#back on. and then took it off. and then put it back on. and then

[lovemomhatepolice]

a tiny accident(s) - lando norris navigation taglist requests

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

warnings: nose injury, blood, established relationship, drinking alcohol (lando), suggestive talks, nothing more, just lando being stupidly drunk lover, English is my second language!

type: fluff (a little bit suggestive)

word count: 2k

summary: when you feel unwell, but let your boyfriend alone at a party in Amsterdam, you definitely don’t think about what the consequences might be…

This wasn't the first time you've had a headache this week. It definitely wasn't. You had been plagued by terrible migraines for a long time, caused by stress and long-term travel from country to country. It was hard to switch from the Chinese air to that of the Netherlands, and you still had to travel to Miami, Italy and back to Monaco. All this in the span of one month. But what can you do? You were well aware of this when you met him and entered into a relationship with Lando. Travel, travel and more travel.

And so it was today, too. You and Lando arrived moments earlier in Amsterdam after racing in China and immediately got an invitation to a party. Oh, you knew very well how much Lando wanted to go there, so from the beginning you both assumed you were going and would have a great time. Well, unfortunately, fate willed that just today, an hour before the party you were attacked by a severe migraine relapse. Of course Lando wanted to stay with you - he always offers to do so, but you didn't have the heart to stop him and not let him go to the party, especially since you knew very well what helps you best with such ailments. Silence - and it definitely wouldn't have been there if the boy had stayed with you.

It wasn't long after he left that you totally drifted off and fell asleep on your apartment bed, wrapped in every possible layer with a cold cloth on your head. It wasn't long until you were roused from your slumber by the sound of the phone, which, despite your fondest dreams, didn't stop ringing after one time. “Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath, averting your eyes. You took the wet cloth off your forehead and put it down on the nightstand so as not to get the bed wet. You stretched slightly and grabbed your phone, which was vibrating on the nightstand. You unplugged it from the charger and, without even checking who was calling, you put it to your ear, waiting for the voice of the caller. “Hello?” You heard on the other end. It didn't take you long to figure out who the person banging on your phone was. “[Y.N], do you, do you hear me?”

“Um, yeah, yeah. Lando, is something wrong?” You asked slightly worried, recognizing well that the boy was already quite drunk.

You glanced at watch, which hung on the wall in front of you, and could see that it had been more than four hours since he had left, and it was beginning to get dark outside.

“I think I broke my nose.” He said, and you heard him snort softly through his nose. “Baby, what?” You asked, lifting yourself up on your shoulders.

You freed yourself from the quilt that enveloped you and got up on your feet. Now you didn't feel the earlier headache at all, only worry about the boy, who was somewhere in the middle of the Netherlands, drunk and with a supposedly broken nose.

“I think I broke my nose. I smashed it against broken glass.” He exclaimed in pain, and you could already imagine his glazed eyes.

“And do you know where you are now?” You asked, grabbing his car keys and jacket, which you quickly put on and left the room.

“Not very, but I'd like to eat cookies.” He cried out, speaking to you in a pleading voice.

“Excuse me?” You asked, placing the phone on your shoulder and putting your ear to it.

“Cookies. Please,” he muttered, at which you took a deep breath.

“Okay, we'll buy cookies, but tell me where you are.” You replied, shaking your head as you entered the elevator and chose the lowest floor, where the garages were.

“No, we won't buy. We'll make them” He replied, and you could imagine the grimace on his face. “Okay, we'll make them. Will you give me someone on the phone to tell me where you are?” You asked, and didn't have to wait long for an answer.

A good friend of Lando's, who seemed much more sober than your boyfriend, spoke into the phone and gave you the right location to come to. You quickly got into his car and merged into Amsterdam's traffic. It wasn't the first time you had driven his car, but you were definitely not a fan of being a driver. Mostly it was Lando who drove you everywhere and you felt damn safe with him in those cars. On your own, however, you preferred your calmer and rather larger car, which stayed in Monaco.

The road to the place where the party ship Lando was on was not very long. Especially since the navigation guided you with avoiding all the traffic jams that were associated with King's Day. As soon as you got there, you parked the car in a safe place and got out, searching with your eyes for your injured boyfriend.

Minutes later, you couldn't stand to laugh when you saw Lando sitting on the curb, half of his face wrapped in some kind of bandage, and there was an unnecessary crowd around him, through which you quickly made your way.

“Baby!” He muttered, rising abruptly to his feet, which made him wobble and catch the brick wall behind him.

“Lando, sunshine, what happened to you?” You asked, giggling under your breath, because his condition was pretty funny after all.

“I broke my nose!” He replied, stamping his foot. “Well, look.”

You heard, and just a second later the boy was in front of you, grabbing you firmly around the waist and directing your hand to his bandage. You carefully touched the material and twisted it to the side, being careful not to injure the boy.

“Lando silly, you don't have a broken nose. You scared me.” You replied, covering back his nose, which was not broken at all, but only slightly cut.

“Oh, but you don't know how it hurts me!” He howled, hugging your body to his. “Your hair smells nice.”

You laughed under your breath and, after extricating yourself from his grasp, grabbed his hand and led him out of the crowd. After all, he wasn't as drunk as you thought, so the way to the car wasn't long. Worse was convincing him to sit in the seat and not move too much so you could buckle him in.

“Lando, damn it, can you stop squirming like that? You're not going to drive without a seat belt!” You said, slightly resigned, when once again the boy evaded your touch.

“I like the way your hands go down there…” He muttered, guiding your hands closer to his crotch.

“Idiot,” you muttered, giggling under your breath, to which he also giggled and finally let himself be clasped.

The road to the apartment was quite quiet. You were stuck in traffic for a while, because this time it was not possible to get around them so agile. Lando, meanwhile, turned on the music on his radio and the two of you played a song together.

"You know what?" You heard it out of his mouth, and you gently nodded your head, not taking your eyes off the road.

"I'm listening to you," you asked.

"You're pretty sweet," he said, giggling under his nose.

"Well, thank you?" You asked, smiling at yourself.

"But you're also fucking sexy, my God! If you're driving my car, it's in my pants." he said giggling under his nose again.

Whoever knew Lando knew his giggle. At every possible opportunity, Norris giggled like teenage girls who were excited or ashamed. And no matter how long it's been since you two met, Lando still blushed and giggled a lot whenever he got the chance. So he did it all the time.

Of course, the boy did not miss the topic of cookies, for which he had fought so hard before, so your journey to the mixing room was lengthened by a twenty-minute stop in the store, even though you needed a maximum of seven ingredients for your joint baking. Lando could not pass indifferently by the cookie decorations zone (although you did not need them at all) or by the liquor shelf (although he constantly assured that he did not drink anything).

And finally, after all the pain you went through together (or rather you went through), you reached the apartment you had rented for this stay. Both of you laughing, and Lando also, still covered in blood, you headed to the toilet to clean yourself up. There were some splashes of water and quick kisses, which now seemed quite difficult due to his wound.

You quickly went to the closet to take out some looser pants for the boy and returned to the toilet, where he was sitting on the bathtub, waiting for you to fix him better than they did on the ship.

“Oh, my poor little boy,” you muttered, laughing to yourself as you stood between his legs and grabbed some hydrogen peroxide from the medicine cabinet.

“It's not funny [Y/N]” he said, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"Of course it is. How the hell could you smash your nose on a glass bottle?" You asked in disbelief, shaking your head, although after so many years with your boyfriend, this question should have been rather redundant.

"You're laughing at me. And I'm suffering here." He muttered, hissing under his breath when the wound was already quite disinfected and you put a small plaster on it so that he wouldn't touch it.

Sometimes he was worse than a child, but that was what you loved about him the most. You were both still young after all, why would you mature and become serious so quickly?

Soon you started making chocolate cookies. You knew very well that when Lando made something up, there was no way you could just ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. Oh no. Even if it was the middle of the night, you both would have to jump to your feet and run to the store to get something ready. Or suddenly get up and go out of town to watch the stars at night. That was Lando. And so were you. Damn stupid, head over heels in love with each other.

Baking with Lando was always fun. And baking cookies with Lando after midnight when he was drunk? Even funnier. You spilled the flour here, half a pack of cookie chocolates suddenly disappeared - Lando promised on his life that he didn't eat them - and somewhere in between you almost broke the blender. But in the end, you both looked with a smile at the chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, maybe not perfect, but with some heart in them.

"I can't wait to try them!" the boy said excitedly as you took them out of the oven.

Without waiting for you, Lando put them on a plate and carried them to the table in the living room. Sam sat down on the couch and waited until you joined him.

"Lando, be careful, they're hot-" you started to say, but you were interrupted by the boy's loud hissing, which made you burst into laughter. "Oh my god, you're going to kill yourself."

You hugged him your body, and the boy quickly placed his head in the crook of your neck, placing gentle kisses on it. He lifted his head up and stuck out his tongue at you, which he had burned himself on a moment earlier.

"Oh my god, did you burn yourself? Should I kiss you there?" You asked, laughing to yourself again at the boy's eager nod. "Oh, Lando..."

A/N: quiet short, but I hope that for the first time you will like it and accept it well :) i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 200 followers! maybe I can get in by the end of the week?

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

lando nswf alphabet

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norizz #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris

[nvuy]

to invoke perjury (and to love no one else) — sunday

summary. an old telltale whisper of a confession leaves sunday defenceless, and all the more paranoid of your loyalty to him.

notes. omg this is so epic i say as i hold up this work that nobody asked for. i finally finished the penacony tb quest everybody clap it up for me. my sunday obsession is so so bad somebody save me from the trenches.

warnings. mdni. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is (unsurprisingly) very controlling, sunday is also tremendously paranoid of everything, yandere themes, he makes you cry, sunday uses that weird lying curse on you, but worry not he does love you. i think. let me know if ive missed anything!

“You are breaking my heart.”

You glanced up from the model of the city, growing tired of picking at the corner of one of the buildings. A nervous habit, if you will. When Sunday noticed the damage later, he’d scold you for it.

For now, his eyes were elsewhere. He, too, was staring down at the miniature pinball machine, spinning it with a gloved finger.

You fidgeted, uncertain. “What?”

“You’re lying to me,” Sunday accused. His tone was soft.

Your hands pressed to the sides of the table. “I haven’t lied to you.”

“Not recently, no,” he agreed. He agreed, and you almost sprang from your seat. “But you have. And you still are.”

To that, you gripped the edge of the table tighter. Uncertainty wrought heavy in your bones like lead.

It suddenly felt cold. As if he’d slid ice along your spine. A chill wracked through you. You realised the feeling was his gaze.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

But he was still slowly twisting the pinball machine around and around. He then sighed.

And then he leaned back and traced a finger along the edge of the table, not at all mindful of the small animated figurines occupying the city.

He gave one of their heads a small push, and the small figure’s body sank into the floor.

You took it as a warning.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

Of course you did.

It was a swirl of colour and muted hushed whispers now, but you could recall taking his hand, promising him the world, and kissing along his fingers to the swell of his wrist.

You nodded meekly.

Sunday hummed, clearly lost in thought. “I never forgot what you said to me.” Oh, you knew that look. That distant, faraway look. Like he’s trapping himself in his own head again. He was good at that. Acting, pretending. Putting on a show. “I’d never felt the same again.”

He was still tracing the edge of the table.

There was a small grin on his face.

Such a pleasant expression, paired with that a gorgeous light-hearted tone. His voice sounded like a lullaby echoing in the back of your mind.

His halo was glowing in the light.

“You said to me you’d be my everything. You offered a piece of your very own soul to me.” He gloved finger flitted from the polished wood, and then stopped short of your hand resting on the table. “You have such a lovely heart.”

The muscle raced in your chest.

You weren’t sure if it was out of flattery or fear. You weren’t able to tell the difference anymore.

“Such a shame you continue to spit poison at me. I used to love talking to you.” His gloved finger followed the curvature of your knuckles. “You’ve changed. You’re so different from when I met you.”

Your hands curled into fists as he traced the bone-white colour as you squeezed. Your nails dug into your palms.

He’d changed, too. He’s different too. He’s more watchful now. He barely makes time for himself anymore. He’s always either working or watching you like a hawk.

It’s unnerving. The unsettling brush of his lashes against your skin, and that unbreaking stare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all you said. “I haven’t changed at all.”

Sunday hummed. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” You found the courage to glance up at him. That same unbreaking stare. When you met his gaze, he smiled. “I still care about you.”

“But, you don’t.” There was a light hearted ring in his voice.

You stopped. “What?”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

And there it was.

He was paranoid. He always had been, since the day you shedded a glove from his hand to kiss the skin wrapped around bone white knuckles. He’d been so busy pressing his nails into his palm, so preoccupied in what you were doing, why you were doing this, what you gained from it.

He’s paranoid now. He’s never stopped. He’s always been anxious. He’s always been overthinking your every move like you’re an opponent in a game of chess; always on his toes, always watching, either with his own eyes that more often than not, glared daggers into you, or through the nightingales that swarmed the mansion.

You were shaking. You tried to stop yourself.

He noticed. “You’re upset.”

“Of course, I’m upset.” Your nails dug into the underside of the table. You felt them strain as your jaw clenched.

“Is it wrong to think you’re dishonest?”

“Yes,” you answered. “Yes, it’s wrong. You’re wrong.”

“Perhaps I am, then, for falling in love with a liar.” His fingers chased up your arm slowly. “I always valued honesty above all. How rich.”

“But I’m–” You didn’t even know how to defend yourself.

Instead, you fell completely silent, face burning in humiliation.

The scent of him was intoxicating. Orange blossoms and sandalwood. You had memorised the scents of his favourite fragrances, the shampoo he used, down to his toothpaste. You knew all of it. The way he brushed his hair, the temperature of the water he preferred for his baths, to the chronological order of steps on how he got ready in the morning.

