feralforfrank

[feralforfrank]

shoot an arrow through my heart

max verstappen x reader

there's something you need to hear max say, but you're not sure if he's actually going to say it. you do know one thing though, it was always gonna be you and max.

a/n: started this longer ago than i'd like to admit but here we are! a big thank you to my fave beta reader K and to @scuderiahoney who helped me figure out all the banner image stuff. based on prompt #966 from this list.

masterlist

It starts with Lando. Because doesn’t it always? 

Lando says shit he doesn’t mean, Lando says things just for the sake of saying them. Lando says things as if they are fundamentally truths when they are in fact are lies.

And so, one moment you’re hanging out with Lando, letting him talk you down from buying the little trinket of the week you’ve fixated on, and the next he’s saying that Max is in love with you, saying it like it’s a truth, and then moving on as if he hasn’t just tilted your world on its axis.

And then, before you know it, you’re banging on Max’s front door trying to figure out if it’s true or not. 

Trying to figure out if your best friend is in love with you.

“Max! Open the door.”

He doesn’t.

You honestly don’t know if you want him to, or what you’re going to do when he does. Or if he even will, Max doesn’t know you’re here and you don’t even know if he’s home.

You’re just about ready to search for the spare key, the one you told him to hide in the firehose down the hallway because having a fake rock in front of his door makes no sense when he lives in an apartment building, when the door is flung open and a very grumpy looking Max, headset in hand, is giving you just about the most fed-up, unimpressed, stare you’ve seen in your life.

“Are you in love with me?” You can’t help it, the words foreign on your tongue but there’s an urgency to get them out and into the space in between you. You’re so desperate to hear him say it back.

Max blinks at you, bewildered at your words. You can see the gears turning in his head trying to work out what you just said and if you’re being honest you don’t know if you should be offended at the fact that the answer isn’t an immediate yes.

His brow furrows and his lips purse, “what?”

A beat passes, and then another, and then the idiot actually has the audacity to close the door.

You roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it you know that he knows that you’re doing it. As you push the exasperation out of your lungs you knock again.

“Max, nuh-uh, that is not going to work, open the door and answer my question.”

Nothing.

You bang your fist on the door one more time for good measure, “Max, you know I know where your spare key is and we both know that I’ll let myself in if necessary.”

It’s true and he knows it. 

There have been many nights where you’ve verged on the edge of too far gone and walked from the club to his apartment. Nights where you didn’t want the fun to end so instead of going home you go to Max’s where you can cuddle and coo at Jimmy and Sassy and sit around in comfy clothes and watch as Max putters around doing whatever it was he was doing before you came over.

It’s true. He knows it. But still, he doesn’t open the door.

You sigh and softly thump your forehead against Max’s front door, through the absence of your knocking you can hear his nervous shuffling on the other side. The inquisitive meows from the cats, the faint scrape of the peephole cover as Max checks to see if you’re still there, if you’re still waiting for him. 

You would wait for him for forever, but that’s just for you to know really.

Max opens the door again, just the barest amount. Just enough so his eyes, wide and disbelieving can lock onto yours. 

They’re so blue, you don’t know how you never noticed it before, so classically storybook blue that you’re really starting to wonder if this is all some kind of weird dream where you’re standing at his doorstep begging to be loved by him, like some kind of cheesy romcom star. Because after all, aren’t you just a girl standing in front of a guy?

“You’re in love with me.”

The words stretch the impossible distance between the two of you. Even when he’s halfway around the globe he’s never felt this far away.

And still, somehow, you feel too close to him. Like somehow all the other versions of you and him have been false proxies to what you’re reaching for right now. Like all of a sudden, somehow, he’s been molded into your every contour of your soul and you don’t want anything else

The door edges open a little wider.

“Are you asking me that or are you telling me?”

He’s stalling, you both know it. But, you can’t really bring yourself to do more than give him a fondly smile and roll your eyes at him. Because you know, if the roles were reversed, if he was the one throwing pebbles like some kind of suave Dutch romeo, demanding to know if you were in love with him, you would be doing the same thing.

“You and I both know how much you like being told what to do.” With a sigh Max opens the door to his apartment a little wider once more to let you in, “and yet, you’re still here telling me to open my door.”

You can’t really fault him for that one can you?

