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constantly can't do shit because i am unmedicated + overwhelmed to the point of severe executive dysfunction
#always always always it's at the worst possible time#i've been fighting it so hard but it's definitely winning and i am about to just fucking give up#shit is unbearable i can't believe that a few company execs effectively decide whether or not i get to function how i should#for however long they please#( aka worldwide adderall shortage is ruining my entire god damn life and there is no end in sight )#i hate being alive#if you don't have adhd on top of severe mental illness it's so hard to explain#i repeatedly run into a barrier and slam my head into it over and over again#until the barrier cracks and breaks#but the break is tiny + uneven and i can only get my arm through instead of my whole body#something something. i don't know#🦷
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Sharing an air bnb with Nikto during mandatory leave because you trust each other. Finally getting to see his face, cuddling in a big jacuzzi tub.
Gaining Nikto's trust wasn't easy. The behemoth of a man had a fragmented mind, too broken from Zakhaev's torture, and yet the utmost effort you put into getting to know him proved fruitful after months.
“Jesus fuck. Put that thing away, Misha.” Your attempts at shielding your eyes are met with a laugh, feeling the water shift around your body, a mass of pure warm muscle pressing on your side.
“... Is it hidden now?” His eyes crinkle, the smile of pure amusement hidden beneath his mask. Nikto doesn’t feel uncomfortable with nudity, and while joining you in the jacuzzi only happened because of the vodka warming his stomach up and giving him liquid courage, he was enjoying your reaction.
“Да. You can look now.” Your fingers part in front of your eyes, glancing up at him before looking down, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you realize the bubbles are covering his lower body.
“I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by… cock.” Despite the initial surprise, there’s nothing but pure mirth dancing with your words. You feel his arm drape over your shoulder, pulling you closer, the smell of hard liquor hitting your nose, explaining why he’s being touchier than usual.
“You’re welcome.” Despite how unpleasant and rowdy Nikto can be, your company served as a soothing balm, a small break from all the chaos going on in his head. There’s hesitation in his actions as he reaches towards the straps of his mask, his fingers stilling for a few seconds, your curious eyes looking up at him with an innocence that he finds endearing.
“I take it off sometimes.” Not exactly a lie, yet not exactly the trust either— Nikto does remove his mask, though never in the presence of anyone else. The fear of getting judged for his face scars will always be there, and it took him months to gather the courage to even think about showing it to you.
The straps of his mask are removed with little to no effort, yet he doesn’t fully remove the mask yet. You can see the fear and doubt dancing within his light blue eyes as he holds the rough material, the only barrier between both of you. “I’m not going to judge, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your reassurance is accompanied by your hand running up and down his back, gentle caresses that he never allowed himself to receive from anyone, until you came along. It seemed to be the only confirmation he needed, as the mask slips off, placed on a table nearby before he finally turns to look at you.
You admire his features for the first time, your eyes running all over his face for a few seconds. Nikto has a slightly crooked nose —likely from being broken one too many times—, the skin on his face more pale than the rest of his body, and the scars lingering all over his face. They look like chemical burns, running from his chin, up to his forehead, his skin tainted in a light red color.
“You look pretty.” Pretty. The word almost makes him scoff, his gaze drifting around the jacuzzi before looking back at you, pure vulnerability in his expression.
“I’m serious.” You insist, leaning closer to him before your wet hand reaches up, cupping his cheek. The suddenness of your actions is almost enough to make him flinch, and yet he decides to stay still, a part of him craving the praise after so many years of being lonely, of being broken.
Your thumb runs along his skin, being extra careful with his scars, even if they no longer hurt physically. The reverence in your eyes mirrors his, nothing but pure trust and worship displayed in your actions. Your soft finger runs across his cracked bottom lip, taking your time to continue admiring his features before he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours.
#Nikto is referred to as Misha#cod mwii#cod mw2#mwii nikto#cod nikto#nikto#nikto x reader#nikto cod#modern warfare 2#cod mw#mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty nikto#Nikto x fem!reader#cod mw2 x reader#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty x reader#nikto x female!reader#nikto x you#nikto call of duty#mw3 nikto#mw2 nikto#: ̗̀➛ Alina writes
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"Oops" | Eddie Munson
pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem Reader
summary: Part 2--Reader now confronts Eddie about his text last week. Feelings are spilled and sheets are ruined.
warnings: oral (f. receiving), praise kink, pet names (good girl, baby, sweetheart, sweets, honey), dom!eddie, fingering, cunnilingus, degradation (brat, slut, whore, cockslut), squirting, aftercare
word count: 3.8k
a/n: This is part 2 to "Oops", which we now get into the real reason you all are here.
Part 1
*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******
He had to lie about talking to Callie from chem but it was better than the truth. He knew then that you didn’t feel the same way as him, and it hurt him. He meant to delete the photo after you ended the call but his mind was too clouded so he took a walk and forgot about it later on. If only he knew what you did that night looking at said photo.
“The truth?” Eddie didn’t know why there was this sudden burst of courage rushing through him, maybe it was the beers, or the weed or maybe it was just the fact that he needed to tell you how he felt, no matter what your answer was.
You nod your head at his question, turning to get a good look at him. His eyes were shut as he leaned against the wall, his neck stretched enough to show his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly.
“Yes.” You’re confused for a second, yes he didn’t know or yes he did know? “I knew it was you, I mean.”
Oh. Oh, OH! Your brain scrambles thinking back to the picture and the text, ‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you’. That’s what the text said, so did that mean it was you he was jerking off to?
“So the text…”
“Was about you. Yeah.” His shoulders rise a little before falling, like a weight had literally been lifted off his shoulders. His eyes are still closed, scared that if he opens them he’ll be met with a grin on your face before you laugh at him.
“Eddie,” You say softly, moving to sit up on your knees. He doesn’t open his eyes or move his head, “Eds. Look at me.”
You scooch forward, sitting next to him, your thigh touching his own. His eyes crack open at the touch, his gaze locked at the ceiling still.
You reach your hand up and cup his cheek, guiding his face to look at yours. His eyes are glossy, like he’s trying not to cry. You give him a soft smile, your own eyes begin to well up with tears.
“I need you to listen to me, got it?” You wait for him to nod before continuing, “I love you Eddie. Both as a friend and more. I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you sent that photo, that wonderful, hot, sexy photo,” He tries to move his head away but you pull it back to you, “That photo that I ended up looking at as I made myself cum that night.” That caught his attention. He opened his mouth to say something but you were quick to stop him, resuming your speech.
“Eddie, why didn’t you just tell me you liked me? I wouldn't laugh at you or anything, if anything I’d probably realize I did too. I just don’t understand why you had to do that to tell me. Not that I didn’t love it, I did. Just, I need you to say it.”
He looks at you for a second more, making sure you’re done talking before speaking himself.
“Sweetheart,” His hand reaches up to hold your own, the one on his cheek, “If I’m being completely, 100% transparent with you. I didn’t think I was worth your time. You are way out of my league and the fact that you chose to stick by me all these years just made it even harder not to fall for you. But you,” He squeezes your hand, “You are the one I want to be with. Always have been, always will be. I don’t want anyone else. I love you so damn much baby.”
The new pet name made a smile creep onto your face, the tears finally breaking the barrier and spilling down your face.
This man, your best friend, the one you didn’t know you loved as much as you truly did until a week ago, loves you back. You’re so happy that he loves you back that you can’t even stop yourself before you launch forward and pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, your soft lips meeting his chapped ones, a perfect pairing.
You pull away after a few seconds, needing to breathe. Your foreheads are touching as you stare at each other, love and lust filling your eyes.
“Can I kiss you again?” You nod and Eddie leans in for another kiss. This one being harder than the other, more passion and lust thrown in. Eddie’s tongue brushes over your bottom lip, wishing for access that you give without a second thought.
You moan at the feeling of his tongue meeting yours, the taste of weed, beer and pizza still lingering. Eddie’s hand moves from its place over yours and to your waist, being met quickly with his other. He holds you tightly, afraid that if he didn’t you’d slip away from his grasp. You move your leg over his going to straddle his thighs. He helps you situate yourself on top of his lap, lips never once disconnecting.
The new position lets you feel just how hard he is under his sweats, the boner that you’ve only ever seen through a screen under only a few layers of clothing. You start to grind your hips on him, making him groan into your mouth at the friction. His hands move down to your hips, helping your movements, while yours tangle themselves in his hair, feeling just how soft it really is.
You grab a handful of it at the base of his neck, pulling lightly as you continue making out and grinding on him. On one particularly rough thrust, his sweats hit that perfect spot on your clit making you moan into his mouth and pull his hair hard. He lets out a deep groan at the feeling, which makes you smile into the kisses, now knowing a little secret about him.
“Shit baby,” Eddie breathlessly says as he pulls away from you, “Need to taste you. Please.”
The words go straight to your core, making the wet patch between your thighs grow.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“I want- I need to. Been dreaming of this forever,” He pulls further from your face, gauging your reaction, “Will you let me take care of you?”
You nod your head, “Words baby. I need words.”
“Yes, please Eddie.” The words come out more whiny than you’d wanted but you could care less at this point, all you can think about is him between your thighs.
Eddie flips the both of you over, laying you down so your head is on his pillows. He goes back to kissing you, leaving kisses all over. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, before roaming further down, to your neck, sucking little hickeys wherever he goes.
You just lay there relishing in the feeling of his mouth on you, your hands still in his hair. He glides down to your collarbone, sucking another hickey there. His hands are sliding all over your body, up your thighs, gripping your hips, towards your waist, pushing the shirt you have on up, exposing more skin to him.
“Can I take this off princess?” He looks at you, his big brown eyes almost black with lust.
Without responding you sit up quickly and yank the shirt off of your body, tossing it somewhere on his floor. You lay back down, now in only your underwear in front of him. There’s something about Eddie still being fully clothed while you were there basically naked in front of him that turned you on more.
“Jesus, princess. You’re so damn pretty,” He guides his hands towards your boobs, looking at you for permission, which you give, before palming them, “These perfect goddamn tits.”
He leans down and starts sucking on one, kissing it softly at first before taking the nipple into his mouth, nipping it lightly. The other is being rolled between his fingers, pulling delicious moans and whimpers from you. He removes his mouth from one with a pop before giving the other the same treatment.
You try to buck your hips up into him, needing some type of friction, but his weight stops any possible movements. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and it’s driving you crazy not being able to see it, and have it inside you. Eddie bites a little harder causing you to scream out in pleasure/pain.
“That’s it baby. Let me hear you, I want every little moan and whimper,” He’s smiling at you as he goes back to trailing kisses down your body. He stops just at the waistline of your panties, slipping one finger through, pulling it back just to release and snap it against you.
You moan out, the slight sting feeling good. Your eyes followed him as he continued down, kissing your hips, and thighs. The teasing is driving you crazy but it feels so good at the same time, you love the feeling of Eddie’s lips on you. Eddie reaches your knee, planting a light kiss there before pulling away from you completely.
“You sure about this? We can stop now if you want,” His words seemingly far away in your ears.
You look at him and shake your head, his hair is disheveled from your fingers raking through it, his eyes blown wide at the sight of you, his sweats are tented containing the thing you want most right now. You sit up, crossing your legs beneath you as you reach for the hem of his shirt.
You tug at it until he gets the hint and pulls it over his head, tossing it down next to yours. Your eyes roam over his chest, eyeing the dark tattoos that contrast with his fair skin. You let your fingers wander over them, tracing the outlines and shapes etched into the skin forever. Eddie’s breathing quickens at the feeling of your fingers on him, he swears he could watch you do this all day but right now he needed to taste the girl of his dreams.
He grabs your wrists lightly, pulling them away from him much to both of your protest.
“Please, let me taste you. I wanna make you feel good,” He pleads with you for the second time that night. You stare at him above you before you look down at the ground; you’re scared now because you’ve never had someone go down on you, especially since you’ve only ever had one boyfriend who thought about himself more than you.
Your hesitation makes Eddie worried, he squats down in front of you to be in your eyeline.
“We don’t have to go any further. I’m okay with just going to bed now if that’s what you want.”
“No!” You quickly reply, “No I- I want this.”
“Are you sure? We don’t have to.” His eyes are soft, caring and full of truth.
You nod your head, “I want this Eds. I’ve just-” You sigh, “I’ve never had anyone…you know, go down on me.”
Eddie’s eyes widen at your words. He knows you dated someone a few years ago, assuming that the both of you did a lot together. But knowing this only fueled his need to please you more.
“Then let me be the first. I promise it’ll be amazing, for both of us,” He grabs a hold of your hands, “I want to make you feel amazing. Will you let me?”
You look at him, the lust in your eyes turning to pure unbridled love for the man in front of you. You nod your head, “Yes, I trust you.”
A smile breaks out on Eddie’s face as he goes back to his full height. “Lay back down for me sweet girl.” You follow his instructions, resuming your previous position on his bed. Legs wide and waiting for him.
He crawls over you, kissing his way towards your mouth. He plants one on you that has you moaning and bucking your hips into him again. He smiles into the kiss, pulling away and kneeling down so he’s eye level with your dripping cunt. His hands move like feathers over your skin reaching your underwear and slowly peeling them off of you.
His eyes never leave yours, making sure you’re comfortable as he pulls them off of you and throws them behind himself. Once he knows you’re safe and good he kisses up your thighs, towards your core.
You whine under him, he’s going too slow. You need his mouth on you and now. Eddie finally places the gentlest of kisses to your clit, pulling a squeal out of you before you buck your hips up in return. He smiles and goes in, licking and sucking the little bud until you’re a writhing mess under him.
Then he moves his tongue down, circling your hole a few times before slowly inserting it. He groans at the feeling of you pulsing around him, his hips rutting against the bed as he enjoys this just as much if not more than you.