It was all order; a set of stagnant unchanging steps. Like he was following a recipe to its very word.

He was particular.

And he hated change.

He took your silence as an invitation to pry further. “You were so enchanting that night.” He was telling the truth. You could read it on his expression–and his expression. That same expression he held on that night you offered him your heart to take. “And I know now, that you are most enchanting when you lie.”

“What’s–” You interlocked your fingers. His own were tracing the bone of your shoulder now. “What have I done? Why’re you–”

“You, of all people, must understand my uncertainty,” he spoke. He sounded as if you were supposed to know the answer.

Maybe there was no answer at all. No spark to his flame. He’s just doing all of this, because he can. Because he’s paranoid, and he’s hiding his churning stomach and the anxiety that fills his throat with this stage play he’s put on.

“You willingly took in a perfect home, much different from where you came from.” He gestured to the room around him. Pillars that intricately curled into the ceiling, floor polished, the scaled model of Penacony tended to and dusted, and the walls featuring thousands of commissioned pieces from artists all over the galaxy. “No sorrows, no disorder, no dishonesty. Certainly not here.

His eyes shift to you again. “And certainly not now.”

You shrank down into your seat.

“And, under the light of the Harmony–” He raises his hands to gesture to the ceiling, as if THEY’RE watching over him. “–All wickedness is revealed. That is precisely why you're so radiant in the sunlight.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

He must have noticed your expression. You must have appeared distressed. Fidgeting nervously, your blood running cold beneath your skin.

Perhaps your apprehension, the clear anxiousness drawn over your face, egged him further.

He did not dwell on it. Instead, he simply narrowed his eyes. “It is as I suspected.” When your eyebrows raised in surprise, he continued, “you’ve been lying.”

“You don’t trust me anymore?” You frantically wiped a stray tear that had fallen. You hoped he didn’t notice the waver in your tone.

Sunday merely nodded, blinking slowly. “You understand now.”

You stared at the floor. His eyes were burning into your skull.

Your brows knitted together.

A bell tolled nearby.

You don’t recall any sort of church close by.

“I cannot excuse, nor house, nor bed, a liar. It is beyond THEIR natural order. Liars have no place in an assimilated, perfect world.”

You looked elsewhere. You picked nervously at the hem of your shirt, suddenly feeling like you were drowning in hot water.

Your nose filled and clogged with a horrible earthy scent much unlike his shampoo. This was different, real and raw, like there was somebody else in the room.

When you looked around, there was nobody else.

Just the two of you.

“Stand up,” he ordered softly.

You did so, hesitantly, still shaking.

You must have looked pathetic.

Sunday offered you his hand.

Desperate, you took it, and kissed his knuckles.

He let out a faint laugh. “That will not work. Not this time, I’m afraid.” He looked up towards the ceiling for a brief moment, before he closed his eyes. “O Triple-Faced Soul, let fire brand flesh and bone with the mark of honesty–”

Something was wrong, and his face was changing.

For a moment, you saw tracks like golden water flow down his cheeks.

His halo was glowing, but there was something else behind his head. A clouded and muted swirl of colours, mismatched and ever changing.

You tried to pull your hand from his grip, but there was a weight pressed to your limbs.

“–And ensure that every vow is etched in the fervour of undeniable truth.”

“What’re you–” He let go of your hand and you stumbled. The bell toll was only just louder by a margin, and there was now a searing heat in your head. “What’re you doing?!”

Your hands desperately rested on his shoulders, trying to keep yourself upright.

You tried again to wrench yourself from his touch. It was sickening how gentle he was being.

Slowly, he guided you back to the love seat, tutting and scolding you as you fought in his hold. How could somebody so horrible be so gentle?

You felt the urge to throw up all over his clothes. Sweat beaded down your neck and pooled at your collarbone like a necklace.

“What did you do to me?” You were panicking. “What have you done?” You pressed the pads of your fingers to your temples to try and soothe the burning. “You cursed me?”

“I’ve blessed you,” he whispered. “This way, you will be rectified.”

Something was whispering to you. Almost inaudible, indiscernible, like the banging of a death knell in your ears.

What is it? What is that?

You looked to him for an answer, but words caught heavy on your tongue like lead.

“All you have to do is tell the truth.”

You shook your head. “I’m not speaking to you like this,” you tried. Your voice came out strained.

“You don’t have a choice,” he snapped. “You are not in control.”

“You’ll hurt me for the sake of your precious pride?” Your hands coiled into fists at your sides. Thank the Lords he’d seated you, for you were sure you would’ve fallen over by now. Your feet had since gone numb.

The whispering was right in your ear. When you turned your head to confront the noise, there was nothing there.

“It will not hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday explained gently. “I hope that doesn’t come as a challenge to you.”

Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head–

“I’m not answering anything you ask,” you forced out through gritted teeth.

Sunday only let out a breathy, exasperated sigh. “Then don’t. We’ll see what happens to you.”

You said nothing.

Instead, you tried to stand up to leave. Screw this curse he’s put on your head because he’s retreated into his own insecurities. He wasn’t winning this time.

You were so sick of this paranoia.

When you stood, a dizziness hit you like a wave. You desperately reached for anything, and your hands found his. He did not guide you back down into the seat, but his gloved hands remained encased in yours.

Such a perfect, warm fit.

Sunday offered you a gentle, yet peculiar smile.

“Question: have you ever lied to me?”

You didn’t answer.

Your flesh felt as though it was set alight. As if the halovian had personally poured gasoline over you and held a match to the tip of your nose and watched you burn alive.

The whispering was loud. The voices was indiscernible. You couldn’t place a finger to its source, nor a face, nor a name. Three voices, all repeating the same thing. You could tell from its tone, its pitch modulation, and yet you couldn’t understand what was being spoken.

It didn’t sound like any language you knew.

“Answer the question, angel.”

Hot tears bubbled over your lashes.

“Yes.” You fought to keep the word lodged in the back of your throat, but when you forced it out, the lava on your tongue cooled significantly. The whispers grew softer.

He noticed the look of relief cross over your face. “See?” A gloved hand came down to gently touch the crown of your head. “Just answer truthfully, and it will all be okay.”

Then, the white material of his gloves came forward to swipe gently at the tears below your eyes. Salt soaked the soft cotton.

Your hand reached up shakily to hold onto his wrist.

“Did you lie to me the night we met?”

The swirls of colour around his halo were returning.

Your thumb traced the ring on his finger. Gold, with a blue gem on its interior.

Instead of answering, you tried to press your lips to his.

Sunday stopped you, though it took restraint. He held your face still, lips just barely brushing against your own. He tasted salt. Salt and sweet lies, and Aeons above was it addicting.

He sighed. “Don’t tempt me.” He watched you flinch, and rang a simple reminder, “answer.”

“Yes,” you said.

As he expected.

You were so beautiful like this. Raw, and honest.

His heart squeezed with disgust. “Did you lie when you said you loved me?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “No.”

He smiled.

“Did you lie when you said you’d die for me?” He tilted his head.

Your lips pressed together. Your fingers curled tight in the loose curls of his hair. Your nails brushed softly against his feathers.

Your chest heaved when he finally sat beside you on the couch. His skin was so warm pressed against yours, and the contact made you feel dizzy.

“Yes,” you responded.

He accepted it. His finger softly petted your cheek.

Oh, you were crying.

You felt so pathetic and weak, and bubbled words caught in your throat like fish on a hook. You felt trapped, and the colours behind his head were growing more vibrant, brighter, accompanying and drowning out that awful halo.

He’s horrible. He’s so horrible.

You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you needed him to leave. You needed him gone.

He beat you to it. “Do you hate me?”

You heaved a sob. “No.” And you didn’t. You didn’t hate him, despite his obsessive control and unjustified possessiveness. His hubris, and his inability to see past his own paranoia and fear. “Please stop.”

You pressed your lips to the small, poniard-shaped jewel on his chest.

Your sign of devotion did not deter him, though, he was sure you would always have some sort of effect on him.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday reminded you. There was a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, this time as firmly as you could—albeit your voice shook with fervour. “I never hated you.”

“I’m relieved.” His hand petted your hair. “So, so relieved.”

You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed.

You prayed it was over. You prayed and prayed for the voices to dissipate from your mind. You tried to will them away, to squeeze your eyes shut and beg for the whispers to fade into the background of white noise and static.

The kaleidoscope of colours crept below your eyelids.

Sunday held you securely, and as warm as he was, and as firm and yet so gently his arms sat snugly against you, you felt so cold. So cold and alone and so afraid.

He could fix that.

He hadn’t said a word for a moment.

The burning feeling of your skin returned, and you let out another drawn out noise of distress.

He shushed you. “One final question.”

You shook your head.

Your hands were trembling, fingers weakly pressing to your temples to rid the pounding that made your stomach churn. Your vision was swamped in swirls and patterns of colours you couldn’t put a name to.

His face, too, warped into something evil.

This wasn’t the man whose knuckles you’d kissed, whose wings gently fluttered against your skin, who’d plucked a small feather from them and handed it to you as a symbol of his devotion.

His halo dimmed for a moment.

You felt his lips brush against your ear and the tickle of a feather.

“Do you still love me?”

#$. after hours #$. the macrocosmos #sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

[starkeyisthelastname]

Rafe w plus-sized/chubby reader, pretty pleeeease??

(Would you guys like this as a series? 🌺🤔)

“Them stretch marks im nuttin all over.”

You read the text message over and over again. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you sat down on the edge of your bed. The way the heat was rushing to your core in such a fast manner, had you concerned. No man had ever made you feel this way especially a man this gorgeous. His name was Rafe and you had met him on Tinder of all places.

You had been in so many failed relationships that you were done trying, but of course there was only so long you could go with just using your rose toy. And while that little thing was amazing, you did miss the feeling of sex. Signing up for Tinder, you promised yourself that you were not looking for a relationship and merely only wanted to see if you could find a potential friends with benefits. You had never had one, always falling into these too quickly.

You weren’t exactly confident, your weight always getting in the way. Something you had struggled with as long as you could remember. You had a tummy, rolls, stretch marks, your face always being too round. You hated the fact men turned you away when asking for a picture of your body.

Rafe was muscular with light tan skin and gorgeous blue eyes. His profile read that he was 6’2, he worked at his dad’s business and he was looking for something causal. You thought you had nothing to lose and swiped right on his profile, not thinking anything of it. You were sure he wouldn’t give you the time of day.

You had just gotten out of the shower when you saw the notification.

You matched with Rafe!

Rafe sent you a message

Matched? You were in shock as you opened up the message hoping it wouldn’t scare him off that you were messaging him back so quickly. The two of you started off casual, making small conversation to learn a little about one another even exchanging numbers. It then led to being flirtatious, him causing your pussy to feel butterflies. He asked what you liked in bed, your turn ons, what made you feel good. When he asked for a picture of your body, you immediately got anxious. Normally you’d block the guy no matter how hot they were.

Sending him a full body picture of you and explaining that you had stretch marks, and cellulite and weren’t skinny by any means. You sat on the edge of your bed nervously. It took him a minute to reply, making you wonder if he got grossed out. But as soon as that text message came in, your eyes widened. Reading it over and over, you didn’t know how to reply.

Your phone dinged again, this time with an address. Was this really going to happen? As nervous as you were, you found yourself typing back a response.

“You want me to come over?” You bit your lip, waiting for a response. The typing bubbles appeared, only to disappear a few seconds after. Your phone buzzed in your hand, a video now having been sent from his end. You took a deep breath, clicking the play button where it turned to full screen. Your eyes widened as the camera focused on his grey sweatpants, the clear outline of a huge dick now in the frame. You instantly felt the ache run straight to your core, wanting to see more of it.

“What do you think? Let me put this in you, pretty girl.” The message below the video said.

You rang the doorbell, nervously rocking on your heels as you waited. This wasn't the best idea you had ever had. He could be a crazy person for all you knew. The house was rather dark and you didn't see much movement. You pulled out your phone to start to text him when you heard the sound of a door being opened.

You looked up to see him standing there. He was tall, his profile height being right. His eyes were the bluest shade you had ever seen, staring at you with the sexiest smirk. He was shirtless, toned abs making your mouth water as you couldn't help but glance at him.

“Hi.” You squeaked nervously.

“Hey.” His voice deep, making you want to cum right then and there. You swallowed the lump in your throat, stepping in the house as he opened the door wider. You looked around, the house neat with neutral colors. He cleared his throat, walking past you towards the living room. “Let me turn this off real quick and we will go upstairs.” He said, grabbing the remote and turning the tv off.

He led you up the stairs and down the hall to what you presumed to be his bedroom. It was surprisingly clean, and smelled of cedar and his cologne. He shut the door, walking past you to sit on the edge of the bed. You sat your purse down on the end of the dresser, hands folding in front of you in nerves.

“Come here.” He rasped out, eyes raking over you as you stepped closer to him. He roughly grabbed your hips to pull you between his legs, hand running down to grip your ass. “Don’t be shy with me. Alright? You’re fucking beautiful.” He said.

You had never felt or seen a dick so big. Your head hung down, flushed cheek pressed into the mattress as Rafe pounded you from behind. This position was almost too much for you, making you grab the sheets to almost pull away.

“Where you going, huh? Don’t start fucking runnin from me.” His voice about the sexiest thing you had ever heard. You felt his large hand come to your head, yanking your hair back in a tight fist. You let out a loud moan, eyes rolling back as he forced you to look up at him.

“Open your fucking mouth.” Rafe spat, gripping your jaw to force apart. You did exactly as you were told, not having much of a choice as he spit directly onto your tongue. You felt completely degraded, exactly one of your kinks you told him you had. He was not playing around with you, and the chokehold this man had you on was crazy.

