yours again.
“i was serious about not breaking up, y'know,” he softly speaks, “i know i'm pushing it and all that stuff but i don't think i can leave you.”
it's once again your turn to be speechless. at this point, you're sure that there's no way all of this is happening in one night.
since you won't take hold of the bouquet, satoru places it in your hand. to solidify it even more, he lifts your other hand to place a kiss on it.
“what level of romance is this?” again, yuuji speaks. this time, it's satoru who gestures him to quiet down.
inumaki's still playing the out-of-tune guitar, enjoying the way the wind gently blows. it's truly a beautiful night. under the full moon's light, you and satoru glow together.
todo gears up for another round of singing. he immediately does a dragged-out “ooh~” adlib. this, however, wasn't going to last as long as his previous one did.
“NO — no more, please. you have a wonderful voice but i've heard enough. please.” you turned around to todo, begging him to mute the mic and possibly himself.
“and you,” you turn back to face satoru, “clean this up, get the boys home safely, and then come back.”
after that, you walked back to inside your house with the bouquet, making it satoru's turn to be left speechless. he still didn't win you over with some roses and money (wine and chocolates too) but his stupid commitment to keeping the relationship is what did.
#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x you#jjk scenarios#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x fem!reader#gojo satoru scenario#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk oneshot#gojo oneshot
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yandere ! ceo x stripper ! male reader for @rin-sama-writes.
[ nsfw, minors dni. ]
hi, i read your ideas in my inbox and i just had to make a quick drabble about it :] i’ll be making a full one some other time though since i still have 3 prompts to work on. (also, i accidentally published your previous ask before i got to complete the draft, so it got deleted. i’m so sorry,, 🥹🙏)
this is more of a power bottom reader, but i'll do a couple of dom readers soon. this just is a small warm up lol.
× cero had a long and tiring day of filling up paper works, organizing documents, attending several meetings, and the likes; usual CEO stuff. so to reward himself for a job well done, he decides to ask his driver to drive him to your workplace after work. he deserved a treat or two from you.
× the moment he stepped foot inside the nightclub you worked at, it was like a message had been sent to all the present employees. everyone scurried away the moment cero blessed the room with his presence, rushing to prepare the v.i.p room that he had built specifically for you and him to have some fun alone; away from prying eyes. no one deserved to see you in that blissed out state but him.
× the performers that you worked with on stage stopped to inform you that a client had requested your presence in the v.i.p room.
× it was him again, the man whose name you learned was cero, dressed in designer clothes from head to toe and a branded watch around his wrist. everything about him screamed rich which made him an immediate target for you. it was so easy to have guys like him all hooked up on you like some moth drawn to a flame.
× usually, cero would tease you or whistle upon seeing you enter the room, but he was strangely silent tonight.
× you approach the leather couch where he was seated and noticed how his usually neat appearance seem to be absent today. his hair was slightly a mess and his tie was crooked. he looked tired overall.
× normally, you wouldn’t care much about his wellbeing. however, you couldn’t help but notice how cero didn’t seem to be performing his best today. his thrusts were sloppy and he wasn’t hitting the right spots for you to feel good. even prepping you was a major fail ! you ended up scratching his back when he tried to put himself inside, expressing your discomfort.
× with a sigh, you stop him. “i think i’ve seen enough,” you say exasperatingly, detaching yourself from him. his grip on your waist seem to tighten, a conflicted look on the ceo’s face. he almost looked like a kicked puppy.
× he tried to protest, but you stop him by holding up a finger to his lips. “look, sir, i can see that you’re tired.” you trail your hand to cup cero’s cheek and glaze your thumb under his eye. you stayed seated on his lap, cero’s tired eyes gazing up at your own.
× “i’m fine. i’ll manage, i just need you right now.” cero stubbornly protested, a slight rasp in his voice. his hands trailed down your waist to resume what you two were previously engaged in, but you grab his wrists gently. “say.. how about i do all the work tonight ?” you insisted.
× it wasn’t like you were worried about him, you simply couldn’t handle any more of his sloppy attempt to pleasure you.
× you left no room for an argument. you shut down his protests about how he possibly couldn’t let you do that, or how he had been doing just fine doing the work. maybe in a normal night he would be good at it, but not tonight.
× you got off his lap and positioned yourself in between his thighs. no doubt, he was still rock hard and raging due to your interruption, but cero still kept trying to insist that you didn’t have to.
× when he tried to grab a fistful of your hair to stop you, you grab his wrist first, sending him a look of warning. he really needed to keep his hands to himself.
× just as the thought crossed your mind, your gaze wandered over to his crooked tie. ‘that could work.’
× without explaining any further, your hands worked to undo cero’s tie. he didn’t seem to have any violent reaction towards it, so you assumed that he was fine with you doing so.
x as soon as you finished removing his tie, you held his wrist together and tightly tied them up together with his expensive tie, much to his surprise.
x “for now, i’ll do all the touching.” you say with an edge to your tone, meaning that what you said was absolute. “if you try to touch me even once, you’ll have to forget about getting what you want.”
× cero furrowed his brows at your words. were you ordering him around ?
× but before he could express a single word of protest, a jolt of his thigh caught him off guard. he bit his lower lip to suppress the lewd sounds that threatened to escape his lips.
× your tongue wrapped around his tip sent him into overdrive. he immediately hardened inside your mouth, a small groan escaping his lips.
× “wai..t, y/n– ngh!” his muscles tensed when you started to move. holy shit. it was as if all his stress melted away.
