#this list feels telling about me as a person but not sure i could say WHAT it tells you
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To Be Loved Is To Be Considered
Summary: The moments that Wanda considered Y/n aka the moments her loved showed.
Warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship
A/n: I know y’all love angst but please give this fluff a chance too. GIF credits to @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo
Word Count: 1.3k
Masterlist
Love is not always about the sacrifices you do but rather the moments in life where you consider more than yourself. To be loved is to be considered. And this is how Wanda considered Y/n.
On no particular evening, Y/n lay asleep on the living room couch after finishing her part of the shared chores. Wanda still had one more thing on her list when she noticed her girlfriend was sound asleep.
Tiptoeing closer, the red head saw the slight shiver on Y/n’s skin. Wanda clicked her tongue in disapproval and used her magic to get the blanket from the living room. Grabbing it from the air, she placed the blanket on top of Y/n and placed a small kiss on her forehead.
The music in the background was lowered to a small hum as Wanda continued with her chores, the last thing being on her list was to water the plants.
Taking her time, Wanda danced around their apartment as she watered the plants, even murmuring small affirmations to certain plants that were taking a while to grow.
And after 20 minutes, feeling satisfied with the clean apartment, Wanda slipped under the blanket and cuddled into her warm girlfriend. It didn’t take long for the red head to fall into a small slumber.
Y/n has a certain lazy personality when it comes to her safety, something Wanda has always hated. But no matter how many times the red head will berate her girlfriend, Y/n never listens. In her head, as long as she gets back to Wanda, that’s all that matters.
So as Y/n sat in the long pre-mission briefing, Wanda had always checked Y/n’s suit for safety. Any time gadgets need an update, Wanda would be the first to put in the request. When she notices a hindrance in Y/n’s performance, Wanda could always tell why and how certain modifications can help.
Wanda paid attention to make sure that Y/n could focus solely on her job.During the times where they are partnered up, Wanda was always glad to double check over her work.
Y/n knew that when her suit always felt up to date, never without holes before a mission, and surprisingly clean, that Wanda must’ve done something.
So in turn, Y/n never failed to come back to Wanda.
The warm dim vibe of the restaurant contrasted the loud activity that happened throughout. Wanda and Y/n sat closer to the bar, already dinning in.
It was date night, Wanda had been wanting to try a new spot in LA with great views and amazing food. “You made a great choice, babe.” Wanda smiled at Y/n’s praise.
“Should we get a couple of drinks?” As Y/n nodded in agreement, the waiter came with the food. “Here you go ladies.”
As he sat the food down, Y/n bit back the frown when she noticed the greens she specifically didn’t want mixed with her alfredo. Looking over Wanda’s food, Y/n smiled at how perfect it turned out.
“At least they got her’s right,” Y/n thought.
“Does everything look good?” The waiter asked, waiting for approval.
“Yeah everything-,” Wanda glanced at her girlfriend’s food with a disapproving look ready to say something but Y/n had interrupted her.
“Yeah, everything looks good. Thank you.” The waiter smiled and walked away. Once he was out of sight, Y/n sighed at her food.
“You should’ve let me say something dekta.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to argue with Wanda.
“I really don’t like complaining to them Wanda. Wait staff already have a lot on their hands.” Although Wanda knew they were both right, she was still unhappy to see Y/n unable to eat.
So as Y/n drank her water, Wanda switched their plates. Y/n almost disagreed, but the look on Wanda’s face silenced Y/n. “Now eat, let’s not waste a lovely date night now.”
Y/n smiled and took a bite of the steak, the juicy and flavorful feeling filled her mouth. As they continued the date, Y/n gave Wanda a couple pieces of steak as a small thank you.
“Dekta, I’m home!” Wanda placed her keys in the bowl and walked into the kitchen, dropping the grocery bag on the counter.
“In here, babe!” Y/n yelled from the office. Once Wanda put away the groceries, her eyes finally set on the gift waiting for her at the kitchen table.
Walking to it, Wanda smiled at the bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper. In the middle, a note read ‘For my beautiful and lovely girlfriend, Wanda. Love, your dekta.’
She picked it up, enjoying the smell. Right beside it sat the Sokovian treats that she had mentioned craving the other day.
Already opening a pack, Wanda walked into the office, a gift in hand. Y/n was in the middle of playing video games, her back facing Wanda.
“Pause the game and close your eyes, dekta.” Y/n paused the game.
“Am I in trouble?” Wanda giggled as she placed the gift in Y/n’s lap, giving a small peck on her forehead.
“You’re not in trouble. But open them.” Y/n opened her eyes, mouth slack at the sight of a new gaming controller. The plastered smile on her face made Wanda smile even more.
“I hope you like the color.”
“Like it?!!” Y/n was flabbergasted by the gesture, immediately pulling Wanda in for a massive hug.
“Thank you so much, babe! I can game so much better with this.”
“Maybe then you can aim.” Y/n pouted at the slight jab from Wanda but still kissed her nonetheless.
“I’ll have you know, I blame the drift on my old controller.”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me another kiss so you can play your game.” Y/n pulled Wanda in for a deeper kiss, feeling happy for the unexpected gift.
As Wanda’s smile broke the kiss, she gave her girlfriend another peck on the lips and went back to the kitchen to grab her snacks. She ate them in their office as she watched her girlfriend still miserably lose in Overwatch.
In their shared bed, Wanda sat in her spot, reading the new book assigned for the month. Laying beside her, Y/n watched a new show on Netflix, making sure to keep the volume low to not disturb Wanda.
“Babe, can you mess with my hair?” Before Wanda could utter yes, Y/n had already laid her head down on her lap, settling herself in a comfortable position.
Without a word, Wanda used her free hand and combed her fingers through Y/n’s hair. A soft groan escaped Y/n’s lips, as she said, “What page are you on?”
“Only in the second chapter, she’s being transported to a new place after killing the wolf.” Y/n hummed in response and continued to watch.
While Wanda combed through Y/n’s hair, she began to notice how her hand hadn't felt plastic frames. Realizing that her girlfriend had been unable to see the show this whole time, Wanda stopped her book. She briefly put it down to notice her girlfriend’s glasses were on the desk across the room.
Rolling her eyes, she continued to read as her magic floated the glasses right in front of Y/n. As if it was a silent command, Y/n put on her glasses, a small smile on her lips as she could finally see clearly.
Y/n placed a small kiss on Wanda’s thigh as a thank you. Together, the two continued to enjoy each other’s activities in the presence of each other.
Love is not always grand. Love is mostly kind. Feeling considered is something the heart will forever crave. And Wanda will always consider Y/n.
@halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog
@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me
@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha
@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff
@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy@olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya @reginassweetheart @milkeeteaa @alyciaddict @justgotlizzied
@msmothermaximoff @ielliesitchyeyereposts
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#Girlfriend!Reader x Wanda Maximoff#established relationship#Girlfriend!Reader#fluff#To Be Loved Is To Be Considered#mionemymind#wanda maximoff#marvel
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BSF!Nick HeadCanons
nick x fem!reader
disclaimer: this is all fictional, and based on my own conclusions.
warnings: kinda long, very very self-indulgent, pure fluff, swearing.
Nick as your best friend:
⚤ he loves to spend time with you, always asking you to come over and keep him company.
⚤ the two of you are so close and so comfortable with each other that you tell each other everything, the good, bad, and the ugly.
⚤ he’s protective, not overly, but you always know that you’re safe with him. he’s not letting any hate get to you, and if it does he’s always there to comfort you. he doesn’t hesitate to put haters in their place when it comes to you, not caring about any backlash it could cause him.
⚤ you both send tik toks and instagram reels back and forth all day long.
⚤ you share locations with each other, and anytime he checks and sees that you’re somewhere he doesn’t recognize he’s calling you immediately:
“bitch! where the fuck are you???”
“nick, are you fr checking my location again?”
“yes, now take your fast ass home”
⚤ when you’re sick, he’ll come over and help take care of you. attempting (failing) to make you soup, but then decides to just order in from panera. he’ll cuddle up with you while you watch movies or some reality tv show.
⚤ he’s always teasing and making fun of you, you both playfully argue so much that people on the outside think you actually hate each other.
⚤ you’re on the phone with each other for literal hours, whether it’s texting, on a call, or on FaceTime.
⚤ if you’re in college, he’ll make sure you stay on top of your studies. he’ll never let you put off schoolwork just to go hang out with him:
“nick come onnn, i can study when i get back, it’s fine i promise”
“un uhh, nope! you’re not gonna blame me when your ass fails”
“but ni-“
“GO STUDY Y/N”
⚤ he loves when you go shopping or thrifting together. he’ll pick out outfits for you to try, and you do the same for him. the both of you hyping each other up when you come out of the dressing rooms.
“yesss girl, you look so amazing in that dress!”
“says you, i love that shirt on you, it’s definitely your color!”
⚤ he’s a big foodie, and so are you. so breakfast and/or lunch dates are a staple in your friendship. he loves going to your favorite restaurant or cafe to just sit and talk about whatever and whoever. sometimes you like to try out new places and add them to your list.
⚤ he’ll send you flowers or candy on valentine’s day because he’s such a sweetheart, and never wants you to feel alone or unloved.
⚤ he’s always gassing you. he never hesitates to call you pretty or gorgeous, saying how much he loves your outfit, your hair, or your new bag. he’s your number one hype man for sure. you of course, are the same way with him never passing up an opportunity to let him know he’s so handsome and the baddest bitch.
⚤ you’re pretty much the ceo of the nick defense team, always on go when it comes to people being disrespectful towards him.
⚤ he’s basically your personal photographer. he loves taking your pictures for you, and you love to brag about his skills. he loves when you take pictures together as well, adding them to his photo dumps, giving very much bff goals.
⚤ since he doesn’t drive he loves riding with you, he even bought a “passenger princess” sticker to put on your glovebox just for shits and giggles. sometimes you guys would just spend the day riding out, blasting music and singing along, snacking on the random goodies you pick up along the way, just simply enjoying each others company.
“bitches be quick but i’m quicker”
“bitches be thick but i’m thicker”
*both*
“SHE COULD BE RICH BUT IM RICHER!”
⚤ if you’re in a relationship or get into one, he’ll be very protective over you, yet respectful of your relationship. he’ll make friends with them, and try his best to get along for the sake of your friendship. he’ll even plan group outings so you all can hang out together and get to know each other.
⚤ however, the second you call him in the night crying, he’s ubering over to your house to comfort you. he’ll hug you and wipe your tears, reassuring you that you deserve so much better than them.
“you’re amazing and i love you so much, y/n. you didn’t deserve that, and if you want, we can go egg their car right now”
“you get the eggs, i’ll start the car”
“BET!”
⚤ he doesn’t believe in fighting with friends. any arguments between the two of you wouldn’t last very long, you’ll always end up talking things out and laughing about it later.
⚤ he loves to include in the videos, especially any challenges they do like the baking videos. you always get front seat if you’re ever in the car videos, and he makes sure you get to speak.
⚤ he absolutely loves the bond you have with his brothers, and you would tease him about liking one of them solely to get on his nerves:
“matt has been looking really good lately..”
“y/n i swear to god…”
“what?? i’m just being real”
“i’ll actually kill you both”
“bitch, shutttt up! you love me too much”
“you’re right. now stop talking about matt before i throw the fuck up”
⚤ if the stars happen to align where you and one of his brothers fall in love and actually get together, he’ll be so annoyed at first, not willing to share you. eventually he’ll be okay with it, just happy that you both are happy, as long as you keep the pda out of his line of sight.
⚤ he fucking loves your cooking. he knows better than get in your way by trying to help so he’ll sit at the table and watch you. you don’t mind his company at all while you’re cooking, even letting him taste test which he never refuses. he’s constantly calling or texting to see what’s on your menu:
“please please PLEASE tell me you’re cooking tonight. i cannot eat in n out again”
“well, i guess i am now”
⚤ you always have him, matt, and chris over on Sunday’s. you love giving them the ultimate sunday dinner experience. you make sure you cook more than enough so they have some to take home as well.
⚤ any time one of you sees those cute and fun best friend date activities on tik tok or instagram, you’re instantly texting it to one another, making plans to try it out.
⚤ when you take him out to the club or a just night out with the girlies, he’s having the time of his life. he’s hyping you up while you’re dancing and throwing it in a circle. he’ll capture every second to show to you later cause you’re so gone you won’t remember a thing. the next day he’s asking you to teach him how to twerk like that for the next outing.
⚤ since you have similar music taste, you love going to concerts and festivals together. all in coachella with your matching crop tops and boots, turning heads left and right. you two are literally glued to the hip the whole weekend, holding hands and jumping around, dancing to the beat just loving the experience.
⚤ he absolutely loves sleepovers, and he’ll always be the one to suggest them. he’ll have a space for you in his closet and at his sink because of how often you stay over.
“bro is there a reason you called me 15 times??”
“uh is this the body scrub that you use? i’m gonna get it for my bathroom so you don’t have to keep bringing yours every time”
“nick, you really could’ve just tex-“
“YES OR NO??!”
⚤ whenever you sleep over, you always do your nighttime and morning skin routines together. ‘faerie soirée’ playing softly on the portable speaker while you go through your skincare steps, singing along, and swaying your hips to the beat.
⚤ he is obsessed with the different ways you style your hair. his jaw drops every time you pull up with something new. he was completely gobsmacked when you showed up with a 30 inch bust down after just rocking your natural fro, then two weeks later in some knotless braids down to your knees. he’s always asking your opinion on his next hair color, but you beg him to keep his natural hair for a while longer.
⚤ he always waits to get his nails done with you so you both can match. in the days before your appointments with analysse, he’s sending you different ideas he sees on pinterest for you both to choose from only to ultimately decide to just let analysse freestyle.
⚤ when it comes to his brand, space camp, he’s always giving you the sneak peeks. he’ll let you be the first one to try the newest flavor because he trusts your judgment, and knows that you’ll always be honest with him:
“okay, what about this one? did you like it?”
“friend, i ain’t gone hold you…that shit nasty as fuck”
“well damn bitch, tell me how you really feel. okay, we’ll scrap that one”
⚤ he loves when you come to boston with him to visit his family. mary lou and jimmy absolutely adore you, and so does all his hometown friends nate, mckayla, and chloe.
⚤ the snap streaks between you two go crazy. you’re both constantly snapping each other the most random shit.
⚤ he’s always telling you about the guys he’s crushing on or talking to. he’ll ask you if you think they’re cute or not, and wants advice on what to say to them. if they send him nudes, better believe he’s immediately sending them to you for you both to talk (or laugh) about:
“girl you won’t believe what he just sent me”
“ouuu how big is it?”
“bitch, i’ve seen baby carrots bigger than that”
“BLOCKED!”
⚤ on halloween, you guys love to find matching costumes (when he’s not matching with matt and chris) and sometimes the four of you would find costumes to match together.
⚤ on your birthday, don’t be surprised to find yourself plastered all over his story. he’s posting a photo dump of you together with a lil paragraph, going on and on about how amazing his best friend is. you’ll have gifts galore from him, matt, and chris.
⚤ he’s super supportive of whatever you do, helping you in any way you can to achieve whatever it is you need to.
⚤ he’s the perfect best friend and he takes the bond that you have very seriously, never letting anyone or anything jeopardize it.