He chuckled, leaning down to capture your tongue with his in a messy kiss, your poor cunt being drilled by his massive length at a constant pace. You whined against his mouth, pussy clenching around his cock as you already began to squirt against him and the sheets below.

“Shit.. you like ruining my sheets and shit?” His voice hoarse, reaching down to slap your thick ass cheek roughly.

All you could do was nod, head pounding from the still tight grip on your hair. You had completely came undone in just a short amount of time. The insecurities you had felt before had disappeared for the time being, Rafe worshipping your curves by fucking you exactly how you had wanted.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron prompt #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron blurb #obx smut #obx

[wonbin-truther]

hey babe <3 i got a haircut

it was the text no girlfriend wanted to receive and it was your growing fear as you watched mark's hair get longer and longer. you had expressed to him how much you loved his long hair. it had become a daily activity where he would lay his head in your lap as you played with and put his hair into weird hairstyles. you took the time every morning to tangle your fingers in it and run your hands through the long locks as sleep still lingered in the air. your stomach dropped as you opened your phone and saw that very text.

how much ...

you texted him back almost immediately. it was ultimately mark's decision to cut his hair and even with how dramatic you where, you were still going to stand beside your man; even if he was bald.

just a little off the top nothing too much

and dramatic is what you where when he walked into the shared apartment. his hair that had grown past his eyes was cut back to being a little above them. the back of it that had grown to his neck and was beginning to curl now revealed a fresh undercut. "how do you like it baby?" mark had a huge grin on his face that was hard to fight against. "it looks so good," your voice was shakier than you had wanted it to be. you could feel tears brimming your eyes.

mark was quick to rush over to you, "what's wrong?" he took you into his arms. "you're bald," you finally sobbed out. you hiccuped into his chest as you clung onto him. he laughed and patted your head, "i'm not bald. it was just a little cut". you cried harder into his chest, "they took it all off". he let out another laugh and just held you close to him. your sobs finally subsided and you pulled away to finally get a close up look of the new haircut. you felt tears in your eyes again and mark stared at you in shock as you practically flung yourself back into his arms. "what happened now? you don't like it?" he moved you away to wipe your tears and kiss your forehead.

"you're so fine," was the only sentence you were able to choke out.

#mark lee #mark lee nct #mark lee nct 127 #mark lee nct dream #mark drabbles #mark imagines #mark x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader #nct dream #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines

[babyleostuff]

taking care of sick svt | ot13

❥ seungcheol 

turns into the biggest man child, he’s like your typical man with a cold - he thinks he’s dying and is one step away from writing down his will. other than his usual dramatics, he’s easy to take care of, because let’s face it - cheol lives for your attention, and he gets plenty of that when he’s sick. his pout stays on his lips 24/7, even when he doses on and off, most likely while you cradle him close to your body, because only then is he able to rest properly. 

❥ jeonghan 

is being sick really that bad when your attention is 24/7 on him? jeonghan would be more than fine to take care of himself on his own, the cold wouldn’t really bother him anyways, but your presence would change everything. he’d let you dote on him as much as you’d want - he’d know your worry comes from a place of love and he would not have the heart to tell you that he wasn’t feeling that bad. would turn into the biggest cuddle bug, and you’d most probably spend the day under a thick blanket in your bed, watching bad movies. 

❥ joshua 

would insist on repeating that he is definitely not sick, not until his fever makes him look like an angry red tomato, and all he does is sneeze and cough his lungs out. 10/10 patient, he doesn’t try to fight with you over the medicine, he isn’t whiny like cheol, nor does he have the attitude of a dying man from a simple cold. he listens to you (like a good boy). when you tell him to rest - he rests, when you tell him to eat - he eats, when you put another blanket around his shivering form - he lets out a content sigh. 

❥ jun 

tries his best to find some medicine for his fever, before he gives up, and calls you for help (turns out he took one of your painkillers you use during your period). a clueless bub, but he tries, keyword - tires, his best to take care of himself. one of the koala squad members that will low key glue himself to you, and follow you anywhere (not that you mind, you love it when jun gets so clingy). you’d spend most of your days on the sofa, and when you’d get bored of the silly reality shows you’d change the scenery to your bedroom, and put on an animated movie (jun falls asleep 0.001 second after the movie starts).   

❥ hoshi 

a child. a literal child. while cheol is a man child, hoshi is just a child. you’d have to chase after him with medicine, and a cup of milk with garlic to help his cough, but he’d run away the second you’d enter the room. doesn’t want to listen because, one - he’s not sick (he’s coughing like a demon possessed him), and two - he can take care of himself (he can’t). but when you tire him enough, which is quickly because, well, he’s sick and his energy isn’t as high as it usually is, he becomes such a polite cutie pie, and doses off the second you pull his fav blanket over him.

❥ wonwoo 

he’d insist that he’s fine because he wouldn’t want to be a burden to you. he’d go around the apartment coughing and sneezing, his cheeks clearly red from the fever - but would still insist that he was fine. it wouldn’t be until you’d drag him by force to your bedroom, place him under the blankets, yell at him (lovingly) that he could never be a burden that he’d admit that he wasn’t feeling that great after all. wonwoo would try not to show how happy he was when you took care of him, but it wouldn't work - the sparkly eyes, and small pout told you everything you needed to know. sick wonwoo is also a very clingy wonwoo, so get ready for a clingy cat that will follow you everywhere.

❥ woozi 

another member of the “i’m not sick, i’m fine, leave me alone. proceeds to almost die from a cough” squad. woozi will go about his day like he’d usually would, and by now you know there's no point in trying to get him back to bed. the only solution you have left is to follow him around the apartment or his studio to make sure he stays hydrated, and to remind him of taking the medicine. as much as he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of his sickness, he’s so so grateful for you, your presence, your comforting hugs and gentle pecks on his forehead, as you try to silently take care of him, without disturbing his work. 

❥ dk 

happily lets you take care of him, because according to dk, your hugs and small kisses on the forehead are the best cure for sickness. does anything you ask him to (which is mainly to lay down) without any questions, and it makes the whole process of getting him back on his feet so much easier. he spends most of his days resting, wrapped up securely in your arms, with his head right over your heart, dozing on and off, while you read or watch a movie or show with the volume turned down as not to disturb his sleep. in conclusion - seokmin is just a little cuddle bug that wants to be the little spoon.  

❥ mingyu 

a very clingy, very pouty, and very sniffly gyu would be stuck to you for the whole time. he’d look a bit comical - his already big body covered by at least two thick blankets would make him look low key scary (don’t tell him that, he’d do sad puppy eyes, and bury himself in your bedroom under even more blankets). when he’s sick it’s also the only time he’s cold, and he’s the one in need of more heat, so his shivering form would be glued to yours because he needs specifically your body heat. but other than being a human koala, he’s very easy to take care of. no complaints, no whines.  

❥ minghao    

if it wasn’t for the sneezing or coughing, and he’s slightly red cheeks, you’d start to question if he really was sick. minghao is born ready to fight the cold, sneezing, and coughing - he’s the master of homemade medicine, and life hacks that seem to repel the germs better than the actual bought medicine. as much as he wouldn’t mind your doting, he always silently thrives off of your affection anyway, but he’d never act like he was feeling worse than he did - he wouldn’t want to make you worried just to have your attention in him. 

❥ seungkwan 

it’s time for you to turn into a stay at home mum, because seungwan needs you (read - your attention). he can get a bit bitchy and whiny, especially about medicine, but it’s mostly because he’s not feeling well (and a sick boo seungkwan equals a cranky boo seungkwan), but you know better than get angry at him for fussing over the coughing syrup. to be honest, all seungkwan wants, is to crawl under the blankets with you (preferably with you running your fingers through his messy hair). 

❥ vernon 

you have to pull out your nursing degree with this one. the only thing vernon relies on when sick is google (which tells him he’s on the verge of death) (he only has a slight cold), and phone calls to his mum (he tried making a soup) (he failed). he’s very easy to take care of, though, mostly because he’s pretty much clueless, so he doesn’t question anything you do. nonetheless, vernon would try to help you out as much as he could - he wouldn’t want to be a burden (he could never). + another one that gets so so clingy when sick 

❥ chan 

our baby chan is such a strong and independent person, and he thrives off of taking care of his loved ones, so when he’s the one in need of help he has a bit of a hard time accepting it. he’d insist he’s fine, then he’d almost cough his lungs out, and still insist he’s feeling great (which earns a very disapproving look from you), and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. it’s not that he doesn’t want your help, he’d just be afraid you’d think he’s weak, and a baby for asking for help. you’d have to scold him, before urging his ass back to bed, and threatening him that you’d deprive him of cuddles for the next month if he ever even thought like that ever again. 

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @haneulparadx @zozojella @hoichi02

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #svt reactions #seventeen kpop #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen carat #seventeen reaction #seventeen requests #seungcheol #jeonghan #joshua #woozi #wen junhui #wonwoo #vernon #svt #seungkwan #dino #svt woozi #mingyu #minghao #hoshi #chwe vernon

[rreids]

CRAMPS • S. REID X READER

reader gets a period and severe cramps; bau!reader; fluff; comfort; spencer is so sweet and also annoying; innuendo / mentions of orgasms; implied sex; spencer is sooo into reader; no established relationship; ~2300 words

Mother Nature sure had a way of ruining your day.

You’d known your period was starting, preemptively put a product, and brought painkillers in your go bag — but those painkillers were in your hotel room, thirty minutes from where you were. And it’s not like you could leave a crime scene you were profiling because of cramps, not when it was urgent that you caught the man behind the murders before he took another life.

You winced, holding your stomach as you stepped around a dried patch of blood and studied his ligature marks. “He’s getting more refined,” you told Spencer, brow furrowing as a wave of pain rolled through you. “Perfecting his fantasy. We should tell the others he’ll have a shorter cooling off period soon.”

Spencer makes a quick call to Emily before looking at you, hunched over slightly and face crumpled.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, Spence,” you grumble. “We have work to do.”

“You’re doubling over in pain, don’t tell me you’re fine.” Spencer chides, walking over to you. “I’m a doctor, tell me what’s wrong,” he’s teasing you a little, and you smile despite the cramps.

“Not that kind of doctor,” you scoff. “Just cramps. I’ll take meds and it’ll be tolerable,”

He frowns. “Tolerable?”

You exhale, half laugh and half sigh. “Not everyone is blessed with cramps that go away when you take painkillers.”

Spencer hums. “Menstrual cramps shouldn’t be debilitating, though. You’ve been clutching your side for three minutes and twenty-seven seconds and it only seems to be getting worse, guessing from the way you’re acting and talking. I’ll call Hotch. You need to take time off and rest.”

You shake your head. “Don’t. Like you said, it shouldn’t interfere. I can do my job.”

Spencer calls him anyways, and while it rings, he tells you “you need to be at your best to do your job. You can miss half a day to feel better.”

You glare at him as he tells Hotch you had something come up and need the rest of the day off, and your frown deepens as he takes the SUV keys from your bag and guides you with a hand on the small of your back towards the passenger seat.

“I can walk, Spencer,” you snap. 

“I know. But I also know you’re in a lot of pain. I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

You sigh but climb in, shifting in the seat until the pain eases a little. Spencer doesn’t comment as he starts the car and plugs in the navigation.

“Thank you,” you say finally, grabbing your water and taking a sip.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” his lips quirk up. “I’m going to make sure you have a source of heat, your painkillers, plenty of fluid, your menstrual products, and that you don’t move in ways that would exacerbate it.”

You stare at him dumbly. “You’re going to babysit me?”

Spencer hums. “If that’s what it takes, Agent __.”

You scoff and turn to stare out the window, pointedly remaining silent as he chatters about studies and colloquial ideas about periods. He’s onto the idea of periods syncing by the time you get to your room, and your head is pounding.

“Spence,” you sigh. “Please shut up.”

He nods and crowds so close to you as you open the door that you couldn’t lock him out, even if you tried. He sits you on the edge of the bed and has you direct him to your painkillers.

“Take them,” he places them next to your water. “I’ll make a warm compress for you,”

As much as you hate that he’s babying you on a work day, it is… nice… that he cares so much and is doing it right. 

He hands you a warm and damp washcloth, averting his eyes respectfully as you peel off your tank top and place it on your stomach.

When he settles in an armchair, you stare at him. “You’re not going to the station?”

He glances up at you, stutters for a second. “I can help from here.”

You tilt your head. “Who?”

“You.” Spencer smiles, cheeks turning a little pink. “And I’m a call away if they really need me. The car’s outside.”

You can’t find a reason to make him leave, so you settle into silence, broken only by him flipping through case files occasionally.

A sharp shooting pain makes you groan, and you wince. Spencer is immediately by your side. 

You motion towards your pills and he sighs.

“There’s still another three hours until you can take more medication.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “I hate it here.”

Spencer chuckles. “Do you want help?”

You raise your brows. “How?”

Spencer pauses, weighing options. “I can rub your lower back and give a conflicting stimulus in the same area. It will be distracting and also pleasant. I’ve read about how to give massages and touch like a masseuse would.”

You sigh and roll over before flopping into the mattress, voice muffled when you say “go ahead.”

His hands are gentle and warm as he very gently places his palms on either side of your spine. His thumbs roll gentle circles on knots before transitioning to gentle slides and pulls that use both knuckles and fingertips, stretching the muscles and adding a light compressing pressure.

You moan softly at another wave of cramps and his touch mixing, and Spencer only hums, beginning to rub soothing circles with just enough pressure that you melt under him.

“You only read about it?”

“Mm,” Spencer mumbles. “Never had anyone to give a massage to.”

You pause for a moment. “Saving it for a special someone?”