The feeling of him inside of you, even if it is just his tongue is amazing and you can’t wait for more. Once Eddie thinks you are warmed up enough he glides his hand up to meet his mouth, replacing his tongue with one finger. The stretch it gives you is so new and pleasurable, once you get past the slight pain of it all.
“You’re doing so good, baby. Taking my finger so well, think you can take another one? Hmm?” Eddie looks back up at you wanting to see you fall apart for him. You nod frantically and mewl at his question, falling deep into the pleasure he’s giving you.
“Aw look at you, already so cock drunk and I’ve not even given it to you yet. You gonna be a good girl for me and take another finger so I can stretch you out for this cock?”
“Yes, please. Ed-” Once the word leaves your mouth another finger enters you, the pain shooting through you before being taken over by blinding pleasure.
Eddie pumps his fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, not wanting to hurt you, yet. But all you want is to cum, to feel yourself fall apart at his doing. The feeling of your core tightening signals both you and Eddie of what’s about to happen.
Eddie then attaches his lips to your clit again, sending you over the edge, cumming all over his fingers and face. He pumps his fingers until he feels you loosen around him then takes them out.
“God you taste so damn good sweetheart,” He crawls back on top of you, face to face before guiding his fingers that were inside of you to your mouth, “Taste yourself baby.”
You oblige and open your mouth, sucking his fingers clean of your juices. He groans at the sight, the way your eyes roll back and you moan around his fingers. He pulls them out because if he didn’t he was sure he’d cum just watching you like that.
Eddie goes to take off his sweats but you stop him, “I wanna make you feel good too Eds.”
Eddie’s eyes go wide, he’s thought of your pretty little lips around him so much and you offering it right now is like heaven but he knows that the moment your mouth touches him he won’t be able to hold back. “Sweets, you have no idea how much I want to watch that but right now I need to be inside of you. I’ve waited long enough, you can suck me off another time, promise.”
He kisses you then pulls his sweats down along with his underwear. His cock springs free, red and leaking precum just like the photo. You can’t stop yourself once you see it, you reach out and take it into your hands, stroking it slowly, softly, taking your time to relish in the feeling of your hand around him.
Eddie seems to be doing the same thing, moans and groans falling from his lips until his hand grips your wrist to stop your movements, “Gotta stop baby, or else I’ll bust right now.” He laughs a little before leaning down to give you a small peck on the lips.
He lifts himself up onto his hands and reaches for his bedside table, opening the top drawer and pulling out the small, aluminum square. He rips it open with his teeth before sliding the latex over his hard on, pumping it a few times before lining it up with your entrance.
He looks up at you, eyes locking, “You sure about this? We can still stop.” He’s so sweet and kind it makes your heart ache. You place your hand on his cheek, he leans into the touch.
“Please Eddie. I’ve never wanted anything more.” You give him a kiss, filled with love and lust and passion. With that he slowly pushes in, just the tip to get you used to the girth of him.
Your head falls back onto his pillows, one hand moving to grip his hair the other his back. He pushes in a little more, inch by inch until he is finally all the way in. The groan he releases when he feels you clench around him, getting used to his size, is like music to your ears. A song that you could listen to on repeat for hours on end.
“Need you- need you to move Ed, please.”
“Gimme a sec baby, wanna make this last.”
A few seconds later he pulls out only an inch or two before going back into the hilt. The feeling of him moving sends shivers down your spine, loving every moment of it. He gains more confidence and pulls out all the way to the tip before slamming back into you. The way your tits move from the force makes Eddie’s mind go blank.
Eddie’s pace is slow and rhythmic, just trying to let you adjust to him, but you need more.
“Faster Eddie. Faster.” It falls out of you as a moan, barely audible to yourself but he hears it and grants your wish picking up the pace. Your moans grow louder as his pace speeds, you start mumbling incoherent things.
“Good girl, take this cock like the little slut you are. Bet you love it when I call you my little slut huh?” You squeeze around him at his words, “Oh I felt that baby. You like it when I degrade you don’t you my little whore, hmm? Gonna always be the little cockslut that I know you are. Falling apart with me inside of you.”
You’re not even trying to hold anything back at this point, the feelings being too good to try to stop, “God Eddie you feel so good. You’re so big, dammit!” He hits that sweet spot inside of you that has your eyes rolled back and mouth wide open but nothing coming out.
“Oh, is that the spot honey? That the spot that makes you feel good?” He moves against you to hit that spot over and over again. Your brain goes numb, not registering anything that’s happening around you, too shrouded in pleasure to care.
Eddie’s talking to you but you can’t hear what he’s saying. Next thing you know he’s circling your clit with his fingers again, pulling a particularly loud whine out of you.
“Ed, I’m gonna- Shit! Feel like I’m gonna pee, gotta stop.”
“Oh but sweetheart that’s what I want you to do, wanna see you cum and squirt all over this cock of yours. Come on cum for me baby girl. I know you got one more in you.”
His words ring in your ears, but they sound so far away. The feeling of his hand gripping your hip and the fingers on your clit and the dick inside of you all becoming too much and you just let go. There’s a gushing sound as Eddie pounds into you faster and harder, now chasing his own orgasm. It rips through him just as hard as yours did you, his white sperm spilling into the condom. A small part of you wishes it wasn’t there, to feel his seed inside of you, maybe even have it stay there until you get pregnant.
Eddie collapses on top of you, breath hot and heavy against your neck. He’s planting small kisses along your shoulder and collarbone, waiting out the wave of pleasure that just overtook the both of you. Sooner than you’d like he’s getting up and pulling out of you, making you whine at the loss of him.
He exits the room for a short amount of time, returning to you in the same position. He starts to wipe you clean with a warm towel, being careful of your sensitive clit before pulling your shirt and underwear back on you. He puts his own clothes on, neglecting his shirt this time around. He goes to the side of you, picking you up bridal style and carrying you into the living room to lay you down on the couch.
He returns to his room to change his sheets and lay a towel down to soak up what seeped through. Once his sheets are changed he goes back to get you and places you back in his bed, pulling the covers up over you. He gets you a glass of water for when you regain consciousness and some pain killers he knows you’ll probably need.
Eddie gets in beside you, pulling you close, rubbing your arm as you breathe softly into him. A few minutes pass before you start to open your eyes. He looks down at you, brushing some hair away from your face.
“Hey there you are. How’s my girl doin’?” That smile you love so much is spread across his face.
“Mm, tired. Sore. And very happy.”
“I got you some water and painkillers,” He reaches over and grabs them from his bedside table, “Take these and drink this.”
You sit up a little and do as he says, drinking all of the water in the cup before resuming your position curled up at Eddie’s side.
“So how was it?” A smirk on his face.
“Eh, it was okay I guess. I’ve had better.” Eddie scoffs and hits your arm lightly, which just makes you giggle.
“Damn guess I gotta kill you now. Can’t have you going around telling people I’m only okay in bed,” He retorts back.
You look up at him, “And who else do you think you’ll be sleeping with? Cause if it’s not only me then I’ll keep my promise of castrating you.”
“Oh so you want to do it again, even after it was just okay?” You slap him in the chest.
“I’d do it a million more times if it feels that good after every one,” You say before giving him a kiss, “Will you be my boyfriend?”
“Already am sweetheart,” You give a quizzical look, “Since the day I met you I was yours. Always will be.”
You smile at his words, planting another kiss on his lips, “And I’ll always be yours.”
Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn
#eddie stranger things#munson#eddie munson#eddie my love#eddie my beloved#female reader#oneshot#smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x you#stranger things#stranger things 4#st4#stranger things season 4#eddie x reader
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— just can’t say goodbye
bodyguard!din djarin x princess!reader
rated e - 4.8k
tags: sorta medieval vibes, references to antiquated societal expectations, mentions and references to virginity, arranged marriage, technically infidelity because of said arrangement, light angst, sneaking around, first time, fingering, PiV, creampie
this is for the 1500 kisses event for @janaispunk! I got din + wedding! Jana, thank you so much for hosting this awesome event & for the gorgeous moodboard! 💖
“Take me,” You beg. It’s pathetic, no more than a whimper, “Take me, and then take me away from here.”
He’s been in your bed since the second your maidens were dismissed. You won’t sleep until dawn, not if tonight is all you have.
“You cannot mean that.” It’s harsh, almost a growl as it buzzes from his helmet.
"I have never meant anything more.”
(or - a final night is spent in the arms of your bodyguard, before your arranged union the next morning.)
You'd always known your duty.
What was expected from you, of you, drilled deep from an early age. Borne with pride - you were the eldest daughter of the king, after all - until you were wise enough to see that perhaps your obligations and loyalty were as much a chain as they were an honor.
Your life followed a well-worn path. Absorbing the lessons. Hours spent in learning about those before. Women like you - the graceful neck beneath the head of another lord, another king.
Support them, love them, bear them children.
It hadn't bothered you. You hadn't known anything else.
Not until him.
The Mandalorian had been assigned to protect you three years ago. A renowned knight, his allegiance first pledged to your father. And then, you.
Your bodyguard is not from your planet. It’s something you clung to - an endless source of information about things you've never seen or known, when his lips finally loosened.
But you had always seen him for more than just your bodyguard. That it was more than duty that bound you to each other.
Over time, during those hours spent with his back facing your door - a steadfast barrier between yourself and the cruel outside world - you had started to see between the cracks.
To read into his minute movements. Catching the tilt of his head and cock of his hip. The dry comments that slip from beneath his helmet.
Pretending he doesn’t care which of your handmaidens were caught in a dark corner with Ser Shand.
But you know better.
You think that perhaps you were doomed from the start. That it was always going to turn out this way between you.
Because when you had finally reached out to touch temptation - to sink your teeth into that sweet, ripe fruit - he had let you.
And at first - with the way he had allowed your hand to flatten against his armor, fitting into her personal space - you had wondered if it's because he wasn't able to.
People do not often tell you no. You've grown up in a carefully-carved mould - your requests are rarely things to be denied.
The thought had you shrinking back, the flat of your palm pulling back to fingertips.
Until his hand had closed around your wrist, tracing up to map the back of your hand. Bringing it back to smooth against his chest, right above his beating heart.
It had you realizing that perhaps he was just allowing you to take the first desire that has truly been yours. That your hopes and wishes had not been alone.
That all this time, he had simply been waiting for you to come to him.
Hours are spent together since, stolen between dusk and dawn. The near-silent wandering of hands and mouths.
That beskar armor nearly always fixed in place. It’s as much a part of him as flesh and bone. The edge of his helmet only lifting when he gets desperate. Sealing his mouth to yours. Deepening the kiss, until he’s all you can taste.
So much of him is still a mystery, but he’s come to know you as well as the back of his hand. Knows just how to make you bend, and then break.
Working his fingers between your thighs, until you’re shattering his arms. It will be enough to hold him over, until next time.
It has to be.
In the months since that first night, you’ve never tried to push. You’ve long known that you don't need to see his face - to strip him bare - to love him.
Determined not to ask him for more than he can give.
That is - not until tonight.
You've tried to hold on as long as you can. Always had been good at pushing things down. Grinning and bearing - with that polite, learned smile.
The dread you’ve been holding back crashes into you now, a charging lance against a shield. Splintering, and you can feel the ache in your ribs as if truly struck.
You cling to him. Stripped bare, his armor a welcome chill as your fingers slip between the fastenings of his armor.
Tonight, he allows you to loosen them. The room pitch-black, as the moon hangs full against a blanket of stars.
His helmet set carefully on your side table. Too dark to see him, a way around his creed. Trust woven in his actions, and you thank him with the soft press of your lips.
Against his throat. Teeth nipping skin as he groans.
He can’t leave a mark on you. Not a single thumb-print bruise - not with the way you’ll be stripped and scrubbed tomorrow.
So you leave ones on him. Reminders he can keep, until you can manage a moment alone again.
Desire swirls hot in your belly. Your own palm slipping down to tuck against his front, cupping him. Another part of him that he’s denied you fully.
“Take me,” You beg. It’s pathetic, no more than a whimper, “Take me, and then take me away from here.”
The potential wrath of your family pales in comparison to the thought of being bound to another. The reality of your situation sets everything in sharp contrast, the pretty veneer you’ve been living in cracking at the seams.
Din’s breath is harsh in your ear - fingers stuttering where they circle against your clit at your plea, coated in your slick.
He’s been in your bed since the second your maidens were dismissed. You won’t sleep until dawn, not if tonight is all you have.
“You cannot mean that.” It’s harsh, almost a growl as it buzzes from his helmet.
You might have thought he was angry, if you did not know him so well. If you couldn’t hear his own desperation, woven into each syllable.
It has your hips canting into his touch. Each word panted out, as your fingers stroke where he strains.
"I have never meant anything more.”
Your fingers pluck at his belt, but he eases them gently away. Catching your wrist with his spare hand, pinning it to the bed. His thumb sweeping against your skin, soothing as you squirm against him.
The fingers at your clit slip down to press just inside you. As if he’s thinking about it for just a moment, giving you what you’ve long desired.
But instead there’s a finality to his words, as his touch slips back up. Increasing the pressure until you’re moaning into your pillow, the tightly-wound stream about to snap.
His words, murmured into your hair, as you come undone.
"I won't let you throw your life away."
But how can you live, knowing that he won't be yours?
Not in the way you want him to be.
The man you’ve chosen to marry - a high-born Mandalorian from another clan - is kindly enough, but he is not your knight.
No one could be.
Your only solace in this union is that Din is going with you, honor-bound by his own sworn duties.
A blessing in spite of everything. You do not think you could do this without him.
But it does not make the lead-weight of your feet any lighter. The room spins in front of you, stretching long and think as your hearing fades out to white noise.
It's only the grip of your fingers into the King's bracers that keeps you upright. Nails digging into steel, as you take one step at a time.
Your wedding is as beautiful as it should be. As you've always dreamed - your dress in pretty layers of white and gold. Up since daybreak, primped and pampered.