🏷️: @muwapsturniolo @mattslolita @guccifrog @luverboychris @freshloveforthefit @matty-bear @sturniolossss @imsosillygoofylol @nickgetsmewetter @mybelovednick @moonk1ss3d @ghostking4m @certifiednatelover @meg-sturniolo
#mr stromboli#stromboli hc#sturniolo triplets#sturniolos#sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nick sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#a headcanon#bsf!nick hc
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hmmm....... top 5 short stories, for the ask game?
oooh. okay, thinking! (<- as many as several minutes after typing this out, future sparrow here to say: UH okay i have so many tabs open now! oops! i didn't realize i had so many short stories i liked! this turned out to be a bit trickier than anticipated, but in a fun way :] )
Termination Stories for the Cyberpunk Dystopia Protagonist by Isabel J. Kim - I Like It When There Are Stories About Stories. I Like Metafiction. I Like When Saying Something Is True Makes It So. I Like Weird Fucked Up Cities. And anyway, Isabel J. Kim just writes great stuff in general. I'm also obsessed with The Narrative Implications of Your Untimely Death.
Exhalation by Ted Chiang - There's something so lovely and gently curious about this one. A friend of mine sent me the link several years ago and I have never quite been able to stop thinking about death as an explosion of gold flakes.
Twilight Mirage Episode 63: Guaranteed Events, Or: An Accounting of the Time When We Built The Machine by Austin Walker - Every time people ask me for recs. I point at Friends At The Table Twilight Mirage. This is almost always cheating on account of It's A Podcast but LOOK THIS IS A STAND-ALONE SHORT STORY AND HERE'S THE TRANSCRIPT. I'm saying it counts. The last sentence stuck in me as soon as I heard it and has not unstuck from me since.
Alien Hand Syndrome by Molly Ofgeography - This world and these people are so specifically weird; it's unbelievably charming and I like it so so much.
L'Esprit de L'Escalier by Catherynne M. Valente - Retelling of Orpheus and Eurydice. There were a couple others I considered for this spot but I've been in a rotting bodies mood lately and this is REALLY good for that. Also type of thing I cannot stop thinking about. Came back wrong in the sense of 'the whole world knows she's supposed to be dead, herself included, and it wants to make this right.'
#chattering sparrow#gosh there's a bunch of catherynne m valente's stuff in her mechagirl collection that i really enjoyed#but i can't remember. any of it :(#anyway honourable mentions also go to the magician's apprentice (tamsyn muir of locked tomb fame) and the hydraulic emperor (arkady martine#of a memory called empire fame)#both also REALLY good#this list feels telling about me as a person but not sure i could say WHAT it tells you#thank you for the ask!! <3
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Kfkdks
#messages from knave#im making breakfast and im gonna list my observations from three years of weird living situations#younger siblings of big age gaps will see most interactions as a form of soft combat until trained out of it#but when actual clmbat happens they're used to not having any sway so they don't actually know how to act in arguments#siblings with codependent relationships have their own internal langauge that they apply to others. not sure if they realize they do it#but they'll hold you to the same rules they've mentally created for each other without explaining them#siblings of ALL stripes will approach situations with a set idea of how communication works. and even if it's not a logical way to communica#they'll expect you to also communicate in that way. and if you can't or refuse they'll shut down and communication stalls completely because#they can't fathom doing it any other way except the way they and their siblings socialized each other to do it#siblings with adversarial relationships don't take outside advice and will take attempts to give advice as manipulative. not their fault#oldest siblings are the most conflict averse people on the planet. oldest sinlings say#'is anyone gonna balloon this situation out of proportion by avoiding it for as long as possible' and not wait for an answer#siblings who were regularly appointed as hall monitors will see any interaction with you as transactional#a hallmark of a dysfunctional sibljng relationship is someone who thinks telling you NO is worse than going through a situation they do not#wanna be in. and then they'll complain about it endlessly#and then they'll be like 'i don't want favours from my parents because they'll hold it over me' and never make the connection on their own#people cannot anticipate your needs with their minds. they are sometimes going to ask you to be a part of things you don't wanna#you're NEVER gonna be able to live in a world where people will stop asking you to be a part of things that's not feasible#had one say once 'people should just know not to ask me along for plans I can't get to people should know not to invite me'#and you know dude that's just now how stuff works. there's a difference between 'x cant drive so they can't help me move my dresser' and#'i know xs work schedule so i shouldnt infomr them of group plansnon the off chance they could make it so they don't feel left out'#people with hyper competitive siblings can't fathom that other people won't know how to do stuff. i don't just mean athletes but siblings#with that scarcity mindsetnin general like they can't handle people not having the same knowledge base they have. it's a survival thing#and NO having a life of suffering doesn't make you correct all the time has literally anyone else watched heathers#youngest siblings always have the most deranged dating stories and the oldest in a set of age gap siblings always has the WORST taste in men#< that's directed at my sister and no one else that's a personal diss not a real observation#only children have one thing. theyre SUPER weird about splitting the grocery bill#food is NOT communal to only children I've learned firsthand. Also they'll be perfectly fine sharing anything else BUT food usually#weed. loans. bathroom supplies. dishes. ect. but NOT food#meanwhile sibljngs are a little TOO comfortable chowing down on stuff they didn't buy. bad roommates are bad roommates
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BATTLE SCARS
Part 2 of kinktober | main masterlist
What started out as innocently counting body scars with your coworker, who you were stuck in the same bed with, ended far from being innocent.
sub!spencer x fem!reader; Face sitting, male and female oral, body worship, cockwarming
words: 6,300 (I couldn’t help it the buildup was fun to write)
a/n: I hope this shows up on your page because apparently this app hates me
"THERE’S ONLY ONE ROOM LEFT."
Of course, there is, you thought, eyes glancing over to your partner of the day. Spencer was the one you were partnered with when Hotch had sent you to check on the victim's childhood home. He's good at deducing clues, was what your unit chief had said, and although those words were well-intentioned, you couldn't help but feel slightly dejected.
One month of working in the BAU meant that everyone would scrutinize you, even when you knew you were more than capable of doing the job. It wasn't like you were randomly picked for this position. You went through the same process as everyone else did. You were as smart as everyone was but it seemed that your boss still thought you needed a babysitter to do this simple task.
One month of working as the latest addition to the team also meant you didn't know your colleagues that well, which was why you wondered what was going through Spencer's mind in this current predicament. What did he think of the sudden thunderstorm hitting this remote town just as you were about to leave? What did he feel about having to seek shelter because driving in this terrible condition wasn't a choice anymore?
And what ran through his mind when the guy behind the counter, who looked like he didn't even want to be here in the first place, said there was only one room left?
"Are you sure?" Your coworker pressed on, eyes darting across the computer screen sitting on the desk. "Did you check every room? All of them?"
The man in front of him quirked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm not doing my job right?"
"No, he's not," you cut in. You glanced at Spencer, noticing he was constantly fidgeting on his feet. You might not know him well enough, but you were a profiler, and with the way he kept shifting his weight from one leg to another, you could tell he was uncomfortable with the situation. You wondered what had him so worked up like this. Was it the idea of having to spend the night with a woman?
Well, he did seem like the type of guy who didn't have his fair share of nights with the opposite sex, but then again, you weren't going to start guessing his personal life. Although you did once see him act all bashful in front of a witness who, you had to admit, was the epitome of sweet and innocent. Her traits were probably on the top list of his preferred type, exactly the opposite of yours.
Huh.
So was it just the idea of spending the night with you that ticked him off?
"It's fine," you said, looking back at—you narrowed your eyes at the name tag clipped on his shirt—Kevin. His name was Kevin. "We'll take it."
Spencer's eyes fell on you. "But—"
"But it's pouring outside and neither of us should be driving in this horrible weather," you added. "End of discussion."
He looked like he was about to retort a reply when a sudden string of light cackled through the night sky, followed by another heavy downpour. He winced as his shoulders slumped, another posture of discomfort but one with a hint of defeat. You saw him reluctantly nod from the corner of your eyes.
"Alright," he finally said. "We'll take it."
Kevin slid a key across the wooden desk. "Room 306."
You thanked him and grabbed onto the key before turning on your heels. The walk to the room was extremely quiet except for the constant sound of the rain pouring outside. Spencer shuffled his feet beside you, and even though you wanted to fill in the silence, the thought of him not wanting to room with you annoyed you more than you wanted to admit.
Were you really that bad? Was the idea of sharing a room with you repulsive for him to act this way?
When you finally reached your shared room, an immediate sense of awkwardness washed over you like an unexpected wave. The room, though not large, was well-furnished and neat. But what caught your attention was the sight that greeted you in the dimly lit space. In the center of the room was a bed—not large enough to be luxurious, yet not small enough to be cozy.
Your eyes met briefly with his and a moment of unease passed between you two. Finally, he broke the silence with a hesitant voice. "I can sleep in the car."
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his suggestion. "It's pouring outside."
"Right." He sighed, realizing the impracticality of his proposal. "Well, then I'll, uh, sleep on the floor."
"Reid." Your narrowed eyes fixed on him, your patience wearing thin. "The bed is big enough for the both of us. I don't mind sharing."
He paused, clearly taken aback by your straightforward response. "A-Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't," you replied, showing your back to him. "I'm going to use the bathroom first."
"U-uh, yes. Sure. Of course," he stammered, his voice trailing off as he watched you leave the room.
You retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. As you washed your hands and splashed some cool water on your face, you couldn't help but wonder what had led to his initial hesitance. The storm outside was fierce, and the idea of venturing into it to sleep in the car or on the floor seemed impractical, to say the least. You knew that sharing the bed was the most sensible option, but there was an unspoken tension in the room, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why he had been so reluctant.
Turning off the tap, you took a deep breath. Whatever. He could act all uncomfortable as much as he wanted and you could pretend he wasn't even there. So you decided to shed your jeans, leaving yourself in the oversized button-up shirt that served as your makeshift nightwear.
The shirt fell gracefully to the middle of your thighs, offering a sense of ease you couldn't find in your uncomfortable jeans. With them neatly folded and placed on the bathroom counter, you looked back into the mirror one last time, straightening your wrinkled shirt, and ran a hand through your hair before stepping back into the room.
You found him seated on the edge of the bed, his posture awkward and uncertain. You watched as he shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting toward the single window in the shared space, his eyes narrowing each time a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the pane.
You decided to break the silence. "You know, it's just a little rain. We'll be out of here as soon as the weather clears up tomorrow."
His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, in his eyes. "It's not about the rain," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation.
So it really was about you.
His gaze then traveled over your exposed skin, and you could see his eyes growing wide, clearly taken aback by your choice of attire. "W- What are you wearing?"
Unable to suppress a chuckle at his sudden shift in demeanor, you decided to play along. "Do you mean what I'm not wearing?"
He blinked, his response caught in his throat, leaving him momentarily speechless. His gaping mouth and wide-eyed expression only fueled your amusement. You shrugged in response, trying to play off his intense gaze, but you felt his eyes linger on your thigh, fixated on the long scar mapping along your skin.
"Reid," you called out, and he looked up at you, his expression wry as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.
"Y-yes?" he stammered, clearly flustered by being caught in the act.
You pointed toward the bathroom. "You can use it now," you suggested.
His face lit up with realization. "Oh! Right," he exclaimed, his flustered state evident as he stumbled on his way to the bathroom.
The awkwardness seemed to follow him as he disappeared into the other room. After turning off the main lights, you left only the soft glow of the bed lamp, which cast a warm ambiance in the room. The covers provided a sense of security and comfort as you finally settled beneath them.
A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a white shirt he seemed to wear under his button-down shirt. However, unlike you, he still had his pants on, although he did discard his belt.
Seeing him in this stripped-down, casual state was a bizarre sight. You had grown accustomed to his poised and professional demeanor, and the sight of him dressed in ordinary clothes seemed oddly intimate as if you were witnessing a side of him that few others had seen. It was as if you were seeing him naked even when he was still covered in most of his clothes.
He then settled onto the bed with a noticeable awkwardness, causing the mattress to sink down slightly under his weight. He lay far away from you, in a stiff and distant manner, clearly still grappling with the awkwardness of the situation.
"Reid, relax, I'm not going to bite you," you said reassuringly, trying to dispel some of the tension in the room. A small, playful smile danced on your lips. "Unless that's what you want me to do," you added, your voice taking on a teasing note.
A brief moment of silence followed, and it almost seemed as if he was contemplating your playful offer. You felt the tension shift into something else, but before it could further linger, you decided to break the silence with a forced laugh, shaking off the tension. You then rolled over to your side, closing your eyes shut, ignoring the sound of heavy rain hitting the window and the bolt of lightning occasionally flashing through the sky. You just wanted to rest. You just wanted peace. You wanted to sleep.
But sleep didn't want you.
About ten minutes later, you groaned softly and rolled over onto your back. "Reid," you said, breaking the silence.
He hummed in response.
"I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice carrying a hint of restlessness. Turning to face him, you propped yourself up on your elbow. "Tell me something about yourself," you suddenly requested, your curiosity cutting through the awkwardness.
He hesitated for a moment as if considering whether he should respond to you or not, but then he eventually asked, "Anything?"
"Anything."
"Well, I—uh," he cut off, and with a faint hint of modesty, he began again. "I'm extremely smart."
From all the information he could share, he decided to share that. But it was still something, at least you could get your coworker to talk instead of fidgeting in discomfort. "Yeah? How smart?"
"Well, I have an IQ of 187 and three PhDs."
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's impressive," you responded, but then you let out a scoff. "And extremely conceited. Someone asks you to share a fact about yourself and you decide to brag about your brain."
Your remark earned you a small, amused smile from him. "You told me to share anything."
With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in a little closer. "Alright, your turn."
He gulped at your sudden movement but kept his attention on your eyes. "My turn for what?"
You laid on your back again. "Ask me something," you suggested.
There was a moment of hesitation as if he had been contemplating whether to ask the question and then his voice filled the air. "What happened to you?"
"What do you mean?" You asked, your brows furrowed slightly.
"Y-Your scar."
You couldn't resist a teasing tone as you turned your head toward him. "Spencer Reid," you taunted, a playful glint in your eye. "Were you checking me out?"
His response was quick and slightly flustered. "What? No!" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was a mere observation," he clarified, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.
Your laughter filled the room, a light, and genuine sound that seemed to dissolve some of the remaining tension in the air. "Alright, alright," you conceded, still amused by the exchange. "Observation duly noted."
Without warning, you kicked off the covers, a spontaneous decision driven by a mix of curiosity and the playful atmosphere that had developed between you. Your actions were unanticipated, even to yourself, but perhaps it was his flustered self that had spurred you on.
As the covers fell to the side, you extended your leg, showing him the white scar dancing along the inner part of your thigh. His eyes widened in surprise, his gaze drawn to your exposed skin. For a moment, there was silence, as if the room held its breath, and then he met your eyes.
"Fell off a cliff from a hiking trip," you explained, your voice softening with the memory. "I was exploring a trail and had a bit of a mishap. It left me with this scar as a souvenir."
His eyes flickered over the scar. "Did it hurt?"
You shrugged. "It did, but I guess I got through it."
Then, to his surprise, you began to unbutton your shirt. His eyes widened in disbelief at your actions. "W-what are you doing?"
You merely grinned in response, your confidence unwavering. You pushed the material of your shirt off your shoulder, revealing another scar, smaller and darker than the one on your thigh. "This is the most painful one," you explained. "A bullet from a handgun."
He examined the scar intently. "What happened?"
"A chase with a suspect a few years ago," you recounted, recalling your life before you joined the BAU. "We cornered the suspect in an abandoned warehouse, it was a tense standoff. He was armed, and in the chaos of the moment, a shot was fired." You gave him a smile. "I was the unlucky one in the way."
Your eyes locked with one another in a moment of shared understanding, and then you asked, "What about you? Any battle scars?"
He paused for a moment, considering your question. He seemed hesitant at first as if debating whether to share, but then he slowly lifted his shirt, revealing a scar on his lower abdomen. "Flying bullet."