× it was a foreign feeling for cero to feel so stripped of his control over his own release. it was all in your hands now.. or well, mouth.
x as soon as you got a hold of his whole length in your mouth and you assured that there would be no gag reflex holding you back, that was when you went all in. cero’s ragged breathing and low moans filled the spacious room, along with the sound of your muffled groans.
x it took him a lot of willpower to hold back from forcing you down on his cock and hitting the back of your throat, but he knew that he couldn’t touch you. damned tie.
x cero threw his head back, cold sweat dripping from his forehead as his fingers twitched and itched to lay a hand on you. a quiet whimper escaped from the ceo’s lips when you slowed down to tease him a little.
x when you looked up at him, you were met with cero’s eyes that held a hint of pleading. a plead for relief perhaps. it was quite a new sight, but not an unwelcome one. you were so used to seeing him act so prideful about making you feel good, seeing him in this state wasn’t so bad.
x a slight chuckle. the vibration from your mouth was, surprisingly, enough to make the ceo finish inside your mouth. you slowly pull out, his load staining the inside of your mouth and your tongue white.
x who knew he was this sensitive. you avert your gaze to study cero’s aftermath. his hair clung to his skin that glistened with sweat, eyes clouded with bliss, and he panted heavily like some dog in heat.
x you couldn’t help but smile in mischief at the realization that you could put a powerful man like him in such a state.
#male reader#yandere x male reader#x male reader#yandere male x male reader#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere male#yandere#kiahndere
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Art by marmar0u on instagram
Pairing: GhostFace!Miguel x f!reader
warnings: 18+, Smut, Roleplay, oral (m/f receiving) , unprotected intercourse, hair-pulling, choking, no use of y/n, slight hair pulling
Summary: It's Halloween and you in for a trick and treat of your life.
A/N: Thank you to the anon who requested GhostFace! Miguel! Sorry if this on kinda sucks. I'm not good with writing scary, suspenseful stuff lol. I did use some of the dialogue from the first movie and tweaked it a bit. If you want to be tagged in my future fics, just let me know! Or, you can also turn on notifications for my page and get notified whenever I post. I hope everyone enjoys and have a safe and fun Halloween!
Word Count: 2.8k ( I promise I'll make my fics longer one day)
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It was Halloween night, and you were home alone. The tv was on, playing some random scary movie. You had music also playing in the background.
Trick-or-treaters would be constantly ringing the doorbell. At first, you thought about simply leaving the bowl of candy by the doorstep, but you loved seeing all the costumes the kids and teenagers were wearing.
You were wearing a costume, yourself. A simple angel. Nothing too flashy since you were simply handing out candy. Just a halo and wings in a white t-shirt and white shorts. You wore your more “suggestive” costume at last weekend’s Halloween party a friend threw.
While making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some popcorn, you heard your cell phone ring. It was a number you’ve never seen before, but it had your area code, so you decided to pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Hello?” A voice on the other end responded.
“Yes?” You replied back.
“Who is this?”
“Who are you trying to reach?” You asked, slightly confused.
“What number is this?”
“What number are you trying to reach?” Honestly. Dude dialed the number, right?
“I don’t know.” Ugh.
“Well, I think you have the wrong number. It happens. Take it easy,” and with that, you ended the call and began to head back to the microwave to check on the popcorn before your phone rang again.
Reaching back over for it, you checked the caller ID. It was the same number. Should you pick it up? At first, you thought about letting it ring but, eh, whatever. You answered it.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number,” the same guy on the other end responded.
“So why did you dial it again?” You asked.
“To apologize,” he replied.
“Well, you’re forgiven. Bye, now.”
“Wait! wait. Don’t hang up. I want to talk to you for a sec.”
“Why?” Okay, this was getting a little weird. You really should just hang up.
“Just want to know a little more about you. How about telling me your name?” He asked. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you rolled your eyes, shaking your head.
“Well, do you have a boyfriend?” He changed the subject.
“Why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?”
“Maybe? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” as if you were going to give this guy a truthful response. Plus, you did have a boyfriend, so you wouldn’t have accepted either way.
“You never told me your name.” There he goes again, asking for your name.
You were now walking around your house, organizing some things as you entertained this weirdo.
“Why do you want to know my name?” No really. Why?
“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”
What?
You suddenly stopped, feeling your heart drop.
“What did you say?” Your voice now grew quiet.
“I want to know who I’m talking to.”
“That’s not what you said,” you pointed out as you began making your way around the house, turning more lights on, as well as the lights from your back porch. You really should hang up and call the police if this guy was stalking you from somewhere.
“Then what did you think I said?” He asked. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.
“What do you want?” You knew if you hung up now, he would just call back. So, you made another round around the house to make sure everything was closed and locked.
“I just want to know your name.”
“You don’t need to know my name. Now what do you want from me?” You questioned.
“I just wanted to talk. Maybe go out together on a date.”
Now you were peaking through the curtains, making sure no one was actually outside. Which was futile since there were still a lot of people out trick-or-treating. Maybe he was just messing around. But, you wanted to be sure.
“Can you see me?” He suddenly asked.
How did he know you were looking for him? “Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police.” Your voice was now shaky, as well as your body.
“They’d never make it in time. It’s Halloween. Probably think you’re prank calling them or something.”
“What do you want?” You asked, your voice cracking and tears welling over your eyes.
The line was quiet for a second, then you heard him chuckle.
“To see what your insides feel like.”
The line disconnected, and there was a sudden flicker of the lights. He was here. He had to be.
You were checking every single closet and door, your heart beating fast, panicking. Where was he? He had to be somewhere in your house.
Your cell phone rang again. You didn’t bother to check the number. You knew it was him.