It's enough to almost, almost, have you regret meeting Din. If you had not known a love such as him, you might have been content for a marriage like this.
But of course, it's no more than a fleeting thought. Immediately shut down.
Better to know and grieve, than to not know at all.
You're still as stone, at the end of the aisle. All the movements practiced the night before - the events that had sent you rushing into Din’s arms after.
It hadn't seemed real until then.
Your lips feel carved into that smile. Hewn since the day you were born, your true feelings hidden in the dull sheen of your eyes.
Disconnected, as they drift. Annoyance flickering deep in your mind, when they slide over your groom.
His armor is ill-fitting. The leather straps at the shoulder stretched to their limits, hooked on the last notch. Too much space between the plates of his cuisses, and his poleyn.
You've spent weeks preparing for this, and he couldn't even dress in his finest for the ceremony. It feels like an insult, after everything.
Maybe if you blur your eyes, you can pretend it's him. Just until this is over.
The Cleric chants the words you’ve known since childhood. Repeating the phrases as your palm presses against your groom's. Each phrase bringing you closer to the end.
Only propriety and decades of lessons keep the quaver from your voice. They sound just as you practiced as they slide from you, even when repeated through muted lips.
There's a crackle of energy at the joining words. A golden string, glimmering.
Only now does your hand twitch. Resisting the urge to pull away. If you don't right now - right this very moment - then you will not get the chance again.
Your groom feels it. The slight tremble - his grip tightening around yours. The barest sweep of his thumb against your knuckles.
The movement startles you.
Just long enough for the string to loop around your joined hands, and then tighten.
It's too late now. Bound forever, until death do you part.
“You may now kiss your bride.”
Your eyes go to his helmet, as the ceremony winds to an end. His finger and thumb catching on the hinge, as his head tips towards yours.
You can’t bring yourself to meet him. Not until his lips press to yours. Not until there’s an intimate familiarity to them.
The gasp that slips from you is quiet. A hushed thing, breathed into the chaste kiss. There’s scruff on his jaw where his skin should be smooth shaven.
The height is off, too - something you’re only just now noticing.
It’s like your heart remembers how to beat again. Confusion and hope swirling in you in equal measure.
You squeeze the hand in yours, as the kiss breaks. Eyes shining as you both turn towards the crowd, life finally flickering in them agin.
It’s here, that everything begins to fall apart. Almost fool-proof.
With a bang, a man stumbles through the arched door at the end of an aisle. The pale blonde of his hair is mussed - eyes wide and red-rimmed as he shouts, a finger pointing towards the pulpit.
“Stop them!” It’s a high, hoarse thing, “He’s an imposter-!”
There’s a rippling murmur, gasps and cries as the man’s voice carries.
But your husband’s hand is is tightly grasping yours.
“Trust me?” He mumurs, and you’re nodding.
Following behind him as he darts to the side, making for the hallway. Your skirts bundled up in a fist as your heartbeat pounds behind your ribs.
There’s voices behind you. The stomp of feet, though the guests and the hired protection do not know the castle the way the two of you do.
Ducking down one corridor, and then another. News hasn’t spread fast enough - there’s murmurs from guards that you pass, but they’re not quick enough to stop you.
The sky bleeds red when you burst outside. A ship waits, engines roaring - the same one you watched drop out of the sky years ago, with his first arrival.
“Su cuy'gar!” A voice calls from inside - another Mandalorian hailing as he rushes down the ramp, “You’re late. I’ll stall, but you need to go.”
It's one you recognize as a member of your Father's own guard, hand-chosen. Boba Fett's reputation for ferocity and loyalty preceeding him. Only now do you realize just where that loyalty truly lies.
“Vor entye, ner vod.” Din clasps his arm, a farewell woven into his thanks.
“Ret'urcye mhi, princess,” Boba’s head dips in a nod, “We’ll handle things from here.”
You’re whisked inside, and ship takes off just as guests begin to pour from the door. Boba blends into the crowd as you watch the scene from above, becoming no more than another bystander.
They grow smaller. Doll-sized, and then ants, and then the stars are streaking as the ship makes the jump - shooting you out into hyperspace.
It’s here that your legs finally give out. All that tension building up until it snaps, until you’re collapsing into the co-pilots chair.
Din’s hands are on you in a second. Gloves shucked with his teeth, discarded on the floor. Warm and familiar as they cup your face.
“I am sorry,” His voice is rough. Still distorted beneath your betrothed’s helmet, but you know it’s him, “I couldn’t let you marry him.”
“I know,” You head turns, lips pressing into the palm of his hand, “I was so afraid. I wanted to run, I almost did-”
He feels how you tremble. A ragged breath as his touch turns soft - smoothing over your cheeks, knuckles brushing your neck.
Your name is breathed out, as you relax against him. As your hands start to wander, tugging at the edge of his cuirass.
“I don’t like this on you.” Your voice sounds thick, in your own head. Biting through the emotions that threaten to choke you, “It’s not yours.”
“No.” He hums, and it sounds like a laugh, “Though as my wife, you may remove them now. If you wish.”
Din’s words makes you ache with want. His wife.
You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if all that he said is true. He’s never allowed you to remove more than a piece or two before.
“Is your armor here?”
“Mine is in the bunk. Along with your things, I had them packed while you were getting ready today.”
You smile then. Relief in knowing that this was planned. That he had put the ball in motion, in those few hours you shared before dawn.
Maybe he had daydreamed about it for even longer. Knowing he could not, but still unable to help thinking through things. How he would always choose you, if only you were to ask.
And you finally had, at the very last second.
He lets your hands slip across his chest, mirroring that first night. New, in the way you slip the leather straps free, until pieces are left stacked on the floor.
The flightsuit beneath is his own. Your fingers have traced the stitching night after night, patterns you know by heart. And for the first time, he lets you tug at the zipper under his chin. Guiding it down with you, exposing tanned skin beneath.
It leaves you greedy. Fingers mapping every inch that appeared. Tracing over old battle wounds and scars from a lifetime ago. A pounding in your heart as each second stretches to the next.
Expecting him to take this back. To wrap himself away again, hiding from your eyes.
Soon, only his helmet and small clothes remain. Your fingers drifting to where he’s half hard, another part of him you already know well.
But his hands wander as well. Plucking at the ribbons that weave up the back of your dress, encasing you.
“Are you fond of this?” He’s asking, just as a fingers hooks beneath. The sharp tug that follows the shake of your head has the seams splitting. That ribbon starting to fray, and then snap.
Your gasp is almost as loud, as the fabric rips. The straps drooping down your arms as the dress starts to pool around you, dragged down by the layers of tulle.
“I’ll get you another,” Din rasps - watching, as you wriggle free.
Seeing the layers of lace beneath, meant for another man. Deep down, knowing it was always meant for him.
His bare hands catch at your hips. Sliding over skin, then up.
"I'll marry you again, cyar'ika. Properly,” Din’s words make you shiver, as his touch drifts across your arms, “As many times as you want, as long as you're mine."
“Yours.” You echo.
Reminding you about binding rituals of the ceremony - all the excitement of the escape almost making you forget.
But when his fingers catch yours, dragging your hands to the curve of his helmet, it’s impossible to think of anything else.
Intent in his movement. The tip of his head towards you, the muscles in his chest going tight as he holds his breath.
“Are you sure?” The beskar is cool beneath your touch.
You know what he offers you. Something akin to the vows you recited, something spoken in his own language.
“Yes,” He echos, “I’ve never meant anything more.”
There’s a weight, one of which you’ve never known. That this wasn’t just to save you. That he’ll wind up right back here as many times, until you believe him.
The lift of your hands is slow. Revealing the stubble on his neck, then chin. You’ve seen bits with the tip of his head. A knowledge that the hair is dark, but then there’s the soft curve of his lips.
Ones that you know the shape of, tracing yours fingers over them in the darkness. Pressed against every part of you, night after night.
There’s a patch of hair missing against his jaw. His nose, and you resist the urge to press your lips to it. A hint of curls, grey-flecked at his temples.
And then his eyes.
He needs the mask, you realize. You would have fallen immediately, looking into eyes like that. Warm and dark, as brown and pretty as his hair.
Everyone would have known what you meant to him, if that had caught him looking at you like this.
The exhale of your breath is low. Only a heartbeat until your mouth is pressing to his, insistent.
Hungry, unleashed fully for the first time. His hands slide up your hips, as the helmet hangs from your fingertips. Curling around your back, pressing you to him.
He’s dreamed of taking you countless times. Your own desires mirroring his - something flickering in your mind, now. A thought that maybe, you should move.
Down to his bunk, perhaps.
But there’s something about here. The cockpit, the streak of stars behind you. His strong thighs spread and bare in the seat before you, as you stand between them.
It’s easy to crawl into his lap. To straddle him, your clothed core already damp when you fit yourself against him.
You can feel groan in his chest as your palm flattens against him. One of his real ones - not modulated through metal.
“Please,” It’s hushed, whispered against his mouth. A rock of your hips, grinding against him.
He catches your hand, dragging it down again.
“It’s yours,” He husks, “It’s always been yours.”
Pleasure blooms low in your belly. Your fingers cupping against his length, before they slip beneath the fabric to curl around him.
Eagerly easing him out. His hips lift so you can shove his small clothes down. The weight of his cock trapped between your belly and his, as his own fingers trace the damp fabric at your core.
“I need you,” You breathe, arching into his fingertips. How they press and rub at you through the lace. It’s far past want.
Want was those early days, stolen glances from beneath your eyelashes as your solemn guard. Finding excuses to make him laugh, so sure he must be smiling beneath the helmet.
Din wears his expressions so openly without. His own desire shown in the grit of his jaw. Those lips that part on a groan, as your fist gives a slow pump.
The lace at your hips tears as easily as the ribbons that held your dress together. A pivot of his chair until he can lay you back against the metal panels of the dashboard, chilling fevered skin.
You whine at the distance that now stretches between you, but his hands only tighten where they grip at your waist.
“Shh, cyar’ika. I’m not going anywhere.” He soothes you, as the reason he moved you suddenly becomes clear.
It’s easier for his fingers to fit into you this way. The flip of his hand, as it faces palm-up. The tip of one stroking against bare skin. A familiar stretch as he slips to the first knuckle.
And then, as a shallow gasp slides from you, he sinks further than he’s ever been.
Had to hold back, before. Give you just a taste of what you’ve been wanting. This - the feel of him nudged so deep inside you.
“I know,” Your husband soothes, as his thumb nudges at your clit - distracting you.
From the slow plunge of his finger. How that quick twinge of discomfort bleeds into a pulsing throb you know well.
It’s not long before your hips are lifting. Your breath growing shorter, as a second fingers slips in to stretch you out. Getting you ready.
His cock is heavy where it rests on your thigh, the tip sticky against your skin. Flushed and swollen - making you realize that maybe you had been too hasty, thinking you could take him before.
Your own hands drift - and this time, you watch. Catching how dark and blown-wide his eyes get. The peek of his tongue between his lips when your fingers pinch at your nipples.
The way he inhales, when he feels you clench down around him. Back arching off the console, as his fingers curl against a spot that you never knew existed inside you.
“There,” You moan, as nudges against it again, “Din, please-”
His jaw grits, his voice low, “Yeah? Are you close, ner riduur?”
You’re used to the pretty names he calls you - a hidden way to show his affection. But never like this, with the soft purr of his voice. The way the words slide so easily from his tongue.
It must mean something special.
“Yes,” Your fingers pinch harder, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Biting back the panting gasp of your breath, as his thumb presses against your clit.
“Come for me.” It’s a command, but there’s a razor edge of need in his words, “Always sound so fucking pretty. Let me hear you.”
You’ve always had to hold back. Muffled into pillows, his palm of his hand as it clamps over your mouth.
The cry rips from you today, as you reach your peak. Eyes fluttering shut as the star-lines streak across your bare form - still bright, even as your vision darkens.
Your nails scrape against his skin, as he leans into you. Din’s mouth sealing to yours as you’re hauled into his lap, his thick fingers slipping free.
The kiss is messy, your mind still swirling as you reach down. Desperate for more, now that you’ve had a taste.
He pants into your mouth, “Don’t have to, cyare. This is-”
The words breaking off with a groan, as your fingers squeeze around him. His own need evident with how he throbs against your palm.
“‘s not enough,” You’re breathless, the dregs of pleasure settling low in your belly, “I’ve waited, we’ve waited-”
“Long enough.” He rasps, a flash of teeth in the darkness when you lean back.
Your nod is sharp. Determination in the pull of your shoulders as you lift up, angling his cock between your thighs.
A breath, and then you’re lowering yourself. The pressure you felt before is nothing compared to now - a muffled cry, as your nails bite into his shoulders.
As he stretches you open, even with how slick and ready you are. His own hands tug at you, trying to keep you from dropping down too quickly.
But you take him. You were made for him, after all. You decided that long ago. Even if you had joined with another, you’d never be theirs like you are his.
And you always were a quick learner. That competitive streak in you takes over now - figuring out just how to move in the cramped space.
That sting easing into pleasure, with the roll of your hips. The movement is familiar - you’ve sat astride him before, just never like this.
Never feeling this full, when your thighs are finally flush against his. Din’s hands guiding you like they often did - grasping at your waist, keeping your rhythm steady.
Even as it threatens to stutter, with just how good he feels. The angle you ride him sends him across the place his fingers found. Each drop of your hips sending you higher, eager to follow his murmured encouragement.
“You feel so fucking good,” It’s ragged and low - close to the tone he has when he comes, spilling across your belly, “Been waiting so long so have you like this-”
“Yours,” You sigh, again. Finally able to say it aloud, “I’m yours, we can have each other any time we want.”
Din groans at that, his hips bucking into you.
“Mine.”
It’s possessive. The hairs on the back of your neck standing up, as his fingers slip down again. Needing to know just how it feels to make you come around him, after imagining it for so long.