He turned slightly, revealing a slight scar on his lower back, the result of a sharp weapon grazing his skin. It was a subtle yet significant mark. "An Unsub armed with a knife." He then laid back on his back again and tapped his right leg. "There's another scar from a bullet on my knee."
You couldn't help but tease him lightly, your tone playful. "Well, aren't you a magnet for disaster?"
His expression softened at your teasing. You stared at each other silently, taking in each other's presence in the close proximity the bed offered. You weren't sure how, or when for the matter, but it seemed the distance you both created grew shorter in the span of time you were talking.
Your gaze drifted over his features, from his brown orbs to his pointed nose, then along his high cheekbones before settling on the small scar underneath his jawline. It was a subtle mark, but it caught your attention, and you couldn't resist reaching out to gently touch it.
"What about this?" you inquired, your finger tracing the scar. "How did you get it?"
His breath seemed to catch at your sudden touch, and he stammered slightly in response, "I-I cut myself with a razor this morning."
You couldn't help but chuckle at his explanation, and your finger continued to graze his skin, skimming along the faded scar in a circular motion. "And how bad did it hurt?" you asked.
"Not so much," he whispered, his breathing starting to become uneven and it was at that moment you realized how compromising of a position you were in. He was on his back, and somehow you managed to press yourself onto him with a leg resting on his, your hips flushed against his side.
Maybe the rain, the rhythmic pattern of the raindrops beating in synchronized with your heart pushed your actions. Or perhaps it was being in the same bed. Whatever it was, the undeniable proximity between you created a charged atmosphere in the room. Every breath felt heavy, and the air seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, drawing you even closer.
You wanted to kiss him. How could you not when he was looking at you with those eyes? It was hard to ignore this sudden pull of attraction, but Spencer seemed like the type of guy who rarely made the first move. Maybe you needed to initiate it first.
"You know..." you began, your eyes trailing across his tiny scar. "I was thinking of kissing it better?" Your words hung in the air, and you felt him stiffen beside you. "If it was painful, that is."
A charged silence enveloped the room after your suggestive offer. Your heart raced, taking a leap at the first step in crossing the line. He could either play along or push you away, it was a risk you were willing to take, and you prayed he was into it just as you were.
"A- Actually," he stuttered. "I think I'm starting to feel the pain now."
You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling. "Oh, you poor thing." And before he could respond, you bent over and pressed your soft lips against his scar. You felt him momentarily freeze. "Better?"
You thought he was about to back away when he didn't answer, but then his words had you grinning from ear to ear.
"...I'm not sure," he replied, his voice cutting through the silence. "I think it still hurts?"
Your smile grazed his scar again, softly, barely even touching it, before you trailed down his jawline, stopping on the crook of his neck.
"I.." He breathed out, his voice sounding strangled as you felt his grip on your hip. "I-I don't think that's where the scar is."
"I know." You opened your mouth, your tongue slightly tasting his skin. "I'm making a scar of my own."
Your parted lips were hot against his skin, his eyes fluttering close as you softly sucked on the spot below his ear. You always loved receiving neck kisses, but giving them? There was a certain sense of power to be able to make someone shiver under you, and it was what he was doing right now, breath hitching every time you sucked on a different spot.
You cupped his face as you continued to trail your lips along his neck, pressing your body closer to his. You moved your hand lower, fingers grazing his jawline before it rested around his throat, and as you put slight pressure on your hold, you heard him inhale sharply. You paused, not sure you were hearing right, but then you tightened your grip around his neck and a soft, strangled moan escaped his lips.
You smiled.
Spencer Reid, you naughty, kinky boy.
"We can stop if you want," you murmured against his skin because truthfully, you knew you couldn't restrain yourself after this.
"N- no," he sighed. "Don't stop."
It was enough for you to throw your leg over him. You lifted yourself up and straddled his lower half, stifling a moan as you felt the hard pressure between your thighs, and pressed your lips against his. You couldn't stop yourself from kissing him with so much fervor. Your lips collided with his as you pushed your tongue inside his opened mouth—tasting him, exploring him, devouring him. Who would've thought you would enjoy kissing your coworker this much?
You pulled away and studied him. Spencer was a blessing to witness. His eyes were heavy and hooded, his hair was disheveled with some strands stuck to his forehead and his lips were swollen and parted as he breathed slowly through them. His pale complexion bore the marks of a flush and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing away a strand of hair from his face.
"You're so pretty." Those words came out of your mouth without much thought in which you received a breathless sigh in return.
"You're.... you're more pretty."
You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair. "You understand I'm not going to stop now, right?" He faintly nodded. "And do you know what that means?"
He shook his head.
"It means I'm going to fuck you," you taunted, a wicked smile curling on your lips. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to use that smart brain of yours.”
The whine flying out of his mouth was enough for you to lean in closer, your lips extremely close to his but not quite touching. "Can I be rough?" His strangled whimper had you wrapping your hand around his throat again. "Use your words, baby."
"Y-yes," he breathed out. "Please."
"Good."
You pulled your hand back and brought it down sharply on his cheek. The sound startled you because it sounded harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.
Spencer looked genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, jaw falling open. He blinked himself back into focus and you were about to ask if you were being too much, but then he looked at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The dazed and desperation of his gaze moved right through you, flushing you with heat.
"Such a pretty boy for me," you said, gently rubbing his cheek. You watched him, a curious smile playing at the corners of your lips. In that moment, you felt a peculiar sense of power and intimacy that was unlike any other you had experienced. It was an odd but exhilarating sensation, feeling an almost illicit delight in the power you held over him.
You then slowly straightened yourself. Taking your time, you began to unbutton your shirt as his gaze burned into you. You popped each button open until it left the sight of your black, laced bra on display for his eyes to devour. Your bra showed a hint of skin over the top, bouncing a little as you pulled yourself out of your shirt.
You reached behind your back to unhook your bra before slipping it from your shoulders, allowing your breasts to bounce free. Spencer couldn't help but swipe his tongue across his lips at the sight. Your breasts were on display with hardened, aching nipples to taunt him. You brought them in your palms, playing and squeezing your flesh for a moment just to tease him.
"Do you want to taste me?"
He let out a desperate sigh. "Please."
You placed the palm of your hands on his chest before leaning in, dropping your breasts right in front of his face. It didn't take him long to know what you wanted, and he quickly wrapped your right nipple in his mouth, his tongue hot against your skin.
"Fuck, Spencer," you moaned. You shivered upon the contact. His mouth sucking on your nipple was making your head delirious. Warmth spiraled from your core to the rest of your body as he tasted you, and when you thought you couldn't feel more aroused than you already were, he let go of your swollen nipple just to give his attention to the other one, sucking even harder.
You couldn't handle it anymore. A moment later your fingers ran down his chest, brushing over his stomach to feel him tense beneath your touch until the second you grip the hem of his pants. "Take these off for me."
You had never seen someone move so fast before. The moment you climbed off the bed, he started peeling his clothes from his body piece by piece. He left no article on before throwing his clothes to the floor, eyes raking your body as you stood before him in nothing but your panties. Those were quick to go, however. You pushed them down your hips and flicked the thin fabric past your feet.
A strained groan filled his chest as he looked at you, marveling at your naked form with wonder. Thoughtlessly he wrapped a hand around the base of his hardened cock and your eyes instantly take in the sight. The way he was biting his bottom lip, fingers around his thick, hard length had your mouth watering, but you stopped yourself from giving in.
"Who said you could touch yourself?"
His body tensed. He quickly placed his hands on the bed as you climbed back on the bed, the mattress sinking in from your weight.
“I like to be warmed up a little first," you told him as you settled on top of him again, but this time, you scooted further, putting your knees on either side of his head. Spencer's eyes went wide as he looked up to see you wet and bare, hovering inches away from his face.
"I'm going to sit on your face, and if you can make me come on your tongue..." You started to lower yourself. "I'll give you your reward."
You felt his breath on your center, and the minute his tongue touched you, you let out a moan. He worked his tongue over your clit, swallowing every drop of arousal dripping down his mouth. You gripped the headboard and rocked yourself back and forth while he continued to lap on your pussy without any care for the mess you made. You were wet and sloppy as his tongue moved in and out of you, up and down your folds while also sucking on your swollen clit.
"Oh my god," you moaned, looking down at where you could see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he groaned on your flesh, wrapping his arm around your thighs while never stopping stroking your wetness with his tongue. He held you tight, keeping you in place, and there was nothing else you could do but buck your hips as you ran your hands through his hair and tugged on the strands, receiving a deep, rough yet excited groan from him.
You exhaled his name, not being able to find the words or the breath in you to speak as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach. He flicked his tongue over your clit a few times before gathering up your juices and circling back to the swollen bud, massaging your flesh with the flat of his tongue. You felt the bliss swelling inside your body. You knew you wouldn't last much longer.
"I'm getting close," you warned him, beginning to grind your pussy against his mouth. He groaned against your flesh, sending vibrations through your body in return, and with a few more laps around your clit, you finally reached your high.
You felt the warmth from between your legs surge through your whole body. Your pussy walls tightened as you kept rocking your hips against him, whimpering, moaning, crying out that you were coming. You shivered and trembled above him, tossing your head back, gripping his hair even tighter, and pressing your thighs together around his head.
It took a moment for you to come down from your orgasm, and as you did, his motions slowed down, licking you gently, his hands soothing down your thighs. You finally lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.
"You did so well," you cooed. You slowly shifted down his body, and when he thought you were about to straddle him again, you surprised him by moving lower.
“Let me give you your reward." You sighed while wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock in a firm grip. "You deserve it."
He felt so hot in your hand, so thick, so big, and utterly beautiful. You slowly moved your hand along his length, stroking him gently as you watched his lips parting open from the pleasure. You continued to stroke him, motions slow and steady, and he eventually closed his eyes, head falling back against the bed. You swiped your thumb across the tip, his eyes shot open as he looked at you.
"Keep your eyes on me."
He carefully propped himself on his elbows to get a better view just as you gripped him tighter while leaning close. The droplet of wetness on the tip looked too nice to be ignored so you leaned in and licked it up, your eyes meeting his gaze, and his jaw slacked open in pure pleasure. A pause settled in the room before you finally took him fully in your mouth, giving him an exploratory suck.
You kept swallowing him down, your jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth, wrapping your hand around what was left. You hollowed your cheeks and greedily inhaled him. His smooth, warm length slid across your tongue and his cock hit the back of your throat.
Without warning his hips jerked up, and you gagged, rearing back off with a cough, eyes watering. "I'm s-sorry," he apologized.
"It's okay, baby, I'm giving you your reward," you whispered before holding his throbbing cock in your grip again. "Hold my hair up for me?"
He did exactly as he was told, gathering your hair in his hands. Your mouth enclosed around him again and you repeated the movement, trailing down his cock with your tongue, hands twisting back and forth, lips sliding back down until you had every inch of him in your mouth.
You glanced up at him, brow-raising mischievously as you moved your head in a rapid motion. He panted out a whine, his chest heaving as he inhaled a lung full of desperately needed air.
"Please..." he whimpered, bucking up ever so slightly. His cheeks burned at the sound of his own desperation. You gazed up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, so pretty and needy. He blinked down at you, your cheeks flushed and lips stretched wide, an utterly obscene sight as you kept swallowing the entire length of him.
And then you felt him starting to shake, his body trembling while the grip on your hair tightened at every stroke of your tongue. You could tell he was on the brink of exploding, yet you didn't want him to finish inside your mouth, so you pulled away just as quickly as you began.
You could tell he was about to whine a protest, but he immediately stopped himself as you climbed on his lap, gripping his cock in your hand and guiding it towards your aching pussy. But then you stopped, eyes meeting with his, your voice softening. "Should I use a condom?"
"You can..." he mumbled as if it was hard to even articulate any words when his tip was already brushing against your wetness. "You can do whatever you want."
You lingered for a moment, grinding yourself against the tip of him, getting wetter as your arousal dripped out. "I want to feel you."
The whimper he let out was loud, almost pornographic. "I want to feel you too."
Then you began to slide his cock into you, slowly, taking your time to draw the moment out. Your body went tense in an instant, you could hardly handle the way his size was pushing into you.
"Fuck, you're stretching me," you moaned the words, tossing your head back while closing your eyes. The content sigh leaving your lips was loud when his tip finally hit that soft spot. You had never felt this full before and you wanted to soak in the way he was filling you so deep, so you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as you sit there with his cock stuffed inside of you.
For you, it felt nice, but for him, it was torture. As warm as you were, as tight as you clenched him, he still needed more. With urgency, he reached for your body before his eager hands landed on your hips, a groan of desperation built in his throat as you stayed there, not moving a muscle. "Can... can you move?"
You kissed a spot below his ear. "Why should I?"
"I-I..."
"Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want." Your tone was soft, but you didn't drop the entirety of your dominance. "Do you want me to ride you? Is that it? You want me to fuck you senseless?"
"Yes," he rasped out as if he had been holding his breath. "Please..."
You gripped him by the throat. "Say it."
"Pl-please fuck me," he gasped, gulping for air.
You smiled.
"Good boy," you replied. You began moving against his cock, grinding yourself over his lap, feeling him fill you up and hit deep inside you. It was almost too much but you remained focused. Your palms pressed to his shoulders as you pushed yourself up, moving your hips against his body.
He could feel you squeezing him. Every roll of your hips, every flutter of your walls, and every moan that rumbled from your chest. His huge palms wandered over the small planes of your back, caressing every dip and roll of your body. His eyes glazed over to where you were connected, the sight of your pussy clenching around every inch of him lulled him into a bewitching trance.
Soon you found a somewhat steady rhythm, circling your hips and grinding down on him faster, picking up your pace. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage and the concoction of arousal running down your thigh and dripping onto his legs.
"God, you're going to make me come so quick," you cried, your hand lowering between your thighs to reach your clit. With two fingers, you began to massage your flesh while bouncing down his cock, riding him, feeling the tip so deep within your walls. You let loose, moaning and whimpering. He couldn't help but groan, feeling your walls tighten around him, feeling your juices drip down his groin.
You felt him thrust upward towards you, following your pace, and a second orgasm started building low in your stomach. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the edge of your toes. It thrummed every nerve, vibrating you to the bone. "Fuck, I'm close."
His breath quickened as he felt your walls clenching him, his eyes brushing every inch of your body. You were such a sight to see. He was entranced by the way you were thrusting yourself on his cock, your breasts bouncing from the movement, your taut nipples begging for attention. He couldn't stop himself when he suddenly pulled you in, momentarily surprising you, and sucked onto your nipple hungrily.
You cried out when you felt his teeth softly tugging your nub. You were supposed to be in control, and you still wanted to keep your dominance, but it was hard to when he suddenly planted his feet on the bed and thrust his hips into you at a mind-numbing speed. Harshly. Roughly. Violently.
"Fucking hell, Spencer," you moaned, holding onto his shoulders. "I-I'm gonna—"
His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed onto his unruly hair, tugging it back roughly before smearing open-mouthed kisses all over his throat and collarbones, voicing out your whimpers right into his ear.
That was enough for him—he came undone, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled into you, filling you completely with warmth with one last thrust. You followed him with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. Your movements became sloppy and uneven, clinging onto him as you chased your own high.
The room smelt of sex. It was your first thought when you finally felt your body relaxing, your mind coming back to its senses. Never, not even once in your life, have you ever considered kissing Spencer willingly.
Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he had the most amazing eyes, and yes, his soft demeanor did attract you the first time you met him, but that was it. He was simply your coworker, one you didn't know that well, one who seemed to make a big deal out of spending the night with you... and ironically, one who had you shaking in pleasure.