Spencer softly says “something like that,” tracing his movement just a little lower to the dimples of your lower back. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah, Spence,” you mumble. “Feels nice. You’re good at it.”

It’s then that you realize he answered your question affirmatively.

“What kind of special someone?”

Spencer clears his throat. “Does it matter?”

You turn your head to look at him, as best as you can. “To me.”

Spencer sighs, shoulders drooping. “Someone I care for.” His words are careful, precise, almost clipped. “A person who I don’t mind contact with. There are so many pathogens in physical touch, it has to be someone I feel comfortable with.”

You smile, and you can’t help the teasing lilt to your voice. “Are you comfortable with me, Spencer?”

He chuckles. “You know I am, __,” his voice is impossibly soft. “I trust and care for you a great deal.”

Your cramps are long forgotten, and you turn under him. He helps you, hands on your waist helping you shift and reposition comfortably. “Really?”

Spencer swallows, and you look at him curiously. He’s still pink. Red, even. “Really.” 

You barely hear him, but you do, and you grin.

“Hey, Spence?” He hums to let you know he heard you, fingers loosening on your waist as he realizes he’s still holding onto you. “You know any other ways to help with cramps?”

Spencer coughs on air. “Um—” his voice is strained, clearly having thought of something he doesn’t quite feel is appropriate to voice. “… there are other things I can go buy you,”

You tilt your head. “But aren’t there studies about orgasms being beneficial?”

Spencer’s eyes widen. “__…” his voice is almost warning, soft and surprised.

“I trust and care a great deal for you too, Spencer,” you whisper, and his eyes flicker to your lips. “You said you’d help me with the pain.”

He only stares for a few moments. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

i am on my period and therefore want spencer. simple math. girl math, even. also i am full of the rage of a thousand suns because i have severe cramps so forgive me for wanting him to fix me. i think he could do it. magical hands or something. not proofread like always never expect anything from me.

#my works #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid scenario #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Dick had to give it to the kid, he'd somehow thought of everything. It was a little concerning, actually, but the kid had brushed off every attempt had probing for answers. Who trained him? If he was trained at all. ...had the kid gone into vigilantism alone? Oh, dear. THat's not good fro Dick's current worries.

Reading the file Danny had handed him, Dick had to wonder how long it had taken him to put together this cover story. Also, where he'd managed to get the equipment to do it. At a glance, the kid didn't seem to have much on him. Not even a phone!

He closed the folder and set it back down on the table. "Really?" he asked, "'Congratulations, it's a boy'?"

Danny's cheeks turned a bit red as his gaze shifted to the folder. "Well, yeah. You're stuck with me now until I can get you into good habits and a healthier schedule."

"That implies that you're planning on leaving."

Danny shrugged, all his confidence now fading away. Is this what he's really like? "Well, I mean, I'm sure you don't want me sticking around at all, let alone for a while."

Dick frowned and looked back at the black folder and the binder sitting on his coffee table. God, his apartment's a mess! He smiled at Danny. "My name's Richard, but everyone calls me 'Dick'. You can stay in the guest room."

Danny lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Yep. You went to all this work, it'd be a shame if it all went to waste."

The grin on Danny's face was more than worth the security risk that he now posed. "You won't regret it, Mr. Dick!"

Dick smiled back at him, "Please, drop the formalities. We're cousins, apparently."

Was he attached? No. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached. Sure, maybe he was letting this kid - he really needs to start calling him Danny - stay with him for a while, but he wasn't going to get attached. Getting attached meant losing him. Dick wasn't sure he'd be able to survive if he lost someone again.

...damn it.

***

First order of business, now that Danny was officially Dick's - why would he willingly go by that nickname? - ward/cousin, Danny was going to make sure he got some sleep. Today was Dick's day off, so Danny had sent him to his room to take a much needed nap. The man was basically dead on his feet and Danny would be damned if he let him wander around this mess of an apartment with blurry vision.

The second thing he did, once he was sure Dick was asleep, was start to clean up. The place was a stereotypical bachelor's pad, complete with questionable stains in the carpet, rips in the cushions, dishes piled up in the sink, and old take-out on every table and counter. Gross.

He made quick work of the old take-out by throwing it all away and hitting it with a very small and controlled ectoblast. He was so glad Dick had disposable gloves on hand.

The dishes were the next thing he handed. The water was cleaner than in Gotham, so he didn't worry about washing the dishes by hand when they all didn't fit in the dishwasher. He dried the ones he'd hand washed before putting them away. Dick had no organisation in his cupboards, so Danny fixed that, too.

The fridge and freezer weren't too bad. Sure, the dairy products had all expired and most of the food was freezer bitten, but none of it was moldy yet and the appliance itself was in perfect working order. He'd have to go shopping later.

Danny had never liked cleaning, but he'd had to when his parents refused to follow any OSHA laws or Lab Safety courses. So, when he found the cleaning supplies, he took a deep breath and began scrubbing the bathroom. It wasn't too bad, thank god, and was already fairly clean. It was quick and he was able to move on very quickly.

The counters, tables, walls, and tile and wooden floors were all easy to clean with a wet rag and a broom. He wasn't going to even try saving the rug because it looked well beyond the point of no return. The couch and chair cushions could be sticked up, but he didn't have a sewing needle and thread with him.

The last thing he did before taking his backpack into the room he'd been given was to write down a shopping list and leave it on the counter. It wasn't a lot, just food and some dishes and toiletries. He'd have to figure out with Dick a way to pay rent, too, but that was a later Danny problem. He'd tired himself out and was still running on pretty much empty. So, he allowed himself to fall asleep. He'd check on Dick when he woke up.

Part 4

Tag List:

@flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581

#part 5 #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny phantom #dick grayson #nightwing #death is a legal barrier #work life balance #but it's being explained by a hypocrite 7 years younger than him #danny is going to make sure dick takes care of himself #dick is getting attached #danny needs a hug #dick needs a hug #dick needs help #danny's here to help #is it really adoption if the kid shows up one day and just doesn't leave? #a bit short but that's okay

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Happy holidays! By any chance, could I ask for a HC where MC gets into an accidental baby acquisition trope and has to babysit with Azul, Sebek, Malleus, and Riddle?

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul is about to write a ransom note if this person expects to get their baby back. He’s drawing up the terms of the contract as you’re coddling the baby, knowing there wasn’t a point in trying to talk him out of it as he was already infuriated that he’d had this responsibility dumped on him randomly. He doesn’t get how you can just accept this injustice and you rolled your eyes at him, telling him most people didn’t spend an hour negotiating a deal before performing a task. He still doesn’t want much to do with the baby but unfortunately for him the baby is endlessly fascinated with him; they constantly reach out to grab at his glasses or his hair, and he’s quickly scribbling additions onto the bill in regards to smudges and emotional distress.

He does eventually hold them when you have to retrieve something (the other alternative being they took off into the lounge if he just left them on the ground which he knew would piss you off, and he especially didn’t feel like dealing with that) but he claimed he didn’t enjoy the time. The baby continued to poke and prod at him, with Azul returning the gesture and poking at the baby’s cheeks which only sent them into a fit of giggles. It almost got a smile out of him but he couldn’t take the hit to his pride, huffing and hastily handing the baby back over when you returned.

Malleus Draconia:

Please keep an eye on that baby. Malleus’ only interaction with human babies had been with Silver when he was just a little ball of chub, and with Lilia being his father… Silver was lucky to have survived his childhood but he had always been special. This baby was not Silver however, and while Malleus would never purposely put them in harms way you can see he doesn’t have the same gentleness another human might have with a fragile little baby. He doesn’t mind when you correct him on the proper way to hold them and listened intently as you explained some of the actions to avoid, like pulling at their little limbs or allowing anything to hit their head. He thinks this is an interesting learning experience though he’s not quite sure what he might need to know about taking care of a human baby, but it also made him happy because it meant you were spending time together.

The baby looked up at Malleus with wide eyes at first, having never seen a fae with long horns or a man quite as striking as Malleus Draconia. They quieted down whenever Malleus spoke to them, seeming to like the sound of his voice and babbling back when he stopped talking. Once they were more comfortable with him they couldn’t help but reach up to touch his horns which you carefully monitored, watching as they felt the new texture and making sure they didn’t yank at them (or his hair) too harshly. Malleus commended their curiosity and lack of fear, thinking it was quite refreshing.

Riddle Rosehearts:

You might assume Riddle would try to collar a baby who was crying incessantly or who wouldn’t listen, but he was surprisingly patient. He took offense to that observation as of course you couldn’t force a baby to follow rules, but you could try and that would matter more than anything. He thinks it’s good to introduce kids to rules as early as possible so they can start getting them into their little heads even if they can’t memorize them quite yet; maybe in the future these early lessons would prove fruitful. He’s patient but it doesn’t mean he won’t get frustrated, able to pull all kinds of knowledge out about babies but not knowing how to truly connect with them.

The baby does stop crying each time Riddle began to talk about the rules, and he even pulled out a book to read through to keep them distracted. He thought this was a good activity because it gave them both something to do, and the little one did seem invested in what he was saying even if they didn’t truly understand. He had never been read to like this when he was young and it sent a pang through his heart, wondering if things might have been different if he had a little more wonder in his young life. Either way, he was no longer the baby in this situation and all he could do was hope they were enjoying their time with him while it lasted.

Sebek Zigvolt:

You think there might be a competition going on about who can be louder. Neither one of them even seem to be shouting but the baby responded with the same tone as Sebek, and his speaking voice just had a natural boom to it. While he had wanted to run at first you had begged him to help you, and while that hadn’t done much the baby’s fascination with Sebek’s portrait of Malleus had. You think the interaction is the funniest thing in the world especially when Sebek tried to indoctrinate the baby into the Malleus Draconia club, holding the portrait in his arms while tears gathered in his eyes.

The way he lit up when he talked about Malleus was cute and the baby clapped in response to his rambling, urging him to continue. Sebek wondered if he repeated Malleus’ name enough if the baby might say it. You stated the parents might not appreciate it but Sebek said it was their own fault as they were the ones who suddenly left him with the baby; either way, they should be honored if Malleus’ name was the first word they uttered. The baby has not a single clue what’s going on but thinks the two of you going back and forth is hilarious, collapsing into fits of giggles each time Sebek made a new face at you trying to reign in his Malleus obsession.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Malleus Draconia #Riddle Rosehearts #Sebek Zigvolt #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Riddle Rosehearts x Reader #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

[samkerrworshipper]

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader (wobbs as coparents)

reconciliation … the final part in this series x

2 months later:

“My name is y/n Williamson-Nobbs, and I am an addict.”

There are things you appreciate nowadays, more then you did before. Fresh air, the flowers blooming in spring, a strong coffee, smiles from strangers, a warm bed, hugs, being told you are enough, a classic movie, the sun, fruit, water, being clean.

“I didn’t ever take drugs to hurt anybody, or hurt anybody knowingly. I didn’t take drugs to have fun, or party, I didn’t get addicted because I liked it.”

You like taking your dog on walks, going and getting your hair done, floating in the ocean, lying in grass, being sober.

“I took drugs because it made me feel whole. I’ve never felt whole in my entire life, everyday in my life I’ve used something to patch that hole up, during my childhood I tried to fix every single problem, I fixed myself by fixing everybody else in my life, my mom, my non existent dad. As I got older it changed, I seeked validation to patch the hole, it was healthy, but I think I’ve always been an addict and I always will be. I’ve been addicted to filling that hole, it was disguised as being healthy for most of my life until I switched the validation for drugs.”

You don’t avoid peoples eye contact as you walk along the street anymore, you don’t avoid your moms, you don’t lie to people anymore, you don’t put yourself in danger.

“It started with nicotine, because my mom enabled it. I think she was more scared for me then anything. I was spiralling, who wouldn’t be in this day and age? I mean any parent of a teen must be terrified in this day and age, I know I would be. The nicotine was good, but then I got introduced to weed, and it felt like every problem I’ve ever had was fixed.”

You talk about your feelings now, you identify every single thing that you feel and you talk about it with as much detail as your moms and therapist want to hear. You don’t study the different chemicals entering your body every time you shoot up anymore, you study the intricacy and meaning of what you are going through. You take medicine for your depression and anxiety, not drugs for your hopelessness.

“They say weed is the pipeline drug, it’s true. After weed, I felt on top of the world and there was no stopping me. Molly, LSD, coke, heroin, benzos, fentanyl, ketamine, oxy, speed, and eventually meth, which I now know to be the worst of all of them. I didn’t know it at the time, there wasn’t anybody in my life, or in the life I’d created forn myself that was willing to tell me how dangerous what I was doing was.”

Jordan moved back in, whilst you were in rehab. It had been two weeks, that’s what you agreed to. It was the worst two weeks of your life without any doubt. But when you were picked up, both your moms were there, both of them were there for you. They both took time off, time off to take you away, across to France for a week.

“Meth will always be the thing that destroyed my life. My parents don’t trust me anymore, I get why. I lashed out, I became devoid of everything, I was convinced that everybody hated me, and that I was the cause of everybody’s pain, including my own. I convinced myself that the people who loved me the very most didn’t, and that I was the bomb that had torn all of my relationships in my life apart. I was a kid though, I still am, and I’m trying to be better.”

The trust was a hard thing. Your therapist saw Leah and Jordan twice a week, and that was when they would discuss the things that they could start reintroducing you to. School was a no, for now. You were yet to be permitted to stay at the house, alone, for longer then an hour, so every training session, gym session, appointment, media duty, catch up with friends, you were dragged to. It had been tough in the beginning, but you understood, trust had to be earnt. Every week there was something to look forward to, Jordan had been teaching you to drive after you’d gotten out of rehab, and as of a week ago you were permitted to drive yourself to and from your NA meetings.