Your rhythm goes sloppy with his touch. Unable to figure out how to keep moving with your mind so clouded with pleasure. Chasing his touch as you bounce, head tilting back as his lips press against your throat.
Up, and then up, until he’s kissing you again. Your arms twine around his shoulders, curls tucked between pinched fingers as he brings you over the edge again.
Sharing a breath, as you moan into his mouth. His cock filling you as you clench down around him, almost as if trying to keep him inside as your orgasm pulses through you.
Din used to worry about monsters and beasts darkening your doorstep, never knowing he’d create one in you. Hungry like you’ve never known, eager for more even as your energy slips from you.
With his own desperation, he’s not far behind. Not with how you tight you are. Ready to give you everything, now that he finally can.
His jaw grits as he buries himself in you. Doing most of the work now, your legs leaden in your afterglow. Rutting his hips against yours, notching himself deep into where you’re wet and warm.
“Princess-,” Din rasps, like he used to. A low huff of a breath as you correct him.
Your lips at his ear, as you croon, “Riduur.”
“Fuck,” He groans at that, his voice dropping low, “Riddur, where do you want me?”
It makes you moan, the rough tone in his voice. How that name in his native tongue affects him just as much as you.
Your hips begin to move in earnest, skin slapping against skin. Those dark eyes on yours as you answer - finally able to express your hearts desire, after all these years.
“I want to feel you.”
His breath grows harsh, as your hips roll.
“Come in me. Please, Din.”
There’s no need for you to beg. He’s already there - a rough grunt as his hips near lift off the seat. Tugging you down and flush against him as he spills inside you.
You can feel him throb, as his warmth floods your walls. Threatening to spill from you, to leak onto thighs that are already sticky with your release. Sweat-dewed with exertion.
That heady ache of need fades, when you both come back down. It’s just bliss now, warm in your limbs. In his embrace. For the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re able to breathe.
The stars streak across his skin, illuminating pieces of his face. So like the stained glass back home, each feature split and soldered with darkness.
“Do you regret it?” His voice is low, barely audible over the hum of the engine, “Leaving with me?”
Your head tilts back, as you look at him again. A sight that you cherish, one you hope you can indulge in, but never take for granted.
And after all the questions that led to today - this one has been the easiest to answer.
“No,” You catch his hand, pressing it to your heart. Mirroring his words earlier.
“It’s always been yours.”
In every world - you would have gone with him.
Sometime amongst the late hours, you wind your way downstairs.
Fitting together in the narrow bunk, not minding the small space. Drifting off with a hand cradled against his neck. Thumb brushing his cheek, loathe to leave the warmth of his skin.
Soft dreams swirl in the moments you do sleep. In between the times when you wake - reaching for each other. Another hour spent twined together, re-learning every inch.
Not fearing the dawn, this time.
Because for once... your life is yours.
thanks for reading! and jana, thank you so much for hosting this event, I was so excited to celebrate with you! 💖
Su cuy'gar! - a friendly greeting (lit: "still live," i.e. "so you're still alive.")
vor entye - thank you (lit: "I accept a debt")
ner vod - my brother
ner riduur - my spouse / wife
ret'urcye mhi - goodbye
#1500 kisses challenge#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x female reader#din djarin smut#din djarin imagine#din djarin x f!reader
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Can you please do driver reader and she is the baby of the paddock and she gets sick and everyone is worried and looking after her including her team principal Christian
Worried Mothers Hens
Formula one grid & female!driver!reader
Summary - You get a cold/fever, and the drivers become like worried mother hens
Warning - Blacking out, crash, ibuprofen, mention of breaking your back
Reader drives for Redbull
-
- You're the youngest on the grid
- Only being 18 years old and the only female on the grid was a huge accomplishment
- Fans love you
- They think you’re the most iconic on the grid
- Your tiktok is filled with candid videos of other drivers
- Like this one time, you asked Carlos to crack your back
- Thing is he didn’t know that you had a uncooked piece of pasta between your teeth
- So when he went to crack your back, he freaked out
- The poor Spaniard thought he seriously broke your back
- “¡Dios mío!”
- “Y/n! I am so sorry! Are you okay?!”
- He kept worrying and apologised
- But when you started to laugh, he expression was concerned
- “¿Qué? ¿Estás bien?”
- “Carlos! It’s okay”
- The fans loved it!
- It was race day for the new Las Vegas Grand Prix
- And many cameras captured each driver as you all arrived separately
- But everyone noticed your pale face and sniffly nose
- Your race engineer, much like everyone else, was concerned
- “Are you sure you’re okay?"
- "Yeah I'll be fine"
- You weren't
- You crashed into turn 5
- "Y/n! Are you okay? Confirm you're okay?"
- Nothing
- You had blacked out down that straight from turn 4 to turn 5
- Luckily you're RB19 didn't cause any collision with any other car
- "That's a red flag! Red flag!"
- "Wait who? Where?" The british McLaren driver asked
- "Yeah I saw the collision, who was it Max or Y/n?" Daniel Ricciardo asked his race engineer
- But when they all found out who was in the car, their concerns for you went up like crazy
- "Is she okay? Has she responsed?"
- They were all instucted to enter the pit lane and would wait there until the race continued
- It's okay though
- You got out of the car unharmed and were told to head to medical centre in the paddock
- So thats what you did
- This did calm some nerves of the other drivers but they were all still that bit concerned as they were told they would continue the race soon
- The medical team told you to go back to your hotel and sleep this fever off
- And thats what you did
- You fell asleep straight away when you got into your hotel bed
- Only to be woken up a few hours later to a knock on the door
- "Come in" You shouted from the bed, only now noticing your scratchy throat
- Opening the door revealed Max, Carlos, Charles, Lando, Daniel and George
- (Pretend Lando didn't crash into the barrier and won)
- "Hey buddy how are you feeling?" The Australian asked as he came to sit by my feet on the bed
- "I've been better"
- Turns out after the race finished they all went to the local supermarket and made up a basket full of cold/fever remedies and all your favourite foods
- lemon cough sweets
- toffee popcorn
- ibuprofen
- etc
- For the rest of the evening, they completely babied you
- Happily watched your favourite childhood film
- Made sure the bed was comfortable for you
- Made you drink a lot of water and eat a lot of vitamin C
- And it's not like the fans missed out on this whole thing
- They all made sure to post regularly on their instagram stories
- Even agreeing to do a tiktok with you
- Overall, being the baby of the grid and being the most iconic really worked out in your favour
-
#formula one#formula one x reader#formula one x y/n#formula 1 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x y/n#f1 2023#formula one x you#formula one fanfiction#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#red bull f1#ferrari f1#mclaren f1#mercedes f1#alpha tauri f1#max verstappen x reader#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x reader#daniel riccardo x reader#george russell x reader#lando norris#charles leclerc#max verstappen#daniel ricciardo#carlos sainz#george russell
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. . . hanging on the line with someone, knowing that you’re not friends but nothing more at the same time is tough, but bearable. until it all finally gets to you.
“are we friends?”
you almost regret the words the moment they leave your lips.
your heart demands an answer right here and now, but your head screams at you for letting your impulsion take over.
what if this one question ruins everything that you barely have?
your heart is thumping way too loudly against your chest, and you feel your hands get clammy and sweaty, and somewhere within, you start trembling. you look up to find mark’s eyes, hindered with surprise, already staring at you blankly.
they say eyes are the windows to one’s heart. and maybe that is true, but you’d never know. standing just a few inches away from you here was mark, looking right at you, and you could see his eyes so very clearly, but somehow still, you couldn’t break past the confusion, like a barrier, painted in his eyes.
“what?”
his voice is coarse, and a little cracked, as if he’d lost it for a moment here and had to choke it out, as he finally speaks. he doesn’t move, barely blinks, and neither does he utter a word more. He simply stares into your eyes with a silence that steadily creeps around you two eerily, and it makes you feel suffocated.
was he trying to see past your eyes too?
“us. are we friends?”
the same question, a bolder voice, but the same shaking hands and heart that belonged to a body in whose mind, a world of thoughts and doubts was crashing.
he’s quite for another few seconds, but he answers this time.
“i mean, of course, yeah. yeah. we’re friends. we hang out all the time.”
your gaze hasn’t shifted from him since the moment you held it, perhaps because you’re scared that if you look away once, you’ll never find the guts to look back up to him in this moment right now. but you’re looking at him, and so you see how his eyebrows furrow and how he scans your face with such innocence and confusion that it almost tugs at your heartstrings.
had it been any other day, your heart would have fluttered and you’d have found him intolerably cute, but right now, your chest only felt tighter at his oblivious response. of course, he says?
“you know that’s not what i meant, mark.” you think your tone comes out a bit more stern and harsh than you had meant for it to sound. but that was only the reflection from the grip you had to keep on yourself to face this situation that you had feared for quite long now.
you had thought everything would go just fine the way it was going, and that maybe there was no need at all to determine what this relationship between you and mark was. maybe a label would only be a burden. maybe being something in between the lines that no one read aloud would bring the best outcome, and maybe, peace would only be maintained that way.
but you were tired of it. it was painful, and exhausting, and everything you couldn’t bear for a moment longer.
the pretence. the blurred lines. the confusion. the “not something, not nothing”. you needed the clarity.
loving someone hurts.
it hurts like shit. so when it came to mark, too, it hurt. you knew that, and you’d accepted it too. but if you were going to be hurt either way – whether you stayed with him as a friend, or something more, something closer – then, might as well hurt over something that was, you know?
something concrete. something that had a name, and a face, and was there. real. not something that no one said out loud, like this thing you and mark had going on. god knows how long you’d have been able to keep this up.
“i don’t know what you mean, y/n. i need you to be more clear with what’s going on in your head.” he retorts with an equal amount of roughness in his tone, and this certain certainty that he has as if he truly cannot notice anything wrong sets off something in you.
“we don’t act like friends!” you voice shifts in pitch, and your breaths turn quicker, shakier.
“what are you saying?”
“friends don’t write love songs for each other, they don’t go on dates to dog cafés together and hold hands through the entire conversation, they don’t hug each other and then refuse to let go for just a while longer, they don’t make bucket-lists filled with romantic ideas and they definitely don’t almost kiss every time they get a little too close. friends don’t do that, mark. and we do.”
it feels like letting yourself fall off the edge of something you were too scared to leave after hanging there and being stuck since a long while.
the scattered thoughts in your mind that grew denser and denser with each passing moment that you spent with mark and stole away your sleep at night were finally out there in the open, spilled messily all over both of you and the bond that tied you.
there’s a raging war in your head, but somehow the world grew so quiet.
mark replies to your outburst in riddles of silence, and you didn’t speak that language. you didn’t want to. but what more was there to say from your side? what better words could you throw out, what better things could you do? what more?
there’s this swirl of emotions that stir up inside you, and bleed to every corner of your body. from your chest, to your stomach, to your feet. a bitter taste of grey and red falls onto your tongue that you suddenly cannot swallow, and your eyes turn hazy with layers of tears and hurt and disappointment and embarrassment.
and it’s all enough for you to tighten your grip on the suddenly heavy bag that’s slinging on your shoulders, and you turn on your feet and stride away from him; you’re not sure if it’s just him you’re leaving behind. with mark had always come a thousand other things that mattered to you.
but you’re not thinking of any of that right now, except the fact that, as you walk away from it all...
he doesn’t try to stop you.
#mark x reader#mark imagines#mark lee imagines#mark lee x reader#mark lee scenarios#mark scenarios#mark angst#mark lee angst#mark fluff#nct reactions#nct dream reaction#nct dream imagines#mark fanfic#mark lee fanfic#nct 127 fanfic#nct reaction#nct fanfic#nct scenarios#📂 — nct . . !
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Hey! Ps: love another Lie 🫶🏻 Your writing is so beautiful! I have some fiction ideas and I hope you'd like some 🥹
Imagine Charles in the middle of a race and there is a high speed crash. He's bruised and hurt and may have internal injuries but he wants to get back to the reader in the pitlane asap cause he knows the reader would lose it and as he suspects the reader is in the middle of a panic attack with everyone holding her back and on seeing him she is relieved and breaks down and he's like "you've been crying" and consoles and Hugs her in public. Ps: If you're up for it maybe it could lead to soft consoling nsfw smut?
A Little Longer
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader Warnings: 18+ only, crash, panic attack, injuries, smut WC: 1.3k
F1 Masterlist
You only looked away for a second, but that was all it took to miss the crash.
One moment Charles was setting best sector timings, and on the way for the fastest lap, and the next his car was spinning off the track and slamming into the tecpro barrier.
A collective gasp had rippled through the garage and you had nearly broken your neck with how quick your head snapped back to the screens. For a moment you couldn’t even see him through the dust from the gravel pit he had caught the edge of. In that moment a hundred thoughts passed through your head. In that moment a thousand questions followed, growing darker and darker as everyone waited for the dust to clear.
All ability to function was erased as you remained frozen in place, eyes fixated on the screens, unblinking, waiting for any sign of movement.
You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think.
You hadn’t realised you were moving until Joris grabbed your arm and you found yourself under the harsh sunlight of the pit lane instead of the garage. “Let me go,” you begged with a broken voice. “I need to get to him.”
The edge of your sight was fuzzy, the images blurry as tunnel vision set in and Joris shook your shoulders. His lips were moving but no sound penetrated the noise in your head or the whoosh of your pulse that seemed to be thump in your ears.
“I need to get back to my girlfriend.”
“This is your health we are talking about, Mr Leclerc. You need to be thoroughly checked out at the medical centre.”
“Later,” Charles argued as he limped over to the motorcycle, his hand clutching his ribs. “You don’t know her, she will be worried.”
Every bump on the path sent a jolt of pain across Charles ribs and he bit back the groan that followed. He had to focus on his breathing as he ignored the crowd watching his return to the pits, he couldn’t spare a second to think about all the people he had disappointed with his crash.