You weren't sure what would happen next. At first, you thought your presence ticked him off in the wrong way because you were the new, inexperienced member of the team... but now you couldn't help but speculate the way he acted differently towards you had something to do with what just happened.
Maybe he didn't think of you as a mere colleague... maybe he thought of you as someone potentially more? You could be right, or you could be wrong, and there was only one way to find out. You softly let your fingers brush his cheek.
"You need to take me out on a proper date," you suggested through the silence. Then a smile bloomed on your face when you felt him dip his head in your palm.
The nod he gave you couldn't be anymore faster.
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x reader smut#criminal minds smut
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𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑
➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone)
➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.)
➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries
➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this.
➸ WC: 2k
❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.
"Oh, yeah? What about?"
"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”
“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.
“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”
You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”
“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”
“I would.” More than he knows.
It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.
Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.
You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.
The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.
You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.
He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.
You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.
The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.
And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.
He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.
Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”
His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”
You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.
(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)
And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.
Of course, you take your job very seriously.
You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”
“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.
“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”
“The verdict, then?”
“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”
Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.
You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.
“You gonna treat me or what?”
Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.
The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.
Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.
“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”
But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”
You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.
You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?
But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.
“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.
He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.
After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.
Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.
And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.
“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.
Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x you#simon riley fluff#simon riley fic#cod x reader#cod fic#call of duty fic#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw x reader#cod mw fanfiction#cod mw 2
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Okay I am going to use the Somerton situation to talk about something that is very important to me. Following the discussion I have seen former Somerton fans being disappointed in themselves and questioning how they can ever trust another video essayist again. I have also seen some people being smug because to them Somerton was obviously unreliable from the start. As a person who also saw the "red flags" in Somerton, I would like to skip the smugness and talk a bit about what the red flags were to me.
Someone else has probably posted something similar and Hbomberguy's & Todd in the Shadows's videos touched a few of these points, but they didn't focus on them or how to spot these things. I think it is a good thing: I think it would have reinforced the idea that Somerton's fans were to blame for being lied to, and these youtubers didn't want to pin any blame on the fans. Also, some of the things I'm going to talk about were not by any means proof of him being unreliable, they were common tropes I personally associate with people who are bullshitting on internet. Think of it as something like spotting terfs: If you consider following a tumblr user and find out they have at some point posted "males will always be a danger to females no matter what they say", it is very possible that they are not a terf. Maybe they were having a bad day and were just wording their post badly – But you should probably search "trans" from their blog before following them, just to be sure.
So, the tropes in James Somerton's content that I consider red flags:
Lack of sources. This one may seem obvious and Hbomb talked about this in his video, but the lack of sources in his videos was outrageous. Video essays are called essays for a reason, they are not supposed to be just a guy talking about whatever comes to his mind, they should be well researched essays. Obviously video essays should contain one's own thoughts and interpretations and those do not need citations. But James Somerton didn't come out of the womb knowing everything about LGBT history, Disney and film theory, if he actually knew something about all this stuff, he should have learnt it from somewhere. There should be sources he could point to. It is very common that even when a video essayist doesn't tell you where they got all their information, they open their video by saying stuff like "when I prepared for this video I read the book Also sprach Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche and this one thrilling blog post about lesbian cruising in 1960s Sweden". From what I've seen, James does not really do this. From watching his videos you could arrive to the conclusion that James Somerton does not read any books, he just knows everything. There are situations where people don't feel the need to add sources, like when the information is considered common knowledge or when the topic relates heavily to the essayist's actual academic field or profession. This is okay and very understandable, but can sometimes be dangerous, since if the video essayist markets himself as a marketing specialist, people are more likely to take his word for stuff that has to do with marketing, even without sources. It is understandable that in many situations an essayist may think "why should I cite a source? I know this thing!", but doing your research well is partly about checking if the information you are certain of is actually true. Also, as Hbomb pointed out, if you can cite a source, your audience can go learn more about the subject. It's not about anyone doubting you know your stuff, it's about learning. That's why well-respected video essayists usually cite their sources very clearly.
Lack of pictures and screenshots. This is about different kinds of sources again, many things on this list are kind of about sources. An example: When James Somerton made a video about JKR, he mentioned something about Rowling at one time saying that trans students in 30-50Feralhogs (or whatever the wizard school is called) could use magic to present as their gender. If this was any other video essayist, you'd expect a tweet to pop up, or something else confirming Rowling ever said this. Nothing pops up, obviously because Rowling didn't say this, but you can't see anything fishy in that because things rarely pop up in Somerton's videos. He doesn't show you court documents when speaking about a court case, he doesn't show you the comments apparently mad at him for implying the gay anime is gay when he is complaining about people being mad at him. There is a reason people show screenshots and tweets in video essays. When a good video essayist says JK Rowling has tweeted that all people who menstruate should be referred to as women, the video essayist shows the tweet so people know they are not making it up. If there were hoards of annoying bitc-- I mean, angry white women whining about gay sex in HuffPost articles or Somerton's youtube comments, he should have no trouble showing you those. Remember that you should not trust someone just because they show you pictures or screenshots. Pictures can be photoshopped, screenshots can be doctored. Many youtubers are aware that you listen to their videos while cleaning or while walking your dog and don't actually see the screen all the time, and some may take advantage of that by saying something like "and here she threatened to kill me" while showing a text message where someone said "die mad about it". A screenshot alone isn't much but you should demand to see the screenshot.
Passive voice. I am once again bitching about this. Somerton repeatedly says things like "it's been said that" or "it was common knowledge that" or "a legend says that" or "according to most interpretations". He doesn't say who says it, making it very hard to fact check and that seems to be his goal in some cases.
Relying heavily on anecdotes. Writing a dense, analytical video about film theory or history can be exhausting and you may want to pepper in little fun facts. However Somerton seemed to rely on these heavily; he can't just talk about how he has totally bought every lie told by The Pink Swastika, he also needs to tell a cute little anecdote about SS men forcing sexual favours out of men. He can't just tell a story about a court case, he needs to add in ridiculous stuff about the jury booing. This is what I mean by not all the things on this list being necessarily proof of someone being unreliable. Many people use anecdotes and little stories in their storytelling, it makes the videos flow better and it's hard to decide which anecdotes are valid and which are not. A source obviously makes an anecdote a bit more believable, but here are some things that instantly make me fact check an anecdote:
It's a bit too convenient, poetic or ironic. Sometimes real life is weirder than fiction but if an anecdote is "perfect" and has an amazing punchline and you could write twelve poems about it, there is a possibility it was invented by pop science books.
It assumes your political enemies are stupid. Dunking on conservatives, MRAs and transphobes is always fun and after you've seen a lot of this kind of content it's easy to believe anything about these people. You must resist the impulse to believe everything that may make your opponents look stupid.
The person telling the anecdote implies it is an example of a larger, systemic problem. You know what's worse than taking a random happenstance from human history or internet and basing an entire political theory on it? The said random happenstance being made up. You should in general be wary of people telling one story and explaining why it's an example of everything that's wrong in the world. We live in a huge world. You can always find a white woman who loves cute gays but hates the idea of Nick Heartstopper and Charlie Heartstopper getting nasty but that doesn't mean it's an indicator of a larger issue.
Simplifying complex issues. We all know that "only the boring gays survived the AIDS crisis, and that's why gays started to only care about marriage equality and military" is a horrible, insensitive thing to say, but you also have to think about it for like two seconds to realize that it can't be correct. It kind of reminds me of the "roe v wade caused the crime drop of 1990s" claim in Freakonomics. It sounds logical and simple, like a basic math calculation. Societal issues rarely are like that, though. You should never believe anyone who tells you about a huge societal shift and says it happened because of one thing and one thing only.
These were some of the things I noticed in Somerton's content that caused me to distrust him. I hope these were helpful to you and feel free to add your own "red flags" if you feel like it!
#phew. maybe that's enough salt for one day.#james somerton#hbomberguy#todd in the shadows#edit:// embarrassingly many mistakes in the original post. in my defence i have a fever and english isn't my first language. forgive me#edit2:// made the text bigger!
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Part 4 of Mafia!Price
No Content Warnings
There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.
He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.
You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.
Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.
“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”
You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.
“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”
He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.
Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.
Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.
“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”
Will need to call later today — as if!
“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.
He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.
“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.
You blink. Are you what?
“Tomorrow, sir?”
He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”
When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.
“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”
You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.
“I do now.”
Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.
“Of course you’re coming along.”
“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”
“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”
“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”
“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”
You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.
“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”
“‘Fancy man party’?”
“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”
You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.
“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”
You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.
“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”
You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.
“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”
“Sounds great, luv.”
You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”
He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”
—
Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.
“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”
He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.
He snorts. “My job happened.”
You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”
You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.
He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.
“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”
He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.
The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.
“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”
You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”
But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.
It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.
You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.
“Sir?” you call.
“In here, luv.”
You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.
“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.
You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.
It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.
“E-evening, sir.”
He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.
“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”
You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.
“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”
You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.
“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.
“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”
They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.
“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”
They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.
“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.
“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.
Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.
“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.
“The silver and diamond.”
You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”
A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”
You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.
“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”
You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”
“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.
You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”
He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.
“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.
You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.
“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”
You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.
“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.
Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.
“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”
He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.
“That bad, eh?”
“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.
“Gift from an ex,” he explains.
You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.
“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.
He snorts. “Maybe.”
You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.
“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.
“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.
You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.
You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.
Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.
“Pass inspection?” He asks.
“Barely,” you tease.
His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.
“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”
“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.
You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.
“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.
“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”
You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”
Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.
Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.
“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”
You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#oddly wholesome for a mafia au#mafia!au#mafia boss price#assistant reader
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List of “mix of random dialogue and non-dialogue, smut and non-smut” prompts
“I’m a mess because of you.” “You’re my mess.” “I’m… I’m your mess.” (FUCKING HELLO BITCH DO NOT- WLKFNFKLN I’ll get on my knees for you, my love—)
“That’s my baby girl/baby boy.” (Can he just— HEWOQKNFWKELNF)
“You look so hot like that.”
“God, you turn me on so much.”
“Fuck, I’m gonna come—” Character B whimpers, hips bucking into Character A’s. “Mm, yeah? Then come for me,” Character A murmurs, stroking their fingers through Character B’s hair. (The noises he made as he came undone were SO FUCKING HOT BYE. those WHIMPERS?? FUCKING DELICIOUSSSSS LET ME HEAR MORE OF THEM, I BEG- ALSO WHO KNEW I HAD IT IN ME TO SAY THAT TO SOMEONE LMFAO, “then come for me” WQBHRELWJKNEWF BITCH. GET OUTTT-)
Those sweet little noises Character B tries so hard to suppress but is unable to as they come undone.
“I’m such a fucking wreck right now…”
“Imagine how good I’d feel inside of you.” (FUCKIFKSKSKKSKSKS WHEN HE SAID THAT AND I WAS LIKE LKENFKLEWNF-)
“I love you so much,” Character B murmurs, hugging Character A closer to them. (🥹🥹🥹 HE SAID IT HE SAID IT HE SAID ITTT 😭 He’s said it over text before but now it’s in person and I’m actually gonna WEEP EWKLNFWEEFN)
“I love you for you, and I’m going to continue to love you. I’ll always love and support you no matter what,” Character B reassures after Character A spills out their anxieties and worries to them about a situation they’ve been so, so scared to tell them about; scared of how Character B would react. (…I’m just going to say I love this man so much.)
“When I first met you, I didn’t know you were like this,” Character A murmurs, slowly grinding their hips down against Character B’s. Character B grins up at them, hands wrapped around their thighs, squeezing gently. “Yeah, and I didn’t know I was like this, either. And I thought you were shy when I first met you... Now look at you, huh?”
Character A not knowing how sensitive their breasts are until Character B pays full attention to them with their mouth. (…I WILL NOT SAY ANYTHING ELSE BUT FUCK YES—)
Character A tearing up as they try to be vulnerable with Character B, and Character B reassuring them by telling them they can take their time and it’s okay if they can’t say it right now; that they can say it when they’re ready.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so enamoured by someone,” Character A murmurs, caressing Character B’s face. (I’M A POETIC SIMP, WHAT CAN I SAY—)
“Fuck, why are you— Mmh— why are you doing this to me?”
“We can take things as slow as you want. I want you to be comfortable, and as long as you’re happy, then I’m happy.” (PLEASE WJDJJS IM CRYING AHH, how’d I get someone so sweet sjkdms)
“We can rent a hotel somewhere… You can be as loud as you want then, hm?” (HE’S JUST FUCKING OUT HERE, YOUR HONOUR!!)
“Fuck me,” Character A whimpers as Character B’s hips picks up with speed. “I could if you wanted me to,” Character B grunts. (SIR- FUCK OFF ISTFGGG)
Character B placing their hand on Character A’s thigh while they’re sitting down.
Character B wrapping their arm around Character A’s shoulders and pulling them closer to them, letting Character A rest their head on their shoulder.
Character B leaning in for a kiss and Character A shyly leaning in to give them a quick peck on the lips.
“Whatever I do, I’ll always be adorable to you, won’t I? Even if I do the most heinous shit known to mankind—” “Yes. Yes, you’ll always be adorable to me.”
“You sure you don’t wanna close the blinds? People outside could see us…” “Trust me, they won’t.” (this FUCKING GUY, but I guess he wasn’t wrong after I took a closer look at the blinds—)
“You’re enjoying yourself up there, aren’t you?” Character B teases, watching through hooded lids as Character A rides them while clothed. “Does it look like I am?” Character A questions, breathless.
“You just… You make me happy.” (YOU DO TOO, MY LOVE <333)
“You’ve always been so caring and supportive of me so I don’t know why I doubted you… I’m sorry.”
Character A being ticklish on their neck whenever Character B plants soft feather like kisses there, so Character B plants even more soft kisses there, turning Character A into a giggling mess.
Kisses on the eyelids. (The softest shit EVER)
“Didn’t realise your objective was to get into my pants all this time,” Character B teases, and Character A rolls their eyes, a breathless laugh leaving them. “You know that’s not true. I think you’re the one who has the objective of getting into my pants,” Character A throws back. Character B shakes their head with a chuckle. “That’s not true.”
“How are we gonna manage being away from each other for a whole month?” Character A murmurs softly. “Mmmh, we’ll somehow manage,” Character B reassures, stroking their fingers through Character A’s hair.
“How are you going to manage without this for a whole month?” Character B questions as Character A grinds down on them. “I don’t think I fucking will is the thing,” Character A admits, unabashedly.
Character B moving Character A’s hair out of their face to plant gentle kisses on their face.
Character B laying their head on Character A’s stomach and Character A fondly saying to them, “You’re such a baby,” while carding their fingers through their hair.
Character B snuggling up next to Character A, post-orgasm. (SIRRRR- PEHFLKEWNELKWNF)
Character A moaning Character B’s name and Character B losing their self-restraint over it. (Maybe I did it on purpose to turn him on—)
#long post#tried adding comments under the “keep reading tag” as footnotes but that didn't work out very well so here we are e;lfgmlr;emf#based on personal experience HEHEHAHAGAHA#im running out of names for these lists ffs#cat guy chronicles#just realised a lot of this is smutty than not-smutty lmfao#smut prompts#suggestive prompts#dialogue prompts#fluff prompts#otp prompts#writing scenarios#writing prompts
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You tell the Old Men you're Pregnant + Extra
Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk
Just Fluffy Fluff!
Also to those who are saying "They aren't even old!" Blah Blah- I know. I'm using Old Ironically cause it's funny. Middle Aged just don't have the same ring to it and I would/could sub in DILF but I was trying to be good.
Anywho! Enjoy!!
Shanks
So drinking and unprotected sex can lead to pregnancy- who knew... Panicking yoh decide its best to just rip that bandage off.