You make your way to the living room where you settle down on your spot on the couch while Max flits around the living room. Sassy is meowing at Max, desperate for a taste of the outside she only ever gets when the front door opens, and even though he knows she’s not going to make a run for it he still takes the time to half-heartedly shoo her away.

Max does this, dragging his feet, until both of the cats have curled up next to you on the couch and it is only then that he makes his way over to you. Coming to stand behind the armrest on his side of the couch, putting a little too much distance between the two of you for you to not feel spurned by him.

You can hear it in silence between you, you can feel it in the way your body seems to ache from having him in the ways you have him now and not in the ways you want to have him.

You’re not ready to have this conversation.

There’s a part of you that almost wants to say nevermind and forget that you even said anything in the first place. But deep down you know that the two of you have been putting on this elaborate dog and pony show for far too long. You’re only delaying the inevitable.

“So,” you say, nervously running your fingers over the fabric of the couch. “Is it true?”

You try to catch his eye as you say it, not only to try to make sure he doesn't chicken out but to see the reaction he gives. You want to see his soul and know that he means whatever he says.

But Max doges your gaze at every move in a way that makes him look like a kicked puppy. And you’re not really sure what it means but you can feel the way the dynamic has shifted. All of a sudden the two of you are on shaky ground, not sure where you stand with each other. Even though two hours earlier you would have called him your best friend with your entire heart.

“Well?”

“Please,” he says your name, strained and with a weight to it that you don’t quite want to acknowledge, “don’t make me say it.”

You’re not above begging, you really aren’t, but something about the way he sounds makes you falter. Just a little.

“Max,” you say his name softly, “I think you and I both know what your answer is going to be.”

“Then why do you need to hear it so bad?” His words bite, tinged with an anger that you know he doesn't really mean. “So, I can say it back!” Your words match the sharpness in his and you can see how much they throw Max off kilter.

He blinks at you and then rocks on his feet, first a step forward and then a step back like he’s blown away by the force of what you said. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

You cross your arms and shrug your shoulders, “it was a personal issue.”

“You being in love with me kind of also involves me.” 

You really don’t want to admit that he’s right on with that one.

You huff and shrug your shoulders again, “well it goes both ways, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I asked first,” Max shoots back.

You groan at his response and launch yourself up towards Max in a play attempt to strangle him. “Argh, you’re so!” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you slump against him, head resting in the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, “God I hate you.”

Max laughs underneath you, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist, “you evidently don’t.”

“You're so silly,” you sigh, tilting your head up to look at him. "You want to hear me say it so bad."

Your nose nearly brushes against his, he’s so close you think you could count every single one of his eyelashes if you tried.

Max makes a noise that’s somewhere between exasperated and surprised and you know that you’re toeing the line with your teasing

You always know when to give in when it comes to him.

“Okay, yes, I love you! I love you,” you say, “do you love me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Max says as he moves to cradles your jaw in his hands. “I love you.”

You grin, “good. Now kiss me please.”

And he does. He does and it feels like all the cliche things people say. It feels like coming home, it feels like fireworks are going off in the background, it feels like you were meant to be, that he was made for you just as much as you were made for him.

And you just know. You know that there can never be anyone else but him. That there was a version of you before Max and now there’s going to be a version of you that’s with Max, but there’s never going to be a you after Max.

“I love you.” Softer, quieter this time.

You don’t dare look him in the eye, instead choosing to press your cheek against his and stare out the window of his apartment. Your gaze settles somewhere in the distance as you try to memorize the feel of his body pressed up against yours.

You curl your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging absentmindedly as you say, “I’m glad that worked out, I didn’t even know you were home.”

He pulls away from you to fix you with a look that is so quintessentially Max, “you have my location on your phone, you’re always stalking me,” he says, punctuating his words with little jabs to your shoulder.

It’s true, and you honestly don’t know why you didn’t try to check his location in the first place, your logic getting lost somewhere in the panic of knowing that he loved you. 

“Mhmm.” You shrug noncommittally, trying very hard to ignore the rushing feeling of warmth in your chest that comes with the realization that Max was so ingrained in your life and you in his from the start. 

You try not to think about the fact your toothbrush sits next to his in his bathroom, about the fact that your hand automatically gravitates to his favorite spoon in your cutlery drawer, the one you can identify solely based on the weight of it in your hand. You try very hard to think about how you couldn’t separate the love from the friendship.

It was always gonna be you and Max. 