All he could think about was you.
He immediately knew he was right to worry when the motorbike puttered along the pit lane and he saw a ring of his crew trying to keep the media from seeing the scene behind them. Your cheeks were damp with your tears but your lips were cracked from the rapid breaths you were struggling to take. Joris was at your side, the relief in his eyes notable when he looked up and found Charles pushing his way through the crowd.
“Mon cœur, you’ve been crying,” Charles whispered as he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing soft kisses over your damp cheeks.
“Charles?”
He hated how broken your voice was, broken because you had been screaming for him until your throat was raw. He held you tighter despite the protest his body made but he couldn’t stop the sharp intake he took when life returned to you and you threw your arms around his waist.
“You’re hurt!” you gasped as you leapt back and kept him at an arms width so you could inspect him. “You should be with the medics. What if you’re bleeding internally? I can’t live without you, Char.”
He chuckled softly and cupped your face so he could silence your ramblings with a kiss. “I’ll see them soon, I just need to hold you first. Please?”
You couldn’t deny him, not when his green eyes looked so blue. Lacing your fingers with his you gave him a small nod and finally noticed where you had ended up. You couldn’t remember leaving the garage and Charles draped his arm over your shoulder, turning you back to the shelter of the garage when he saw your eyes widen in realisation.
“I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” you mumbled as he closed the door to his driver room.
“I know, mon cœur,” he replied softly as his hands ran up and down your back soothingly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Your trembling fingers reached for his face, tracing the creaselines his balaclava had left over his cheeks and when his eyes fluttered shut your thumb brushed away the dust that had clung to his lashes.
“I couldn’t see you.” His eyes opened at the sound of your voice. “It was the worst feeling in the world. I couldn’t see if you were okay or if…”
Charles chased away the lingering thought as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you. “I’m here, I’m here,” he reminded you as he stepped backwards, taking you with him to the couch where he sank into the soft cushions with a wince before tugging you onto his lap.
You tried to pull away as your legs settled either side of his thighs but his arms locked around your waist. “You’re hurt, baby. You need to let the medics check you.”
“Soon.” His hands followed the curve of your body until he reached the hem of your dress and they slowly began to climb once more. His palms were still warm from his gloves and the touch sent heat waves rippling across your skin as he inched higher up your thighs. “Please, let me hold you a little longer.”
It was unfair of him. Truly. He knew exactly how his touch affected you and when his thumbs teased the line of lace between your thighs you couldn’t think clearly enough to deny him. Your response was dragging the zip of his race suit down and his hands left your body only long enough to pull his sleeves down and shove the material past his waist.
Time began to work strangely as the urgency to feel each other crashed into the need to savour the moment. Your panties were pushed aside in the rush as Charles’s strong hands guided your body down to meet his and then time slowed as you stared into the gold and green eyes of the man you loved more than anything.
Whatever he saw in your eyes made him swallow deeply and bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing his way back to your lips where he reminded you once more, “I’m here, amour.”
You returned his kiss, combing your fingers through his hair as it deepened and your hips began to move slowly. There was an awareness of his injuries that kept you from moving any faster and after a minute Charles’ impatient hands gripped your waist and set the pace for you until you forgot about the crash completely.
“I love you, Charles,” you moaned as your core clenched around him and he stole the soft sounds with his lips as he joined you in ecstasy.
“I love you too.” He sighed contentedly as he pulled you as close as possible against him, your entire front pressed to his, but the sigh turned to a groan of pain.
“Medics, now,” you ordered as you climbed off his lap and offered your hands to pull him to his feet. “No more procrastinating.”
“What we did wasn’t procrastinating, amour,” he managed to tease as he held his rib cage with one hand while he pulled his race suit back up with the other.
You groaned and ran a hand over your face. “You’re not allowed to joke until the doctors have cleared you, Charles.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” Lacing your fingers in his, he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed them before reaching for the door. “Let’s go and ease your mind, my sweet.”
#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smut#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#charles leclerc smut
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I just want everyone to get back, and after awhile, Nora and Ren start picking up that Weiss is following Jaune more around.
Nora is many things, but oblivious to her friends’ interpersonal relationships she is not.
Hopelessly addicted to syrup in any form? Yes. Mostly only good for hitting things with a big hammer. Definitely. But no one can say she’s blind to the nonsense going on in the lives of her friends.
Especially when it comes to romantic leanings.
Weiss’s crush on Pyrrha, Ruby’s on Penny, Blake’s on Sun, Jaune’s on Weiss- Nora’s seen it all, been there since day one for every pining glance and wistful sigh.
She’d been the first to notice Pyrrha pining after Jaune, and then Jaune pining back until it all went to shit. She’s known since she met him that she’s in love with Lie Ren. And Yang and Blake could not be more smitten if they tried.
So it does not escape her notice that after returning from the Ever After, Weiss simply won’t stop following Jaune around.
Weiss isn’t the only one, of course. Ren, Oscar, and herself have barely left their leader’s side since he returned. Nora doesn’t know about the boys, but she’s more than a little scared that if she lets him out of her sight he’s going walk through a door she can’t follow him through.
Jaune all but admitted that they almost lost him. She can’t bury him again.
So she laughs and slaps his back too hard and ignores how he flinches and his voice cracks with time that didn’t pass. All smiles and fun times from Nora. That’s her job. Better to focus on a potential crush from the ice queen than the decades he spent mourning them while they mourned him.
Ren is better at emotions since his Semblance evolved, but Nora doesn’t want a shortcut. He could probably look at Weiss and figure out exactly what’s going on, but that’s not the point.
Nora doesn’t want answers half as much as she wants a distraction. This is the closest she’s been to normal since Atlas fell.
So espionage it is.
It’s going to take more than a war for Nora to forget the less than suave wooing attempts Jaune made in Beacon, or Weiss’s prickly shut downs of each try. So for the crush to be on the other foot…
Well. It’s interesting enough for Nora to want to look into. Jaune is her family, and he’s fragile these days. She loves Weiss like a sister, but if she breaks his heart, Nora will break her.
She just wants to make sure her intuition is correct. Nora of the past wouldn’t have bothered, opting to shove the two of them into a closet into the ice queen confessed.
There’s a lot of things Nora of the past wouldn’t have bothered with. She’s smarter now, and that wisdom was bought with broken knuckles on gold barriers and stone monuments on sandy hills. So she’s going to make sure.
Nora follows Weiss following Jaune from a discrete distance through an alleyway shaded with draped cloth, close enough to keep them in sight but far enough that she can’t hear what they’re saying.
She happened to be passing by as they returned from a market trip that Weiss offered to accompany him on, and decided to tag along. Nora isn’t an idiot, she knows a date when she sees one. Odds are Jaune didn’t, bless his heart, but (and there’s a twinge of guilt) after decades living in a storybook how good would anyone be at social cues?
Jaune says something off-hand and Weiss giggles, covering her mouth with a hand. She snarks right back at him, resting her hand on his elbow and smiling. The tips of his ears turn red and he grins, rubbing the back of his neck.
Nora’s eyebrows raise. She hasn’t seen him act this way since Beacon. Not with Weiss, either. With Pyrrha.
The duo’s conversation seems to meander into the more serious and their stroll slows to a stop. Nora ducks into a doorway. When she peeks back out, they two are just standing there, heedless of the crowd bustling around them. Jaune stands a head taller than most of the passers, and he appears to be frozen.
Wait.
Oh no.
Oh no! The crowd! They’ve been trying to get him acclimated back to people, but this amount is clearly more than he’s ready for. Gods what was she thinking letting him-
Nora is about run to him from her hiding place when Jaune starts moving. No… not just moving, he’s being shepherded from the street. Weiss has one hand on his back and the other at his elbow and is ushering him off the busy street.
Jaune is all but a puppet in her hands, shaking and distant, eyes a million miles away. Nora follows the two of them slowly, no longer trying to keep a low profile. Espionage be damned, if Jaune needs her she’s willing to endure Weiss yelling.
Eventually she finds them in an alley off the main road. There’s no traffic here, just a few empty crates.
He’s sitting against a wall, head between his knees. Weiss is next to him. Her dress is covered in sand and schmutz, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Nora watches as she takes one of Jaune’s hands and places it on her chest.
Exaggerated breathing, in and out. She’s letting him feel her heartbeat, Nora realizes. The hand that isn’t holding his is rubbing circles into his back. A breath in, a breath out. And all through it Weiss is keeping up a dialogue of murmurs.
Her eyes don’t leave him even as his shudders turn to full on shakes and he comes back to his body in a flail of panic, lashing out at perceived enemies. Weiss doesn’t try to restrain him, just keeps holding his hand and murmuring quiet words.
Jaune calms, and his breath comes back to him in a choking sob. He curls into himself even tighter, leaning towards Weiss but not touching her, and Nora’s heart clenches. What did that place do to her brother who craves physical affection like a starving man craves food?
Weiss shuffles closer and rests an arm around him (as much as she can) still holding his one hand. Her thumb rubs across his knuckles and Nora can see Jaune press into the contact like it’s the only thing binding him to the planet.
Maybe it is.
She’s intruding. This moment isn’t for her.
Nora slips away from the alleyway and back to the Academy. It’s not how she would’ve liked to confirm it, but in a way her espionage was a success. It lightens something in her to know her intuition was correct. Despite everything, she’s still Nora.
And she couldn’t ask for better hands than Weiss to hold her leader’s bleeding heart.
#rwby#jaune arc#nora valkyrie#weiss schnee#white knight#mine#asks#anonymous#healing rust au#my writing
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OK, se we all know ghostspeak, right? It's a language for ghosts that comes from the ghost zone, and basically only halfas and ghosts can speak it on earth, but what if it's a forgotten language on earth?
----
It existed thousands of years ago, but slowly died off until no one remembered it.....until Tim went snooping in the house of mystery and came across an ancient book written in a language he didn't recognise.
After asking cough cough blackmailing cough John for the book Tim took it home and somehow forgotten about it, for about a week.
Now, during the week the book had been sitting in his room, Tim had gotten into an argument with Bruce, then with Alfred over his sleep, or lack thereof, and forced into decaf coffee for the rest of the month. So he was pretty frustrated, annoyed, and looking for revenge.
When Tim saw the book sitting on his desk innocently, he had a brilliant idea, a magnificent wonderful show stopping idea that would get his sweet sweet revenge.
Now, remember that Tim's brain is running on decaf coffee, no sleep, and no dopamine, it would not be too far fetched for him to think that because Alfred is obviously immortal he would know this ancient language, so Tim could learn this ancient language and insult his cooking in his (maybe) mother tongue! Obviously, it's a low blow, but revenge changes a person.
Tim spent the next month studying that book, staying locked in his room like the 'good grounded boy' he was. Obviously, Bruce knew something was up, but it didn't seem like Tim was up to a mastermindfull plan that might destroy or recreate gothams crime ring, so he let mumbling studying boy be.
Tim finally shut the book with a released sigh and sat up, cracking his back of the kinks and smirking at the victory he could already practically taste on his tongue. Today was the day. He was fairly confident that he had successfully broken through the language barrier and fluently learnt the once forgotten language.
Tim swaggered (yes, I said that, don't kill me) into the dining room and took a seat next to danny, his newest kindest and most naive brother, before looking towards everyone gathered today. It was the anniversary of Danny's first adoption, and everyone was here to celebrate it, even Jason of all people, though he could understand why. Since the two met, they had a seemingly special bond, and everyone knew Jason was Danny's favroute. No matter how hard dick tried to be.
Waiting until the food had come out and danny had successfully poked and prodded his plate to his liking, a weird ritual he did "to make sure it won't attack him" danny had said the first time anyone asked, everyone began eating. Tim hid a tiny smirk behind his bowed head as he finally said the words he had been waiting for all month.
"Looks like you're losing your touch, Alfred"
A second passed, no one says anything and Tim has just a smidgen of regret, did he say it right? Did he mispronounce something and make a fool of himself?
"Sniffle"
Tim's head shoots up to Alfred's, he only wanted to shock him and insult him a little bit! He didn't want him to start crying.
Yet Alfred's eyes were dry, and instead of looking at Tim, heck, no one was looking at Tim. They were all looking to the side of Tim, where danny sa-
Oh no, danny.
Tim swivelled his head and let his jaw open in shock as he sees danny full on breaking down, tears and snot covering his face that he desperately tries to wipe away as Jason kneeled beside him and tried to comfort him, the same static noises that Tim had made just before coming from his mouth.
Yet these were different, more confident in the tone and more soft and comforting than whatever Tim had said.
"Not-kill-dare-day-dann-calm-"
Tim could barely recognise the words coming from Jason's mouth and paled as he realised what that meant. It meant that he should have spent longer learning from the book, it meant he shouldn't have tried this in front of the entire family, it meant he had said something completely different than what he meant to say, the only question now is.
'What the fuck did I say?'
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Full headcanons of MC being forced to attack M6 please 🙏🏽🙏🏽
The Arcana HCs: When MC is forced to attack M6
~ oh boy, anon friend, we're really not holding back today are we XD Hope you enjoy this sequel! ~
CW for non-gory injury descriptions, trauma disassociation, and intense guilt
-- to set the scene --
You don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive yourself.
In the moment, all you could feel was terror. The mage you were fighting rippled away as a haze of fear washed over your senses, and suddenly your worst nightmare was right next to you and readying itself to tear you limb from limb. You don't know how long you screamed and lashed out for. You don't know how many rules of fair fighting you abandoned to stay alive.
All you know is that, eventually, the terror subsides, and now you're looking at the pained face of your beloved as blood slowly trickles down their temple.