“What do you want?” You asked, your voice shaking as you struggled to hold the phone in your hand.
No response.
“This isn’t funny! I’m going to call the police!” You threatened as you pressed your back against the wall, trying to keep your eyes everywhere.
You heard the man chuckling again at the other end, causing goosebumps to raise the thin hairs on your arms.
“Aww! Don’t be like that, baby. I’m just having some fun.” You could practically hear him smirking.
“Well, I’m not!” You spat before the lights began to flicker again.
“Stop it!”
“Alright, alright. You’re being such a party-pooper. Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop messing with you, if you let me fuck you.”
“Excuse me?!” You gasped, eyes widened.
“Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll even keep my mask on,” he cooed.
“No way!”
“Why not? It’s Halloween. I’m a trick-or-treater. I already did my tricks, now I’m ready for my treat.”
“I-I have a boyfriend!” You then blurted out.
“You just told me you didn’t.”
“I know that.”
“So that ‘no’’ was a yes? I don’t like that you lied to me like that. Hmm..well, he doesn’t have to know, baby. It’ll be our little secret.”
“No,” you replied.
“Alright. Fine. We can do this the hard way,” he responded just before the lights went completely dark. The line cut off on the other end, and you were left with silence.
You covered your mouth and tried to calm down. You had to find something to defend yourself with. Maybe a baseball bat or something. Or you could go back to the kitchen and grab a pan or knife.
Without removing yourself from the wall, you began to make your way to the kitchen.
In the dark, you quickly made your way to the drawers and found a knife before proceeding to turn on the flashlight on your phone just as you heard something coming from upstairs.
“Shit shit shit!” You breathed, gripping onto the knife with one hand and your phone with the other before you slowly began to make your way up the stairs , looking all around you.
You jumped when you heard a door slam behind you, and you slowly turned around to see a dark figure at the end of the hall.
“Who are you?!” You called out, taking a couple steps back, still gripping the knife tightly. Your legs began to tremble a bit.
The figure then turned around. A white ghost-like mask covered their face. You could hear a low chuckle coming from them as they began to take a step closer, holding their own, bloody knife in his hand.
“Get away from me! I’m serious!” You threatened, but he continued to make his way closer to you, so, you dashed into your bedroom, not noticing something on the floor that caused you to trip and fall onto your bed, the knife slipped out of your hand, along with your phone, both landing on the floor with a thump.
Once you managed to push your body up, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the figure standing right behind you, causing you to scream. You tried to scramble back, but he grabbed one of your legs, lifting the knife towards you to strike.
You quickly reached for a pillow and started hitting him with it. It worked for a second, and he stumbled back. But, it gave you enough time to get out of bed.
However, your efforts were not sufficient,and he grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed with a thump before he crawled over you, pinning your hands behind your head and straddling your waist.
A low chuckle could be heard coming from him before he leaned over and whispered against your ear, “You’re so cute when you’re scared.”
Your heart pounded against your chest, struggling to break free as tears pricked over your eyes.
“Please, let me go..” you whimpered.
“Not until I get my treat, sweetheart,” he reminded her as he sat up and began to pull down his pants underneath the black cloak.
“Aye, mierda, this thing..”he huffed under his breath as he hiked the cloak up above his waist.
Wait a second. That voice..it sounded familiar. Too familiar. And there was only one person you knew who would curse like that.
“M-Miguel?”
“Yeah?” He paused, looking down at you through his mask, his persona now forgotten.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! It was you doing this the whole time?!” You shrieked as you started smacking him, hitting him with all your might.
“You asshole!”
Miguel simply laughed as he grabbed hold of your hands.
“Come on, nena! I was just messing with you!” He continued to laugh. “You should’ve seen the look on your face. It was adorable.”
“G-get off of me!” You were pissed at the stunt your boyfriend pulled.
“But I want my treat,” you just knew that he was pouting under his mask.
“I’m not giving you anything you big jerk! Now get off and turn my lights back on!” You demanded, shoving him off of you.
“Fine,” he muttered before fixing himself and got off the bed and headed out of your room.
You laid in your bed for a moment, trying to relax. You never thought Miguel would do such a thing. He really had you scared shitless.
Shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, you got up from bed, grabbing the knife you dropped on the floor and began to make your way downstairs just as the lights came back on.
Miguel was already in the kitchen, mask removed and munching on the popcorn you had made.
You placed the knife back where it belonged before turning to face Miguel, crossing your arms over your chest.
Miguel looked over at you after popping some more popcorn into his mouth, giving you a cheeky grin.
“Heeey..” he reached over to you, pulling you over by the arm. “Don’t be mad. Please. Forgive me?”
He gave you big puppy dog eyes. And for someone as big as him, it was actually adorable. But you were still mad at him. He actually had you fearing for your life.
“No,” you respond curtly, glaring up at him. Why did he think you would just forgive him so easily?
“How did you even get in here?” You asked as he pulled you into a tight hug.
“You showed me where you keep your spare key, remember?”
“Oh, yeah..”
“Soo..”he smirked then. “Can I get my treat now?”
“You’re insufferable. Fine! Fine,” you finally agreed with a nod. “But, I swear if you do something like that again, I’m breaking up with you."
Miguel gave you a toothy grin before pulling his mask back down before pulling out his knife from under his cloak. With closer inspection, you realize it was just a fake prop knife with red paint over it.
“Wait, how did you change your voice?” You suddenly asked.
Miguel pulled out a little box-like device and held it to his face before speaking to it, his voice sounding completely different.
“Oh.”