There’s a silence between you for a moment. You try to match your breath to his and let the sounds of outside filter through your ears. And for a moment you can hear how the rest of the world keeps turning, even when your world has stopped spinning on its axis.

“So, what now?” Max asks, turning his head to press kisses to your hairline, his hand squeezing your waist. You can feel his nose brush against your temple as he makes his way down, lips featherlight on your skin. The intimacy of it makes your blood sing with electricity. 

You pull “Mhmm, you could take me to bed?”

It’s half serious, half a joke. You’ve waited so long to have Max like this that now that you finally do you want him in all ways possible. But still, there’s some young and girlish part of you that wants it to be special.

Max pretends to think about it for a little bit and it’s so impossibly silly that you have to resist the urge to strangle him again for it, “it’s three in the afternoon, I think it’s a little early for sleep.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, stop being a smartass.”

Max smiles, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “Well,” he says, “how about I send you home so you can get all nice and pretty for me and then I’ll come pick you up and take you to a nice dinner, hmm?”

You flush, not just from the way he pours honey, slow and sweet, into your ear, but from the way it feels like this was always meant to be. Like you were always meant to have this, always meant to have him. 

“And then,” he says, dropping your hand to pull you in by your belt loops so your hips are press flush against his, “after dinner, that’s when I’ll take you to bed.”

#max verstappen #frank reads

[feralforfrank]

his looks just add to the appeal 🤤

[feralforfrank]

firm believer that if you asked gaz about what he’s doing / what he’s wearing, he’d reply with a photo posed up like a SLUT (affectionate)

[feralforfrank]

just saw big big men come out of the bus that takes them to this big ass construction site out of town, and now i can't stop thinking about retired!simon riley working at a construction site, and then idk BUYING it or smth but he loves his job so bad that he keeps helping around instead of sitting at an office all day and then reader who's a successful businesswoman finally able to buy her own building for her business so he's building it for her and idk they fall in love and fuck bc cmon sweaty and big and broad and beefy simon riley is so fucking hot omfg.

might expand on thid idea and actually write it at some point (when exams are finished....)

#i need simon riley wo bad #i see him everywhere #simon riley simon riley simon riley simon riley simon riley #ohmygkd i need him #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley au #frank rambles

[feralforfrank]

"oh my name is there!"

"oh, look at that! im on this list!"

😖😖😖🥹🥹🥹🥹☹️☹️☹️😭😭😭😭😭

or when he literally complained about the safety car being out there longer than needed, and then max said the same thing on the radio, and he was like "thank for taking my side, max!" DKSKDKSKF

me whenever nico rosberg speaks about lewis hamilton post-brocedes divorce...

he's rooting for his ex-husband ALWAYS!!

also we need more nico rosberg commentating that shit was GOLD like PLEASE HES SO FUNNYYY

"reminds me of my time with lewis as teamates" SHUT UP OLD MAN IM NOT NORMAL ABOUT YOUUU

#i saw someone on tl call him 'my emotional support multimillionaire' #nico rosberg #frank rambles

[feralforfrank]

Ur kidding

#oh my fucking god #he looks so good wtf #barry sloane #frank rambles

[feralforfrank]

re-reading my own fic because the author has exactly my taste in tropes, ships the same ships in the right way, and also shares my sense of humour. what a find, what a revelation. i hope they write more of this sort of thing.

[feralforfrank]

I was recently rereading “jealousy jealousy”. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind doing an alternate ending with Jake. He’s just so sweet in it and even goes along with her games. Idk Bradley just really pissed me off.😭 obviously you’re a really good writer because I’m feeling all of the emotions! I also just wanted to mention how good of a writer you are. Your stories always make my day!💖💖 keep it up!🩵🩵🩵

i can't believe people are still reading my bradley stories omffggggg 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 thank you for your kind words and taking time out of your day to read my stuff!!!

ykw??? this is such a good idea! the way i wrote bradley also pissed me off ngl🤭 i'd love to work on it!!!!! if you have any more ideas you want to add, my inbox is always open! 💓

#frank rambles #bradley bradshaw

[feralforfrank]

the spongebob pic is me actually 🤙🏻🤙🏻🤙🏻

yeah, so, boxer!könig surprises you with the occasional date night away from kids (yes, i did see the girl dad post, but i also think he'd want at least one more - another girl that grows up to be SUCH a daddy's girl and is literally a crabon copy of him) bc he feels bad about working and training and being away and then coming back injured and worrying you and allat.

so he wears his fancy suit - biceps ready to rip the shirt to pieces, if i may add - and takes you to the fanciest restaurant EVAR. you share kisses, and you joke, and he's such a gentleman throughout the night..

and then takes you home and fucks you dumb until you're a puddle on the sheets and can't remember your name to show you how much he loves you and appreciates you, ok bye!!!