"Shanks- I'm pregnant"
Shanks will stare at you for a while, before starting to laugh- Hard. He will bend over laughing as his panic response sets in-
"Shanks this isn't funny! I-"
He grabs your hand and pulls you close as he held you still laughing now much softer.
"You're the best things that has ever happened to me-" He will whisper in your ear and hold you close.
This man acts like he can shit gold and piss roses when he finds out your pregnant. Nothing can get him down or damper his mood.
Even though you are miserable and sick most of this pregnancy- for almost the whole length of your pregnancy you are vomiting or nauseous so Shanks has to make you eat and buys things to help you.
"Shanks I'm not hungry..." You grumble as you sit on the bed. Shanks hanging you a cup of tea and some soft bread.
"I know love- But you haven't had anything solid in 3 days. Let's get this bread a try?" He says softly, You nodding and eating what you could and sipping of the flowery tea.
He will eventually find something that you can eat without getting sick and buy as much of it as possible. He may grow tired of the smell but will never complain.
When you go into labor he is still a little too excited at the prospect of his child being brought into the world. Will comfort you the whole way through but is more interested in seeing his child.
Buggy
It was a complete accident- You blamed the trip to the hot springs two months previously.. being pregnant with Buggy's child was definitely not what you had planned for yourself or him.
"Buggy I'm pretty sure I'm um.. pregnant"
You beeak it to him after a good day and even set out his favorite sweets to try and make this as soft as possible. Buggy just stares at you, His face completely unreadable as he just stares at you.
"Buggy?..." You are now anxious as he stays silent and stone faced- However he walks over to you lightly and just wraps his arms around you. Not saying a word but you can feel how tense his body is- He's scared?...
"We will be fine.. All of us. How do you feel about it?..." He will mumbled- This being so different to how he normally is as he is feeling scared in a new way.
After the initial shock of it all he will be so over the top its not even funny. You might as well be made out of glass and carrying a paper child cause that's how he treats you. Infront of the crew while he is less likely to be as openly affectionate he is still just as protective.
Understands physical insecurities so will never insult or even bring up your appearance as your body goes through changes. Hell have mercy on the person who even accidently hints at your bigger weight since he will go ape-shit and throw the biggest tantrum of all temper tantrums before brutally killing whoever said it.
He is very Very touchy- his hand has to always be on you at all times and so his detached hand has been known to stay either on your lower back, or on your arm like some horror themed arm band.
In private he is very thoughtful especially as you get near the due date.
"Sorry pressure" You hissed in discomfort rolling to your side to receive some pressure from your back. Buggy getting up calmly and moving you to stand on your feet. Which was definently not something you wanted-
That was till Buggy stood behind you as his hand detached and went under your large belly gently listing it up which relived the pressure from your back. You sigh and lean against him as he does this. Will hold you stomach up for a solid hour ignoring the sorness in his hands for you-
Will feed you constantly any food he can find, Anything you want he has made for you. If a food makes you sick magically the plate seems to be thrown out to open sea.
Will also be an emotional wreck when his children are born- If you are angry at him or scream while in labor he will take it- if not give a few quips back. However all is forgotten once the kids arrive.
Mihawk
While you believe it was an accident- It was not by Mihawks standards. He has been planning this for months since you are the only one he sees worthy of officially carrying his children.
"Mihawk I'm pregnant" You say bracing for at least a level of irritation but instead he looked pleased. Reaching a hand out to caress your belly and stare at you fondly.
"I am happy to hear that"
Will take blame in saying he must have not been careful and that its too late now and will be happy to take full and total responsibility.
Is a textbook kind of man so will have book pages memorized on what you should be doing. How many more calories needed for the baby, stretches, the healthiest food. Aka he's fucking annoying-
You will be in the kitchen with a fork in a cake eating, feeling the wave of low blood sugar that has clouded your mind and tired of the veggies or fresh fruit that Mihawk had shoved down your throat- Mid bite the cake was pulled away by Mihawk.
"It is bad for you to have-" Will pause at your glare as you step very close to him, Grabbing his beard with iron clasp hands and yank him down to your level which make his eyes go wide.
"Mihawk... If you don't hand over that cake- I'm going to take your sword and shove it so far up your ass that the handle will be in your mouth" You all but hiss, Making Mihawk lower the cake down and hand it to you silently.
Will learn that maybe not everything has to go to textbook. Despite being a bit of a hardass for your safety he will give you massages, rub your feet help decorate to your liking. If you're sick will help you the entire time in getting better.
Rubs lotion on any tender spots or stretch marks and hums a tune you've never heard before.
Will be there with every step of the way during the labor. Supportive and comforting the whole time his child is being brought into the world, If complications will be a rock for you and will pick you if it came down to it.
#x reader#one peice x reader#one piece#one peice live action#buggy one piece#buggy the clown x reader#buggy x reader#one piece mihawk#hawkeye mihawk#mihawk x reader#one piece shanks#shanks one piece#red haired shanks#shanks x reader
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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman . . .
gentlemanly things the jjk men do ! feat. gojo, nanami, geto, choso, higuruma, yuuji, megumi
fluff, headcanons, dubious grammar
by @cinnamon-girl-writes
gojo
Im’ma be real, it was hard af to come up with something serious for this man
but I’m gonna go with: he always opens doors for you and never lets you open them yourself
whether it be your car door or a restaurant, he’s always there just a step ahead of you to make sure his princes doesn’t have to do any work <3
*coughs* he also does it to stare at your ass from behind *coughs*
nanami
opposite of gojo, i couldn’t stop thinking of gentlemanly things this man *wouldn’t* do— anyways
nanami is the man who compliments you on more than just your appearance <3
of course, he tells you how beautiful you are all the time
but the best thing about this man is when he tells you how smart you are, or how he loves that your jokes always make him laugh
he’ll compliment your dtermined attitude or your loving nature
if you’ve been working really hard lately, he takes notice and tells you that you’re doing great
overall just. 10/10
geto
soooo geto has a history (in canon) of feeling unneeded/underappreciated
SO wwhat i think he’d always do for his partner is make a deliberate effort to tell them that
every day he finds a way to tell you: you matter to me and i need you in my life <3
sometimes it’s random, like when you’re laying and the couch and he tells you
or sometimes it’s more of a show, like him taking you out to dinner just to show you he appreciates you
choso
while romantic relationships are a little new to him, he treats his relationship with you very seriously
that being said, he notices whenever you’re stressed out about something
so to help you with this, he takes on whatever tasks are burdening you: your kids are driving you crazy? he’s great with kids. the dishes on your counter have been sitting there for two weeks? don’t worry, he’s got it
overall probably one of the best on this list
higuruma
this man- *ovulates*
anyways . . . like nanami he’s another epitome of gentlemanliness, however higuruma doesn’t have that much free time to spend with you because of his job as a lawyer
so when he is with you, he deliberatly asks you about how your day was. he’ll listen to every word you say and ask questions, wanting to get every detail out of you (and also, maybe he just likes the sound of your voice :))
but regardless, hearing about your day is very important to him
oh, you’ve got gossip about people he doesn’t even know?? he’s SAT
he listens to every detail, stopping you to ask questions and make sure he’s following the story
the KING of giving advice
yuuji
yuuji doesn’t necessasrily stick to formalities, but one thing he always pays attention to is the SIDEWALK RULE <3
like you swear this guy has a sixth sense or something because you literally never find yourself walking on the outside of the sidewalk
if you ever ask him about it, he just says he doesn’t do it on purpose but just always puts your safety first
megumi
poor megs didn’t really have a great example of being a gentleman growing up :( so this stuff is kind of hard for him
i would say in general he just has a pretty hard time with giving/recieving affection
but that being said, megumi puts a lot of thought into everything in your relationship
dates that he plans out are always extremely well thought out according to your interests and likes
his gifts are usually hand made, but if he does pick something out it’s very personal, usually something that you’ve been mentioning a lot lately
a/n: no i did not inclde toji because as much as i love his broke ass, for the life of me i could not think of one single gentlemanly thing about him
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#higuruma hiromi#higuruma x reader#jjk higuruma#jujutsu kaisen higuruma#gojo#satoru gojo#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru fluff#gojo fluff#geto x reader#Geto Suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru x you#suguru x reader#geto x you#choso x reader#choso x you#choso kamo x reader#choso fluff#nanami x reader#nanami kento fluff#kento nanami x reader#nanami x you
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Blood Drive
Summary: While donating at a local blood drive, Y/n stumbles up the best nurse in town, Wanda Maximoff. Unable to get Wanda out of her mind, Y/n goes through a lengthy process just to ask her out.
Warnings: Fluff, Blood Donations, Passing Out, Needles, Happy Ending
A/n: Not gonna lie, I think it's somewhat getting easier to write kissing scenes but I still have to look at a tumblr post just to figure out the wording for it. Let me know what you think :)
Word Count: 4.0k
Masterlist
In an era of new politics, the Mayor of New York City declared that registered heroes of the city had to do mandated community service. This was a new mission to help build relationships between the regular folk of New York City and the heroes that harbor it. Because let’s be honest, having Hulk throw your new car at the enemy was not the best introduction for regular people.
Those who harbored powers relaying force or strength helped out in the trade industry. You’d often see super soldiers helping out in the demolition zone by crushing what was needed. Those with magic tried their best to help heal the homeless or aided at soup kitchens. Anywhere you can unconventionally help, the heroes did.
For Y/n, it was a lot of physically demanding tasks. Such as helping families move from apartment to apartment. Or helping police officers move accidents out of the way. Sometimes, she would even demonstrate how to safely carry a person through a burning building for the local firefighters.
Today, however, Y/n decided to do something different. Rather than focusing on the same physical tasks, she chose a simpler mundane task. “Hi there, are you here for the blood drive?” Y/n nodded in agreement to the receptionist upfront. “Just sign in for me right here. Have you filled out the online rapid pass?”
“Yes, I have the QR code screenshotted.” The receptionist smiled warmly. “Perfect. Someone will be with you soon. Please have a seat in our waiting area.”
Y/n walked towards the waiting room area. This was the fourth thing on her list of community service opportunities to try. She wasn’t quite sure if her blood was even allowed to be donated, having the super soldier serum in her surely could cause a reaction to a regular human.
After some tests back at the compound, the staff found everything to be okay. That’s how Y/n ended up in a place like this.
“Y/n Y/l/n.” Getting up from her seat, Y/n followed a nurse in red scrubs to a different area. “How are you today?”
“I’m good. I'm a little nervous. I’ve never done this before.” The nurse led them to a private part of a huge common room. Multiple stations were built throughout with various people donating blood. “It’s okay to be nervous, but the worst feeling you’ll get today is just a small prick.”
Y/n breathed out slightly in relief. “Let me first get your basic information.” The nurse had gone over Y/n’s personal information but was immediately flagged by the date of birth. “It says you were born on April 2, 1917. It must’ve been a typo.”
The nurse almost changed it to 1971. “Actually ma’am, that is the correct birth date.”
“So you mean to tell me you were born during World War I?” The nurse was unwilling to believe the joke that was being played. Y/n could immediately tell from the look she gave. “It was the Great War at the time, but yes ma’am I was born in 1917. I’m actually a super soldier.”
The nurse went back to her computer and typed in more information to store on Y/n’s file. “Ah - I see. I’m sorry about that. There’s already a note on your file. It looks like your director has already approved your donation today.”
Y/n sighed in relief, while she didn’t mind explaining to people her situation of being frozen for so long, it was strenuous trying to get them to understand it all. The rest of the consultation went along smoothly as she gathered the remaining information such as Y/n’s hemoglobin and her rapid pass.
“Alright dear, let’s get you to a bed.” The nurse led them back to the common area where all the beds were laid out. “Just sit right here for me, right now we currently have a special volunteer today that’s helping out with the drive. She’ll come over in a couple of seconds to help you out. But if you have any questions, please feel free to let us know.”
Y/n sat up on the reclined bed and looked at her phone. She scrolled through her messages to make sure nothing important was happening. The sound of someone clearing their throat gained her attention. “Y/n?” As Y/n looked up, she could physically feel the moment that time stopped again. Was it possible that she fell back into the ice again? Surely she would feel the same numbness as before. But it was all different. Because from just one look from this girl would be enough to melt all the ice away.
Y/n’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with her. “I- yes, that’s me.” Y/n cleared her throat, embarrassed at the lack of composure she had.
“Nice to meet you today. My name is Wanda Maximoff and I’ll be helping you with your blood donation today.” All Y/n could do was nod as she further realized that the woman in front of her was the Scarlet Witch.
Wanda looked through her notes on the clipboard. “It looks like it’s your first time donating, is that true?” Y/n’s eyes remained locked on Wanda. It was embarrassing how much she couldn’t look away. “Uh yes. It is.”
“Do you have a preference on which arm you would like to use today?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “No preference at all.”
Wanda wrote down more information when a note caught her eye. “S.H.I.E.L.D. approval - are you a member?” Wanda looked over at the young girl in front of her trying to see if she could remember the pretty face.
“I’m one of their new recruits. Only been active for three months.” And suddenly, Y/n seemed to never mind all the questions that Wanda could possibly ask. If it meant talking to her, Y/n would oblige.
“That’s great to hear. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any powers that we should be aware of?”
“Well, I think you’re aware of my counterpart, Bucky Barnes. We both have a super soldier serum.” Wanda smiled at the mention of her old teammate/acquaintance.
“Interesting. How come I haven’t heard about you before?” Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she had managed to miss this girl for three months.
Y/n scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “You know how Steve was found in ice right?” Wanda nodded. “That’s basically the same situation I was in but rather than crashing into the arctic, I was in a freezer chamber. I’ve been awake for only ten months.” The shock on Wanda’s face was apparent.
“Sorry to keep asking,” Y/n never minded, “how has it been like adjusting back to the new life?” Y/n shrugged indifferently.
“A little rough. I do miss my friends back from my time, but Bucky has been trying his best to help me. However, he has been focused on helping the new Captain America, Sam?”
Wanda nodded, confirming that Y/n’s information was correct. “I do enjoy the fact that I’m no longer Hydra’s soldier though. More than anything, I’m just glad to have a second chance in life. Not a lot of people get that so I’m pretty thankful.”
Wanda digested Y/n’s words and was pretty enlightened at Y/n’s outlook on life. “Thank you for answering all my questions.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Now, let's get you set up to donate.” Wanda proceeded to bring out a couple of items from the nearby stand. On the table beside Y/n, Wanda placed various tubes and empty bags. Although it was nothing, the sight made Y/n feel slightly uncomfortable. It reminded her too much of Hydra’s labs but minus the dark atmosphere and torture that came with it.
As if sensing her discomfort, Wanda grabbed a disinfectant and started to disinfect Y/n’s left arm around the area inside her elbow. “Ya know, for being so nice and cooperative. How about you ask me a couple of questions? It makes the day go by faster.”
Bringing herself out of her internal thoughts, Y/n asked the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the Scarlet Witch, right?”
It was Wanda’s turn to blush. She hadn’t expected Y/n to recognize her so quickly, especially since she just got back to the real world. “I am.”
“I wasn’t aware that you could help with the American Red Cross as part of your community service.” Wanda grabbed a marker and a squeezable toy. She placed the toy in Y/n’s left hand stating, “Give me three big squeezes and hold on the last squeeze.”
While pressing around Y/n’s elbow, she continued with, “I had to do some training to get qualified. A lot of the people who use magic generally help in other areas.” Wanda marked a dot followed by a line. “You can stop squeezing now.”
“I’m gonna disinfect one more time and then I’ll have to poke you. Are you scared of needles?” Feeling more embarrassed, Y/n looked away as she said, “Yes.”