“Now, let’s have some fun, shall we?” Miguel stated before he started chasing you around the kitchen, with you now playing along.
After you had given the last of the candy out to trick-or-treaters and finished up the popcorn, you and Miguel were upstairs in your room, with you on your knees, sucking him off.
He was still clad in his costume, having his cloak bunched up around his waist.
“Oh, fuck, that’s it. Just like that,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you bobbed your head and pumped him in your hand. You couldn’t help but to slip your hand into your panties and finger yourself, letting out moans around his cock.
He began to thrust into your mouth, holding your head still with his hand. You continued to finger yourself.
“Such a naughty little angel you are, nena. Taking my cock in so well,” he praised before letting out another groan, feeling himself close to his orgasm. However, he pulled himself out of your mouth, stunting his release. He wanted to be inside you for that. He pulled up on onto your feet before he knelt down before you, removing his mask before shooting you a playful wink and removed your white shorts and panties before half of his face disappeared between your legs.
You let out a moan when you felt it. His tongue, running along your folds, picking up your wetness with greed. He lifted you up by the thighs, placing a hand on your back before lifting you up on the floor and blindly made his way to the closet wall, pinning you there.
“Oh, Miguel!” You whined, tilting your head back against the wall, squeezing his head between your thighs as he slurped and nipped at your aching pussy.
Muffled moans could be heard coming from his mouth, sending vibrations through your body. You started bucking your hips against her mouth, needing more of his tongue.
You let out another whine, needing more. You needed more of him. You needed him inside you.
“Migueeeel!” You pouted as you continued to grind your hips against him. All he needed was his mouth to send you over the edge, and he knew how to use it well. He had you seeing stars and reaching for the moon with how his tongue danced along your bundle of nerves and slipped into your soaking pussy.
However, he pulled away before you were able to reach your peak.
“No!” You cried out, causing him to chuckle. He gently removed you from his shoulders and carried you to your bed, dropping you.
“Don’t fret, nena. We got all night. It’s still Halloween. And I am going to enjoy my treat for as long as I can. I did tell you and wanted to feel your insides, after all,” he said as he slipped his mask back down and took off everything else, leaving himself naked.
He proceeded to remove most of your clothes, leaving just your halo and wings on before flipping you over so you were on your stomach.
“On your hands and knees, angelita,” he ordered, giving you ass a playful smack, causing you to let out a yelp. You did as he said and positioned yourself before him, ass in the air and face down onto the mattress.
You could hear him stroking himself in his hand, and the sound made your mouth water.
“I know you want me in that tight little pussy, nena. Don’t worry, I got you,” Miguel smirked before plunging himself into your warm, wet cunt, causing you to arch your back and cry out his name.
Miguel didn’t wait to set at a brutal pace, pivoting himself against you, balls slapping against your clit. You let out a lewd moan, your eyes rolling back just as Miguel grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over, his phone in hand. He took a quick photo of the two of you.
“You better not show that to anyone,” you whimpered.
“Of course not. This is all for me. No one gets to see you like this, angelita,” Miguel cooed, and you felt him resting his masked face against your hair, as if trying to give you a kiss.
“Now, you gonna cum for me?”
You could feel him hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, and you cried out a ‘yes’ in response, nodding your head.
“Yes! Yes yes! I will! Please..just like that!”
“That’s my girl,” he praised, giving your ass a hard smack that had you cumming instantly.
You gripped onto the bed sheets as Miguel continued to thrust into you past your orgasm. He loved filling you up and mixing your juices with his. And that’s just what he did. A couple more thrusts and he came inside you.
“Oh, fuck..that felt good,” Miguel sighed as he slowly pulled out of you, marveling at how your cunt dripped with his seed.
Taking off his mask completely, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you passionately.
“I’m still mad at you,” you reminded him, poking him hard on the chest.
He simply laughed and pecked your lips a couple of times. “Sorry, nena. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he cooed, nuzzling his face against your neck.
“Happy Halloween.”
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@xaaaaaaax, @randomwriteralan, @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn
#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara smut#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel smut#spiderman 2099
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let down - leah williamson x reader
pairing: barca!reader x leah williamson
warnings: barça being broke
In truth, you shouldn't be nervous.
This conversation had been going on for months - it was no secret that Barça had many financial problems, and paying you, Alexia and Aitana as their midfield would always have been difficult. You had had countless conversations like these before - negotiating your new contract, negotiating your new wage, which you knew would be significantly lower. It didn't bother you, though. You would've picked up a second job if it meant playing for your childhood club, even if they refused to pay you.
This setting, however, seemed a lot more official than it should've, in your opinion.
You were still dressed in your clothes from training, and so was Jona, but the rest of Barça's management was dressed properly - in suits and leather shoes. They shouldn't have even been there yet. This conversation was meant to simply verbalize your new contract, not to sign it yet. You were in no conditions to take the usual photos and sit in front of the camera for an interview after the contract extension. It confused you.
"Y/N, we are so sorry."
That was how Jona started, and in that particular moment, your heart stopped. No, this couldn't- they wouldn't dare-
"We can't renew your contract."
Silence followed. Then, your shaky voice. Barely above a whisper.
"What?"
This whole situation seemed too surreal to be true. Maybe in a few seconds, your eyes would open and you would find out that this was just a horrible dream. If it hadn't been for your manager's piercing gaze on you, you might've pinched yourself under the table.
"We don't have the financial means to pay you enough to stay. I know it's not what you want to hear, but-"
"No, Jona, we talked about this. You can cut my wage, I don't mind. I'll stay here, whatever it takes. Alexia said she would-"
But the man in front of you didn't let you finish.