Julian
The first thing you feel is the way his arms are pinning you to him, effectively restraining you with a desperate hug
He's quietly talking to you, watching your eyes clear as you return to your senses, whispering "hey. hey, I'm here" over and over again until you're able to stop struggling and meet his gaze
You're almost relieved to see that you only managed to hit his head once, until he shakily loosens his grip and you can feel where your hands have angrily clawed and pummeled at his back
He's already nudging you to get back home, leaning a little heavily on your shoulder and telling you over and over again that it's not your fault, the threat's gone, nothing's hurt that can't be fixed
Refuses to take care of his own wounds until you've let him tend to yours and until you've started to believe that things will get better
It's hard not to let your heart break when he finally takes off his shirt and lets you get a look at his back. You tore it to shreds
Not to mention the cracked ribs that clearly make breathing hurt
He doesn't let you dwell on it, instead passing his doctor's tools back to you and talking you through the process of patching him up. Any apology is interrupted with "ah ah ah, my dear, doctors don't say sorry when they're helping people. It's not your fault."
Beyond the initial fear of losing you to the madness, he's not shaken up by your capacity to hurt him. If anything, once he's healed up, he starts praising your ferocity whenever he can
Asra
They're a little ways away from you when you regain lucidity, one shaking arm extended to hold up the magic barrier you were just struggling against. They look terrified - and heartbroken
As soon as you stop fighting and your legs begin to give out, he's sprinting the several feet over to catch you. There's a stream of apologies and reassurances leaving his mouth as he reaches you
"It's okay - it's okay - I'm so sorry, it's going to be okay - I'm sorry I didn't stop it sooner. Just hold on, my love, it'll all be okay -"
Doesn't want to let go of you. Mostly because they're injured and exhausted too, but also because it's easier not to let you see how badly they're hurt if you're both hiding in each other's necks
Won't let you look at him until he heals you first
When you do, you have a to keep a strong face, or you know they'll cover it up and take care of it themself. You didn't get through the barrier, but it seems your powerful magic attacks did. Effectively
The arm that was holding up the shield has bruises and cuts all over it. There's angry red lines reaching from his elbow across his chest where you apparently sent lightning dancing over it
They let you heal them because they know it'll help you, but they won't talk about such a painful thing openly. They don't want you to feel like you have to apologize. The nightmares think otherwise
When he does talk about it, it was seeing you so scared of him, like he was a threat to you. Like he'd hurt you. It's his greatest fear
Nadia
You open your eyes to find yourself at the other end of her drawn sword, the blade carefully hovering at an angle where only the flat of it will strike you. Her eyes look wide and scared - vulnerable
You can tell she's been moving defensively this whole time because she doesn't take advantage of your sudden pause. Rather, she watches you cautiously as you sink to the ground
She wants to believe it's over, but she's not putting her sword away until she knows for certain that it's done. Prove you're back to her
Can't bring herself to touch you or to let you touch her until you're both finished talking. You need to tell her what happened to make you act like that. She needs you to know what she did and why
She did everything she could not to hurt you. She promises
Doesn't hold it against you at all. She knew from the moment your eyes went hazy that you weren't acting of your own volition, and she feels truly sorry for the frightening thing you must've endured
But that doesn't change how startling it was to be on the receiving end of your fear and aggression. She needs to know you're okay. She needs to know she's okay. She needs to know it'll stay that way
Has a Palace medic tend to your wounds separately, but does eventually let you use healing magic on her once she's comfortable with your touch again (though that might take a few hours at least)
Insists on holding you close that night and the following evenings. She knows she's safe with you and refuses to feel otherwise
Muriel
The more your vision clears, the more your terror changes to horror. He did nothing to stop you. He did nothing to stop you
The blood trickling down his temple meets with several gashes on his jaw and neck, there's jagged gouges across his chest and shoulders, and bruises already blooming across his stomach
And yet he's giving you the gentlest look, reaching out to you slowly the same way you've seen him calm wounded beasts in the forest. You've still done much more damage than a scared rabbit
Doesn't say much, just catches you by the shoulders when you start to fall and carefully cradles your cheek when you start to cry
You don't realize how much trauma he's fighting until you've made it back to the hut and the fine tremble in his hands hasn't left
And it's because he's so busy fighting his own awful memories that he accidentally shuts you out, not saying a word, not hearing a word, turning away after setting you down so you can't see him numbly dab at his wounds and try to get the blood out of his sight
Doesn't start to break until you start to break. Somewhere in his mind is a conviction that he's not allowed to feel bad about this because he's had worse, and your tears are his permission
Healing really begins late that night as he holds you in his lap by the fire, learning to let his own tears fall while you tend to his injuries and lament the fact that Muriel didn't protect the person most precious to you - himself
Portia
When the haze lifts, you're flat on your back, all of Portia's weight on your middle while she pins your hands to the ground above your head. The worst part is that she's openly sobbing
You can feel throbbing aches and pains all over your body where you know she fought back and you've never been so happy to be injured in your life. Sadly, you still did a fair amount of damage
So relieved to see you stop struggling and recognize her that she collapses into hugging you and telling you it's over and it's okay and she loves you so much and she's so glad you're back
Furious at the mage that pulled this kind of trick on you, to the point that she can't even hear you bring it up without immediately venting all her anger at them and all the things they deserve
This accidentally makes it impossible for her to accept any kind of apology from you, because to her you're a victim. (which, you are, but that doesn't change the injuries your hands gave her)
Quick to try to cheer both of you up, dragging you home to her cottage, pulling out her first aid kit, and handing you what you need to patch her up while she gets started on you. It'll be okay
Starts processing it pretty openly the next day, at which point you're finally able to share more of how you felt through the whole thing and make the apologies you want to make (she forgives you)
There's a short period of time where you're both extra careful about consensual touch, but all in all, she bounces back quickly
Lucio
You can see his golden arm up and guarding his head while he readies his human hand to push you away again. His gaze is scared and worried, and yet vacant enough to know he's acting on instinct
Stays frozen as you fall, still mentally struggling to realize it's over, before finally collapsing next to you and reaching out to pull you into a hug. You're back. You're here. He's so glad you're here
Shaking and terrified that everything's going to fall apart after this. He just saw you more scared and angry than he's ever seen you before - as scared and angry as he's seen others often look at him
He knows deep down you were under a spell that made you see something else, but there's a worry present in his brain that this was actually you awakening to your true feelings about him
It doesn't help that he doesn't remember what all he did to fight back. Years of combat experience and battlefields kicked in, and all his thoughts went on hold while his body went on autopilot
And the last time someone he loved fought to kill him - well - it was his mother. That did not end well
He can't bring himself to care about injuries until he knows you won't leave him, until he knows you're going to work through this with him. Until he knows you can still love each other
Once you're reconciled and bandaged up, he's in his element. The amount of tender attention you're showing him is feeding his soul
Still subconsciously keeps his guard up around you, for a while
#ask arcana brainrot#the arcana#the arcana headcanons#the arcana hc#the arcana game#asra the arcana#julian the arcana#nadia the arcana#muriel the arcana#portia the arcana#lucio the arcana#asra alnazar#julian devorak#nadia satrinava#muriel of the kokhuri#portia devorak#lucio morgasson
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why did you leave me (cl16)
part8!
multipart story! prev || next
✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader
summary : charles and y/n have always been best friends. but y/n has been in love with him forever. when charles starts dating a new girl, out of respect y/n distances herself. but how much is too much?
Y/N, feeling slightly steadier after her talk with Lando, decided to head back to the paddock. Her heart still felt heavy, but the weight of her secret was a bit lighter now. As she walked, she spotted Charles standing alone, leaning against a wall. He looked up, and their eyes met. His eyes were just as red and puffy as hers, filled with a mixture of pain and longing.
For a moment, they both stood frozen, staring at each other. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, they both moved at the same time, running towards each other. When they collided, it was as if all the barriers between them shattered. Y/N leaped into Charles' arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, holding on as if her life depended on it. Charles buried his head into her hair, breathing in her familiar scent, his arms wrapped tightly around her, never wanting to let go.
Months of distance, misunderstandings, and unspoken words melted away in that embrace. It felt like coming home after being lost for too long. Both of them held on, neither wanting to be the first to break the hug, savoring the closeness they had missed so desperately.
Charles pulled Y/N even closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and her legs stayed securely around his waist. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that moment. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart against his chest, mirroring his own.
Her scent, a mix of vanilla and something uniquely her, filled his senses, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had. He buried his face in her hair, the soft strands brushing against his cheek. It had been months since they had embraced like this, and the longing they had both felt was finally being sated.
Y/N clung to him, her fingers gripping his shoulders as if afraid he might disappear. She could feel the strength and reassurance in his embrace, the way his hands gently but firmly held her. The hug was more than just physical; it was an unspoken promise, a silent confession of all the words they hadn’t said.
For Charles, holding Y/N like this was a revelation. The way she fit perfectly in his arms, the comfort and peace he found in her presence—it all made sense now. This was where he belonged, with her. As he tightened his embrace, he whispered softly, “I never want to let you go again.”
Y/N’s tears mingled with his, their faces so close they could feel each other’s breath. She nestled her head into the crook of his neck, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong. It was as if the months of pain and separation melted away in the warmth of their hug, leaving only the pure, unfiltered love they had for each other.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Charles whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t realize how much until now.”
Tears streamed down Y/N’s face as she clung to him. “I missed you too, Charles. More than you know.”
Charles pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “Y/N, we need to talk about something. I need to tell you something, and I need you to understand how much you mean to me.”
Fear flickered in Y/N’s eyes. “Charles, I—”
“No, let me finish,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I heard everything you said to Lando. I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean to eavesdrop but its like I couldn't move away. I know why you pulled away, why you’ve been hurting. And it breaks my heart that I didn’t see it before. That I missed the fact that you felt this way.”
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “You heard all of that?”
Charles nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and hope. “Every word. And it made me realize something, too. I’ve been blind to what’s right in front of me. You’ve always been there for me, Y/N. You’ve always been the one I turn to, the one who understands me better than anyone else. Every time I walked into a party, I would search for you. I wanted your hugs, your advice, your tears all of it.”
Y/N’s heart raced, fear and hope warring within her. “Charles, please don’t say this just because you feel guilty. I can’t handle that.”
Charles shook his head, his grip on her tightening. “It’s not guilt cherie. It’s clarity. You’ve always been more than just a friend to me. I just didn’t realize it until now. I need you in my life, not just as my best friend, but as something more.”
Charles pulled back slightly, just enough to look into Y/N’s eyes, his own brimming with emotion. "You know, Y/N, looking back, I realize now that it was always you. I just never recognized it for what it was. All those times I went out of my way for you, it wasn’t just because we were friends."
Y/N tilted her head, her eyes searching his. "What do you mean?"
Charles took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "Remember when we were in high school, and I used to drive halfway across town just to bring you your favorite coffee before class? Or the time I spent an entire weekend building that bookshelf for your room because you mentioned you needed one? I even learned to cook your favorite meal just to surprise you on your birthday."
He paused, his voice softening with the weight of his realization. "Those weren’t just friendly gestures, Y/N. Those were the actions of someone who was in love, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. I wanted to see you happy, to see you smile because of something I did. I wanted to be the one you could always count on, the one who was always there for you. And every time I saw you with someone else, it hurt because I wanted to be the one who made you laugh, who made you feel special."
Y/N’s eyes widened, tears glistening as she listened. "Charles, I had no idea…"
Charles nodded, his own eyes filling with tears. "Neither did I, not really. But now, looking back, it all makes sense. I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N. I just didn’t understand my own feelings. But now I do. And I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to be with you, to make you happy, to love you the way you deserve to be loved."
Y/N was speechless. It was like a dream, the right guy, the right words coming out of his mouth, all of it.
Charles took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking again. "You know, Y/N, I never really understood why I felt so jealous whenever I saw you with other guys. It was like this fire inside me every time someone else made you laugh or smile. I hated it. I wanted to be the one to make you happy, to see those smiles and hear those laughs. I wanted all of them for myself, but I didn't know why until now."
Y/N looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise and hope. "Charles, you never showed it. You always seemed so okay with me being around other guys."
Charles shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "I guess I was good at hiding it. But every time I saw you with someone else, it felt like a piece of my heart was being ripped out. I didn't understand it then, but now I do. I was jealous because deep down, I wanted to be the one who had your heart. I wanted to be the one you looked at with those beautiful eyes of yours. And now that I know you feel the same way, I don’t want to waste another moment."
Tears filled Y/N’s eyes again, but this time they were tears of hope. “Charles, are you saying…”
“Yes,” he interrupted, his voice full of conviction. “I’m saying that I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for longer than I can remember. I just didn’t recognize it for what it was. But I do now, and I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”
Y/N’s heart soared, the words she had longed to hear finally spoken. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes searching his. “I love you too, Charles. I always have. I just didn’t think you could ever feel the same.” She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I’m here, Charles. I’m yours. And I’ve wanted to be for so long."
Charles smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months. “Well, now you know. And I promise, I’m not letting you go. Not ever again. And I’m yours, Y/N. You have all of me. Forever."
Charles leaned in, his forehead resting against hers.
They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the weight of their confessions lifting the heavy clouds that had hung over them for so long. Finally, they had found their way back to each other, and nothing would ever keep them apart again.
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles lecrelc#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x female!reader#f1 imagine#formula 1#formula one#y/n#best friends#ava speaks#charles leclerc fanfic
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murder daddy vs. lawyer daddy. Knives out (2019) vs. Defending Jacob (2020)//
My weaknesses. Not to mention the hands on their hips like daddies about to scolding you 😩 I mean where do I sign up.
Just a thot...
Back to Black
Warnings: allusions to abuse and coercion, along with other untagged dark elements.
Summary: You get a lecture after you try to make a break for it.
Note: as usual, your thoughts are welcome. I'm kinda piddling around with these today but I hope you enjoy. Reblog and comment if you so kindly like.
You can still smell the smoke. You taste it too. The jarring impact replays in your head as the loud crush of metal echoes over and over. Your car spinning out, crashing into the barrier, flipping over the other side. All you saw were headlights, round and white. The Beemer.