THE SUIT AND SHIRTTTT 😮‍💨😮‍💨 the seams would be bursting like. . . the suit is defo custom-made to accommodate his build !! no way he could rent or buy a suit that’s big enough. yous absolutely have a seamstress who makes his clothing specially.

and his shirt tears whilst he’s fucking you bc yall were too desperate and impatient to undress completely 😵‍💫 his sleeves rip from his shoulders and all of his buttons pop off. . . i’m losing my mind 🫨

#feralforfrank best girl ever??? #OH STOP IT!!!!!!! ✋🏻 😆💓 #i will flood your inbox with my könig thoughts i feel like only YOU will get them

[feralforfrank]

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

cw unspecified age gap, reader is in uni, NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER

just thinking about stressed!reader trying to memorise whatever textbook you have in front of you. exam season is coming up, and you feel like all the progress you've made all year has disappeared as you blankly stare at the small letters. your poor head hurts, having gripped your roots hard for the past two hours.

also thinking about how bf!simon would hate seeing you like this, so he'd coax you out of your desk chair for a small break. then would proceed to fuck your brains out, pull several orgasms out of you, and reduce you to a puddle of shaky legs and fucked-out eyes.

can't stop thinking about how, after getting you water and making a trip by your desk, would pull you close to his chest, open the textbook (also wear his glasses bc he's blind as hell idc idc, he can't read small letters), and stroke your hair.

"let's do this again, shall we, lovie?"

he'd help you out, asking you the questions you've hurriedly scribbled down next to specific paragraphs, praising you when you got every single one right.

"see, lovie, you do know everything. no need to worry. my smart, pretty, lovie."

#whaaaat who said that??? #am i projecting? #nooooooo #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fluff #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #fluff #established relationship #frank writes

[feralforfrank]

🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 hmmmmmm.....

part two-ish? of this.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

cw idk cursing? NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

a/n like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.

masterlist | taglist

once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).

he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.

you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.

despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.

soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.

"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"

"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.

you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.

the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.

"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."

soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

"my lovely savior."

what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.

there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.

some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.

"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."

you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.

the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.

your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.

"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.

your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.

"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."

before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"

"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.

"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.

it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.

"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.

you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"

"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.

"fuck off."

"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."

he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.

um....this got out of hand....idk.....

#your wish is my absolute command 🫡 #frank rambles

[feralforfrank]

my stuff has been so shit since the beginning of the year 💔 i got a lotta wips cooking in the drafts istg, i just gotta wait out this exam season so i can work on them 😖

be patient w me people, i PROMISE i can deliver bettee content than this 💯

#i just wanna sleep #and write #and get this exam season out of my life #21st of june couldnt come any faster #frank rambles

[feralforfrank]

list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your moots or followers ^_^

sleeping

eating dark chocolate

napping

watching f1 (actually brings me joy idk)

writing!

#frank rambles

[feralforfrank]

part two-ish? of this.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

cw idk cursing? NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

a/n like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.

masterlist | taglist

once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).

he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.

you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.

despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.

soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.

"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"

"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.

you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.

the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.

"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."

soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

"my lovely savior."

what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.

there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.

some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.

"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."

you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.

the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.

your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.

"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.

your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.

"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."

before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"

"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.

"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.

it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.

"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.

you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"

"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.

"fuck off."

"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."

he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.

um....this got out of hand....idk.....

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #fluff #established relationship #frank writes

[feralforfrank]

i still can't get over it

#barking rn. #woof woof. #bark bark. #give me one chance man PLEASE. #john price

[feralforfrank]

me as a writer: Oh no I can’t write that, somebody else already has

me as a reader: hell yes give me all the fics about this one scenario. The more the merrier

[feralforfrank]

thank u for reading, ahhh!!!! 😆💓🫶🏻

fuck it, give me mean!reader.

simon riley x fem!reader

i see so many innocent/soft/polite!reader paired with simon, but i've barely come across mean!reader (to everyone except, eventually, simon).

i want reader that isn't intimidated by his size or his glare or his mask at all. she just finds it annoying as fuck. (you'll see)

—

simon's attention is completely on you from the moment he laid eyes on you. you're in a bar, and he's coming out of the loo, not looking in front of him. he bumps into you — a pretty thing, shorter than him, the top of your head reaching his shoulder — and the collision causes your beer to spill all over your shirt.