"You are right, we talked about this. And I told you that you deserve more than what we can give you, and that you cannot let us undermine you. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to all the women who are-"
This time, you were the one to interrupt him.
"But this? This isn't fair to me!"
That was how the argument unfolded, and only after your voice was hoarse from crying and pleading, your cheeks stained with tears and your manager stained with guilt, did you leave the office to fall into Alexia's arms, who had been listening in from the other side of the door for God knew how long.
It was January currently, which meant that as soon as you silently agreed with them to sign you to whatever club payed the most, you were out.
Just like that, the chance to play in front of the Culers for one last time was ripped away from you. They received a half-hearted announcement via Instagram, you received twenty women in your apartment, ready to pack your things. In all honesty, you had wished for no one to see as you organized your life into moving boxes and shipped them over the sea for whoever from Arsenal to receive, mostly because it would've felt even less real. Mostly because then, the goodbye wouldn't have hit you as hard. Ona tried to offer you advice on how to get by in England, telling you all about her experience abroad. Mapi tried to lift the spirits by joking around. Ingrid held you as you allowed tears to fall, and Alexia made sure you didn't forget anything, offering to take care of the things you would leave behind in Barcelona.
It was only you and Alexia at the airport. Your best friend, since the day you had been selected to play for the senior team of Barcelona, had shared many angry words with the management, and at one point even threatened to leave if you really had to. But the papers were signed, and the boxes were packed, and there was nothing left to do for Alexia besides holding your shaky frame as tears clouded your vision for what felt like the millionth time.
"You'll be okay, bebita. You'll enjoy London, and then you'll come back. I promise, you'll come back."
The both of you knew that there was no way she could ever promise that - Barça's financial difficulties were far too severe to sign you back soon - the most expensive player in the world, currently. When, or if the smoke would clear up, neither of you could know. Still, her words soothed you the tiniest as you held onto the glimpse of hope your best friend gave you as if it was a lifeline.
"Enjoy London, okay?"
You nodded, although you knew that you wouldn't. What good was London compared to Barcelona? What good was the capital of England compared to your lifelong home?
"Vamos, carino", Alexia huffed as she let go of you, gently pushing you towards your gate.
"Call me, okay? ¡Te amo!", she yelled after you as you turned away from her, and the hurt in her voice made a new layer of tears stream down on your cheeks, but you knew that if you looked back at her now, you would never board that plane. If leaving to England was what it took for your club to keep functioning, you would. If playing for Arsenal meant that you would be back in blaugrana one day, you would wear that ugly red shirt and call yourself a Gunner. You wouldn't do it happily, though.
London looked ugly when you flew over it, and London looked ugly when you landed in Heathrow Airport. You had expected people from the club to be there to pick you up, wearing Arsenal clothes and a sign with your name on it. It was apparently standard procedure, as Alexia had told you, though neither of you could really know because neither of you had never left the country to play football if it wasn't with the Spanish national team. What you hadn't expected, however, was Laia waving at you excitedly from across the hall, with two women dressed in the same hoodie as her, one significantly smaller (you guessed she was Kim) and one Leah Williamson.
You had never followed English football much, likely why you hadn't recognized Kim when you'd first searched up your new team on the internet, but Leah was the kind of footballer everyone was just.. aware of.
Admittedly, she was even prettier in real life.
"¡Hola, guapa!", Laia shrieked as you strolled over to your new teammates (the word 'teammate' along with 'new' still left a bitter taste in your mouth), dragging your suitcase behind you tiredly. The plain ride had worn you out - in all honesty, the entire past week had worn you out. Ever since you'd been told that you would leave the club that you had bled for, you hadn't been able to close half an eye.
Still, Laia's excitement was unmatched as she pulled you into a tight hug, allowing your face to sag against her shoulder. You didn't allow yourself to cry anymore, and so you could see Leah and Kim smile at you softly from a few steps behind the other Spanish woman without tears clouding your vision.
Laia continued to speak in Spanish, asking you about the flight, about how the Barça girls were, about how excited she was that you were finally here and she wasn't the only Spaniard at the Arsenal.
If Kim and Leah thought it was rude that they were left out of the conversation entirely, they didn't say so. Still, you pushed Laia off gently, mustering the smallest of smiles you could.
"Hello."
Your English wasn't very good, but even you winced ever so slightly at the realization of how truly cold you sounded. You didn't want to be here, didn't want any of them to show you your new apartment, didn't want them to show you the club, to bring you to training, to give you a red jersey and call you a Gunner.
But you needed to suck it up. Life wasn't fair. And if Alexia's words held any truth, this would merely be a temporal situation.
"Hey", Kim smiled at you. Her English sounded funny, but her smile was more genuine than yours as she introduced herself and Leah. You hadn't needed her to, but it was a nice gesture anyways.
"It's good to have you here", Leah smiled as she gently lay her arm across your shoulder.
"Wanna see your new flat?", you nodded as Leah guided you out of the hall, your luggage left with Laia who strolled behind you alongside Kim.
Leah's confidence and her proximity to you, your side pressed against hers, was making your head spin ever so slightly. You had, admittedly, hoped that Leah, as co-captain and being about to return to the pitch, would understand how badly you didn't want to be at Arsenal, seeing as she bled for the club the way you did for Barcelona. Maybe she could grasp the idea of being forced out of her home, and sympathize with you in the slightest. And it seemed she did, as she pointed towards what you guessed was Kim's car, leaving you and Laia in the backseats as you drove through the city. London was different from Barcelona.