“All good. Just means I’ll have to give you a small distraction.” Wanting to distract herself even more, Y/n asked, “Why did you decide to do this rather than something in your wheelhouse?”
Wanda thought about it before replying with, “I like the normalcy of it. On the plus side, it feels more rewarding. Like I’m actually earning my community time rather than going the easy way of using my powers.” As Wanda finished disinfecting, she blew on Y/n’s elbow hoping it would dry fast.
“When I give you the go-ahead, I’ll have to ask you to give me three more squeezes and hold on to the last one, okay?” Y/n nodded and waited for the signal.
“And - go.” Y/n did as told, but as she did her last squeeze and held, red wispy magic flowed in front of her morphing into swirls in the air. “Woah.” She followed the magic with her eyes, not even noticing that Wanda had already poked her and started the transfusion.
“Should be about 10 minutes. Every couple of seconds give the toy a small squeeze to keep it going.” Y/n glanced away from the magic amazed with Wanda. “That didn’t even hurt.” For the first time in Y/n’s life, she didn’t scream when the needles came.
Wanda couldn’t help but keep the magic up for a little longer. The dopey look on Y/n’s face was something she didn’t want to go away.
“I told you I would distract you.” Y/n was at a loss of words. Her brain jumbled for anything but all she could focus on was that Wanda Maximoff successfully distracted her. She had a natural caring heart, something the media failed to show.
“Your magic is beautiful by the way.” Y/n savored the last few seconds of it before it completely disappeared.
Wanda’s magic has been called many things in life, powerful, destructive, and manipulative but none have ever said beautiful…till now. “Thank you Y/n.”
There was a small silence as Wanda stayed to make sure Y/n was okay. “I’ll be assisting other volunteers, but if you start to feel like you're fainting, just call me over, okay?”
“I will.” Would it have been wrong to immediately fake an injury just to get Wanda back? Possibly but Y/n weighed the consequences and none could compare to her. So as Wanda left, Y/n used her free hand to call Bucky. After a couple of rings, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Y/n.”
Getting straight to the point, “Is Wanda Maximoff single?”
“Uhh - I think so. She and this synthezoid, Vision, used to date but I believe they broke up a year ago. Why do you ask?” Y/n looked at Wanda who was across the room. Her radiant smile could be spotted from miles away. “Just wanting to gather intel. Thanks Bucky.”
Y/n hung up the phone, not caring about what Bucky had to say back. Her eyes lingered back to Wanda. No matter how much she distracted herself with her phone, her eyes always glanced back on Wanda Maximoff. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and all she wore was matching red scrubs. But everything about her looked and felt beautiful.
Little did Y/n know, Wanda was admiring her too.
The blood donation was soon over, quicker than Y/n anticipated. Wanda had already come over, stopped the machine, and disconnected the line from Y/n’s arm. She taped a cotton ball on top of the area she poked and proceeded to wrap a red bandage around Y/n’s elbow. “You keep this red bandage on for two hours and the cotton ball for four hours.”
Wanda grabbed a pamphlet that had Y/n’s personal information and gave it to her. “Don’t miss a single meal for the next eight weeks. Make sure to drink plenty of water as well. If you feel dizzy in the next couple of hours, be sure to call this number, okay?”
Y/n nodded. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment, trying to find ways to ask Wanda Maximoff out. “Do you have any questions for me though?”
Y/n opened her mouth, wanting to ask her, “Are you busy after this?” But nothing came out. And the more she tried to say words, the more silence that remained.
“Wanda!” The pair turned to the employee that shouted her name. “I have someone that needs your help after you're done with your current volunteer.”
“Understood.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. “We have snacks and shirts over there but I think you should be good now. Thank you for donating today.”
As Wanda walked off, Y/n couldn’t help but beat herself up for not asking. She took a couple snacks and juice boxes before walking out of the donation center.
Was Y/n in love? Not quite yet. Infatuated? Probably. It was the best explanation as to why she was back at the blood drive the very next day. The brown eyed girl paced around all night trying to think of ways to see Wanda again. And the very first realistic idea she thought of was to donate blood again.
The super soldier practically begged the compound to give her another approval to donate blood stating that her super serum allowed for faster recovery. When no one could argue with her logic, they allowed a special approval to donate so soon.
So when Y/n followed all the same directions, all the same questions, she was met with disappointment when she didn’t see the redhead that captured her mind. “Hi, my name is Lucy and I’ll be helping you today.”
As Lucy proceeded to set up, Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “Is Wanda Maximoff here today?”
The blonde shook her head with a small smile. “I’m sorry dear. She’s not going to be here today.” Y/n couldn’t hold back the frown that escaped. It was stupid to think that Wanda would come back the very next day, but she had hope.
And as much as Y/n wanted to ask when she’ll be back, she knew the blood center wouldn’t give out information like that. Regardless, Y/n was determined. She was going to see Wanda again.
It was a new month and a new day. Although Y/n was glad to help a good cause, her hope waned as each day passed with no Wanda. By now, everyone in the blood center knew Y/n by name. On the bright side, the other volunteers were not bad to talk to but none compared to her.
So as Y/n sat down once again, she scrolled on her phone, expecting much disappointment. Until the voice that captured her heart called her name. “Y/n?”
She looked up from her phone and saw that familiar smile that was ingrained in her head. “Wanda.” Y/n couldn’t hold her smile back as she finally saw the girl that she’s been begging to see.
“Looks like you’re here for you…18th donation? Look at you being a star citizen.” Y/n blushed knowing that those donations were mainly for something else. “I think by now you should know the drill. Are there any concerns you may have?”
Wanda looked back at Y/n, ready to disinfect her arm. “I-” Y/n’s brain short circuited at the feeling of Wanda’s hands on her arm. It was like everything that she wanted to say suddenly left her brain. But the feeling was just on the tip of her tongue.
“You know, they should give you a badge or something for donating so much. I didn’t even know that was possible. Didn’t you start donating like last month?” Again, not a single thought formulated in Y/n’s head when all she could focus on was how soft Wanda’s hands were. Because if Y/n was able to focus, she would be able to say that her donation was 17 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes ago. But who was counting?
Wanda looked back at Y/n’s chart to confirm her suspicions. “Are you still scared of needles though?” And that’s when Y/n finally got back into the real world. For all the times she’s been back, she’s had to look away from the needle while using a nearby pillow to control her nerves.
“I think I might need your magic again.” Y/n blushed at the request but felt proud at the smug look that came from Wanda. “I might have to start charging you for the show.”
With sudden blind confidence, Y/n asked, “Let me take you out on a date in return.” Wanda almost missed the vein at Y/n’s sudden question. She had an inkling that the girl liked her but never expected her to actually pursue her thoughts.
“You didn’t even need it.” Y/n looked down and saw that Wanda had poked her without realizing it.
“Does that mean you won’t go?” Wanda looked at the time on the clock and smiled at Y/n.
“It actually means you have three hours till my shift is up.” Wanda patted Y/n’s arm, reminding her to squeeze the ball in her hand. “So pick me up then. How should I dress?”
“Something casual. I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to do after you said yes.” Wanda blushed at the idea of Y/n practicing this moment.
“How about this? You and I walk around New York. I don’t think the guys have given you much of a good tour. So I’ll tell you all about the new New York and you tell me about the old New York.”
“You have a deal.”
Wanda and Y/n were in the back seat of an uber. The small date was something Y/n never wanted to end but the lack of energy made it hard to keep up. So when Y/n asked if it could be an early night, she was relieved that Wanda wasn’t mad at her.
Right now, the uber was at a stoplight and the two hardly spoke as their shoulders touched.
“Can I hold your hand?” Y/n whispered as she lightly placed her hand above Wanda’s. The small smile was hard to miss on Wanda’s face. She could feel Y/n’s internal battle to ask her that. She leaned into Y/n’s ear and whispered, “You don’t even have to ask,” and pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s cheek as they interlaced hands.
A small blushed and a wide grin appeared on Y/n’s face. “I hope you had fun today.” Looking away, Y/n yawned into her hand.. “You tired dekta?”
Looking back at her, Y/n tilted her head in confusion. “Dekta? What does that mean?” Wanda blushed more. She hadn’t meant to call Y/n that, but it left her lips so easily. Like it was second nature.
“I’ll tell you later,” Wanda placed her left hand on Y/n’s bicep and gave it a small squeeze, “Aren’t you supposed to be a super soldier? It's barely past 10 pm and you’re already tired.” Y/n scratched the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed at how tired she was. But all Wanda could focus on was the feeling of Y/n’s muscles as she gave one more squeeze.
Y/n yawned again, unable to fight the sleep that took over her body. “It’s what happens when you donate blood every day to try and see a pretty girl.” They hadn’t even kissed but Wanda could’ve sworn she was in love. The dopey smile on Y/n’s face would make any girl’s heart melt. The red head mentally thanked that it was her that Y/n was looking at and nobody else.
“You did that for me?” Y/n could think of many things she would do for Wanda, rescue a billion people, punch a hole in the moon, even kidnap someone. Regardless of how unrealistic it was, Wanda Maximoff was worth changing the tides on Earth. So how could someone so wonderful could ever question that someone would do something for her attention?
“I wanted to see you again.” Y/n bit her inner cheek, trying her best to stay calm but all she could think about was how soft Wanda’s lips looked.
The red head hadn’t meant to hear that thought, but she was glad she did. She bit her lip wishing that Y/n would just kiss her already. But something about the way they stared into each other's eyes was already enough for her to feel alive. And for someone so sober, her body grew drunk at the touch of Y/n.
“So you donated blood to see me?” It was still all unbelievable to Wanda but Y/n would tell her a million times until she believed it.
Their eyes interlocked causing Wanda’s breathing to hitch. She swore she could look into those brown eyes forever. “18 pints and counting.” Y/n couldn’t hold back her grin as Wanda looked away, unable to hold back her wide smile.
Y/n gave a gentle squeeze in their interlaced hands as Wanda turned back to face Y/n. “You’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep donating.” Wanting to focus on something else, Y/n caressed Wanda’s cheek as she tucked a loose strand back.
Not wanting her touch to go away, Wanda placed her hand above Y/n’s. So many thoughts ran through both of their heads. Wanda could feel the weight inside Y/n’s mind but didn’t dare to peak.
“Tell me what you’re thinking…”
“...I think you’re really pretty,” Y/n admitted in secret.
“What else?” Y/n rubbed her thumb gently across Wanda’s cheek.
“I think I want to take you out on a second date.”
“Oh yeah?”
“And I…I think I want to kiss you.” Wanda swallowed all the nerves in her chest.
“...I’d really like that…” And as brown eyes looked at greens eyes one more time, Y/n slowly leaned in and kissed Wanda. There was no rush with each kiss, something Wanda never experienced before. All she could remember was the sloppy kisses and fast make outs. But something about kissing Y/n slowly drove heart mad because how dare she live this long without being kissed like this.
And as they kissed, their hands never broke apart, instead, they gave gentle squeezes with every kiss. And when slowly pulled apart, Wanda knew then she was love sick.
Bonus
“Let me get this straight,” Bucky rubbed his forehead, feeling the headache coming forth, “Y/n passed out from kissing you?”
“Well, the kissing didn’t help but she also donated 18 pints of blood in the last three weeks.” Wanda looked at Y/n’s sleeping figure. Her head rested comfortably on Wanda’s lap.
Bucky sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you at her place.”
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#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff#fluff#Blood Drive#mionemymind#wanda maximoff fluff
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I often think when people hear "infantilizing a group of people", they think of it literarily that we are actively being made a infant. While this is a part of it, I think people miss the subtle things that end up causing chasms in their relationships with that group of people.
It's actually hard to pinpoint because it's never a singular event, it's many tiny things but the end result is always "I am the authority, I will always know more then you, I will never take your advice, I will never be honest with you (you know to spare *your* feelings), any disagreement is your fault, any problem in your life is my cross to bear and you must follow how I tell you to fix it, I will never stoop myself to understanding what your needs are as X group and will view everything from my own lens and judge you accordingly, we are not equals, and we never will be. (This is not a exhausted list, nor will everyone have all the same traits)
It is very hard to connect with someone who just automatically assumes a higher status to you just because of something you can't change. All the while the offender thinks what they are doing is actually a good thing. They are somehow helping you by just assuming they are better then you (which in the end, that's kinda what this is).
I have a few people in my life that I care for a lot, but they are not that much older then me yet they act like I can't possibly understand them and automatically shove this "child" label on my forhead.
And here is the thing, they will voluntarily bring up why they think this if you pay attention. It might be trauma they've dealt with, it might be that they have kids and you don't, age, or anything else like this. However I think it's important to note that I have friends who do not talk down to me and respect me as my own person with autonomy and also have these things going on in their life. So it's not like it's impossible to treat someone with respect and have these differences.
Now what do some of these subtle differences look like? There are many ways they can materialize but to name a few.
- Demanding the person solves a problem their way despite the person telling them why their circumstances do not allow that.
- assuming...well anything and all the time. These people have a tendency to think they know exactly what you are feeling and other such things and if you try to correct them then they will actually get upset at you or show some type of passive aggressiveness.
-Speaking on your behalf without asking permission
-never valuing your expertise on any subject. They are older/more mature then you, therefore to them they know more about everything. What's really fun (/s) about this is when they will explain to you, why you are wrong, by repeating what you said back at you.
- any reason why you can't do a thing, or why you need an aide is an excuse. You could do it if you *really* wanted to, but you are just being lazy. Now the real adult has to take up your burden.
- they do not/cannot listen to you. No matter what you say or how you say it, or if they even confirm what you say, there is always a part of them that is not listening. Or hell, they could of listened to you, but since what you say isn't important to them, they will quickly forget it and may even try and claim you never said anything to them.
- I'm not sure if this counts as infantilizing, but I notice that it happens a lot in tandem. While they think less of you and treat you like a child whose facts and opinions don't matter, all of this will change at a moment's notice when they need something from you...oddly enough something they probably normally do not take seriously from you on a normal day. Suddenly thrusting you with this burden of taking care of them even though they are never there for you in any meaningful actually helpful way most of the time. Like you will literally be demanded to stop what you are doing, and get over whatever you are going through to help them and their problem. I cannot explain how frustrating it is to be demanded to be the mature one while most of the time being denied respect.
I could go on, but honestly if I sat here and thought of every single tiny thing they do to make sure there is distance between you and them up on their self made pedestals, I'd be here all day.
The worst part on all of this is that I have no idea how to resolve it. People who do this are not inherently bad people, hell they might not even realize they do it. But this can actually make it more difficult to bring to their attention. I have tried many ways and many different times to resolve this, but I haven't been successful yet. Anyone who has corrected themselves were people who just had a little mess up but still obviously viewed me as a person from the start.
These subtle ways someone can dehumanize you, it can cause terrible rifts and of course the other person never understands why (see point above about not listening)
I am writing this as a autistic person, but I know there are others who go through this. Please check the ways you create artificial authority over someone.
Edit: someone reblogged this with hashtags about how we shouldn't do this to children either and I completely agree, I was using the term because it's the one often used to explain these things. Adding the edit cause I have no idea how to respond to the hashtag thing and I think it's a important thing to note.
#actually autistic#autism#disability#neurodiversity#neurodivergent#infantilism#blog#why do people gotta be weird about shit
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🐍 Track 2 - . . . Ready for It?
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
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Logan had a new phone. And for the first time in a while, it felt nice to just be disconnected from the world for a bit. The people who truly mattered had his phone number. His Instagram had been wiped, along with every other social media. The American had gone dark.
And apparently you had done the same thing.