Your eyes snap open again. Your skull throbs as the familiar scent of bergamot and citrus stains your nostrils. The aroma brings thoughts of wool and brick. It is the smell of the Thrombey stronghold. Of your prison.
Your eyes slit as ribs ache. You cough as you take a deep breath. There’s a scuff and a groan. The creak of wood, old furniture, inherited. Footsteps and a door, voices in a low rumble from down the hall.
You let your lashes droop and remain as you are. A downy pillow under your head and a heavy quilt draped over laundered linen over your body. You have no energy or strength.
“She’s awake,” Ransom snarls as he stomps into the room. “Hey,” he kicks the footboard, “none of the play shit, you little bitch. That’s not going to work on me again.”
“Woah,” Andy calmly girds the other’s temper. “Honey.”
You know he’s talking to you. That’s what he always calls you. That pet name. That false beacon of kindness. How could you fall for it.
“Honey,” he drags out the word the second time. A warning.
You open your eyes. His hands are on his hips. That stance holds so much; frustration, disappointment, anger... danger.
“How are you feeling? That was quite the joyride you had.”
You could laugh if your ribs didn’t feel like knives. Your head lolls. Arguing is useless. You realised that long ago. It’s why you tried to run.
“Reckless. Stupid,” Andy continues on.
Your eyes drift over to Ransom as he shifts to mimic Andy’s posture. It isn’t quite as effective. He pushes back his grey sweater to grip his hips, looking more petulant than intimidating.
“Where were you off to, anyway?” Andy tilts his head.
He’s playing with you. That’s what he does. He’s a prosecutor. He’s a cat with a mouse. He’ll bat you around until you squeak like he wants.
“Packed a whole damn bag and everything? You going to visit family? An impromptu vacation?” He continues.
“Stop,” you croak.
“Stop,” he scoffs, “I don’t like liars, honey, and I know you’re not a liar. So why the fuck did you take my car?”
His tone is iron. You flinch. He knows. He just wants you to say it.
“You know--” you begin.
“Fucking brat,” Ransom mutters. Andy taps his chest, holding up a finger, then points at you.
You heave in exasperation and it makes you whine and hug your torso. Something’s broken. Several something’s at least.
“Because... I was leaving you,” you sneer as you close your eyes. “But you win. The both of you.” You wheeze and cough. “You always fucking win.”
Andy clucks, “now, honey, you know I don’t like when you swear.” There’s a subtle crack, you can see it without looking. Him tilting his head until his neck cracks. Then he bends his knuckles until they do the same; criiiick. “Ransom, go get the soap. Looks like we need to go back to basics.”
#ransom drysdale#andy barber#dark andy barber#dark ransom drysdale#dark!andy barber#dark!ransom drysdale#andy barber x reader#ransom drysdale x reader#drabble#knives out#defending jacob
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Too Intense
Pairing: Shuri Udaku x F!Reader
Warning: Y'all gone hate me cause Shuri rude asf. You have been warned. I'm actually tryna hurt yall feelins. Angst.
Word Count: 1.1k+
Summary/Request: Toxic!Shuri. That's it.
Author’s Note: I wrote this a while ago but I wasn't too sure about it. I tweaked it a bit and now i'm in love. Lmk if yall wanna be on my taglist. Love yall
Taglist: @blkgworlamplified @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @theblacksuccubus
The cold, sterile smell of the hospital was almost too familiar by now, a stark reminder of the pain and confusion that had become a constant in your life. Shuri had been rough with you during a training session. Her strength, normally a reassuring presence, had become uncomfortably overbearing, and you found yourself sidelined in the hospital for a few nights on many different occasions. The bruises and aches were secondary to the emotional turmoil of being so close to her yet so far away.
When you were finally released, the confrontation you dreaded sought you out. Shuri had locked herself in her room, unable—or rather unwilling—to face you. Her absence was a silent scream of regret and discomfort, and you could feel the coldness of her avoidance cutting through the air. Her usual self-assured demeanor had cracked, revealing a vulnerability she refused to acknowledge.
Her newfound lack of empathy was one of the hardest things to endure. Shuri often acted as if her own hardships were so monumental that nothing could compare. It became a habit for her to dismiss your struggles with an almost casual cruelty. “Wow. It’s so sad you argue with your mom every day. Where’s mine? Oh, right. I’m done listening,” she would say, brushing off your pain with a shrug. It was as if your problems were trivial compared to the grand scale of her own trials.
This lack of empathy extended to how she handled your relationship, particularly when it came to her interactions with RiRi. Shuri was constantly talking about how beautiful RiRi was, her voice dripping with deliberate poison, meant to provoke jealousy and rage. Despite her attempts to downplay it, her actions spoke volumes. The tension built until it reached a breaking point. One night, the emotional strain pushed you too far and you lashed out at her with every fiber of your being. It was a desperate act of frustration and pain, the culmination of feeling constantly belittled and manipulated.
Shuri looked you dead in the eyes after that you spoke out against her behavior, her gaze cold and unwavering. “You aren’t more important than my work or anyone else in my life,” she said with an icy calm tone. “If you can’t handle that, then you should just leave me alone. Spend the money I give you and keep quiet.” The words cut deep, and the gesture that followed—a transfer of two million dollars to your account—was a bitter reminder of her ability to detach from you emotionally while trying to compensate with financial means. The way she used money as a substitute for emotional connection only deepened the rift between the two of you. Her financial generosity was supposed to be a balm for the wounds she inflicted, but it only served as a stark reminder of how transactional your relationship had become. The many millions of dollars she has transferred to you over the years were a testament to her belief that money could mend what her words and actions had shattered.
Her refusal to even be intimate with you became a weapon she wielded with precision. One morning, you had simply greeted the Dora Milaje with a soft “hi,” and Shuri’s reaction was swift and harsh. “I didn’t like the way you spoke to them,” she declared, her tone final. “No sex tonight. Matter fact, don't touch me for a week.” The punishment felt petty and unjust, a way for her to reassert her control and punish you for perceived slights.
The physical and emotional barriers she built were sometimes more painful than the wounds from training sessions. Her constant criticism, whether it was about your strength or my interactions with others, was a manifestation of her own insecurities. She projected her frustrations onto you, making every exchange feel like a test of endurance rather than a moment of genuine connection.
The dynamic between you often felt like a constant struggle for validation. Shuri’s embarrassment over your perceived lack of strength was another cruel twist in the relationship. “Tighten up, what is the hell is the matter with you,” she’d scold, her impatience palpable. It was as if your struggles were a reflection of her own inadequacies and oh did she despised seeing you falter.
Shuri’s refusal to acknowledge her role in your issues, combined with her tendency to gaslight and dismiss every feeling you expressed, left you reeling. Her actions, from the callous remarks about any family issues to the cruel mind games she played with RiRi, spoke of someone who was deeply conflicted but unwilling to confront her own shortcomings.
Each time you thought you'd find a moment of understanding or solace in one another, Shuri would retreat back into her fortress of self-righteousness and emotional detachment. It was as if she viewed the relationship as a battleground, where the stakes were high and the only victory was maintaining control. Any attempts to address these issues were met with her trademark dismissal or cold logic.
In moments of clarity, you could see the cracks in her armor—the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability and the rare admissions of her own struggles. Yet, these moments were always fleeting, quickly buried under layers of her self-imposed duty and mental barricades. It was a dance between pain and disillusion, where love was twisted into a weapon rather than a source of comfort.
As you navigated the choppy waters of your relationship, it became clear that Shuri was trapped in her own cycle of paranoia and denial. Her inability to balance her personal and professional lives, combined with her tendency to prioritize her work over the connection you two once nurtured, created a volatile environment where genuine affection was often overshadowed by power struggles and emotional manipulation.
The realization of how deeply she was embedded in her own worldview left you grappling with your own emotions. You had to come to terms with the fact that your attempts to reach her or change the situation was no longer necessary. The love you once shared had become a thorn in your side. The high stakes were not just your feelings but your very sense of self-worth and emotional stability.
In the end, you were left to decipher the complexity of your union, trying to find a way to either bridge the gap or finally accept that this cycle of emotional manipulation and control was unsustainable. The journey was marked by moments of intense passion and deep pain, a testament to the intricate and often destructive nature of your once sacred connection. The combination of emotional distance, scheming, and outright cruelty created a relationship that was as painful as it was complex.
#omg#shuri angst#shuri is a eater#shuri x reader#black panther x reader#black panther imagine#shuri smut#shuri udaku x reader#shuri udaku#black!reader#black!y/n#marvel imagine#black panther#black panther smut#black panther angst#shuri black panther
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do you need me?
a self indulgent sick fic of alexia x reader :)
warnings: migraine, vomiting, general sickfic things.
You woke before the alarm went off, barely containing a groan of pain. The left side of your head is pounding, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, the light coming in through the curtains only reinforcing the throbbing sensation. You didn't get migraines often, but when you did... they were incapacitating. The body next to you didn't stir at your movements, and you were glad. God knows Alexia needs the rest. You can't resist rolling over though, in search of comfort from her warm body. You nestle against her, and her arm comes to pull you into her, even as she sleeps.
You lay there for what feels like hours trying in vain to fall back asleep, knowing her alarm is due to go off any minute. You were dreading it; the sound, but also having to get up and either decide if you could push through and go to practice, or if you weren't going to be able to leave the bed today. You and Alexia had been together for almost a year, and you'd managed not to get sick around her that entire time. You'd always hated being sick; when you were younger, because no one really bothered to take care of you. Now, you hated that people DID try to take care of you. You'd done it alone for years, you could handle it yourself now.
However, you knew Alexia well enough to know that your usual pattern of laying in bed motionless, by yourself, until the migraine passed would not fly. She had been slowly but steadily breaking down the barriers you'd set up, getting you more and more comfortable with accepting help and letting her take care of you. She'd made good progress, but she hadn't seen you with a migraine yet, your stubbornness only exacerbated by the pain you felt.
You were contemplating whether it would be possible to hide this from her when the alarm finally blared, causing you to wince and shove your face farther into Alexia's neck. You felt the rumble of her chest as she chuckled, reaching over to shut the alarm off. Your behavior wasn't really alarming to her; you were not a morning person, and you normally made it very difficult for her to get you out of bed.
"Buenos días, mi amor," she whispered against your hair, pressing a few kisses onto your head, trying to get you to wake up. You grumbled incoherently into her neck, and she laughed again. She found you irresistibly adorable in the morning, all grumpy and clingy. She let you lay on her for a few more minutes, before she rolled out from under you, and headed into the bathroom to get ready for training. She busied herself with her morning routine, expecting that when she returned to the bedroom, you would be up and making coffee, as you normally did.
Instead, you continued to lay in bed. You'd rolled over, throwing an arm over your eyes to block out the light, trying to convince yourself that you could get up. Your brain felt like mush, though, and you knew if you tried to stand you would just fall right back down. You felt tears welling in your eyes, from both the pain and the feeling of being completely useless.
Alexia walked back into the bedroom then, and you heard her footsteps pause as she took in your form still curled up under the covers. You could tell her she was trying to determine if you'd fallen back asleep. You willed yourself to move, to do anything, but only managed to move your arm away from your face, immediately letting out a pathetic whimper as the light hit your face, more tears escaping.
"Hey, que paso? What's wrong cariño?" Alexia spoke softly, walking toward the side of the bed quickly. She stopped, gently resting a hand on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.
Alexia could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen you cry, and she'd never before seen the look of pain etched over your features; she was worried to say the least.
You managed to respond to her, voice raspy from sleep. "Migraine," you mumbled out, cracking an eye open to look up at your girlfriend. Her face was pinched with concern, and it made your stomach twist. You were fine, she didn't need to worry.
"I didn't know you got migraines, bebé," she stated, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, still looking at you with a face full of concern.
"Not often. From stress. Been a while," you spoke the fragmented sentences through clenched teeth, the pain in your head increasing at the low volume of Alexia's voice, and the light peeking in through your barely open eyelid. You had hoped to put Alexia more at ease, but at your words, her brow furrowed more.
"What can I do?" She responded, her voice dripping with worry. You sighed, very torn between asking her to bring you your medicine and stay in bed with you all day, or telling her to leave you be and get to practice before she was late. You settled for a combination of the two.
"Medicine in the nightstand. Then go to practice." You replied, letting your eyes falls shut again as Alexia immediately moved to get you the medicine. She helped you sit up and take it, holding the glass of water to your lips. She placed the glass back down, and brought her hand to run through your hair. Her touch was gentle, and you felt yourself melting into it against your will.
"I'll stay home with you today, y/n, one missed practice won't kill me," she said softly, as if anticipating your protests. You were reminded how much she must care about you, for her to consider missing practice to take care of you. At her words, your eyes flew open again, much too fast, and you let out another groan, covering your face with your hands.
"No, I'll be fine. Go to practice and explain why I'm not there." you made the extra effort to speak in full sentences, trying to make your girlfriend feel better about leaving you. Luckily, Alexia knew better than to argue with you, so she stood, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, before speaking again.
"Call me if you need me, if you need anything. Okay? Promise?"
"Si, Ale, promise," you were really screwed now because you'd rather die than break a promise to her. With that, she pecked your lips, and left the bedroom, heading to training. You rolled onto your side, pulling the fluffy duvet over your head, trying to fall back asleep.
-----
Alexia arrived at practice, and did her best to focus. She wasn't very successful. Her thoughts kept floating back to you, curled up in bed, in pain, all by yourself. She really, really hoped you'd actually call if you needed her. She'd given her phone to Jana, who was out for a few weeks with a muscle strain, with strict instructions to call Alexia over if you called.
She knew how you were about letting other people help you, so when Jana called her over only an hour into training, she knew that it had gotten worse, and you really needed her.