It was slightly less ugly now, with impressive buildings and a few bits of nature sprawled around as Kim maneuvered the car through the streets. It was cold, though, and as you were shivering slightly, Kim put the heat just a bit higher. It was grey, as well. Not a single ray of sunshine was able to break through the barrier of clouds in the sky, and it reminded you a lot of your current mood, though you were hesitant to show it.
Leah and Kim seemed genuine in their efforts to make this transition as easy for you as possible, given the fact that your apprehension to leave Barcelona was a very well known fact. You had dedicated an Instagram post with a very heartfelt caption to your departure, which made it very clear that you did not leave on your own accord.
Their dedication to welcome you, though, made you feel the tiniest bit of unfair. The women were genuinely trying, and they promised you during the car ride, when asking whether or not you were nervous, that the whole team was excited to meet you. Maybe you could try a little bit. Maybe you could enjoy this for the time being.
"Here we are."
You could see Kim's smile through the rearview mirror as she parked her car in front of an old building which you guessed was your new apartment complex. The car had left the central of London around twenty minutes ago, and at your confused expression, Laia had huffed that the club was in North London, not Central London.
"¿Es un poco feo, no?", (It's a bit ugly) you asked Laia as you stared at the shabby building. The walls were grey, and the parking lot was grey, and it seemed like everything in London was just.. grey. Plain.
"¡No, Y/N! Leah vida aquí también", (Leah lives here too) Laia huffed at your comment, shaking her head while chuckling at your statement. You shrugged, ignoring the way Leah and Kim furrowed their brows at your Spanish conversation while climbing out of your seat to retrieve your luggage.
You insisted on carrying your suitcase up the small flight of stairs as well, though Laia offered to do it for you. The two of you hadn't been super close when she'd still played at Barcelona, but you had been quite good friends, and having at least one familiar face soothed you.
"This is it", Leah smiled softly as the four of you stepped into the hallway, following your curious steps into the flat. It was plain as well, of course it was. For the first time since calming down on the plane, you had to fight tears again. The flat was nice, sure. The club had organized a quite spacious place, with lots of room and comfortable-looking furniture. But it was bare. You knew that shopping for furniture would be a hassle in the middle of the season, so you had rented it furnitured.
You missed your green couch, the thrifted, quite antique sideboard, the golden-framed mirror. You missed the framed shirts on your wall, the clothing rack with all of the shirts you had swapped with other players. All of those things were now packed away in a storage room somewhere in Barcelona. You missed Barcelona.
"Es pretty", you mumbled, dropping your keys on the white coffee table and turning around to look at Leah, who was still holding on to your large bag, the Barcelona badge imprinted on it. The look she gave you, eyebrows slightly raised, eyes looking somewhat defeated, told you that you hadn't been able to fool her.
Laia and Kim left quickly, with the excuse of having early training tomorrow and needing to run whatever errands, but Leah stayed.
"I live in the same building, so I could help you unpack if you want?"
In truth, you didn't want her to help. You didn't want her to swoop through your things, eyeing all of your personal belongings, all of the tokens of your previous home that you had left so promptly, but you didn't have the heart to tell her no. So, the two of you got to work, after a small tour through the whole unit, finding the bedroom, the bathroom and another room that you guessed you would use for storage. Your kitchen was small, after all, and it was filled with things you didn't know how to use.
"What's this?", you asked as you held up a scoop of some sort, that you had found while rummaging through your cupboards.
"It's a tea scoop, for making loose tea", Leah explained with a chuckle, taking the utensil from your hand to showcase how one scoops.
"I don't drink tea", you huffed, taking the scoop back and shoving it into the back of the cupboard before closing it a little harsher than you would have expected.
"You're in England now, you're gonna drink tea."
You decided to ignore her comment, instead opening the next drawer.
"I have a microwave", you pointed out, moving slightly to the side so that Leah could look. She was awfully close to you again, and it made you nervous.
"So you can make paellas", Leah snickered, nudging her hips against yours playfully. At that, you turned towards her, taking a shocked step back.
"Joder, you don't microwave paellas! What is wrong with you? Mujer loca", (crazy woman) you exclaimed, nudging her back playfully before diving into the next cupboard. Maybe London wouldn't be as horrible as you thought.
notes: this is baaaaad honestly but we move
#woso imagine#woso community#woso fanfics#woso one shot#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#awfc imagine#awfc x reader#barca femeni x reader
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I still think about that girl who accidentally talked to Nazis at a Palestine rally. It's been dissected and memed to death already, but one point of her bafflingly long essay sticks out to me and I haven't seen people really talk about that aspect of it.
She mentioned her burning need to finally do something about Gaza, that's why she's taking a stand and organizing and getting out there and protesting, right? And yet she starts her essay mentioning that she has KLANSMEN in her extended family and they're a deeply entrenched part of the South where she lives. And I just nodded skeptically because wait wait wait wait wait!
You mean to tell me that a war happening a world away, which does not affect you aside from how much social clout you'll have among your online leftie friends, is important enough to start protesting and organizing and "resisting" for. But you have done nothing about the Klan?? That's just presented as a status quo, they've always existed where you live and always will. Sorry that's just how it is now let's move on?
You could be actually trying to dismantle the KKK in your region, for what little you can actually contribute to that, it's still much more tangible and direct than marching up to a Jewish owned business and shouting "From the River to the Sea!" I think it really speaks to something about White American Leftists. I'm not sure what yet, but I'll let you know. Maybe it's their delusion that they're not "safe," combating injustice so they pick on Israel because truly Israel and Israelis do not care about them. They're gnats.