His parents and brother knew where he would be, just in case for emergencies. However, he asked them to not text much. He needed time away, well, away from the current grid. It hurt him, seeing how supportive everyone was with Theo. No one had ever congratulated him when he first got signed. Hell, even Oscar hadn’t known right away, claiming he had forgotten.
Of course, he had given you his new number because you’d be the only person he previously knew that he’d still be in contact with. You also gave Logan you’re new number, having similar ideas to your friend.
Well, he had given George his new number. The Briton had texted his old number in a panic-like manner when Logan deactivated everything. Under a temporary contract, Logan wasn’t legally allowed to tell George anything except that he was safe and needed time away.
The brunet was not happy with that, but he let Logan know that if he needed anything, he would come running. A bit of happiness let itself seep into Logan’s heart, thankful for the Mercedes driver’s friendship.
When he had read the email after the social media posts went up, his mind blanked.
What did Andretti want with him? A washed-out jobless nobody. He believes they should have been looking at someone like Carlos or even Ollie, who was making good times in F2 car. It had to be anyone but him.
So why was it him?
He had been about to call you when you had first facetimed him on his laptop. He couldn’t even get words about before you started screeching. Logan chuckled as you went on a rant, as this could be their big break. His silence had given you a look into how he was truly feeling.
Your voice had quieted down on the device.
“You’re going to take the offer right?”
Logan winced at your tone, which gave you the information you needed. You rolled your eyes as you sat on your bed.
“Logan, we were just dropped by two teams that didn’t even want us. They pushed us away like we were nothing. And now, there’s a team with top potential that truly wants us, and you don’t want to take the opportunity?”
The American boy sighed. You had a point.
“I’m just scared that I’m going to get there, and then make a fool out of myself. Then Michael is going to see how truly bad of a driver I am,” he hugged out.
You could hear the fear in his voice, and it devastated you. Where did your confident and smiley boy go? Williams would pay for it, one way or another.
You were hesitant to say something.
“Logan, even if our times aren’t what we’re wanting at first, Michael said that we will get better. He’s sent my manager some data and it looks like we are scarily similar with our driving styles. Logan, the car is going to be made for us. Michael made sure that I knew that we’d have a chance, because I’m not driving if you’re not. Together or nothing, we come as a package.”
Logan sat up quickly off his bed. He glared at you through his laptop.
“You did not just quote Charles Leclerc to me.”
“And what if I did?”
“No, you can’t give this offer up if I don’t drive.”
You glared back at him, although you had a smile.
“It’s either both of us, or none of us. I’m tired of never seeing you, and you need a friend you can count on. I’m sorry to say but Oscar has done a very shit job of being your friend. I’d say that George is a better friend than him.”
Logan sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s just hard to accept that.”
Your smile dropped a bit.
“Logan, he was supposed to be your friend and then he dropped you. Everyone had dropped you so many times and you’ve been the one to pick yourself back up. But now, you’ve been dropped a final time, yet someone wants to be the first to help you back up, to clean your wounds, and to heal you. And now you don’t even want that?”
You had a point.
Like always.
“Your words never seem to fail me woman.”
“That’s because men are the inferior being.”
Logan snorted.
“Will I see you in Milan next week?” you asked with hopeful eyes. Logan could see the glimmer that shined in them. He didn’t want to be the person to damped that.
“I will see you in Milan.”
The first thing that popped into Logan’s mind when he got to the base was “Holy Shit.”
The building was massive as he walked through the giant doors. He really thought that this was a movie set with how grand it was. Surely this couldn’t it? Maybe he had the wrong address.
“Mr. Sargeant?”
Or maybe he did. His body turned to the lady standing near the front desk. He showed a smile that was definitely a tad too wide and showed too many teeth. Thankfully the lady didn’t show any malice as she sweetly grinned at the blond.
“Yes ma’am. That’s me.”
Always the good southern-hospitality manners with him.
“I’m glad you could make it. If you’d follow me, Michael is waiting in his office for you.”
Logan breathed a sigh of relief when he finally knew that he didn’t have to circumnavigate the entirety of the building.
The air was fresh as he walked behind the lady, who he now knew as Marissa Andretti, Michael’s sister and Head of Directors. Her own American accent was like a comforting blanket to Logan. Gosh, did he miss hearing a familiar voice to his own during 2023.
The one voice he couldn’t wait to hear was your own. He knew he’d be safe once he heard the lisps of a Southern draw when you talked. The slurred vowels and the biting consonants would be music to his ears.
“How have you liked the simulator and the data so far?” Marissa asked as she led Logan down yet another hallway. How big was this building and were they leading him to his death?
Yet, despite his concerns, Logan was very happy with the results.
“The car is already so fast. It’s like it’s just an extension of me instead of working against me. It feels so right.”
Technically, Logan had been on the first plane to Milan to start testing, as his own anxiety wouldn’t let him wait until the week was up. You had your own simulator back in the States, so you did your testing there. Logan had been back in London when the email came, and his set up was not going to function with the high tech that Andretti needed.
Marissa smiled over her shoulder. “Good, that is exactly what we are wanting to hear.”
Finally, she stopped in front of a door that had a giant-ass A on the front. Logan wanted to laugh at the cinematics. Surely, this was a movie and he was going to be the main character. Marissa pushed a button and the door slowly swung open.
Logan’s smile grew once he saw you in one of the very plush seats in front of the desk. You immediately stood up and jumped into his arms. He breathed deeply and all weight slowly melted from his body. It had been so long since he had gotten to hug you, hold you, feel you.
When you pulled away, you had a blinding smile on your face.
“Glad to see you here Logs.”
His nose scrunched at the old nickname.
“I don’t think you’ve called me that since we were 12, Y/n.”
You huffed.
“Fine, no nickname for you.”
“I take it back. I ban you from calling me Logan.”
“Isn’t that your name?”
“No?”
“Logs!”
“Ah there it is!”
A cough signaled to Logan that they weren’t actually alone. He sheepishly turned around to face the man who, hopefully after this meeting, would be his boss for a couple of years. Logan turned his full body towards the desk and stepped with his hand outstretched.
Michael had a knowing smile as he shook Logan’s hand.
“I am so sorry sir, I didn’t even realize that you were already here, and I haven’t seen her in a while, and it’s so good to just here the accents because the grid is entirely too European and Asian, sometimes I couldn’t even understand them, and…”
Michael put his hands on Logan’s shoulders.
“It’s just fine kid. I totally get you.”
Logan visibly relaxed under Michael’s hands.
“Now, why don’t you sit down and we can start talking contracts.”
Logan lit up at the word.
“Contracts?”
You gave him a smirk.
“Yes Logs, contracts.”
Logan felt as though he couldn’t breathe. But this time, it was with excitement and not dread. His butt quickly found the seat next to yours. Marissa left the room with promises of coming back with celebratory drinks.
Michael pulled out two small stacks of paper before he started speaking.
“So, I’ve talked with both of your managers and we’ve come up with a contract. You two can look over it as I read the big details. The finer print is stuff that you both have already previously gone over, but you are still encouraged to look over it one final time.”
You and Logan had the same exact papers.
In the initial emailing process, the two of you had voiced that you were a packaged deal. Logan was surprised to see that Michael had said that he wouldn’t want it any other way and was glad to possibly not have to deal with drivers hating each other. Logan thought anything would be better than Brocedes 2016.
You looked down at the words as Michael read them out loud.
“Ok, so in the contract, the two of you will be signed until 2027. There is an exit clause in section C, but we are not allowed to terminate prior to 2027. The two of you will be granted ambassadorship with whatever sponsors we’ve received. The sponsorships are in section E and it gives a rundown of each one and what they will be contributing to the team.
“Per secrecy of wanting to keep the identities secret until we reach the grid for testing, the two of you will go under pseudonyms.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Like a call sign?”
Marissa flashed a wicked grin.
“Exactly like a call sign.”
You continued, “Do we get to come up with them?”
Michael clasped his hands. “So we thought that Y/n could go by Phoenix and then Logan would go Venus.”
Your eyes widened as you took in the name. Wasn’t too bad, you thought.
Logan let out a sigh of relief. “At least it’s not like Eagle or something. That would be super obvious.”
The boss-man chuckled before he looked back down at the contract.
“Since the two of you did not specify a salary, we took the liberty to come up with one ourselves. But please feel free to mention what you’d like and we can always raise it. We also liked to put in that for every point scored, the two of you get a bonus as a little incentive. The salary will not be dropped no matter if points are scored or not. Think of it as a baseline.”
Michael chuckled as he watched yours and Logan’s eyes drastically widen at the sight of the eight digits before the decimal. Logan gulped at the sight.
“Michael, I think you added too many zeros.”
“I think I didn’t add enough.”
Logan couldn’t respond.
You looked up from the paper to Michael. “I think it’s high enough.”
The goateed-man smiled back at you and continued.
“I’ve seen the skills parts on your resumes and thankfully the two of you do not need to learn Italian from scratch. I don’t even know when the two of you had time to learn it, but thankfully it is not required in meetings or in the garage.”
Logan smirked as he looked at the words.
“What’s the fun in that? We can have secret conversations with ourselves.”
You tapped his shoulder.
“Except Ferrari will know and maybe Lewis.”
“I’ll have my Duolingo account at the ready.”
Michael watched as the two of you pored over the papers and bickered like an old married couple. He and Marissa already had a bet going to see when the two of you would get together. But, you didn’t need to know that.
“I digress. You can speak in Italian if you want to. The next couple of sections are just PR related. The two of you wanted to bring you own teams in, which is fine. I’ve sent emails and meeting times to each of them and have been replied to. All is in motion. Logan, you mentioned something to me once about your personal trainer leaving?”
A sigh left his lips at the mention of Benny. He really didn’t want anyone else. He slowly nodded.
“He had to leave to be with his family. Williams wasn’t the most accommodating and he was told that he had to be at every race. Normally I didn’t even need him until race day. He’d miss so much time with his family because of traveling and things like that.”
“Well, I think we have you covered.”
Logan looked back down at the paper. A small gasp left his lips.
Ben Jacobs was written in black ink under “Personal Trainer.”
“How?”
Michael smiled.
“It took some convincing, but he said he’d come back for you. Of course, Ben will be highly compensated to return after he said he wouldn’t. His family will also be accommodated for any race that they’d like to attend and Ben can show up however late he needs. His leave will also be paid time as well.”
Logan could kiss the man if he could. Tears pooled in his eyes and he could only manage a small thank you. Your hand rested on his shoulder in comfort. He just couldn’t wait to see him again.
“Looks like that is everything. Are you two ready to sign?”
Yours and Logan’s heads nodded eagerly as pens were uncapped. There was light scratching for a few moments as you filled out the needed information on the multiple sheets of paper. Once everything was completed, you let out a sigh of relief. You and Logan could finally do this.
Marissa showed up at the right moments with a few different beverages. You took one of the iced americanos, claiming that Italian espresso was, in fact, the best kind. Logan surprised you as he took a mimosa.
He side-eyed you.
“It’s freshly squeezed orange juice and you cannot go wrong with it. It’s a classic.”
You held you drink up and your other hand in mock surrender.
Michael took a black coffee and sipped it.
“Now, onto the fun stuff.”
Your eyebrows pinched. “Fun stuff?”
Michael smirked before pulling up a projector that was attached to his laptop. He started to click through the slides.
“First, the car.”
On the slide was a sleek yellow and black livery. The black really highlighted the tamer yellow.
Michael pointed at it.
“This is our 2024 livery. We designed it awhile back, but it’s finally going to be used.”
You let out a whistle as a video played the engine noise. To you, it sounded fast. You had been able to do a few laps with an actual car to get the feel of it since IndyCar were so much different. Michael claimed though that you were a natural in the car, being able to command it to what you needed it to do. Logan was quite the same.
The next slide showed multiple models of Lamborghinis. With it came a smirk from the sister and brother pair.
Logan looked at them.
“I don’t know whether to be excited about the smirks or nervous.”
Marissa was the one to pull up something on her personal iPad. She showed the official Lamborghini website.
“Because the two of you will now technically ambassadors for Lambo as well, you two need to pick out what models the two of you would like to own. For now, we can start with one, but Tonino wanted his drivers to start a small collection.”
You made her pause.
“Tonino, as in, Tonino Lamborghini?”
Marissa sent a gentle smile to calm you down.
“Yes. Mr. Tonino will be at quite a few races to watch. He has mentioned wanting to see Ferrari fail, but our data is saying that although we look promising, there’s not guarantee.”
Logan exhaled sharply.
“No pressure right?”
Michael leaned forward over the desk.
“Listen to me Logan. You have been with a team that has now destroyed every bit of self-confidence. Mr. Tonino is actually the one who put your name on my radar. If you’re good enough for him, you need to believe that you’re good enough for everyone else.”
Logan was taken back. Mr. Tonino was the one to bring him up? He felt honored in a good way. A nod of his head let Michael and Marissa know that they could continue. Logan turned your way, only to find you already smiling at him. He hoped that he could always be on the receiving end of that smile.
Marissa continued where she left off.
“Just look over the models and customize it however you’d like. We’ll get it sent to the factory to be made in time for the first race in Bahrain. These cars will be shipped along with our supplies so you can always have them.”
You smirked. “I’ve always wanted a black Lamborghini Aventador.”
Logan turned to Marissa. “I’d love a black Lamborghini Huracan.”
A smile grew on your face. “Aw, Logan. We’ll get matching Lambos.”
Logan thought that if you had been an emoji, you’d be the one with the big teary eyes and a pout. Marissa looked pleased at the requests for the different models.
You raised your hand. “Do we need to start looking for places to stay here in Milan?”
Michael lifted his eyebrows.
“You don’t actually. Between races, the two of you are more than welcome to either go home or adventure somewhere. We will let you know when it is crucial to come back here to do some testing. Housing is provided when you need to be here. There are multiple estates that can be used on bought property.”
You and Logan definitely liked the sound of that. Maybe you could stay in close villas or something. Or maybe in the same place as you tended to get lonely. That’s what being pushed out of everything does to someone in a year. You can’t remember the last time that you were invited to do something with the team, always retreating to your small hotel room after a race. You feel as though Logan might feel the same.
Michael moved to the next slide, showing the race suits.
“These are the suits for the season. Black or white fireproofs will go well with them. Helmets are up to the two of you. You will need on standard for some races and then you can choose what races you want fun ones to be. Miami, Austin, Las Vegas, and Imola are going to be considered our home races.”
“What about Monza?” Logan questioned.
Michael had a glint in his eyes.
“That will forever belong to the Tifosi I’m afraid.”
You decided to pipe up.
“Or Charles Leclerc. I feel like wherever he goes, the Tifosi goes with him. You make him trade teams, the Italians will follow him.”
Logan shot you a teasing look.
“You always have to bring him up in one way or another.”
You shrugged.
“He’s a good driver. Let’s not bring up that you’re such a fanboy for Max Verstappen of all people.”
Logan’s torso shifted.
“It’s not every day that one beats Sir Lewis Hamilton and take away his 8th championship!”
Laughs erupted from Michael and Marissa, making you and Logan pause. You cleared your throat.
“Sorry, please continue.”
Michael went a bit further with the slides, going over compatible data to the car. He went over sponsors and things like that before he finally leaned back into his chair.
“Are we able to drive the cars today?”
Much like you were, Logan was itching to be back behind the wheel. And hopefully, the wheel belonged to a reliable car.
Michael stood from where he sat, making you and Logan also rise to your feet.
“I’d thought you’d never ask,” he said, making his way to the door. When the two of you didn’t follow, he turned back around.