"bloody fucking hell, man! watch where you're fucking going!"

you're soaked and your shirt clings on your body, and simon's wide eyes shamelessly wander over it. you're hot.

you look down at the mess he's made, fingers dripping beer as you wave the empty bottle away from you. your eyes snap up to meet his in an icy glare, and he must admit that his rookies back in base would definitely cower under your stare.

"a sorry would be nice. i have nothing to cover myself with and it's cold outside." you scoff.

you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a response. you're surprised he hasn't walked away yet. his eyes express the boredom and unamusement of the situation. you sigh a few seconds later, realising he's opted at staring at your bra rather than being a gentleman and apologising.

you nod at brenda, the bartender, calling her name and sliding the empty bottle her way. to the bathroom it is, then. you just hope you can dry it enough for your bra not to show.

"move, you brute." you push past the silent giant, cursing like a sailor under your breath.

you don't realise he's followed you, in the women's restroom, until several minutes later, when you're struggling to soak up the alcohol with paper towels. simon's leaning on the doorway, arms crossed as he watches you unbutton your shirt.

"y'gonna giv'me a show, lov'?"

he startles you, and you grab the soap by the sink, arm raised to throw it at him, but you stop yourself.

"you've come to spill another drink on me, or just to stare at my boobs?"

you turn your back on him, unbuttoning the rest. sneaking a glance in the mirror, you're surprised to find his eyes cast elsewhere. good.

"you need something, dickhead?" you look at him as you place your shirt directly under the hand dryer, hoping it'll do the job faster.

his eyes don't meet yours, stuck on a big ben painting on the wall.

"didn't get to apologise." his voice is smooth, accent thick.

"well, you're not forgiven. shirt's still soaked and i smell like beer. so..."

if simon was being one hundred percent honest, he was shocked by your boldness. you'd met him several moments ago, yet you'd called him several names, while also glaring daggers. he wasn't used to anyone behaving like that around him or talking to him in that way. he was definitely intrigued.

"a drink on me, then?" additionally to finding you extremely attractive, you seemed interesting and he — although, he wouldn't admit it — wanted to hear more of the variety of names you had for him.

you shake your head. "there's no way i'm staying another minute in here." you pull on your semi-dry shirt. "i stink, curtesy of some random, abnormally tall idiot, who forgets there's shorter pople in the world."

the laugh comes unexpectedly. your eyes train on him as you button up, glaring.

"you're laughing at me, now?"

simon barely shakes his head (while also trying to conceal his laughing), and you, once again, push past him. he follows you albeit a lot slower, watches you as you grab your things and call brenda over to pay her.

he slams the cash on the bar before you can take your wallet out, nodding at the woman and telling her to keep the change.

"i told you, stranger, apology not accepted."

he shrugs, draping his jacket over your shoulders. he'd picked up his things on the way over, dead set on apologising - in his own way. he was never good with words, and you seemed not to like that method either.

"simon."

"what?" you look up to him.

"name's simon. not stranger, or idiot, or dickhead. although, i quite like that one."

your eyes soften the tiniest bit as he looks down to meet your gaze. you notice the crinkle by his eyes when he gives you a stiff smile.

"well, si—dickhead, i'd appreciate it if you didn't use me as a human hanger, and let me go home." you move to shrug off his jacket, but he stops you.

his big hand brushes to the small of your back and he pushes you forwars softly. "go on, then. i don't know the way to your house."

you look confused. eyes narrowed and lips turned downwards in a pout. cute.

"a-are you...? you're walking me home?"

"i gotta show how sorry i am for drenching you in beer, one way or another, right?"

you sigh, shoulders slumping in surrender. you pull your arms through the sleeves, and to no one's surprise, the jacket is massive on you.

you motion for him to follow you. "i got peper spray in my bag though." your icy tone from before is back.

simon suppresses his smirk. "mhm."

"i won't hesitate to use it, dickhead."

man....this is kind of shit....but i got do many ideas off of it....

#frank rambles