“Meth made me feel like I was on top of the world, even though i was at my rock bottom. I had bad friends, I fell into a bad group of people, people who took advantage of the fact that I was so vulnerable and hurt. I’ll never forgive them for that, I’ll never be able to forgive them for taking advantage of a girl nearly ten years younger then them. They were hurting too, but that doesn’t excuse manipulating another person. They hurt me, they enabled me, they assaulted me, they took things from me that I’ll never get back.”

The first thing your mothers had wanted when after you’d come clean to them about everything was for you to get a rape kit. You’d outright refused, you were protecting the people, you didn’t want to relive what had happened to you but also a part of you didn’t want Matt and Maya to go down, even if you could now recognise that they’d done unforgivable things to you. Eventually, you agreed to it. You were glad you did, Matt had passed on chlamydia to you, which you thought was some kind of sick joke, that even after he’d deserted you there was still parts of him that were hurting you from the insides. Karma came in the form of a sexual assault report, one which had the policemen heading to his home to arresst him, only to finds thousands of dollars worth of illicit substances.

“I’m not proud of what I did to get a fix, I don’t think any recovering addict is. A couple of months ago I would have ruined every single relationship I had with all of the people I loved just to get a hit of what I was craving, and nowadays I would probably do the same, but I don’t need to. Meth was the love of my life, I think it always will be, or maybe the craving for something to fill me up is what I crave, I don’t really know, I’m still working everyday to try and figure that out.”

Sometimes, as you drove home at night, around every corner towards the house, you considered taking a stop at a side street, one that you knew a dealer would be sitting on. Somedays, you considered driving the car off of the highway and into a tree. Somedays, you considered taking a blade to your throat so you didn’t have to do rehab. Somedays though, you felt so incredibly blessed to be alive. Sometimes, you would sit outside, in the sun and just feel, allow yourself to feel everything that you’d always pushed down out of fear that you’d be deserted if you let any true emotion show.

“We’re all human, we all have the same dignity, no matter who we are. I made some stupid choices, choices that I won’t ever be able to reckon with, choices that for the rest of my life will haunt me. Don’t we all though? Don’t we all lie awake at night worrying about the things that we’ve done, that are out of our control now?”

You’d come to not fear desertion, the people who you’d hated most in the world but also loved most in the world had deserted you. Your parents had deserted you, you closest friends, people you would have considered your found family, deserted you. It was something you had no control over, something that you would never have control over and focusing all of your energy on trying to fix that had become something that you’d give up on.

“I’m not perfect, I never have been, I never will be. I can guarantee though that nobody in this room feels like they are perfect. We’re all hurt people, everybody has something that they keep hidden from people because they are scared that somehow it is going to make people see them differently. I’m guilty of it, my whole life i’ve been hiding, I still am. I’m not ashamed to admit that coming here every night terrifies me, that somebody I’ve known at some stage of my life will walk through the same doors I do and I’ll be put face to face with that, but it’s life. We all make our own mistakes, we all pave our own ways.”

Leah and Jordan still fought, you were secretly glad. It was clear that everything between them was done, which you hated to be happy about, You weren’t ready for that to be back to normal, you weren’t ready to feel like you were able to go back to the way life was when they were together. Lia mediated them, she balanced everything out and the two of you had managed to build a relationship. She was like the older sister you’d never had and you were happier to have her around knowing that she was happy to support you in the same way your moms would, even if she wasn’t living in the same house as you all anymore.

“I will never be able to properly apologise for how I acted, I’ll never be able to repay the people that found me at my lowest and still showed uo for me. I owe my life to those people, and I will spend every single day of my life being so thankful for the opportunity they have given me to have a second chance.”

Life was better, everything was better, you were recovering, you were learning. You felt more connected and loved by the people around you in your whole life. You didn’t feel like you had to seek out love anymore, you didn’t feel like you had to do something to earn it. Leah spent every minute of everyday doing small things to make you feel loved, dragging you out of the house to get coffee with her, reading with you every night before bed, sitting through you when the cravings were making your day harder, driving you to the beach when you felt like you needed fresh air, dragging you to physio appointments so you could hang out with your aunties, buying you fresh flowers to put in your room to make the dark memories of it a little bit nicer, helping you redecorate the space, letting you sleep in her bed when the tendencies started to burn all over your skin.

“I have a disease, I have a terminal illness that will forever impair my ability to live life normally. I will forever be attached to my past, and that’s really tough, I won’t ever be cured of my past, I won’t ever be able to say that I am free of my addiction, I will forever be tied to my decisions.”

Your therapist was helping you weed out all the bad, helping you to identify the different patterns of self destructive behaviour that you chose, helping you to make better decisions for yourself, decisions that didn’t end in you destroying everything you’d worked for.

“I’m an addict, we all are, we all know what it feels like to be plagued with our past. We all get up here every week and speak about our demons, because we all get it. We get what it feels like to lose everything, we all understand the terror that crosses over a persons face when you overdose, or tell them that you’re using, or when they wake up across from your hospital bed. We’re all going through our own shit, we’re all struggling everyday. I struggle everyday, because I’m an addict, for the rest of my life I will struggle because I’m an addict, but there isn’t anybody who understands me better than all of you. I’ve been sober for two months, there have been relapses, there have been struggles, there has been pain and so much for me to be ashamed of. There has been so many positives though, there has been so much good, so much happiness, so many good moments. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, there is too much bad in this world for me to believe in that, but I do believe that this experience has made me a better person, it’s made me stronger, its made me more resilient. The past two months have been some of the best parts of my life, and i intend for the rest of my life to be the same. This chip means a lot to me, but it’s the progress that makes all of this better, knowing that I’ve left parts of me behind that will now stay behind me forever.”

You looked down at the chip in your hands, the little bronzey coin that was so small but felt like it was bigger then the world to you. You smiled at the group of people around you, nodding your head once again before walking towards you sponsor and giving them a hug. It felt good, like a big weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d never spoken much in meetings, you were more than happy to hear other peoples stories, but tonight had been special to you. You’d thought about what you were going to say, much of it being what you’d talked about with your moms earlier in the week during family therapy. It had been hard, talking to your moms so openly about how you felt, but it was something you were becoming better at as the days passed.

You stayed around for the coffee and biscuits, talking with the people that you’d grown close to over the past month and a half in the mildewy church which smelt a little bit too similar to your great grandmothers living room.

You stuck around until the first few people started to trail out, before you made the decision it was time to get home. You said your goodbyes, farewelling your friends before dismissing yourself and making the walk out to the carpark, towards Leah’s car.

Driving had become your one piece of real freedom, it was the only time where you got to think to yourself. A couple of months ago, you would have found solace in continuous loneliness, you would have sat in the car for hours and been happy. Now though, you found yourself navigating your way back home as fast as possible, whilst still abiding by road rules.

The gravel driveway underneath the wheels of a car used to make you nervous, if anything it now made you feel anticipation.

You jumped from the car with a hop in your step, the bronze chip still clutched in your palm, the metal now warm against your skin after the acclimation of the metal to your body temperature.

You used your key to enter the door, smiling at the warmth and scent that you were met with as you untied your shoes and left them by the front door.

Leah was waiting for you in the kitchen, she always was, every night you decided to go to a meeting. You knew that she still worried, that she spent nights awake worrying about you. You’d lost count of how many times on the nights you spent in your own bed how often she’d come to check to make sure you were still lying there. She probably always would worry, you wouldn’t blame her if she did, you’d put her through a lot.

She brought you into a hug, the same hug as every night, it always lasted for a little bit too long, but you never brought it up.

She would hug you tighter every single time, it was clockwork.

“Lia’s come over for dinner, she’s cooked spaghetti for everybody, but she made bangers and mash for you special, no pasta.”

You smiled at your mom, letting her press a chaste kiss to your forehead before you followed her into the dining room, where dinner was already plated up and Jordan and Lia were already seated at the table.

Jordan sent a smile your way as you sat down, things were still rocky between the two of you, it was never going to be perfect, it was never going to be as good as before, but you were both doing the work to heal bits of it and that was what mattered.

“Hey bubba, how was your meeting?”

Most nights you answered the same, with something simple.

“Good, I got this today.”

You pushed the chip onto the table, pulling your phone out of your pocket so you didn’t have to witness their raw reactions.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, no phones at the table.”

You frowned, pushing your phone back into your trackpant pocket, and looking up at your moms.

“This is awesome bubba, we’re both so proud of you.”

Jordan had picked up the coin, looking at it with glazed eyes.

There had been a lot of that since you’d come out of rehab, a lot of crying, a lot more than you were comfortable with.

“I want you to keep it.”

Jordan looked up at you, mildly confused.

“Bubba, it’s your token, your progress, your hardwork, you should keep it.”

You shook your head.

“Mom has my one month one, I want you to keep this one. I’m doing it for you two, I’m trying to be better for you two, and I want you to know that I’m committed to it and that without you guys I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

You could see tears pooling in Leah’s eyes from the other side of the table, jordan’s own ones beginning to drip down her face.

“Anyways, it’s not big deal, let’s have dinner, I’m sure whatever Lia cooked up is better than anything you and mom could have managed.”

You tried to pass it off with some lighthearted humour, but based off of the tears on your parents face, it wasn’t doing much.

Jordan and Leah both reached over, taking a hand in each of yours.

“You know that no matter what happens, no matter where you go, who you become, what you do, how you live your life, you will always be our beautiful girl.”

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson is mom #leah makes me cry #leah williamson fic #jordan and leah #leah williamson imagine #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan nobbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso appreciation #sammykworshipperfics

[corollaservant]

There’s just something about lanky men. (18+)

You know, the type of man who’s scrawny, awkward and with a small ribcage (not from working out, genetics, you cuss). The one who doesn't put emphasis on his clothing, wearing whichever clean tshirt he can find, a pile of dirty clothes accumulating in his bedroom. The one who has water bottles, take out bags, cigarettes or weed papers and a nasty sink in his apartment. The one who has messy hair, tired eyes and cannot socialize for the life of him. The one who scratches his head, looks down awkwardly as he crosses his legs and sits weirdly on a chair. The type to never initiate a first move, friendship.. let’s not even talk about sex. There’s something about these men, you wouldn't call it a fetish, no, you don’t judge people by body types, that’s weird. It’s just that you notice a pattern here. Cause everytime you find these traits, you kind of guess their personality too. And maybe sometimes..you’re wrong.

They’re the same ones that will bend you in half, once they get the slightest hint you might be into them. The type to inexplicably know how to work their fingers in your little cunt, hell, you’d think they were pros in another life, the mastery in pace, roughness and multitasking is crazy here. These guys have you wet your panties like you can’t. By yourself. Alone. They kiss you while they’re at it too, don’t think they can’t do both. They kiss softly, open mouthed but desperately at the same time, kind of like they don’t want you to be able to breathe anymore. And… you can’t, but they don’t stop until you push their shoulders back, breathing through your nose isn't enough.

They’re the type to stay silent when you suck them off, concentrated and focused on your performance. They might bite their lips and hum softly, you’d think they don’t even like it even when you’re gagging down their whole length (palm included, as they’re large and girthy). Your throat aches and you haven’t even stopped the act and here they are silent and unappreciative, you might think. Well, you’re wrong. They appreciate it more than they let on. Do you know what it took for them to master this composure? Endless nights of jerking off just to the sight of your pretty pussy, cumming and cumming until they could build up some endurance. Mind you, they are talented but lack in the sexual experience department. Porn doesn’t get them off, they think it’s performative and staged, can’t get hard watching some poor woman fake moan and look at the camera, they think it’s embarrassing. No, instead they can easily picture you, with your legs spread and your pretty cunt glistening — anticipating their touch. Be it their skilled, slender fingers, their drooling mouth (yes, they drool inside) or their throbbing cock, they can’t get enough of your widened eyes and parted mouth and you can't stop silently begging just for a touch. And they cum, they aren’t too loud even when alone (they whimper inside) so imagine how much they try to stifle their moans when with you. You may have started deepthroating them, but their cock jerked the moment you ran your tongue down their shaft once, didn’t you notice it? They take it, you didn’t. They are close to cumming, they bite their tongue and can feel the metallic taste of blood their sinking teeth left, shit, they wouldn’t be able to taste you properly later on; they think and cuss instead of thinking the trouble they'll have swallowing down food. 

They quietly push you off, they really want to cum but these men are selfless. They don’t want to put anyone's pleasure above yours so they throw you on the bed. That’s where you were wrong too. You see them, a skeleton in clothes and think ‘’damn, this guy really is a loser’’..well, if he is, then he certainly is a strong one, these dudes have muscles you can’t even see and the rage that fuels them, makes up for it. They want to lick up a strip from your hole trickling down your left thigh, shit, they're so tempted, they might come on the mattress for all they care but their cock throbs when you ask them to fuck you instead.. if that's what you want, who are they to say no?

Their lanky chest presses against you, you can feel the pressure from their protruding bones on your skin, as they sigh, their sticky slit coming in contact with your also wet (soaked) entrance. They might just sigh but their brain is fighting a hard battle right now, to not cum just by the friction and the mess of fluids. Once you beg repeatedly (‘’please—baby, please!’’) and they can’t take it anymore, they awkwardly push the length past your folds, it slams in you violently as their sternum clashes onto you. You moan, it feels heavenly, a remarkable girth that stuffs you to the brim. They don't bottom out yet, you think fuck it, there's more? Oh sure, there is. They will shyly push more in, inch after inch, these men are NOT talkative but will make sure you are ok for good measure, wouldn't want you fainting or in pain due to their stupid cock. Little do they know, you want more and fast, but that's ok, whatever you order, they deliver. You can't tell, if they do it with skill or instinct but the thrusts are calculated and timed and they bring you close to an intense orgasm, they know it — they are observers, noticing the type and volume of moans that exit your mouth each time, that is why a slender pad of their finger is brought against your clit. They know how to hover and tilt their hips inside you simultaneously as they tease you. ‘’B–baby, oh my god.. please’’ you mewl, you shut your eyes and they’re close too. You just squeeze too damn much, whether you know it or not (they never tell you that they'd sell their soul to feel like this every day). Soon enough you're cumming, screaming loudly, only.. it's real with you, your body can’t lie and so can’t your eyes, glossy and ready to spill teardrops. These men will not be vocal (or at least they'll try not to be) but this is their breaking point, it's too much — you're too much and they finally whimper, not loud but just enough for you to hear as they let a big load inside you. They’re a deprived and awkward mess, that doesn't believe you would even bat them an eye, when you met them. Well, maybe it's their time to re-evaluate you.