And you did. You'd managed to fall back asleep for about 45 minutes, before you jolted awake, suddenly nauseous. You realized you'd taken your medicine on an empty stomach, which you weren't supposed to do. You sat up slowly, trying to stave off the dizziness to no avail. Your stomach lurched, and you had the sense to grab your phone off the nightstand before stumbling into the bathroom, and unloading the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You rested your head against the cool toilet seat, trying to take deep breaths.
You were sick again and again, before you slumped onto the floor, exhausted. The act of getting sick had made your head hurt worse, and moving into the bathroom had made you dizzier. You laid on the floor, watching the room spin around you, before you tried to sit up and get yourself back to bed. The minute you raised your head from the ground, though, the world started to go hazy, and you instantly rested it back against the floor, realizing you weren't going anywhere by yourself anytime soon.
Your decision to call Alexia was more because you knew she'd be furious if she came home and found you passed out on the bathroom floor, and less because you were allowing her to help you. Regardless, you managed to click her contact, it only ringing once before Jana's voice came over the speaker, speaking much softer than she normally did. Alexia must have told her what was going on. You hadn't gotten a word out before Jana was telling you what you wanted to hear.
"Ale's coming right now, just hang on a sec." There was some brief shuffling, and suddenly your girlfriend's voice was cooing at you over the phone, and it took everything in you not to break into tears again.
"Hey amor, do you need me?" She asked, already moving to leave practice, regardless of your answer.
"Si, por favor." Your voice sounded weak and you hated it, but there really wasn't much that you could do at this point. You were quickly losing the battle of being independent.
"Okay, I'm leaving right now, I'll be there soon." she replied, making no move to hang the phone up. You couldn't respond, instead resting the phone on your chest, hoping the sound of you breathing would be enough for Alexia until she got here.
Alexia realized you'd gone quiet, and hoped you'd just fallen asleep. She sped home, ignoring several traffic laws, pulling into the driveway too fast and throwing the car into park. She turned it off, rushing inside and leaving her bag in the car.
You had, in fact, dozed off, and you were suddenly waking up to the feeling of soft hands cupping your face, and Alexia calling your name. Your eyes fluttered open to see Alexia's face hovering right above you. She helped you sit up, which proved to be a mistake, as the nausea returned and your were bending back over the toilet. You tried to push Alexia away with a weak hand, incredibly embarrassed , but she didn't move.
"No, I'm staying right here," she told you, her voice firm, carefully pulling your hair into a loose bun, and resting a hand on your back. When you were done, she pulled you back to rest against her chest, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. You allowed your head to lay on her shoulder, too exhausted and in too much pain to resist her. She pressed a few tender kisses to the side of your head, and you blinked back tears again; this time, because of how soft and caring she was being. You didn't want her to have to take care of you, but now that she was, you couldn't deny that it felt good.
"What is it, amor? Are you in pain?" She whispered the words against your hair once she noticed the tears. Telling her that you were crying because she was being too nice to you seemed like it would end poorly, so you just nodded your head. You WERE in pain, it wasn't a lie. It just wasn't why you were crying.
"Y/n... maybe I should take you to the hospital." You jerked forward at her words, twisting in her arms to assure her that that wouldn't be necessary. Another wave of dizziness hit you at your rapid movements, though, and you had to shut your eyes, leaning forward to rest your head on Alexia's chest.
"No. No hospital. I'm fine. It'll pass. I'm sorry you had to leave practice for me," your voice grew thicker as you spoke, and your throat hurt from holding back sobs.
"Cariño..." she sounded unsure, like she was desperate to take you to the hospital that minute.
"No, Ale. I'm fine." Your voice came out sharper than you intended, and you were flooded with guilt instantly. She was only trying to help, why were you snapping at her? Instead of pulling away from you, as you'd expected, she tightened her arms around you, pulling you in even closer. You knew you didn't deserve it, but you couldn't help but snuggle closer to her warmth, burying your face in her chest. She somehow seemed to know what you were thinking.
"It's alright, y/n, let's get you back in bed okay?" her voice was unbelievably soft, and more tears leaked out of your eyes at her tone. You pulled away from her, intending to stand up with her help, but she was swooping you into her arms, cradling you close to her chest as she carried you back to the bed. She set you down so carefully, as if you were the most important thing in the world to her. You looked up at her, focusing on the furrow in her brow as she pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Your head pounded, and you wanted nothing more than to shut your eyes, but you couldn't tear them away from your girlfriend, looking at you with so much care.
She met your eyes, then, and you tried to smile up at her, to express your deep gratitude, but you're sure it looked more like a grimace than anything. She smiled back down at you anyway, brushing the flyaways out of your face. You looked at her, trying to figure out how to ask for what you wanted. Again, she seemed to be able to read your mind.
"I'm all gross from training, I'll shower and then come lay with you, vale?"
"Si, gracias Ale. For all of it." Your voice cracked on the last word, and she leaned in to kiss you.
"Te quiero. You deserve to be taken care of, mi amor. Always." She said it definitively, leaving no room for argument, before heading off to shower.
You laid completely motionless while she was gone, pulling the blankets up over your face to block out the light. You weren't crying anymore, and you'd completely given up trying to push her away. All you could do was wait for her to climb back into bed with you.
Alexia must have rushed her shower, because it couldn't have been more than 10 minutes before you heard the bathroom door creak open, and the soft padding of her feet on the carpet. The bed dipped, and she was right next to you suddenly, wrapping you up in her arms. You cuddled into her, tugging her impossibly closer, gripping her shirt in your hands. She was wearing your favorite sweatshirt of hers, the one that was all fuzzy on the outside, which made laying in her arms even more comfortable. She didn't love the way it fit, and your heart melted at the fact that she was wearing it anyway. You breathed her in, the coconut of her shampoo, and the mango of her body wash.
"Rest, cariño, you'll feel better when you wake up."
She felt your soft breath on her neck, and relished in the feeling of you in her arms. She really didn't want to be anywhere else. Not at practice, not anywhere. She just wanted to take care of you. As you drifted off against her, her thoughts were consumed with exactly how she was supposed to convince you to allow her to take care of you, without any resistance.
-----
part 2?
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An angel and a demon walk into a bar.
It sounds like the beginning of a joke, one that would have annoyed Crowley greatly before- before. Maybe it would have been mildly amusing, were it not for the fact that it is a pub, not a bar (a mere technicality that somehow still mattered), and it is the first time in seven months that he is looking Aziraphale right in the face.
He chose the place, walked right out of the bookshop and across the street the second Aziraphale looked at him with his stupid purple eyes and opened his mouth. Same table, same drinks. New silence.
A demon leads an angel into a pub so he does not kiss him again.
Less of a joke, more like the beginning of a nightmare he has had every single time he tried to sleep, woken by whispered words either confirming his worst fears or greatest desires; both incite fear, one way or another.
The low table between them is enough of a barrier to prevent a repeat of their last interaction, it has to be, although this time Aziraphale is looking at him with violet-coloured longing and an apology on his lips, no longer pleading, no longer angry. He is asking for forgiveness, and if that isn't a deeply ironic twist of fate.
Before either of them says a single word, Crowley finishes his drink and raises his hand to order another one, clinging to the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat to burn away the questions lingering on his tongue.
An angel followed a demon into a pub because he loves him.
Aziraphale wishes he could tell himself Crowley looks like he did seven months ago, that he hasn't changed, but he is done lying to himself, to either of them. Behind his shades, dark, darker if that is even possible, he can feel his golden gaze heavy on his face, familiar and the answer to an empty longing in his chest.
His drink goes untouched as Crowley downs one, then another, and it is after the third that he finally begins to talk.
"What do you want?"
Bitter, sharp, spit at his feet with an anger he expected and yet doesn't know how to react to. Underneath it is pain—more pain than any being should ever have to experience—and instead of trying to carry some of it for him, he only added to it.
"I want to apologise."
"Fine." Crowley shoves his empty glass away and gets up. "I don't forgive you."
Reflexively, Aziraphale reaches out and curls his fingers around his wrist when Crowley tries to walk past him, blinking up at him with eyes the colour of dying Myosotis.
Forget-me-nots.
They both freeze, the point of contact a crack in the walls they have spent centuries building and seven months rebuilding, and he knows he has made a mistake immediately.
Crowley stares at him, still as stone, until he suddenly rips his arm out of his grasp, almost cradling it against his chest. With dawning horror, Aziraphale realises he is shaking, tremors running through him like waves breaking apart on a rocky shore.
"Don't you dare touch me." Panic, not anger. Pure, unfiltered panic blooming beside a mountain of fear that could outlast an eternity.
"I-" He doesn't know what he wants to say, what he is trying to say, what he needs to say to make him stay. Oh, the irony of it all.
Crowley leaves the pub, and the Supreme Archangel stays behind.
Not a demon anymore, not technically, he is done with sides, and deeds, and choices; he never makes the right ones anyway. His wrist hurts with the ghost of a kiss, and he cannot get the glint of purple where summer sky blue should be out of his head.
The Bentley is waiting for him, providing an escape from the noise, the people, him.
Apologies instead of I'm coming back.
A sickening aura of holiness tinged with the burn of ozone instead of books and dust and soft, silly angel.
Seven months of waiting, of pleading with God, of cursing Her, cursing him, cursing the entire fucking world for taking and taking and taking from him without pause, without even a fragment of mercy.
For this.
An angel returns to heaven. Crowley curses the stars and cries.
#alex writes good omens#good omens#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale#good omens season 2#go2#aziracrow#crowley x aziraphale#ineffable divorce#emptying out my tumblr drafts which are usually full of posts that weren't worth posting#but this one was actually fun to finish#sorry no more fluff back to the angst#this is 700 words long my god i have issues#one short tumblr post and i end up with a fic#anyway#shoutout to the people that get the bojack horseman reference
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Home Alone.
Lewis Hamilton X Black!Fem!Reader
WARNINGS:Brief hitting, pain kink, masturbat!on, Sub!Lewis, Dom!Reader, smutty flashbacks,slightly unedited, SHORT!
SUMMARY: Lewis feels neglected so he takes matters into his own hands.
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“You just don’t listen, do you?”
The stinging he felt on his bronzed skin was like fire to his backside. Every crack of your whip came with a soothing rub or caress before contradicted by another smack and the thong you once wore that morning made for good use as a gag, the cotton stuffed in his mouth being the only thing blocking his moans from bleeding into the hallway. When you had told him not to cum while you were gone, he blew you off. If anything he’d have more than enough time to cum.. over and over again. He hadn’t had the pleasure of being inside you in weeks, which came with reason. You were busy, and unfortunately around this time your fiancé was taking a break.
“Do you need anything? Let me know now” You alarmed your soon to be husband and gathered your keys, putting them in your purse. You felt his strong arms snake their way around your waist, his tatted hands roaming your soft stomach and sides.
“I need you”
He spoke against your neck, making you roll your eyes for what felt the hundredth time that day. This had been his third attempt to bed you.
“Lewis..” You warned and he groaned your nickname, throwing his head back.
“Did I do something? Cause this feels like punishment and I don’t think i can last any longer” He was truthful. He felt one minor brush up against him could have a wet spot in his briefs.
You turn to him and cup his face in your hands. “How the hell did you survive when you were single? There’s no way you need sex this often”
“you want an honest answer?” He questioned and you squint, letting him go. “No, actually…I might punch you and I don’t need your white side kicking in and calling the law on me” You joke then kiss his lips before slipping away from his hold.
He couldn’t even enjoy your crack at him in peace, another groan exiting his mouth as you escaped him. “I have no energy to feel humor right now, I need to cum first”
“Then I suggest you wait for when I wanna give it to you” You gave him one last glare before leaving. He knew what that meant and cared less at the moment.
While you put on your big girl pants on and went out to stock up on food for the month, your fiancé took it upon himself to take care of that itch he has had for the passed week. He uncaringly left the bedroom door cracked open, more focused on the less dominant hand around his long shaft gripping the base to keep him from cumming too quick after that first round.
He held his right hand around his tip, slowly jerking himself off again once he felt that familiar pressure and heat in his muscles dissolving. He had precum beading on his tip, the clear and sticky liquid trickling, almost tickling the underside of his shaft before the trail was stopped by his hand. He thought about your warm walls and digging into you deep, so deep that the cum from the round before was forced out of you, pooling around the base of him and your entrance until it began dripping down to the sheets.
He couldn’t take the image of you being sprawled out for him, or on your knees, or with your ass up and face down. Any position had his head spinning and his stomach muscles burning with the need to un-flex, but he was on the edge and it was almost impossible to not tense up without cumming all over himself, particularly his stomach and chest, and he wasn’t done playing yet.
He hadn’t thought about his favorite times like when you’d fuck yourself in front of him, an exact replica of his dick measurements from tip to base and width shoved inside of you with no hip or thigh barrier stopping you from getting each and every inch, your chest heaving up and down the faster you went.
He hadn’t yet thought about when he ate you out all night to the point you cried and wet up your new sheets. His lips tasted like you till the morning when he reluctantly washed it off, remembering he could just go and get another taste whenever he wanted it.
He hadn’t thought about when you sucked his dick on your first date night after the engagement, taking him down your throat as your head hung off of the edge of the bed. He had watched the imprint of his thick dick penetrate your throat, satisfied shivers running along his skin as he heard you gag with every thrust of his hips. Even with the gags, you took him like a champ, as if he dick belonged there and should have never left from the first time.
As he began to think about it all, he had no idea the woman of the hour had been watching almost the entire time.
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💌ps.| this was originally gonna be about jude bellingham but then i found out that nigga is 20 and i was like ohhh that’s not- ???? 💀 i could have sworn he was 22 like huh?!
#henneseyhoe#black fanfic writer#black fanfiction#black!reader#black reader#black!fem!reader#masterlist#black!oc#lewis hamilton x black female oc#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton x black reader#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x black!reader#f1 x black!reader#f1 fanfic
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