But according to these WALs, a Jewish state, flawed as it is, merely existing and engaging in combat with its hostile neighbors, is more of a threat, more of a yearning cry for justice, than the Ku Klux Klan?? I know those creeps haven't just been idling by twiddling their thumbs in the post Obama era either. After Charlottesville? No no no, you just don't want to confront your own complicity in White Supremacy (considering you have family in the Klan??). You don't want to disrupt the tenuous truce between the various political factions of your family at Thanksgiving.
But you're gung-ho full steam ahead calling for the largest Jewish community on Earth to lose their sovereignty and possibly their homes, maybe even their lives, and you just don't see an issue with that. You're delusional, you're narcissistic, and you're lazy and immature. You're every bit as pathetic as your conservative father tells you you are.
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Okay so this is my first request even having read all your work always forget to request something but i just had this random idea. So basically i had acl surgery today (wont get into that 😂) but i was just wondering if you could possibly right a fic about Lando where girlfriend gets surgery and basically like the whole thing is just fluff tbh add whatever u want or whatever surgery if u actually write this. But i just feel like lando would definitely make me feel loved after surgery
I'll Meet You There - LN
I'm switching this up, inspired by the Williams driver below. We're going in for the kill with emergency surgery to get that appendix removed. But dw! Bc super protective, fluffy, loving, caring, worried Lando is going to be in full swing.
Also I hope you are healing and feeling better. I'm sorry this took a while to write and upload. I didn't actually realise it would be this long but I think it's worth it (I hope). Love ya lots, and thank you for the request, please feel free to send in more!
Y/n had figured the pain was cramps or maybe just one of those random pains that we all get, have a momentary panic of an organ failing then it goes away. She really assumed it was all nothing. Then the pain got worse and she got a fever, her skin got so prickly she could handle anyone even brushing past her without it making her whole body ache.
Lando has been thrown into the Las Vegas rush of media and showboating. So he hasn't seen much of her, but his trainer Jon, has very much noticed her quickly deteriorating health.
"I'll tell him later. Y/n, you really need to get to the hospital but if this is the only compromise you have to promise you'll do as they say." Jon instructs as she winces getting to the medical centre.
"Please don't tell him if there's nothing wrong."
Jon withholds a scoff. If there's nothing wrong then someone is lying to them.
He thinks ahead figuring he'll end up trusting her to be left with the doctor and leaves instructions for him to be contacted as soon as they know what's going on.
What he doesn't expect is for her to be called for an ambulance and a heads up that she'll need to be immediately taken in for emergency surgery because her appendix is possibly minutes away from rupturing.
A moral dilemma of telling Lando is on the brink, but when y/n grabs Jon's collar and yanks him close to her as she pants in pain. He knows it's not a choice he's going to get to make.
"Do not dare tell him about this. Go be his trainer, not his friend. He can be mad about it later, but he's needs to focus on the race and just-ok, I can't keep talking." Y/n winces with her whole body twitching in pain.
"Alright, no telling him till after the race."
"Good. Ok. Go." She nods only managing one word between each ragged breath.
-
Turned out that Lando didn't even make it to the lap 5, a bump in the track left him slamming into a wall. The hit was hard and he ended up with his own trip to the same hospital that y/n is currently having surgery in.
Jon with him, he does take a moment of Lando being examined to rush and find out what is happening with y/n.
"Hi, can I check what is happening with y/n y/l/n? She was brought in for emergency surgery due to appendicitis." Jon states making the nurse look at him for a moment. "I'm the reason she even bothered to see a doctor to send her here. He boyfriend is the F1 driver who just came in after a crash and he doesn't know, I have to tell him. Please, tell me good news."
"She's still in surgery. But her appendix ruptured on the way here. It's going to be longer than initially expected due to that and there may be complications. I will try to find out more but mid-surgery, it's hard to really get any information." The nurse sighs making him grimace but nod.
Appendicitis is pretty notorious for it's risk of quickly taking a bad turn. If it's caught early enough then it's less likely for it to be such a threat to life.
Now he has to tell Lando. Although the driver has been given drugs to ease his pain from the crash, so maybe it won't be so bad of a reaction to the news. But even with drugs, Lando will likely not be happy.
"Hey, mate. How you feeling?" Jon asks making Lando look over at him for a moment looking a little like he's slowly processing it.
"Good. Better. Have you got my phone though? Just want to let some people know I'm alright, especially y/n. She'll be freaking out." Lando nods making a grabby hand for his phone.
"Y/n...is actually in the hospital." Jon states hesitantly before making sure to quickly add that it's not for Lando. "She's in emergency surgery for appendicitis."
"She what? What do you mean? When did she-Why did you not tell me?!"
"Because she knew you'd freak out and I think she hoped the surgery would be finished by the time you finished the race."
Almost as if she felt summoned the nurse he'd asked about y/n appears and looks at Lando for a moment before looking at Jon.
"The surgery is going well given the circumstances. They believe she'll be out within the hour and they'll just need to hold her for observation to make sure there's nothing wrong."
"Thank you." Jon nods but Lando has sat himself up.
"Sorry, what circumstances? Can someone fill me in?"
"Y/n's appendix did rupture before they got her into surgery. But it's going well and that's all you need to worry about." Jon states making Lando looks like he is in shock at Jon being so dismissive about it. "She's ok. You'll see her soon."
-
Lando refused to leave the hospital till y/n was out of surgery and he could at least see her. So he waited and eventually got to see her, she's on a few monitors and still knocked out from the surgery, but it's obvious she's being well cared for.
"Can you go back to the paddock and just tell everyone what's going on?" Lando asks with a heavy sigh earning an immediate nod from his trainer.