—

(wrote this with surprise surprise.. Shiggy in mind but it suits others too)

L, Mello my man, black hair Dabi, Aizawa, Fyodor, Aku, literally anyone from Nana cast, who’s not a child or Takumi and please! let me add Hobie Brown.

#spam acc drabble #shigaraki x reader #l x reader #dabi x reader #aizawa x reader #mello x reader #ren honjo x reader #yasu x reader #fyodor x reader #akutagawa x reader #hobie brown x reader #corollaservant

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 14 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 15

You told Mrs George (or was it Ms George now? Too soon?) that you'd drive yourself to the school. Under no circumstance did you want to sit in close quarters to Regina. Besides, you knew she'd have to be there significantly earlier because she was performing. If the thought of being near Regina made you uncomfortable, that of being in that building made your skin crawl.

Why you were even bothering to go was beyond you. You'd been made into a laughing stock, a subject for people to talk about and twist around for the rest of the break. There was no PR response you could concoct to fix this, because for one, there was no time, and secondly nobody would want to hear it.

Maybe this wouldn't ruin your entire fucking life. Maybe you'd get over it eventually. Maybe it would all turn out fine. But it didn't feel like that. You could understand Regina more now, could see more clearly what she'd been talking about when she went on that rant.

Thinking all your problems would dissolve once you were old enough was stupid. That could only be applied to something vain, like pimples and pit stains and body odour. But issues like Regina's, utter self-hatred weaponized against society and everybody around her, and yours, chronic doormat syndrome with a side of people pleaser, could not just resolve. One could not pray the gay away, could not sweep it all under the rug.

You looked at the chicken sandwich in your hand. Mrs George had made some for lunch earlier and you'd swung by after the grocery trip to get you one. Then, she'd driven back to yours, helped you pack it all away, and made a weekly meal plan with you while you ate. It'd been nice. And the chicken sandwich was divine.

Your tummy was already full, but you didn't want to stop eating. You almost never got to really stuff yourself. The feeling of it was luxurious, though painful.

You put off going for as long as you could. You left at just the last minute, cutting it dangerously close. Didn't bother changing your clothes or anything. A hoodie and jeans, your usual jacket and scarf. By the time you arrived on the scene, the parking lot was pretty much deserted. You hustled to the gym where the thing was set up and easily found Mrs George and Kylie.

"C'mon, it's- it's- it's almost starting!" Kylie hissed at you, patting the seat next to her.

"Okay okay!" You whisper shouted back, mustering a little excitement for the little girl's sake.

Most of the performances were utterly dull. To be fair, the talent show was also an opportunity to get extra credit for some classes. Several people from your Spanish class took the stage. There was poetry and a couple songs, all mediocre at best. A pair performed a salsa number, which was surprising on two accounts. One, they were both dudes and two, they were good.

After Damien's dramatic rendition of Christina Aguilera's Beautiful, it was time for The Plastics to take the stage. Karen, Gretchen, and Cady were slowly revealed by the curtain. Cady stood front and centre, Gretchen to her left and Karen to the right.

Unlike many of the other dance performances of the night, the highlight was certainly not the choreography. The wow factor was hinged on the simple fact that it was them, specifically these girls, in latex, borderline slutty Santa costumes doing a provocative dance. The audience was not thrilled, the adults' reactions ranging from mildly uncomfortable to downright scandalized, while the other high schoolers looked on in either lust or disappointment that the act was missing the thing that had made it interesting in the first place.

Regina George had been the main attraction. Without her, without her effortless stage presence making the dance seem interesting, it was actually pretty embarrassing.

You had to look away when they started doing stunts. Karen went to the floor on all fours crab walk style, while Gretchen positioned herself behind her, and Cady geared up to- you couldn't watch. Suddenly, the music cut out and a heavy thump accompanied by someone's breath wooshing out of their lungs echoed through the gymnasium.

Kylie covered her mouth in a valiant effort not to laugh. You bumped your shoulder into hers. She bumped back. Mrs George had gasped and almost surged out of her seat. A beat of silence. Then, like water rippling, laughter began to bubble out of people.

You still couldn't watch. You could hear heels clicking on stage, groaning, and some frantic whispering. Kylie had tears in her eyes and her whole body was shaking.

"What's happening?" You whispered to her.

"Cady... She... Belly flopped the stage." She managed to get out before bursting into giggles.

"What? Is she, like, okay?"

"She's getting up. The principle's getting on stage." Kylie reported while you kept your eyes firmly on your lap. "He's gonna say something, oh, Gretchen's taking the mic-"

You had to look up when you heard your full name being spoken into the microphone, but regretted it as soon as Gretchen finished the sentence:

"-is a lesbian!" Quiet. Again.

You looked down so fast your neck cracked. Through the tinnitus in your ears, you could vaguely hear the principal admonishing Gretchen, the murmurs in the hall, their heels clicking off stage.

Why was Gretchen of all people announcing your sexuality at the talent show? What did she have to do with any of this? Maybe Regina had put her up to it. It didn't seem planned, though. You thought that Regina and Gretchen weren't talking.

"What's a lesbian?" Kylie asked you, all innocence and wide eyes.

"Kylie, don't ask that, it's not appropriate." Mrs George said.

"Why? Is it a bad word?" She turned to her mother. You took deep breaths and clenched your fists. Unclench. Clench. Everything was going to be fine.

"No, but it's not good to accuse somebody like that." Mrs George tried to explain gently, but you could tell she was out of her depth.

"But what does it mean?"

"Kylie, I said don't-"

"It means a girl that likes girls." You cut in.

"Huh... So like how boys like girls, but a girl likes a girl?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay."

You would've paid so much money for it to be that simple. Why you couldn't be afforded the benefit of the doubt that you weren't a pervert, riddled with disease, and out to get people? Why was it so unbelievable that you didn't want to change the world, you just wanted to get married someday? Why did kissing girls on the mouth make you a predator?

You suspected there were no real answers to those questions. Fear. Repression. The patriarchy. Religion. The wage gap. Whatever.

The show went on. You felt numb. Realistically, what could you even do? Stand up and shout that it wasn't true? That would only serve to put a name to a face. The next talents came and performed their mediocrity to the mildly interested crowd. There was a pretty good sleight-of-hand magician. Somebody had trained their cat to do tricks.

Eventually, it was Regina's turn to take the stage. You couldn't help but perk up when they announced her. Mrs George was out of her seat immediately, kneeling on the pathway to the stage with a video camera poised to film her daughter.

The curtains parted. She stood in the centre of the stage, mic stand in front of her. She smiled a little, eyes on her mom presumably.

Her hair was done in soft waves, framing her face so beautifully. Natural makeup kept light, a compromise between the bare face that you liked and the full beat she was into. She was wearing an old white tee shirt, the logo so faded you could barely make it out. That had been your shirt, you realized as you narrowed your eyes. You'd gotten it from summer camp, one that Regina hadn't been able to come with you to. After you came back she'd confiscated all the stuff you'd gotten there. Tee shirts, crafts projects, a whittled duck, braided cord. You'd always assumed she had thrown it all in the trash. On her wrist was a braided leather cord and a wood bead friendship bracelet. She had on Lee jeans that hugged her hips and thighs exquisitely. Those had been her mom's.

In her hands was the photo album. Everybody could read the front, Reggie & Jorts.

"Notice me... Take my hand..." She crooned into the mic as the soft melody of Briney Spears' Everytime began to play.

"Why are we strangers when our love is strong? Why carry on without me?"

You felt like you couldn't breathe.

"And every time I try to fly I fall without my wings," Her eyes scanned the crowd. You wondered if she was looking for you. "I feel so small, I guess I need you, baby,"

She found you. Your eyes met, hers clear and blue and somehow so sad, even as she glittered up on stage. Even with everybody's eyes on her, she was looking at you.

"And every time I see you in my dreams, I see your face," She sang so prettily, every note like a gentle caress, a soothing balm to your ears. You did so love to hear her sing.

"It's haunting me. I guess I need you, baby," Her eyes closed, like she couldn't focus on two things at once; looking at you and singing. She swayed gently with the rhythm, feeling the soft instrumental in her feet. Sneakers. Simple, white sneakers.

Her eyes opened again with the next lyrics. You tried not to overthink it, tried not to imagine things that weren't there, but maybe there was a glassiness to her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"I make-believe, that you are here. It's the only way that I see clear. What have I done? You seem to move on easy."

You swallowed, eyes closing. You weren't sure what to think. Was this her way of apologizing? Was she trying to make up for what'd been said? Hadn't she just earlier today made your life living hell?

You leaned your elbows onto your knees and cradled your face in your hands. What were you supposed to do now? She was singing to you. This was the ultimate show of sincerity, of vulnerability, but what were you meant to do with it all in your hands? Your chest tightened and your breaths shortened.

The song continued, you knew the lyrics by heart, but only once she sang the next part did you open your eyes again.

"I may have made it rain, please forgive me. My weakness caused you pain, and this song's my sorry,"

You understood. Cowardly as it may have been, Regina was apologizing to you. Though the references were obscure enough that most, if not all, people would not know who she was singing to, it was quite clear this was a song for somebody.

You rubbed at your throat. It felt constricted, like something was tightening around it.

You couldn't shake the feeling that it was too late. As much as you would've liked to weep in gratitude, be swept in the relief that she was taking you back, irreversible things had happened. None of this made sense. If she hadn't pulled the stunt today then who had? Had she told somebody? Had Janis told?

Regardless, you were an outcast. If not, then ridiculed. You were scared. You had become a target. You didn't think anybody at Northshore was capable of the atrocities you saw reported on the news, but nobody who'd become a victim did until it was too late.

As it was, it didn't matter whether or not you forgave Regina. It didn't matter if she forgave you.

"I guess I need you, baby," As the last line of the song carried throughout the gymnasium, and after the split second of stunned silence before people began cheering and clapping, you got up and left.

You'd smoke a cigarette and get out of here once and for all. Then, you'd drive home and call dad. You'd tell him everything, tell him you needed to switch schools and that you were gay and that you'd made a real mess of things.

You'd take what was given, reap what'd been sown, and forget all about this goddamned town.

Forget all about Regina George.

Notes: Took a bit longer with this one. Sorry for the suspense! Here, have some more unresolved stuff! Also, I fucking love that song by Britney Spears. I've known Regina was gonna sing it for J since pretty much the beginning and finally, she did.

Taglist will be posted separately. If you want to be added to the list, please comment on that post! Thank you!

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #lesbian regina george #wlw #fic: yard work

[luvfy0dor]

“Please Don't Cry ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; crying, Nikolais kinda an asshole

Description; The BSD men seeing you cry, whether it's their fault or not

A/n; hi guys :333 one more request until they're all finished!! It only took me 6 months to do what, 11? 12? I don't know, I'm really slow when it comes to reqs, so I'm sorry it took so long!! I've also decided not to change to a gray theme cuz I don't wanna feel like I'm copying anyone, maybe one day though!!

Osamu Dazai ★

• It's probably his fault in most cases, but for this scenario we'll assume it isn't. Your day has just progressively gotten worse, and you were at the point where any minor inconvenience or annoyance would set you off and make you cry.

ೃ⁀➷

You pushed open the door to your apartment that you shared with your boyfriend, bags in your hands ready to rip from the weight of the groceries inside. You huff and kick the door shut behind you, annoyed when it doesn't fully close and requires you to kick it one more time. You carry the bags to the kitchen counter and set them down rather aggressively, not minding the strength you put into roughly placing them on the surface while you turn to put them away and wait for your boyfriend to arrive home from work for once. You sigh with a hand on your hip and the other on your forehead, opening the fridge and observing your current minimal amount of food and get to stocking up. A few things make it into the fridge before you hear the door open again and your boyfriend call out to you. "Y/n? Home?" A hum erupts from your throat in response and he quickly makes his way to you, following the sound of your voice. "Hey, babe, how was your day?" He asks, grabbing a head of lettuce to hand to you. "Terrible, 'Samu, nothing tragic happened but like, all the little things, you know?" You say, shoving the head of lettuce into one of the bottom drawers of the refrigerator. He reaches over to grab the milk, but realized that the half-gallon wasn't completely full, and upon further investigation (lifting the jug up), he realized that the plastic had broken and milk was spilling out into the plastic bags, onto the counter, and down onto the floor.

"Oh, the milk broke." He says, taking a large, exaggerated step past you and over the milk to bring the half-gallon to the sink. You straighten your posture and stand up straight, head swiveling towards the counter with whiplash inducing speed. You felt your throat close up, making you unable to say anything in response. Before you knew it, your shoulders started shaking and your tears quickly followed that motion. You whimpered quietly into the palms of your hands which attracted Dazais attention again over the milk. "Aw, don't cry over spilled milk now!" He jokes, but when you give him an agitated glare and open your mouth to defend yourself, he switches up and pulls you in for a hug. "No, I was just joking, but it's okay! There's nothing to cry about, we can get more milk. Do you have any idea how it coulda happened?" He asks you, stroking your back. "M-might've put the bag down to roughly.." you say, sniffling and wiping your tears from your face. He gives a pitiful frown and kisses your cheek quickly.