“Are you ready for it?”
lamborghini_racing has posted
Lamborghini_racing Are you ready for it?
liked by y/n.nation, logang2, box_box_express, and 4,205,095 others
l4mbo.child a hello or how are you doing WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE
f1_fan I fear they have gagged the entire grid with this
ferrariforza damn, I thought we had the best livery - sorry kings 👑
lambo_drivers all I'm asking is who is going to be driving this beast?
lo-girlies do I even utter his name in fear that it might not happen?
y/nfan or even utter her name?
thepaddock_person who 🤨
childofF1 I'll say it - LOGAN AND Y/N FOR LAMBO 2024
box_box_express the paint, the yellow, the black, the lighting, THE EVERYTHING
taylorswiftxf1 I see the admin is a Taylor fan??
phoenix95 has posted
phoenix95 baby let the games begin
liked by venus2, Lamborghini_racing, y/n.nation, dior, and 2,195,086 others
4theF1_girlies EXCUSE MEEEEEEE
driver95 ayo - we got the Lightning McQueen number with a queen
lambo_duo oh gosh I hope I live to see the day that they reveal their drivers
venus2 looking snazzy 😎
phoenix95 no one ever says that anymore
venus2 🥺
phoenix95 fine...thank you
venus2 🥰
venusxphoenix WHOEVER THEY ARE - THEY HAVE MY HEART
rising_phoenix95 immediate fan
lambo_child the Aventador is such a slay 💅
lambof1 I wonder if they have like matching cars with their contracts
venus2 has posted
venus2 let the games begin now
liked by phoenix95, marissa_andretti, Lamborghini_racing, and 4,205,850 others
lambof1 I THINK I CALLED IT?? THE MATCHING BLACK CARS
pitstop_nightmare I'M SORRY FERRARI BUT THIS IS TOO SEXY
lamborghinivsferrari THE HURACAN 🥵😱
c16_leclerc I'm guessing they went to Charles's school of serving cunt
hamilton44lewis and graduated with a degree in slay
phoenix95 that's sexy baby
venus2 thanks 😚
phoenix95 ...I was talking about the car?
venus2 sure...sure you were 😈
box_box_express I feel like I have some sleuthing to do - hold please
logansarg2 I miss Logan so much - it's heartbreaking to see all of his accounts go dark, I guess I'll have to stan this dude instead
y/n.nation I miss our girl so much
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#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant imagine#logan sargeant fluff#logan sargeant#f1 x driver!reader#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#platonic grid x reader#formula 1 x you#Logan Sargeant x driver!reader#logan sargeant x you#logan sargeant fic#future grid dad lewis#future grid dad lestappen#grid bestie george#grid dad lewis#grid dad charles#grid dad max#reputations fic#Lamborghinidriver!reader#Logan deserves this and more#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#formula one x y/n#formula one x you
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poly!marauders x reader but reader is contemplating their relationship?
(IDK IF YOU DO ANGST SORRY 😭)
No worries!! It's definitely not my most practiced genre but I'm happy to give it a try :) Honestly unsure if this came out as angsty enough, so please do not be shy and let me know if not! Thanks for requesting
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 886 words
James, Remus, and Sirius balance each other out perfectly. James is so sweet he should come with a warning label, always showering everyone in affection and bringing joy into every room he's in; Remus emanates a quieter sort of contentedness, and he provides a calm, rational perspective when the others need it; and Sirius takes everything they have together and dials it up to eleven, the depth of his feelings so intense that being around him is almost a sort of high.
The issue is, you're not sure where you fit into all that.
The boys seem to care about you, but you can't really figure out why. You have none of James' lightness, Remus' patience, Sirius' humor. You've been trying to hold onto this thing between you, to enjoy it while it lasts, but waiting for the other shoe to drop is becoming maddening. Eventually—someday soon, likely—they're going to realize that they're better off without you.
Naturally, you're pondering this while Sirius braids your hair, James chattering about why he thinks you all need a dog (Sirius has pointed out that you already have him) and Remus reading with his back leaned against your side.
You're trying to figure out the least needy way to ask why they care about you when Remus nudges you with a movement of his shoulder.
"You've been quiet tonight, dove."
It's far from accusatory, but the other boys pick up on the implication nonetheless. Suddenly, all the attention in the room is on you. It's a bit overwhelming.
"I was just thinking..." you say tentatively, unsure of your words. "Do you think we'll all stay together?"
James looks as though you've slapped him, and though Remus doesn't turn, you feel the muscles in his shoulders tense.
"Why would you say that?" James asks. "Of course I think so."
"But..." Merlin, there's no easy way to go about this conversation. "I just, I don't really see what I'm bringing to the table here." You cringe at your own words, awaiting judgement—or worse, epiphany—from your boyfriends.
Sirius, whose hands have been motionless in your hair since you spoke up, abandons his project entirely, letting your hair drop limply from his grasp. "Wha—what does that even mean, what you bring to the table?"
Remus turns around, placing a reassuring hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Easy, love," he murmurs. "Y/N, can you tell us what you're worried about?"
You look between them as Sirius comes to sit beside Remus, feeling stupid and immature. "Sorry, it's not...a you-guys thing. It's just that, I can see how well you work together, and why you love each other, but I don't really see why you'd love me." Your voice gets quieter as you finish, shameful of your thoughts and the position you know you're putting them in.
Sirius releases a disbelieving exhale, slumping into Remus' side, and the taller boy wraps an arm around him, looking at you like you're one of his crosswords and have just given him a particularly perplexing clue.
"Sweetheart," James says, pulling your attention towards him, "it's not a matter of why we would love you, just that we do. Do you need to list off reasons for why you care about every person in your life, or doesn't it just happen?"
"I don't need to," you admit, "but I could. I love you guys because of who you are."
"And so do we," Remus says. "Dove, we care about you. Isn't that enough? Can you trust us with that?"
"It's not..." It's not a matter of trusting them. You'd trust any of them with your life, with everything. It's that you don't trust yourself. It's that you're worried you won't live up to it, to this earnest affection they're offering you. You don't think you deserve it.
"How about this," Sirius says, in his typical cut-to-the-chase manner. "If we didn't love you—and have damn good reasons for loving you—we wouldn't be with you. So there." You must look unconvinced, because Sirius arches a brow. "You don't think that, with James' bod and Remus' hot accent, not to mention my boyish charm, we could have anyone we wanted?"
You crack a smile, but Sirius just looks at you, awaiting an answer. You shrink a bit under his gaze.
"You could," you say sheepishly.
"Right." Sirius grins suavely. "And we used those combined faculties to snag this hot piece of ass." Without warning, he reaches out and drags you into him, the two of you piling an unfair amount of weight onto Remus.
You squeal, and James shouts "Oi! Leave our poor Moony alone," tugging on Remus' arm until Remus sighs, disentangling himself from Sirius and going to sit beside James. James ruffles his hair, planting a triumphant kiss on the taller boy's cheek. If Remus blushes a bit, you pretend not to notice.
"Got that?" Sirius looks at you threateningly, but his voice is soft, his eyes imploring. "We want you, baby. Finders, keepers."
James nods as if this is a sage decree. "Think you might be able to get used to that?" he asks, and you know he's only partly joking.
You relax into Sirius' hold, giving Remus and James an apologetic look. "Yeah," you say. You can definitely get used to this.
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#poly!marauders angst#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#marauders fanfiction#marauders fanfic#marauders fic#the marauders#marauders era#marauders#marauders drabble#marauders oneshot#marauders scenario#marauders imagine
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as time gets close - jude bellingham x reader.
quick sum: almost close to your due date, what is wrong with a late-night grocery trip with your very excited and anxiously waiting fiance?
wc: 1.8k | masterlist | jude's masterlist
psa 🗣️: a little dad! jude blurb bc we haven’t seen much of this on the timeline!! like always hope you enjoy 🤍
"why are you bending down? you know that is bad for you," you rolled your eyes at your fiance's scolding, grabbing the keys from the floor. "i dropped the keys by accident," you say as you pick the correct key that belonged to the lock. jude rubbed your belly, ensuring you were okay before helping you out to the car, the reusable bags tucked underneath his arm.
"did you bring the list?" you ask him seeing as he nods and pulls it out from the pockets of his hoodie. "i did. i also brought you some snacks because you didn't eat much after getting some nausea," you pouted your lips leaning up to peck his cheek thanking him. "what would i do without you?" you tease, a playful scoff falling from his lips.
"what makes you think you'd be without me? i'm attached to you for life remember?" he grabs your left hand kissing over your ring finger as he gives you a knowing look. you feel as he brings your intertwined hands to your belly, "and you're carrying my baby in there."
"really i couldn't tell," you say sarcastically.
"let's make it quick because my feet already hurt and i want to sleep," you advised letting out a tired yawn. despite being close to your due date, you still had some work to do before maternity leave. making calls to set meetings, attending them over zoom, filing paperwork, in charge of making sure the firm doesn't backfire, and planning some stuff out for your wedding.
jude had told you multiple times to take it easy, but placing that aside, he always helped you unconditionally. in the shower, when cooking, taking care of chores, before bed, and attending all your doctor's appointments. he was your personal midwife and wanted to take care of you the most he could.
you remembered to look on his face when you told him you were expecting, the tears on his face as he spoke to your barely bump all night and traced his hands on your belly. singing and humming lullabies and stories about his day. since then he wanted to protect you the best he could.
going to the grocery store at this time was nothing new, in fact, it became so prevalent now that you were pregnant because you craved everything. making jude do a late run to pick up your cravings or groceries for the upcoming weeks. the same store, at the same time.
you placed your purse on the cart, snuggling into your jacket as the cold air inside the store blew you away. you followed jude who picked out veggies and greens for his meal prepping, helping him tie the bags and weigh them on the digital scale that produced labels. you watched in awe as your boyfriend picked out three pairs of different flowers. "what are these for?" you asked, smelling the flowery scent.
"for the house. we need to replace the old ones that dried out," jude says with a shy grin. "you were the one who said plants and flowers bring a sense of home into our house, " jude recalled your words, kissing your temple, pushing the cart since it became a bit heavier. "i did say that didn't i? well i wasn't wrong," you shrug, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he trailed along isles to pick up the different items on the list.
he did all the heavy lifting as you reached and picked stuff up from your level, like spices and eggs. you turn your back for a few seconds to retrieve some milk and coffee beans for the morning, to see the cart filled with pop tarts and other salty snacks. "no no no," you shake your head, as jude whines out protests. "y/n we need them! they're even on sale!"
“jude, i don’t care! we just got some three days ago!,” you say laughing, putting back the box of pop tarts. “y/n i’m telling you right now, in a couple of hours or days you’re gonna have me running back here for them,” jude states following behind you.
“am not!” you quickly defend, bringing a hand to your aching back. “are too! last night you had me running out for cheetos. what’s it going to be today? kettled popcorn? or wingstop?” jude teased making you rolls your eyes and focusing back on to what needed to get done. “don’t forget we need to pick some of that acid reflex stuff for you, to get rid of the heartburn,” jude reminds you, taking the cart and walking out of the pop tarts isle, sneaking a box in for you.
“what’s left on the list?” you ask him, taking out a small snack you had in your purse and offering some to jude. “we need bananas, strawberries, orange juice, and meats for upcoming dinners…” jude reads the list one by one, using his index finger as he goes along.
you pass by an isle grabbing some cereal and granola for your yogurts and bowls. jude insisting he grabs his favorite too since you refuse to share from your part. as you wait by the deli section jude come behind you, grabbing your belly and relieving some of the pressure.
you immediately lay your head back on his shoulder sighing in relief, hearing jude chuckle and place a kiss on your head. “almost there darling,” he whispered running one of his hands along your tummy. “i know what you’re doing jude… and if this baby starts kicking right now i’ll leave you here,” you warn.
“i’m just trying to help you love. doesn’t it feel good?” he reprimanded as you nodded. “yes but not when she starts kicking, i swear she does it on purpose and it’s your fault. like she knows it you,” you said feeling your lower back less tense and heavy. "i kid you not, last night she almost made me pee from this hard kick!"
"sounds to me like we have a mini footballer coming into our lives," said jude continuing to hold your belly since you were tired and your baby was heavy. he had read the method online with other tips and tricks. jude got more into reading when he found out you were pregnant, wanting to know every effect and secret to ensure a healthy and safe pregnancy.
"let's hope not, i don't think i could handle cleaning up broken stuff around the house every day," you sigh, releasing yourself from his hold because you began to get hot. you didn’t understand how your body was so quick to adjust and then de-adjust from hot and cold, but it was so easy and it drove you mad sometimes.
“you okay?” jude softened his eyes as you let out a breath of despair, holding your hand and feeling a sit squeezed tightly against his. “yeah just got a mini cramp,” you held your back and practiced breathing methods you learned, “i’m good, i promise,” you kiss his hand before retrieving the meats from the butcher. "we'll get home soon, and i promise you a warm tea and massage okay?"
"did you want chocolate or strawberry milk?" jude held up the pint containers, "strawberry, we still have chocolate milk at home," you said, jude nodding as he quickly picked the orange juice and your favorite yogurts. "i was never a fan of sweet or flavored milk but these are soooo good," you exaggerated, jude smiling hard down at you.
"never a fan? these were my childhood as a kid! my mum used to buy these or the powder to make it ourselves," jude says recalling a old memory thinking of his babygirl. "you reckon she'll like them too?" jude spoke softly as he saw you give him a fast nod. if there was one thing loved it was discussing his babygirl. he was so anxious and wanted to meet her. the itch in his teeth getting bigger as every day passes.
to hold her while she slept, hug her to keep her warm, coddle her to sleep, feed her. he was ready for it all. he loved to shop and spoil her already. her carrier, crib, different books, toys, and stuffed animals like he had as a kid. she didn't know it yet, but she would be jude's second best friend. firstly you. always you.
they saw if one ever finds love at first sight, and jude definitely did with you. a smile so bright, eyes gleaming with happiness, a stranger who he fell madly with almost immediately after hearing her say hello. through ups and downs, you found your way to each other and since then, it's a love story for the movies. jude had his career blowing, a beautiful fiancee, and now a baby on the way. what more could he want?
as jude helped bag the groceries into the recycled bags you had, you paid and thanked the cashier whom you got close with on nights like these. asking how her day was, about her kids, anything special, always something to distract her. "you two have a safe night!" she yelled as you turned and thanked, wishing her a good night as well.
after you insisted on helping, you carried four light bags as jude carried most bags since he hated double trips. you guys quickly unpacked everything, longing and wishing to get into bed. you ensure the stove and other appliances are off, grabbing your tea and heading upstairs with jude.
"lay here for me," jude instructed, grabbing some cream and begging to smooth and massage out the muscles on your legs and shoulders. "after we have her, i promise i'll return every single thing you did for me while i was pregnant," you say struggled and full pleasure as the tension went away at jude's fingertips. "oh i'm fully expecting the injured boyfriend method again," jude teased as he finished up.
he grabbed a new book, laying on your side as you brushed and played with a few curls on his head, twirling them around your finger as he breathed softly. he looked so gentle and full of excitement like this, reading to your babygirl, who sensed her daddy's voice as she kicked. she knew, she always knew.
he applied your belly oil to prevent any stretch marks and kissed the small ones that formed along the way. jude cherished your body for carrying his baby in there, for being able to give and bring a new life into his and yours. you laid on your side, jude's chest connecting and fitting the crevasse on your back, holding your tummy as in a way to keep it safe.
you placed and locked hands with his, as jude wishing you a goodnight, peering kissed on your shoulders then finally lips, moaning in delight, a tiny groan leaving his lips. "i love you so much darling," he whispered, kissing your temple and snuggling into you more. "iloveyoutoojude," you said fast, with a playful smile on your lips as you felt a familiar sensation of a certain craving. "okay now i do want some pop tarts..."
"are you serious right now?"
#jude bellingham#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham one shot#football fanfic#footballer#football x reader
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