"Yeah, I'll sort everything out. You just let me know when she wakes up and if she's ok." Jon states making Lando nod before the two exchange a hug and Lando settles himself down beside her.
Lando ends up scrolling through his phone for a while. Updating his Instagram about y/n and the fact she was in the hospital getting her appendix removed without him knowing anything about it while he was racing.
It takes another hour for her to wake up and Lando is more than relieved.
"Finally back to the land of the living." Lando smiles softly while she looks at him with a grin. "Never ever ever, hide this shit from me again."
"Pretty sure I can only get my appendix removed the once." She laughs then shivering a little. "Fucking hell it's freezing in here."
That makes Lando act quickly to press the nurse button and get extra blankets for his girlfriend while almost making to climb into the bed with her while being cautious of not causing any damage or pain since she does have staples from the surgery.
"Hold on...why are you still in your race suit?" Y/n asks realising that Lando's still completely dressed from the race.
"I crashed...had to come here for some tests because it was...a pretty big impact."
"I'm going to assume you're ok."
"Yeah, I'm fine." Lando nods while kissing her temple. "I was more concerned when Jon finally told me about you...how much was it hurting?"
"I was sick in the ambulance and that's why it ruptured. Then I passed out, or at least that's how I remember it." Y/n explains before smiling at her. "I'm just glad I can't feel that shit again. Because it fucking felt like I was dying."
Lando feels his stomach feel churn just at the thought. Especially since he was completely unaware that she was at all that ill.
"I'm just glad you're ok." Lando sighs then sighing as his phone rings. "It's Andrea."
"Answer it, he'll want to check that you're ok." Y/n smiles patting Lando's chest.
Lando hums answering the phone and putting it on speaker so she can hear exactly what the team principal says.
"Hey, Lando. Is y/n awake and ok?"
Y/n can't even stop herself from laughing while Lando chuckles.
"Yeah, I'm good. Gonna probably be left behind for some recovery time. Feels like they moved some stuff around inside of me to get to my appendix." Y/n giggles since herself and Andrea do spend a lot of time together since she likes to go up to him and bug him often. His soft spot for her means she probably should've predicted he'd be more concerned about her.
But equally Jon would've made it priority to inform him that Lando is completely fine and has only not returned because of y/n.
"That's good. Jon said that you're alright, Lando. We'll loop you in for the debrief on call-"
"No. He's on his way back."
"No. I'm not."
"Yes, because I need you to grab me stuff from the hotel anyway. So if you go to the debrief, then the hotel and grab me all the stuff I might need then it works out for everyone." Y/n smiles before she yawns lightly and groans a little. "Please?"
Lando really doesn't want to leave her. The expression on his face says that the last thing he wants is to be anywhere but by her side until she's discharged because then he knows she really is ok and there's no risk of things taking a sudden and unexpected turn.
"Alright, fine. I'll be at the debrief as soon as I can get back." Lando sighs after a very prolonged silence.
"Great, well I'll see you soon. Y/n please keep us all informed, especially Lando since he already sounds unhappy about this." Andrea states making her look at him for a moment.
"No problem." Y/n smiles while looking at an annoyed looking Lando watching her.
The call ends and Lando sighs getting up, carefully making sure she's not risking bursting those staples.
"I love you." Lando grunts making the young woman sigh at him. "Don't give me that look. I don't want to leave you."
"I'm not going anywhere, I'll be here while you're gone and I'll be here when you come back." Y/n promises making him hum, still clearly upset about leaving her. "I love you."
"Please call and text me if there's any change. I'm going to make sure the hospital has me as your next of kin. I don't want anyone else contacted if something happens."
"You...You want to be my next of kin?" Y/n questions, her voice wobbling a little which makes Lando look at her in shock that she'd even ask.
"Baby, the fact that I'm not already is annoying as it is." Lando smiles lightly moving to kiss her. "I'm going to make sure this is the quickest debrief ever. Especially since I only did 3 full laps."
"Do you know what to grab from the hotel or do you want me to send you a list?" Y/n asks making him scoff. "Alright, now you're just getting cocky."
"We'll see about that when I bring everything you need and only every you need. Maybe a couple things that you want."
Y/n smiles a little since she completely trusts Lando. He makes the effort to know this sort of thing because it really means something to her and he knows it.
"I'll see you soon then." Y/n whispers earning another kiss.
"Yes you will."
-
Now when Lando returns with multiple of the other drivers all of whom discovered why she had disappeared and decided they would all be paying her a visit.
"This is for you." Lando smiles handing her a gift bag and card as everyone sits down with what appears to be a feast of food. "You can't eat, but I check and the nurse said we could try a milkshake."
"Thank you...whats the card and gift?"
"Alex's...suggestion." Lando hints making her raise an eyebrow.
She opens the card first and nearly chokes on her spit when she sees the front.
"Sorry for your loss." Y/n cackles earning a grin from Lando and Alex. "You are both such muppets."
"You'll feel the loss more when you're out of the hospital." Alex declares while she looks at him almost too amused to be able to contain her laughter. Plus she doesn't want to explain to a doctor she split the staples from laughing too hard because her boyfriend and his friend got a her a sympathy card for her appendix.
"I'm going to keep this forever for the record." Y/n states earning a grin from both Alex and Lando before Lando moves to sit with her and they seem to have the most un-Vegas post-race celebration ever.
#f1#fanfic#formula 1#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando x reader#lando#norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris x you#ln4 fluff#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#mclaren f1#mclaren#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fanfic#ln4 one shot#lando norris one shot#formula one#mclaren formula 1#mclaren racing
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