"Well that just means you're too strong for your own good! Oo, see I knew there was a reason why I had to clarify I was joking, you could've broken my neck if I didn't." He playfully says, trying to cheer your up a little bit. You let out a shaky sigh and nod. "Yeah...I guess. We can go without milk for tonight, I'll get some more for tomorrow." You grab some paper towels from the roll on the counter and start cleaning up all the milk. He nods in agreement and pulls you into his body, pressing a kiss to your forehead and squeezing your shoulder. "Yeah, we'll live. We should get take out for dinner, I don't think either of us are really in the mood to cook." A little bit of weight is lifted off your shoulders, one less responsibility for tonight. "Okay, Chinese?" he nods and smiles. "Yeah. I'll call right now, you want your usual, right?" He asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You hum against his chest, ready to knock out and take a nap. His words blurred together as you felt yourself slipping into sleep, but with that you also felt great amounts of gratitude for your boyfriend for making you feel just a little better. Or maybe you just needed to cry a little, who knows.

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Chuuya is no stranger to annoying co-workers and tiring missions, often wearing him down through the day, but sometimes he's unintentionally snappy. Don't worry, he's always quick to make it up to you.

ೃ⁀➷

Throughout the day, the texts between yourself and Chuuya had indicated that Chuuya was having a rather troublesome day, especially because of the frequent complaints followed by the facepalm emoji. You decided that you'd kick back with Chuuya and relax, opening a new bottle of one of his favorite wines and maybe giving him a back massage or something to relieve his stress. You eagerly awaited that familiar sound of his key in the door, and when you finally heard it, you stood up from your seat. In walked Chuuya, his appearance a little roughed up. He hung up his coat and hat without a word or glance to you, walking right passed you into the kitchen. 'That was kinda rude.' You thought to yourself, but you knew Chuuyas job was stressful and sometimes overwhelming, so you let him walk off on his own for a while. You knew where he was going and it didn't concern you, just to the balcony for a cigarette. You crossed your arms over you chest, hoping that he'd come back in a bit of a better mood. You turned on the TV and occupied yourself with that for a little bit before his familiar, light footsteps were heard coming back into the house. "Chuuya?" You called out to him. You could hear his loud sigh. "Yes?" His tone of voice was clearly agitated and disgruntled.

You were taken aback by how clear it was that he didn't want to talk to you right now, and you knew it wasn't personal, but you couldn't help but be saddened over it. "Are you alright-" you go to ask, but he quickly cuts you off. "Yes, I'm fine, y/n, just leave me alone. God..." His words were followed by the bedroom door closing. You were stunned. Your mouth hung agape for a moment before you had to close it to swallow the shock that closed your throat up. After prying your eyes away from the closed door, you averted your gaze to your feet, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You felt bad for crying, but what could you do? All you wanted was to make him feel a little better and he wouldn't even give you the chance to. He chose to take some alone time instead, which you didn't mind, but he didn't have to be so mean about it. You went into your hands, some of the tears falling through the cracks in your fingers and silently onto the floor. Your sobs became louder and audible to Chuuya, who laid face first on the bed. He felt a bit guilty too, he never once asked how your day was and for all he knew, your day could have been just as bad as his. He knew you only had good intentions, and he didn't need to shove you off like that.

He sighed and got out of bed, opening the door gently instead of swinging it open and walked into the living room again, frowning at the sight of you. "I'm sorry, doll, y'know I didn't mean it..." He whispered quietly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look into his eyes, seeing the apologetic expression that painted his face. "Yeah, I know, but you didn't have to be so mean about it." He sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Yeah, I know, that was a dumb move. I just wanted some alone time, ill be better about it next time though, I promise." He says, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. "Wanna tell me 'bout your day?" He asks, looking over at you. "Thank you. It wasn't terrible, just bland and regular." You tell him, erupting a hum of understanding from him. "I can only assume you already know I had a rough day." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm real sorry though." The smile from his laugh turns into a more neutral one, almost a faint frown. "It's fine, just don't let it happen again, I don't like it when you're annoying like that." You punch his shoulder playfully. He groans in response, laughing as he stands up. "I won't, promise." He says, tilting your head backwards to kiss your lips. "I do still want that alone time, though, so I'll see you in a little bit, alright?" You nod in understanding. "Alright." He walked back into the room, giving himself some time to do nothing more than exist. He didn't sleep and he didn't think, just existed. You stayed on the couch, waiting for him to return with open arms, happy to see him giving himself personal time instead of forcing himself to be around people, even if it was yourself. Everyone needs a break sometimes, and Chuuya was grateful that you understood.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor came home to you, and that was enough to make you sob your eyes out. Happy tears, ofcourse, but your days had been riddled with anxiety since he left. He knew you'd feel that way, and he was fully prepared to open his arms to you again with that faint smile.

ೃ⁀➷

You watched the helicopter land on the helipad with your heart pounding in your throat. Your fingers fiddled with the collar and fabric of your shirt as you waited for the propellers to come to a full halt and your lover to step off. Leaves, gravel, and dust alike all blew around your feet as the blades finally slowed and your boyfriend came into view. Your body tensed and almost started moving towards him on its own, but your anxiety stopped it, keeping you in your place. Your eyes scanned over his intact body and granted you a sense of relief when you saw no visible large injuries. He took notice of you and gave a small wave, walking towards you with a steady pace. You couldn't stop it anymore and all of a sudden you were moving towards him at an increasing speed. Before you knew it, your arms were once in their familiar spot around his torso and he was quietly chuckling. He ran one hand up and down your back and kissed your forehead. "Someone's excited." You nodded, feeling your tears falling down your face. It wasn't until he got a better look at your face that he noticed you were crying, and his smile widened. "You missed me that much, Myshka?" He says, tilting your head upwards to look at him.

"Obviously! You knew I would." You huff, sniffling and wiping your tears off of your cheeks, but they just kept on flowing. He laughs at you and pulls you back into the hug. "Well i'm home now, and you don't have to worry about me anymore. For now, atleast." Now he's already got you stressing over his next leave, but luckily you're able to push it away from your head in the moment and be grateful to breathe in his familiar scent again. You felt him place a hand on your head and exhale, his heartbeat being your favorite sound next to his voice. The feeling of his hands on your body was easily #1 in the category of touch, and his appearance was, to you, the very best sight. And his kisses, his lips, were by far the best taste. It had been so long until you felt his lips on yours, so you went for it again, cupping his face with your right hand and pulling him into you. He hummed and kissed you back, rubbing your hip with his thumb. When you pulled away, his face was pinker than before and his breathing unsteady. He swallowed before speaking. "Everytime I come back to you it's like adding gasoline to the bonfire that is my love for you." He says, looking into your eyes.

You couldn't help but find his words as silly as they were romantic and pulled him in for another brief peck. "You talk so formally all the time, it makes me giggle." You tell him, caressing his pale pink lips with your thumb. "It's better than the things I say that make you cry, yes?" He had a point. "Very true." He grabbed your hand and held it in his own while leading you away from the helicopter and to your car, more than ready to go home. "Your face is still wet from your tears." He whispers, wiping the remaining dampness from your cheeks with a smile. "Much better." You blushed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm glad you're finally back to wipe my tears for me." You tease. "Was a workout doing it all by my lonesome." He laughs at your remark and 'tsks'. "Well then maybe you should get more active or stop crying so much." He replies, a smug grin on his face. "Says you, the only arm movement I ever see you getting in is moving the mouse of a keyboard around." He shakes his head. "That's very untrue, you see me using my arms for other things rather frequently, actually." He insists. The sun shone down on his raven hair and gave him a halo-like highlight. How unfitting to the rest of the world, but sensible to you. "Fine, I guess so." You leaned your head on his shoulder as you continued to walk, finally liberated from the depression and anxiety that overcame you when he had left all that time ago.

Nikolai Gogol ★

• Nikolai doesn't mean to hurt your feelings with his teasing and jokes, but when you trip and fall face first into the pavement in front of a bunch of people and all he does is laugh with them, you can't help but cry out of embarrassment.

ೃ⁀➷

You walked along a sidewalk with your boyfriend, one hand holding his and the other holding a coffee. Your conversation was filled with mindless chatter as your stride stayed at a steady speed. Your eyes were flickering between him and the pavement in front of you as you were careful to watch where you were going. You saw the feet of many people walking passed you both, avoiding the states they were bound to give you and your clownish boyfriend. Something astonishing must have come out of Nikolais mouth at a point though, because you've never turned your head so fast to look at him and stare for long enough to not notice the tree roots that poked out of the ground far enough to trip you and land you right on your face with both coffee and dirt all over your shirt. All falls silent for a moment before you start hearing snickers and then the outrageously loud cackle of your boyfriend.

You pushed your body up off the ground, clearly embarrassed over the whole thing and shot a glare at Nikolai. "Really? You're just gonna stand there and laugh?" Your cheeks were hot and your heart heavy with both annoyance and fluster. "I'm sorry, dove, it was just so funny! That stains gonna take awhile to come out, though." He says, pointing out the big splatter of coffee on your light colored top. You can't help but scoff. "It was so funny that you couldn't even help me up?" He nods, exhaling audibly and wiping a tear of amusement from his eye. "But ofcourse! If I wasn't paralyzed by my laughter than I would have been the first to help you." He started walking back home along the paved path with you, going to grab your hand but furrowing his eyebrows when you snatch it away. He looks up to your face with an exasperated frown. "Oh, don't tell me that made you cry." You just sniffle and huff, letting your tears drip from your waterline. "Come on, don't be such a baby. It's just a material item, I can always get you a new one." He says, referring to the shirt. Your expression is one of confusion before you snap out of it and correct him. "It's not that, it's the fact that you just let me trip, fall, and spill coffee all over myself and let everyone laugh at me! You even laughed with them! That's so rude." You say, trying to cover the stain to no avail.

He blinks. "Oh. Well, I told you I would have if I wasn't laughing- I thought we were like that, we laugh when the other falls, you know?" He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, yeah, but not in front of other people." You say, chewing on the inside of your lip. "That was....oh my god, I'll never erase that from my memory." You say, still completely overtaken by embarrassment. He bites his cheek and grabs your hand before reaching over to wipe your tears from your cheeks. "I'm sorry." He tells you, leaning his head on yours. "It wasn't ever with ill intention, darling. We'll go home and I'll get you changed out of that ruined shirt and whatever it takes to make you smile again." He says, smiling and opening his portal to whisk the two of you away. Soon enough you were standing back in your living room with a new shirt already in hand. "See how quick that was? Can I take this off for you?" He asks, tugging at the hem of your ruined shirt. You sigh and speak. "I can take it off on my own, thank you very much." You roll your eyes and pull it off, but it's quickly replaced with the new one. He laughs for a moment at your discombobulated expression, but the noise quickly quiets. "I really am sorry, sweetcheeks." He says, leaning in to rub your noses together. You peck his lips and brush his hair from his face. "It's fine, but don't be doing nothin' like that again. That was so embarrassing." You say, averting your eyes. He hums. "Alright, as long as my dove forgives me!" He smiles and pulls you into a hug, happy with your decision to forgive him.

A/n; dawg I'm writing this in the tj Maxx bro forgive me if it sucks lol

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor #bungou stray dogs nikolai #nikolai fluff #gogol nikolai #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol #nikolai bsd #bsd dazai osamu #dazai bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #daxai x reader #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara

[sunkissed-zegras]

Hihii I absolutely love the manager series and I was wondering if you could do something where manager has a bad day and the team cheers them up?

You don't have to but it's just a thought

─ UCONN WBB MANAGER

౨ৎ ─ summary | manager has been stressed out so paige and kk cheer her up!

─ word count | 665 (im sorry it's so short)

─ warnings | stressing out, paige and kk being absolute menaces, uhhh mention of bigbacks..............

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

YOU SAT ON the bed, flat on your stomach as you scroll on TikTok. The entire team was out and you finally had some time for yourself.

You usually enjoyed away-games ─ the bus rides, the free food (most of the time), the hotels. However, this time it felt more stressful than usual. As you mindlessly scrolled through TikTok, the events of the past few days replayed in your mind. The pressure of the upcoming game, coupled with the tensions within the team, weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You sighed, setting your phone aside for a moment as you put your face into the sheets. The weight of responsibility as the team's manager felt heavier than usual today. You wanted nothing more than to see the team succeed, but lately, it felt like every obstacle was stacked against you.

The pressure was on, and you felt it weighing heavily on your shoulders. The team looked to you for guidance and support, and while you did your best to provide it, there were moments when doubt crept in. Had you made the right calls? Could you have done more to prepare them?

You were too keep in thought to hear the hotel room door until you heard KK's voice. "Gyatt,"

"Oh my gosh, shut the fuck up." Paige laughed as she rolled her eyes at KK's immature comment.

You turned around to face them, then sigh heavily and turn back to your phone on the bed. Nika came in a few moments later, exhaustion evident in her expression as she took a seat next to you on the bed.

You glanced up briefly as Nika joined you on the bed, offering her a small smile before returning your attention to your phone. Despite the presence of your teammates, you couldn't shake off the weight of your thoughts and the heaviness in your mood was noticeable.

Paige's and KK's laughter seemed distant as you continued to scroll through TikTok, the videos failing to lift your mood. Nika's arrival only added to the heavy atmosphere, her tired demeanor mirroring your own.

"Y/N, you good?" Nika asked as she glanced down at you, her glasses on the bridge of her nose slightly sliding down.

You nodded thankfully, a small smile on your face. "Yeah, just tired."

Nika nodded with understanding as she turned her attention back to her phone, the two of you tuning out Paige and KK. Your stressed-out mood didn't go unnoticed by the duo as they exchanged glances.

"Are you hungry?" Paige speaks as she glances at you. You look up at her with a confused expression, turning around so that you were sitting on your back. Before you could protest, Paige continued. "You look hungry. Wanna go get food?"

"Like what?" You mumbled as you looked back at Paige.

Paige scoffed as she glared at you. "Doesn't matter, just get up and let's go get food."

"I'm not in the mood, Paige." You gave her a stern look before picking your phone back up.

Paige was not having it though, she grabbed your arm and forcefully got you up causing KK to burst out laughing at her attempt. "Jeez, you're strong." You just kept glaring kept glaring at her.

"I'll even pay bro, just get up." Paige persisted, her tone firm yet laced with concern.

Reluctantly, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of Paige's grip on your arm. "Fine, fine," you relented, giving her a small nod.

Paige and KK gave her each other a smile as you grabbed your bag, waving Nika goodbye as you left the room.

"So you're paying for me too, right Paige?" KK asked with a smile as Paige glared at her, causing you to laugh. KK then shot you a glare, "Why are you laughing, big-back?"

"Big-back?!" You repeated in disbelief as Paige bursted out laughing, KK joining in a moment later. "I hate you guys."

"Do you really?" KK asked with a grin on her face.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#uconn wbb manager ★ #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #kk arnold #ncaaw #ncaa women’s basketball

[samstatsupremacy]

My notes from the 92NY Q&A

Someone from Mayfair Witches is in IWTV S2 and Mayfair S2

Ben Daniels sent a thank-you letter to Rollin Jones re: working with such a beautiful cast and lovely project (and called himself Santi-baby in it). Jacob did his best Ben impression and read the email aloud to us.

The two actors Rolin KNEW they wanted from the beginning were Eric and Ben Daniels, before they even started casting

Jacob refused to pit Loumand and Loustat against each other. Said they have different vibes

Sam insists that we won't see "the real Lestat" until S3. We're only seeing everyone else's perception of him (very tongue-in-cheek). In response, Assad said, "Armand has a very good memory. Maybe the most accurate!"

Jacob said filming the Dreamstat scenes with Sam was like slipping on a glove, or an old sock (cue slightly inappropriate giggles from audience)

Delainey said her chemistry read with Jacob felt like everyone else in the room just faded away, and she bonded with him first on set

Lestat plays Harlequin instead of Lelio this season, and the moderator was so affected by Sam's performance that he said "I got pregnant after watching it." Rollin said it was "moves like Jagger" on that theater stage lol. Sam had trouble reconciling this part but he did have fun

Any time Jacob gets complimented, he tries to brush it off. He's so humble!

Delainey said Claudia knows Louis better than he knows himself, and Jacob* thinks he knows her but he doesn't

Eric said that Daniel's impression of Dubai situation is he's just sick of the lies and games from Loumand. He won't be intimidated, and if you push, he pushes back harder. He will not be bullied (much like himself, he added)

Lots of hype for ep5 of this season. Eric said it was the most traumatizing episode he's seen in his life. Everyone else agrees that it gets pretty heavy re: young Daniel's interview

Eric said "working with Jacob is like flying" and Jacob said "the feeling is entirely mutual" - so sweet!

Assad was so preciously nervous bc he admittedly still gets intimidated by the cast. He was struggling to finish his thoughts. He did praise how open and loving the whole cast and crew are. It was cute.

"When Louis meets Armand, Armand is kind of lost but putting on this facade of power that Louis sees through" (Assad's words)

Question: any fun moments off set that still make you laugh? Response: Sam and Jacob look at each other and just burst into laughter. They really struggled to find an answer that they felt was appropriate to share and barely answered it 😅

Q: What series would your character binge?

Everyone answered as their character:

Armand: Buffy

Daniel: Breaking Bad

Claudia: The OA

Lestat: The Real Housewives

Louis: The Real Housewives ("YOU LITERALLY TOOK MY ANSWER" to Sam)

This doesn't even cover the encounters I saw at the stage door. I'll do a separate post for that, maybe

#iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #vampterview #I'M ON CLOUD NINE #just looking at my selfie with Jacob and giggling #iwtv spoilers #totally forgot to add that tag last night..... or to put this all under a read more i was just too excited to share!!

[bi-writes]

more little thoughts about curvy!sunshine!fem!reader and dark!simon (18+)

thinking about being so indifferent to his violence because it has never been directed at you. you had a bad night at the pub--an asshole tried to grab your dress in the brand new white dress you bought, with a puffy little mini skirt, and you had wanted to wear it out and get dressed up. the man had ruined your night; you just wanted to spend it with simon, drinking and spending time together, and as soon as he had his hand up your dress, and simon saw the tears in your eyes, all he could see was red.

you're sitting on the curb outside, sniffling, tears still a little damp on your face as you lick at the cone of ice cream you're holding. you click your heels against the pavement, and you look to the side when you feel a big, warm presence take a seat next to you. his shirt looks damp and sticky, and your eyes dart down to see how his boots smear blood against the ground. you smile a little through your soft tears, reaching over and sliding your arm around his. the tension in his muscles relaxes, and you lean up and kiss his cheek gently.

"did he squirm?" you ask softly as you trace his ungloved hand, running your fingers lightly over the fresh bruises there. "i know you hate it when they cry."

"didn't 'ave time t'cry," he grumbles. he leans over, kissing your forehead through the mask, holding you close. "cut his throat out before he could even think about it. and then i took his hands, luv--" you take a lick of your ice cream before you smile up at him. "didn't deserve 'em since he's had a feel 'f ya."

he lets you paint his nails. you sit on his big thigh, holding his hand up as you smooth black polish over his nail bed. you clean his cuticles and under his fingernails, giving him a nice little manicure before practicing your nail-painting skills. all he does is sit there and grumble as he watches a football game on the telly, not really paying you any mind. when you finish, you smooth lotion over his cracked knuckles and smooth some oil over his nails until they're nice and soft. when you finish, he makes you watch him stuff those fingers into your pretty pussy. he never takes his eyes off the game, but his lips twitch into the lightest smirk as he feels you writhe and squirm beside him, laid back on the couch as you wet his freshly painted nails with cum.

he never lets you cry, not really, because he fucking hates it. if you cry, he tilts your head up towards him, shoving his mask up before dragging his pink tongue up your face and ridding the pretty planes of your cheeks of any evidence. his solution to your sadness, if that doesn't work, is to put his head between your thighs and eat.

he never says no to you. wherever you want to go, he will take you. whatever you want to buy, he will buy it for you. even if it's something you technically can't have, like the vintage purse you see as you window shop with a not for sale tag on it. or the last pair of sparkly barrettes that the woman in front of you snagged first, found at the bottom of your shopping bag the next day. or the job you applied for that you knew you wouldn't get because you bombed the interview--only to receive confirmation in the middle of the night that you got the job, telling simon monday night that your new boss got mugged only a few hours after your interview!

(the bruises on his face are gnarly--and he seems to always avoid you like the plague.)

you break all his supposed boundaries in front of other people, but what they don't understand is that he has boundaries with everyone except for you. when you visit him on base, everyone tenses when you run into the rec room looking for him, slipping into the chair he sits in and taking your place on his lap. but ghost doesn't flinch as he does if others touch him. no, he just places his hand on your back to steady you. when you're out at the pub with his teammates, they stare wide-eyed as you cup his masked cheeks and kiss him all over his face--his eyes, his nose, his cheeks--but all ghost does is pat your ass soothingly and stroke along your hair gently. he stands out in crowds, so imposing and large and broad, and he ignores the stares when a pretty girl bounces into his orbit, taking his hand and pulling him along because simon, i saw this dress, but i need your help getting the zipper up--

there just isn't anyone like you. ghost feels dead, on the inside. he doesn't feel right. he knows something is so wrong inside of him. he wants to eat your glow. it's what he has loved about you since he met you. the unconditional devotion, the big heart you give him, the wet look in your eyes when he does anything for you, even when it includes the bloody stuff. even if he does the wrong thing, even if he kills the wrong man, and you know he is overreacting, you are never mad, never angry. you just kiss his scars and coo in his ear, "it's okay, you didn't know any better, you were just doing it for me, weren't you, baby?"

you give him the validation that he needs to be violent. you tell him it's okay. you aren't afraid of all the gore, of the terrible things he does, of all the things he rights with wrongs. he is quick to anger, and he finds it easy to be judge, jury, and executioner, and all you do is bat your lashes and open your legs and tell him it's okay, simon--it's okay, come here, i miss you.

you suffocate the things that scream in his ears. when it's too loud, you push him to lay down, climb up over him, put your thighs around his head and quiet the noise. you sit your pretty pussy on his mouth, and you ride his face, smoothing a hand over the balaclava that he is too busy to take off. you used to be afraid of being too heavy, of making it hard to breathe for him, but simon is a big boy, and maybe he wants to die, because you taste so sweet, and he always chubs up so easily with his hands digging into your hips and his tongue deep inside of you.

it aches, everything hurts, the world is too loud, but it isn't like this in your flat. it's just right. it's normal. it's safe. simon can be himself, and so can you, and when he is too brooding and terrifying, he looks at you, because if you're still smiling, he isn't too much of anything. and when you think you're talking too fast, when you are second-guessing the dress you want to wear, you look at him, because if he is there, nothing will ever be wrong, and no one can ever hurt you.

simon isn't a good person. you know that. he's quick to the knife. he likes to bite. he commits war crimes, and then he comes home, and no one asks him to explain himself, and no one tells him to stop what he's doing, and when he does it over and over again, all he gets is validation, medals for a job well done, and maybe you're an instigator, too, because you let him fuck you in every position whenever he comes home, a reward for bringing death to whoever was stupid enough to end up at the wrong end of his rifle.

but it's really, really hard to care. as soon as he steps through the door, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor, all of your doubts disappear. all you can do is stare at him in all his gear, swallow the drool that threatens to spill, smile--welcome home, teddy bear!

he is a bear. but you've never been on the receiving end of what scares people. if someone were to ask you what to do, you don't think you'd know what to tell them. you wonder what it is you would tell them if they begged for your help.

run away? or play dead?

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!simon #simon thoughts #sunshine!reader

[kika-writes]

protecting you - l.n

Warnings: dark themes, possessiveness, innocent reader, 18+, smut, no protection, praise kink, size kink, manipulation.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando claims to ‘protect’ Y/N from others.

Lando was very protective of you, to the extent there he’d go out of his way to make sure anyone who tried to come near you, with bad intentions or not, never did so again. You were oblivious to it, just thinking boys didn’t show an interest in you. Lando only punched four out of the nine of them.

“Spin the bottle mixed with truth or dare?” Max suggested, finding one of the empty beer bottles. “Why not?” Ria said, joining the circle along with you, Lando, Max and Pietra. “Max, truth or dare?” you giggled, your spin landing on Max. Lando, your best friend, was sat next to you, wearing a simple back leather jacket and joggers. “Truth,” he answered as you thought. “Would you cheat on P with Lando?” you stifled a laugh as P giggled. “Piss off,” he grabbed the bottle, spinning it. “Y/N,” he smirked as you groaned, “truth or dare,”. Truth wouldn’t hurt. “Truth,” you answered. 

“Is it true you’re a virgin?” he chuckled as you flushed. “Uh, yeah,” you answered, he probably expected that you weren’t. “What?” P asked, eyes wide. “I’m a virgin,” you repeated. “Doesn’t matter,” Lando frowned, “games over,”. Max, P and Ria went off to watch a movie and get drunk, Lando grabbing your arm. “Virgin, hm?” he asked, making you roll your eyes and blush. “Yeah,” you shrugged, it wasn’t that big of a deal. “I don’t want anyone to be your first,” he said, vice changing as he put his glass down, as he stepped forward, the back of your knees hitting the bed behind you. 

“Lando someone has to be my first,” you said, eyes locking on his. “I don’t trust anyone,” he groaned, hands on your waist as he sat you down. “D’you trust me?” he asked, pushing you onto your back softly. “Y-yes,” you stuttered. “I’m gonna fuck you, Y/N,” he said, as your jaw dropped. “Lando, I-,” you attempted to sit up before your shrieked, not expecting the force of his push to have you on your back. “I’m not doing this for myself,” he said, sounding reluctant almost. “I don’t want anyone else to do it,” he said, his hand tangling in your hair as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

He’d been your first kiss too, actually. You didn’t say anything as you lifted your skirt, unbuckling his trousers. ‘I’m not doing this for myself,” he repeated, his grip on your neck was next to suffocating. You whined slightly as he ran his tip over your clit, pressing into your entrance. “This is for you, alright?” he said, pushing into you. Fuck, he’s been wanting to fuck you for ages, he just needed the opportunity. Did he necessarily care if you wanted to? No, not really. “Say it, Y/N,” he repeated, narrowing his eyed as he rocked into you, loosening his grip to let you speak. “This is for me,” he loved that you believed it was as well. 

A little innocent thing, unaware to his manipulation. And you thought it was all for him. You didn’t know about how he’d followed you home multiple times and threatened guys who took you back. You knew nothing. Just how he liked it. Your soft whines rumbled into his shoulder as your nails dug into Lando’s bicep. “Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, quickening his pace as you gasped. “Its for you,” he said again, bringing his lips to yours as you felt the knot in your stomach. He pulled out, spilling onto your stomach as your lower lip trembled. 

Pressing a final kiss to your forehead, he pressed the towel beside him to your stomach, clearing the cum from your body. You mumbled incoherently at the contact as looked at you. Without a word, he left, leaving you alone on the bed, skirt ridden up, stomach hare and chest heaving with heavy breaths. It was for you. He did it for you. Why else would he do such a thing?

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #f1